UNCHARTED: Drake's Demise

"Ready the lifeboats, men!" Francis commanded. "There may yet be survivors, as this carnage appears quite recent."

A pair of lifeboats began to be lowered into the water. Francis decided to accompany his men to the wreckage, while John stayed behind to ready the medical supplies for any injured they might find. As they approached the wreckage, the men cursed in disgust at seeing the damage the done. At first it appeared that none could have survived, but Francis soon spied a figure floating amongst the debris, clinging to a piece of the mast.

"There! Man overboard!" he shouted, pointing to the survivor. The lifeboat immediately made for the debris, and Francis could now see that this survivor was a woman. "Hang on, young lady! We are here to rescue you!"

"Thank... God..." she managed to croak as the men approached, but her strength was rapidly failing her, as Francis could tell.

"Hurry, or the ocean will take her!" he urged his men. One crewman, a boy of about twenty-three, immediately dove from the lifeboat and started towards her, showing his incredible swimming skill.

"I've got her!" he called back, helping the girl remain steady on the debris.

"Excellent work! Stay there, we shall come to you!" Francis replied. Finally, after fighting the waves for a minute more, they were able to drag the pair onto the lifeboat.

"Easy there, girl, easy," Francis said reassuringly. "She has passed out, but still breathing. Get us back onboard at once; we must warm her up to save her life!"

The men rowed with such strength and determination, knowing that an innocent life depended on their actions. Francis could not have been more proud of them and their efforts, as they reached the Pelican far more quickly than he could have hoped. They were immediately pulled onboard, whereupon Francis turned his attentions to the young woman in his arms.

"John, a blanket at once!"

Francis immediately wrapped her in the wool sheet, drying her as best he could and trying desperately to keep her warm. After several agonizing minutes, her eyes finally began to flutter open.

"Am... am I dead?" she heaved.

"No, young lady. You are onboard the Pelican. Can you tell us what happened? Who are you?"

Sitting up slowly, she began to speak, "My name... is Cassandra Norrington. My father, Richard Norrington, was captain of the Dauntless. He... he had gotten word of a massive continent south and east of the East Indies, in uncharted waters. But, as we explored, a gale force wind blew us well off course. We were trying to correct, when... we encountered a Spanish vessel."

"The Spaniards did this to you?" Francis asked.

"Yes. They attacked with ferocity, and without warning. They cared not who we were, and ignored all our pleas for quarter or parlay. They... slaughtered the entire crew. I only managed to survive by hiding in a secret chamber hidden in my father's cabin. When they blew the ship to pieces, that debris was all that remained. I've been hanging on for several days now, just trying to stay near the wreckage in hopes of being rescued."

"The ship that attacked you, do you know the name of it?"

Thinking a few moments, she finally replied, "The Esperanza."

Swearing, Francis muttered, "Captain Alejandro Montoya... you heartless bastard." Turning his attentions back to the girl, he said, "Young lady, you need not be afraid any longer. You now travel with the most feared sailors England has ever produced. I am their captain, Sir Francis Drake."

"Sir Francis Drake?!" she exclaimed. "But, we received word of your death!"

Chuckling, Francis replied, "A ruse, all to lull the Spaniards into a false sense of security. Unfortunately, we will not be able to return you home until after our mission is complete, as we are tracking the Spanish to an uncharted island, on which we believe is a treasure of immeasurable value, one that would prove disastrous should King Philip get his hands on it. For the time being, you are our honored guest, and my cabin is yours."

"T-thank you... sir," she said, still shivering a bit.

Seeing the sun begin to set on the horizon, Francis said, "It is late, and you need to regain your strength. Come, to bed with you." No sooner had he finished speaking, and she had already passed out once more.

As he carried the girl in his arms, Francis could not help but admire her beauty, even in her disheveled state. She appeared to be not much older than twenty, twenty-two at the very most. Her blonde hair traveled past her shoulders and down her back, and would have been exceedingly luxurious, had it not been drenched by the Pacific. Her gorgeous white skin was smooth and soft in spite of the harsh climate they had rescued her from, and possessed a slight tan, indicating that she was not a complete stranger to sailing. This was not a surprise to Sir Francis, considering what she had told him of her father.

Her Father!

Francis suddenly grew concerned for the poor girl's emotional state. For all he knew, she was now an orphan, which would certainly hit her full force once she regained her strength. To make matters worse, she now sailed with strangers, a crew of scallywags, though none would so much as dare to look at her with the explicit orders Francis planned to give. Poor Cassandra had been through quite enough without the constant leers from his crew.

Arriving in his cabin, Francis was about to lay her down into bed when he realized just how wet her clothes were. Torn between removing them to ensure she evaded sickness and leaving them on to remain a gentleman, Francis ultimately decided that she could not afford to become ill so far out at sea. Her dress was already ripped in the back, and slid off without any effort at all, but her undergarments were quite heavy, still dripping with seawater, and it took a bit of working to untie them. Finally, Francis managed to slip off the last of her garments, leaving her completely naked before him. Averting his eyes, he instantly wrapped her back in the blanket and laid her on his bed, covering her and ensuring she was comfortable before departing, closing the door behind him.

"Now hear this!" Francis announced to his crew. "I meant what I said when I told that girl that she is our honored guest. Any of you who would so much as look at Cassandra Norrington lustfully, be assured that the only thrusting that shall come of it will be my cutlass thrusting into your bellies. Do I make myself clear?"

"Aye, Captain!" the crew replied in unison.

"Excellent! Now, back to work all of you, make preparations for nightfall. Except... you," Francis said, pointing at the young man from the lifeboat.

"M-me, sir?" the boy asked tentatively.

"Yes, you. With me, please."

The boy approached his captain, a look of fear and uncertainty in his eyes.

"What is your name, boy?" Francis asked.

"Fletcher Morgan, sir."

Studying him a moment, Francis stuck out his hand, saying, "I wish to thank you for your courage earlier. That was quite a daring rescue you made."

"T-thank you, Captain," Fletcher replied, shaking Francis' hand. His grip was surprisingly strong for one who had just been fished out of the frigid waters of the Pacific Ocean. Despite his meek demeanor, boyish face, and flowing brown hair, Francis could tell that this was a young man with incredible potential.

"Tell me, Fletcher. If you were in charge of this crew, how would you handle a dispute amongst the men in the event of a quarrel over the division of our spoils?"

Thinking a moment, Fletcher replied with confidence, "First, I would admonish them for fighting amongst themselves over any matter. Such petty actions are befitting of our Spanish rivals, not us. We are English, and thus must endeavor to be the perennial gentlemen. After that, I would remind them that any fears they have about the fair division of treasure amount to questioning the judgment of their captain, who in this scenario would be me. I as captain have every reason to ensure that my crew is compensated fairly for their efforts, and any doubts as to that from the crew could be seen as an attempt at mutiny. This would certainly remind them of the importance of our continued unity, for without it, we are surely marked for death at the hands of the Spaniards."

"Quite right," Francis said with a smile. "I like you, Mr. Morgan. I shall be keeping a close eye on you and your career, as I see it blossoming into wonderful things in the future."

"Thank you, Captain."

"You are quite welcome. Now, I hereby order you to retire below deck for the evening, take an extra helping of food at supper, and spend a relaxing evening regaining your strength. God knows we shall need that strength once we reach this island... wherever it may be."

"Aye, sir!" Fletcher replied, grinning as he turned and made his way below deck.

As Francis stood alone for a few moments, a low voice came from behind him. "Very clever, Francis. I can tell exactly what is in your head. Second Mate material, yes?"

Chuckling, he replied, "You know me all to well, John."

"Well, for what it is worth, I happen to agree with you. The boy has tremendous leadership potential, and is highly respected amongst the crew. When shall we make the announcement?"

"In the morning, for we should be close to our destination by then," Francis answered. "We will likely need a third authority figure for our expedition onto the island. But for now, it is quite late, and I do not wish that poor girl to awaken alone. I think I shall retire for the evening. You have the ship, First Mate Hawkins."

"Aye. Good evening, Captain."

Returning to his cabin, Francis was pleased to see that Cassandra was now sleeping peacefully. Feeling her forehead momentarily, she had also begun to warm considerably, giving him additional comfort. After changing into his sleeping clothes, he sat at his desk and lit a candle, flipping through his notes and sketches from his journal. Studying each page at length, he suddenly remembered one of the books he had lifted from Montoya's ship, and began perusing it. Though much of it was information he already knew, one section on concealing treasure was of particular interest. However, before he could investigate further, Cassandra suddenly gasped, scaring herself awake.

"W-where am I?!"

"Easy, my dear, do not panic. You are onboard the Pelican, remember?"

"Of... of course. Sir Francis Drake, yes?"

"Indeed. How are you feeling, young lady?"

Breathing deeply, she replied, "Physically? Much better, thank you. Spiritually? Lost... and confused."

Moving his chair to sit next to the bed, Francis said, "It is only natural. I cannot imagine the hurt you are experiencing, with the loss of your father. Tell me, do you have family back home?"

"No," she replied sadly. "My mother died in childbirth, and I have no siblings. Father and I went everywhere together. He was... my world, and I his."

"I am so sorry. I did not know your father, but by the reverence you mention him with, I feel very certain that he now lives in a far better place, and that he and your mother have finally been reunited."

Cassandra smiled for the first time all day. "I very much like the thought of that." She shifted in bed, and suddenly realized that she was without clothes. "Wait... what is this?! Why am I naked?!"

"I apologize, Ms. Norrington, but it was necessary for your health. Your clothes were soaking wet, and you would have certainly come down with an illness had you remained in them. Please be assured that I did not gaze upon you; this I swear on my solemn honor."

Eying him warily, she asked, "You swear?"

"On my life."

A cheeky grin began to spread across her face. "Well, as you are supposed to be dead, how strong an oath is that really, Sir Francis?"

Laughing, Francis said, "My, my, you are a sharp one. I am glad that you seem to be in better spirits. Do you wish to sleep more? I can leave you in peace, if you so desire."

"No, thank you. I doubt I would be able to sleep for very long, what with today's excitement." Glancing behind him, she saw Francis' papers and books spread out on his desk, intriguing her. "May I ask what you are working on?"

Somewhat surprised at her interest, Francis asked, "Would you like to see?"

"Absolutely!" she said with a radiant smile. "One of my favorite pastimes as a little girl was reading of your adventures. An experience such as this is truly beyond my wildest dreams."

"Splendid!" Standing, Francis first retrieved a silk robe from his closet, one that he had shared with several of his female guests over the years. "Will this be comfortable for you?"

"I should think so, yes. Thank you."

Francis turned his attentions to his desk as Cassandra covered herself, soon hearing her pull a chair up next to his.

"Is this... your journal?" she asked in wonderment.

"Indeed it is. All the most fantastic secrets I have encountered over the years are contained within this book. The greatest secret of all is one that I only recently acquired, and from the Esperanza, no less." Turning to the map he had sketched, Francis watched as Cassandra excitedly began to inspect it.

"Incredible... it appears to be a section of Brazil. Wait, does this say what I think it says?"

"Indeed, my dear Cassandra. El Dorado. We followed this map into the jungle, coming upon a great temple built centuries ago. My men and I braved the treacherous traps and puzzles laden throughout the structure, until we finally discovered the room of El Dorado itself."

"Was it a city of gold, as the legends describe?"

"Not precisely, no," Francis explained. "The term 'El Dorado' has several translations into English. One translation describes it not as a city, but as an enormous golden statue. Examining the place where we believe it was kept before the Spaniards took it, we estimated that said statue would be several hundred pounds of solid gold."

"And that is why you chase the Spaniards into the Pacific?"

"Indeed. During our Brazil expedition, we also found this map," he replied, showing her the map of the uncharted island. "It was held by a deceased Spanish officer, and we believe it is a secret colony that they are using to hide their greatest treasures from England. These coordinates at the top are what we now follow to locate the island."

"What will you do when you do locate the it?" Cassandra inquired.

"I am very glad you asked." Flipping through the book on his desk, Francis paused at a page and laid the book flat. "This symbol, which appears to be a heart with a pair of keys crossing it, is a recurring symbol for the Spanish. According to this book, it is used to mark the pathways to their treasure vaults."

"Fascinating," Cassandra marveled, examining the symbol. "Would you mind if I sketched it in your journal? I have some experience with drawings."

"By all means."

For the next several minutes, Cassandra carefully transferred every detail of the symbol into the journal. Nothing was left out, and her sketch was not only accurate, but quite aesthetically pleasing as well, containing a few flourished pen strokes and some shading on the body of the image.

"Beautiful," Francis said, examining her sketch. "Such great care and accuracy... I must say, my dear, you have a true talent for-"

Before he could finish, Cassandra drew Francis' face to hers and planted a strong kiss upon his lips. She breathed heavily, her emotions fueled by raw passion and desire for the man she had admired ever since she was a child. Finally, she withdrew, her cheeks flushed and her hands trembling.

"I... forgive me, please," she managed to say, beginning to feel very ashamed. "That was not my place, I don't know what came over me. I just... have always looked up to you and admired your courage. I always dreamed of marrying a man like you. Oh God, you must think me a whore now..."

As the girl began to sob, Francis stroked her blonde hair gently. Now that it had dried, he could tell that it was indeed luxurious. Tilting her face up with his hand, Francis said, "I certainly do not think you a whore. You are beautiful, kind, and have a rather inquisitive streak about you. If I may say so, you remind me so much of my Mary."

"Mary?"

"My first wife, before her passing," Francis said with a sad smile. "Ah, she was a special one. Beautiful and kind, just as you are, and oh how she loved to hear the tales of my adventures. Some nights, we would stay awake constantly, conversing of the sights and experiences I encountered across this world."

"She sounds wonderful," Cassandra replied, kissing him sweetly on the cheek.

"Cassandra, please," Francis cautioned. "Your affections are incredibly flattering, however I fear that I would be taking undue advantage of you."

"Sir Francis, fear not," she answered. "You saved my life today. In my darkest hour, with my father and his crew dead, you appeared and fended off the cold grip of death. As strange as it sounds, I feel as if I have known you my whole life, and I would gladly give myself to you, my savior."

Cassandra again kissed Francis' lips. This time her affections were more measured and deliberate, rather than raw and passionate. As she explored his lips with hers, her fingers began to run through the man's greying hair, traveling up the sides of his beard and to his head. Francis was quite tentative at first and afraid of responding too powerfully, but slowly became more receptive to her adoration, beginning to kiss her back. After several minutes, he felt her tongue probing at his lips, to which he allowed her entry.

Their tongues began to intertwine, and Cassandra sat in Francis' lap to get better leverage on him. He wrapped her tightly in his arms as they continued to savor each other, lightly stroking the small of her back. Her breathing deepened in reply, and she began to involuntarily thrust her chest against him. This, in turn, resulted in an awakening within Francis' loins, which was immediately noticed by a very aroused Cassandra.

"Oh my, Sir Francis. Did I do that to you?" she asked playfully.

"Well it certainly wasn't my crew," he replied with a grin.

Cassandra giggled sweetly and kissed his forehead once more before standing and making her way to the bed. Facing Francis, she slowly untied the sash of her robe and slipped the silky garment over her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor. Francis was in awe of her beauty. Though life at sea was harsh, and practically any woman would be a welcome sight, he still recognized that Cassandra was easily the most stunning vision of loveliness he had ever encountered. Her body was slim and fit, no doubt from her time spent sailing with her father. The golden locks of her hair, though matted and rumpled from the ocean, framed her face brilliantly and extended down her back. Gazing at her breasts, he could tell that they were firm and perky, not overly large, but likely the perfect size for his hands... or perhaps his mouth. Francis made a mental note to conduct further investigation on this matter.

Joining Cassandra beside the bed, Francis discarded his sleep shirt and pants, leaving him completely bare before her. He took her hand gently and lay on his back, inviting her to join him. Sliding under the covers with him, Cassandra leisurely kissed his cheek and neck, running her hands down his chiseled chest and powerful arms. She was taken a bit by surprise at how strong he seemed in his old age, and yet every time he touched her, he was always so gentle and tender. Continuing her worshipping of his body, one of Cassandra's hands slipped lower, tickling his balls slightly as she inspected his hardening appendage.

"Oh my," she whispered before drawing back the covers to inspect it visually. Francis was distinctly average in his size, extending about six to seven inches in length, but to Cassandra, he was absolutely perfect. As she sat up and pressed her entrance against his head, Cassandra stopped momentarily, feeling a twinge of pain.