A Fort Reborn on a Winterâs Morn
"There's just one thing that grieves my mind! Heave away, haul away! That's leavin' Nancy Blair behind! We're bound for South Australia!Â
Haul Away you rollin' kings! Heave away, haul away! All the way you'll hear me sing We're bound for South Australia!"Â
The Admiralâs eye twitched as he stared into space, yet again fighting down the urge to leap overboard from the small patrol boat that was keeping pace with his ebullient escort. Now he knew why Batavia had refused to accompany them to the meeting with the newly rehabilitated Fort Drum. Paris had been singing shanties since the moment they left, interweaving one into the next as if they were a single, endless seafarerâs ditty. While Jones knew they could not have been traveling more than a few hours, it felt like an eternity. Mercifully, something finally caught Parisâ attention enough to bring about an end to her seemingly ceaseless singing: Corregidor.
The pirate covered her mouth upon finally seeing the spread on Corregidor, one of her fairies taking up the lead in her voice's absence. In the rising sun, Fort Drum looked truly magnificent; almost enough to bring a tear to her eye.Â
"Vraiment magnifique... aussi radieuse que le soleil lui-mĂŞme. Corregidor awaits, Monsieur Admiral. I shall guide us in."Â
Jones nodded, straightening his cap as he took in the sight of their destination. Bathed as it was in the shimmering light of dawn, it truly was something to behold. He just hoped that their imminent meeting with the former Manila Princess would be as serene and peaceful as the vista laid out before him. He had no reason to doubt Paris, but that did not stop him from preparing for the worst... even as he hoped for the best.
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