Author: Ebony
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: You/Jack
Categories: Action/Adventure, Romance

Disclaimer: I do not own PotC or any of the characters or places... They belong to Disney. But I really wanna own Capt'n Jack Sparrow! I wannaIwannaIwannaIwannaIwanna-- *slaps herself* Ahem. Sorry. But I still wanna!

Summary: You are a pirate, the daughter of a well known but sadly deceased pirate Captain. Having lost your father, ship and the crew, you set off to Port Royal and search out your cousin you haven't met in years. After a trip to the local brig, you meet a fellow pirate; the infamous and dashing Captain Jack Sparrow. Not one to be left out of the action, you tag along with him and young Will Turner as they sail off to rescue your cousin, Elizabeth Swann, from the cursed Captain Barbossa and his mangy micreants.

Author's note: My first PotC-fic. English is not my native language since I'm from Finland, so pay no heed to my typos and grammatical errors, 'kay? Bear with me. Reviews are much appreciated and yes, I can handle flames, I'm a big girl.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 1 - Encounters of All Kind

”’Ere!” Mr. Otis says and unceremoniously dumps a huge pile of dirty dishes next to the sink you stand by with your hands emerged in hot, soapy water. Aw gods, no more! You think, but plaster an overly sweet smile on your face. Mr. Otis is a first-class jerk, but unfortunately your current income depends on the fat bastard.

“Why thanks Mr. Otis, here I was starting to think these were the last ones!” You reply, indicating to the even bigger pile of clean mugs, pots, bowls and plates on the other side of the sink. Mr. Otis lets out a bellowing laugh, patting his huge beer belly in amusement.

“Nay, nay! ‘Ere are plenty mo ‘ere these came fro’!” he states with his thick accent you’ve only recently started to understand somewhat. Sometimes, you still have no idea what he says, so then you usually just smile and nod.

“Great. I wouldn’t want to be left without work!” You grin, scrubbing the left-overs from the plate you’re holding in you hand with a wiry brush. You absently wonder what the hell is Otis feeding to people in this joint. Cement? At least it sticks to these darn plates just as well.

Otis laughs again. “Yer a sassy one, ye! This ‘ay I loik ye. Got me own dish-washin’ pirate!” with that, Otis walks out of the kitchen, back in front to tend the bar. The comment was supposed to be taken as a good-natured joke, but it makes you cringe. You had been demoted from a pirate to a dishwasher. And as loathsome as the fact is, it’s the cold truth.

“Oy, this is really not my week! Or even my bloody month,” You mumble, scrubbing the same plate with fury.

You had been stuck in this bloody tavern in the seedy town of Tortuga for a week now, and quite frankly you’re sure to snap any minute. You came here to get a rest from the pesky naval soldiers, get some money and think about your next move. However, scrubbing plates and pots to get some money is not what a self-respecting pirate does! A self-respecting pirate robs and raids with success! A self-respecting pirate would blow this place and take all the money from Otis’ safe. A safe Otis thinks nobody knows about. That bloody idiot. This week has been the most humiliating one in your life.

Exhaling, you pull your hands from the water. Your fingers are pink and wrinkled from the water, but at least they’re now cleaner than ever before. With disgust, you dry them in some piece of cloth hanging on the wall. When did you life become so boring? Ah yes, about three years ago when your father passed away.

Your father was a fairly well-known pirate named Bloodshot Pete, who fell in love with a respectable woman and vice versa. Your mother’s family, as expected, was appalled to hear about her involvement with a pirate and demanded that she was to cut all ties to him immediately to save her reputation. Your mother, however, was as stubborn as you and refused to leave the man she loved. After this, your mother’s family washed their hands of her, stating that she wasn’t part of the family anymore and was to run away with her pirate lover. She did so, and they had gotten married in some remote town away from Port Royal, your mother’s birthplace. But, their happiness was short lived. Your mother had died while giving birth to you. With no doctor available on the ship, the excess blood loss had weakened her too greatly. Thus, your father had been left alone with his ship, crew and a tiny newborn daughter.

You sigh, wishing more than anything you could have know your own mother. Your father told you all about her and the time they spent together, and you always marvelled at the love they obviously had shared. The years passed by, and you accustomed to the pirates life; constant moving from place to place, the raids, and the unpredictable nature of the sea. Your father loved you greatly, and taught you everything you know with his crewmen. By the time you were ten, you already knew how to pick locks and not to mention pockets. You were also trained in self-defence, and nowadays your skills in swordfight are good enough for you to defend yourself. Sometimes, the lack of female figures in your life was a bit depressing, but thanks to your some what optimistic nature you dismissed the gloomy feeling. You had a father who loved you more than anything, and the crewmen were like uncles to you.

But three years ago your father died, along with most of the crewmen. His ship, the White Wraith, was blown to smithereens by a rivalling pirate and his ship, but you never found out whom exactly. You hadn’t been onboard then, but stayed on some nameless town running an errand for your father. The Wraith was a beautiful old ship, the only home you ever knew and yours to inherit after your father. But now, it’s nothing but a pile of wood lying on the bottom of Davy Jones’ Locker. The last three years, you’ve been on the move constantly, travelling from island to island and town to town; robbing, avoiding the law and trying to find yourself a new ship whose crew to join. No such luck yet, unfortunately. That pompous jerk Norrington has managed to put an end to many illicit businesses on Caribbean.

“Mo wrrk!” Otis yells to you as he suddenly appears in the kitchen again, bringing you out of your memories. He slams a load of dirty dishes next to the others. “’Ell, don’t jest stand aroun’, get back ta wrrk!” he barks with that weird accent, and then lumbers off again.

“Get back ta wrrrk!” You repeat mockingly, glaring at the dishes. No way are you washing any more dishes today. Or ever again in your life!

“I’m a self-respecting pirate, bloody ‘ell!” You yell angrily to the empty kitchen. Tightening the bandanna keeping your hair in order, you straighten up defiantly. You’re blowing this joint today. Where you go next, you have no idea. But anywhere else has to be better and more exiting than this!

Grabbing your rings from the table, you slip them on your fingers. You also put on two of your most valued possessions; a colourful bracelet made from beads, one that your father gave you when you were a little kid, and a silver pendant from your very first raid. You tighten the black leather belt around your waist, and make sure your old cutlass is firmly in place. It’s quite heavy and the blade’s a little bit wider than most cutlasses. That’s why it took you months and months to even master its use properly, for you had less strength to wield it than men did.

Now you’re all set to leave, because that’s all you own. You glance at the small, grimy piece of glass on the wall, serving as a mirror. The grey scarf you’ve tied over your forehead keeps your hair out of your eyes, dimmed silvery hoops hang from your earlobes, and both your upper and lower lids are thinly outlined with black. You took on that look in hopes to distinct yourself from other women; you are a pirate. That, and hey; it looks bloody good on you.

Female pirates were a rare sight, and usually men consider women weaker and worse in pirating. You’ve hear this one many times before. When you father met with other pirates, the most common phrase directed to you was; “What’s a lass like ye doing on a pirate ship? Shouldn’t ye be at home sewing?” The other one was; “It’s bad luck to have a woman on board!” Your father had only laughed heartily at those claims, saying they’d see later how wrong they were. And usually you did prove them wrong.

The life of a pirate is the only one you’ve ever known, and the only one you could even consider living. You’d never trade your comfortable breeches, boots and shirt for a dress. Maybe one day, you’ll have you own ship and a crew. Maybe one day you’ll make your father proud of you, where ever he may be. Throwing a one last look at the pile of dishes, you purposefully stride out of the kitchen. Carefully you step in a corridor that houses the stairs leading to the second floor, where Otis’ room is. That’s also where his safe is, hidden behind a tacky painting on the wall. How original of him.

A roaring laughter, drunken babbling, crashes and other various sounds float continuously from the actual tavern in front of the building, but you hardly pay any attention to it. Tortuga is a noisy town, littered with bars, whorehouses and other less respectable establishments. The concept “law” is pretty much unknown, and troublemakers are dealt with everyone’s own way here. This town is a haven for pirates, thieves and other scallywags and scoundrels of the Caribbean.

Creeping up the wooden stairs, you cringe as the steps creak under your weight. Walking silently along the darkened hallway to the door at the end of it, you carefully push it open a bit. Peeking in, you see that nobody’s in. Pushing the door fully open, you step inside the messy room. It’s only lit by the moonlight and the flecking fire of the torches along the roads outside; their yellowish light shining through the hole on the wall you might call a window. You nearly trip on one of the many empty rum bottles lying on the floor, causing you to hiss a curse. Finally you reach the wall with the ugly painting.

“So far so good,” you whisper to yourself, reaching up to take down the painting. You grab the pouch hanging from your belt that contains your various little tools and gadgets. Taking out the small knife and a piece of thin metal wire, you push the blade in the lock, loosening the locking mechanism a bit. Next, you bend the other end of the wire, and stick it in the lock as well, starting to actually pick the lock. Feeling around the lock with the wire, you finally feel the lock give away after what seems eternity. Pulling the safe open, you allow yourself a broad grin.

“Well, hello there,” you coo to the pouch lying in the middle of the safe, grabbing it and opening it. You raise your brows to the amount of shillings in there, there’s more than you expected. Otis was obviously wealthier than you imagined. Well all the better for you! Quickly closing the pouch, you fasten it to your belt as well, shut the safe and lift the painting back to its rightful place. With a gleeful chuckle, you sneak out of the room and head back to the stairwell.

You return back to the kitchen, making sure you forgot nothing. In the same minute, Otis appears. “Say lass, I’m goin’ up ta check up ‘n sumthin’. Be ‘ight back.”

You cover the money pouch on your belt with one hand, nodding as if nothing was wrong. “Alrighty, I’ll just… take care of these dishes,” you smile sweetly, waiting for him to leave. You know he’s going upstairs to count his money, you’ve noticed that he does that every night. And you sure as hell are not staying around to find out how he reacts when he notices your visit in his room.

Otis takes a better look at you. “Oy, ye look loik yer goin’ sumwhere. Not thinkin’ ‘bout runnin’ off?” He laughs at his own joke before you get to answer, and trudges off towards the stairs. You stay put until you hear the steps creak loudly under his considerate weight, and then bolt out of the kitchen door to the semi-crowded streets like there were a pack of hellhounds nipping at your heels.

* * * *

It’s well past midnight as you start walking quickly along the sandy street. Not quickly enough to draw attention to yourself but keeping a steady pace, the distance between you and Otis’ bar grows. Feeling the comforting weight of the shilling pouch on your belt, you grin to yourself. Finally now that you’ve got some money, you’re free to do what you want.

You glance around, just taking in the sights. “Ah, Tortuga…”

There’s really no other place like this. People laughing, drinking, firing their pistols, telling tales, swaggering drunkenly along the streets… It’s really not that bad when one gets used to it, and if one fits in the general crowd. In other words, you have nothing to worry about. Some people here recognize you, but the rest of them think you’re just another pirate; nothing unusual.

While you pass by the various bars and brothels, you start to wonder what you’re going to do now. It might be best to leave Tortuga for a while, and come back after Otis has calmed down. Actually, you’re not sure if he ever calms down, but oh well. That’s not the point here. But where are you to go?

Suddenly you think of something. You have a cousin in Port Royal who you’ve met only once when you were about seven. She was maybe just barely three years old then. Maybe this would be a great time to visit? The only thing that worries you a bit is the fact that she’s pretty high up, not exactly a one to befriend a pirate. Her father is the governor of Port Royal. He’s also your uncle, but you don’t remember ever meeting him. And truth be told, you don't really even want to. But, one can worry about that later. Determinately, you start to walk towards the port, off to meet your cousin Elizabeth Swann.

“’Ey! You!” A high-pitched voice shouts somewhere behind you. You turn around curiously, your other hand dropping on the hilt of your sword instinctively. A woman, maybe a bit shorter than you, is hurrying up to meet you. She’s dressed entirely in red. With her red hair done, crimson rouge and face covered in powder, it doesn’t take a genius to see that she’s a prostitute. What the bloody hell does she want with you? You narrow your eyes suspiciously, waiting for her to catch up.

She stops in front of you, crossing her arms. “You’re a pirate, aren’t you?”

“Aye.” When in doubt, keep your answers short and uninformative. That’s what your father always used to say.

“So, you know other pirates, right?” She shakes her head a bit as she talks. You roll your eyes. Does she know all the other prostitutes?

“Look, miss…” You begin, but she cuts you off rudely.

“My name is Scarlett.” She states, regarding your attire distastefully. What? You think, annoyed. You just bathed two days ago.

“Scarlett, huh? How appropriate. Well, Scarlett, yes I do know some other pirates but not by all means all of ‘em. Do you know all the other prostitutes?” You ask pleasantly with a smirk. This woman obviously is not too bright.

Scarlett squeaks in outrage, glaring at you. “We prefer to be called ‘pleasurable company’.”

You nearly lose your composure and laugh out loud. To your credit, you only chuckle. “Oh, I’m sorry,” You say, rather insincerely. “I’ll be sure to remember that the next time. Look, I’m in a hurry here, so…?” Could she just spit it out?

Scarlett lets out an impatient sigh. “I’m looking for Jack Sparrow, do you know him?”

You blink. Whoa! You do know a lot of different people, but the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow unfortunately does not belong to your circle of acquaintances. Aye, you’ve hear of him, but who hasn’t?

“I know of him, but I don’t know him personally. Sorry.”

“Pirates,” Scarlett hisses like a curse, storming off in a huff. What bit her in the arse today? Captain Sparrow’s taste in company could be better if he keeps her around waiting. A girl in every port, eh, Jack? Shaking your head, you continue your way towards the docks and decide to forget about the whole encounter.

* * * *

“Hey! ‘Scuse me!” You yell to the burly man herding pigs in a ship that looks like she’s seen better days. But the choices are rather limited right now, and you’ll rather travel with pigs than in the other ship that looks like she’s about to sink any minute.

“Whaddya want?” The man yells back, clearly annoyed to be distracted.

“Are you sailing to Port Royal, by any chance?” You ask in your best manner, hoping the answer is a yes. Otherwise you’re stuck in here until other ships arrive.

“Aye, we are taking these there. What’s it to ya?” The man answers, herding the last hog onboard.

“Well, I was wondering if you could kindly take me with you. I have some urgent business in Port Royal.” You start, making your way to stand next to the man. He’s a bit overweight, sweaty and dirty. Much like the hogs he was herding just a moment ago.

He regards you with raised brow. “Ya want out of here, aye? Wait, you’re not a pirate, are ya? I don’t want the Navy soldiers on my ship!”

You put on your best innocent-look. “Me? Of course I’m not! Why, I wouldn’t be asking for a ride if I were. Naw, I’m just an ordinary woman trying to get to Port Royal. See, I have relatives there, I’m going to visit them.”

He’s clearly still not convinced, eyeing your cutlass and attire. “Ya look like a pirate to me.”

Oy, this is not going well at all. “Aye, I might look like one, but I swear I’m not. The cutlass is for protection only. C’mon, have you ever seen a woman as a pirate?” You say laughingly, hoping he goes for it.

He’s silent for a while, and then nods reluctantly. “Aye, fine. Ya can come with us. But it’s not gonna be free. Ya have any money?”

You shake your head. You’re not going to pay with your rightfully barrowed money; you’d rather work for the trip. “No, but I could work for it. I’m a hard worker and a fair sailor as well.”

“We don’t need sailors, we got enough of ‘em onboard. Can ya clean? The pigs make a mean mess.”

Clean?! “D-don’t you have a hold for them?” You stammer incredulously. The man laughs heartily at your baffled expression.

“Do ya see a hold in ‘ere? Naw, the pigs’ll have to be kept on the deck.”

Great, just great. You’ll have to travel among pigs, literally. Hopefully the sea stays calm; it would be a sight if the pigs were swept in the sea by the waves. Oh well, guess it could be worse.

“Aye, I can clean. Dishes are my speciality.” You grimace. So much for that no dishes-promise.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 2 - Welcome to Port Royal

Gazing at the horizon, you exhale gratefully. Land in sight, thank goodness! After spending the night on the small ship with the smelly pigs, you’re ready to jump in the water and swim the rest of the way. You lean your forearms on the railing, staring ahead. The day is bright, and the salty smell of the sea and the wind on your face feel like heaven; you had almost forgotten what it’s like. If only you had your own ship to travel across the seas…

The insistent tugging at your leg snaps you out of your thoughts. Glancing down, you see a pig trying to eat the leg of your breeches. “Oy! Get off!” You yell at it, kicking the hog on its snout lightly. It squeals indignantly but backs off, trudging away. You shake your head; you’ve also had enough of the damn pigs and the bloody cleaning!

Swearing you’ll never eat pork again, you start wandering towards the helm to find the captain, dodging the rampant pigs on the deck. The man you talked to earlier, one that herded the pigs, owns the ship but it’s captained by some old sailor.

“How much longer, you think?” You ask the captain after reaching the helm, fixing your gaze at the still distant cove that houses the fine town of Port Royal.

The old man strokes his greying beard thoughtfully for a while. “It could be an hour, but then again it be two. This isn’t a fast boat, lass.”

Rolling your eyes to his answer, you nod. “Aye, I know it’s not. Which port will you be docking to?”

Port Royal had more than enough ports, but usually everybody used the main port. Traders and merchants normally docked to the eastern port where the cargo was easier to unload. The main port is however guarded and watched more closely than the eastern port, and the Crown forces didn’t take kindly to pirates in Port Royal. Actually, they didn’t take kindly to pirates in general, either.

The old captain is silent for a while again. Looking at you, he smiles. “I was thinkin’ about docking to the main port… But since you’re onboard, we’ll make it the eastern one.”

You glance at the man sharply. The old man laughs. “Aye, I know you’re a pirate. You don’t make much fuss about it, but I have seen and heard much in my life. And I know a pirate when I see one.”

You should have known as much. “Did you tell him?” You ask warily, indicating the burly owner who currently is yelling to one of his crewmembers on the other end of the ship. You never even bothered to inquire his name.

“Naw. You don’t seem to be too much of a trouble, like some others,” The old man answers lightly, turning the rudder slightly. Well, the owner would have probably thrown you overboard already if he knew the truth.

You hum in amusement as you sit of the ship’s railing. You like this old man, unlike the owner. He reminds you too much of Otis, who has by now probably burst a blood vessel with all his raging about the missing money. You chuckle aloud; now that’s something you’d like to see!

Turning your gaze from the old captain back to the horizon, you start to think about the upcoming meeting. Does Elizabeth even remember she has a cousin? One that’s a pirate, at that? Has her father told her about your mother and about her running off with your father? Impossible to know, but you figure he probably hasn’t. Surely Governor Swann doesn’t want to dwell on such a shameful event, much less tell her daughter that? He’s probably only happy that you haven’t turned up to remind him about his sister’s decision to run off with a pirate. For all they know, you might as well be dead. Oh well, no need to dwell on that now. Besides, you’re off to see Elizabeth, not her father. If nothing else, the meeting should at least be interesting.

“Say, lass…” The captain’s voice brings you out of your thoughts, “What do you say we have something to drink?” He asks mischievously and digs up a bottle of rum somewhere among the various crates and boxes stored next to the helm.

You feel a lopsided grin spreading to you lips as you look at the bottle containing golden brown liquid. “Oh, I just love you!” You grin broadly to the old man who chuckles, passing the bottle to you. Taking a swig, you close your eyes momentarily as the liquor slides down your throat. First comes the burning sensation, then the warming feeling as the mellow aftertaste lingers in your mouth. You haven’t had a decent drink in ages, but damn the stuff is always just as good as ever.

“Thank you. Good stuff ye have there,” you comment as you pass the bottle back.

“Aye, it’s the finest brand. No substitutes when it comes to rum, lass!” The old sailor takes a good, long swig, and you wonder if he’s going to drink the whole bottle empty. For the next hour or so, you sit on the railing and listen to the old captain telling his stories, and in turn telling him about your current journey.

“Your cousin, eh? Aye, I remember that incident,” The old man says, and your gaze snaps from the bottle your holding in your hand to meet his.

“You do? How? Tell me!” You demand anxiously. The only stories you’ve heard about it was from your father, and you can hardly believe somebody else would know about that.

“I was working on the port at the time, many years ago… Well, I don’t know the details of course, but the rumour was that miss Melissa Swann, your mother I gather, fancied the infamous Bloodshot Pete himself! What a tale was that, the Swann’s were not pleased. Well, those were just stories then, but one day did the White Wraith herself sail to Port Royal… Aye, with sails of the purest white any man had ever seen.”

You nod more to yourself, emerged in memories of your father, Peter Byrne alias Bloodshot Pete and his glorious ship. The Wraith did get her name from her sails; they were always kept clean and white. You were the only one who sometimes called your father Peter. Others addressed him as Pete or Bloodshot.

“And on that day, the Captain himself met the lady, pleading her to sail away with him for he had been struck by love for the fair lady. Lady Swann agreed, but her family of course did not. As their last resort, they threatened to disown her from the family if she were to leave with Bloodshot Pete. But she did, I tell you! She didn’t care, for she was obviously very much in love with the pirate.”

“Aye. She was…” You say quietly. Of that you have no doubt.

The old man nods, hesitant to break the silence. However, you look at him in the eyes and wordlessly plead him to go on.

“And what news was that, eh. A respectable lady running off with a pirate! The Navy soldiers tried to stop Bloodshot and his ship, but no avail. They escaped miraculously, indeed, I don’t know how. But that was the talk of the town for the longest time. Never did they return to Port Royal after that, no...” The old man finishes the story. He is silent for a minute again, and then looks at you.

“I saw Miss Swann many times when working at the port. She loved the sea, obviously, always came to see it. You look a lot like her, indeed.”

You smile sadly. “Those would be ways for me to know her. She passed away while giving birth to me well over twenty years ago,” you clarify to the Captain who’s looking at you quizzically.

“Ah…” The sailor murmurs sadly, shaking his head sympathetically. “I’m sorry, lass. But, I can see you fallowed in your father’s footsteps. Aye, I’m sure he’d be proud.”

You smile slightly again, discreetly wiping you eyes. Bloody wind, it’s making your eyes water…

“So, won’t be long till we dock.” He announces suddenly, and you turn your head to look. The cove of Port Royal is close now; it truly won’t take long until you’re on land. Admiring the lush flora surrounding the town, your eyes fix on something not so admirable. There, attached on a huge rock formation towering from the blue sea, hang three skeletons covered in rags that once served the poor bastards as clothing. ‘Pirates ye be warned’ reads on a wooden sign that hangs beside the corpses. An ironic smile curves your mouth.

“Aye, I hear ye,” You say to yourself. They really did not like pirates around here! But like that’s going to stop you. The old captain steers the little ship past the main port towards the eastern one, and you examine the busy port closely.

You spot something sticking in the water next to the wooden platform that looks like a… mast? Indeed, it is a mast. You see the shape of a boat in the clear water. Someone was very lucky to have made it to the dock before the boat went down under. Shrugging, you shift your gaze up along the platform, and see an older man, your guess it’s the harbourmaster, talking to someone.

You cock your head slightly as your examine the other man. One word springs to your mind instantly; a pirate. If he’s not a pirate, you’ll sign up as a dish-washer to a nearest bar. Brown boots, long coat, hands waving slightly as he speaks to the shorter harbourmaster, long dark hair, and tri-corn hat. You don’t see anything else from the distance, but grin appreciatively as he starts swaggering along the platform, a slight sway in his walk. Sea legs, no doubt about it. Now, he could be a very interesting acquaintance…

The ship you’re on glides over the waters smoothly and you lose the sight of the mysterious pirate. Biting your lower lip in thought, you wonder who he was. You’ve certainly never met him before; you’d remember someone as unique as he appeared to be. There’s no ship around he could have arrived on, unless… that sunken boat. Chuckling in amusement, you try to picture it. He seems to be a kind of person who’d no doubt look just as proud and confident in a half-sunken little boat than onboard a grand ship. Your father too had that kind of air around him.

“Here’s our dock, lass!” The old sailor says, once again bringing you out of your musings. Carefully, he brings the small ship full of pigs (human and animal) to the eastern dock, which is not quite as busy and bustling with life as the main one.

After docking, you get up from the railing and stretch your legs. You smile to the old Captain who truly was a pleasant travel partner, and not just because of the tale he told about your parents. You take the pouch from your belt, and grab a few shillings in your hand. Giving them to the old man, you smile. “’Ere, get yourself some rum or something. And thank your for everything.”

“Ah, you’re a good lass. It was no problem. If you need anything, look me up. If I’m here, I’ll help ya if I can,” he smiles, and you shake hands with him. Then you make your way out of the ship, dodging the rampant hogs, and start wondering through the streets of Port Royal.

* * * *

Looking ahead, you can’t help but to scrunch your nose in disgust. There they are, the finest of the King’s Naval forces, parading around and showing respect to their new Commodore; James Norrington. That guy is going be even biggest pest after this, undoubtedly…

After scouting the streets and looking for the Swann residence, you found out that everyone of least importance would be attending to Norrington’s promotion ceremony held at the fort. So, you headed there, sneaking inside while nobody was paying attention on the entrance. Placing yourself in a dark doorway, you lean against the wall and fallow the fancy ceremony.

The sun shines brightly upon the fort and the ladies are all fanning themselves. You feel grateful for your light shirt and breeches. One lady in particular catches your attention; a young woman in light-coloured beautiful dress, who seems to be feeling very uncomfortable. Next to her stands an elderly gentleman in a long, greyish wig and decorative garments. Governor Swann and Elizabeth.

Studying Elizabeth, you remember the happy little girl with curly hair that was browner than the dark blond it seems to be nowadays. She was barely three when you last saw each other, for the first and the only time since now. There had been some kind of festival on Port Royal then, and your father had brought you there. It had been risky, but the town was so full of people from different places then that the danger of getting caught was less prominent. You’d seen Elizabeth then, even exchanged a few words with her. Although, that probably wasn’t saying much about a seven-year-old and a three-year-old. But one thing hadn’t changed; you were still dirty and dressed meagerly while Elizabeth was clean and refined, a real lady.

The ceremony was clearly drawing near to its end, and you figure it’s better to leave before anyone notices your probably unwanted presence. Slinking silently off, you head towards the entrance. You throw one last look back, and see Elizabeth being escorted away by that creep Norrington. Ew. Oh well, time to worry about your own fortunes now, like getting out of here.

Suddenly you hear noises coming towards you, and you glance around frantically. Quickly hiding behind a stone pillar, you flatten yourself behind it. The footsteps are closer now, and you can head the voices discussing.

“A pirate? Are you sure?” The first voice says.

“Positive, sir!”

Blazes! You think. How do they know about me already? Your day just kept getting better and better. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea to come here after all…

“We must inform Commodore Norrington immediately!” Before they manage to say anything else, the said Commodore rushes to meet them with few soldiers and Governor Swann himself.

“Commodore, Sir, there’s been a sighting of a pirate, he’s-“

“Yes, yes, I’ve been told! Miss Swann fell off the battlement, off to the shore, now!!” He barks, rushing off and out of the entrance with the soldiers and the Governor at his heels.

Elizabeth fell? Bloody hell! You just knew hanging around that creep is nothing but trouble! Then you remember that the pirate was referred as “he”, so it wasn’t you they were after. Leaving your hideout, you notice that the guards on the entrance are gone. Thanking your lucky stars, you run out of the fort, heading towards the shore. You must be out of your mind, but you have to know what happened to Elizabeth.

* * * *

Arriving to the dock where the soldiers and Norrington are bustling about, you’re relieved to find out she’s been rescued and seems to be alright. Positioning yourself at the end of the long platform, half-hidden behind crates, you strain to hear what is being said.

That’s when you see him; the mysterious pirate, this time without his hat and coat. He’s also soaking wet.

“Shoot him!” You hear Governor Swann’s voice order.

“Father!” Elizabeth cries, and then turns to Norrington, “Commodore, do you really intend to kill my rescuer?”

Norrington’s regards Elizabeth for a while, then the pirate. Finally, he speaks up, offering his hand. “I believe thanks are in order.”

The pirate has his hands raised slightly in front of him; his dark eyes are darting somewhat suspiciously from Norrington’s face to his outstretched hand. Hesitantly, he grabs it with his own dirty hand. Norrington, however, pushes the man’s sleeve off his wrist with his other hand, looking pleased with what he sees. You can guess what it is, many pirates have it. Even you.

“Had a brush with the East India Trading company, did we, pirate?” He asks smugly, and the pirate winces.

The Governor is appalled. “Hang him!” The pirate shoots a look at the Governor that clearly says; “Excuse me?”

“Keep your guns on him, men. Gillette, fetch some irons,” Norrington orders, but keeps his eyes on the man’s wrist, pushing the sleeve back some more. “Well, well… Jack Sparrow isn’t it?” he says. The pirate pulls his hand away, swaying slightly but straightening his stance quickly.

“Captain Jack Sparrow, if you please, sir.” Sparrow corrects with a wave of his hand. You can feel your jaw dropping. That is Jack Sparrow? The Jack Sparrow?

“Well, I don’t see your ship, Captain,” Norrington daunts him, but Sparrow doesn’t seem to be put off by this in the least.

Sparrow shrugs ever so slightly, swaying in a unique manner that makes him appear tipsy. “I’m in the market. As it were,” he responds with a small smirk, seemingly untroubled by the situation.

“He said he’d come to commandeer one,” One of the soldiers speaks up, and Sparrow looks at him.

“Told you he was telling the truth! These are his, Sir.” The other says with satisfaction, handing him Sparrow’s things.

Norrington inspects his pistol with a distasteful frown. “No additional shots, nor powder,” he picks up something you can make out from the distance, “A compass that doesn’t point north,” he snorts a small laugh, looking at Sparrow condescendingly before putting the compass down and unsheathes his sword a bit. “And I half expected it to be made of wood.” He smirks. “You are without a doubt the worst pirate I’ve ever heard of!”

Jack holds up his hands, raising both his index fingers, “But you have heard of me,” he points out, smirking downright mischievously.

You grin broadly at this. Even when held at gunpoint, he can still be patronizing. Norrington has obviously had enough of the verbal pirate, and drags him along to Gillette who has the irons.

“Commodore, I really must protest!” Elizabeth exclaims sternly, moving along with the men.

“Careful, lieutenant,” Norrington warns Gillette who puts the irons on Jack’s wrists.

“Pirate or not, this man saved my life!” You mentally cheer Elizabeth on.

“One good deed is not enough to redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness!”

“Though it seems enough to condemn 'im,” Jack throws in nonchalantly.

“Indeed!” Norrington almost sneers as Gillette moves away from Jack.

“Finally,” Jack mutters almost ominously, quickly throwing the irons around Elizabeth’s neck, drawing her close. Your spine straightens. He wouldn’t hurt her, would he...?

“No, don’t shoot!” The Governor cries in despair.

“I knew you’d warm up to me,” Jack grins in almost feral way to the Governor, before looking at Norrington. “Commodore Norrington, my effects, please. And my hat!” He quickly adds with a raised finger.

Norrington only stares, doing nothing. “Commodore!” Jack repeats with a tone that brooks no arguments. Norrington finally glances at one of the soldiers, who hands Elizabeth the effects.

“Elizabeth. It is Elizabeth isn’t it?” Jack asks her.

“It’s Miss Swann,” Elizabeth hisses venomously.

“Miss Swann, if you’d be so kind,” Sparrow coaxes, but Elizabeth is reluctant to help. “Come, come, we don’t have all day!” he says forcefully, spinning Elizabeth around to face him and pointing the pistol to her head. “Now if you’d be very kind.”

Elizabeth straps on his cutlass, and puts on his hat. Jack has a smirk on his face, looking smugly pleased with himself. The sight of the two of them like that is almost comical; you can’t help but to smirk. You know that man is not going to harm Elizabeth; that’s probably exactly what you’d do yourself in a situation like that.

“Easy on the goods, darling!” Jack warns Elizabeth as she yanks a bit harder, and you chuckle.

“You’re despicable,” Elizabeth glowers at the taller man who regards her with mild amusement.

“Sticks and stones, luv. I saved your life, you saved mine, we’re square.” He tells Elizabeth, and again spins her around to face the others. ”Gentlemen, milady,” he includes, glancing down at Elizabeth as he slowly back down, taking her with him, “You will always remember this as the day that you almost caught… Captain Jack Sparrow!”

Pushing Elizabeth roughly towards Norrington who catches her, Jack turns and makes a miraculous escape, grabbing the nearby rope and kicking down some kind of lever that releases a small cannon to fall down on the dock; the weight of the cannon pulling the rope that Jack’s clutching up. You don’t see how he did it exactly, but by the time the soldiers are firing at him, he’s already running up the bridge leading to the city, his hands held almost in comical fashion in front of him as he does so.

Deciding not to stick around to see what happens next, you turn and are about to run off as well. However, you find yourself staring at the business end of a pistol. Shifting your gaze from the pistol to the naval soldier holding it, you manage a grin and a small wave. “Um, hi there?”

The soldier raises his brow, studying you. “And just what do you think you’re doing here?”

“Oh, I’m just visiting my relatives,” you shrug. “You?”

“Come on, on your feet, pirate!” He barks, and you comply. Grabbing your arm, he starts steering you off the docks.

“Ow!” You cry indignantly at his hard grip. “You know if you wanted to go on a date that badly, all you had to do was to ask…”

“The only date you are having is with the gallows, and perhaps with the hangman,” he smirks in a very annoying manner.

“Oy, that’s nice and all, but I’d really rather not—“

“It’s not an option, miss.” He silences you with a glare.

“Alright, alright! Bloody hell…” You mutter under your breath. Welcome to Port Royal, indeed!

* * * * *

CHAPTER 3 - Jailbirds

“Oy, watch it! I bruise easily!” You wail noisily as the annoying soldier drags you along the roads of Port Royal. The irons on your wrists are chafing your skin, and there seriously could be some major improvements with the friendliness of the soldiers.

The passers-by stare at you, muttering and pointing fingers at you. What? Haven’t they ever seen a pirate before? The children are looking at you with awe, but most of the adults regard you with disgust or fear.

Another Navy man approaches you, but he’s not another private since he’s wearing a blue uniform. He man stops in front of you to talk to the soldier grasping your arm, looking disdainful.

“Smith? What is the meaning of this?” he asks Smith, the guy holding you.

“Lieutenant Jefferson, Sir, I found this pirate near the harbour. She was obviously stalking the Governor. She was armed with this,” Smith explains, showing Jefferson your cutlass in its scabbard he’s holding in his other hand.

“What? That’s a big load of-” You start to argue, but Jefferson interrupts. How rude!

“Quiet, pirate! It would do you good to hold your mouth,” he says condescendingly, looking you over. “Pirates will not be tolerated in Port Royal. We will make sure everyone sailing under a pirate flag get what they deserve. Smith?”

“Yes, sir?” Smith snaps to attention, disgustingly eager to please Jefferson.

“Lock her in the brig. She’ll have a meeting with the hangman at dawn.” Jefferson looks at you with an overly smug smirk. “After you’ve dealt with her, report back to me. We’re still searching for that damned Jack Sparrow. Don’t worry, you’ll have a cellmate soon enough,” He tells you arrogantly. You just roll your eyes.

“At once, sir!” Smith says, and then starts dragging you along again.

“You know, that Jefferson fellow really didn’t seem like a nice superior. Do you always grovel before him like that?” You ask Smith conversationally.

“Pipe down, will you? I’m tired of listening to your complaints,” He snaps back.

“Well sooo-rry for asking!” You say, dragging the word. “I hope there be someone to talk to down in the brig. I get bored very easily, you see.”

“There’ll be plenty of other scoundrels there, ones just like you,” Smith replies in fed up manner. Oh, you do hope you’re not annoying him... Not!

“Hey, you’re the one to talk. You don’t even know me!” You argue, but receive no reply. Hmh, you had hoped for a better opponent. Oh well.

Finally you arrive back to the fort, and Smith escorts you inside. The dim stone hallways not really making you feel welcomed. After many turns, Smith leads you down the stairs. There, you see a row of cells. One of them is occupied by a bunch of really dirty and ugly men, probably some thieves or possibly pirates. Smith releases his grip of you, and hangs your cutlass on the wall that already has other various weapons and confiscated items.

“Give me those,” he orders, indicating the small pouches hanging from your belt.

“Why?” You ask, pretending to be clueless. This mate really is fun to tease.

“Give them to me or I will remove them myself!”

“Alright, alright!” You mumble, taking off the pouches and handing them to Smith. He hangs them on the wall as well with your sword. Then he opens the door of the cell nearest to the entrance, ushering you in. The door slams shut behind you, trapping you in.

“Oy! What about these?” You cry, holding up your hands that are still shackled with the irons. Smith lets out a sigh, and moves back from the entrance, key in hand. You push your wrist trough the bars, and he unlocks the lock. You repeat the action to you other wrist, and Smith pulls the irons away, throwing them on the floor near the entrance.

“Thanks!” You yell after him, but he’s already gone. That leaves you alone in your cell, with those men in the cell to your right.

“Lookie what they brought ‘ere, mates!” One of the men shouts, looking at you.

“Ah, what’s a lass like ye doin’ ‘ere?” Other asks a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“I could ask you that as well. I mean, there’s so many of you and you still got caught?” You tsk, shaking your head.

“Oy, ‘twas not our fault! We were betrayed, aye!” One with a shaggy beard replies, nodding forcefully.

“Aye, and now were doomed to wait ‘ere to be hanged!”

You nod thoughtfully. “Aye, frightfully bad luck there, mates.” That’s your destiny as well if you are to stick around here. Pirates only have one fate here, and that’s to get their necks stuck in a noose.

Sighing, you glance around the cell. It’s not as grimy as you expected, with some hay strewn across the floor it looks almost nice. Well, nicer than some other cells you’ve been stuck in. Luckily you always managed to pick the locks with your little tools and escape, but now Smith took your pouches away. It was a well-known fact that your father was a wizard when it came to picking locks. There were few he couldn’t open, and he tried to teach this talent to you as well as he could. No, you’re by no means as good as he was, but you manage fairly well.

Climbing up on the stony outcropping that serves as a bench, you grab the bars of the window and gaze out. The view is magnificent; you can see nearly the entire town and the cove. Sun is still shining, although it’s not so high above any longer. You figure it’s well past afternoon already, maybe bordering on early evening. Giving up, you jump down, slowly walking over the stony border next to the cell wall. Sitting down, you lean your side on the bars and lift your feet up as well. Drumming your fingers on your knees, you wonder what to do next. This is indeed a sticky predicament you landed yourself this time.

Suddenly you remember the elusive Captain Jack Sparrow. He’s still on the run somewhere in the city, and you wonder if the redcoats will actually manage to catch him. Nah, probably not. He seemed pretty slippery.

Suddenly you hear voices from the stairs, and before you get to assess them properly, two soldiers and Lieutenant Jefferson appear, dragging an unconscious man with them. You recognize the wild hair immediately; it’s the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow.

Alright, so maybe not that slippery after all...

“Put him in there,” Jefferson nods towards you. “I did promise you’d get a cellmate soon.”

You make a face at the Lieutenant as he opens the cell door. The soldiers drag Jack inside, dropping him on the floor. You wince in sympathy as he hits the ground, but he probably felt nothing. The soldiers shut and lock the door again, giving the keys to a grey-furred dog you didn’t even notice until now. The dog retreats under a wooden bench where it obviously had been lying before, the keys firmly clamped in its jaws.

“Behave, you two,” Jefferson jibes amusedly, and then leaves with soldiers. It’s quiet again, the men in the other cell all seem to be sleeping or minding their own businesses.

You stare at the man lying on the floor, face down. His long, dreadlocked hair that’s hiding his face is decorated with beads and other various little things; a red bandanna holds it somewhat under control. He has a white shirt under a bluish vest and dark breeches, and those knee-high brown boots. His worn tri-corn hat lies on the floor next to him. His hands are somewhat grimy, and on his right hand there’s an obviously self-made, leather palm guard. On his right fore finger, he wears a silver ring with large sapphire on it.

Carefully, you get up, walking over him. Crouching down, you hesitate. Should you turn him over, that looks like an uncomfortable pose? You spot something glimmering in his hair, and lift one dreadlock. It’s glass. You suspect these shards are not part of his attire, and start picking them off. You’re suddenly struck by an image of two monkeys, picking ticks from each others fur. You grin and smother down your laugh, concentrating on the task at hand. After a while, you think you’ve had the most off. Carefully, you weave your fingers through his thick locks, feeling his scalp. No wound, luckily. Scalp wounds tend to bleed nastily.

Sitting back on you hunches, you wonder what to do. Finally deciding to turn him over, you stand up. Stepping next to him and kneeling, you slip your hands under his arms, and with all your might, lift. You manage to lift him up a little, enough for you to grab a better hold of his chest with your other hand. Pulling his back towards your chest, you suddenly lose your footing and fall flat on your back, pulling Jack with you. You’re now lying on the floor; with still unconscious Jack Sparrow sprawled over you, his back on your chest.

“Aw, damn it… Not that I have anything against a handsome man lying on top of me, but...” You grumble, and with the remaining strength you have left, push your hands between the two of you. “...I’d like him to be conscious at the time!” Supporting his head, you manage to wedge him down and crawl away under him. Finally, he’s lying on his back with his head cradled on your lap...

...And you’re dumbstruck by how ruggedly handsome he is. His closed eyes are outlined with smudged kohl, much more thickly than yours. His skin is tanned, and the look is completed with dark moustache and a goatee that has two braids with few beads in them. You quirk an approving eyebrow. Yep, you’d definitely remember if you would have met him before.

Easing his head from your lap carefully, you stand up again. Glancing towards the other cell, you notice that the men are trying to call the dog, coaxing it to bring them the keys. But the dog just looks at them with a “get real” look, staying still. You snort. They’ll be doing that for a while, that dog isn’t all that stupid. Ignoring the scruffy men, you return your glance to the unconscious Captain. Shouldn’t he be waking up already? Damn, what if he has a concussion?

Kneeling down again, you lower your face closer to his. You can’t help it, but this particular man intrigues you, and you’re concerned about his current state of health. The fact that he’s probably the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen honestly has nothing to do with it. Just as you bring you other hand closer to his neck, about to check his pulse to see if he’s even breathing properly, his eyes suddenly snap wide open, orbs of deep brown staring right back at you. Your own eyes widen and you spring away from him with a small, startled yelp.

Jack blinks a few times, his eyes darting everywhere around the brig before finally settling back on you. “’Ello, luv,” he greets you in a rough, deep voice.

“Uh, hi.” You reply. “You okay? Looks like someone got you good.”

With a grunt, Jack props himself up. Leaning his hands on the ground, he looks at you again. “Takes more then that to beat Captain Jack Sparrow, luv. Where’s me hat?”

“Your hat?” You repeat slowly, slightly amused. He just woke up and the man wants his hat?

“Aye, me hat! You know what that is, don’t you…?” He asks with a slight grin curling his lips upwards.

Rolling your eyes, you reach for his hat lying on the ground. “Here you go.”

“Ah, thank you,” He says, placing the hat on his head. Perusing the cell with his lips pursed, he narrows his eyes. Then, his dark eyes land on you again. “For how long, exactly, have I been here?”

“Not much longer than ten, fifteen minutes.”

“Ah,” He nods, his eyes never leaving yours. You notice how the black kohl complements his brown eyes. His intense stare is beginning to make you a tad nervous and you’re about to say something, but Jack beats you to it.

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced, luv. I’m Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service,” he grins, waving his right hand in a small circle in the air before offering it to you. You raise a brow, but grab his larger hand with your own and shake it, giving him your name.

Again, he purses his lips slightly, seemingly deep in thought. “Byrne… sounds awfully familiar. Who’s your father?”

“My father was Captain Bloodshot Pete of the White Wraith,” you say, watching his reaction.

“Really?” He says, raising an eyebrow. “Interesting… Aye, now I remember. Bloodshot did have a daughter onboard.” He goes on, talking more to himself than you, his expression unreadable.

“Yep, that was me,” You say lightly, not wanting to dwell on it. The loss of your father still weights heavily on your heart.

“And the Wraith, it was a beautiful ship. Just like the-“ Jack starts, cuts himself off, looking away.

You’re puzzled by his abrupt silence, but don’t want to push the matter. Instead, you reply. “Aye, it was. Too bad it now lies in shards on the bottom of Davy Jones’ Locker.”

Jack regards you for a while with some unknown emotion, and then stands up, brushing dust from his clothes. “What say you about getting out of here?”

You look at him incredulously. Does he have some miraculous plan on how to escape? “And how exactly do you suggest we do that?” you ask sarcastically.

“Yer Bloodshot’s daughter, right?” Jack states more than asks, raising his hands in front of him, index fingers pointing at you.

“Aye…” You agree suspiciously. Where is he getting with this?

Jack comes very close, stopping in front of you. “It’s a known fact Bloodshot was vee-ry good in picking locks…” His low voice caresses your ears, and you hope you’re not trembling. Luckily he moves next to the cell door, pointing at the lock with his finger, “…locks like these. I figure he taught you how, right?”

You smirk. “Aye, he did.”

Jack’s smile becomes a full grin, flashing you some of his golden teeth. “Problem solved!” He declares, waving his hands around as he takes a few steps closer. “You get us out; I go free, you go free, we both go free and live happily ever after. Savvy?”

“Good plan, but… Oh, right. They took away my tools while they locked me up. I can’t pick the lock with my fingers.” You say, crossing your arms.

Jack’s grin vanishes, and he frowns sulkily. “Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?!” He raises his voice, his hands waving. That seems to be pretty typical behaviourism for him.

“You didn’t ask!”

“’You didn’t ask!’” Jack imitates, rolling his eyes. “Women!”

“Oy!” You yell indignantly. “I liked you better when you were unconscious!”

At that, Jack grins smugly. “Aye, I could tell. After all, you could hardly keep your hands off of me.”

Your eyes widen in shock. “You were awake?! Why didn’t you say anything?”

Jack sits down on the same outcropping you vacated a while ago, leaning his back on the wall. Smiling mischievously, he winks to you. “Ah, where’s the fun in that?” With that, he pulls his hat over his eyes. “I’m getting some shuteye, if you don’t mind.”

You stare at the man in disbelief. He has got to be the most eccentric person you’ve ever met. Shaking your head, you sit down as well, on the other side of the small cell. Leaning you back against the bars, you hope Jack gets some idea of how to escape while asleep. Otherwise you both are going to be in some serious trouble...

* * * * *

CHAPTER 4 — The Black Pearl

“Twenty-two bottles of rum on the wall, twenty-two bottles of rum…! If one o’ the bottles would happen to fall, then twenty-one bottles o’ rum on the wall!” You belt out to fill the annoying silence. Both you and Jack have remained on your places for the last hour or so, and you’re bored out of your wits. Much to your dismay, nobody else seems to be appreciating your efforts to lighten up the mood.

“Oy, please spare us!” One of the scallywags in the next cell moans.

“Ah, what would you know?” You snap irritably, your nerves shot. The approaching meeting with the hangman certainly isn’t making things any better, neither is this sitting around idly.

“I hate to tell you luv, but you aren’t much of a singer,” Jack comments dryly, speaking up for the first time for a while. His hat is still pulled over his eyes.

“Oh yeah? Let’s hear you do better!” You say challengingly, narrowing your eyes.

“You're getting a tad cranky…”

“Am not!”

“Are too,” Jack replies with annoying calmness.

“Am—" You start to argue, but shut up after realizing how bloody immature you sound. What the hell is the matter with you? You’ve faced hanging before, you’ve been imprisoned before, you’ve had to be patient and still before, what makes this time so different? You shoot a long look at the pirate on the other side of the cell, frowning in thought. Nah, no way. This has nothing to do with Jack Sparrow!

“’Ere, doggy, doggy! We got a nice bone fer ya! C’mon!” A voice says suddenly in the other cell, breaking the silence. You roll your eyes heavenward as the men in the next cell again attempt to coax the dog closer with a bone they've dug up somewhere. Just when you thought they would have realized the simple fact that the dog would not move, they start all over again… simpleminded fools. But suppose the threat of being hanged at dawn makes everyone to try everything in attempts to escape.

Once again ignoring the men, you glance up at the small window. The sun is setting, and it’s beginning to get dark. The cellblock is also getting dark, there’s no light at all. Luckily the other pirates gave up on the dog at this time, succumbing to the fact the dog won’t come. With a sigh, you once again lean your head on the bars.

“What's the matter? You afraid of the dark?” Jack suddenly asks after catching your sigh, and although his hat hides much of his face and it’s dim, you can hear the smirk in his voice. And to think you actually thought him attractive… Well, he is, but right now you really feel like punching him.

You scowl. “Hardly. I’m more worried about the light; that’s when they’re going to hang us, you know!”

“You forgot something,” Jack says, pushing the worn hat up to his forehead with his finger and grinning broadly. “I’m Captain Jack Sparrow, luv!”

You sigh patiently. “Yes, we’ve established that fact already. So what? I doubt the redcoats will let us go ‘cause of that. On the contrary, actually,” you muse.

Jack chuckles. “Just wait and see. Something always comes up.” Then, as an afterthought he adds, “Well, usually.”

You shake your head again in disbelief; that wasn't exactly reassuring. What an attitude the man has! That’s got to be either unbelievable courage or astonishing foolishness. You’re not quite sure yet which one. Sitting in silence for a while, you watch as Jack again observes the cell and the entrance. Then you remember his earlier comment about him being awake, and can’t help but to ask about it.

“So at what point exactly did you wake up?”

Jack looks at you, and the grin finds its way on his lips again. “At the point when you had your grabby lil’ hands all over me.”

You feel embarrassed, but for what? Getting caught while feeling him up? You had a very good reason to do so! Beside, you weren't really feeling him up or anything… Before you get to defend your actions, Jack goes on.

“Hey, I didn’t mind! If you want to go again…” He eyes your body suggestively. “…I wouldn’t object at all.”

You bite your cheek under his intense gaze. Again, you find yourself wondering what in the blazes is the matter with you. You’ve had those looks from men before, but they've never really provoked any special feeling in you, other than irritation. What makes Jack Sparrow so different? This scruffy scallywag?

Hypocrite! You scold yourself. You aren’t exactly a beauty queen yourself, and just as scruffy as him.

“Well, you’re heavy,” you say squarely, refusing to let him have the last word in this.

Jack actually laughs out loud at this. “Pure muscle, luv. Want to feel ‘em up?”

Your sour mood is forgotten in an instant, and you quirk an eyebrow. Two can play this game. “Only if I get to be on top this time,” you smirk.

Jack grins appreciatively; clearly delighted that you went along. “That a promise?” He asks huskily, his dark eyes boring into yours.

“Maybe…” You reply slowly, not even trying to evade his gaze. The cell suddenly seems way too small.

Just as Jack is about to reply, there’s a noise at the end of the stairs. Somebody is coming down.

Jack winks at you. “We’ll go on with this at better time, luv.”

Somewhat relieved to be interrupted, you fix your gaze upon the doorway. Soon enough, a lone soldier steps into your line of vision. He’s carrying a torch with him. Standing up on the bench, he lights the candles on the lamps hanging from the roof and few torches on the walls. After that he leaves, throwing a disgusted glance at you and the others. With the yellowish light from the torches, you’re actually able to see now. Glancing at the window, it’s now dark and you’re hours closer to being hanged. Not wanting to dwell on that, you decide to start a conversation with Jack again.

“So, what are you doing here, anyway? I think you know Port Royal isn’t too friendly towards pirates,” you ask Jack, who’s now standing over the window, leaning his back on the wall, arms crossed over his chest. You have vacated his earlier place on the other side of the cell, sitting on the outcropping.

He shoots you a “no kidding”-look, but answers anyway. “Truth be told, I was looking for a ship to commandeer so I could sail to Tortuga and pick up a crew there. That was, of course, before I had to save a damsel in distress,” he shrugs, glancing briefly towards the other cell where the men are once again calling for the dog, whistling and waving the bone between the bars.

“Come 'ere, boy!"

"Want some nice juicy bone? Come here. Come on!”

Jack shakes his head slightly, speaking up a bit louder so they can hear. “You can keep doing that forever, the dog is never going to move,” he drawls in a tone that's both bored and fed up.

“Oh, excuse us if we haven’t resigned ourselves to the gallows just yet,” says one of the prisoners, returning his attention to the dog that sits next to the table with the keys in its jaws.

Jack just grins and laughs silently, his gold-capped teeth glinting in the soft light from the candles. You close your eyes momentarily, trying to shake of that image. Why did he have look so damn attractive while going that? You get up and make your way over outcropping that Jack's sitting on, climbing on the said outcropping and gripping the bars of the window. Maybe some scenery gazing would take your mind of the pirate you’re sharing the cell with. You can feel Jack’s eyes on you, but pretend not to notice anything. After a moment, Jack sits down and lifts his other leg up on the ledge, leaning his forearm on his knee.

“Anything interesting out there?” He asks half-heartedly. This sitting around is obviously starting to get to him as well.

“Not really…” You sigh, sweeping the blackness of the night with your eyes. Suddenly, your gaze fixes on something at the bay, in the water. You blink is surprise; it’s a ship, and quite large one at that. Squinting, you can barely make out the shape of the galleon, and the ragged sails full of holes. You're puzzled. What ship has sails like that? Unless it's the… wait, no, that's highly unlikely.

A dull boom and a long whistling sound suddenly interrupt your thoughts, and your eyes widen. Cannon fire! The explosion near the docks lights up the bay, as series of shots are fired from the black ship. They're sacking the town, but why? Who's insane enough to attack Port Royal, of all cities?

“I know those guns,” Jack speaks up, and you hear him scrambling up. Only a moment later, he appears next to you, grabbing the bars as well and looking out with unbelieving expression. You ignore the fact you’re so close your sides are touching.

“It’s the Pearl…” He says slowly, almost reverently, staring at the ship unblinkingly. You glance at him sharply, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of the ship. You swallow uneasily and fix your own eyes back on the ship as well. Your guess was correct; it indeed is the notorious pirate ship, the Black Pearl.

“Black Pearl?” One of the pirates in the other cell repeats, coming over and pressing his face between the bars. “I’ve heard stories. She’s been praying over ships and settlements for near ten years. Never leaves any survivors.”

Now Jack leans back a bit, looking at the man with an amused half-grin. “No survivors? Then where do the stories come from, I wonder?”

“Very valid point,” You comment, smiling.

“Why, thank you,” Jack throws back, and you both go back to follow the mayhem taking place down in the city.

Shots keep raining down on the city from the Black Pearl, and they are precise and destructive. People are screaming and running around in panic, explosions are destroying buildings and trees and hammering the battlements of Fort Charles. After a while, several rowing boats detach from the Pearl; the pirates are coming ashore.

You watch the pirates’ process, the townspeople run away from them in terror. Pearl’s guns are still firing, and one shot lands close to the cellblock, the impact reverberating through the stony walls. Both yours and Jack’s eyes widen as you spot one particular globe of iron flying straight towards you. Before you can react, Jack wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you down; you land on the floor with Jack over, protecting your body with his own as the explosion shakes the cells.

Dust floats in the air as Jack raises his head, his dark eyes meeting yours. “Sorry, luv. I forgot ye wanted to be on top this time,” he says, a sly smirk curling his lips.

Ignoring the pleasant feeling of Jack’s warm body lying on top of your smaller one, you narrow your eyes. “You want me to deck you?”

“You’re one feisty lass,” he grins. “I like that.” He gets up and you instantly feel like pulling him back down. Angrily squashing those kinds of thoughts, you grab the hand Jack’s offering you and allow him to pull you upright.

He turns around, just in time to see the prisoners in the other cell climb out of the hole the cannon ball blew on the wall; just on the border of the two cells. It’s big enough for them to escape, but tiny on your side.

“My sympathies friends, you’ve no manner of luck at all,” one of the men says before disappearing through the hole into freedom. Oh no, this just can’t be possible!

Jack approaches the hole, studying it. “No manner of luck at all,” he mutters distastefully, turning to face you. Then he gets a look of recognition on his face, spins around again and reaches his hand though the bars, snatching the bone from the other cell.

Striding over the wall with the door, Jack kneels down and sticks the bone through the bars, whistling and waving it around. “C’mon doggy!” The dog whines a bit, but crawls slightly ahead. “It’s just you and us now. It’s you, the lass and ol’ Jack, come on! Come on, that’s a good boy...”

You can’t believe what you're seeing; the dog that wouldn't move earlier now actually starts trudging closer to Jack, albeit warily. “That’s a good boy, come on. Bit closer, bit closer… That’s it!” The dog stops in front of the cell, gazing at Jack. “That’s it, doggy! C’mon you, filthy, slimy, mangy cad!”

Suddenly, there’s noise coming from the stairs, and the dog whines, glancing towards the entrance and promptly flees down the other stairwell next to your cell with the keys in its mouth. “No no no no no, I didn’t mean it!!" Jack shouts after it, waving with his hand. "I didn’t…”

You let out a small shriek of frustration, slapping Jack upside over his head. “Ow!” He yells indignantly, rubbing the back of his head and looking at you with insulted eyes, “I didn’t deserve that!”

“Yeah you did! You don’t say things like that to a dog, they’re very intelligent!” you argue.

Before Jack gets to defend himself, a clash from the entrance startles both of you. A redcoat that had been guarding it suddenly falls down the stairs and slumps on the ground, unconscious. Two figures suddenly barge in the cellblock; they’re pirates from the Black Pearl.

“This ain’t the armory!” Another one of them exclaims in annoyance while looking around.

The other man, taller and dark-skinned, spots Jack and you in the cell, and sheathes his cutlass. “Well, well, well, look what we have here, Twigg – Captain Jack Sparrow!” He says gleefully and spits on the floor disrespectfully. Jack pulls back ever so slightly at this, a look of subtle disgust on his face as he darts his eyes back on the men.

“Last time I saw ye," Twigg starts, "You were all alone on a godforsaken island, shrinking into the distance.” Twigg says, glancing at the other man who's chuckling with a grin. “'Is fortunes haven’t improved much. Well, at least he 'as some company this time,” he says, leering at you. You send him the iciest glare you can muster.

“Worry about your own fortunes, gentlemen,” Jack tells them with low voice, bringing the men’s attention back to him. With a slightly angry look, Jack goes on. “The deepest circle of hell is reserved for betrayers... and mutineers.”

The taller man growls menacingly at this, and with a sudden movement, sticks his hand though the bars and grabs a hold of Jack’s throat. Your eyes widen; the flesh from the pirates arm vanished as the moonlight pouring inside from the window touched it. You blink, twice. No, you didn’t imagine it; the pirate's arm is nothing but bones and his clothes are now but dirty, torn rags hanging over them. Hell, the curse… The curse of the Black Pearl is true, after all! You always thought it was just a story, a bloody fable.

Jack seems only mildly surprised, looking down at the bony arm with wide eyes. “So, there is a curse," he says quietly, looking back at the man holding him. "That’s interesting.”

“You know nothing of hell!” The man holding Jack says fiercely, and then releases him with a sneer. They turn around without another word and head back upstairs.

You turn your attention back on Jack. He has a thoughtful frown on his face, staring intently at the bone he’s still holding in his hand. “That’s veery interesting…”

“Jack?” You say quietly, hoping for some explanation. What was that talk about an island?

He shakes his head slightly, as if awakening from a trance. Glancing at you briefly, he pulls his hand back inside the cell and sits down, dropping the bone. “Let’s get some shuteye, aye? Won’t be long till morning.”

With that, Jack lays down, placing his hands under his head and closing his eyes. You stare at him incredulously. “You just got grabbed by a living skeleton and you want to go to sleep?”

Opening one eye, Jack looks at you. “Got any better ideas? Maybe you could pick the lock with the bone,” he says sarcastically.

You roll your eyes. “Fine!” You give up, lying down as well on your side with your back turned to Jack.

“If you get scared, you can always cuddle up to me,” Jack’s smug voice breaks the silence after a while.

You snort. “Yeah, in your dreams,” you mumble sleepily. Jack’s chuckle is the last thing you hear before falling asleep.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 5 — The Unlikely Liberator

Blearily, you try to blink the sleep from your eyes. Giving up to the exhaustion, you close your eyes again, just for a few more minutes. In your state between sleep and being awake, you slowly start recalling the events of yesterday. You arrived in Port Royal, saw a fellow pirate, went to Fort Charles, saw Elizabeth being rescued by the said pirate, getting caught yourself… got thrown in the brig, meeting the damn handsome Captain Jack Sparrow… Going to sleep… Getting hanged in the morning.

Your eyes snap wide open, and you blink again, glancing up to the window. It’s dawn, and the sun is rising. Despite spending the night on the hard ground and in the slightly chilly night air, you feel surprisingly warm. You’re lying on your left side on the hard ground, your left arm serving as a pillow. Your right arm is drawn up next to your face. But if you can see both of your arms, then what is that slight pressure on your waist and stomach…?

Glancing down, you notice a hand flat against your tummy. It’s somewhat grimy, with silver ring on the forefinger. It’s Jack’s hand. You suddenly come very aware of the presence behind you, and realize that he’s pressed up against your back, his right arm loosely wrapped around your waist. The next thing you feel is his even breathing somewhere around your neck.

Your mouth opens and closes a few times as you search for the words to wake him up so you can get off. But you seem to be rendered speechless. No wonder you felt warm if you’ve spent the night like this! You stay still, wondering how to proceed. And, more importantly, how did you get here? Did you really snuggle up to him in your sleep, or was it the other way around? Well either way, you’re putting some distance between the two of you now, never mind how nice this might feel…

Carefully, you grab his hand and start lifting it off, but at the same moment Jack moves, tightening his hold of you, drawing you even closer and murmuring something incomprehensible in his sleep in your hair. You hold your breath and stay put until he stills again, his breathing evening again. He’s sound asleep.

You exhale through your nose. Wonderful. With nothing better to do, you stare at his hand on your tummy, memorizing its shape and the fine lines on the skin. You’re not about to admit it, but in a way his warm body pressed against your back is pretty comforting. You almost feel… safe? That’s something you haven’t felt for a while. Smiling to your musings, you relax your muscles. Hell, if this is the last morning you’re going to see, then it might as well be in the arms of this man!

Closing your eyes, sleep once again overtakes you and you fall asleep with Jack’s strong arm still firmly around you.

* * * *

The sound of something clanging every once in the while infiltrates your sleep, and you gradually become aware that Jack’s not behind you anymore. Now awake, you push yourself into a sitting position sleepily, rubbing your numb arm. You see Jack standing in front of the cell door; his hands are pushed though the bars. He’s feverously trying to do something to the lock, but you don’t see exactly what. With a small groan, you sit up, your muscles sore from sleeping on the ground.

Jack stops what he’s doing for a while, turning his head to look at you. “Morning, luv. Slept well?” He grins, and then turns back to the lock and continuing.

“I’ve slept in worse places,” You say noncommittally with a shrug, sauntering up next to him, picking stray piece of hay from your hair. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What does it look like I'm doing?” Jack grunts, his eyes never leaving the lock and the bone he’s trying to pick it with. “Please…” he mumbles to the lock, and you shake your head. So now he’s worried about getting out as well.

“That’s never going to work. Here, gimme that!“ You say exasperatedly, pushing right next to him and trying to grab the bone from him.

“Hands off, lass! I’ll handle this!” He cries, trying to fend off your hands with his elbow.

“Who’s the lock picker here? Bloody hell, give that—“ You argue, trying to bodily push him aside. Unfortunately, he’s stronger than you and doesn’t even budge.

The sudden noise in the stairwell brings your bickering to an abrupt halt. Both of you freeze, and look at each other in the eyes. In the exact same time you and Jack spring away from the lock as if it burned you, the bone falling on the floor. Jack lies on the floor, as if asleep, and you sit casually on the outcropping, staring up at the window like you’ve been sitting there the whole time.

A young man with dark eyes and hair emerges from the stairs, obviously in great haste. He takes a quick look around, spotting Jack sprawled on the floor in the first cell. “You! Sparrow!” He cries out, coming to stand in front of the cell door. You quirk an interested eyebrow. Who’s this and what does he want from Jack? He looks slightly familiar, but you can’t place how exactly.

“Aye?” Jack says, lifting his head off the floor.

“You are familiar with that ship, the Black Pearl?” The youngster asks, his eyes fixed on the pirate. You wonder if he ever even noticed you in the cell at all.

“I’ve heard of it,” Jack replies indifferently, laying his head back on the floor. You cock your head, and listen intently. It seemed to you last night that Jack’s more than heard of it.

“Where does it make berth?”

“Where does it make berth?” Jack repeats incredulously, lifting his head to look at the young man. “Have you not heard the stories?” Receiving blank look in return, Jack once again lets his head fall back on the ground, the beads in his hair clinking softly as he does so.

“Captain Barbossa and his crew of miscreants," Jack starts lazily, his left hand held up a bit, waving in the air, "…sailed from the dreaded Isla de Muerta. It’s an island that cannot be found except!” Jack pauses and grins cheekily, lifting his finger, “…by those who already know where it is.”

“The ship’s real enough. Therefore its anchorage must be a real place. Where is it?” The man demands and you get the impression this must be really important to him.

“Why ask me?” Jack asks in return, studying his nails. Oh, he’s playing it cool.

“Because you’re a pirate,” the young man says while looking down, and you detect a not-so-subtle amount of disgust in his tone at the last word.

“And you want to turn one yourself, it that it?” Jack asks with smug tone, raising his head again.

The strange man’s eyes flash. “Never!” He hisses fiercely, coming a bit closer. Jack relaxes again, dropping his head to the ground with almost a disappointed look.

The young man is quiet for a moment, and then speaks again with more subdued tone. “They took Miss Swann.” Your eyes widen. They kidnapped Elizabeth?

Jack springs himself upright and leaning his palm on the ground for support. “Oh, so it is that you’ve found a girl!" he cries in delight, smiling. "I see… Well, if you’re intending to brave all, hasten to her rescue and so win fair lady’s heart,” Jack stops, and smirks. “…You'll have to do it alone, mate. I see no profit in it for me.”

“I’ll help you,” you say before you even realize you opened your mouth. Both of the men look at you, Jack incredulously and the strange man with surprise and bewilderment.

“What?!” They both ask at the same time.

You roll your eyes. “I said I’ll help you get Elizabeth back.”

“But- Wait, how did you know her name? Who are you?” The strange man asks.

“Aw, she’s nobody, the sister of my aunt’s nephew—“ Jack starts, but you silence him with a glare. He widens his eyes innocently, taking on a "what?"-look and shrugging slightly.

You introduce yourself to the man. “Elizabeth Swann is my cousin.”

“What? No, that’s not possible, you’re a pirate!” The man sputters. Wow, talk about a negative approach towards pirates.

“’Ey, you never told me that,” Jack says, looking at you for an explanation.

“Well, you didn’t ask.”

“’You didn’t ask’! Here we go again…” Jack mumbles, shaking his head.

“It’s the truth, Melissa Swann, the Governor’s sister, was my mother. She fell in love with the pirate called Bloodshot Pete, my father. They ran off after the Swann’s disowned my mother, and got married. Later, Melissa died while giving birth to me. So, I grew up with my father aboard his ship and became a pirate. And that’s the truth, I swear on my father’s grave,” You explain, but the man still seems dubious.

“I’ve known Elizabeth since I was a lad and I’ve never seen you before,” he says accusingly.

“I was seven when I last saw her; she was barely three years old! I’m not sure even she remembers me, but I thought I’d come to see how she’s doing… Look, the point is, if Captain Barbossa has her aboard the Black Pearl now, you will need our help. You can’t do it alone.”

“Our?” Jack voices his obvious objection. You glance at him with a frown.

“Sorry, luv, but I still see no profit in it,” Jack shrugs.

“I can get you out,” the young man says, having obviously reached the conclusion; he does need help.

“How’s that? The key’s ran off,” Jack says, nodding slightly towards the direction the dog fled to.

“I helped build these cells. These are half pin-barrel hinges,” he tells you, glancing around. Spotting a wooden bench, he quickly walks over it and lifts it, placing it at the bottom of the cell door. Jack follows his actions with narrowed eyes before rolling his eyes, looking sceptical. “With the right leverage and a proper application of strength, the door will lift free!”

Jack thinks about this, slanting his head to the side with a thoughtful look. “What’s your name?”

“Will Turner,” the man answers. Turner? You frown thoughtfully; the name has an awfully familiar ring to it.

Jack sits up properly, but still slouches ever so slightly. “That would be short for William, I imagine. Good, strong name,” he nods slightly to himself, and then looks at Will again. “No doubt, named for your father, aye?”

Will seems surprised, cocking his head slightly. “Yes.”

“Aha,” Jack mutters quietly, then throws his hands in the air. “Well, Mr. Turner, I changed me mind,” Jack voices, standing up. “If you spring us from this cell, I swear on pain of death; I shall take you to the Black Pearl… And your bonny lass. Do we have an accord?” Jack offers his hand to Will, who looks at it for a moment.

“Agreed,” Will says with a hint of a smile as he shakes Jack's hand.

“Agreed!” Jack repeats, and waves his hands in upward motion, “Get us out.”

Will stomps on the bench, and much to your surprise, the door springs free from its hinges, clanging uselessly on the floor.

“Hurry! Someone will have heard that,” Will says as you and Jack step out of the cell.

“Not without my effects!” Jack says determinately, slinking over to the wall where your cutlasses and other things are hanging. You’re not far behind, snatching your cutlass and pouches, tying them on your belt. After you’re both done, the three of you make your way out of the cellblock.

* * * *

Creeping behind Jack and Will, you try to cross the little creek as silently as possible. Jack and Will stop under the bridge, observing the bay.

“We’re going to steal a ship?” Will asks Jack with slight apprehension. “That ship?” You follow his gaze; it’s the Dauntless, the most powerful ship in the King’s fleet. Impossible! That ship’s way too big for the three of you to commandeer. You hate the term “steal”.

“Commandeer! We’re going to commandeer… that ship. Nautical term,” Jack clarifies, and turns around to face Will. “One question about your business boy, or there’s no use going. This girl… How far are you willing to go to save her?” he asks Will seriously.

Will doesn’t falter, and answers fiercely, “I’d die for her!” You smile slightly. Elizabeth must be really important to the poor lad.

Jack shoots a quick look at you, amused smile on his face. “Oh, good!” He exclaims merrily, and turns around again, “No worries, then.”

You smother a chuckle. You’ve never met anyone quite like this Captain Sparrow, here.

“Let’s go. Follow me lead,” Jack says, and stalks carefully towards the shore littered with rowing boats turned upside down. You and Will follow, and reach Jack as he lifts one of the boat’s edge, indicating you to crawl under it. You both do so, with Will in the back, you in the middle and Jack in the front. It’s not exactly overly spacious.

“Three’s a crowd, indeed,” you mumble to yourself.

“Hush, hush, luv.” Jack whispers, silencing you. You listen as the footsteps pass the boat. After its silent, Jack speaks up. “Grab the edges, hold on tight. We’ll slide the boat on the surface an’ walk the bottom.”

You do exactly like he says, but can’t help but to feel a bit uncertain. Won’t the boat fill with water? The cool water feels like heaven on your skin as you start wading in the water quickly. The water level rises, but it doesn’t fill the boat as you start walking on the bottom of the bay making your way towards the.

“This is either madness or brilliance,” Will says.

“It’s remarkable how often those two traits coincide,” Jack replies with a slur in his tone that's sometimes stronger and other times less audible.

“You must be very familiar with that occurrence,” you jibe Jack good-naturedly.

“If you only knew, luv.” You can’t see his face, but no doubt he’s grinning again.

Glancing down in the clear blue water, you step over a crab trap. “Will, watch out for the trap.”

“Too late,” He replies, and you chuckle in spite of yourself.

After walking a good while, Jack halts you. “When I tell you, let go of the boat and swim to surface, savvy?”

“Right,” you and Will acknowledge, and at Jack’s mark, let go of the boat. It fills instantly with water, and you start swimming towards the surface. You gasp and fill your lungs with air as your head surfaces, glancing around. Jack is already there, swimming towards the Dauntless. Will surfaces next to you, gasping for air.

“Let’s go,” you tell Will who nods quickly, swimming after Jack.

Jack is already climbing up the rope hanging from the deck of the Dauntless, and Will follows suit. After he’s climbed for a while, you grab the thick rope as well, hoisting yourself up. The rope starts burning your hands after a while, and you glance up with a sigh. You haven’t climbed anywhere for a while, and the Dauntless is a high ship. Finally, you reach the railing, and throw your leg over it, dropping on the deck where Jack and Will are waiting.

“And now… we’ll commandeer the ship,” Jack grins mischievously like a little boy, unsheathing his cutlass. You do the same, the cool metal of the handle soothing your palm that’s still tingling from the rope. Will also pulls out a sword, and you’re ashamed to realize you didn’t even notice he had one until now.

Jack starts walking ahead determinately, with Will closely behind. You shrug and follow them.

“Everyone!” Jack roars, while descending down the stairs leading from the helm down on the deck. “Stay calm. We’re taking over the ship!” You follow him.

Will doesn’t bother with the stairs, but jumps down the short distance. You position yourself next to him, your cutlass held in front of you. “Aye, avast!” Will cries while holding his sword pointed towards the men on the deck. The soldiers laugh loudly.

Jack stop in his tracks, slowly looking at Will with incredulous look. You did the exact same thing the moment those words left Will’s mouth. People and their pirate prejudices! Will glances at Jack then at you, shrugging slightly.

“This ship cannot be crewed by two men,” The officer in command states with a smug smirk, and you recognize him as Lieutenant Gillette from the docks when they caught Jack. “And a woman,” he adds distastefully as he sees you, “You’ll never make it out of the bay.”

Jack just smiles pleasantly, like he knows something Gillette doesn’t. “Son…” He starts, the smile never leaving his face as he points his pistol on Gillette’s face, and Gillette loses his smirk. “I’m Captain Jack Sparrow," Jack states, his smile vanishing as he looks at Gillette, all business. "Savvy?”

“Scurry in the lifeboat, mangy cads! Now,” Jack adds menacingly in a low voice, and Gillette wastes no time to obey.

“Abandon ship!” Gillette yells, and the men practically run in the lifeboat, lowering it in the water. You three are suddenly the only ones onboard.

“Well, that was easy,” Jack smiles as he sheaths his cutlass and tucks his pistol back to his belt. You can hear Gillette and the men in the boat shouting to Norrington and his crew over the Interceptor.

“Now, ready the sails!” Jack orders.

“Are you serious?” You ask laughingly. There’s no way you get this ship ready in time, much less to sail it.

“Luv,” Jack roll his eyes, “I’m the Captain, here! If you want to come with us, ye do as I say. Besides, it’s just to throw them off,” he nods towards the Interceptor.

“Okay, fine!” You raise your hands in defeat, stalking off to tighten the ropes. “Will, don’t just stand there, gimme a hand!”

Will has obviously no idea what he’s supposed to do, and you don’t blame him. Sighing, you grab a random rope and hand it to him. “Just yank it around, make it seem like you actually know what you’re doing,” you tell him and Will nods, smiling gratefully.

Jack has vanished somewhere, probably in the helm. You tighten the ropes and Will yanks them around, and you almost laugh out loud. This must look really comical.

You notice the Interceptor has started to glide your way, and it won’t be long till they catch you. “C’mon Will, let’s find Jack,” you say, heading towards the helm with him.

You find him at the helm. Jack smiles mischievously, like a kid about to pull a prank.

“Here they come,” Will says, looking at the Interceptor.

Jack turns around to look, grinning. “Perfect,” he mutters, and turns back to face you and Will. “Hide,” he shoos you off and you hide in time to hear Norrington’s voice command the soldiers.

“Search every cabin, every hold, down to the bilges!”

“Let’s go,” Jack whispers, and the three of you rush over the railing, swinging yourselves onboard the Interceptor with some ropes. Quickly, Jack runs to the helm, steering the ship away from the Dauntless. Will cuts the ropes attached on the railing with his hatchet, and you take care of the sails, checking everything is all set. Then, you and Will make your way to the helm as well.

“Sailors, back to the Interceptor! Now!” You hear Norrington’s voice, but it’s already too late for them. One of the sailors tries to swing aboard but with no avail; you fallow with amusement as the man is thrown in the sea.

The Interceptor glides smoothly across the waters, the distance between the ships growing quickly.

“Thank you, Commodore, for getting us ready to make way! We’d have a hard time of it by ourselves!” Jack shouts to Norrington who’s now stuck on the Dauntless, taking off his tri-corn hat and waving it in the air in mock-salute. You wave at him with a sweet smile of your own. The sailors respond by firing their muskets, and you duck, as do Jack and Will.

“Won’t they still come after us?” Will asks Jack after a while, gazing at the Dauntless.

“Very unlikely since I disabled their rudder chain,” Jack smirks, and you laugh, wishing you could have seen Norrington’s face when he found out that.

Seating yourself on the railing of the ship, you gaze at the water. It’s good to be sailing again, even if only for a while. You glance at Jack, who seems to be in his element behind the helm, wind tousling his dreadlocks. Will has started to sharpen his dull sword, seemingly deep in thought. Two pirates and a respectable blacksmith, on their way to save an even more respectable lady on a commandeered ship. What an odd company, you think to yourself. This could be fun…

CHAPTERS 6-10

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