LIVE FOR MY DYING

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

Disclaimer: Alas I don’t own anything in this dear little story except for the plot and YOU ahahaha for the duration of this tale you are mine… um not really you’re free to leave at anytime.

Summary: Coming from humble beginnings, you are the daughter of the man in control of most of the Caribbean merchant fleet. You are finally heading home after a torturous year away when disaster strikes. You find yourself alone; dealing with trials and grief that no one should have to go through. Will a certain captain be able to help you pull through or will he just compound your problems?

* * * * *

CHAPTER 1 - Beginning with an Ending

You turned your face to the west wind and closed your eyes letting its cool fierceness tug at your hair, which fought bravely against the pins that held it cruelly bound. One small lock broke free and you felt it against your face as it danced in the wind. A small smile reached your lips and you tried to concentrate your whole being into that strand of hair, so that you too were free.

Your smile turned into a sigh of contentment, as you reassured yourself that your ordeal was over. You leant against the ship’s rail, resting your chin on your hands. It was unladylike, but you’d had more then enough of etiquette and for now you were more then pleased to leave it behind. Opening your eyes you stared out across the sea at the setting sun. You always missed Caribbean sunsets, watching the sunset over the land was never as spectacular or as comforting.

“Getting an education never seemed worth this,” you breathed, going over the last seven years in your mind. Madame le Moyne’s School for Young Ladies, was in a town a days ride inland, in one of the many mainland British colonies. Born and raised on an island port, the total loss of the sounds and smells of the sea had been terribly unnerving. Homesickness had been a leaden weight on your heart every second you had spent at the school, and the burden had not been eased in the slightest by the other girls’ derision of your raising and manner. You were new money; disgustingly below their regard and they had not let you forget it for a second.

You almost sighed again, but the sound of footsteps made you turn around instead. A smile spread widely across your face at the sight of your father. He put an arm around your shoulders and wordlessly you turned together to watch the sun slipping beneath the water. Surreptitiously you studied him, reacquainting yourself with his presence and noting anything that had changed in your absence, a deepening of the creases around his eyes, the slightly denser patches of silver at his temples, contrasting with his cobalt hair. He was definitely thinner.

Your eyes returned to his face. He was a handsome man, with a strong jaw, straight nose and hazel eyes that lit his face when he smiled. Those eyes were the only features you had inherited from him, that and a stubbornness of your jaw line. You had often wondered why he had not remarried when your mother had died in childbirth seventeen years ago; there had been no shortage of offers. Not that you’d minded; you had never been happier then when it was just the two of you.

He had been the harbourmaster at the port of one of the most prosperous islands colonised by the British. You had grown up in the midst of the bustle of the docks, happy amongst ebb and flow of the tide of seafaring humanity. Running wild with the dock boys and listening to the stories of world wise sailors, whenever they were feeling indulgent. Your world was contained there and at the centre of it, always watching over everything, was your father.

The last of the suns light disappeared and it was suddenly dark, your father’s arm tightened warmly around your shoulders, once. Then he turned to you and smiled,

“Come inside Elf, dinner has been sent up from the galley for us.”

You returned his smile and they walked together below deck, relishing the nickname that no one had called you for so long. So much had changed over the years, but always, always he had remained constant.

When you were eight, you had received word of the death of some obscure relative of your father. He had inherited a small trading firm. To most this would have been a paltry windfall, barely worth the effort it took to run. But with your father’s patient hand and wide contacts, this windfall had taken seed and blossomed.

It had only taken two years. Two years for him to come into control of almost all major trading rights in the Caribbean Sea. Two years for the world of the aristocracy to open up to the two of you. Two years for your lives to come under the scrutiny of hateful gossips and snide socialites and be turned upside-down.

However your father had not let this faze him, he had seized hold of these new opportunities, seen them as his chance to give his daughter a good life. He was determined that you would grow up a lady, the daughter of Marcus Hunter owner of the largest fleet of merchant vessels in the Caribbean, not Marcus the harbourmaster’s brat. And so though it broke his heart not to have you with him, he sent his little Elf to school.

Thus began your ordeal. Totally unsure of what to expect, you had arrived, as a grubby, wide eyed eleven year old, into a world of beautiful young girls who were always impeccably clean, who sat up straight, spoke softly and properly and only ever walked gracefully. It was here that you learnt that everything about you was inappropriate.

Proper girls weren’t supposed to be tanned and freckled from spending all their days in the sun. Their hair was not supposed to hang in long brown sun bleached straggles. They definitely weren’t supposed to say anything, especially not what was on their mind.

They flooded your world with hairpins that were pulled so tightly they felt as if the were going to rip your face off, corsets that squeezed the air from your lungs and made you feel light-headed and table manners that involved so many useless knives, forks and spoons, that you wanted to scream and shove the salad fork, down the throat of the next person who told you that you were holding it incorrectly.

Despite this, you endured it all with relative equanimity. You had almost given up once, after the first year. You knew that if you asked him your father would not make you go back. But when he came to pick you up for the end of year respite, you had looked at his face and seen his happiness at the chance he had given you and the words had died in your throat.

For six years you had kept yourself detached from your school world, and been as ladylike as you could, because it was for him. And now it was over and your mind exulted at that thought.

That night you ate together in the master cabin on one of your father’s many ships and they recounted the past few years, perfectly happy in each other’s company. It was rather late when you kissed him on the cheek and sought your bed. In your own small cabin you undressed to your shift and climbed into the bunk.

* * * *

You sprang from your bed at the sound of a loud banging on your door. You called out; it burst open and your father ran into the room. Immediately you knew that something was wrong.

“We’re being run down by pirates,” he said, confirming your fears, “Hurry get dressed and come to my cabin, it’s the most defensible.” He embraced you quickly, reassuringly, and then all but ran out through the door. Hurriedly you pulled on your least ornate dress, not bothering with a corset and ran down the corridor your hair streaming out behind you, brushing past members of the crew running in all directions. You reached the cabin and stepped out of the flood of people, trying to block out the sound of the conflicting orders being yelled from all directions. Suddenly your father’s voice cut through the noise,

“Everyone, not currently needed elsewhere, arm yourselves and go out on deck!” he shouted, and the noise abated and the crew moved forward with purpose. Your father hurried towards you and quickly guided you into the cabin, “Lock the door and barricade it, stay in here and do not move!” you opened your mouth to protest but he silenced you with a look, “Do it Elf! I have to go, don’t open this door until I tell you to!”

“Alright.” You sighed, biting your lip.

He took something from around his neck and put it over your head,

“Keep this safe,” he said softer this time. He hugged you tightly and then was gone. A cold feeling of finality shivered down your spine. You look down at what he had put around your neck. It was his official seal bearing the insignia of his trading firm. In the wrong hands it could do a lot of damage.

Resolutely you tucked the seal into your bodice, closed and bolted the door, then looked around for things to barricade it with. You cursed quietly, in a ship cabin, as you were, almost everything was bolted down. You pushed a small but heavy desk against the door and kept the chair within easy reach, it would be useless in holding the door but you might be able to use it as a weapon should the door be breached.

This done you began to pace. You were in an inside cabin and therefore had no porthole; you could hear very little of what was occurring on deck. Suddenly there came loud thumps and the sound of running feet. They had boarded. You clamped down hard on your lip and tasted blood.

The sounds from above slowly diminished. Not sure if this was a good or bad sign you transferred her teeth from your shredded lip, to your knuckle, your other hand wrenching at your hair as you strained to listen.

Your heart sank as you heard sounds of doors being wrenched open and cabins being searched. You pushed all thoughts of anything but the situation at hand from your mind, refusing to panic. Taking a deep breath you reached for the chair and gathered your wits as you heard them draw ever closer to your cabin. You heard rough voices at your door and gravely shouts as they tried your door and found it to be locked. A pistol fired and a smoking hole appeared where the lock had been.

Quietly you moved across the room until you were against the wall right next to the door. Raising the chair in your hands you waited. There was a resounding crash as many bodies rammed against the door; the desk moved few inches across the floor. Quickly lowering the chair, you dragged the desk out of the way before they could ram the door again. You heard them count to three, but this time when they hit the door they met with no resistance and four raggedly dressed men tumbled into the cabin.

With a hoarse scream you brought the chair down on the head of the closest one and ran out of the now clear door, away from the still shocked pirates. You prayed silently that they had no friends waiting for them in the corridor, already knowing it was hopeless and that there was nowhere to run. Gathering your skirts in your hands you made for the deck, as you heard shouts and sounds of pursuit behind you.

Finally with the deck in sight you glanced behind you to see how close your pursuers were. Satisfied that they were far enough behind, you turned back only to find your way blocked by a giant of a man. You skidded to a stop, looked over your shoulder begging for an escape but finding only the four pirates from the cabin. You cursed loudly as they all closed in around you smirking. One, you noticed had a steady trickle of blood coming from his scalp, he was glaring at you particularly maliciously.

“Stupid bloody strumpet,” he snarled at you stepping forward to grab hold of you.

You backhanded him in the face, making him take a step back clutching his nose,

“Get the wench!” he screamed enraged and suddenly you were grabbed roughly from all sides. You struggled madly letting lose kicks, punches, screams and biting any hand or arm that came into range, but all to no avail. Finally the giant locked your hands behind your back. The bloody one pulled your head back by the hair and looked into your face, you glared at him and he smirked, “Bring ‘er to the capt’n.” he said to the giant, then he and the other three moved off to search the remaining cabins.

The giant grunted and forced you out from below. You gasped at what you saw on deck, many of the crew had been killed and lay in small heaps, here and there. You nearly gagged at the sight of them, fear for your father churning your stomach. Frantically you scanned the deck looking for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. The giant dragged you to the rail and pushed her across a boarding plank onto a mean fast looking ship that was tied onto your father’s vessel.

Scanning this new terrain, you sighed gustily with relief at the sight of your father with a small huddle of prisoners at the starboard rail. You caught his eyes for a second, and then the giant grunted again and twisted your arm painfully, dragging you towards a tall grizzled man wearing a tricorne hat.

“Capt’n,” the giant grunted in a thick rattling voice, “Found ‘er below.”

The captain looked you over, “Tie ‘er arms Ox,” he said grinning, “It’s time I had a little discussion with the prisoners.”

You struggled again furiously, freeing your hands for a second, but the giant dealt you a dizzying blow to the temple. Before your head stopped spinning your hands were caught again, this time in front of you, and your wrists were tightly bound. An arm snaked roughly around your waist and you were pulled against the body of the captain. He leered down at you then dragged you across the deck to stand in front of the prisoners.

“Now,” he said in a booming voice, “I’ll not waste words on ye lot.” You caught your fathers eyes and he returned your gaze calmly, “I’m sure ye’re situation is all too obvious.” He nodded slightly at you, and then turned his gaze on the captain, “Ye have two choices, join my crew, or die.”

This statement was met by defiant looks on all accounts. One of the young deckhands piped up,

“What about the lass?”

The captain smirked, “The lass of course will be staying with my crew,” he said pulling you close to him again. You arched away from him turning your face as far from his as possible. His lecherous breath, sending sick chills down your spine. There was a snarl from the prisoners and suddenly her father ran forward hands untied with a small knife outstretched.

For a moment your senses sharpened, accentuating every detail so that it would remain in your memory with a sickening clarity. A loud bang cut through your mind followed by a roaring that drowned out everything. You saw every movement your father made as he jolted backwards once and fell to the deck. His head rolled to the side and for one last second you held his gaze. Then the light in his hazel eyes went out.

With a scream that you did not hear you ran forward, not even registering that the captain had let you go to fire his pistol. You fell to your knees at your father’s side, shaking him futilely, tears coursing down your face. With a rush the roaring in your ears subsided and you could hear, over the sound of your diminishing sobs, the captain’s raucous laughter. Your senses narrowed on that one sound bound hands quickly finding your father’s small knife. You sprang to your feet,

“You bastard…” you breathed in a deathly cold voice, “I’ll kill you!” the last came out as a scream of anguish. But before you could take more then a step, the giant and other members of the pirate crew formed a barricade between you and their captain.

Snarling expletives that would have had you kicked out of school, you were backed slowly towards the rail.

“Capt’n Kerris, I don’t think she thinks much of your hospitality.” A small whipcord pirate giggled in a high pitched voice, “P’ raps she expected a tour of the ship?”

You now had your back to the rail and the circle was growing ever smaller. You looked frantically around for anything of any use to you.

“What a splendid idea mate,” the captain said stepping into your line of sight, your lip curled viciously at him, “Yer Ladyship may I present my ship, there’s the bow and there’s the stern,” he smirked pointing to each respectively.

You glared at him with all the hatred you could muster. Catching sight of an empty tar bucket you hooked it over your foot.

“And here’s the starboard rail!” you hissed flinging yourself over the side.

You tumbled over once, twice, and then crashed down shattering the frigid black surface. Slowly, you slid into the sea’s dark embrace.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 2 - Exchange Drowning for Breathing

You stared wistfully at the dim light shining down on you through the water. You’d been playing a chasing game on the end of the pier with the boys; you’d been running backwards and had tripped on a coil of rope. Both you and the rope had fallen into the deep water, hopelessly tangled together. You struggled with the rope for what seemed like forever, becoming hopelessly disorientated.

Finally free of the rope’s snarls, relief swimming through your veins, you had swum as fast as you could. Eyes tightly clenched closed, you had expected to break the surface at any second. You had wondered briefly why it was getting so cold and dark. Finally your lungs burning, you had opened your eyes... to darkness. Terrified, the air burst from your lungs, the bubbles flew upwards and you turned with them, and had seen the sun.

The light was dim, it was so far, too far, you couldn’t reach it. Your oxygen-starved brain registered only gentle sadness at this, but a corner of your mind suddenly screamed. Wait! This has happened before, don’t be sad, daddy jumped in and saved me! It’s all right he’ll be here any second now!

And so you waited, but the light went out. Daddy wasn’t coming, a new voice said, daddy’s dead. And suddenly your mind, stunned from the impact with the water cleared. You remembered, and for a moment all that mattered was breathing. You kicked your legs crazily; your dress had become water logged and was pulling you down. You tried to use her arms but they were still tied. It was so dark; you had no way of knowing how far you were from the surface.

Your tears merged with the salt water and your kicking slowed.

“What’s the point?” you said silently.

“Come on your almost there,” you heard his voice, even though you knew it wasn’t possible.

You kicked strongly once, twice and once more, and your head broke the surface. Cool, fresh, wonderful air filled your lungs, but the aching in your chest didn’t subside no matter how many times you drew the sweet air down your throat.

Bobbing up and down next to you was the tar bucket; you kicked towards it reaching out for it. You realised then that you still held the small knife clenched in your bound hands. Looping your arms around the bucket, you used your elbows to balance it close to you. Shocked at how close you were coming to swamping it with the added weight of your waterlogged dress, you kicked strenuously to keep your head above the water.

Looking around you saw the ships, far too close for comfort. Hoping the darkness would conceal you, you kicked yourself away from it careful not to make any splashes. You pushed away all thought of what might be lurking in the dark water beneath you, along with the voice of reason telling you that all that waited for in the open ocean was death.

Only when you thought you were far enough away did you look back. There was a light growing on your father’s ship. It took you a moment to realise it was a fire, and by the time you did it had spread across the deck and was licking at the main mast. The sight of one of your father’s fine ships burning, made the pain in your chest constrict, but with the constriction came a hardening.

Now was not the time for grief, it was the time for survival, if that was possible. He was dead, but he had died so that you would live. For you to die now would be to throw his sacrifice back in his face. You would do anything to be worthy of his gift.

You swam further so that the light from the burning ship wouldn’t give you away. Finally, when the two ships were small points, in the distance you stopped and began to cut at the ropes at you wrists. With your wrists finally free you let the knife and the rope drop into the bucket and shucked out your dress, leaving you freezing in just your shift, but much more buoyant.

Now floating comfortably, you relaxed your grip on your thoughts just a little, so that you could think a ways into the future.

‘Maybe,’ you thought to youself, ‘I’ll get found and picked up by another merchant man, or a naval vessel.’

‘More likely, I’ll die of starvation... Although thirst probably will come first,’ the thought popped into your head and suddenly as if it had opened a floodgate, it was joined may many more like it.

‘Maybe I freeze first,’ suddenly you felt very, very cold. You found herself wishing you had left the dress on.

‘I might get picked off by some sort of sea beast.’ This charming thought made you imagine you felt something brush past your ankle.

‘Or I’ll fall asleep and lose the bucket,’ you yawned widely, and then was suddenly angry with yourself. You couldn’t do this; you’d drive yourself mad!

Reaching into the bucket you pulled out the rope and tied one end tightly around your wrist and the other around the handle of the wooden bucket.

“There!” you said aloud in an accusing voice, “Does that satisfy you?”

Realising what you had just done, you sighed frustrated and tired. You would have given anything, right then, just to sleep a heavy dreamless sleep. Resting your chin on the rim of the bucket, you settled down for a long wait. A wait you weren’t sure you’d see the end of.

* * * *

The sun high overhead played over you like fire. Your shoulders ached where your shift ended and you longed to sink beneath the cool water, but every time you tried, the voice in your head would come alive and sharply tell you not to. Next time your feverish mind mumbled next time I will ignore the voice, I will ignore and I will stop the burning.

Still each time, the voice had piped up again and you couldn’t ignore it, each time you had held onto the bucket and continued to burn. But not this time, voice be damned you were a crisp and you wanted to cool down! You made to let go of the bucket, but as soon as you did the voice began again in your ear.

“Leave me alone,” you croaked, your voice thick and rough. The voice stilled.

Slowly you released your grip on the bucket, and the water closed gently over your head, it was so lovely. You pushed yourself down deeper, so that you could reach the cooler water at your feet. All of a sudden the bucket flipped and something shiny fell down past your face. By the time your muddled mind realised what it was, it had already slipped well past your feet.

The knife! You mustn’t lose the knife! Sluggishly you tried to swim after it but some thing held you back, you struggled furiously against it, stretching with all your might to reach the knife, but the bucket had flipped fully over, trapping a large air bubble inside it. It wasn’t going to let you get far underwater.

Two voices argued in your mind. One screamed at you to get the knife, which had by now slipped completely out of sight, the other told you firmly to go back to the bucket. The second voice strengthened by the physical force holding you back by your wrist eventually won out over the first. You surfaced and returned to the bucket which, when flipped back the right way now contained a small amount of water.

The sound of the water sloshing in the bucket reminded you how thirsty you were, the water in the bucket looked so good, even if it was saltwater, just a little bit couldn’t hurt could it. The same voice that had made you return to the bucket scolded you sharply and told you not to drink the water.

A sob escaped your throat, followed by another and soon you were crying in earnest. You cried because the voice wouldn’t leave you alone. You cried because you were thirsty and because the sun was burning you again. Also you cried for something older, something so enormous that it seemed not only an integral part of you, but it also encompassed and contained you. You were this sorrow and it was you. You cried because you couldn’t remember what this sorrow was.

The sobs tore at your throat choking you. You wanted more then anything, for it to stop, to let go. But the voice wouldn’t let you go; the sorrow wouldn’t let you go.

* * * * *

A/N: Just a small note; I hope you are liking the story. This chapter kind of gets to me, the drowning memory delusion you have is based on something that happened to me when I was about ten. So I have a semi-obsession with drowning poems and lyrics and story and stuff. Anyways if it’s allowed here is a small one that’s a favourite of mine and seems to go with the chapter.

In your arms entwine me
Come save me I’m crying
The breath leaves my body
I’m sinking I’m dying

* * * * *

Captain Sparrow stood at the helm. One hand resting on it lightly, maintaining contact, monitoring the tensions and vibrations he could feel through it. As well as guiding the ship’s course, the helm could tell him intimate things about the currents and wind, which truly controlled the ship. In turn he could harness them.

He looked out over his Pearl, at his crew about there work. They had been at sea for about a month now, and things had been relatively quiet. Having met with a small merchant vessel and acquisitioned it’s cargo, satisfying his necessity to plunder, for a while, there was nothing calling to him with any particular urgency, except of course the open sea. But then, the sea was always calling to him, as it did to any sea-faring folk.

With nothing urgent to attend to he was free to sail at will waiting for something to interesting to take his attention. Their course was loosely set for the greater Swan Island, Jack knew a man there who would find his purloined cargo extremely interesting, but should an opportunity arise Captain Sparrow was more then happy to change his plans.

A flurry of movement in the rigging caught Jack's eye, and he lifted his gaze to see one of the two men from the nest clambering down to the deck. Jumping the last five feet, he scrambled across the deck and up the steps to the helm. Jack watched him approach; he was the youngest member of the crew and small, but he was agile and could clamber easily through the rigging.

“Capt’n,” he gasped slightly out of breath, “Falcon’s spotted somethin’ up ahead.”

“Well lad, what is it?” Sparrow asked raising an eyebrow. Falcon, a wiry old scoundrel, had the sharpest eyes Jack had ever come across; he wouldn’t have sent the lad down just to report a piece of drift wood.

“Falcon says he don’t rightly know. But tha’ it’s directly in our path and tha’ if ye kept yer eyes peeled ye’ll see it yer self soon enough.” The lad lowered his eyes apologetic for not being more useful.

“Orright then, back te yer post then.” Jack commanded and watched the boy scurry off and back up into the rigging. “Gibbs!” he called.

“Aye Capt’n,” the older man said approaching the helm.

“Take the helm for a spell, Falcon’s spotted something up ahead; I’m takin’ a look see.” Jack replied, handing the wheel to his first mate.

The Captain made his way to the bow, picking up a small looking glass on the way. Reaching the ship’s rail he put it to his eye scanning the sea for any irregularities. And there it was, almost directly in the Pearls path, a small white smudge on the blue green sea. Jack was stunned once again at Falcon’s eyesight; if he hadn’t known what he was looking for Captain Sparrow would have dismissed the smudge as a spray of foam.

He focused on the smudge trying to bring it into detail; it was coming closer each second as the ship sped towards it. After a minute he was beginning to make out the shape, and a minute later let the glass drop from his eye.

“I’ll be,” he murmured.

“Capt’n?” a member of his crew asked, looking up from his work.

“Prepare a line mate,” Jack said, “There’s a girl in the water.”

The man’s eyes widened, “Alive Capt’n?” he asked.

“Don’t know yet do I?” Sparrow said with an evil grin at the sick look on the man’s face. As a pirate he should be able to deal with death. The pirate hurried off to prepare a line silently praying he wouldn’t be sent into the water to retrieve the girl.

“Capt’n,” another voice said behind him. It was the lad from the nest, “Falcon thought ye might need someone te help with the girl.”

“Aye,” he said, dimly remembering the boy’s name was Tomas. “Go get a mug o’ water from the galley. If she lives, it’ll be the first thing she needs, savvy?”

“Aye Capt’n,” the boy nodded and sped away.

Looking out at the fast approaching smudge, he called out for the crew to shorten sail, effectively slowing the ship. Sparrow removed his hat and belt, he could easily have one of the crew fetch the girl but he was enjoying the small distraction from the helm and besides he was rather intrigued. Waiting for a moment until the now discernable girl was within swimming distance, he dived neatly over the rail.

Slicing into the cool Caribbean water, Jack swam out strongly, quickly breaching the distance between himself and the girl. He pulled up and treaded water, a metre or two away from her. Despite his earlier baiting of the crewman, he wasn’t terribly keen on disturbing a long dead corpse. Her face was covered by her long brown hair; she appeared to be clinging to a bucket to remain a float. It was then that he noticed the hair across her face moving slightly with her breath. She was alive.

With this new knowledge he crossed the open water between them and called out to his crew for the line. It came snaking through the air towards him just as he reached the girl’s side. He tried to pry her arms from the bucket, to tie the rope around her but she stirred and clung to it furiously; so muttering under his breath, Jack grasped her around the waist tying himself to the rope. He pulled twice, signalling to the crew to pull him up.

Back onboard he lay the girl down on the deck and once again tried to take the bucket from her. At first she fought again, but then her eyes flutter open her, glanced around and closed again. Her grip loosened.

Tomas stepped forward with his mug of water. Jack took a step back concentrating for a moment on loosening the rope from his waist. He turned back at the sound of strangled coughing.

Tomas kneeling at the girl’s side had poured the water into her throat too quickly and she had choked. The Captain rolled his eyes and took the mug from the boy. Glaring at the rest of his crew who were staring idly at the girl, he told them fiercely to get back to work.

“An’ don’t let me catch ye wasting time gawking, ye here! Ye too lad,” he said to the boy. Tomas had the strangest look on his face as he turned to go, glancing back at the girl once more.

Sparrow muttered under his breath, and turned his attention back to the girl. Lifting her head to put the water carefully to her lips, his hand encountered something behind her neck.

“Hello,” he murmured, pushing aside her hair, so that he could see where the chain lead underneath the front of the thin shift she wore. His hand moved down to pull it out, but the girls eyes opened, and saw him for the first time with some clarity. Her hands flew up, violently, defensively. Water sloshed from the mug, and Jack moved his hands back, to stop it from be over turned completely.

“Alright! Alright luv,” he said placatingly, meeting the eyes that glared at him accusingly. “Alright,” he said quieter this time, “I was just trying te give ye some water, savvy?” He lifted her head again, and her eyes softened at the word water. She tried to drink greedily, but he made her take small sips. “Ye don’t want te choke now.”

His eyes moved to the point were the chain disappeared. He was curious, but for now he put the matter from his mind. He’d find out soon enough.

* * * *

Jack checked the girl rather thoroughly for injuries; she allowed it in her weakened state, but she would struggle every time his hands drew anywhere near the chain around her neck, making Sparrow even more curious. ‘The more someone fights to hide something the more valuable it is.’ However he once again pushed his curiosity aside and concentrated on the girl’s wounds.

They were fairly minimal. Despite being extremely dehydrated, her wrists were blistered and her shoulders had been burnt terribly by the sun, but she would heal. Looking back at her face, he saw that her eyes had closed and her breathing was even. His eyes darted down to the chain around her neck, but she was clutching it tightly in her hand. He muttered under his breath about the stubbornness of women, and then lifted her up in his arms. Tempted though he was, he decided not to carry her thrown over his shoulder, he didn’t really want to have her waking up and causing a fuss.

He headed below, still managing to maintain his relaxed but commanding saunter, despite being a little weighed down by the girl. Passing below deck, he nodded and grinned at Gibbs who was scowling at him from the helm. There was a small berth next to his cabin, it was barely more then a cupboard with a bed and a porthole, but the Pearl had a full crew at this point in time and a cargo as well, this was all there was. Besides he grinned, compared to her previous accommodations this was a vast improvement.

Placing her on the bed, he looked her over properly for the first time. Her face, a little bloated from her time in the sea, although not remarkably beautiful, was hardly without its charms, and her hair was a pleasant light brown colour. Jack’s eyes, moved once again to the front of her shift, although this time he was not looking at the chain. He studied her closely, and wondered what she could be worth to him. If he was lucky, she came from a wealthy family and there would be a ransom, if not, well he wasn’t averse to the idea of some female company on a long trip at sea. Either way, he decided he had reason enough to keep her in some comfort while on board.

His eyes snapped back to her face when he heard her mutter something, she was still asleep but her eyelids were twitching.

“I’m sorry,” she rasped, her voice was rather weak but he managed to make it out.

“Sorry ‘bout what?” he replied trying to get some sort of information about her.

“I’m sorry I lost the knife,” she muttered, then she sighed and her eyes stopped moving.

Captain Sparrow stood for a moment staring at the girl with one eyebrow raised. Finally he began to chuckle; quietly he closed the door and stepped out into the corridor. It was definitely worth his while to keep her around, even if only to settle his curiosity.

Meeting Gibbs disapproving gaze, Sparrow ascended the steps to reclaim the helm. He raised his eyebrow questioningly at Gibbs hostility.

“Are ye about te say what I think ye’re goin’ te say?” he asked grinning,

“It’s cursed bad luck Jack, en ye know it!” Gibbs stated vehemently.

“Mate, what was I supposed te do? Leave ‘er te die, without even knowing what she’s worth?” he asked, in his extravagant voice, “If that’s the case, I might begin to worry about you and this hatred for women!”

“Jack! Ye know I like women as much as the next man. But not at sea!” Gibbs said, passing over the helm and heading off to direct the crew, already shouting orders.

Sparrow grinned at the older man’s retreating back, the amount of times and Gibbs had, had this exact conversation, he was almost certain Gibbs only kept up the argument for the sake of having it. He chuckled at the memories, and then turned his focus to the helm with good humour. The day however still had surprises in store for him.

The sun was slowly making its way towards the eastern horizon; Jack leaned slightly against the wheel. At the moment they were in water shallow enough to drop anchor and he was contemplating calling it a day. He was staring languidly out to sea when, he noticed a large black smudge on the horizon, he jolted upright at the sound of a cry from the nest.

“Ship Ho!”

For the second time that day Jack fished out his spyglass, and focussed in on the ship. There was something very wrong about it. Gibbs came up to the helm, and Jack passed the glass to him wordlessly. He took one look through it and cursed.

“She’s been set alight mate,” he breathed, “She’s out now but, I’m surprised she lasted this long.”

“Let’s move in and ‘ave a look-see,” Jack said, “D’ye know whose she is?” he asked.

“She’s a merchantman by the look o’ ‘er.” Gibb’s replied, “Wishin’ we’d found ‘er first?”

“Aye,” Jack nodded, “Burned ships can’t come back with more cargo.” He grinned thinly, “I’d like te know who did this. Bloody amateurs.” He muttered.

“You, Captain Jack Sparrow talking ‘bout ethics?” Gibbs laughed.

Jack grinned evilly, “But Gibbs ye know how much more fun it is to get the same lot for the second time!” Their mood however, turned grave when they saw the name on the ships charred hull.

“It’s the bloody Wind Skimmer,” Gibbs said in an angry voice, “One of Marcus ‘unters prize ships.”

Jacks eyes flashed and he cursed under his breath. "I think we aught te find out who did this an pay a small visit,” he smiled dangerously.

It had become an unspoken law amongst pirates, in the years since Hunter’s rise to glory that his ships were generally left alone. There wasn’t a crooked Captain in the Caribbean who hadn’t been done a favour by Hunter when he’d been a harbour master. He’d never asked for excessive bribes and had always made incriminating names disappear. Although every now and then one of Hunter’s smaller vessels was boarded and its cargo appropriated, the crew would give up easily and all in all the plundering had a friendly air to it. It was the pirates’ way of keeping Hunter honest, so to speak. In return his larger, richer ships were left alone, there were plenty of other self-important merchants to loot from.

For one of Hunter’s prize ships to be utterly destroyed did not bode well for future relations.

“I s’pose your lass came from here.” Gibbs said.

“Aye,” Jack replied, thoughtfully. His curiosity in the girl had just reached a new level of importance.

* * * * *

You were running, running as fast as you could, you were tired and your lungs were burning but you couldn’t stop running. If you stopped - It would be bad, very, very bad. But you didn’t know where you were running, or what you were running from. It was so dark, too dark. You wished so badly that it wasn’t dark.

As if in response to your pleas a light appeared ahead of you. Almost sobbing with relief you ran towards it. Dimly now you realised what the purpose of your running had been, you weren’t running away from anything, you were running to your father, because he needed you. Hoping you weren’t too late you ran out onto the deck of a ship and almost screamed.

The deck was covered with bodies; all lying in small huddles and what was worse was the sense that you were being chased had returned. You ran sobbing from huddle to huddle trying to find your father. With your tear-blurred eyes you almost missed him; he was lying on his back near the rail of the ship. Dropping down next to him you screamed silently,

“He’s not dead! He can’t be dead!”

You screamed it so vehemently that you believed it, of course he wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be dead. However a detached part of you told you that you were being hysterical, but you pushed it angrily aside. A roaring once again filled your ears, you shook your head trying to clear it, but it only grew louder. You looked up to see a giant wave towering over you. You had just a second to take a breath and hold onto your father before it crashed down on you.

Then all sense disappeared. You were tumbled over and over, in the roiling blackness; your ears were filled to bursting with the roaring of the wave and the thudding of your own heart. The only thing you were steadily aware of was your grip on your father and the small amount of air you held in your lungs.

The fierce current of the wave was tugging at the dead weight of your father's body in your arms. You tried to hold on, your fingers tightened, but the wave was pulling you deeper and deeper.

“Let go.” A voice resounded clear in your mind, you were unable to tell if it was your voice or your fathers.

“Let go. You have to let go.” And so with tears streaming from your eyes you let your grip loosen and you felt the burden slip away. Nothing had ever hurt quite so much as this.

The turbulence in the water settled, but you were so disorientated you did not know which way was up. You were floating in a black emptiness, without any sense of direction, without air. You were alone. But by letting go, you had reached acceptance. ‘This is it,’ you thought and opened your mouth to breathe, waiting for the water to fill your lungs.

Instead you raggedly inhaled a breath of air that tasted of sweat and fear. You gasped in another shocked breath and came slowly to awareness, and with awareness came fear. You made to open your eyes but they were already open. The darkness lay over you like a thick blanket, smothering you. You listened to the sound of your ragged breathing, trying to fend off the panic. You sat up stiffly and felt something slide off your shoulders. It was a sheet. Grasping at it, you bunched it up in your hands.

‘See,’ you said to yourself, ‘It’s real, I was dreaming, but I’m awake now, this is real.’

But why was it so dark? It was closing in around your again and you felt the panic trying to override your mind. Making a small tear in the fabric, you winced at the sound. You hated the sound of tearing material, but it brought you back to reality. It was dark, but you were awake. That was all you needed to know for now.

‘Maybe I’m dead.’

You made another longer tear. No this is real, I’m alive! Listening carefully to the sound of the tearing fabric, you regulated your breathing, concentrating on that. Drowning out the darkness.

Breathe in one, two, three, tear; breathe out, one, two, and three.

And so you sat tearing the sheet to shreds until there came a time when imperceptibly the darkness lifted. Soon you could make out the shadow of your hands tearing at the shredded remains of the sheet.

By the time the morning sun was strong enough to illuminate the room; you tore the last piece of the blanket into tiny strips and let them fall to the pile of shreds in front of you. As the light grew stronger, so did your reason and will to survive. The dream lay in shreds with the sheet but the memories were clear in your mind. You stood from the bed and took the half step across the tiny room to the porthole. You sighed deeply at the rising sun and took strength in it.

Your grief was not gone, but it was time to live again.

* * * *

You rested your chin on the porthole taking in the new morning. Slowly your senses were returning and you felt stronger, despite the fact that you were becoming aware of various aches and pains in your body. Now you could let yourself think about your situation, your first problem was who had found you. If you were lucky, the British Navy, or a Merchantman would have picked you up, maybe even one of your father’s fleet.

“And if I’m unlucky...” you muttered, but you weren’t going to let yourself finish that thought, “I’ll deal with that if it happens.”

You thought back, seeing if you could remember being rescued, - but the images were blurred and you were having trouble separating memory from dream. There was a vague image of a face with dark eyes, but you couldn’t be sure if that wasn’t just your imagination. As you thought about it you fiddled absently with the chain around your neck.

Suddenly it struck you; - there was a chain around your neck. Hurriedly you wrenched the chain out of the front of your shift and clasped the seal tightly in your hand. You sighed with relief, you’d completely forgotten about the seal. Holding it to the light you studied the insignia, the initials M H on a background of sails. Your father had always been proud of his emblem, you felt tears in your eyes, but were able to smile at the thought of him. He wa- had been a very good man.

Stuffing the seal back into the front of your shift, you blushed for a moment at the thought of being found wearing only the thin linen under dress. Pushing the thought from your mind, you examined the tiny cabin you were currently occupying. It was barely more then two by three metres, (A/N sorry I’m a metric girl, I could work it out in feet if you offered me a million dollars *sigh*) at least half of which was taken up by the bunk against the left wall. The porthole was to the right of the head of the bed. There were however two doors.

One was just to the right of the foot of the bed, while the other was in the middle of the right wall. It was odd, you thought, that such a small cabin would have two doors. You went to the door in the right wall first, as it was closest. It was locked. You scowled and hurried to the other door, you reached out to the handle, but it wouldn’t turn.

This was not good at all, you thought. Doors were either locked to keep people in, which wasn’t very promising for you, or to keep people out, which was even less promising. Maybe there would be an explanation later, but for now you did not deny the feeling of uneasiness in your stomach. You simply could not see why the doors should be locked!

Trying both doors again, with a little more effort this time, you growled a little under your breath. There was no denying it you were stuck. Sitting down next to your pile of shredded sheet, you prepared yourself to wait again. It seemed you were doing a lot of waiting lately.

The wait was surprisingly short in comparison to those prior to it. You were sitting on the bed with your knees drawn up to your chin, concealing the edge of your shift, when you heard a small sound at the door and turned towards it. After the first muffled noise there came a definite recognisable sound. A key turned in the lock of the door at the foot of the bed. Quietly the door was opened and a head appeared, seeing that you were awake, a man walked in.

He was fairly tall and of a lean build. His was hair matted into dozens of long locks, woven in with beads, clamps and pieces of leather. Dark audacious eyes, emphasised by wide cheekbones, stared boldly down at you. Trying to meet his wandering gaze you raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to speak and wondering why he didn’t. Everything about him made you decidedly uneasy. He had an inane air about him, but something told you that what lay under this exterior was entirely different. Finally meeting your gaze, he grinned roguishly at your questioning expression.

“Was there something lass?” he asked incongruously.

You choked back a stunned splutter at this statement, refusing to let him unbalance you. Showing any sign of weakness would not be beneficial. Quickly regaining your composure, you sat up straight on the edge of the bed and smiled sweetly.

“I was merely wondering, what it was you were here for.” You replied archly.

For a moment you thought you had taken the wrong approach. The man’s eyes narrowed infinitesimally, and you caught a sudden flash of steel in his manner, but before you could register fully what you saw the humorous veneer came back in place and he grinned again.

“I –merely- wished te welcome ye aboard –milady-” he said sardonically.

“That is kind of you I’m sure,” you replied in a tone that would have had her punished for impertinence at Madame le Moyne's, “But perhaps you could tell me precisely what you are welcoming me aboard?”

He swelled up over-grandly, “Why, ye be aboard the finest ship on the Caribbean Sea,” you raised her eyebrow at this, and he scowled slightly, “Me pride and joy, the Black Pearl.” He finished extravagantly.

Unable to hold back a snort of disbelief, you fought to keep from laughing. “And I suppose you’re the -great- Captain Jack Sparrow,” you said.

The man’s expression sobered and his eyes focused fully on yours for the first time.

“Aye.” he said with a simple seriousness that sent a chill down her spine. “Now, what I’m wondering, is how a lady of your-” his eyes moved down to the opening of your shift, “Obvious stature, would come to hear of Captain Jack Sparrow, most of me tales would not be bestowed upon a -gentle- personage such as yerself.” He finished with a flourish.

With a shiver you realised the reason for the light-hearted banter, he had been waiting for you to say something that he could use against you. Your heart went cold as the fullness of your situation dawned on you. You were back almost exactly where you started, all you had done was exchange one pirate crew for another, possibly more ruthless one. Ah well, you thought recklessly, you had resigned yourself to your fate this morning, and now you would have to deal with it, hopeless though it seemed.

Gathering the strength you could, you looked up at the Captain, this time noticing the direction of his gaze. Memory struck you like a hammer. The seal! You cursed yourself for forgetting, and your despair deepened at the thought of what this scoundrel could do with your fathers business if the seal fell into his hands. Feigning maidenly shock, you crossed your arms over the opening of your shift and glared at Captain Sparrow furiously.

Sparrow took his turn to raise an eyebrow at you, grinning licentiously.

“Honestly Mr Sparrow, what does it matter to you where I heard of you and beside what leads you to believe I am a lady?” you retorted, standing up to your full height and lifting your chin regally.

“Do I honestly have to ask?” he replied, rolling his eyes, “As to why I want to know, well, we found ye floating alone at sea not too far from the wreck of a rich merchantman. With this much information, I don’t know what ye’re worth te me. If ye are a lady of high status, as ye appear to be, then ye’ll most likely fetch a handsome ransom.”

“An’ if I be just a puir captain’s lass?” you asked falling into the rough common accent you had spoken with as a young girl.

At this Sparrows eyes narrowed calculatingly, as if measuring you up. Appearing to come to a conclusion, he grinned slightly and with one quick step closed the distance between you. Before you could register shock at his proximity his arm had snaked around your waist and pulled you close against him. Immediately you tried to pull away, but the way he held you, you could not use your arms to lever yourself away from him, your struggles were futile at best.

“If ye be just a poor captain's lass, then I’m sure we can find another use for ye, until we reach a port where we can drop ye off,” he said bringing his face very close to yours. “Now perhaps ye’d be so kind as to tell me yer name?” his eyes boring into your own.

“Why would I do that now?” you replied, stopping your struggles and meeting his gaze. Seizing one of the few possibilities open to you, you held firm.

His arm tightened around you and his gaze narrowed dangerously.

“I believe it would be in yer best interest, don’t ye?” he said in a dangerously lowered voice. Something in his face reassured you however. Oh he was ruthless and a pirate, but he wasn’t going to hurt you, at least not yet.

“No, I don’t believe so, you see if I tell you who I am you will be free to take whichever course of action you wish, neither of which will benefit me much at all.” you replied almost nonchalantly. “However if I leave you guessing, then your much in the same position as I am.” You stood still in his grip, which, albeit tight, was not brutal. His eyes flashed for a moment and you caught a trace of what looked very much like amusement, but whatever it was, was almost immediately replaced with a malicious scowl. Almost before you realised it, his free hand had come up to her shoulder and she was pushed up between the cabin wall and the scowling Captain. Your eyes widened and you were unable to contain a gasp of shock. For a second he looked pleased with himself for having unsettled you, but once again the façade came back down, he appeared once again purely malicious.

“Am I going to have to make ye tell me?” he growled into your ear. Taking a deep breath, you tried to settle yourself. For some inexplicable reason you felt light-headed and almost giddy. Concentrating on the wall behind you, you tried to dispel an insane urge to giggle.

“N no, I suppose I’ll have to explain it to you.” you tried to cover your stutter with an exaggerated sigh, appalled that you had let him unbalance you. “If I am a -lady- as you seem to think, then my worth will decrease terribly if I am in any way interfered with, won’t it.” Not giving him a chance to speak you rushed on, “So -making me- tell you would be entirely out of the question. On the other hand if I am just a poor lass, then it is well to my benefit to seem to be a lady.” You finished, looking at him innocently. You felt his hold on you weaken minutely, and caught the most fleeting of reactions run across his face.

“Ah you see, though,” his expression had become more intense now, but less malign, “All that depends on how long my patience holds. Possibly even a high ransom would be worth forgoing to sate my curiosity,”

“But you don’t know my worth! Are you willing to take that risk?” you replied quickly, meeting his eyes with a confidence you were beginning to realise you didn’t feel, a confidence which drained away at the wicked grin on his face.

“I’m a pirate lass, risks are part of my life.” And with that he pressed his lips fully upon yours.

It was a quick kiss, over in a second. Stunned you sank to the floor, not even aware that you had been released. It wasn’t until many moments later, when you had slowed the pounding of your heart that you realised he had left the cabin. As quickly imaginable, you ran to the door and tried the handle. It was locked again. You glared furiously at the door then threw yourself back onto the bunk scattering the shreds of sheet.

Jack slammed the door behind him, and locked it. How had he let you out-manoeuvre him like that! He glared fiercely at the door, but was quickly overcome with the urge to laugh. Looking over the encounter, he grinned and shook his head ruefully. He headed over to the helm chuckling under his breath; he had underestimated you it seemed. You were indeed something else.

* * * * *

Once again at the helm and in his element, Jack leaned comfortably against the wheel; it was still early morning and he figured he had about a half-hour of peace in which to plan his tactics. Your trick was clever he had to admit, but Captain Jack Sparrow was never caught without another card to play. Trying not to think in circles Jack tried to organise what he knew about “the girl”; he really needed to find something to call you. You were smart, not only had he observed that first hand, but also you would not have survived if you weren't. He shouldn’t have been complacent. You had to be a lady; no common girl could have held those kinds of airs. But you had spoken so convincingly like common lass that you couldn’t be any normal type of lady. Perhaps you were something completely different.

So, he knew he had in is charge an intelligent, odd, definitely odd, lass who might or might not be a lady and had been travelling on one of, if not the, finest ships in Marcus hunter’s fleet. Hunter was not averse, like some merchants, to taking passengers on his cargo ships, however he only ever took the extremely wealthy and influential, or close friends on his finer ships. Jack wondered what category you fell under.

All the unanswered questions were beginning to get on his nerves. Looking back on the conversation with you for the eighteenth time, he counted up his losses and gains. He felt a small satisfaction that he had been able to shake your control in the end, but that threat would only work so many times before you realised it was hollow. At least you didn’t know about his need for information about who had attacked Hunters ship; he always found that people who knew what you wanted from them would find a way to make it difficult for you to get it.

With a slight twitch Jack realised he had come to an unconscious decision to track down the aforementioned incompetents. Not that he doubted Hunter wouldn’t be doing the same himself, but Jack had a head start on him. Why should Hunter have all the fun? Besides Jack thought, feeling generous, he didn’t really have to dispose of the cretins, most of the fun was in the chase anyway. With a little thought he could contrive to leave them floating helplessly ready to be picked up by Hunter’s searchers. It would be a kind of present; Jack had always liked the man anyway.

The idea was beginning to grow on Jack, but before it could form fully it all came crashing back to the girl. Back to you. First he needed to find out about the cretinous crew from you, and that would take time, a lot of time, and thought too. Jack groaned at the idea of the days he could lose trying to get you to talk.

However, rolling his eyes upwards, Jack was caught by a sudden change of mood. Hunter would have no idea for a while yet, that the ship had even been attacked, and after that he would have no clue where to begin looking for the attackers. So when it came down to it Jack still had all the time in the world; time enough to have a lengthy battle of wits with you. Indeed there was still his own personal curiosity to settle as well as everything else. If he played his tactics right he could have a good month’s worth of entertainment and it had all fallen right into his path.

Jack began to look, once again, back on the conversation the two of you had shared, in a different light this time. One of your arguments sprang to mind; a lady’s worth would decrease decidedly if she were –interfered with-, but only if the interference was unwanted. One of the things Jack prided himself on was convincing –ladies- that a little interference was indeed quite interesting. He smiled shrewdly, the coming weeks were beginning to look rather appealing.

* * * *

You lay on the bunk and sighed. Your face was burning with an intoxicating mixture of shock, anger and fear, and you still had that strange dizzy feeling, but as you lay there it began to all drain away. You felt suddenly exhausted again. Groaning you smooshed your face with your hands. It all seemed so pointless, like everything does when you’re tired. You shook your head a few times in an attempt to clear it; you would have to stay focused to beat this Sparrow at his game.

Standing up and scrubbing your eyes you headed over to the porthole, hoping the sunlight would revive you some. It shocked you how shaky your legs were, preoccupied as you had been before you hadn’t noticed. Also the back of your throat was dry as a salt mine. You considered calling out for something to drink, wondering what kind of answer you would receive, if any. You figured, smiling to yourself, that if there was none you would have to start screaming; but you decided to save that one for later, you didn’t think you had the energy at the moment, and it was still rather early. You sat down on the side of the bed and took out the seal; you would have to do something about it before anything else, but what! Thinking about the seal was difficult; it reminded you too much of the events of the last few days, and you were using up most of your energy in attempting to keep those memories away.

You rested you head on your hand, but sat up again when you noticed a wet feeling against your cheek. The rope burn on your wrist had opened up and was bleeding rather steadily. Gathering up a few remains of the sheet you bandaged it up, tying a knot on the least battered point. Looking at your handiwork an idea began to form in your mind.

You took the seal from around your neck, unthreaded it from its chain and hung it instead on the sturdiest and longest shred you could find. That done you tied various other shreds around the actual seal until it was an unrecognisable knot about the size of an egg. Finally you tied the whole combination into the inside of the lacing of your shift at you left hip where the skirt was just wide enough to conceal it. You only hoped it was secure enough, it had crossed her mind to use the chain to make it more secure, but Sparrow had seen the chain around her neck and might notice it’s absence.

After even this small effort the lethargy at the back of your mind pulled at you, even stronger than before. You suspected that this lassitude came from the mental struggle you were undergoing in attempt to keep any conscious thought of recent events from your mind. You didn’t want to think, you were fighting not to think, and as a defence mechanism your mind was closing down, seeking sleep as a refuge. Tears began to build up in your eyes, as your hold on your memories and thoughts weakened a little.

Closing your eyes you closed the thoughts away again, sealing them tight. You lay back down, feeling as if you would melt into the small hard bunk. The only thought you spared as you drifted into sleep was that you would need to get something to drink when you woke up.

* * * *

The sounds of the crew coming up on deck from the galley shook Jack from his contemplating; those who had been on dogwatch went below for breakfast and sleep and those awaiting his orders approached the helm. After a month at sea it took only a few moments to delegate the day’s tasks, but the distraction brought to his attention his own hunger. He called Gibbs over to take the wheel, scanned the deck once more to check that all was in order and headed below deck.

Just as Jack was about to enter the galley he was nearly knocked over by someone speeding out. Reflexively he reached out and grabbed hold of the person, taking even less time to realise who it was.

“Tomas, lad, ye really need te learn te slow down!” he said rolling his eyes upwards. The boy blinked once, and then again, the situation registering. Then he began to talk all at once.

“Captain! I was looking for ye! Well I was an I wasn’, well I’m none too sure. Cap’n it are about the girl, only I don’t really know whether it’s important. Of course I could be all-wrong but it’s just, well, when I saw ‘er…” He was cut off by Jack holding out his hands.

“Alright lad, one thing at time. What is this about the lass?” he asked as if soothing a frightened animal. The lad took two deep gulping breaths and then continued in a slightly more subdued voice.

“The lass, Cap’n?”

“Yes lad, the lass.” Jack sighed.

“Well cap’n, ye see, I think I recognise ‘er.” The boy said in a rush. Jack’s head snapped around and his eyes bore into Tomas’s.

“How? Tell me everything lad.” Jack was hard pressed to conceal his thrill at this news. This was exactly the leverage he would need in future conversations with you.

“Well Cap’n, ye see I grew up at Port Louis with me mam, and me da was a sailin’ man. So ‘e was always gone, but we lived near the docks me mam and me and I was always off running up and down port. Hecklin’ the harbour master, an’ such, with a bunch of other dock brats.” At this stage Jack cleared his throat indicating Tomas should get on with it.

“Yes Cap’n. As I was saying there was a gang of us dock rats, and there was this girl. Her ol’ man did something in port, and she would sometimes hang around the docks. Don’ think she had a mam to look after ‘er as such, but she would be there and sometimes we’d let ‘er join us. Then one day, she just stops showin’ up, an’ I don’t recall seein’ her da out there anymore neither, never really bothered te find out why. But Cap’n yer lass from the water, well she’d ‘ave grown, it’s been years an’ well she’d been so long in the water as well, but the resemblance struck me straight away. Although now I think about it I mus’ be wrong.” The boy frowned, “But I thought I should tell ye anyways.”

Jack hushed the boy, and stood for a moment, thinking. Parts of his mind saw how Tomas’s story could fit perfectly, but another part discounted it completely. ‘There must be more to it,’ he decided.

“Tomas, go te the galley and get a plate with breakfast and bring it te the girl, also get her lots of water, she’ll probably still be dehydrated. She’s in the small cabin near my quarters, look at her closely but don’t let on you know her. When you’ve done that report back to me.” He watched the boy run off, shaking his head.

“Her Ladyship the Dock Rat.” He chuckled.

* * * * *

A/N: Here it is… finally. Sorry I took so long to update, but hey I am going to use being in Year 12 as my excuse for everything this year so there =P. All that aside I hope you liked this. It was a kind of filler between two parts of the story that I had worked out and I was having trouble bridging the gap, but I don’t think this turned out to badly.

TBC...

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