Land – an island – could be seen not too far from the small shi— boat. Boat, Eliza reminded herself bitterly— her ship was long gone, to forever rest on the bottom of the ocean. Keep a positive mind, she thought over and over again, much like a mantra. Her long, curly and raven locks danced with the wind, not really helping with her current task of sailing the pitiful boat. It was all but a simple tub of wood with a small mast and a makeshift sail made with a couple of blankets. At least she had supplies for a long journey.

She had known that traveling between worlds would be dangerous – not because of the travel per se, but for the creatures she was sure she would encounter – but the promises of gold and coins and treasures were too good to pass up. And thus, an unfortunate rendezvous with a sea beast, though she and her crew had been able to kill it, left her sans ship and passed out on a wood plank. Her crew, minus a few, didn't make it and those who did thought her to be dead and somehow made their way to land, unbeknown to her.

Luckily, some kingdom's ship passed by and all she had needed to do was act helpless, come up with some sappy story and the sailors promptly helped her get to land – her clothes were so torn and tattered that the sailors weren't able to identify her as a pirate. Not that being a female pirate wasn't on its own an unlikely fact. How she got the boat is a story for another time, not all that interesting, really.

Eliza's walk through memory lane was broken when the small tub reached the island's port and a wide smile immediately took over her lush lips, bright, emerald eyes glinting with excitement. The pirate threw a rope around a small pole on the wooden path of the port and made a tight knot to secure the boat – though if she got lucky enough, she'd soon have a new ship. Next to her small tub was a big, impressive one, actually, and the pirate sighed dreamily – it somehow looked familiar but she couldn't place her finger on it.

Eliza shrugged it off and the thought was gone as soon as it came and she promptly stepped onto the harbor, her long, black skirt fluttering with the sea breeze. The pirate was also clad in a blue blouse with a black corset-like vest, black boots and simple, three-pointed, black hat. On her waist was a belt and secured to it was a heavy looking sword with an intrincate design of a tiger on its handle on one side and a small but powerful pistol on the other. Beautiful pieces, really.

The pirate took confident steps and gracefully marched further into the somewhat familiar island; Tortuguilla. Famous for harboring pirates and for its pubs with women more than willing to bed a lustful pirate and strong rum. None of that mattered much to Eliza, except for the occasional drink or two when too much time was spent on the sea. On her mind was a plan: get a ship and a crew, and for that, she hoped that Lewis, her trustworthy quartermaster, was still alive and somewhere on that island. She would find the Treasure Island, even if it was the last thing she'd do, damn it.

Eliza stepped inside the first pub she layed her green eyes on and once inside, a chair flew in front of her, almost hitting her. The pirate blinked once, long eyelashes brushing over her tanned cheeks.

"Typical." She murmured under her breath, british accent heavy on her speech. You see, Eliza Har—Captain Eliza Hart is British. Well, sort of – she had been born in Ireland but was raised in England and thus considered herself to be British.

Eliza lived all of her childhood in London, as a merchant's daughter, but as she grew older, she wanted adventure, long travels and to sail far, far away from England – through some people and others seemingly human that clamed to be magical, she learned of the existence of other worlds. Eliza was skeptical at first but nothing like a good adventure and trip to find out – and find them, she did. After leaving London with a simple note to her father (her mother had passed away a few years ago with an illness and she had never been close to her father), she managed to pass off as a boy, under disguise, of course, and infiltrate in a pirate ship that claimed to be searching for a treasure on another world. Being in a pirate ship didn't really bother her, to the point that she even became one – sure they could be nasty sometimes – a lot of the time – but they did their job and that's what matters. And if the crew was a loyal one, even better.

Her transition from a normal girl to a pirate was an easy one, except for the usual sneer or scoff, "women on board brings bad luck" and et cetera. She was taken under the wing of a pirate, Blackbeard was his name – he taught Eliza how to close her heart, to not anyone in and destroy it. He praised her for her bravery and skills. But, that is in the past. It's history, now. Nothing worth to dwell on. She was 29, now. Oh, how her mother would be disappointed to know that she was still not married.

Of course, a woman like her, made quite a few heads turn around, if not for her unusual attire alone, but she prided herself on her looks – sun-kissed skin, a curvy body with long, slender legs and a heart-shaped face with plush lips, emerald eyes and a straight, small nose. A tiny smirk adorned her lush pair of lips and Eliza made her way to the bar.

The pirate sat on a stoll and glanced around flittingly for a moment before directing her gaze to the man behind the bar. After asking for a mug of beer and the latter being delivered to her, Eliza leaned a bit over the counter.

"I'm looking for a Lewis. Lewis Finch." Her heavily-accented, rich and smooth voice sounded before taking a swig of her cold drink, green eyes focused on the barman's own pair.

"Ay, lass. I 'ear he be lurkin' 'round this tabern." The man nodded once and resumed his work, polishing a couple glasses. Eliza muttered a quick "thank you", a tiny bit of relief flooding her senses for a moment – of course it could not be him, but hope is the last to die. She payed for her drink and jumped off the stool to start searching around for her quartermaster.

Soon enough, the pirate saw the scrawny, middle-aged man sitting with a few others – though his back was facing her, she could easily identify the tattoo on his neck; a dagger. Her lips twitched with a small, fond smile at the man. He had been somewhat of a father figure to her for the last 8 years, always supporting her and being stern when need be, even if she was, indeed, the captain.

Eliza stood behind him and crossed her arms over her chest, a faint smirk adorning her lips. "Lewis Finch." She said, hidding her accent as best as she could.

"Who be aski— Cap'n Hart!" The man exclaimed with wide eyes after turning around, wondering who had interrupted his next move in the game of cards he had been playing. And with an unusual gesture, he hugged the smaller girl, an incredulous, yet relieved laugh escaping the man's lips at the same time she let out an uncharacteristical squeak, followed by a small chuckle.

"I thought ye had gon' t' Davy Jones' locker, Cap'n! Oh, ye be a sight for sore eaye." The man finally let go and Eliza smiled widely, fixing her hat and smoothing her skirt.

"You know you can not get rid of me that easily, Finch." She offered a playful wink before taking a sit beside him, the game long forgotten to the man. "Now. We need a crew, Lewis. And a ship."

"Well, Cap'n, a crew I can eas'ly gather. 'ere are a few men 'round 'ere that are trustworthy." Lewis paused. "Now, a ship—I'm afraid that'll be harder."

"Maybe not." Eliza's eyes glinted with mischief and the man sighed, knowing that was definitely not a good sign. "Which is the fastest ship around here, Finch?" She almost whispered, not wanting anyone else to eavesdrop on their conversation. The man rubbed his chin, a thoughtful expression taking over his slightly dirty features.

"Hm... That be the Jolly Roger, Cap'n. It's the fastest ship 'nown t' this day."

Eliza blinked quickly – she knew that ship had seemed familiar. She had seen the Jolly Roger before twice or thrice, though never its crew. Of course she knew who the famous Captain Hook was, but she had never seen him. Yet. Tales of his mischiefs travelled throughout the worlds and she's heard them all.

A devilish smile tugged on her lush lips and she clasped her hands together, a plan already being formulated on her mind.

"Finch," she started with determination on her tone, though keeping it low for no one to hear, a small fire ablaze on her emerald eyes. Lewis sighed, yet again.

"We are going to take over the Jolly Roger."