Disclaimer: I do not in any way own Pirates of the Caribbean or any of the characters in this story (except Vicki) so please don't sue me!

Chapter 1- "Welcome to Port Royal"

"The king and his men stole the queen from her bed,

and bound her in her bonds

the seas be ours,

and by the powers

where we will we'll roam..."

A lone figure stood resolute under the sunless sky, torrents of rain piling down upon the endless sand. Soaked wreckage was littered all around the beach, grim reminders that this wasn't a dream.

"Yo, ho, all together,

hoist the colours high

heave, ho, thieves and beggars,

never shall we die..."

The voice faltered slightly as a smothered sob replaced the tune, melting into a bone-chilling wail. White-knuckled hands clung to tattered fabric; empty, dark eyes scanning the horizon.

"Never shall we die…"

A spot of white appeared as the storm dissipated into light rain as quickly as it had come. It grew into billowing sails, the British flag flying proudly alongside them. It slid through the water, and within minutes, hauled up alongside the shore. Four British guards stalked down to the beach, followed by a decorated officer.

"I thought I had spotted a ship heading this way." He stated in a clipped English accent, taking in the sight of the glaring woman in a soaked coat and breeches. "And who, pray tell, are you?"

In reply, she unfurled the Jolly Roger in her hands. The officer was silent for a moment, staring at the insignia of a flying red bird behind a grinning, white skull.

"Ah, the Calypso." He sighed, placing his hand on his sword. "You are under arrest, then."

William Turner crossed the deck of the Flying Dutchman, taking a first look at the haggard men before him. 'Souls,' he reminded himself.

A hint of frenzy had settled over what seemed to be the rather large part of a crew. They whispered among themselves, glancing about as if searching for someone.

"Where's the Cap'n?" One asked aloud, a boy no older than thirteen. A mass of dark curls hung over confused blue eyes.

"Your Captain must have survived." Will answered as he began the task of ferrying them, handing them a lamp and sending their boat down to the water. The boy who had spoken up before looked at Will with a disappointed gaze.

"Cap'n said I could be the helmsman, when I was old 'nough." He stated quietly, earning a sympathetic glance from Will.

"He sounds like a good man."

"She is." The boy grinned as he stepped into his boat. "Hope she's all right. If she survived the storm, it couldn't have been in good condition. Sparrows are known to be lucky, but even sea-turtles won't help this time, says I."

Will leaned against the mast after the last pirate sailed on, not able to drag his thoughts away from what the boy had said. What did he mean, 'sparrows are lucky'? What did birds have to do with surviving whatever had taken that ship down…

"Sea turtles…" Will whispered, realization washing over his face. "Sea turtles! Not a bird, but a Sparrow! Something must be wrong… I must find Jack."

Seawater splashed over the rail, sending strands of braided, dark hair into Vicki's face. She swiped them away with a jeweled hand, shouting quick orders over the drum of rain and thunder.

"Cap'n, look!" She didn't need to follow her first mate's finger to see the approaching swell. Gasping, she wasted no time in pulling the helmsman aside. Straining to turn the ship, she attempted to swing it away from the brunt of the monstrous wave.

But she was too late. As she bounded across the deck in a last-ditch effort to turn the sails, the creaking of wood and rushing of waves overtook her. She clutched to the mast with all her might, glancing up at the young boy across from her who was also clinging to the wooden structure. A sharp pain erupted into the back of her head, and blackness overtook her.

"No!" Vicki flung herself away from the wall, scattering the horde of rats that had gathered in her sleep. Grasping the rusted bars, she took a shaky breath. Daring to close her eyes, her mind was bombarded with the vivid image of Trevor—the thirteen-year-old cabin boy, staring up at her with those young, terrified blue orbs.

Her kohl-lined eyes shot open, a tear escaping at the thought of the child. It had been his first storm, and most likely his last. As her mind traveled to the rest of her crew, she could not help but to let the remaining tears run down her face. Her first mate, Roland; he was the wisest old man she'd ever come across, and the most loyal friend she'd ever met. And what of Ricky—the witty, blonde-haired helmsman that could barely take his eyes away when she spoke to him? Grief overwhelmed her as she leaned against the bars, shuddering with silent sobs. Had any of them lived? And her ship—The Calypso was gone, gone to Davy Jones' Locker with no hope of return…

The clicking of boots snatched her attention. Lifting her red-rimmed eyes, she glared up at the officer who had 'rescued' her. He stared down at her in disgust, his voice rimmed with the apathy that only the British can attain.

"I am Lord Bristol, representative of His Majesty to this… colony." He seemed to hold back a snort. "Welcome to Port Royal, Victoria Sparrow."

Author's Note: Okay, so this is the first story I've posted on here. I'll update as much as possible, promise! But I sort of have to write the rest of it first. So reviews will help me so much! So all you have to do is press that little button… You know you want to! Cyber cookies for you if you do! smiles