Hey guys, this is my first ever fan fiction so I'd love feedback. I've got a few more chapters still in progress and I'm prepared to carry on writing if I get positive reviews from them, so please let me know! Thanks- Sophie

I was running as fast as I could, pushing under-dressed and over-made up women out the way and stumbling over livestock. My long light brown hair was flowing out behind me in the warm Caribbean breeze as I made a dash for my last chance of hope. Tonight, I finally had a chance to get out of this shit-hole I had the misfortune to call home; something I had only realised how much I desperately wanted when the possibility of a life that didn't involve following my mother's footsteps presented itself. I felt fantastic, alive for once, running towards the port, chasing my dream. Of course, the fact that there were two enraged drunkards behind me only slightly dampened my mood. I heard one of them screech 'OLIVIA!' behind me. I laughed, dodging a barrel that they'd hurled at me. I seem to have a knack for getting myself into trouble but fortunately I seem to have a knack for getting myself out of it too. The thing is I never feel more alive than when I'm on an adventure; I love the thrill that every second provides.

I painfully twisted my neck around to see if the men were any closer and laughed to myself again. They looked ridiculous. One's overgrown mangled hair flying in his face while the other's formal wig rested lopsided on his head, obscuring his vision. Their clothing flapped about in the wind as they ran, like birds trying but unable to lift off the ground. Their names were Lord Smitherson and The Book-Keeper—the name which I'd creatively donned the book-keeper I'd worked for. He had never told me his real name, despite living and working in his store since I was twelve. The Lord was an Englishman, living in Tortuga as an official sent by the Governor of Port Royal to keep an eye on our apparently lawless island, although here he was known for running one of the biggest prostitute services in all the island. The Governor had no idea. I worked as an assistant to The Book-Keeper (well, up until last night at least) who had given me a place to stay in exchange for running his shop. I rarely saw him, since he was seemingly married to the tavern. However from the short visits he made, perpetually drunk and bringing with him a different whore each time, I had judged that he was not a pleasant man.

The ship I was running towards had only just been unhooked from the docks—I could still make it. Adrenaline coursing through my veins, I sped up, certain I was going to trip over my own feet. If I didn't get on that ship I was screwed. There was nothing left for me here anyway but now I'd have no place to live. I was almost at the end of the dock and the ship would still be within jumping distance if I made it there in the next twenty seconds. I decided that even if it wasn't, I would jump anyway. It'd be better than staying on land and facing the two behind me, who were out for blood.

Earlier today I had met two men who were in charge of this ship in the main square. I was walking past, looking for some thin cloth to make into a blanket, when I noticed them: one was older looking and stout, while the other was, well, intriguing to say the least. What had drawn my attention was not just the poorly-fashioned table, comprised of two pieces of rotting wood, out of place in the market place filled with regulars with proper stalls, but the second man. I'm very inexperienced with men in general, despite being eighteen years of age, but when this man looked at me, with dark bronzed skin, long beaded dreadlocks and eyes heavily lined in kohl, I felt strangely drawn to him. His chocolate eyes met my hazel ones. He smirked knowingly as if he knew what I was thinking and I looked away, trying not to appear embarrassed but I already felt heat flooding my face as my fair skin blushed rose. It was unusual not to have olive skin and coarse hair in this part of the Caribbean, so with my light complexion and fine soft hair I never seemed to fit in.

"So, love", said the man "Anything exactly you want? I'm sure a pretty lady like yourself," he paused, looking me straight in the eye, "has much more important business to attend to than standing around, talking to some scallywags like ourselves." He grinned.

His voice was a drawl, both gruff and sexy, even though I had no idea how a voice could even be sexy. He seemed to trail off at the ends of his words, leaving them hanging in the air, whilst looking at me with a bemused but interested expression all the while. I just couldn't tear my gaze away from his face either. It was sort of entrancing. I looked up and noticed a tattered orange flag above the stall they had been sitting at; the universal sign of a captain looking for a crew. I started to think quickly, this would be the perfect way to get off this godforsaken island!

"Um, I heard there was a captain looking for a crew, and, er, I would like to be part of that crew."

I ended the sentence with a more assertive tone than I meant to but I felt I had to over-compensate for the staring. There was a pause. As the conversational lull dragged on, I began to realise how stupid I must seem: me; a petite scrawny young girl, dressed in oversized men's clothing (simply because it was more convenient to work in than a dress), trying to become a sailor? They must be struggling to contain their laughter. He continued to smirk, regarding me with evident amusement.

"Ah, yes. The crew. So, dear…you are aware that we are, in fact, pirates, yes?"

Pirates? Oh shit, I thought, the idea hadn't even crossed my mind! Like usual, I hadn't really thought things through. But then again what had I thought they were? It wasn't like any reputable sailors would advertise for a crew in the middle of the day in the market place (of all places!), using a crappy hand-made table as a stall. And this was Tortuga, for god's sake! I decided in that moment it wasn't going to change anything; I needed to get out of here.

Without missing a beat, I replied coolly "Yes, of course. What do you think I am, some kind of idiot?"

I managed to keep my composure neutral even though my mind was racing. He seemed unfazed, continuing to look at me in this odd way and walking around me.

"Right,' he murmured, slowly, contemplating me. 'No no, of course not. So then, what makes you think you'd be a worthy crew member for The Black Pearl?"

The Black Pearl must be their ship, I deduced. After considering his question, I opened my mouth to reply when the other man, who had not spoken during this entire encounter, pretended to cough into his fist muttering 'Capt'n!' and then motioned him to the side. The man who was apparently the Captain, seemed perplexed, glancing at me and then the other man, and then back at me and finally saying " 'Scuse us one second, love", grimacing and raising a finger to emphasise the 'one second'.

He turned away and the other man immediately began speaking in low heated tones. I managed to catch the phrase 'woman on board' and also 'bad luck'. I rolled my eyes. After around thirty seconds of angry whispering, they both turned to look at me simultaneously. I narrowed my eyes. They turned away and then it was the Captain speaking to the other man dismissively. I could tell he was slightly irritated, he was using lots of dramatic hand gestures and kept glancing back at me. The other man started talking again but the captain cut him off by turning around to face me.

"Er…Gibbs an' me," he hesitated. Gibbs appeared exasperated. "Would love t'ave you as part of the crew. But we aren't leaving for another hour or so, so you'll 'ave to meet us at the end of the dock, at dusk. If you're not there in time, then the ship'll leave without you," he finished hurriedly as the man named Gibbs let out a frustrated sigh.

They were about to turn back to the discussion they were obviously having about me when he added confidently "Oh, and by the way, my name's Capt'n Jack Sparrow, but, I'm sure you've 'eard of me, of course."

"Yes, of course." I said, dryly.

I was slightly annoyed they'd had the nerve to talk about me like I wasn't even there, but the overriding emotion I was feeling was overwhelming joy and excitement. He frowned, disheartened that I hadn't heard of him, and I had to stifle a laugh; he looked like a child who'd just broken a toy he quite liked. I managed to adopt the bored impassive expression I practised whenever I was angry or upset, since I had learned over the years that it pays to show as little emotion as possible as people seemed to interpret it as a sign of weakness, a dangerous thing to show in someone like me, someone who could easily be taken advantage of. But secretly I was ecstatic. I had just been given the opportunity I had wanted ever since I could remember and desperately needed at this moment in time. Everything was falling into place. 'My name's Olivia,' I said, evenly.

"Ahh, Olivia," he said, almost to himself, as if testing my name in his mouth and deciding he liked the taste of it.

I hesitated, waiting for him to continue, to give me more instructions. He looked up, surprised I was still there and purred

"Bye now, love"