Wandering Child

A "Pirates of the Caribbean" fanfiction

Disclaimer:

This is for entertainment purposes only.

I do not claim any form of ownership over any characters from the "Pirates" or Disney franchise.

PART I

Runaway

"Wandering child,

So lost,

So helpless,

Yearning for my guidance…

Have you forgotten your angel?

Angel, oh speak,

What endless longings,

Echo in this whisper?"

~Christine Daae and the Phantom, "Wandering Child", The Phantom of the Opera


My feet practically flew over the ground, freezing, bleeding in some places. But it was worth it. It was going to be worth it once I was gone. My hair blew out of my face, away from my back and neck like a cape of rippling chocolate. Sweat was warm for only moments before it became cold and unwelcome.

I could hear gunshots, shouting, men cursing my name to the depths of Davy Jones' locker or hell. I didn't care. I was not going to die today. I didn't help a young boy convicted of piracy–he wasn't guilty, either, but the East India Trading Company was a band of pea-brains, so they didn't dare try him…wait, that was suspended. We weren't allowed fair trials anymore. If I was caught, it was straight to the hangman's noose to dance his jig.

Joy.

Port Royal wasn't the cozy little town of only a few months ago. It was now a pit of despair and darkness, a dead-man's wonderland.

As I arrived at the dock, I spotted a ship with a lantern lit in one of the windows. I rushed toward it, singing the song I knew would get me help–if they happened to be pirates–as loud as I could without tipping me off. "Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirate's life for me, we pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot, drink up me hearties, yo-ho. We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot…" I hurried up the gangplank, eyes wide. I ran to the nearest door and banged my fist against it, breathing heavily. Please, oh please let me in! I thought desperately.

The door swung open to reveal a rather drunken-looking man with a bottle of rum in his hand and his hat cockily askew over his dread-locks. He looked over me and smirked. "Ello, lassie, what might you be doing here so late at night?"

"Running from the hangman's noose," I breathed, feeling exhausted and out of breath. "Please, may I hide here for the night? Or just until they believe I jumped into the ocean to escape them?"

The man's smirk grew larger. "Alright…but where will you stay? Among the men of little valor I call me crew? Or in the brig…perhaps in the crow's nest where none will be able to reach to find ye?"

My brows knit together, "Wha'?"

He chuckled and clapped his hand on my back. "You need somewhere to hide on me ship, savvy? Where did ye think ye would hide? In my quarters?"

I shook my head, "No, I was thinking the galley, rum stores…?" I trailed off as he gave me the strangest look.

He turned to look over his shoulder and called to someone in there, perhaps a monkey or dog, "Hide the rum! We have a lass on board!"

"What in blazes are you going on about, Jack? How much rum have you 'ad?" another man shouted back.

My eyes shot open even wider. "Good heavens, you're him!" I whispered shrilly. When I was younger, I had heard stories of him from my father, a member of the Royal Navy. He'd heard of things that he wouldn't dare tell me for I was so young. "Captain Jack Sparrow."

"I assume you've heard of me then, good," Jack smiled, grabbing my wrist and pulling me into his quarters as I squeaked.