Chapter 1: "Death or Serve?"

The body bobbed in the water. The owner's arms held the wooden barrel fast. The owner was a young man, mid-thirties, with swarthy skin and dark eyes. His hair was black and was pulled back into a ragged ponytail. He had recently been a Leading Rate for the East India Trading Company.

The company was mostly in tatters since the death of Lord Beckett. Any pirate who came upon a Company ship no longer slunk away in fear like cowards. Company ships were now changing hands as often as a lady changes her clothing.

The man, along with his fellow crew members, had been given the option:

"Turn pirate 'n serve wit' us, or fling yersel' overboard 'n pray for life!"

The Leading Rate and six others had chosen honour over life. Now that he thought about it, though, what honour could be bestowed upon his name for dying out at sea holding a barrel? He did not even turn to see the last man, apart from him, give his final, shallow breath; he had to save his strength and couldn't afford to move the slightest bit.

His hands suddenly slipped from the barrel and he found himself submerged underwater. It was shock and surprise that had caused his involuntary movement and all because of the sight now before him.

A nightmarish ship burst forth from the confines of the water. The ocean had been calm and devoid of anything except the men and their barrels. The push needed to get the ship out of the water had caused the bow to momentarily leave the water all together, and it had slowly and majestically fallen back on to the surface of the sea.

The ship now sat peacefully on the calm Indian Ocean. It had a long pointed bow that took the shape of a great sea-creature's mouth with jagged teeth. Water poured from these jagged teeth and fell back into the ocean. There was no doubt that it was a tremendous and magical sight.

One of the dead bodies drifted towards the starboard side of the ship. A man climbed down the ladder at the side and hoisted the body out of the water and up on to the deck. The man did this with evident respect and care for the bodies.

The young Leading Rate was fourth to be rescued. He was taken up to the deck where he found who he took to be the captain standing beside the dead. The captain was of medium height and his skin was almost as dark as the Leading Rate; however, his skin had a wind-scarred-look to it. He had obviously been at sea for a while. His hair was dark brown, almost black, and sat in natural curls. Shoulder-length, it was held back from his face by a dark-coloured bandana.

The captain knelt beside the first body and gently grasped his arm. The man's eyes shot open but held a blank gaze. The captain whispered something to him.

"Death," croaked the man.

The captain nodded and went to the next body. All the men were finally hauled aboard and all gave the same answer to the whispered question. All but one. The Leading Rate.

"You are different from the other men because you are still alive," said the captain. "However, it is certain that you will die within the hour. I am captain of this ship. It possesses a strange ability to give a partial life to those who serve on it. It can forestall death. I ask every man a simple question, but the answer is not a simple decision. You may choose to pass on and be taken to the Locker where you will find peace, or I can grant you this partial life in which you would be bound to serve this ship. What say you? Death or serve?"

The Leading Rate mulled over the question. He understood that it was a simple question of death or serve but the decision would be complex. The moment he uttered the word "Serve" he felt a change occur inside him. He no longer felt the incredible hunger and thirst that had been so strongly prominent in his thoughts over the last two days.

The ship took off as quickly as it had appeared. Only this time, it did not plummet into the depths of the Indian Ocean - instead, it just disappeared with a blink of an eye.

"Step lively, men," called the good-natured captain.

The Leading Rate looked over the side and found the sea they now floated on to be black as pitch. The water was even calmer than that of the Indian Ocean; it was difficult to see any waves at all. There was only a hazy blot of land a few nautical miles ahead. It looked barren and bleak, with no sign of vegetation or life. Only now did the young man notice the scurrying movements of the crew on deck. They were lowering dinghies into the water and placing the dead men in a sitting position. Each one had a dinghy to himself.

"May you find peace, gents," called one of the crew as the boats slowly moved towards the land.

The crew stood watching as the sailors made their last journey to peace. The Leading Rate suddenly realised where they were. The Locker!

"And what be yer name, sailor?" asked a pale man with kind, watery eyes.

"Fedro Martinez."

"I'm 'Bootstrap', Bill Turner."

"¿Un pirata?" questioned Fedro.

"Aye, he is a pirate. But also a good man," called the captain proudly. "At the helm if you would, Mr. Turner."

"Aye aye, Cap'n Turner."

Fedro looked perplexedly at his new captain.

"I'm William Turner. Captain of the Flying Dutchman. Welcome aboard. That was my father you just met," Captain Turner said with a small smile. "Where did you live before you came to sea?"

"In a little town off the Caribbean coast. Cabo Rojo. That was before I was shanghaied into joining the East India Trading Company," Fedro answered with disgust.

"And you have family there? In Cabo Rojo?"

"A mother and a sister, sir."

"Then that is where we shall head. You must inform them of your fate," Captain Turner said. Looking up at the helm, he shouted orders to his father. "Set sail for Cabo Rojo, Mr Turner!"

"Aye aye, Cap'n!"

A/N: Review?

~Anna-Margaret

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