A/N I spell pirate the way they did in the 18th century. Deal with it. It is honestly not going to change any time soon.
I never thought that I would be a pyrate. Ma mere, my mother was a tavern wench in Paris where I was born. She told me that mon pere, my father, was killed by pyrates, by a man named Hector Barbossa. She said that my father was a merchant sailor. I was named for him, Wilimina Turner I hated pyrates because I blamed them for taking my father from me. But, zut allors, ce n'est pas vrai! It was not true. I felt as if I would need my vengance. That i needed to kill Capitaine Barbossa.
When I was growing up, Maman (mommy) told me that I looked like my father. I had his tanned skin and dark hair, but I have Maman's blue and green eyes. Eyes like the sea, she always said. I learned to speak english working in the tavern. You had to speak english to work there.
When Maman died I had nothing. I didn't want to work in the tavern. I had heard some spaniards telling about wealth that was found in the new world. I'd heard stories about adventures on the sea. Monseir allowed pyrates to stay in the inn if they payed a small fee. I hated this, but for the most part, the pyrates whom came in the inn were polite enough to me. Sometimes they would give me an extra shilling and told me to buy myself some rock candy. One gave me a peice of chocolate once.
I decided that I would leave Paris and go to sea. I cut my hair and bought boy's clothes, saying they were for my brother and my Maman was too sick and my brother was working, the shop keeper wanted an excuse, and I gave him one, whether or not he beleived me was another condition.
I signed on to a ship called Le Elmeralde and wen to sea.
Now I sit in the bow of my brother's ship, writing my story.