Oh, the horror! Look what you have made me do! I did not wish for it to be like this, not one bit! But, please just R&R this, then possibly look at my other stories! Please?

Summary: A young girl leaves home with just her slave-friend, and a sack of books. She boards a ship as a stoway, and finds out they're on a Pirate Ship, none other than the infamous Black Pearl! The two young girls must pretend to be boys to survive the harsh life of a pirate, but will they be found out?

Disclaimer: I own you all! No, not really, I'm just so hyped up because I'm freezing and can hardly feel my hands... I own Marianne, Bethany, Marianne's history and family, and whatever happens on the ship (until later notice) but I don't own the Black Pearl, England, the Caribbean, Cap'n Jack, or anyone else. Or do I? Nah, but that would be so cool.

Marianne wasn't exactly what you'd call 'An English Rose'. Sure, she had the pale skin, but it was slightly overstepping the mark, pixie-like and tinged with green. And, again, she had soft, thick, and slightly wavy light brown hair, but her eyebrows were so black it was hard to believe that that was her natural hair colour. She was skinny yet curvy, as the fashion was to be, but she was so tall her dresses had to custom-made, for fear of showing her legs. And her teeth, though they were perfectly white and straight (her mother made sure she was fed on savoury items, no sugar, no salt, for reasons unknown to anyone other than herself) were too large at the front, and too wide at the back.

But it was her eyes that were her utmost downfall.

They could be described as green, but that wouldn't do them justice. Yes, they were green most of the time, in the midst of the day, but if she looked the other way, or if the light changed, they changed too. In the dark, when her pupils were larger, they were silver, or if you preferred a less simple explanation, the colour of diluted swamp water touched by moonlight. Sometimes they were as blue as the sky, as the oceans, or grey, like storm clouds were brewing in her thoughts. Sometimes they were brown, a soft chocolate, or a rich mud. Some people called them wolves' eyes, some cats, and quite a few called them witch eyes. But there was one thing everyone agreed on.

They controlled the weather.

Despite Marianne's complaints, and arguments that maybe the weather controlled her eyes, not the other way round, people always grabbed her face and looked into her eyes to see whether they should sow their crops, or hang out washing.

"Miss Adams? Miss Adams?" Bethany, Marianne's sole servant, came up, washing tub full of clothes and water under her arm. She grabbed Marianne by the chin, and looked into her eyes. Pleased with what she saw, she ran out again, giving Marianne no chance to speak.

"Where has that blasted girl got to?" Jane, Marianne's mother, walked hastily in. "Ah! Marianne, you haven't seen the slave, have you?"

Marianne flinched at the word, but still gestured to the garden, where Bethany hummed a song as she hung the wet clothes up on the ropes that had been tied between the trees.

Jane Adams wasn't very rich. She had married a rich man, yes, but he died, and she found that in his will he left most of his money to his parents and siblings, leaving just enough to Jane for her to live with a small two-floored house and one slave. He had left Marianne a large sum, but it could only be got at once she came of age and was married.

Jane was always worried about whether she was losing money, and she held onto what she had greedily. She treated her daughter similarly to the way she treated her servant, and was desperate to marry her daughter off to some wealthy heir of a great estate.

"Bethany! Where is my bath! I must wash, I fear I shall choke on the stench if I do not!" She hurried towards the girl.

What Bethany said in reply, Marianne couldn't hear, but she was sure she heard the sound the impact of Jane's hand had made on Bethany's cheek.

Marianne waited until Jane had retreated back to her room before she ran to Bethany. She held her servant closely, rocking back and forth and stroking her hair. "It will be all alright, you'll see. Alright, alright." She murmured in the girl's ear.

"No-" Bethany sobbed in between her words. "It will – it will not! She- she will keep at me like a hound until my dying day!"

"No she won't. Don't you worry. I'll fix it." Marianne cooed, still stroking and rocking.

"H-how?"

Marianne opened her eyes, and scanned the horizon, thinking of a plan. Her eye settled on a ship mast she saw just on the edge of her vision, coming into land on the opposite side of the town to the docks. "Escape."

Before Marianne's father died, they had lived on a huge estate, in the country, away from any towns. There had been many rooms, all large and impressive, but the library was Marianne's favourite. She used to spend all her time there, at first being read to by the literate slave her father had bought for her. When the slave taught her how to read, he was used to help her father write letters and read replies, as his eyesight and hands failed him, as he grew older. Once that happened, Marianne set herself the task of reading every single book in the whole room.

She never did quite do that, as some of the books were so dreary she couldn't drag herself past the first page, but she read a large number of them. There were illustrated books on birds and other exotic creatures that she spent months committing to memory. But, when she overheard her mother's plans to sell the whole estate, including the library and books in it, she had to choose what she took carefully.

And now, years later, she was being forced to make similar decisions. She had stolen two grain-sacks from the windmill, and carefully put all the books in one. She found that it was too heavy with all of them, so she took them all out, and went through them.

Ah-hah! She could always leave the Wildlife books behind. No, she was too attached to them. The books on ships? No, if they were to leave on a ship, it would be good to know what type they were on and how it worked. The stories, about pirates and heroic sailors, fighting the rogues off? No, she couldn't possibly leave those.

She eventually settled on leaving the records books, which had names of ships that came into dock, their captain and crew, reason for docking, and cargo.

Now all she needed was a plan.

Hello! Please Review! I'd love it if you would. Yes, you! You know who you are! Meehee! Review, or the story may be in an... Unfortunate Accident. You understand? Good, so REVIEW!!

May Tra'ers guide you onwards

Razzy