DISCLAIMER : A way of saving one's own ass (Dogma moment sorry). Anyways, POTC characters are not mine, including the sexy eyeliner wearing individual (and you all know who i'm talking about). I do own however Felicity and her charming whore buddies (insert unenthusiastic 'whooo' here). AND DON'T BE THINKING ABOUT TAKING THEM BECAUSE THEY'RE ALL I'VE GOT IN LIFE. Well not really but you get the point.

A/N : This is after POTC 1, and POTC numero dos is not in mind. This story is in the first person narritive, so I talk in a 'piraty' style since the main character is not exactly the Queen of England. Try not to let it bother you and just go with the flow and who knows. You MIGHT enjoy it! mouth falls open

SUMMARY: Felicity Eaton is a salty sailor at heart. Unfortunately for this disgruntled 13 year old, the most adventure she gets is exploring the mysterious dark abyss of...the kitchen sink at her mother's brothel. However her oppertunity arises when Jack Sparrow blows into town looking for new crew members. Will this saucy lass finally get the adventure she's dreamed of?

Chapter One: Stowaway

Hell.

Exactly what I've gotten myself into.

The throbbing in my head is a constant reminder of what a stupid, impuslive, girl I am. The floor rocks more and more, as if to taunt me, and the food in my gut which sits precariously in my stomach.The crude knife that I had stuffed into my belt is starting to look mighty friendly, but I shake such thoughts out of me mind. I was once told by Father Jenkins that suicide is a mighty sin. Although I'm not sure what more possible damage it could do to my religious record, I'm not willing to find out.

So with these thoughts, I sits. And sits. And waits.

And then I find the rum.

I betcha you're wonderin' what sorta purgatory I landed myself into arn't ya? Maybe you've heard of it. It's the little ole boat called The Black Pearl.

But lets start from the beginning.

My name is Felicity Eaton and i'm the sauciest, cockiest, little tart from here to Timbucktu. Or at least thats what those salty sailors at the brothel where I work tell me, amongst other things, everytime I give 'em a bit o' cheek. But don't be jumping to conclusions and thinkin tha' I'm a whore because I ain't. At 13 years old ( at least I think), I'm far to young, and scrawny to be to any of the men's liking. Instead I occupy the position as official dishwasher, although on occasion I'll go out to the men to collect tips. I have this routine where I stick out my lower lip all weepy like and look up at them with wide eyes. This melts their black hearts along with their wallets, and they cough up their pretty pennies while saying things like, "Just like my daughter back home" or "You remind me of my little Franny". However, sometimes my act gets me the wrong kind of attention, and the sods tell me that I remind them of "other" things. That's my cue to grab the tip and scram.

The other girls resent me for my methods of earning money, especially since they have to resort to other methods. I can't help it though. I wasn't made for whorin'. Even my mum tells me. Every day it's "Fee, why can't you be more demure" and "Fee you walk like a man" or "Fee, why are you so crude?" You know it's bad when a whore calls you crude.

Well, oneday I'm washing the stale rum out of one of the mugs when Addie, one of the younger gels, comes dashing into the kitchen with a wild look in her eye.

"Everyone! Captain Jack Sparrow's in town!" Addie's outburst receives a mixture of reactions. The majority of the girls swoon as they place weak hands to their foreheads while the more experienced ones start scowling and clenching their fists.

"Jack Sparrow! Handsome devil he is!"

"Well, that handsome devil owes me a week's wage!"

"He slept with you?! But he said I was his one true bonny lass!"

"Haha one true bonny lass my arse! Join the club lassie."

"Who's Jack Sparrow?" I ask, setting aside the semi clean mug when my curiousity becomes to strong.

"Who's Jack Sparrow?!" Molly, a veteran here at Lilly Anne's Layhouse says incredulously. "You've got to be shittin' me darlin. He's only the captain of the infamous Black Pearl!" Molly adds, "That owes me 5 shillings, the cheating bastard."

"When's he comin'?" Lucy breathes, her eyes hungry with desire.

"Tonight!" Addie shreiks. Lucy grabs Addie's hands and they dance around the kitchen like frenzied poultry.

"Fee, you'll be a doll and take over my serving shift woncha Fee? I've got some business to attend to," Addie coos, while giving me pleading eyes. I scoff and agree even though I practically invented the puppie eyes, and shes doin'em all wrong. Addie squeals with delight and I'm covering my ears to block out the horrific sound.

Everyone knows the moment that Jack Sparrow enters the brothel. The room goes unearthly silent, and the only sound that can be heard is the steady thud of his boots on the hardwood floor. I freeze in my spot near the bar, and crane my neck inorder to catch a glimpse of the famed captain. From my position all I can see is a swaggering man with a wild mane of matted hair and randomn trickets, topped with a red bandanna and tricornered hat. I'll admit that he's as handsome as Addie says, and them some. He's also followed by an equally handsome man who was surprisingly not mentioned by anyone of the gels. I find a foolish grin spreading on my face as I relinquish my station by the bar and make a bee line through the crazed women towards the mysterious duo, armed with two mugs of rum. They have taken a seat in the back, and I can now hear their voices.

"Jack, I told Elizabeth that we were looking for new crew members, not pleasant company!" I hears a smooth barritone voice say. The mention of new crew members sparks a desire deep inside me tha' is to strong for me to ignore. It's not quite the prospect of being near the ocean tha' is so alluring, but rather the concept of having a choice. An option. Hope. The simple thought that my future is not predetermined as a whore. That I could be something else.

"Come'on Will, live a little, mate. It's only a matter of time before 'Lizabeth brings out the whips and chains and ties you down to the married life," A slurred voice responds.

"Can I interest you gentlemen?" A feminine voice that I presume as Addie, asks seductively.

"How 'bout some rum, love."

"Rum?" Addie repeats confusedly. Tha' wasn't exactly what she was expecting him to say. I see my oppertunity arise to introduce myself, and I push myself through the crowd toward's Jack's table bearing the beloved rum. I ignore Addie's murderous glances as Jack's eyes light up with joy.

"Splendid! What's yer name girl?" Jack drawls merrily.

I smile sheepishly at my feet and says, "Felicity Eaton, Mister."

"Captain," He corrects and then flips a coin in my direction which I catch instinctively. It's obviously an inclination for my leave, but I stay impishly rooted to the spot. Jack observes this and says, "Ye be wanting somethin', poppet?"

"I hear yer lookin' fer crewmembers, Captain," I says all polite like. When there's no immediate response I straighten out my back, bring a stiff hand to my forehead and belts out, "Felicity Meredith Eaton at your service suh!" Jack scrutinizes me for a momen' and then bursts out laughin, the cheeky bugger.

"Jack, I think she's serious," The charming curly headed man next to him says. I nodd vigoriously.

"Don't pay no attention to 'er, She's a little touched in the head," Addie cuts in as she leads me forcefully away. I try to resist, but her fingers tighten around my wrist like an iron vice, and I yelps in pain. "Go back to yer mommy now, or else I'll tell her what you've been up too and you'll get a whippin, you will," She hisses in a low voice, when we're out of ear shot of Jack and Will. I wretch my arm defiantly out of her grip, stomp on her foot and take off towards the kitchens. It is at this moment where I make up my mind to leave this hell pit forever and somehow find a way onto the Black Pearl.

I burst through the kitchen like a madwoman, ignoring the scowls and grimaces from the cooks as I make my way to the my humble abode, which is basically a closet with a cot. I grabs me a knapsack and starts stuffing it with anything in my reach. Mainly shirts and breeches. I frown at my collected items, wondering if they well suffice. I think of Jack and his eccentric attire. Will I need to look like that if I want to be a proper pirate? I suppose I could nick Addie's kohl stick and line my eyes like him, but something tells me it won't look quite right. Besides, she'll send the Spanish Armada after my sorry arse to scour the entire ocean if she finds out that I took it. I shrug and heave my knapsack over my shoulder, and make my way back through the kitchen, where I grab an apple, some bread, and a sorry looking knife that looks like it couldn't harm a fly.

I approach the exit, take one last glance at my home sweet home, and step out the door.

And I suppose that brings me to the present. Sneakin' on the ship was deffinately no difficult task since everyone was out and about town or dead asleep. I make myself comfortable in what seems to be a storage closet, and have been there now for what seems like an eternity. The sea sickness is brutal, but I drown my misery in the rum that I found.

And that's the last thing I remember before hearing the faint sounds of footsteps aproach my hiding spot.

Like it? Hate it? Currently wondering why you wasted 5 minutes of your precious time on this earth? Tell me, although preferably in a less harsh way :D