Disclaimer: I do not own any rights on Pirates of the Caribbean except my original characters and the storylines I invented by myself!

Prologue: 1723 The Betrayal

It was long after midnight when the first balls hit the water surface next to the „Eagle's Wing". Except the man who kept watch, the steersman at the helm and the man within the crow's nest no one was awake any more. The Captain and the crew had a little celebration that night because they all were on their return to England – back to their home waters.

After having spent more than a year at sea the "Wing" was on her way from the Mediterranean Sea back to the Atlantik to set course towards London. Her cargo hold was filled to the brim with valuable fabrics, flavorsome oils, precious carpets, barrels filled with wine, spice, olives and crates with tea and lemons. It was a cargo that would bring in a very good amount of money for the East India Trading Comnpany and a nice prize for the Captain and his crew.

They left Genoa – the last port on their route on their long journey – after having stored fresh water, wine and rum and supplies once again and now there was waiting only one single challenge for them: The "Wing" must try to avoid getting ambushed while sailing past the isle of Corsica and not to get captured by the Spanish while passing Gibraltar. So that was the reason why the Captain and the crew indeed celebrated their profitable bargains but not quite that frisky like they would do when they finally would have reached London.

It seemed as if the aggressor had waited for exactly this moment and it seemed also as if they were in the know about the fact that the "Wing" would try to cross these dangerous waters right within this night.

"Ship on port side! They're going to attack us!" The man up in the crow's nest tried to recognize who it was being hell-bent to attack them right here and now out of the dark, but there was no hint within this moment: "Wake up the Captain!"

The guard reacted immediately and rang the bell.

Within the Captain's cabin it was silent. A single lantern spent a little light. Apart from that the soft breath of the Captain and his lover were the only sounds being heard in here. They lay tightly embraced within the berth and were still fast asleep.

It took a while until the loud knocking at the door found its way to the Captain's awareness through his dreams.

Jack Sparrow was a young man in his early twenties. He was slender, gracefully built and of natural strength. His narrow face was tanned and youthful and a well-kept beard surrounded his finely carved lips in a very high lighting way. But what really dominated his pretty face were his soft brown eyes with their long dark lashes which he opened only unwillingly just within this moment when the knocking tore him out of his sleep.

Before he was totally awake the man who had the first watch aboard tonight rushed in while above, on the deck, the men were already in a swivet and a hustle and bustle broke out.

Jack frowned and gazed at the man half in disbelief and half reluctantly: "Mister Jacobsen, I suppose there is a very good reason being able to explain your for sure not really suitable demeanor, Aye?"

"Aye, Captain! Indeed! We get attacked and there is no sign who our enemy is, but, Sir, there is no doubt that this attack is meant dead serious. They want to scuttle us!"

Like to confirm his words a ball smashed into the ship somewhere next to the galley.

"Never thought our cook to be that worse!" The same moment Jack was wide awake. He turned at the figure still sleeping at his side: "Caithleen! Wake up! We got company!"

A black tuft raised from out of the cushions and shining gray eyes blinked within the diffuse light of the flickering lantern: "I will never understand why an attack always takes place in the middle of the night!"

"There's no time to philosophize, love! Hurry!"

Jack got dressed within only a few moments, forced his feet into his boots and grasped for his weapons. He already wanted to leave the cabin when he got aware of his quartermaster who watched with wide opened eyes and mouth while the young woman slipped into her clothes as well. Her naked skin shimmered within the little light of the lantern and the play of shadow and light let her female attractions appear much more than only inspiring.

Jack cleared his throat: "Mister Jacobsen! I think it's not your turn to rate the virtues of my girl. Savvy? So hurry, mate, up to the deck! Otherwise you will swab exactly that deck for the rest of our journey until we'll reach London! Got me! Well, if we'll already return – as it were..."

On the deck of the "Eagle's Wing" chaos broke loose. Not only the galley sustained heavy damage. A part of the rail got torn away. The same applied to the sails. Also the quarters and the freight room got hurt by more than one ball.

Jack did not succeed in steering the "Wing" out of the fire line and meanwhile the unknown ship came alongside. They threw grapnels over at the "Wing" and bit by bit both ships drifted closer together.

"Who are they?" Caithleen stumbled up to the helm.

"I've not the slightest idea. All I know is that we will end within Davy Jones' Locker soon. We, the ship and everything else aboard."

"We could try to get rid of them. A broadside should do. We have favorable winds and if we'll set full canvas we should escape..."

"A broadside say you? I agree, it's a very good idea, but you know that we could get ripped as well, do you?"

"Do we have another choice"

Jack wasn't able to give a her a reply. He grabbed her and threw her to the ground together with him when close above their heads a ball smashed into the mast. All around them splints got spread and the mast swung alarmingly but it did not fall.

Scrapers and scratches within their face Jack and Caithleen stumbled to their feet again.

"I can't help, love, but the idea of a broadside sounds much more alluring now. If you're still convinced about it I won't stand in your way. Hurry, love! Oh, and Caith, no needless risk! Savvy?"

"What do you think! I don't want to die here!" Caithleen hurried down the stairs and vanished below while Jack tried to keep the "Wing" steady.

It was too late! Although the broadside pushed both ships apart the adverse crew started to board the "Wing" and ere he came to know what was going on Jack found himself midst a fight for survival.

While he slipped under and through the strikes of the sword and the cutlass of his enemy and escaped both blades only within a hairsbreadth Jack had no look for the figure who came aboard now.

The Captain of the unknown ship had a determined look around until he got aware of Jack up at the helm. Mercilessly he pushed past the men aboard the "Wing" who fought for their lives and their ship.

The blast of a second broadside let some of the boarding lines tear apart and even another part of the rail got torn away. Coughing and smeared with smut Caithleen stumbled to the deck. She grasped for a hatchet and cut through the remaining lines until she got aware the furious Captain of their enemies being on his way up to the helm.

As fast as she was able to she hurried after him, came across debris, wounded and dead: "Whatever you may have in mind, you can stop thinking about it!" She grasped her sword and its tip struck his back right between his shoulder blades.

He turned round and within one fluent move his sword lay in his hand and he attacked Caithleen without another word. His strikes came fast, aggressive and precise and nearly every strike left a cut upon her skin.

"Foolish broad! You dare to step in the way of Henry Batiste? Fool!" The back of his hand hit her cheek with vehemency and Caithleen collapsed.

Barely with conscious Caithleen shook her head to get rid of the numbness. Batiste stood above her his pistol aimed at her: "You and this slob, Sparrow! What do you think which chances you have to escape? The Spanish are hell-bent to catch you and your ship and we will hand you over to them! Got me, little wench?"

"We?"

"Me and, my Capitaine! The prize is more than enough for the two of us, believe me! All I regret is that there will be not enough time for me to spend it together with you. Adieu, ma chérie!"

The shot cracked and Caithleen feared the pain must rip her. Her shoulder seemed to be aflame and she felt her arm getting numb. Tears welled up within her eyes – the same of anger and pain. How she even so made it to get up she wasn't able to explain later on...

She picked herself up and grasped for the small dagger she always carried with her hidden within her boot. She tossed it after Batiste with all the strength she had left.

All she hit was his thigh but his screams and his own pain provided her enough time to stumble over to the steps leading to the helm. She felt her blood running down her shoulder and she feared that everything would get black in front of her eyes before she would be able to reach Jack.

He himself had missed what was going on behind him. His enemy was swift, a very good swordsman – and for sure about a head's length taller. Jack swore with gritted teeth and ducked to escape another strike when a heavy slap tossed him back to the helm. A well-directed kick broke his sword and nothing else but the handle remained.

Jack feared he might faint when the other clutched his throat with both hands. He gasped for air and tried desperately to free himself from the firm grip when a shot cracked. The iron grasp loosened and with a dull sound his antagonist hit the ground – with a hole midst his brow.

Caithleen just wanted to crawl up the last steps to the helm when she noticed Batiste who crept up into the rig and tore his second pistol from his belt. She felt for her blade until she remembered that she lost it and even that one single shot from her pistol did already find its aim. She knew it would be too late until she would have been able to load her pistol again. There was only one thing she could do...

"Sparrow!" It was as if time stood still, when Jack heard the yell! He turned round, heard the shot and saw the shadow throwing itself between him and the bullet.

"No!" Within the same moment another broadside shattered the attacking vessel and the "Wing" broke free. The blow which hit the ship brought Jack to his knees again and Henry Batiste got tossed out of the rig into the sea.

When he picked himself up Jack realized that he was covered with blood – but for he wasn't hurt it wasn't his own, but...

"Caithleen! Love! For the world, answer me!" She did not move when he turned her round. There were two wounds – one bullet got through her shoulder and the other got stuck within her body. Rapidly he grasped for his bandana and pressed it to the wound. Her hand closed round his but the same moment Caithleen fainted anew. "Mister Jacobsen!"

"Aye, Captain!" The face of his quartermaster appeared. Hair and beard singed, his clothes torn but still alive.

"Take the helm! Set full canvas! Take care for the wounded and the dead and set course to the next port!"

"That will be Marseille, Sir! But I fear – taking the condition of the ship into consideration – we'll need about two days!"

"As fast as possible! We're in need for a doctor! Our surgeon got caught by the devil!"

"But Captain..."

"No ifs and buts, mate! Set sail for Marseille!"

The fever came in the course of the next day. Jack had sat already the whole rest of the night and the whole day within his cabin – next to his Caithleen within his berth. He cleaned her wounds again and again with fresh water, did not eat, did barely drink and did not sleep.

The "Wing" sustained heavy damage but she was still maneuverable and seaworthy. Fortunately they only lost a handful of men, too many at all but not as much as they first feared.

So Jack left everything what happened aboard willingly for his quartermaster. All he wanted to was getting Caithleen to Marseille alive. There he would find a doctor...

Jacobsen tore him out of his thoughts: "Captain! You should rest! You're not of use for her and your crew if you'll collapse as well!"

"Care for the ship, mate! I'll stay here! But tell me, did you find out something about our aggressor?"

"It was the "Chimère" . Captain Batiste..."

"He's no Captain, mate!"

"You know him?"

"Oh yes! I know him. This attack was just a means to an end. They wanted to sell us out to the Spanish and to take the prize which is offered upon our heads." Jack's eyes got dark due to restrained fury and scorn: "Someone else is behind that, mate. It's Chevalle! The "Chimère" is one of his ships..."

***Enjoy***R & R***Constructive Critisim Appreciated***