A/N: I am just going to say right now that this is my first Pirates of the Caribbean fic and I don't know how many times this particular kind of story has been done, so please don't leave and review saying "Do you KNOW how many times this has been done?!" Because I DON'T KNOW! I just saw At World's End and got this idea. I have not read any other POTC fan fics and therefore it is impossible for me to copy anything, right? This is my first time in the Archive, and every time I enter a new Archive it's like entering a new family, so it will take me a while to get used to everything here.

The Stowaway

Chapter One – Simon Wellington

The dock was a rickety piece of junk. It was carelessly built and dangerous to walk on, but it was the only way onto the boat without being seen. Claire Turner picked her way across the rotten boards, each step taking her closer to the destination of her dreams. The smell of the sea—sea salt, bird droppings and crab guts—was distinct in the air and was carried this way and that by the bitter wind. The seaweed that littered the shore had turned frosty over-night and the sand at the edges of the water was icy. Somewhere further out at sea than the harbor a Bowie bell sounded as the wind knocked it about.

The screech of a seagull somewhere close to Claire's good ear nearly sent her flying off the dock and into the water, but she managed to regain her balance just in time; unfortunately that meant twisting her ankle over to shift her weight back towards the middle of the dock. She bit back a moan as she fell down onto the hard wooden boards. Her ankle throbbed, but she was running out of time. The ship was about to set sail.

She stood up and half limped half hopped the rest of the way, not worrying about the dock anymore. Her shoes made an awful racked as she raced along and she nearly fell again. She had stolen the shoes and her outfit from her best friend Peter so she'd look more like a boy. She doubted she'd be able to fool her mother, but if she got on the ship and laid low for the first few days on board her mother would have no way of sending her daughter back to shore.

Claire finally reached the boat and climbed up the netting on the side. When she got to the top, she peered over the railing to check if the coast was clear. Seeing that it was, she climbed over the railing and onto the deck, and immediately busied herself with "carrying boxes" so she'd look like a regular crew member. She went over everything Peter had told her. "You are a fourteen year old boy," he had instructed, "Your voice hasn't yet dropped—but lower it a bit anyway or it'll be obvious—and your name is Simon Wellington. You have worked on Elizabeth Turner's—your mother's—ship since you were eleven but always in the kitchen, so that's why she never saw you. Got that?" Claire had vigorously nodded and he'd grinned wolfishly, giving her a hard slap on the back. "You'll do good kid. Write to me when you get to the island."

Oh, how she was going to miss Peter. She'd tried to convince him to go with her, but he'd refused, claiming Elizabeth would easily recognize him.

The fact that she was finally on a pirate ship made Claire's stomach flip with excitement. The boat rocked on the gentle waves and the sails flapped aimlessly in the breeze. Gulls screeched and wailed and fish popped out of the water and back so fast they left only a ripple and their stench behind. It was quite peaceful and beautiful there. The only downside was the pungent smell of the sea.

"Oi! You there!" cried a gruff voice from the other end of the deck.

Claire turned to see a rough looking man with an eye-patch and several scars on his face. "Me?"

"Yes you! Aren't you a bit young to be luggin' those crates around? And where to? On whose orders?"

"Um…Claire bit her lip, a story forming instantly in her mind. She stood up straight and lifted her chin up. "I ain't young. I'm fourteen. And I'm moving the crates over a bit to even out the weight. Nobody told me to; I'm just trying to help."

The man looked at her suspiciously. "What's your name, boy?" he demanded, "I don't recall seeing you here before."

"I'm Simon Wellington, sir," she replied proudly, "I used to work in the kitchens, but I've just been promoted to deck hand."

The man grunted and shuffled off to the bow. Claire breathed a sigh of relief. She was glad to have inherited her mother's good lying skills. Claire had a knack for lying, but no one knew it because they didn't know she lied.

Claire brushed a strand of brown hair from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. Peter had wrapped a long piece of cloth around her braided hair from the base of her neck to the bottom of her lock; he'd left two inches showing and the ends frayed out hopelessly. Her bangs and side-bangs stuck out awkwardly from under her hat. She breathed a stream of air up to her frock to clear the hair from her eyes.

Ten minutes later, the ship lurched and began to crawl out of the harbor, slicing through the murky water with grace. Claire gripped the side of the ship with excitement, gazing around the main mast and sails and at the open see before her. Her stomach flipped in elation. She was finally at sea!

A/N: I know it was a bit short, but this chapter was sort of setting everything up. Just in case you didn't figure it out: Claire is Elizabeth and Will's daughter, but she hasn't met Will yet.

Please R&R and tell me what you think!!