I don't own any of the PotC characters, all I own for now is Marti. This will stay the same until I add some new characters.
I also don't own the song at the start. (MTI) Enjoy!
There's about 10 chapters done, and when I get some reviews I'll load some more. Nothing like a good old pirate bargain.!
"Hey ho ho, it's all for all for one, hm hm hmm, hm hm hmm… love ya like a son…" Martina Buenos-Marotos' haunting shanty echoed around the docks as she sat with her legs dangling over the edge of the pier, her feet lightly skimming the fog that had gathered in the evening hours so that it swirled slightly around her giving her a slightly unearthly look. Her dark skin helped her fade into the background, but her bright green eyes reflected the moonlight in a way which made them glint and seem to flash every time she turned her head with the rhythm of the song. She had a brown and red faded bandana wrapped around her head with a mass of half dreaded, half braided hair draped messily over it and down her back. She had on a white shirt which would have contrasted with her dark skin even more so if it had not faded so much. It was not exactly dirty. Martina was not a woman who would go more than a week without washing. However, it seemed to have been worn so much that it had worn thin and had become camouflaged against the wood of the docks. Over her shirt there was a dark brown leather strap holding bullets, a rusted knife and other effects. She also had a belt around her waist with two pistols, another knife and a loop of rope attached to it. Her faded khaki shorts were quite tight to her skin which contrasted with the bagginess of the rest of her attire. They came down just low enough to be seen under her shirt which was untucked at the back. The rest of her legs were bare. At the bottom of these she wore a pair of brown leather boots which looked quite out of place on her well toned legs. She had one thick red and white (or used to be white) sock that stuck up above one of her boots, the other did not stick up as far and was just plain white. One of her boot laces had been replaced with a red piece of string. The other was tied with leather twine. Around her neck she had a red patterned bandana, a large gold medallion with the initials BM, and a small pendant with what looked like some kind of bird in flight. On her fingers were several rings. There were some large gold ones and one single silver one. On her face there was a dirty, white scar above her left eyebrow, that cut through her eyebrow, leaving a bare path through the hair. The scar offset her otherwise symmetrical face, with her almond shaped eyes with dark smudges of kohl under them. Her lips were as red as the bandana around her neck, and slightly split in some places where she had spent too much time in the sun. Her eyes had creases at the edges from looking up at the sun in her youth.
The dock was quiet, dark and foggy. It was nearly impossible to see any ships more than a hundred yards in front of your face. Martina had pulled a telescope out of her belt and was wafting at the fog in front of her trying in vain to see out to sea. She heard footsteps behind her and slowly lowered the telescope to her lap. In an instant it disappeared without any sign of movement from her. Her eyes lowered along with her head so that she could see the floor behind her while looking inconspicuous. Her eyes eventually settled on two pairs of boots, with very, very shiny buckles. Soldiers, she thought to herself, just what I need. In an instant she stood up and spun round to be face to face with two British soldiers, and chest to barrel of two rifles. She glanced down and gave the soldiers a cheeky for grin.
"Did not your mother ever tell ye it be rude to point a gun at a lady?" She said, her voice layered with a thick Spanish accent.
"What is your business of this dock missy," One of the soldiers asked her. From these eight words Martina deduced that this man, and possibly both, was sent to patrol the docks at night, (when it was at it's emptiest) for a very good reason.
"Business?" She sounded surprised, "Why I couldn't possibly say, but rest assured, when I be feeling I can say… well, you'll be the first to know." One of the men smirked knowingly,
"Now what were you doing with a telescope in this fog?" He asked, "Not looking for a ship were you?"
"Why would I be needing a telescope to see a boat?" She asked, innocently, "When the ones around here are so pretty?"
"I'm afraid that we're going to have to ask you to leave miss," The first soldier said, authoritivly, "You aren't allowed here without a ship in dock, or arriving." Martina looked desperate and glanced from one to another with wide eyes.
"But," She said, her lips pouting, "But, I've got a ship…" She objected,
"Oh, and where would your ship be then miss?" The second soldier asked, smirking at the first. Martina's gaze shifted slightly to just behind them.
"There," She pointed slightly and seemed to have fixed her gaze on something. Stupidly, and without much thought, the soldiers turned to look, the found themselves face to face with the wooden planks that made up the walkway of the dock, both with a pistol pointed at their heads. "Now," She said, in a voice that was so sickly sweet and innocent that if you couldn't see that she was threatening both soldiers' lives you wouldn't have believed it. "This is what I be about to do. I'm going to step away, and walk off down this here dock into the fog where ye won't be able to see me. And this is what you be doing. You be staying right where you are, until you feel it's safe to risk moving. How does that sound?" Neither man answered, and she slowly pressed the pistols into the backs of their heads,
"Yes," One said,
"Absolutely fine," The other whimpered,
"Good." She said, lifting the pistols and backing away with them resting on her hips still pointed toward the men. "Buonas noches boys!" As soon as she reached the cover of the fog she spun on her heel and ran from the dock.
"Mullroy?" One of the soldiers whispered,
"What?"
"Do you think she's gone?"
"I don't know. Try moving."
"Okay- wait, you move!"
"I'm not moving, she might still be there!"
"Well then neither am I!"
Martina heard them arguing in the distance and chuckled to herself, revealing a gold incisor tooth in her mouth. She reached the town of Port Royale and slid her pistols back into her belt. She took in a deep breath of air. It had been a long time since she had been in the town, and though it was night time, she recognised every street, even though she had only been there twice. It was a known fact that you learn your way around a place very quickly when you have the need to learn handy escape routes.
She slowly passed the boarded up shops, and houses. There was a bakery, that smelled of bread baking for the next day. She reached behind a groove in the board in front of the window and slid her knife smoothly down the edge. The board folded away without a sound and she pulled a bread roll from behind it, sliding it back into place. The store front looked unaltered and she walked happily away, taking a bite of the bread.
She passed by most of the major functions of the street. The brewery, the florist, and then stopped abruptly at the blacksmiths. She glanced up and squinted at the sign above the door in the near non-existent light. Although she could not read a word of English she recognised the crossed swords above the door, linked through a horse shoe. Cautiously she tried the handle, but it didn't budge. She moved silently over to the window where she caught sight of a candle flame flickering inside. Some one was in there, and there was a fire lit, so they were working. With an unpleasant image of hot pokers forming in her mind, Martina looked away from the window, only to notice that there was a slit of light coming from behind the smithy. She slid down the dark alley to the back entrance and slipped in through the back door without a sound. She managed to hide herself behind a pile of anvils an such so that she had a view of the man at work.
He was quite a tall man, with dark curls, but not too long. His clothes were smart, but sensible, and he looked like he worked very hard at his trade. There was something about the figure that made Martina want to get a look at his face. She crept around, slowly, until she wasn't behind anything, and only hidden by the shadow of the corner of the room. She held onto the wall and pulled herself up, dislodging a small stone from the brickwork.
The blacksmith stopped his work at once and spun to face the corner. Forgetting herself, Martina held up her hands to show she was not armed, unlike the smithy, who was armed with an extremely expensive looking pistol.
"Lleve a cabo su fuego- hold your fire- Turner!" She gasped, loosing all thought at the situation. A little confused, the smithy lowered his weapon, slightly.
"How do you know my name?" He inquired, "And why do you speak it as if we are familiars?"
"By the powers, it be a young Turner!" Martina said, shocked, "For a minute, I thought ye'd come back from the grave,"
"Do you speak of my father, William Turner?" He asked her, cautiously, "How do you know of him?"
"Oh, Bill and I go way back," She smirked, "So you be his boy, Will."
"And you are…?" Martina shot out her hand, rings clicking as she extended it.
"Martina Buenos-Marotos." She said, with an heir of pride, "I was told to find you, the blacksmith at Port Royale. You and your young bride, for there is an urgent matter that ye may be interested to involve yourselves in."
"You were sent here?" Will asked her, his pistol now by his side, "By who?" Although he feared he already knew the answer,
"Not sent as such, more advised. By the one and only," She said, as if building up to a big finish, "Jack, Captain Jack Sparrow."
The very same Captain was currently at the helm of his beloved ship, the Black Pearl. He held a compass loosely in his hand but did not seem to have much of a use for it any more as he could already lay eyes on his destination.
Through the darkness of night, he could see the faint glow of an ocean side town. And when the sea breeze allowed it, could hear the sounds of a busy town at night. He could hear bells, music, and the cries of jovial men and women enjoying life to the full.
The captain was merely a part of the ship to an onlooker. He looked as though he belonged there. Adjusting the wheel this way and that as his he had been born at the helm of the hip. His dark, dreaded hair flicked in the air as it was caught by the wind. He was humming an old sea song, and adding a few words when he felt like it. With no indication he flipped the compass away and took a firmer grasp of the helm. Just as he did this, the ship began to rock from side to side with the change in current. He could smell the town now, the familiar smell that was a mix of rum, sea air and ehem, pigs.
There was the sound of a door opening and then being clicked shut behind him. A woman stepped out onto the deck. Neither of them spoke for a moment, but then the woman said,
"If this wasn't your idea, I'd be saying it was crazy."
"Aye," The captain answered, distantly, "But if it weren't my idea lass, it would be." There was silence after this, and only the faint cries of the people on shore to be heard,
"Do you believe it?" She asked him, seriously,
"Ana Maria," Jack said, without turning his head, but with a slight smile appearing on his face, "At this point in time, I'm believing one thing only,"
"And what's that?"
"There be Tortuga," He said, "And there be our answers."
"Will?" Elizabeth Turner had heard voices from downstairs and had come to see what all the fuss was about, "Will- oh," She sounded quite surprised to find such a woman in her home, "What is going on?" Will opened his mouth to answer but Martina cut him off,
"My name is Martina Buenos-Marotos," She said, "And you are Elizabeth Turner? Oh yes, Jack told me all about you."
"Jack?"
"Yes, Jack has sent her here for some reason," Will told his wife, "One which I am yet to discover."
"Yes, well," Martina said distractedly, "Well, Jack seemed to tell me a lot of things, but the fact that you be Bill's son seemed to have conveniently slipped his mind."
"You appear to know a lot about us," Elizabeth said, discovering that she already liked the fiery girl, "But we know almost nothing about you, excepting you name of course," Martina smiled. She seemed to like Elizabeth too, although she was finding it difficult not to be amused by such a well spoken and high classed woman living above the local smithy.
"Do ye fancy a little boat ride?" She asked, cryptically. At the exact same time as each other, Will said,
"No." and Elizabeth said,
"Where?"
The two of them linked gazes for a moment but Martina ignored them and carried on.
"Tortuga be such a wonderful place," She said, "T'would be a shame to pass up such a wonderful opportunity to visit it again."
"Would it indeed?" Will said, this time with Elizabeth on his side. She had never been to the town, but from the stories she had heard, she was not sure she wanted to. "Has Jack got it into his idea to go on some mad treasure hunt?"
"Treasure hunt?" Martina thought about this, "Well, yes, and no. It's a hunt, yes, and treasure, well…"
"Not all treasure is silver and gold," Will said thoughtfully. Martina frowned,
"Of course not, there's diamonds and rubies, and sapphires and…"
"You know what it is," Will said, accusingly. The same cheeky grin appeared on Martina's face,
"That I do," She said,
"You aren't going to tell us are you?"
"Can't say I be doing anything like that."
"Then you can leave." Will said, "I know Jack well enough not to trust these cryptic clues, unless I want to find myself in a lot of trouble." A frown set in on Martina's face, and her green eyes flashed,
"Fine," She said, "But I say this," He accent began to set in, distorting some words, "Were it me, and I had this chance, I would not be saying no. I would trust old friends, and be at the dock at day break."
"Chance for what?" Elizabeth asked, picking up on something Martina had said,
"Chance, chance to find out who I be, and who I was." At this, Martina slipped to the back of the smithy where she had entered and disappeared into the night.