AN: Yeah yeah, normal disclaimer…I don't own any of the rights or characters to PotC except my own...blahh. So as of now I don't have a whole lot of ideas of where I'm going with this. It's just coming out. Okay. Ere go story time.

Yo ho, heave together,

Hoist the colours high…

Heave ho, thieves and beggars,

Never say we die…

The lofty soprano voice floated like a whisper across the rolling tides. She sang and sang, despite the early hour. The young woman was sitting on the dock, watching the sunrise, like sparkling rubies on the smooth surface of the sea. The salty sea air whipped her long dark hair across her thin and pallid face. Her rather scrawny frame was draped over the wood, a bottle of rum clutched in one bony hand.

"Oy, you there!" a voice said, the words hitting the girl as though from a long way off. She turned to see a rather fat and smelly looking man striding towards her. "Take that pritty song somewhere else. There's work to be done 'ere." He belched loudly, engulfing her with the smell of rum and chewing tobacco. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, but nevertheless hoisted herself up and took her leave. Tortuga was indeed waking now, and it was time she got herself out of the way.

Making her way through the half empty streets, the lady searched for a place to sit and rest. Maybe today she could join a crew, get out to sea for once. It had been several weeks since she had sailed, after being kicked off the ship for a night of pleasure in the first mate's cabin. Not only was she now restless and bored, she was also lacking food and was quite penniless. Sighing, she swept into an inn titled The Salty Wench.

The inn was quiet, only housing three men, one at the bar and two in the corner with a bottle of rum and a long sheet of parchment. Their raised voices carried across the room. Even the barmaid stopped cleaning the filthy glass in her hand to watch the scene taking place.

"I'm honestly telling you, mate. If you can't be honest about your life at sea, then take your leave! You've no place on my crew!" shouted the mad behind the table, dark dreadlocks swinging as he stood to match his foe. The second man, large as he was, leered and stalked off. As the first sat back down and took a swig of rum, it was then that the young woman recognized his face.

"Jack Sparrow, what a sight to see," she purred, sauntering over to where he sat looking so dismayed. A thick French accent strung her speech together, along with the vast amount of rum she already drank this morning. "Don't tell me you have again lost your precious Pearl?"

"Captain, Captain Jack Sparrow, love," he said irritably "and it's not my ship I've lost, but my crew. I have lost a faithful crewmember. And I long to stir fear in these waters again…" he drifted off, humming, and staring into vacant space. The girl opened her mouth in a half smile and leaned forward over the parchment, so that her ocean green eyes were even with Jack's.

"Might there be room on that list for me then?" she whispered, long strands of spun onyx falling in her pallid face. Her sunken cheeks and eyes made her face weary and gaunt looking. It was still pretty however, and she knew she had Jack wrapped around her finger before he even opened his mouth.

"In all fairness, you look like you could do with an extra ration of bread, mate. You sure you up to this kind of journey?" he asked, trying to mask his desire and sound convincing. His voice came out husky. Anger bubbled inside the girl. In a flash, a silver cutlass had been drawn from her belt, and was now pointing at the jugular of one Jack Sparrow. His eyes widened in surprise and crossed to keep the blade in view. "That's interesting," he gulped.

"You doubt my strength because of my size? You dare make light of my skill because of my height? Or is it something else? Is it because I am a woman?" She hissed, small yet imposing, slight yet fearful. Jack stood. He half laughed.

"I plan to make wind in two hours time. And I must say we'd be ever so inclined as to have you join us on our voyage. Welcome aboard then, Miss, uh…" he trailed off, a fake smile stretched across his face, and fear in his eyes.

"Mademoiselle," she said with a half smile, stowing her sword back in it's sheath. "Mademoiselle Geneviève du Mer."

AN: Wow, this is the first story I've written in a WHILE! Feedback would be greatly appreciated! Merci!