DISCLAIMER.
I DO NOT OWN THE CHARACTERS USED HERE. PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN (CURSE OF THE BLACK PEARL, DEAD MAN'S CHEST, AT WORLD'S END) AND IT'S SCREEN STORY ARE THE PROPERTY OF WALT DISNEY PICTURES.
Author's note: I'm trying this again :P
Morning broke over the water, casting a glittering glow over the waters of the Mediterranean. A calm start to the day, not a ripple breaking the tranquil of the sea's surface. A shadow cast itself over the sand, the shadow of a slow-pacing aging woman. Her skin dark and shrivelled from a lifetime of exposure of the Spanish sun and her greying mane scraped back into a tight bun. The woman's bead eyes glared out at the water, hearing the dim echo of what sounded like a whine. As her vision focused, she just about saw what looked like a sealed casket, floating on the surface of the water. Raising her hand and stretching her fingers straight on her brow, she squinted out. The object slowly bobbed closer to the bank of the beach, the woman stopping stunned as it became clear what she was hearing. Soft crying.
'Mi dios!' The elder exclaimed, rushing out to the water and shuffling her ankles against the breaking waves. She rushed with effort, making a hasty grab for the casket floating near and eagerly pulling off the straw sewn lid. Inside, a whining baby arching its back as it cried. A shock of black hair on its head and dusk black eyes to match, squeezed to a squint as the child cried. The woman blinked in disbelief at the baby wrapped in the white lace shawl, spying a rumpled note tucked harshly into the bindings.
'Lo que en la tierra?' She whispered taking a hold of the discarded paper and smoothing it out to read.
El niño tiene malvado pirata sangre. Hacer del mundo un favor y se ahogan, the note read. No name, no real explanation. Just a harsh warning.
The aging Spaniard gasped, not at the warning but more so at the prospect at what the letter proposed. Never would she harm a child, nor a crying one in need of nourishing for that matter. She pushed the letter into the pocket of her apron and looked down at the child rather sweetly.
'Hola bebé,' She cooed, scooping up the whining child and tucking it into the crook of her arm, already fond of her new found discovery. The baby continued to cry, distressed and miserable. Her shawl damp at the water having seeped through the casket.
'Shhh un poco,' The woman soothed, rocking the child and beginning to descend away from the beach. 'Shh.'