A/N: This will follow the movie for quite some time. There will be no trace of any original characters until chapter three. Please bear with me until then. ;) And -- do let me know if you like it and would like to see more! Enjoy. :)

Early morning fog blanketed the Caribbean, the shroud of white drifting gently over the waters in a playful gesture of Mother Nature. Although somewhat of an inconvenience to sailors, it was, nevertheless, beautiful in its own way. The tranquil rippling of the dark water flowed, uninterrupted, into eternity, jostled only now and then by some miscreant breeze that ruffled its waves condescendingly. But they were soon forced to still as a large ship cut its way effortlessly through them, prow aimed solidly southwest toward Jamaica, and the soon-to-be Port Royal. The H. M. S. Dauntless was one of the Navy's best ships that would soon make its berth in Port Royal, and a magnificent sight to behold, as well. Perhaps the wind and water gave the immense structure a grudging respect, but the young girl standing at the Dauntless's bow rail gazing seaward accorded it, with little doubt, the respect that it truly deserved. There was a keen wistfulness to her otherwise unreadable expression as she peered into the fog that pressed around them, and, ever so softly, began to sing a song that she had heard floating toward them, one night. Somehow, the lilting tune and adventuresome, brazen words had stuck with her. It was a song that glorified the life of a pirate, and as she sang, "A pirate's life for me, " there was a moment when her voice took on a different timbre, a strong cadence that spoke of surety beyond anything a mere child could ascertain. It abruptly faded, however, and even her young voice took pause as a hand suddenly clamped down on her shoulder. She turned, startled, and gasped aloud, staring wide-eyed at the weathered sailor who was glaring down at her with narrowed eyes.

"Quiet, missy!" he hissed. "Cursed pirates sail these waters. You don't want to call 'em down on us, do ye?"

Unable to answer, she merely stared back, almost relieved when a sharper voice rang through the air.

"Mr. Gibbs."

Lieutenant James Norrington was a man naturally predisposed to the ability of giving commands well -- and having them followed. Tall, straight-backed, and stern, he fixed a glare upon the cautious sailor. "That will do, " he said at last, with a tone of finality.

"She was singing about pirates, " Gibbs protested, even as he released his grip on the girl's shoulder. "Bad luck to be singing about pirates, with us mired in this unnatural fog -- mark my words."

Norrington's mouth settled into a slightly thinner line. "Consider them marked. On your way."

"Aye, Lieutenant, " the chastised sailor replied, inclining his head slightly as he stepped past the Naval officer. Casting a last glance back over his shoulder, he audibly muttered, "Bad luck to have a woman on board, too. Even a mini'ture one." With a grimace, he pulled out his flask and took a quick swig from it before resuming his deck-swabbing.

"I think it'd be rather exciting to meet a pirate, " the miniature woman ventured, after a moment, with a glance at Norrington.

Slightly amused, the Lieutenant stepped closer to the girl, resting a hand on the bow rail. "Think again, Miss Swann, " he responded, somewhat curtly. "Vile and dissolute creatures, the lot of them. I intend to see to it that any man who sails under a pirate flag, or wears a pirate brand, gets what he deserves." Pausing just slightly for effect, he added: "A short drop and a sudden stop."

As a confused frown worked its way over the child's visage, she peeked over at Gibbs, who paused in his work to helpfully mime a man being hung, pretending to choke and desperately flail for breath.

"Lieutenant Norrington, " Weatherby Swann began, concernedly, as he approached the officer and the wide-eyed girl, "I appreciate your fervor, but I'm concerned about the effect this subject will have on my daughter."

With a small nod, Norrington acknowledged the governor's words. "My apologies, Governor." He strode further down the deck, calling orders to one of the men carefully adjusting the ropes leading to the sails.

"Actually, I find it all fascinating, " the young Miss Swann informed her father, lifting her chin slightly.

"And that's what concerns me, " her father replied. "Elizabeth, we will be landing in Port Royal soon, and beginning our new lives. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we comport ourselves as befits our class and station?"

Somewhat chastised at the implications behind Governor Swann's tone, Elizabeth nodded, turning back to gaze out to sea as her father walked away. Her dark eyes strained to catch a glimpse of something -- anything -- through the fog, and soon made out the distinct shape of a parasol, floating steadily toward the Dauntless. A small smile came to the child's lips as she leaned slightly over the rail, watching its progress as it bounced carelessly off of the hull and moved past her line of vision. Her delight quickly evaporated, however, as she spotted something else floating toward the ship: A plank of wood, upon which was what appeared to be a person. As it broke through the fog and drew closer, she realized that there was someone floating atop it. A young boy lay on the wood, seemingly unconscious. Concern filled Elizabeth immediately, and she hastily turned toward the crew, gesturing to the water. "Look, a boy! There's a boy in the water!"

Norrington instantly rushed to the rail. Upon catching sight of the unconscious lad, he called, "Man overboard! Fetch a hook -- haul him out of there!" Sailors scrambled to the rail, utilizing rope and hook to haul the boy from the water, and onto deck, supervised by a relieved Norrington, who noted, "He's still breathing."

"Where did he come from?" Swann demanded, looking first to his daughter, and then to the sea.

Any answer that he may have received was thwarted by a sharp inhalation from Gibbs. "Mary mother of God ... " he gasped, staring at the no-longer empty sea. The waters, littered with wreckage and debris, drew expressions of shock from everyone aboard the Dauntless. Amidst the floating bits of wood, barrels, and items that obviously had once made their home in a lady's trunk, several bodies floated, creating an eerie sort of path to what was left of a once-proud ship. Its hull still burned, fire greedily consuming each post, each rigging, and left jagged lines in a mostly blackened, ragged flag of Britain that hung from the stern. As the Dauntless slipped past the wreck, hushed mutters broke out amongst her crew.

Shaken, Weatherby Swann stared at the burning ship as they moved past it. "What happened here?" he asked, a trifle weakly.

"An explosion midship -- most likely the powder magazine, " Norrington replied, undaunted. This wasn't the first such end he'd seen come to a ship of the British Navy. "Merchant vessels run heavily armed."

"Lot of good it did them, " Gibbs muttered, brow furrowing slightly at Swann's disapproving frown. "Everyone's thinking it, " he protested. "I'm just saying it: Pirates!"

"There is no proof of that, " the Governor cut in, sounding much as though he were attempting to convince himself as well as dispel such thoughts in the others. "It could have been an accident." Even to his own ears, he didn't quite sound as self-assured as he normally did. "Lieutenant, these men were British, and therefore, under my protection, " he added, attempting to instill a bit more dignity and confidence into his still-feebled voice. "If there is even the slightest chance that one of those poor devils is still alive, we cannot abandon them!"

Norrington inclined his head respectfully. "Of course not, " he responded, turning to the nearest sailor. "Rouse the Captain, immediately." As he peered down the deck, he ordered, "Come about and strike the sails! Unlash the boats! Gunnery crew -- jackets off cannons!" With the crew beginning to carry out his orders, his gaze found Swann's once more. "Hope for the best. Prepare for the worst." To the two men who were bearing the boy onto the deck, he added, "Move the boy aft. We need the deck clear."

Sighing, Swann placed a fatherly hand on young Elizabeth's shoulder, and steered her away from the bustling sailors. "Elizabeth, I want you to accompany the boy, " he informed her, seriously. "He's in your charge now. You'll watch over him?" Without waiting for an answer, he hurried away. As the two sailors gently placed the lad down behind the wheel, she followed, kneeling next to him worriedly. Regarding him studiously for a moment, she instinctively reached toward him, brushing locks of his hair away from his eyes, gently. A loud gasp and a hard grip on her wrist, impeding it from moving any further, told her that he was awake. Their eyes met: his, wide with fear and surprise; hers, concerned and warm.

"It's okay, " she blurted, attempting to reassure him. "My name is Elizabeth Swann."

"Will -- Will Turner, " he managed to get out, still staring up at her widely.

"I'm watching over you, Will, " she responded, quietly, relieved as his grip slackened, hand falling back to his side as he withdrew into unconsciousness once more. A frown touched Elizabeth's lips as she glanced at his shirt; his abrupt movements had caused the collar to open, revealing a golden chain about his neck. Eyes narrowing, curiously, she leaned forward and carefully tugged it free, revealing a golden medallion. Smoothing her thumb across the blank, empty side that stared up at her, she slowly turned it over, gazing with a mixture of fear and trepidation at the sight of the hollow-eyed, Aztec skull that gazed back at her. Eyes widening, she looked from the medallion to the unconscious Will, gasping softly, "You're a -- pirate." A quick glance over her shoulder revealed Norrington striding toward her. Hastily, she stood, hiding the medallion behind her back as the Lieutenant approached.

"Did he speak?" the officer inquired, gesturing slightly toward the boy.

Elizabeth took a deep breath. "His name is William Turner, " she said at last. "That's all I found out." She almost held her breath as Norrington's gaze fell to Will once more, then released it in relief as, apparently satisfied, he moved past her, calling orders to more of the crew. Crossing the ship to the stern, she dangled the medallion from its chain in one hand, examining it curiously all the while. As she gazed past it to the sea, the movement of a silent, immense ship caught her eye, eliciting a puzzled expression from the child. It was one of the largest ships she'd ever seen, but its truly unique attribute rested in pairs upon its masts. This galleon sported black, ragged sails. Suddenly too frightened to move or cry out, Elizabeth could only gape at this new ship, attention drawn to the flag flapping wildly from its mizzen-top: The Jolly Roger. Holding up the medallion, she stared from one skull to the other, comparing golden to white. They were, in all ways, exactly alike. As the ship seemed to disappear into the fog, the rapidly-fading flag waved defiantly at the girl, and the skull almost seemed to grin widely at her. Panicked, she shut her eyes.