Summary:
How did Barbosa find the charts leading him to the Isla De Muerta? He stole them from Jack of course! But...where did Jack get them?
Amia Marley didn't mean to acquire the charts leading to the Isla De Muerta. She didn't mean to cause dear old Jack so much trouble, either. Yet, when Jack accepts Amia onto his crew on account that she has maps of particular interest to him, trouble is exactl what awaits him.
Obviously this takes place before CoBP.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that Disney owns...which includes Jack, Barbossa, Bootstrap Bill, and any other character I decide to write about...and the Black Pearl and everything else...ect. ect.
Amia, her father, and most of their crew, however, I do happen to hold the particular rights to.
Hope you enjoy!
Divisions of young women walked lazily around the unpaved streets, glancing at the rare jewelry and fine clothing. Some were hanging over their husbands' shoulders, pleading with them to get just one small thing. Others were ignoring the expense and being choosy about what to get, not the money required to get it. Still others weren't paying attention at all to the merchant stores but were instead looking after their children who were playing and hiding in their skirts.
One young woman was pondering a silver pendant in her hands that a merchant was anxiously trying to sell. She did not stand out in the crowd; she wasn't particularly rich looking, yet she would not have passed for a peasant. She looked to be a lady of respect and well being. This was one reason that one shouldn't judge others for what they were wearing.
As she fingered the pendant and listened to the desperate merchant, her free hand twitched nervously. So intent was the merchant on looking at her in the eyes and making his case as to why she should buy his merchandise, that he did not notice that her free hand wandered idly over to the bag that held his days payments. Her long fingers closed around on the bag and swept it into her own purse, successfully not drawing any attention to the significant move.
Immediately, she had to hide a grimace of shame when she had completed her task.
"Please, ma'am, my children are hungry and between my wife and I...there is hardly enough money to put efficient food on the table," the merchant was saying, and by the look in his grey eyes, the woman knew he was telling the sufferable truth.
"I...the expense..." the woman said, stuttering over her words, trying to word out a sentence that would not sound too suspicious. Coming up with nothing, she frowned in annoyance.
"Aye, well. I shall take the pendant for three shillings," she finally said, biting her lip and wondering what kind of new mess this would throw her in.
"Bless you," the merchant was saying tearfully. "Bless you!" The woman waved his words away, reached into her purse, and pulled out three of the man's own shillings, being careful enough so that he didn't know it came from his purse. Her face was burning with guilt now, but she tried to push it away.
"I'm sor-" she began, but then caught herself. "Thank you." Without another word she turned heel and walked briskly away, still holding the pendant.
It was only after she had walked nearly five shops away that she heard the merchant's cry of despair.
"I've been robbed!" he started yelling. "Robbed!" Sucking in her cheeks, the woman started running, trying not to trip over the unwanted skirts that danced around her feet. The coin purse rattled against her hips, reminding her of the hurt she had just caused someone. That man's children would not eat tonight and it was her fault.
"Hang it all, Amia," she told herself, "you're a pirate. A bloody pirate. This is what you do." This was not enough to convince herself, but it was enough to send her thoughts reeling elsewhere for a few minutes.
To be quite frank, she was surprised no one had suspected her of stealing the man's earnings. She now reflected that she had only started running after he had started yelling about being robbed. This probably hadn't been the best idea in the world even though no one had noticed anyways.
At least living the life of piracy constantly kept Amia on her toes. Every time she went into a town village it was a shock to her to see how careless the civilians could be. She could steal the buttons off their shirts if she wanted to and they would hardly notice. It was daft to be so comfortable anywhere. Amia didn't even have that luxury on her own ship.
She had slowed to a brisk walk now and her blue eyes were darting around anxiously to find a familiar face in the crowd. When she realized that everyone there was dressed too elegant for a pirate's taste, she moved along until she reached the docks.
Only three small boats were tied along the docks, and all but one were empty. Despite the lack of boats, the crowd of men and women alike was numerous. Unlike the people in the town, these people wore ragged clothing stained with dirt and sometimes blood. Their hair was matted, their teeth often had several gold fillings, and a bottle of open rum was held in almost every hand.
Amia was aware that she appeared not to fit in with this crowd. Her father had stolen a dress for her and it was something that should have belonged to a lady of high status. Her curly hair was pinned up on top of her head, a feat she had a right to be proud of having only done her hair once in the last year. In her father's words, she looked "like a lady."
She was not to be overlooked by all and was irritated when two drunk sailors stumbled towards her. One put his arm around her, taking a swig of rum as he did so, and the other did likewise.
"What's a purty lady like yerself doin out on the docks?" the first sailor asked, leaning close to Amia's ear. Amia grimaced and slid out from underneath the sailors' arms.
"Gentlemen, you will kindly not touch me again," she said, acting as if she was trying to be pleasant. One of the sailors fiercely grabbed her arm in anger.
"We was just tryin to be nice to you," he growled. He had bright red hair that hung unappealingly over his eyes and his sharp, pointed nose stuck out at an odd angle. After taking his features in, Amia turned her attention to the grip he had on her arm. Angrily and fearfully, she tried to tug her arm loose but had no effect.
"I believe the lady asked you to stop," a cold, deep, and menacing voice said. Amia stopped trying to pry the sailor's fingers off of her and looked over her shoulder to see a tanned pirate towering over her with a sword pointed at the sailor who had her in his grasp.
In terror, the sailors ran lopsidedly away. The pirate sheathed his sword back and then looked at Amia.
He wasn't particularly tall, but he looked like a pirate that wasn't meant to be toyed with. His long hair was pulled back in a ponytail and his hat sat crooked upon his head. His face was weathered from years at sea, yet it still had an aura about it that looked kindly.
"Thank you, Bootstrap," Amia said gratefully. Bootstrap "Bill" Turner nodded in reply, straightening his hat as he did so.
"Those blighters are the sort that them governor folks need to hang," he said in disgust.
"Aye," Amia agreed. "Yet, we seem to be the focus of their attention at the moment."
Bootstrap rolled his dark eyes.
"Talking of being hanged reminds me; did you get something of worth this time in the merchant area?" he asked. Amia purposely didn't meet his curious gaze. Instead, she fiddled with the purse that had been given to her and tried to block out the man's desperate and hopeless cries that were still playing through her head.
"Aye," she said shortly, handing over the purse. Bootstrap took it but did not look inside of it.
"Something wrong?" he asked in concern. Amia prepared a lie about some farfetched reason she wasn't being entirely happy but swallowed it at the look on Bootstrap's face. He wanted the truth.
"I felt...bad," she admitted, feeling childish. "That man poured is heart's story out to me and I...I..." She released an angry sigh, not knowing how to form the right words together.
"There's nothing wrong with that," Bootstrap consoled. "It shows you're not heartless...no matter the role you play."
He began walking towards the opposite side of the docks and Amia fell in stride next to him.
"I am heartless though, Bootstrap! I took...I stole that money away from a man who has children! Children who are going to-"
"Please, relax," Bootstrap said, and it was more of a command then a request. Amia fell into a stony silence that was not broken by either of them until another familiar face met them.
"Cap'n Stuggard says ta get back on the ship. We're a leavin' soon," Possil, a short, dirty faced, bearded man said when they were within hearing range.
"Why else would we be here?" Bootstrap asked in his hoarse voice.
"I'ma just repeatin what the cap'n said," Possil growled. Amia had never liked Possil; he seemed like the type of man whom everyone would suspect if someone was unexpectedly killed.
Bootstrap began to talk with Possil and Amia trailed behind the two. She was anxious to get out of the dress that ruffled annoyingly with every step she took. She supposed if she'd been raised in a different lifestyle, breeches would feel like an oddity. But she hadn't been raised in a different lifestyle and on a pirate ship, dresses only got in the way.
It did not take long to re-board the pirate ship that Amia had grown to call home.
It was titled the Gold Cruelty and the name suited it well. The pirates aboard were downright nasty when it came to gold and treasure. They'd been known to kill their own allies if it involved getting more gold. But they were pirates and, as Amia knew very well, this was to be expected.
Walking up to the Gold Cruelty disconcerted Amia. She felt embarrassed to look so rich when surrounded by her fellow pirates. Especially since she knew that more than half weren't quite the gentlemen that Bootstrap was.
The three of them did not break their pace until they had reached the deck of the ship. Five pirates were swabbing the deck and looked perfectly miserable about it. Three other pirates were sitting around a wooden table, drinking rum and playing a di game.
Amia tried not to meet anyone's eyes and made straight for the captain's chambers.
In a hurry she opened the door and jumped in surprise when she saw her father already waiting for her. There was an awkward silence.
"Father," Amia stated, not knowing what else to say. Usually her father was nowhere near his quarters. Normally, he was behind the wheel, preparing to set sail for a new island.
"Amia," he replied equally. He was not meeting her eyes, but pacing round the room with the air of one who doesn't know what he wants to say.
While she waited for him to gather his thoughts, she pulled her hair loose and let it fall to her shoulders. When he still said nothing, she studied her father; something that she hadn't done in a very long time.
His dark blue eyes were soft and gentle now, but she had seen them come alive in fury. His chin was squared and his nose was too long, yet Amia was proud to call him her father. He was bold and tough, fearless and wise; he was a man worthy of captaincy, in Amia's honest opinion. Captain Stuggard Marley.
"How did looting go?" he finally asked.
"Fine. How did guarding the ship from unwanted strangers go?" Amia asked in retaliation. She succeeded in making her father smile.
"You know I never have a problem with that," he replied, his eyes sparkling with laughter. Amia laughed with him.
"I need to talk with you," he said, suddenly becoming serious again. Amia nodded.
"A'ight. But this dress is killing me," she replied, hinting that she'd like to change first. He succumbed to her request and after ten minutes of toying with ribbons and buttons, Amia sat in his chambers with breeches and a maroon coat taking the place of the far too fancy dress.
Captain Stuggard was rummaging around in his various charts in one of his drawers and while he did so, Amia fiddled around with the compass he used to mark his charts.
"Tell me," Captain Stuggard finally said, rolling out a used chart onto the table in front of Amia. "What do you know about the Isla De Muerta?"
Amia dropped the compass in surprise.
"The Isla De Muerta?" she repeated, curious as to whether she had heard him right.
"Aye." Amia stared at her father in shock. Many sailors had heard of the Isla De Muerta but no one Amia had talked to had ever been there.
"I know it's an island. I've heard loads of people say that only those who know where it is can find it. Many people don't believe it exists..." she let her voice trail off, scared at the way her father was looking at her. An insane gleam had crept in his eyes and he looked ready for some sort of adventure.
"Amia, I believe it does exist. And I believe that we can find it," he said quietly.
She stared at him incredulously. Her eyebrows came together and found herself, for the first time, questioning her father's mental stability. Perhaps being captain of the ship for so long had finally gone to his head...
"Maybe you didn't hear me," she said slowly, as if talking to an incompetent man, "Only those who know where it is can find it," she repeated. To her surprise, a very wide smile came over Captain Stuggard's face.
"Look at the charts, Amia." She obeyed and found her eyes widening in astonishment. Placed before her, were maps. Maps she had never seen. Maps that shouldn't exist. Maps labeled: Isla De Muerta.
A/N: Heylo! So, this is a remake of a previous story I wrote some time ago. Reading the old one back over now, it seems awfully Mary-Sueish and that's the last thing I wanted. So I wrote this one! I don't know if this chapter's any good, so it'd be downright nice of you if you told me if I should continue or not. Thanks for reading this far!
-Elle