DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean, but I do own Johnny Depp, JK! I also take no credit for the song "I'm on a Boat" by The Lonely Island Ft. T Pain. I love the Pirates of the Caribbean! Enjoy!

Chapter One

I'm on a Boat

Have you ever been sent back to the past? I doubt that very much. So, I'm going to rephrase my question. Have you ever seen a movie where the characters touch something like a sword and wham! They're in … the eighteenth century? Like that movie Back to the Future? Awesome, that is. But this isn't the just something I can imagine. It's something I have to live through.

It had all happened when I was hanging out with a guy friend of mine. He's a total alcoholic-to-be, so of course he brought some alcoholic beverage. This time it was Tequila … but this time he had challenged me to a contest of seeing who could handle the most amount of shorts. Of course, he won.

Dave had been my best friend for as long as I could remember. I could trust him, even when he was far past drunk and loved him to pieces. As a brother of course! He was hilarious, loved pranking people, but also knew when to tone it down and be serious, concentrate on what it was that had to be done. So anyway, I took him up on this little game. It was more fun as my parents were out of town for the weekend and my older sister, Amelia, had gotten married and had a little girl of her own. This way, we were free to drink as much as we wanted without having to worry about anyone walking in on us.

But things just got a little wee bit too far. And by this I mean that Dave decided we should try and dig out way to China. How had he gotten the idea, I'll never known. Unless of course he had seen the neighbour's wiener dog digging a hole in the next yard. Little Susie was always trying to break free from the chubby old man and lady that lived there. Their names were Mr. and Mrs. Robinson. I had actually never known their first names and they had lived here longer than I had, which was the total of my eighteen years. Yes, I was a senior in high school. Although, the word senior had always made feel old….

So getting back to Dave's brilliant idea now…. I told him that we would try – just to get him to stop whining – and to go and get the shovels from the shed just behind the double car garage.

"Ronnie," he called in a sing-song voice. Ugh. How many times did I have to tell him not to call me "Ronnie"?! My name was Veronica Givens, not "Ronnie." He had given me the nickname once when we were younger, about twelve or so. I used to like it, but when he had called me it in front of one of the biggest bitches in school … that just didn't go over too well.

"Yes, David?" I merely growled, giving him the same treatment. He hated his full name. He said it was too proper and he would never settle for such a serious and smart sounding name. Oh well, he was pissed anyway.

"I got de shovels!" he announced as if he were saying he had just one a million dollars. I sighed and walked over to him and took one.

"Good job," I humoured. He grinned, not caring that I had just treated him like a five year old. Or maybe a dog … Baby? I like the five year old better – he had the same frame of mind. Then he grabbed the hose and cranked the tap thing (whatever you want to call it) and started spraying the ground.

"What are you doing?!" I asked, trying not to laugh as he danced around in a circle. The water hit me and I gave a shriek. I sighed again, running a hand through my now damp dark brown hair. Maybe he was trying to make the ground softer? He did have his smart moments once in a while. I shook my head at his strange antics and stabbed my shovel into the now muddy ground. I pushed down on it heard and eroded some of the grass, making sure that was out of the way. Dave was the next to stick his shovel in, and brought it back out, tossing dirt all over the place. I smacked my hand to my forehead and looked around, making sure the chubby couple weren't spying on us. They'd tell mom and dad for sure.

Then something occurred to me: we were so busted!

It was about maybe three hours later, after the sun had set and we had to turn on the porch lights to see what we were doing. Dave was so intrigued by the depth of the hole, amazed that the Earth was this deep (by now he had had about two bottles of Tequila and eight glasses of Kokanee Beer … he was plastered) that he pleaded to keep going. I gave in, despite how tired I felt and how sore my arms were getting. I was going to be stiff in the morning!

It was about ten minutes later when Dave brought something up. His voice was slurred and his words sounded a bit mashed together when he said, "you know … I always thought people would just dig a hole to China, but instead … they took a boat. I bet they were all like 'I'm on a boat!'" I snorted. I had only had the amount of fifteen shots of Tequila, so my voice wasn't as slurred when I replied,

"Well … aren't we just the sharpest tool in the shed."

"Nope, I think that would be this!" He held up his shovel. I sighed and shook my head. He then started to hum one of our favourite songs, I'm on a Boat by an artist called The Lonely Island. I sighed and sang along to his hum and he joined in:

"I'm a boat, I'm on a boat…." He mumbled a few lines, either forgetting them or his brain just couldn't tell him how to string the words together properly before saying quite loudly, "take a good hard look at the motherfucking boat!"

"Dave!" I hissed. He gave me a sheepish smile before continuing to dig. That was when his shovel hit something and a loud clank! Sounded through the air.

"Ooh," he said in a high-pitched, girl-ish voice. I smirked. He fell to his knees and began to dig with his hands, now wanting to "scratch the precious thing." I laughed out loud at his antics but kneeled down beside him to help out.

Fifteen minutes passed before we had dug deep enough to pull a small chest from the ground. It was black and covered in damp, cold mud. It had some gold designs all over it with a gold pad lock. I groaned, wanting to see what was inside it (it must have weighed twenty pounds or more!) but I knew that without the key, that would be virtually impossible. I sighed but then got an idea.

"One minute," I said to Dave who nodded and proceeded to shake the chest like a little boy in Christmas.

I returned fifty seconds later with the great sledge hammer from my father's shed. "Look out," I said, waiting for him to move his hands away from the lock before I wacked the hammer onto it. I did that over and over again about three times before I heard a satisfying crack and knew I had broken it.

"Nice!" Dave said, nodding at me. I smirked and threw the hammer aside and them took the locked off.

"Ready?" I asked, looking at Dave. "On the count of three-"

"Screw that," he said, grinned, and tore the chest out of my hand and flipped open the top. The smell of stale rum greeted us with a bit of rotting seaweed. What was this? I hesitated before I took out an old, ragged black bandana with a skull and cross bones on it.

"Oh!" I said. "Look at this!" I grinned and tossed it at Dave. He immediately took it and it tied it around his shaggy blonde hair. I smirked and watched as he took an old compass out of the chest and flipped it open.

"It's telling us to go … North!" I laughed and took it from him.

"This is so cool!" I couldn't believe this was in my own backyard! I think this was the more interesting thing I had seen in a long time. That and the old, moldy sandwiches Dave and I had found in our old tree house in a park the other summer … They had been there since were five, I think…. Gross, right?

"This is bloody wicked," he muttered, his words a bi clearer now that his brain had something more to focus on than drinking. We rummaged through some of the gold chains and various eye patches for a few moments. Dave was sure this belonged to pirates at one time and that they could have buried this in Scarborough or Bridlington (we lived in Leeds, England).

"I highly doubt that," I muttered. I found a very strange, but interesting gold pendant. It was a in the shape of a gold key. "Ooh, this is nice," I said. I smiled and un-latched the chain. Dave muttered something, probably a snide comment about my girly antics but I ignored him. I put the necklace around my neck. I did it up and immediately felt woozy.

"Dave," I said, my words seriously slurred now. "I feel – I feel – I feel funny…." He laughed. But the sound echoed in a few seconds, and I found myself spinning in a white room, which soon transformed into my house and Dave's laughing face, probably a the sick look I could see on my face- hold up! I could see myself? And my house, spinning. I got elevated into the air and I could see the whole of Leeds spinning, all of the markets and stores and what not. Even my own body where I was now out cold on the ground! This was strange!

Soon, I could see everything and as I was soaring and spinning over London, I could make out the London Eye. This was defiantly better than that! Not only was this a lot faster, you could see the whole of England not just London! But this was always scary, for things began to change and I could no longer see the Eye as it … faded away? I looked around, though it was hard as the air pressure was forcing my head to stay in one place, but I strained my neck (ouch!) as much as I could and saw that the houses were changing too, most of them becoming bigger and the roads disappearing. I could see more of the ocean and the geography looked much different than it had a moment or two ago.

And then suddenly, wham! I hit something hard and solid. I groaned in pain and rolled over, my eyes shut tightly. I opened them and gasped, only to shut them right away. It had gotten suddenly bright out, the sun glaring at me. And it was more humid than usual. And was that … a rocking motion? I willed myself to open my eyes, squinting a bit from the light.

I looked around a bit more, to see a few men scrambling about in dirty clothes. I could hear someone yelling, calling out orders to them in a husky voice, his R's rolling and asking for rum. I sat up, and ran a hand through my thick hair. I was indeed on a boat.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So again, I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean, or the song "I'm on a Boat" by The Lonely Island Ft. T Pain. I just hoped you enjoyed my fanfiction. I have a pretty good idea where this is going and I know the first chapter is a little fast but I rally wanted to get it up there. I have no school tomorrow so I might get the second chapter up sooner than I think. It will be longer too hopefully. Please read and review! Thanks and I will dedicate each chapter to each reviewer of each chapter. Love you all! And thanks again!

~ Moldy Voldy.