Katarina Sinclair sat on a bar stool in Tortuga, watching indifferently as masses of drunken men and women surrounded her with noise, debaucheries, and drinks. Normally, she would revel in celebration, possibly even join them in their unrestrained happiness, but she was in a foul mood that no amount of alcohol could temper.
"Bad day?" the bartender asked politely, seeing as how she was the only person in the entire establishment to make out a complete sentence.
"You have no idea," Katarina exasperated, taking another sip from her drink.
The bartender stared at the curious girl. She was strikingly beautiful, with deep blue eyes paired with Caribbean olive skin and cascading chestnut curls. By her looks, he would've never have expected the like of her to end up in Tortuga with the rest of these pirates.
"Something you'd be willing to share?" the young man smiled sympathetically as he cleaned up after some drunken slobs passed out along the counter.
Katarina pursed her lips. Where to begin? On the account of the many bad days she had, that day didn't even rank. But Katarina's determination finally worn out after disappointment cause up to her that fateful day.
"My mother died," Katarina stated coldly.
The bartender's face grew solemn. "I'm sorry."
Katarina shrugged. "It's fine. It was a year ago, after all."
"Might I inquire what took her?" the bartender treaded carefully. He had experience with vulnerable women and knew that caution was highly recommended in these situations.
"She drowned," the blue-eyed girl remarked.
The bartender shivered. It was a terrible fate, knowing what awaited on the Other Side for those who die at sea. Join the crew or wander the seas as a ghost. Davy Jones was a cruel man and knowing the sea captain's reputation, the bartender was pleased with neither option.
"What of your father?" the boy asked.
"Pirate," Katarina said, looking down at her drink. "Been chasing rumors about him across the world."
"And?"
"Some say he's retired in Singapore," Katarina sighed, "Others swore they saw him captaining a ghost ship. But I don't know what to believe anymore."
Katarina had been searching for her father for the past year, starting with the day her mother passed away. Without second thought, she stowed upon a merchant ship to Port Royal and never looked back. Not that she never loved her mother: Katarina cared for her dearly. But there was nothing left for her back at Nassau with her mother dead.
"Did you ever meet him as a child?"
Katarina shook her head. "I've only heard stories. Memories of his time with my mum."
The bar was incessantly loud, diverting her mind from the many thoughts she had. A distraction the young woman clearly needed. After all, how was she to find the true Hector Barbossa if she had never laid eyes on him in the first place? A difficult task, indeed.
"What sort of stories, ma'am," the boy asked.
Katarina thought back to her mother's soothing voice as she imparted the bedtime stories she held so dear. "Tall tales. Ones about love and ruthless pirates and a ship called the Black Pearl."
"Black Pearl?" the bartender perked. "That be the fastest ship in the Caribbean, eh?"
"Aye," Katarina nodded. "The one with black sails."
"Why, that ship made port here an hour ago," the boy said, gesturing towards the windows at the docks. "Saw it with me own eyes."
"What?" Katarina stood up, eyes widening.
Things were suddenly starting to look better. A wide grin spread across the young girl's face. It suited her more to smile, the bartender decided as he watched the girl dig out a few silver pieces to pay for her drink.
"Thank you," she said before rushing off.
The bartender smiled. Women like that don't come by so often. It was a breath of fresh air from the wenches and prostitutes he's seen over the years. He kicked himself for not pursuing the lass further.
But if she's looking for the Pearl, the boy convinced himself. She must be mad. Mad as its captain, that one, to be seeking out a ghost ship. Best to steer clear of the likes of her.
The Black Pearl. A beautiful name for a beautiful ship. When Katarina first laid eyes upon the mighty black vessel, she could hardly glance away. The sails and mast blended so well into the night sky like a coat of black paint against the sea.
The young woman stood alone on the abandoned pier, eyeing the ship like a prized possession. The wooden boards creaked with every step Katarina took closer to the Pearl. She had been searching for the past year and today had been the watermark of her quest. Katarina had found it. She finally found the ship her father sailed. He was so close she could taste it.
What if my father was in Tortuga right now? Katarina smiled to herself.
She stroked the edge of the ship. Her mind pondered a plan, one to do with a seagull, a shard of glass, and a case of imported sugar. But her master scheme was interrupted when Katarina heard footsteps approaching.
Katarina knew of a few pirates and none of them were too keen on anyone getting handsy with their ship. She either had to confront the pirates head on or face the possibility of never finding her father. In the heat of the moment, she chose neither. With the footsteps drawing closer and closer, Katarina grabbed the rope and climbed aboard the ship.
Drunken laughter echoed the empty docks. That was enough distraction for the young woman to sneak below decks into the cargo hold, safe from prying eyes at the moment.
"Where be the captain," a male voice slurred as he stepped onto the top deck.
"He's in his quarters," another voice answered, "Asleep, I reckon."
"Best not disturb him," the voice replied, the first mate most likely, "We all know how he's like with a speck too much rum."
The crew muttered in agreement.
Katarina buried herself underneath the barrels of gunpowder and rum, hoping that the crew would simply fall asleep. No such luck. The Black Pearl pushed off port, leaving any sense of escape behind as the crew and their stowaway headed out to open sea.
The young woman sighed as her head bobbed with the waves. At least I brought a sword, she kept reminding herself, but she surely knew that would do no good. They were pirates. She was a poor seamstress's daughter.
