Author's Note - Drink tea. Drink it all the time. Drink tea from Kenya and from other parts of the world. Even if you do this and nothing else, you'll have something to be immensely proud of.

Chapter Four

It was a known fact throughout Port Royale that the Poco pub was a relatively respectable place of food and drink. The fare was fair, the staff was skilled, and while it was true that the Poco was neither large nor enormously extravagant, her patrons were loyal and numbered impressively. Among them was Will Turner, who was currently to be found at his accustomed table and listlessly pushing his spoon about a bowl of porridge.

"Now, Will," Carine Cash, Poco owner and proprietor, called to him over the counter, "we've mo' for you t' eat than that! D' you want people thinkin' that our dear author ain't got enough sense in 'er 'ead to write 'bout people eatin' naught but porridge? That'll be th' second chapter in a row, that will!" And indeed, the few others who made an appearance at the Poco in the mornings gestured to the wonderful-smelling and historically accurate array of dishes that they were tucking into with relish.

Will managed a small smile and shook his head. "No, really, it's just fine. I'm just fine." Carine eyed him as she finished drying her dishes, and pulled a chair up to his table when she was done. She tossed her dark hair.

"Wot's th' bother, lad?"

The blacksmith bit back a chuckle at hearing Carine refer to him as a 'lad'. He been familiar with both Cash sisters growing up in the port and Melanie, the older, was much closer to his age than the flamboyant Carine. He decided against reminding her - at present, she was behaving very well. Ordinarily, she took it upon herself to announce (every hour and seemingly on the hour) Elizabeth's continued absence and try her best to flirt with him as he ate. Equally ordinarily, this did not bother him. But today -

"Carine, have you ever felt as though your life was missing something?" The young barmaid had rested her chin on her hands and was gazing raptly at him. She liked to watch his little moustache move as he spoke and she shook her head slightly so that he would continue. Will's eyes were far away. "Lately, I've felt that way. I've felt as though my life is missing something. It might be something small ... some little change. Maybe there's something that I want to do without knowing it. Maybe there's a place I should see, but I don't know where to find it. Does any of this make sense to you?"

"Most of it," Carine murmured. "Go on."

"I don't know. I suppose I want change. I suppose I want to have an adventure. I wish I knew where to find - "

"Oh!" exclaimed the kitchen help sourly, and both barmaid and blacksmith turned to see the elderly cook shaking her head as she cleared a table. She saw then looking, and held out her palm. "See this? See these?" Obligingly, Carine stood to examine the multitude of coins that the woman proffered.

"Someone's tried t' pay wif these again?" asked Carine. The older woman snorted her agreement.

"It doesn't even look like a proper coin, does it, sir and miss?" She tossed one for Will to see and emptied her palm into Carine's hands. She then went muttering back to the kitchen, and Will thought he caught something about 'no good thievin' authors' and 'the sacrifice of profit for plot points.'

Carine, however, seemed less than surprised. In fact, she looked grimly satisfied. "D' you know what these are?" she asked Will, who had been politely waiting for a break in dialogue and description to examine the coin given him. He traced over the tiny etched words with a fingernail before he shook his head.

"These coins 'r advertisements for the QuatriPirate Tourney," she said, clinking them together in her hands. "Every few decades like, a tournament is 'eld wot brings together pirates from all over th' world t' compete for fame n' glorious prizes!"

"Really?"

"Surely enough. Wot's more, pirates compete n' teams o' four wif different categories." Her brow furrowed briefly. "Though t' think on it, I ne'er understood 'ow that'd work wif sharin' prizes n' all." There was little that could be called listlessness to Will now. His eyes were bright.

"What sort of categories?"

Carine laughed at him. "Come now, darlin'! Ain't you s'pposed t' be a sharp one? Says right on th' coin." Will's eyes dropped to his hand again, and he reread both sides of the little rhyme.

"Scoundrel's heart?" He asked. Carine rolled her eyes.

"I think you'd find use in a thesaurus, oh William," she replied. "Each category represents a bit o' wot's meant in bein' a pirate. S' meant t' be symbolic, I imagine. Think on each, loverly one. Strength n' shot?"

"A person who's good with a gun?"

"No doubt, smithy," Carine replied. "Though n' such an event as this, they'd do well t' be extraordinary good wif a gun. Pincher?"

"Thief?" he offered.

"Right, right," she agreed.

"A swordsman would be the third," Will said with some pride. "But the last - blood and brine? Partaking?" Carine gestured over her shoulder towards the bar and to the mugs and bottles that lined the wall. "Someone who drinks?" Carine nodded.

"Shooter, thief, swordmaster n' drunk. All the finest things t' be found n' a scallywag, they are."

Will, thinking of Jack Sparrow, could not help but agree with that. He paused then, because the thought of Jack Sparrow coming alongside the thought of such an event was enough to give anyone pause. Carine waited patiently for the blacksmith to put two and two together. It must, she decided, take an astonishing amount of energy to grow such wonderful hair. It made sense that something might need to be sacrificed.

There was - eventually - a glorious dawning on Will Turner's face. "I should enter! With Jack!"

"Well there's an idea," said Carine. "But how's a blacksmith t' do that when you're 'ere and Jack's all th' way - "

"- over here?" finished a familiar voice from the Poco's doorway. Carine and Will turned, delighted, and due to a wonderful coincidence that was not at all lacking in author creativity or fictional plausibility, Captain Jack Sparrow was leaning against the wall. He looked pleased with himself, and tipped his hat to Carine.

"I thought it only polite to let you mull it over for yourself, William," Jack said to Will's grin. He winked. "Best t' let you think it was your idea." All three laughed at that, then began to discuss the important matter of team-forming and far more importantly, the business of interesting chapter-making.

Somewhere outside the Poco, a seagull cried.


Merci beaucoup à:

LinLin and Sweetlilbee: sniffles what can I say? It's wonderful to have regular reviewers. I daresay my story has some fans. Thanks a million guys.