Okay, well so all of you know, the original version of this story was MUCH different. I only changed it after seeing POTC3 on May 24th. I really changed the basis of this chapter, especially after discovering about Captain Chevalle. I rewrote this chapter at least twice, and I'm relatively proud about how this came out. Remember, folks, this story takes place a year, year and a half before CotBP. Right now, it's been several months since Michelle's arrival, so things are different. The reason behind the mentioning of the Kraken will be obvious if you remember stuff from DMC.

Ch. 6

"Take the helm, Michelle!" Anita snapped, jumping over the railing, causing Michelle to take a firm hold of the wheel, holding it back. Since arriving she had had some practice at the helm, but not enough to steady the ship during a storm. Anita had jumped down to the main deck to held secure cannons and lifelines. It never occurred to Michelle how Davy Jones had let not just one girl, but two, on to the Flying Dutchman.

Her hands wrapped tighter around the grips of the helm and tried to steady the wheel.

"Take it easy, girl!" she heard Bootstrap shout from behind, as he grasped the wheel for her instead, relieving her of the duty.

It had been a good six to eight months. Michelle had discovered the ways of sailing, not piracy, but she knew how to work on deck. She had evolved quickly from a prestigious noblewoman with a shy and timid disposition, to a girl, with a shorter temper, and arrogant persona. She had always had a wild side to her at home and covered it with her nobility, but now, she let all care go to the wind, and decided if she could be herself anywhere, the Flying Dutchman was the place.

By most, she had been accepted as a sort of temporary crew member, and had avoided getting all the aquatic attributes the other members had. She ignored Bootstrap's warnings. He was a man she could trust, but she couldn't just abandon the ship, and leave her father to face the consequences. There was finally someone on this god forsaken ship she could talk to if necessary, and that was in fact, Bootstrap Bill. Something about him, reminded her of one of her brothers. Her oldest brother could have been Bootstrap's age, but she knew full well that her oldest brother was obviously not named William Turner. But the man gave off that kind of brotherly feeling.

Anita however, still had a grudge against Michelle, and she knew full well what it was. If Michelle's father really was the Pirate Lord Chevalle, then he really was enemies with the Pirate Lord Villanueva, but it was a simple feud, and naturally drew the French and Spanish pirates apart…At least, that was what she had heard.

But above all, Michelle had discovered that an impression wasn't left on her, as much as one was left on Davy Jones.

"Why doesn't the Captain give the order to go under!" Michelle shouted to Bootstrap over the clapping of thunder.

"You're on board!" he replied loudly, "We can't risk going under while you're on! You'd die before we resurfaced!"

"I've been on when he's went under before, Bootstrap!" she shouted, her French accent having deteriorated quite a bit, and her English having had improved.

There was the sound of a large door swinging open, and out on to the deck, came the Captain. He climbed up the set of crooked stairs to the helm and stood near Michelle, giving Bootstrap the kind of look that seemed to announce to him to relinquish control of the wheel to him.

"Yes?" Michelle asked softly, as Bootstrap walked off, and the Captain took the wheel with ease.

"Yeh make me curious." He said nonchalantly. "Jus' 'bout how ye've changed. Ye came upon my ship as a quiet girl, who was just lookin' fer a decent man, so ye said." He turned the wheel a bit. "An' now, yer turnin' pirate." Jones laughed. "I told ye, ye would."

Michelle rolled her eyes as rain began to pelt down on the ship, soaking her hair quickly. "It's just because I've had to spend so much time here. It was change or fall behind."

"Either way," Jones continued. "Yer makin' a good pirate." Michelle stared at him from the corner of her eye.

"I'm not turning pirate." She snorted. "I'm surviving." Jones chuckled, having heard many a sailor say the same thing.

"Most pirates say that just before they turn." He replied, proving a point. "Ye'll be a pirate before long."

"Will you stop that?" she asked. "I've had enough of everyone assuming that I'm turning into a pirate."

"But you are!" came the screaming from Anita below. "You're a bloody pirate, and a damn poor one at that! Damn Frenchie!" Yet another sign of proof that the French and Spanish pirates did not get along.

"Bloody Spaniard!" Michelle snapped back. At home, she never would have fought someone of another ethnicity. She had her hand placed on her sword.

"You want to fight over it then?" Anita growled, releasing the rope she had been holding, reaching to her side.

Michelle was about to slide her sword from its scabbard, but Jones put his clawed hand before her, holding her back, declaring to Anita that she should return to work. A clever grin slid upon the man's face as he turned to Michelle, and cockily replied: "Yer a pirate."

Pirate she may have been becoming, but all piracy aside, and all alliances with the most feared ship upon the seas, there was something that was supposedly more frightening. A creature of myths so she had heard, a creature, that by rumor, could suction a man's face off, leaving it as a lumpy, mound of flesh. With a breath with a stench of all the dead of the world, and the power of all the sea storms combined, it was a feared, and practically cursed creature. The Kraken.

And not until now, did she know how it was controlled. Most had either thought it was the pet of a sea goddess, or was just a freakishly deformed octopus which had gone mad, and attacked ships randomly. She had to be the only non-pirate to know how it was controlled.

It was by Jones' will. There was a crank in the center of the deck of the Flying Dutchman which had a crude carving of an octopus on its top. This crank would awaken the Kraken, and summon it to do Jones' bidding. The men of the crew would turn the crank until is rose several feet into the air, and then, it would fall, crashing down, with a thunderous bang. And within moments, the creature would arrive towards a target ship, wrap its enormous tentacles around it, and drag the ship down to the depths.

The Dutchman came side to side with a ship of foreign colors. The French colors…but it was definitely not the French flag. Jones stood at the center of the deck, at the railing, as to see who would arrive.

"Captain?" Michelle asked, wringing out the sleeve of her shirt. "What is it?" He silenced her, as a man walked to the center of the French ship.

"Davy Jones!" the man shouted across the ships. "I 'ave come wis a proposal." He had a sharply pristine pirates hat on, with a few lush feathers protruding from the corner, and for a pirate, he was surprisingly well dressed, and his face was rather clean. He stood tall, with a prestigious, governmental, powdered wig, and a neatly trimmed mustache.

Michelle froze, and she started away from Jones. "Father!" she shouted, knowing without a doubt it was her father. "Papa! C'est moi! Je suis ici!" She waved her arms around at him, but before the pirate could respond, Jones pushed her aside.

"What is it that ye propose, Captain Chevalle?" Jones asked, pushing Michelle to Maccus, the man who had a shark's head. "An' are ye sure I'd be willin' ta accept it?"

"Oui, you should be willing to accept it." He answered. "All I ask iz pour vous to return my daughter back to me."

"Why would ye want 'er back now, after tradin' her ta me?" Jones growled. "She's part o' my crew now, Chevalle."

"Only somezing I know you to be a zympathizer of." Chevalle replied. "Zere iz a marriage proposal waiting for her back at our home."

Michelle yanked away from Maccus. "Father!" she cried. "Y-you're not really a pirate, are you?"

Chevalle laughed at her. "What do you say, Jones?" he asked. "Allow me to 'ave my daughter back. Let her get married, 'ave a few grandchildren for me, zen you can take her back."

Michelle scoffed at her father. Jones smiled at her, and said "I told ye he was a pirate. What normal man would trade his daughter fer ten more years of life."

Michelle, began to climb over the railing, planning to dive off and swim over to her father's ship. No matter what she heard about her father, she refused to believe she was a bad man. Jones however, grabbed her by the collar of the shirt and yanked her back.

"She's part o' my crew now, Chevalle!" Jones shouted, as Michelle began to fight him, trying to get free.

"She iz?" Chevalle asked. "How so? I do not see any sea creatures growing on 'er body, like ze rest of your crew."

"She's mine until ye give me what I want!" he roared. "An' ye and the rest o' those blasted Pirate Lords know what I want!"

"Zen do it yourself." Chevalle laughed, the men of his crew laughing with him. "You bound her, you should be able to do it alone. Holding my daughter as ransom will not convince me to summon the Brethren Court to answer your call."

Michelle was appalled at her father's words. "Very well then, Chevalle!" Jones added to the speaking, as he yanked Michelle to his side, and holding a sword to her neck. "Then I'll just have to kill th' girl!"

Michelle gasped, and looked up at the Captain from the corner of her eyes, pleading almost, to not kill her.

"No!" Chevalle shouted. "Do not kill my daughter!" Men around Chevalle began to point guns at the Dutchman. He shouted something in French, pointing at the ship, seeming to demand to return Michelle.

Jones quickly turned Michelle around, looking at her partially sympathetically, and partially hatefully. He grabbed one of her hands, and held it out in front of him, and ran his more human hand over her palm, until a lumpish, black blotch appeared on her. "Go." He hissed. "But I will get you back."

He smacked her across the chest knocking her over the railing, and causing her to collide with the sea. A splash rose into the air, as someone from Chevalle's crew dove over to retrieve her.

Michelle coughed as she regained her composure, swimming choppily in the sea as the man, possibly her father's first-mate, reached hold of her waist. She stared up at the Flying Dutchman, as it began speeding up, and with a magnificent splash, was underneath the sea.