Author's Note: Revised on January 9, 2011!


Chapter X
The Crew

The moment Sam came into my line of view, I doubted it was really him: his ginger hair had darkened – darkened far too much for my liking. I squinted, blinking my eyes open and then shut again, testing them, begging them, to show me his carrot coloured locks springing up in every direction.

No, he wasn't changing.

His skin had been singed darker, a sun-sprayed tan covering his face, neck and arms, highlighting his friendly blue eyes to an extreme. I provided a quick, self-conscious glance to my own arms – as pale as always, the sores of sun burn just beginning to heal up. And his eyes! Oh! I'd never really bestowed much attention to his eyes – they were so bright now, so wide, so alert.

But Sam's new gained appearance was nothing. Nothing compared to what I saw, I can tell you that.

A woman, hair so red it couldn't be natural, grappled her long fingers around his torn, dirty shirt and forced him against the alley way, aggressively, conveying a gasp to dislodge itself from my lungs, and tangle itself tight in my throat. I covered my mouth to keep my yelp in – she was one of those women.

Men gave the women... business with them. The girls would sell their bodies for... sex, and the men would pay. Sam? Pay? Surely not. He was but a year my senior! How could he be willing to... Where would he have found the money to pay her?

Or was I completely misunderstanding? Were my eyes betraying me?

"I-I... can you... get off? Now? Please?" I heard my friend stammer. I suddenly felt a smile leap to my lips – she was just forcing herself upon him. Forcing herself? I shuddered at this mess I now found myself wedged into the middle of – sailing with a man most likely out of his mind, completely alone as my best and only friend was pursued by a prostitute... what could I do about it?

I thought about turning on my heals and continuing to follow Captain Sparrow and this elderly sailor, whom I had heard him call 'Mr. Gibbs' but I was frozen, glued to the spot. I wanted to call for Sam, but couldn't find the courage – what if this woman came for me? I had seen the perilous nature of Tortuga's inhabitants – who knew what she was capable of?

"Cat?" Sam, it was Sam! He'd spotted me. My lips twitched slightly as I saw him pull away, much to this woman's dismay, and stride quickly away as she huffed and grumbled to herself, fastening up the buttons of her tight gown which she had evidently undone at some point. Again, I cringed.

"Oh, God, Cat! Yer safe!" his voice trembled as he threw his arms tightly around me, embracing me close against his muscled torso. I cradled my arms around his waist, feeling, for the first time in three months, safe.

"I'm so sorry, Cat, I wish I'd known, I do! This place is dangerous – perilous – and I just led ya straight to it! I shoulda never... I... Cat, thank God you're alive," he rambled on and on, pulling me closer and closer. His words stung my eyes with salty, translucent tears. He was here. My best friend. Sam. He was here.

"I-I'm fine," I whispered against his grip, struggling to breathe, yet not saying a word of it. As his grasp eventually loosened I lowered my voice to a hoarse whisper; "who was she, Sam?"

I watched him shudder, glancing anxiously over his shoulder at the woman. "She said her name was Scarlett," he started, which I instantly found rather coincidental seeing as that was the very colour of her blinding red hair and dress. "She's... a prostitute, Cat. All of 'em here are. Damn, I wish I'd never brought ya here. It was stupid of me, I shoulda known about this bloody place. We need ta get outta here, Cat. My ship sailed off a few days back! It's been a nightmare stayin' here! Please tell me ya gotta way of escaping?"

I was reluctant to nod. Would Captain Sparrow mind? I really, really hoped not. I was close to finding out about my mother – too close to give in. I had already made up my mind. All there was to do now, was to hope I still had a place to stay aboard Jack's vessel.

"Y-yes," I responded. "I sailed here with Captain Jack Sparrow."

I'll admit, Reader, I was rather surprised when my friend's face dropped into a shocked expression. I countered Sam's shock with a confused glance, raising my eyebrow ever so slightly.

"Cat, you know that man is an infamous pirate captain, responsible for the death of Lord Cutler Beckett and practically every man sailing the Seven Seas is pursuing him?" the words gushed from Sam's lips into a slur of a sentence I almost couldn't make sense of. However, this information didn't really bother me the slightest.

Infamous pirate captain? Responsible for Lord Cutler Beckett's death? I snorted, hardly bothering to resist it.

It was hard to believe my mother would know a man such as that one. And possibly even harder to believe Captain Sparrow was a danger to my safety.

"He knew my mother, Sam," I whispered, quieter than intended. "I don't think I could care less if he was Fitzwilliam himself." Alright, maybe that was a slight twist of the truth. Although it seemed to get the effect I wanted – Sam stared at me, eyes as wide as can be, face so sympathetic I hardly believed it was my best friend looking over at me.

"Alright," he replied. "Alright, Cat, where do we find 'im?"

"Ahem!" a sudden exhale interrupted me just before I could speak. I froze, dead on the spot as I eyed Scarlett standing behind Sam with a snarl as vicious as an angry cat. She said nothing, merely pulling back her arm, swiping at his face and storming off.

I winced at the sharp sound of her slap, watching my friend clutch his burning red cheek in agony.

"Let's hurry on," he suggested, edging closer to me as I guided him straight to the Faithful Bride tavern.

I offered him a weak, encouraging smile whilst I pulled back the loose wooden door. Unsure of what I could say to him, I simply let the words flow from my lips; "you didn't deserve that."

x

The roars of the drunk accompanied by the screams and excited cries of the Faithful Bride inhibiters rung through Captain Jack Sparrow's ears as he slid a full tankard at his old friend, Joshaemee Gibbs with a wide, cheek-stretching grin. Oh, how he loved Tortuga.

Gibbs eyed his younger companion closely, his eyes – the shade of stonewashed denim – watching him closely, examining his every move. He knew Jack's unpredictability far too well: something was going to happen which would cause him to splutter out his rum and choke on the burning substance. What, he could only wonder, was this wily captain up to now?

"I'm in need of a crew, Master Gibbs," came Jack's first proposition, quickly. "I'm going after the Fountain of Youth... against Barbossa and the Pearl."

Under his dark eyebrows, Joshaemee's eyes widened to the size of coins in his sockets. "Jack..." he started, wracking his brains for a response to this revelation. "As long as ye have the charts Barbossa will be chasin' ye like a cat does a mouse. Workin' against him doesn't seem like the smartest move. With his help and the Pearl, the Youth will be easier to find."

"Ah, but I have a much more better way," Jack countered with a one-sided smile, golden molars glinting in the dim, musty air. As he eyed Catalina shudder at the open doorway, edging close behind a tall young boy who suddenly accompanied her, the captain pointed to the fretting, nervous child and grinned;

"That very girl just so happens to be the daughter of a certain Arabella Smith... savvy?"

Knowing precisely what Captain Sparrow was hinting at, Mr. Gibbs stared in silence. This plan had failure written all over it.

The elderly sailor sighed, watching his alcoholic liquid swill in his tankard. "'Tis a fool's errand, Jack. Things have happened to Miss Smith over the past fifteen years that ensured her sanity is not what it used to be. If she finds out ye used her to find the Fountain–"

"Which is exactly why she won't find out," input Jack, hastily.

Mr. Gibbs continued to shake his head, focussing his gaze on the indents marked into their circular table. "And it's bad luck to have women aboard – especially miniature ones," he superstitiously added.

The captain laughed, flailing out his arms offhandedly. Superstition was the one thing that could not bother him. Jack Sparrow made his own fate, no luck intended. "Mate, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy? Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?"

Deciding not to answer this, Master Gibbs brought his drink back to his lips and endured a long, hard sip.

"One last adventure, mate," Jack's best attempt to convince his old friend went completely out the window. "It's immortality we're dealing with. The price of it! Eternity is a long stretch before us, Master Gibbs. I for one will not be spending it..." he paused, taking in a slight gulp of air, "dead."

Watching this man's expression change, Captain Sparrow let a triumphant smile run over his lips. He had won.

"Dead forever seems an awful way to spend it," the sailor considered, stroking his chin in deliberation, Jack's close eyes scanning his every move. An eventual nod came, Mr. Gibbs's own smile beginning to shine over his thin lips. "I'll find us a crew, Jack. One can only hope there are still some sailors out there as mad as a hatter."

Jack's smirk extended. "To immortality," he toasted, holding out his rum towards Gibbs's own. However, knocking their tankards together, these two pirates indisputably had no idea what this journey would become...

"Um..."

For once, even Sam was lost for words.

I would have glanced around at the expressions of my companions – Jack, Gibbs and Sam – but my eyes were fixed straight and still on this apparent 'crew' of ours. I suppose I wasn't one to judge; a fifteen year old, ex-aristocratic young girl with anxiety problems, but, quite frankly, it appeared Tortuga had been swiped clean of all worthy sailors.

Captain Sparrow had been unhesitant to accept Sam into our crew, which saved me having to negotiate terms. I wasn't quite in the right place to launch into a long conversation with him quite yet – there was something about Jack that made me resist.

"It's not... much of a... crew," Sam said, slowly, peeking a glance at Mr. Gibbs, blatantly careful not to offend the old sailor.

Jack just smirked, completely confident and entirely sure this was his destined crew – a line up of boys clearly only a few years subsequent to Sam's age, some scrawny and some literally exhausted, and a few elderly men, clearly sea-worn, yet far too old to stand, let alone live on a ship.

"Nonsense, lad," the captain chirped, slapping Sam contentedly on the back, striding along his line-up. Mr. Gibbs was but a mere few steps behind, therefore I decided to follow too, knowing far too well my best friend would be quick on my heals.

"Though predominantly... dead-looking..." Jack paused at a crooked, withered old man with deep black circles swelling beneath his eyes and a stooped, hunched back, "you should know to never judge a book by its cover, aye, Mr. Gibbs?"

"Aye!" reported Gibbs, quickly. "All of 'em loyal and trustworthy, first-class hands behind the mast. Worth every shilling I 'ave, Cap'n."

I watched our captain's trademark grin widen across his lips, stretching out his cheeks ever so slightly. "Excellent!" he clapped together his hands, enthusiastically before speedily adding, "not that we're willing to pay. Voluntary service is all. The price of immortality is much more better."

A few excited mutters and murmurs breezed over the crowd. I looked up to Sam, eyebrow raised in utter confusion. He mirrored my expression with a shrug to accompany it. Immortality? What was Jack rambling on about? Had I missed something?

As his eyes caught those of a masculine young man, easily the most capable of the line-up, Captain Sparrow stepped forwards, staring into his face, features in perfect array. "You!" he called, eagerly.

"Aye, sir?"

"Calls himself Swig, Cap'n," Mr. Gibbs input, quickly. Yet again, I found myself glancing up into Sam's sun-darkened face, suppressing a grin when he mouthed the name 'Swig' with a scrunched, confused expression.

"Master Swig," began Jack, wording this utterly ridiculous name as if it were one in which you heard every day. "Do you have the capability and fervour to sail under the command of the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow and elude the situation of mutiny at all costs?"

This young man's dark grey eyes flickered with confusion in which I couldn't entirely blame. "I'll always stay true to my captain... Captain," he eventually replied with, his voice thick with an unexpected accent I recognised as Australian. For a supposed sailor, he was rather well spoken. Jack seemed to accept this as the correct answer, patting Swig hastily on the back before taking himself down the line and stopping before a slightly elderly sailor who had to be in his late fifties at the most. Alas, he still looked rather good for his age.

"You look familiar, do I owe you money?" our captain inquired with one raised eyebrow.

This man shook his head slightly with a small chuckle. "The years have done you good, Jack Sparrow. It's me," I watched closely as he removed his hat, allowing rough, greying hair to stick up on all ends beneath a red faded bandana rather like the man he faced. With baby blue eyes shining bright beneath weathered skin, it seemed I should recognise this man. But yet, I could not place his face in my memories.

"Mr. Reece?" Jack's voice exceeded a few octaves or so.

He nodded. "I suppose you're wondering what my story is, Jack?" he asked steadily, looking straight into Captain Sparrow's chocolate brown eyes confidently.

"Yes and no," Jack said. "Yes in the term I just so happen to be wondering if a certain disappearing ship came into your possession when Captain Laura so sorrowfully passed away and no, in the actuality if the before may in fact be the case, we don't have time to be chatting like bonnie lassies and should be sailing to the Fountain with full heart's content. Savvy?"

My fellow companions all seemed to trade baffled expressions, Sam and I included.

"Yes, I have La Fleur," Mr. Reece said in response. "I was actually hoping you wouldn't mind sailing on her... With the Pearl and—"

"Settled," interrupted Captain Sparrow. Casually, he flung his arm around Mr. Reece's shoulder, muttering almost out of earshot the two of them had a lot to catch up on.

I didn't know where to look. I wanted to know what was going on but – ha – who would tell me? I smiled at this with an insignificant shake of my head. Sam, his expression just as creased with confusion as my own, arched his eyebrows at my behaviour and chuckled slightly beneath his breath. Not knowing whether he was laughing with, or at, me, I merely continued to grin like an idiot.

"Alright," Captain Sparrow suddenly barked. "All hands on deck! Master Reece, lead the way!"

We both watched as the line-up marched on as ordered. Once Jack turned to me, his lips, once again, wore an all-too familiar smile; "Watch yer back, lass," he advised with a singular nod. I felt Sam edge closer, his arm brushing against mine. I half expecting him to say something along the lines of, 'don't worry, sir. Cat will be safe with me,' but he said nothing.

"Come on," he whispered eventually. "Let's go."

I did as obeyed, walking steadily behind the rest of the group, my best friend at my side. There was something baffling and, dare I say it, strange, going on here. And some time, I would have to pluck up the courage to ask Captain Sparrow about it.

Some day...


Author's Note: Next chapter will introduce a certain someone I'm rather quite fond of! I'll look forward to inflicted him upon the world of Fanfiction ;)