Chapter One: Festerin' Dish Rags and Effeminate Men

"Anne!"

"Wo-aah!" Anne screamed. Will stepped in front of her, holding her maid's bonnet.

"Will!" she scolded, but smiled and embraced him, as always. "Don't do that. You're lucky Governor Swann didn't see you." She snatched her bonnet back and began to stuff her wiry brown-blond hair into it. She picked up her polishing rag and returned to the silver.

"So, you've come to give 'em Norrington's sword, eh?" she asked.

"That's right," Will answered, then, looking over his shoulder asked, "Is Miss Swann awake, then?"

"Aye, she's just getting ready. Her father bought her a dress with a corset, poor dear. I helped wrap it myself."

Will had no idea what a corset was, nor the want to inquire over it, as he considered it a personal issue of Elizabeth and the maids. Anne turned slowly, a silver butter knife in her hand.

"You know, Will, Captain Norrington seeks her hand," she said quietly. Will's head alerted with the ferocity of a storm.

"Does he?"

"Aye, so you better get along with it," she said, winning a quizzical look from Will. Anne continued, "Will, I'm your best friend, as well as you surrogate sister; you can't hide nothin' from me. I've noticed the way you eye her and what happens to your face when I mention her. So don't try that false innocence with me, 'cause it won't work, Brother."

"Is it that obvious?" Will asked sheepishly.

"Sickeningly so," she replied mercilessly. "However," she continued, "there is a way to solve this problem."

"What's that?"

"Bloody-well-tell-her-you-love-her!"

Though it would surprise most to hear such a forceful voice come from the petite seventeen year-old, it did not surprise Will; he was accustomed to it.

"Now go stand in that foyer and wait for her. If you don't, I'll have to push you. Now, get on with you, Will. But first, let me take a look at that sword."

************

Anne dusted the furniture of the front room without paying much attention to it. She listened to the conversation in the foyer, from which the front room branch off.

"Oh, Will, how many times shall I ask you to call me 'Elizabeth?'" implored the damsel herself.

*Alright , Will, here's you r chance.* Anne thought.

"At least once more, Miss Swann."

*Oh my God, Will, you're pathetic! Blast it!*

Anne dusted the chair vigourously enough to destroy the upholstery.

*Idiot, idiot, IDIOT!*

She could just picture Mrs. Murdstone, the houskeeper, shaking her forefinger at Anne as she told her to watch that temper of hers. Anne vividly imagined the woman's disgusting hairy lips pursing at her. She wiped the image from her mind and went to talk with Will, who was standing forlornly at the door.

"Well, that didn't go very well did it? You corpsed up right bad," she told him.

"Yes," he agreed, his mind off someplace else.

Anne took account of this and continued, "But, uuh, if you're real desperate, Mrs. Murdstone might be available before afternoon tea." Anne was only teasing, and usually she would be in fits of snickers by this time, but somehow she managed to keep a straight face. Needless to say, this awoke Will from his musings straightaway. He lifted her up and carried her over to a washbasin, with her giggling and squirming.

He set her down and laughed, "Wash out that little mouth of yours," gave her a short kiss on her cheek, then turned to go.

"This ain't over yet William Michael Turner, you and me at noon o'clock over a pig slop luncheon! You'll pay, I swear it on my festerin' dish rag!" she called after him.

He turned and gave a quick wave then headed back for the smithy, smiling the whole way.

************

At noon, Anne quietly left the governor's household and made her way to the pier. She sat on a bulkhead between the fishing docks and the civilian docks when she arrived, her bare toes scarcely touching the water. Anne fingered her shoelaces beside her as she watched the incoming boats and ships. She was waiting for Will; they were supposed to go to lunch together, as they did once a month since she began to work in the governors house, four years ago, when their father died and the shop went under.

Anne sullenly gazed at the rippling water when one boat in particular got her full attention. A strange-looking man stood atop the boat's single mast, the wind blustering in his braided black hair. He had black lines around his eyes, too many belts with weapons attached to them, and all sorts of astonishing clothes on, such as a worn out hat and a pink head scarf. He was rather comical. What made him uproariously comical was the fact that only about half his mast was visible above the water. Anne laughed gently to herself as he stepped onto the dock and strode down it rather effeminately. Anne watched speculatively, wondering who this curious creature was. She saw him converse briefly with the clerk, after he'd dropped a few coins on his book, then raise his hands as if in prayer, bow his head and turn away. The strange fellow, when he came to a post, picked up the coin purse that lay there. Anne was outraged, but before she could protest, to him, his thievery, she felt a tap on her right shoulder. She turned to Will; he had at last arrived.

"Hello, ready for luncheon?"

"Absolutely," Anne answered before stealing another peek at the stranger. He was gone. Anne squinted her eyes, just to see if she'd missed him somehow. She hadn't.

"Anne?"

"Yes, let's go." She dashed off to the Painted Lady, the best tavern in Port Royale.