Author's Note: I'd like to dedicate this chapter to a few people: to Audra, for being my Beta reader, whether she likes it or not. She did not share the pizza with me...but still listened to my rantings about this crazy story. To Katie; who was kind enough to dedicate a chapter to me, so I am returning the favor - you're a sweet one, love. And finally, to mom...who is always a willing listener, and who's writing is much better than mine, but won't admit to it.

Authors Note #2: I have no idea when Liz or Will come into this story. Chances are, they won't. And if they do, it will be a brief cameo. This story is about Jack-aroo. So...if that doesn't float your boat, jet now. :)

Shore to Ship

"Must you toss that about?!" he cried, watching the pirates carelessly throw his bags into the cargo hold. "Be careful!" he shouted at Gibbs, who was lugging his wooden trunk across the deck. "There are things in there worth more than you'll ever pillage!"

Jack smirked. "I think introductions are in order, nay? We have not yet heard your name, mate."

"Of course not," he replied, smiling. "I have not said it."

There were annoyed grunts from the crew.

"My name," he stated proudly, "Is Cornelius Ward."

"Well, Mister Ward, this is my ship," Jack proclaimed, walking over and taking his place beside his gathered crew, allowing Anna Maria to take the helm. "And this is my crew. We do things the way we want to. And if ya' don't like it, we can always toss ya' overboard...savvy?"

The Englishman turned an immediate shade of white. He stumbled backwards and allowed the men to continue loading his bags in with the other luggage.

Jack then took the opportunity to take in Cornelius' measure. He was diminutive man, short, thin, and displayed extremely feminine characteristics. Jack guessed he was probably a eunuch. His wig was far too big for his head, and therefore he was constantly adjusting it in hopes to better the fit. He was also the master of an ornate sword, which Jack assumed was to make up for other areas in which he was...less endowed.

"Is there anyway to stop all of this rocking?!" Cornelius inquired in a shrill tone. "It's making me rather ill."

Gibbs groaned. "Land lovers..."

The hatch to the forecastle then flew open, and Jack moved in quickly to help Patrice onto the deck.

"I do not look to be served by the captain of this ship," she stated, ignoring his outstretched hand and hoisting herself up.

"Nor would you be. I was reaching for my ring and my compass," he jested.

Patrice smirked and reached into the bodice of her simple dress. The crew whistled proactively as she handed back both of his items.

"And who might you be, fine lady?" Cornelius drawled, squeezing his way in between them. He took Patrice's hand and politely kissed it, his wig shifting slightly on top of his head.

"Another passenger, like yourself," she replied, drawing her hand back. "Have you a name?"

"Cornelius Ward."

"A member of the British expedition group no doubt. You're looking rather pale, Mister Ward. Are you all right? "

"Just getting used to the boat...," he explained. "And you? What is your purpose?"

"That, Mister Ward, will be revealed in all due time. For now I am merely a passenger, and you may call me Miss St. Clair," she retorted before brushing past him.

Cornelius' stood silent for a moment before spewing, "I think I'm going to be sick!" and rushed to the side of the boat.

In the evening, Jack wondered down into the crew's quarters. He meandered to find Patrice, who had already fallen asleep, a book lying open on her stomach. He stooped down and looked at her, watching as she drew in quiet breaths through her slightly parted lips. He thought for a moment that she almost looked beautiful.

Careful as not to disturb her, he reached for the book, hoping to catch a glimpse at whatever she was reading. But Patrice was wakened by his sudden movement, and sprang up, pulling a silver dagger from under her pillow.

"Easy love," Jack cooed.

"Is it a pirate custom, Captain Sparrow, to sneak up on women whilst they're sleeping?" she sounded generally irritated.

"Only the pretty ones," he winked.

She sat up and returned the knife to it's hiding place. "Is there something you wanted?"

"I've come to fetch ya' to a crew meetin'..."

She cocked her eyebrow. "I didn't realize I was a member of the crew now. Shall I swab the decks next, Captain?"

"I was hoping ya' might want to listen in."

She shook her head and adjusted her white cotton nightgown. "Not tonight, Captain Sparrow...I'm far too tired. Perhaps tomorrow, we can have a meeting of our own."

Jack nodded. He pulled the book from Patrice's hands and looked it over. "Why do you bothering reading this nonsense?"

She snatched it back, offended. "It's far from nonsense. Almost everything I know in the world, I owe to books."

"And pick-pocketing? Did you learn that from a book, eh?"

"No, actually, I learned that from a pirate."

Jack sat down beside her and started flipping through the pages of poetry. "Do tell..."

"When I was a little girl, my mother and I were living in a room that overlooked the main courtyard in Lucia. Although my mother refused to allow to me to attend executions in public, I was a captive audience from our window. One day, I watched as a pirate spread through the crowd, taking purses and jewelry from the eager spectators, none of them the wiser of what had been stolen. I made up my mind then, that I wasn't going to sell my body, like my mother, and so many other women of this age, but instead steal to earn my way."

Jack was quiet. She was a natural pirate. "Is that story true?"

Patrice batted her eyelashes, playfully. "No. It's just something I made up to get you to leave."

Jack snickered and stood up. "I'll be off then."

She watched as he began to walk away. "It was nice of you to drop in, Captain! I hope you drop in again some time!"

He waved his hand and turned the corner, leaving Patrice alone in the forecastle, save for a snoring Cornelius. She laid back onto her pillow, listening to the ship creak as it moved through the waves.

She found herself strangely drawn to Jack. And although she wished to admit it was not in a romantic way, she was beginning to feel a sort of attachment to him. Perhaps that was why she had opted to accompany him in the first place.

Patrice had overheard that he had been hired by and expeditionary to seek the Treasure of Alba. It was only after a night of self-convincing that she had offered him her help. True, she knew where the map was hidden, but she often doubted whether or not she could trust a pirate to secure that knowledge. Deep down, however, she wanted to help him, for the simple fact that he had remembered her face well-enough to come after her. She found that to be rather flattering.

She sighed, dropping her book to the floor. She knew, all too well, what exactly the crew was discussing. What to do with her once she disclosed the location of the map. She shut her eyes, thinking hard. She couldn't tell Jack yet. It was too much of a risk. If she told him, he might kill her anyway, regardless of the fact that she was the only one who could decipher its directions. There was also the matter of the Englishman. Her intuitions told her that he wasn't as delicate as he seemed.

She decided then that she would instruct Jack to continue sailing south east. When they reached Barbados, she vowed to tell him, as much as it pained her, just where exactly the map was hidden. And it was in the most unlikely of places.