Disclaimer: I don't own POTC, I don't make any money, although I might make more if I went back to work instead of writing stories. This story was inspired by, but is in no way the fault of, the Haitian folktale "Wings on Her Feet," as told by Adam Price and found at . I don't own Haiti either.

Wings on Her Feet

The crab and the donkey weren't her fault. It's not like she planned on them at all. But sometimes opportunity doesn't knock on the door. Sometimes it kicks the door down.

Tying all the dresses in the laundry together end-to-end had been Anamaria's fault. She definitely started mud fight with the boys from town. It was her idea to play at being pirates, until she hit Zullie too hard with the stick she was using as a sword, and the girls refused to play anymore. Running off to sneak onto the fishing boats (which almost guaranteed her a day of freedom before being returned to the charity school) was something she did on a regular basis, in spite of the nuns' best efforts to keep her inside. And everyone was sure Anamaria was responsible for the toads falling out of the rafters in the chapel, even if no one saw her do it. None of the other girls could climb up there.

Anamaria hated the charity school. She hated sitting in the hot rooms, wearing the heavy black dresses made from donations of cheap cloth, painfully tracing letters on her slate. She hated the tedious chores, cooking and cleaning, watering and weeding the back garden. She hated the crowded, smelly room where she and fourteen other girls slept each night. But most of all, she hated Saturday mornings.

Every Friday night, the sisters who ran the charity school and their fourteen adolescent charges would gather up little bundles of the spices they grew in the garden—thyme and anise, cinnamon and cloves and oregano. They would sew rough canvas sacks to fill with mangoes, cassava, avocados and coconuts. Sometimes they would even have a sack of sugar or rice from the mission fields.

Anamaria would sit and sew the heavy canvas or sort herbs with Nan Pye, the plump English orphan with big brown eyes and a sweet smile. Nan thought Anamaria was wonderful, with her regal face and elegant slenderness. Anamaria was brave and always up to some kind of mischief. Nan was always obedient and good, which drove Anamaria insane. If Anamaria thought the nun looking after them wasn't watching, she would jab Nan with the steel needle and make her jump or cry. If Sister Evangeline saw her poke Nan, she would have to ask forgiveness and say 'Hail Mary' on her knees in the corner, as many times as Sister Evangeline saw fit. But if Sister Evangeline didn't see her, Anamaria was never punished for it, because Nan was much too kind to tattle on her friend. She would only look at Anamaria reproachfully, with tears in her large dark eyes.

On Saturday morning, the sacks and spices were ready to go to market, and this is what Anamaria hated the most. In theory the girls took turns hauling the heavy sacks into town, to sell to passer-by, but in practice Anamaria was sent more than anyone else. Anamaria always got the best price for their wares, because most of the townspeople were a little afraid of her. Bartering was something the townspeople did to entertain themselves, but Anamaria didn't bargain—she named her price and glared until the cowed farmer stammered and accepted, or she shouted at the fishwives like, well, like a fishwife.

This particular Saturday, Anamaria and Nan set out together along the dirt path to the village, carrying the heavy sacks. Nan had the heaviest sacks, of course, because Anamaria had explained to her that she was bigger and stronger and so should do more of the work. Nan saw that this was fair, and trudged along patiently with her burden. Anamaria walked very fast, because she wanted to finish selling the wares as quickly as possible so that they would have time to go down to the dock or around the craftsmen without Sister Evangeline sending them to bed without supper for tardiness. She snapped and grumbled at Nan for being slow and Nan ducked her head and tried to speed her steps. With an, "Oof!" however, she ran right into Anamaria, who had stopped dead in the road.

Grazing by the road was a small grey donkey, with a broken rope halter around his head. There were ropes around his belly, too, with a few torn sacks still tied in place. Anamaria's eyes shone with glee, and ignoring Nan she stepped forward to grab the frayed end of the halter. The donkey twitched an ear in Anamaria's direction and went on eating grass as Anamaria set her bags on his back.

"Ana, what are you doing?" Nan asked, with her forehead wrinkled and worry in her beautiful eyes. "It's not our donkey..."

"So what? We're going to do its owner a favor and bring it back to town, right? We shouldn't just leave it here. Why shouldn't it give us a ride while we're at it?" Anamaria pulled Nan over to the donkey and clumsily tried to wrap the remaining ropes around the ends of their sacks. Nan, not entirely convinced they were doing the right thing, held the halter and gently stroked the donkey's nose. Once Anamaria had the sacks settled to her satisfaction, she took the halter rope from Nan and led the donkey over to a large rock.

"Oh, no, Anamaria, he's already carrying enough! He shouldn't have to carry you, as well," Nan pleaded as Anamaria swung herself awkwardly onto the donkey's back. Anamaria snorted at Nan's tender heart and insisted that she ride in front. With some effort, and resistance from both the donkey and Nan, everyone was finally in place. Anamaria gave the donkey a sharp kick with both heels and they moved off, down the green hill toward the village at the edge of the blue sea.

Anamaria didn't know it, but the sacks the donkey had when they found him weren't quite empty. One had been filled with live crabs the donkey's owner was bringing home from the docks, and one of the crabs hadn't fallen out. In fact, it had only managed to work one claw out through a rip in the seam of the bag, when Anamaria had put their heavy, full sacks on top of it, and now it was trapped with one claw waving helplessly near Anamaria's ankle.

The two girls in their plain black dresses with their hair in neat braids down their backs bounced along uncomfortably and the donkey hauled them and their load of food to sell at market. The sun was getting higher and higher in the sky. They had spent a long time putting everything on the donkey, and under its load the donkey wasn't making any better speed than they had walking. "Come on, donkey, faster!" shouted Anamaria, "let's go!" and she kicked the poor beast again with both bare feet.

But when she kicked her heels, the crab trapped in the sack on the donkey's back caught her ankle with its sharp claw and pinched, hard.

"Ow. I must have hurt my foot, getting you on," Anamaria grumbled at Nan.

They continued along the dusty road, and each time Anamaria tried to kick the donkey into going faster, the crab would pinch her ankle, making her yelp, and pulling itself bit by bit further from the sack. Nan, who was a very nice girl, didn't want her friend to be hurt, but was glad Anamaria couldn't make the donkey go so fast, when he was carrying such a heavy load.

The morning was well advanced when the donkey, the two girls, and the crab finally came down the hill into the little fishing village. All along the main road (actually, the only road) were the market stalls, already filled with local people, fishmongers and fruit sellers. The stall the charity school usually sold from already had someone in it, measuring out sugar. Anamaria screeched with frustration and drummed her heels on the donkey's belly. This jolted the crab still further from its sack, and it dug its claw firmly into the donkey's side.

The donkey had had enough. With a loud bray, he lashed out with his hind legs, catching the fruit seller's stall squarely with his hooves and sending bananas and pineapples flying. Then he bolted, Anamaria and Nan hanging on desperately to each other and the halter as he careened through the street, scattering sugar and rice across the ground, with small children squealing and laughing as they ran from his path, and market vendors cursing. Several fishermen ran to block the donkey's path as he neared the end of the street, waving their hands and shouting. Spooked, the donkey lowered his head and began to kick and buck, so that Nan tumbled right down his neck to the ground, skirt and hair flying. Anamaria grabbed his mane and squeezed her lanky legs tight around his body, her teeth snapping together and her body jolting from side to side.

Just then, a further complication arrived in the form of a large young man whose face was beet-red from anger, yelling at the top of his lungs. Anamaria was too busy to pay any attention to him, but Nan, who was trying to crawl out from under the donkey, pushed the hair that had come loose from her braid out of her eyes so she could see him and then whimpered a little. It was Mr. Touloulou, who owned all the land behind the charity school. He had four men accompanying him and was roaring out something about a stolen donkey...Nan shut her eyes and her chin started to wobble.

Mr. Touloulou's men ran forward to grab at the donkey's halter, slipping on squashed bananas as they went. The fruit seller, realizing that a wealthy man was responsible for the donkey, began pulling at Mr. Touloulou's arm and loudly calling for reimbursement for his ruined goods. The crowd shouted and laughed, some cheering the men on as they tried to control the donkey and some cheering the donkey. Nan stood at the edge of the crowd, biting her lip and brushing away tears. And Anamaria lost her balance and slid to the ground, landing with her skirt twisted, her legs splayed, and a live crab on her lap.

The donkey took this opportunity to run through a gap in the crowd, strewing what was left of his load over the street, leading four men on a wild chase out of the village and out of this story.

Brushing the fruit seller aside, Mr. Touloulou strode forward and yanked Anamaria to her feet. "I'll see you hang, thief!" he shouted, jabbing his finger at her chest. Anamaria did the only thing she could think of at the moment, and shoved the irate crab into his face. A crab fastening itself securely to your nose is enough to distract even an enraged donkey owner. Mr. Touloulou let go of Anamaria and clutched at the crustacean hanging from his face, and Anamaria, like the donkey, took to her heels.

She knew every corner of the village, but unfortunately there just wasn't that much of it. Turning along the beach, Anamaria ran past surprised fishermen and heard them shout cheerful insults and encouragement at her. Helpful villagers chased after her and she could still hear Mr. Touloulou in the market area roaring out, "Thief, thief!"

Near the dock was a funny little boat with a square sail, that had tied up to take on fresh food and water earlier that day. The stranger sailing it, a thin man dressed in dirty breeches and a ragged shirt with skin blacker than Anamaria had ever seen, had been getting ready to make way and was drifting a few feet out, watching the fun. He flashed a white grin at Anamaria as she stumbled to a halt wondering what to do next. Her lips pressed together with determination, Anamaria ran to onto the wet planks of the dock and jumped lightly down into the rocking boat. "Go on, go!" she shrieked, and the startled sailor burst into laughter and pulled the rudder handle to one side until the sail filled with wind. The little boat moved out merrily onto the waves of the open sea while the villagers pointed and shouted from the beach.

Back in the marketplace, Mr. Touloulou, now crab-free, had finally noticed Nan crying in the street, and laying his hands roughly on her shoulders, he shook her and demanded that she tell him why she and the other girl and stolen his donkey and did she know what happened to thieves? Nan looked up at him and sobbed out the whole story. Mr. Touloulou, had a prickly temper and shouted many things he didn't mean; but at heart he was a good man, and his hands grew gentler on the miserable girl's shoulders as he saw the sincerity in her lovely eyes. He escorted her himself back to the charity school, and reassured her that she would come to no harm. In fact, he took it on himself to visit her several times more, to make sure she was alright. When he was with Nan he was very careful not to shout or get too angry and upset her, and so Nan had a good effect on him. As you might have guessed, they eventually married and had fat, cheerful babies, loved each other the rest of their days, and had the kind of relationship that is extremely satisfying to those involved but rather boring to tell other people about—in short, they lived Happily Ever After.

Anamaria, on the other hand, found herself in the Jolly Mon on the way to Tortuga. This contented her entirely, as she had always thought she would make a good pirate, and Tortuga was definitely the place to for a pirate to be. The sailor was happy to show her how to trim the sail and steer the boat, at least until she slapped him. After that he sulked for most of the trip. Anamaria made up her mind that if she had a chance, she'd steal the boat from him.

After all, every pirate has to start somewhere.