Hey there peoples! My first version of the story made no sense, so I decided to edit it! Anyways, most of the characters names are from books I've read, and I kind of nicked some things out of POTC(which I most defiantly don't own) anyways it isn't likely that any of the stuff in my story could have happened, but enjoy reading it. Now without further ado, I present:

Death before Dishonour:

Port Royal, 1722

Chapter 1, Amaranta

I jump, jolted out of my day dream. I though I heard voices coming from behind me, but as I turn around I don't see anyone. I'm sitting on the edge of a cliff that overlooks the sea. The wind is strong and cold, its blowing my hair right across my face, making it hard for me to see. Several hours ago, was my 16th birthday party. All of Port Royals rich and famous were there. I spent the whole time dancing and eating pastries. But now, I sat here, gazing at the ocean. I often came here to escape my life as the governors daughter. The few precious hours that I could get away for meant a lot to me. I've lived in Port Royal for as long as I can remember, and I can't imagine life anywhere else. My fathers been the governor since before I was born, and Mrs Andrews, who will always be Mrs Andrews to me, for I will never call her 'mother' has been his wife ever since my mother died. She supposedly looks after me and my brothers Fred and Bart. Father has already decided their futures for them. But father has never even considered me. For I'm just a girl. Just part of the furniture, there to be dressed up and put on display.

I swear I heard voices muttering secretly. But it is easy to start imagining things when you're alone. I rest me hand on the jewel encrusted sword I stole from father, and creep down the cliff. The sword keeps on catching on my skirts, so I stop to adjust it. I stop and watch the sun go down in the west. Nothing out of the ordinary. Its casts a shadow on the ships, making them look ablaze. From where I stand, I can see the beacons and watch towers that line the shores. We keep watch for a very real danger. It is 2 years since we were attacked by pirates, who creep round the bay in their ships. Now its summer once more, the invasion season, and watch must be kept. The sounds aren't repeated again. I suppose I'm just jumpy for nothing. I decide to stay a bit longer to watch the tide coming in up the bay. The wind wraps my skirts around my legs and bits of debris fly into my eyes. I push my auburn hair under my hat, and glance south, where my fathers towering mansion rises up of the shrubbery. Mrs Andrews got father to build it 3 years ago. He says it's too big and that we rattle about in it like peas. But secretly, he's pleased with it. I stand up and make a last check for anything that is not normal. There's nothing. Just the sounds of the night and the screeching of seagulls above the tide line. I collect my parasol from under the rock, and set of down hill, leaving the sea behind.

Below, my home comes into view, it's a large limestone fortress. I make my way down hill, humming a song that Fred taught me.

Behind me, in the darkening forest, cicadas burst into song. As I walk into the courtyard, I pass James, our gardener trimming some roses. He calls out,

"Evening mistress Amaranta!" and grins. I wave back. "'Tis a good evening for pirates!" he calls after me. I sigh and ring the door bell. Some how, I'm not in the mood for James's wit tonight. Moments later, the door is opened by one of the footmen who nods and takes my hat. Candle smoke hangs heavy in the gloom. I freeze. I can hear the clinking of knives and forks. I'm late for dinner again. It isn't the first time, and Mrs Andrews will box my ears again. I suddenly feel faint. I need some air, the candle smoke is too suffocating after the wind on the cliff, and my corset is suffocating me. I set off of, up the spiral stair case, trying not to make a sound. But Mrs Andrews meets me half way up.

"Amaranta Abberline! Where in heavens name were you? I am sick of you coming and going as you please! Its time that somebody put a stop to it." She leans on the banister and glares at me. She is hardly any taller than me, her hair is brown, and her piercing blue eyes see through me.

"I'm afraid I lost track of time Mrs Andrews. Where's father?"

"He's out on business tonight." She gestures to the door. Faintly I can hear Fred playing his violin upstairs. Its one of those sentimental tunes that father adores. Mrs Andrews lectures me a bit longer, and finally goes downstairs. I continue climbing the stair case until I reach the balcony. I stand there for a while, watching the stars begin to appear. I inhale deep breaths of the air. Up here it is fresh and smells of the ocean.

Sussan the maid comes to joins me. "Good evening Sussan."

"Evening Miss."

I lean my elbows on the railing and let the wind mess up my hair. I look intently at the nearest watch tower. I'm silent for a while.

"The Misses is having a gambling party tonight, Miss."

"Oh. That would explain why she was more dressed up than usual." Mrs Andrews isn't a great gambler, but money dose tend to stick to her fingers like molasses.

Back downstairs, in the dining room, Fred and Bart have joined me for tea.

Tonight it's just the 3 of us. The fire is crackling in the heath, and casts shadows around the room. Fred gets up and strikes up a tune on his violin and I begin to sing. After a while I sit back down. There is something strange in the air tonight.

Later in my room, 3 floors up, I sit in front of my mirror and watch Sussan brush the knots out of my hair. When she finishes, I stride up to the window and take a last look outside. I hear a horse canter up the drive way. I listen for father's voice, but don't hear it. So I climb into bed, I ask Sussan to leave the bed curtains open tonight. Somehow, I don't want to be closed out from the world tonight.

I dream of pirates. They are chasing me up the stair case. I try to run, but I find myself glued to the spot. The air is thick with smoke, and I cannot see how many of them there are.

I wake up with a jump, sweating and trembling. In the darkness, the dream is real. The shadows swoop and dance around me. Eventually, I work out the courage to get up and light a candle. I need to get the dream completely out of my mind, so I wrap a cloak around me and head downstairs.

Chapter 2, The hazel eyed attacker

By morning, there is no sign of father. I decide to get out of dance lessons by spending the whole day at the beach. The weather is fine enough, with hardly and clouds in sight.

I pull off my boots and run towards the water. The waves are huge and quickly soak my dress. Bits of broken shells brush against my feet and leave tiny pink scratches. I stand in the water for a bit longer, before deciding to go and explore the rock pools. After a while, the sun gets stronger, so I retreat to the shade of the palm trees and lie down. The sand is warm against my skin and I quickly fall asleep.

I wake up as rain drops land on my face. I open my eyes and look at the sky. The sun has disappeared beneath the grey rain clouds, and a thick blanket of mist hangs over the water. This dose not seem to be the same place it was several hours ago. I get up and walk towards the water. It seems to be calling to me.

Somewhere in the mist, I can hear voices. A heavy voice is calling out the fathoms, and I can faintly hear the ringing of a bell.

My eyes have now got used to the mist. I can make out the shape of a dark ship with torn sails, with the words; the swift return written on its side. The figurehead is hideous.

These are obviously pirates. Just like in my night mare, I'm glued to the spot. Part of me wants to stay and watch, while the other half wants to run for its life. Several boats have begun rowing to shore. There are about 50 men. Many are dressed in brightly coloured silks and satins with white frothing collars, but they all have one thing in common. Each has about 5 or 6 weapons hanging off his belt. Pistols and cutlasses all round. As the boats reach the shore, they begin to unload all sorts of equipment. Grappling hooks and scaling ladders are plentiful. I decide to make a run for it.

I'm wild with fear. Suddenly, a voice calls out. My presence has been noticed. I run for my life, but they are faster than me. I trip over a sand dune, I struggle to get up and keep running. They are armed with pistols and cutlasses; I am no match for them.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, my house comes in to view. I stagger towards the gate. It's locked and the guard is fast asleep. I shout and scream, but he won't budge.

"Wake up you great Bogart!" I slap him hard on the cheek. "Pirates are chasing me! Open the gate at once!"

Slowly, he fumbles with the keys and opens the wooden gate. I scramble to get in, but rough hands from the outside grab me. I let out a blood curdling scream. Suddenly, Fred and Bart appear, and begin to pull me back inside. Finally, they let go. A great hairy hand is trying to wench the gate open. Bart pulls out his sword and slices it. The attacker lets out an agonising scream, and falls to the ground.

"Take that you bastard!" shouts Bart, jumping up with excitement. I roll my eyes.

The gate begins to tremble. We make a run towards the door, and run inside.

Father is now home. The room is full of soldiers. Pistols and muskets are being loaded.

The battle is long and terrible. It is the worst I remember. Soldiers stand at the entrance. Susan carries pots of boiling glue upstairs, cursing under her breath as servants scramble out of the way. With all the people, I find it hard to move. I decide to help by checking that all the windows are blocked. I have not forgotten the scaling ladders I saw earlier. I find Fred and Bart looking very grim.

"They are trying go get in, Amaranta. Run to the closet in mother's room and hide."

"No! I'd rather die alongside my family than be a coward and hide."

Bart shrugs his shoulders. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

I ignore him. We look down, and see a wisp of smoke feathering out of a narrow crack in the door.

"It will never burn, Fred." Thank god father made sure that it was the strongest available.

"Did you hear that?"

We all listen. Fred's mouth tightens. "Grappling irons! They are trying to get up the walls!"

"They must have hooked into one of the windows! Quick, start looking, I'll get some of the others to securing all of the windows."

As I speak, the worst of my fears are confirmed. Susan rushes down the stairs to tell us that the pirates have begun scaling the walls. I run upstairs to check the windows for grappling irons.

In the end, though, I am the first to find the first ugly metal hook. I go into the library, and find one of the soldiers dead on the floor. He has a great wound to his head where the grappling hook hit him before it caught tightly under the sill of the window. Now it rattles and shakes as someone climbs up the rope ladder beneath.

There is no time. A face appears at the window. It is all happening too fast. The bright hazel eyes are wild with fear. He would have hauled himself in, but with the shock of seeing me, his defences are down, and he is too slow. I take his face in my hands and push. With an arching cry, he somersaults out of sight. I send his hook spinning after him, but I cannot watch. Instead, I race out of the room.

Finally, the pirates give up. Father's soldier's fire at the pirates for the last time. They quickly flee out of range, heading downhill and out to sea, where their ship is anchored. They carry their wounded, and leave behind them, charred ghastly corpses on the bloody, ashen ground.

Chapter 3, the forest

Green light flitters through the leaves and falls onto the forest floor. Fred and Bart walk ahead of me, carrying muskets. I follow them, stopping every now and then to pick flowers that hang from vines and litter the forest floor. We reach a clearing, and old abandoned cottage stands in the middle of it. The garden surrounding it is overgrown and is bordered by a crumbling stone fence. We sit down on it and eat what we have brought with us. I sit and listen to what the boys are saying. Bart is eager to impress Fred with his gory descriptions of yesterdays attack. I don't wish to join in, for the hazel eyed stranger is constantly on my mind. Fred puts a brotherly arm around me and asks me why I'm so quiet.

"You can always tell us everything Amie." He says, making me feel worse. "Or is it something private?"

I remain silent. This is the first time that I haven't had the heart to talk to Fred about something. Fred must have butchered several pirates last night, and he would surely find my guilt ridiculous.

"I appreciate your concern, Fred, but it's merely the thought of what happened yesterday that lingers on my mind."

"I understand. I'll say no more." But, Fred continues to search my face for clues.

After a while, they deside to get up and look around. I offer to stay here and rest a while longer.

"As you wish, Amie. Here," says Bart, reaching into his pocket, and pulling out a pistol and holds it out to me. "Just encase one of those bastards' creeps up on you."

I take the pistol, and hold it tightly in my grip. It isn't one of his best, but it is rather nice. The snout is silver, and the handle is smooth mahogany, with the initials 'B.J.A' carved on it. They leave me, and walk away.

I grow reckless and decide to take a closer look at the cottage. Daisies grow in small patches around the entrance, I notice that the door seems to have been knocked out of its hinge. I walk up closer and peep in through the window.

The room is dim, and few pieces of broken furniture lie scattered around the room. In the very corner is a straw pallet with a couple of rags on it. To my horror, I see a arm, pointing in a twisted angle, and soaked in blood sticking out from under it. It's still alive for I can hear raspy breathing. The person rolls over to his side revealing his face. I recognise it immediately. It's the young man with the grappling hook.

He is most likely in excruciating pain. He groans and turns, revealing his other wounds.

I turn away from the window and returned to the crumbling fence. Fred and Bart have returned. Both are eager to get going, so we decide to head home. My throat is dry, and my heart is pounding. It amounts to treason, to conceal the presence of a pirate, and the penalty is the gallows. Being certain that he is the young man I pushed out of the window is the only excuse I can give myself. I can give myself. I can still feel his soft skin where my fingers pressed, and the horrific ease of pushing him into the un supporting air.

Chapter 3, I lie and steal for my enemy

I sit on the balcony and think about the extra ordinary course of action I have taken. The pirate is obviously injured, badly injured, or he would have left with the rest of his crew. He is my enemy, but it is me who pushed him from the window. But on the other hand, it is he who attacked us first. Now it is my duty to tell father, who will at once send for the magistrate, and the pirate will be hanged.