Disclaimer: I don't own them. Sigh.

I have to thank everybody that reviewed. A LOT. So…

Immortalwizardpirateelf-fan – First reviewer! Wow! I wasn't even sure if anyone would notice this thing!

Blue Autumn Sky – Thank you sooo much. You have given me the will to go on. (Really!) I have read a great Pirates/Princess crossover, called Ocean Soul, but it isn't on this site.

I am absolutely overjoyed that there are people out there that like this story. Really, really,really,really happy.

I want all of your autographs. YOU ARE MY HEROS!

Also, this is a little bit short because I've decided to at least start the next chapter before I give you this entire one, and because I've never written a swordfight (HINT HINT) before. It's not even a real one, and I can't get it done faster. AUUUGGGGGGHHHH! But it's coming along OK.

CHAPTER TWO

The first mate opened his mouth, but before he could ask anything his questions were answered. "My name is Will Turner, I am one of the best swordsmen you are going to meet on this rock, and I need to find Jack Sparrow."

Westley leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head casually, though his expression was thoughtful. "Why are you looking for Jack Sparrow? This ship hardly has a good chance to find anyone; we're new to these waters. And from what I've heard, he's harder to catch than Moby Dick. You are also hardly dressed as a sword master," he noted, as his gaze drifted across some soot on the brown vest.

"Technically I'm a blacksmith. And if you are new around here, Jack will probably find you."

"You didn't answer the question."

"That's none of your business."

"If you want to come aboard this ship, it is." Westley unfolded his arms and leant over the desk, as though it were no longer there. Will looked hard into his sea blue eyes. "You can trust me, Mr. Turner, with anything, and if you do I'll trust you. Why are you looking for Sparrow? He's a friend of yours."

Will was taken aback by his certainty. ". . . No. Yes. I just can't say now. It's… personal."

Westley thought for a moment, then to Will's relief, nodded his head. "Alright Turner, keep your secret. I hope you'll tell me eventually."

On the way out, Will paused in the doorway and spoke again. "Thank you…"

"Westley. First mate."

"Westley," Will looked up again at the sky, where red was streaking into the ever-darkening blue. "Someone should change those sails."


At dawn the next day, every man that had slept on board was awoken by Buttercup and set on putting the Revenge in order to sail. The rest of the crew arrived over the course of the morning. Barrels of supplies were hauled up, coils of rope were wound for storage, extra, less gaudily dyed canvas was folded and loaded into the hold. Buttercup was looking through her dresses one more time, finally deciding to sell all but two, and dress in men's clothing for any but the more formal occasions. Fezzik was helping Buttercup.

When Will arrived, not long after daybreak, he was greeted by Westley. "If you don't have anything better to do, how would you like to teach the beginners how to use a sword? Roberts and I could use some help."

Will was at first taken aback. "Roberts? I wouldn't think such a famous pirate would do things like that. That seems to be more a job for, well… I think, a mate—you. But, I'd be honored to help."

"Roberts has been doing this – being a pirate – for some time. We decided long ago to learn as much about a new crew as possible, and he is the greatest swordsman I have ever met." Westley paused and nodded at 'Joe the Fiendish' as he rolled a barrel across their path. "We've fought against each other at times."

They swerved through the minor chaos on deck, heading in the direction of a slender, dark figure, with a group of young men. A little over half of the pirates here had swords, and were holding them awkwardly as the apparently left-handed captain slowly brought his own, beautiful weapon through a series of simple strokes and parries with another pirate, Skaffs.

"Roberts! Here, this is Will Turner; he says he would like to help with these." Westley motioned towards the group.

Roberts replied in an easily recognizable but understandable Spanish accent, "'Kay, let's see what you can do, Turner."

Will had brought three swords on board today, two across his back and one neatly positioned on his leather belt. This last slid from its oiled sheath like water. Westley nodded appreciatively. This was a weapon to rival the six-fingered sword made by Domingo Montoya, despite its appearance. The blade swept gracefully to the tip, keeping a perfectly straight edge, and shone like a mirror in the early sun.

Roberts said nothing, and raised his own steel.

END OF CHAPTER TWO

I will do my best – or close to it – to update every week from now on, but I've promised myself and now everyone else out there to finish this story, no matter what. If you are ever bugged by me never updating, then I'd appreciate it if you e-mailed me or at least reviewed. Really, sometimes I just need a push.