Disclaimer: I don't have permission to be writing this. Don't sue me.

A/N: hmm...more reviews would be nice...

Name(s):

Jacques: Jay-kweez

Rosalyn: Roz-uh-line (can also be Roz-uh-lin. It's up to you.)

Cicada: seh-kay-de (a kind of cricket-like insect)

Adina

Chapter four

"Mummy, is this good?"

Bethany stared up at me, her fawn-like eyes beseeching. The handkerchief she had been toiling over for the last hour was in her left hand, her needle and embroidery floss in her right. I took the hankie, handling it as if it were fine glass. I examined it front and back. The stitches on the front where sloppy and loose, and the back was a mess of knots. However, Bethany was still an amateur (she was only five years of age), and I didn't want to discourage her.

"It's marvelous, darling." I purred, tousling her silky dark curls.

Bethany positively beamed with pride. "It's an orchid," she said proudly, pointing with an olive-skinned finger to the vague mass of purpley thread in the center of the hankie.

"And a very beautiful one at that, Beth." I said, handing the hankie back to my daughter.

Quite pleased with herself, Bethany skipped back to her favorite chair in the nursery. The nursery was possibly my favorite room in the house; it was a cozy, well-lit room, its floor strewn with various toys. And it was where my children spent most of their time. I could only spend one hour with them each day, which saddened me greatly. Between entertaining guests, going to ceremonies and parties, and sleeping, there was just no time. I would gladly have forfeited entertaining guests nearly every day to spend more time with Milo and Bethany, but that would be looked down upon. Besides, I was desperately trying not to draw attention to myself.

My marriage to Nathaniel had raised more than a few eyebrows; a lower-class girl had no business marrying a member of the gentry, especially a lower-class girl that was not even English. I often found that my Moroccan blood worked against me, no matter how much I tried to disguise it; I powdered my face to pale my dark complexion, but it was a poor mask to hide behind and fooled no one. I eventually gave up trying to change my outer appearance and decided focus on my behavior. I took great pains to become a lady-- I learned embroidery, flute, and harpsichord; I taught myself French and dabbled in Italian; I mastered all the rules of etiquette; and I learned to speak like a well-bred woman, abandoning the slang of my childhood. I was secretly very proud of my achievements.

As I reflected, Milo stormed into the nursery. His cherubic mouth was drawn into a scowl, and his brow was furrowed. He had a wooden toy soldier in his small fist, and his smoke-colored eyes flashed fiercely. He stormed up to Bethany, who was playing with one of her numerous exquisite porcelain dolls and had her backed turned to him. He then briskly hit her. She immediately started to cry.

"Milo!" I cried, leaping from my seat. He looked triumphant.

"Milo Jacques Ashcroft, you are not to hit your sister! I expected better from a boy of seven!" I scolded, gathering a wailing Bethany in my arms. "Your father is going to be very upset when he hears of this! I am highly disappointed in you! You will go without supper tonight!"

Much to my distress, Milo looked like he might cry at any moment.

"Mummy, she started it!" he said, tears welling in his eyes. "She broke Lieutenant Morris! Look!" Milo uncurled his fist, revealing that the toy he was carrying was snapped clean in half. He started to bawl loudly.

"Oh, Lordy Lou," I muttered wearily, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

Right on cue, one of the children's nursemaids, Rebecca, came bustling in. She picked up the weeping Milo without a word and gave me a questioning look, as if to say 'Want me to take the other one?' Bethany's tears were slowing, and as a result she was starting to hiccup. I shook my head. Rebecca shrugged and left the nursery, carrying Milo with her. I turned to Bethany.

"Bethany, did you break Milo's toy?"

She hiccuped and slowly nodded. I sighed.

"You are not to touch your brother's belongings, and the same goes for him touching your belongings. Sa—am I clear?" I had almost said 'savvy'. I definitely needed some rest.

"Milady, you have a visitor." said a cautious voice.

I tore my eyes away from the window and acknowledged the servant who was poking her head through the doorway. "I will be down soon," I told her. She nodded and scurried off. I resumed staring out the window.

The island of Santa Veronica was truly a beautiful place; its lush forests and golden sands made it an Eden of sorts. It was four o'clock, and the Caribbean sun shone determinedly down on the island and it's inhabitants. I idly fingered the hem of my dress, admiring how the sunlight caught the fabric and made it shine. The deep teal of the silk reflected the color of the sea. I gazed wistfully at the horizon. My brother was on that sea now, somewhere off in the distance, seeing places, meeting people...

I pulled myself out of my daydreams and started toward the door of the bedroom, knowing Mrs. Violet Wells was not one to be kept waiting.

"How are you, Adina?" Violet greeted me with her usual feisty grin as I made my way down the staircase."I am well, thank you, Violet." I said graciously. I perched on the edge of a richly embroidered chair as a servant brought a tray of tea and sweets. Violet waited until the servant had poured the tea and left before she started talking in a low, hushed tone. Violet liked nothing better than to sit and exchange gossip. I listened intently.

"Do you remember Elizabeth Swann? That one governor's daughter?"

I nodded. "Was she the girl who fainted while she was dancing with some lieutenant? At Lorraine Flynn's seventeenth birthday celebration?"

Violet grinned wickedly. "The very same one."

"What about her?"

"You where invited to Norrington's little ceremony?"

I nodded. Nathaniel and I had been invited, but Nathaniel was off at sea, and I wasn't particularly fond of James, soI declined.

"Apparently that Sparrow fellow they've been chasing showed up at the party."

I felt my stomach lurch horribly. What was Jack thinking?

"What happened?"

"He tried to kidnap Swann!"

"The governor?"

"His daughter!"

"How's that?"

"They tried to arrest him when he pulled into port—they don't even know how he got there, there wasn't a strange ship to be seen—and while they tried to catch him, he took MissSwann hostage! He had a knife to her throat and a pistol at her ear, saying he'd shoot if they didn't hand over one of their ship's t'him!"

"What did they do?"

"They coaxed him into leaving Elizabeth unscathed, but when they tried to catch him, he ran. He ended up at some blacksmith where they caught him there."

"He's in the slammer now?"

"The who?"

"Is he in prison?"

"They locked him up, yes, and he hasn't managed to escape...yet. But it gets better."

"How's that?"

"You've heard of the Black Pearl?"

I paused for a moment. Heard of it? Last I heard, Jack had been captain of that damned vessel. But Violet had said there had been no strange ships in the harbor when Jack had come, so...

"There are more myths surrounding that ship than any other, I think. Supposedly it's crewed by the damned and moves with unnatural speed. "

"Everyone knows that, Vi."

"Well, apparently,the Pearlattacked Port Royal the very same day."

"What of Sparrow?"

"The piratesleft him locked in his cell."

"Why?"

Violet shrugged. "The pirates that attacked the fort didn't like him, I suppose."

I paused, absorbing the information.

"Who did you say the captain of the Pearl was?"

Violet pondered this for a minute. "It's on the tip of my tongue...oh, what is it..."

Her face contorted in thought. It suddenly lit up.

"Barbossa! That's what it is!"

I dropped my teacup, which shattered on the marble floor.

"Are you feeling well, Adina?" Violet asked me, looking worried and alarmed.

"Oh yes, I'm fine," I said in a strained voice, giving a false smile. Violet gave me a suspicious look as a servant swept up the shards. She glanced at the clock and exclaimed that she must be going, she was expecting company. I watched until the front door shut behind her, and then I sank deeply into my chair with a sigh, thinking of my brother and his ill fortune. Well, technically he was my half brother; my father had been an Irish innkeeper, whereas his father had been a Frenchman of rank unknown. I was three years his senior. However, we shared a mother, and we had spent our childhood together, growing up as urchins on the seedy streets of Tortuga. We had chosen different paths, though; I masqueraded as a lady in order to marry my love, Nathaniel Ashcroft, while he had become a mariner to be closer to his love, the sea. I had not seen him in years, and I still remembered when I first learned he would become a sailor.

I had been sixteen and old enough to fend for myself and look after my little brother. He had been thirteen, still a boy, his voice still in girlish treble. He had put on sailors clothing, and when I first saw Jack I thought he had stolen them off some unfortunate drunkard. I laughed when I saw him.

"And what, pray tell, are you doing with those?"

He stuck out his chin in defiance.

"I am becoming a sailor, madam, and no one can stop me."

"Not even Mother?" I teased.

"Not even Mother. I am old enough to make my own decisions, Adina Rosalyn, and I want to go out to sea."

This surprised me.

"Jack, you are far too young!"

"I am not! I have already signed a compact with the captain of the Mary-Anne, and I sail tomorrow!"

"Jack-"

"I am not a child anymore, Adina!"

"You know nothing of the sea! You will die within a week!"

"I will learn! And if I die, so be it!"

Before I could argue further, he ran off down the alley, nearly tripping on his new clothes. I sat down on a barrel and cried.

I retired into my bedroom, taking a last look out the window. There was a tiny black dot out on the horizon, a ship coming to port. I washed my face and collapsed on the bed. The gossamer drapes of the bed floated like mist in the breeze coming through the window. Acicada chirped somewhere in the distance.

I must have fallen asleep, because I woke later to a disatant booming. A servant unceremoniously burst through the door. She had been shot; blood oozed from a hole in her chest. Her eyes were wild with terror. "P...pirates!" she gasped before collapsing onto the carpet. A crimson pool formed where she lay while I stared numbly in shock, oblivious to the figure coming toward me. I heard something heavy collide with my head and knew no more.

"Lovely singing voice, though. Eunuch."

A/N: I don't know if thiscounts as a cliffie, but I gave you a nice long chapter anyway. Remeber, Capt'n Jack says: "Leave a review and you could win a date with me, the dashing Captain Jack Sparrow!"

...well, not really. But you get it.