Chapter two: And Here I Am

Alex bowed her head and hummed herself a tune to the beat of her boots hitting the wooden planks of the dock. With her hands in her pockets, she stopped and looked to the horizon. She could remember three weeks ago, she had thought her life couldn't get any worse. But she had been wrong.

Three weeks ago, her father had died, leaving her alone. She had to sell the house to pay off all of the debt he had owed, and now all she had were things that didn't really matter to her anymore. She wore her father's clothes because she couldn't afford a dress, and slept in the blacksmith's shop, thanks to Will Turner.

But she had a new love. Will was teaching her the sword, and she was catching on quick. Also, she had taken to stealing. She loved the adrenaline rush it gave her, loved the satisfaction of walking away with her prize in her hand, hearing the merchant scream about his lost merchandise, and being the only one to know what happened to it. Mostly all she stole was food, but occasionally she'd swipe a necklace, or soap. Fear was lost to her in those precious moments . . . but guilt occasionally worked its way into the moments or hours afterwards.

The faint sound of whistles and drums reminded her that Norrington's promotion ceremony was taking place. With a sigh, she turned around, and stopped dead in her tracks, her brows furrowed and an amused grin on her lips.

Drifting toward the dock was a boat, sinking lower and lower into the water as it neared the dock. The water was already half way up the mast, and so the man it transported had taken to standing by the crow's nest to stay dry. He was a strange man, with wild black hair; which was either braided with trinkets, dreadlocked, or fell free to knot, and held out of his eyes with a red bandana. He wore so many layers she would have betted money, if she had any, that he would soon collapse from the heat.

She laughed gently, shook her head, and walked away in search of Murtogg and Mullroy. Whenever they were on duty, she could usually talk them into letting her do their assigned work for a few shillings. The two redcoats pretended they didn't know what she bought with the shillings, but Alex knew different. Her drinking problem was no secret in Port Royal.

She found the men relaxing in the shade given off by the main dock, talking even though they were supposed to be watching the Interceptor. They quickly snapped out of their conversation to greet her, but she cut right to the point.

'You two got any work for me?' she asked blandly.

'Er . . . . Yeah,' Mullroy began stiffly. 'The brigs need to be cleaned, and . . . . And, well, that's it.'

Alex nodded, but never got a chance to board the Interceptor. Within seconds after Mullroy finished speaking, the strange man who had floated in on the sinking boat came strutting down the ramp, an innocent look plastered on his face.

'This dock is off limits to civilians!'

The man stopped in his tracks and turned slowly, looking slightly put out. He examined the two redcoats, and Alex saw his eyes dart to each place where a weapon was hidden on the men. 'Clever,' Alex thought, watching the suspicious man closely.

'I'm terribly sorry – I didn't know. If I see one, I shall inform yeh immediately,' the man stated. Alex furrowed her brows. It was obvious, to her at least, that this ragged man was trying hard to hide his slurring accent. He tried to walk past the two guards, but they stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

'Apparently there's some sort o' high-toned 'n fancy t'-do up at the fort, eh? How could it be tha' two upstandin' gentleman such as yerselves did not merit an invitation?' the black haired man asked. 'So, he's taken to talking,' Alex mused, innocently meandering over to the start of the gang plank to the ship.

'Someone has to make sure this dock stays off limits to civilians,' was the innocent reply.

'It's a fine goal, t' be sure. But it seemed t' me tha' a ship like that makes this one 'ere a bit superfluous, really.'

'Okay, enough talk,' Alex spoke up, crossing her arms over her chest. If Murtogg and Mullroy weren't going to do their job, she'd do it for them. 'What's your name, and what's your purpose here?'

The man gave her a strange look, and then looked her over from head to toe. A glimmer of what appeared to be recognition in his eyes confused Alex, because she was sure she had never seen him before, except only moments before.

'Me name's Smith, or Smithy, if yeh like,' he started, suddenly grinning sarcastically. 'Since yeh're such a pretty lass, I'll confess. It is me intention t' commandeer one o' these ships, pick up a crew in Tortuga, raid, pillage, plunder, and otherwise pilfer me weaselly black guts out.'

'Don't lie!' Murtogg spoke up.

'I don't believe he is,' Alex muttered underneath her breath. Smith gave her either a congratulatory look, or something she couldn't read.

'Now, what's yer name?' Smith asked.

Alex did not reply. She had suspected what he was since she saw him – the clothes, the hair, the trinkets and jewels all pointed to one thing. And that one thing was that he was a pirate. She had been with . . . well, seen enough of them to tell. Sure, she had always thought that pirates were interesting, but she was in enough trouble already. Consulting with a pirate wouldn't help her record any. But Murtogg and Mullroy obviously hadn't drawn the same conclusion, because it wasn't long before the men, Smith included, were seated, and Smith was telling them a story. Alex sighed and stood nearby. She couldn't point out that Smith was a pirate, because he was armed, and she wasn't, for once. And she couldn't go get help, because not only would it be too obvious, but the rest of the redcoats were at the ceremony.

The Black Pearl was suddenly mentioned in the conversation, and Alex listened closer. Smith seemed to know an awful lot about the Pearl . . . . If she hadn't believed he wasn't really named Smith in the first place, she really didn't believe it now. Alex thought up something to say quickly.

'I've heard the cap'n, Jack Sparrow, is a mangy bastard and an awful cap'n,' Alex spoke up. It wasn't exactly a lie, since that was some people's opinion of Jack Sparrow, but it wasn't hers. She had read about Sparrow from Elizabeth's books, and she thought he was quite cunning and awfully clever for someone who had supposedly gone mad with the heat on the small island where he had been marooned. . . . It was rumored he had died on that island, but Alex had often bargained with the rumrunners when they had snuck into Port Royal, and they had told her stories of a man they had rescued, but the stories were left unfinished, because Norrington caught them soon after and hanged them. Of course, she had just assumed the man in the stories was Sparrow . . .

'Yeh shouldn't judge a man 'fore yeh meet 'im, love,' Smith drawled, meeting her gaze. ''Specially not 'coz he's a pirate.'

'Have you met him, then?' she retorted. Smith looked taken aback, and hesitated on his reply.

'Well, 'o course not.'

'Then you can't tell me otherwise, can you?' she asked, hiding a grin of triumph.

'Well, I guess I can't,' Smith said. He was quiet for a long while, maybe pondering what she had said, but then leaned in closer to the guards to whisper something. 'Fiery, isn't she?'

Alex rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, about to board the Interceptor for her day's duties, her back turned as Murtogg and Mullroy nodded in agreement with Smith. But Alex froze when a splash in the ocean reached her ears.

'ELIZABETH!'

'Oh, shit,' Alex breathed, seeing the large, foaming circle where Elizabeth had entered the water, surrounded by rocks. Smith glanced at Alex, and then at the guards.

'Will yeh be savin' her?' he asked Murtogg and Mullroy.

'I can't swim.'

'Prides o' the King's navy, yeh are,' Smith mumbled, stripping off his hat, jacket, and weaponry. 'Do not loose those,' he said as he pushed his effects into the guards' hands. Then with a large breath, he dove into the water.

Alex held her breath, seeing neither Smith nor Elizabeth surface for what seemed like forever. She didn't notice the drastic change in the weather – she was too busy worrying about her friend. True, she and Elizabeth didn't have the best friendship, but Alex certainly didn't want her to drown.

Then, suddenly, Smith surfaced with Elizabeth, her head lolling at his shoulder. Smith was struggling to keep them from sinking again, but it was no use. Alex gasped softly, itching to help. She looked around.

Redcoats were running, led by Norrington, over the path that would take them to the guarded dock. Smith surfaced again, this time with Elizabeth dressed in only her undergarments. He swam to the dock and handed Elizabeth to Murtogg and Mullroy so he could climb out of the water. Alex watched Smith, and he met her gaze, panting from the effort of getting Elizabeth to safety, and lack of breath. She still wasn't certain of the stranger, but she felt she could trust him a little more.

'She's not breathing!' Alex spun around in horror, her eyes falling on Elizabeth's unconscious form lying on the dock.

'Move!' Smith commanded, grabbing the bayonet from Mullroy's gun. He sliced Elizabeth's corset, and ripped it from her stomach. Elizabeth's eyes flew open, and she coughed and sputtered, rolling over as she coughed up water.

'I never would have thought of that.'

'Clearly yeh've ne'er been t' Singapore,' Smith panted. The dock flooded with guards, just as Smith found the pirate's medallion hanging around Elizabeth's neck.

'Now where did yeh get that?' Smith breath, but found himself being forced to stand at the point of Norrington's blade.

'Elizabeth!' the governor cried, rushing to his daughter's side. He pulled her to her feet. 'Are you alright?'

'Yes – yes, I'm fine,' she stated, gladly accepting the coat her father wrapped around her shoulders. As soon as Governor Swann realized Smith had cut off Elizabeth's corset, he demanded the man be shot.

'Father! Commodore, do you really intend to kill my rescuer?' Elizabeth asked sweetly. The commodore looked at Elizabeth, hesitated, but reluctantly gave in. Smith bowed his head to her as a thank you.

'I believe thanks are in order,' Norrington stated, sticking out his hand for Smith to shake. Smith hesitated, but eventually shook, only to find out he had been tricked. Norrington jerked Smith forward and pushed back his sleeve.

'Had a brush with the East India Trading Company, did we, pirate?' Norrington snarled.

'Hang him!' Governor Swann demanded. Smith glanced at Alex, but she looked away, down to her shoes as if they were the most interesting things she had ever seen.

'Don't look to Miss O'Conner – she knows when she's overstepped her boundaries,' Norrington stated. Alex looked up, her gaze on Norrington's back, and smirked, but quickly looked away. 'Keep your guns on him, men! Gillette, fetch some irons!' Norrington pushed Smith's sleeve up further, revealing a tattoo of a bird flying over the ocean with the sun behind it. 'Well, well. Jack Sparrow, isn't it?'

Okay, yes, revised . . . Umm, tell me how you liked it. Don't say it's useless, though, please. And if you want to know why Alex acts like such a know it all, then keep reading. I know some would say it spoils the story for Alex to know about the rumrunners, but keep reading, you'll be shocked.

!LiM!