Diclaimer: Again, I don't own the movie characters. If I did, I would be a happy girl with my Norry!

Chapter 2: Macho, Macho Man

Somewhere in Rhode Island

Being a boy wasn't easy. Prudence could well get used to the short hair tied in a queue. The breeches she wore were far more comfortable than dress ever could be. No, being dressed like a boy wasn't the problem; looking like a boy was.

Since her search through the taverns began, Pru had been involved in three brawls, a raid by a constable, and had been fondled by two tavern whor…women. The women had been the worst. Pru had barely sat down in the first tavern when a well endowed woman sat beside her and without further adieu caressed the crotch of Pru's pants.

"I BEG YOUR PARDON! We haven't even been properly introduced madam," Pru screamed. "Aye, dearie. Me names Rosie and ye don't have to worry overmuch about the size of yer ship down there. It's the motion of the ocean tha' counts."

Just then a patron yelled, "Aye, Rosie, but it takes a long time to get to England in a rowboat, dunnit?"

Laughter roared through the tavern. Pru's cheeks flamed red. She wasn't quite sure what they meant, but she could guess. Obviously she had forgotten an important part of her disguise. By the time she entered the second tavern, a few creatively placed stockings gave her 'ship' a better appearance. It appeared to be so much better that all the tavern women flocked to Pru's table. Pru had to hand it to the women; they were most appreciative about her 'mast'.

Despite the wonderful complements, Pru escaped the tavern and went in search of another one, praying all the while that she wouldn't be…appreciated quite that way again. The next person who even looked at her mast was going to be punched.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"and then they made me their chief…"

Pru's mouth lifted as she observed the unusual patron seated in a corner of the third tavern she'd been in that night. Swaggering over to the barkeep in an exaggerated manner, Pru ordered their best brew and in New England that meant rum.

Fortifying herself with a gulp of that fine New England rum, she stood and spoke softly, "Would there be any captain here sailing to Port Royal?"

No response.

"Anyone heading near Port Royal?"

Music played. Certain, ahem, women made business propositions to sailors.

"ANY OF YE HEARD OF PORT ROYAL?"

"I've 'eard of it. Ood be askin'?"

Pru glanced toward the man she'd noticed earlier. He was handsome in an unconventional way, if the beaded hair and eye makeup was any indication. She strode over to his table.

"Would ye be heading there then," she asked