Disclaimer: Yet again, I do not own the POTC characters and that is extremely depressing.

Chapter 5: Prudence Martin, Amateur Stowaway

The cargo hold of the HMS Hunter wasn't the best accommodations Pru had ever stayed in. There were crates upon crates and when it wasn't a crate, it was a barrel. However, it was quite amazing what one could do with limited resources. Within a few hours, Prudence had fashioned a room hidden behind some crates that would service quite nicely for the next few weeks. The lull and sway of the ship would surely rock her to sleep as well as any lullaby could.

By the time she finished her living quarters, her stomach loudly reminded her of the time difference between her last meal and the present. Getting food could be tricky, though. Such is the life of a stowaway,Pru reasonedas she crept up the stairs. Thankfully, night had fallen and a light watch had been kept on deck. Pausing to get her bearings, Pru glanced to the wheel. She was immediatelystruck by a tallman with a dignified bearing who had been consulting with a subordinate. It was obviously a subordinate; Pru couldn't imagine that command could ooze from a person anymore than it did from this man.

At that moment, he turned around and Pru swore he looked straight at her. She froze, unable to breathe. The moment seemed to stretch forever with a connection that was almost tangible. Hell's Bells, he was handsome, Pru thought. Finally, he frowned in her direction before glancing out at the ocean one last time and headed back to another part of the ship. It wasmoments later whenPru remembered how to breathe.

Breathing deeply and cursing herself for being a silly girl, Prudence walked in the shadows to the galley. Grabbing as much as she could, Prudence stuffed what food would last the longest into her pack. Coming back from the galley proved a bit more troublesome than the trip to the food stash. Pru heard steps to her right as she quickly dove for the shadows.

"They were more like undead rather than dead.," a sailor remarked.

"Mullroy, they can't be undead unless they were alive, more like."

"Well, they can't be alive, Murtogg."

"'ow abou' immortal undead?"

Pru silently groaned. She'd be here forever unless she did something. Ducking behind a barrel, Pru looked in her bag for the old bloody hanky she'd used to clean the split lip she'd gained from the tavern brawls. Letting out an evil shriek, Pru threw the handkerchief toward the sailors.

Pru heard Murtogg and Mullroy scream like girls and race around the corner. Giving a low laugh, Pru slunk back to her little corner room on the HMS Hunter.

Commodore James Norrington bent his head down and held his nose between his index finger and thumb. Docking in Georgia to make repairs hadn't been the best part of this voyage and hadonly served to further his frustration of being within a hairs breadth of catching that damned Jack Sparrow again.

For years James had been steadfast in his mission to rid the Caribbean of pirates, only to suddenly have his priorities turned upside down. If he was to face the truth, Elizabeth Swann's defense of Sparrow hadn't been the only reason he'd allowed Sparrow's escape. No, rather it had been the realization that the issue wasn't as black and white as he would have wanted it to be. Sparrow had an element of goodness in him. Admittedly not much, but he wasn't the complete rascal most pirates were. What was frustrating was the frequency Sparrow came within the Commodore'sreach. Honor and duty demanded James attempt to capture him. His responsibility demanded he capture him and it was getting damned hard to avoid it. His superiors would soon begin asking questions and to put it quite simply his career could not afford it.

However, frustration with Sparrow wasn't the only reason he felt so restless on this voyage. For some reason, every evening as he checked with the night watch, James would glance out to the sea, looking for something that seemed to be just beyond the horizon. As to what he was looking for, James had no idea. It just felt that if he looked hard enough, he'd find what he was looking for, but tonight was different. He'd felt the oddest feeling and it only increased when he turned to investigate. Seeing nothing after several moments of looking, James frowned and returned to his office, where he remained for the evening.

It was then a knock sounded. "Enter," Norrington ordered. Murtogg and Mullroy, perhaps his two most intellectually annoying soldiers, entered and saluted. "Sir," a white faced Mullroy began, "there's been a happening on the starboard side."

Norrington looked toward them with his best official superior stare. "Indeed and what might that 'happening' be," he remarked.

"We have a ghost on board…sir," Murtogg faltered at the end as he became the recipient of Norrington's 'my god are you an idiot' stare.

"Indeed. Do tell me what this spirit has done to alert you to its presence."

"Well, sir, we 'eard this terrible shriek-"

"horrible, more's like," Murtogg interrupted.

"and we saw the bloody hand of the spirit. As we ra…I mean marched to report the sighting, the spirit laughed and we heard it run down the stairs."

"It ran…don't ghosts float," questioned Norrington

"Well, most do, I think, but this was a running one, sir," Mullroy put in.

"Indeed. Gentlemen, you are dismissed. I believe that I'll investigate this occurrence," Norrington dryly remarked.

Pru went still as she heard the creak down the stairs. Slowly, she slunk behind some barrels of hardtack. A deep voice spoke. "If any sailor is down here show yourself immediately."

Pru heard steps getting closer to her hideout. The lantern lit the area she'd carved out as her own. The voice spoke again.

"A ghost indeed."

It was then that Pru felt it. That little tickle in her nose that announced a coming sneeze. "No," she mouthed. The light began to move away but the tickle transformed into a burn. Pru closed her eyes, trying to hold it in, but then the sneeze came. It wasn't a ladylike sneeze that couldn't be heard. Pru hardly ever managed a delicate sneeze. No, what Pru did was a sneeze that could be heard in England and probably in various parts of China as well.

The light came back and suddenly Prudence was yanked out from behind the barrels.

"Who do we have here then, stowaway?"

Pru finally got a good look at her discoverer. It was the commanding gentleman she had spied earlier. He was looking at her with a weird revulsion which Prudence considered totally unwarrantable. She might not have bathed in a few days, but really she wasn't that bad!

"Wi…Will Swann, sir," Prudence stammered.

"Well, Will Swann, which I honestly believe isn't your name, the navy does not take kindly to rogue passengers.," the man arrogantly stated as he took her up on deck, "Murtogg, I've found your 'ghost'. Please show Mr. Swann the accommodations of the brig."

Prudence was escorted to the brig and locked in. That went well, Prudence thought wryly, less than a day and I get caught. I'd never make it as a spy. Now I'm going to be locked in here for who knows how long. Well, at least I'll have some time to think of a plan before I get interrogated. If there is a plan…

James Norrington did not like surprises. He loved routine and he adored regulation. Stowaways were most definitely not part of his well run ship, particularly male stowaways that stirred certain… lower parts of his anatomy. Having never doubted his masculinity before, James became very worried about his untimely reaction. Surely, he couldn't… No, James pleaded with his mind, I will not even think on that possibility. Surely, it was because he hadn't been the type to secure ways to satisfy some of his more private needs. Yes, that must be it. James would simply not comprehend that any other possibility existed.

Sighing, James decided it to be high time he went to bed. Let the stowaway stew in the brig for the night. It would be just as well to interrogate the prisoner and decide upon a punishment tomorrow. For now, he would try valiantly for rest.