It took us three days to get to Tortuga. We had sailed through the storm the first night, just as Jack had asked, but after that first night the crew was exhausted. The Pearl made slow going the second day, due to the lack of fresh crew members. I worked long and hard hours to keep my mind off home. When I was alone and idle for too long, like when I was about to go to sleep, sad thoughts invaded my mind and kept me tossing and turning for hours. Why was I here? How long would I be here? Would I ever see my family again? were some of the questions that refused to let my mind rest.

When working on the Pearl, yelling was common for the crew members. Whether it was an "Aye aye, cap'n!" or a "Grab that rope, Cotton, and heave the sails!", there was always some shouting going on. I was no stranger to it. Many times, especially during the storms, I had to scream at the other crew members in order for them to hear me. As a result, I began to lose my voice.

Jack never missed an opportunity to tease me about this. One of his favorite things to do was call me to his quarters to have a "talk", and then act bewildered when he couldn't understand me.

The first time he did this infuriated me. I was standing there waving my arms and trying to mime what I had been doing all day with Jack grinning at me, looking all smug in his chair with his feet propped up on the table.

After about three of these episodes, I just stood there glaring at him with my arms crossed. Jack would laugh at my angry expression and apologize profusely--but not entirely sincerely--for interrupting my work.

When we finally reached Tortuga, my voice was almost completely gone. We arrived at the port as the sun was setting, and managed to make it to the island before dark. Some of the crew, including Cotton, stayed on the Pearl, but most us, including Gibbs, Anamaria, Jack and I, went ashore.

We followed Jack into the heart of the city--if you can call it a city. I figured Tortuga had been their destination before I had turned up, because most of the crew went their own ways in the city. Soon, only Gibbs, Anamaria, Jack and I were left. They started walking to a particularly rowdy tavern, and I followed.

I wondered why Jack had wanted to come to Tortuga so badly, but I couldn't say anything due to my voice--or rather, lack of it.

All of a sudden, Jack stopped in his tracks, eyes widening in horror. "Oh, no," he whispered, staring straight in front of him.

I wondered what he was so worried about. Fortunately, I didn't have to wonder very long about what seemed to be terrifying him so much.

A blond woman in a rather revealing dress was walking towards us.

"Jack Sparrow!" she yelled, marching right up to him. "I didn't know you were into younger girls!"

I stared at her, shocked. What was she thinking? That was just gross--Jack and I were friends! And besides, didn't she see Anamaria?

I glanced around to Jack's other side, but Anamaria was nowhere in sight. Frowning, I looked up at Jack to see his response.

"Giselle!" he exclaimed, a false smile flying to his lips. "It's been so long...I see you've noticed my daughter, Monica." He grabbed my arm and pulled me in front of him, as if I were a shield to protect him from this woman.

Giselle stared at me, quite shocked. "Your daughter?"

"Yes, I'm so sorry, love. I'm a family man now." Jack tightened his grip on my shoulders, warning me not to interfere. Don't worry about it, buddy, I thought, suppressing a grin. I can't say a damn thing...and besides, I want to see where this is heading!

Giselle put her hands on her hips angrily. "Oh, really?" she said, looking at me suspiciously. "Who's the mother? Is it that redhead who slapped you last time?"

"No, it was someone else," said Jack, looking rueful. "And if you please, darling, don't tell her. She doesn't know."

And with that, he nudged Giselle out of the way, his hands still clamped on my shoulders in what he clearly thought was a fathering way.

Once Giselle was out of earshot, I laughed. Well, I tried to laugh. The noise that came out of my throat sounded more like the last croak of a dying frog.

Jack looked down at me, frowning. His hands still on my shoulders, he steered me into the tavern I had noticed before.

Once inside, Jack finally released his hold on me. I recognized the tavern instantly as the one where Jack had told Mr. Gibbs about his plan to take the Black Pearl from Barbossa. Awed, and rubbing my shoulders from the deathlike grip Jack had had on me, I watched the number of fights going on around us. Jack led Gibbs and I further inside the tavern, eventually reaching a table pressed up against the wall where the bar was. The two men who had been playing cards at the table had gotten into a fight and were now rolling around on the floor in front of us.

We stepped over the two men and settled ourselves in the three chairs at the table. It was only then that Jack noticed that we were three instead of four.

"Where's Anamaria?" he asked curiously, looking around as if he could pick her out in one of the drunken brawls around the room.

Gibbs and I shrugged. No one had seen her since Giselle had confronted Jack in the street.

Jack grabbed a mug that had been thrown over our table and brought it to his lips expectantly.

"Bloody empty!" he muttered, tossing the mug away, not noticing as it smacked someone on the back of the head. "I'll be right back," he said, sliding out of his chair.

Gibbs, followed, clearly afraid to be alone with me. I rolled my eyes at the fearful expression on his face as he hurried away. Once they were gone, I noticed a shadow over the table.

I looked up to see a huge, muscular, bald man glaring at me.

"Did you throw this?" he growled, holding up the mug Jack had just tried to drink out of.

I shook my head fearfully, backing my chair up closer the the wall.

"It came from this direction!" he yelled, looking absolutely furious.

"I'm telling you, it wasn't me!" I squeaked, but the words barely made it out of my throat.

"WHAT DID YOU CALL ME!" he roared, enraged, throwing the mug to the floor. I watched in horror as it shattered into thousands of pieces.

The room fell silent, hearing the bellowing of this man and the crash of clay on the stone floor. I felt all eyes on me as the room waited for my response.

"I--"

Suddenly, there was the unmistakable click of a pistol from behind the bald man.

The man turned his huge frame halfway, revealing Jack standing there with his pistol pointing directly at the man.

No one said a word as the huge man turned around to face Jack, his back to me now. I wanted to see what was going on, but I was too terrified to move.

Finally, the huge man turned away from Jack and cut his way through a group of drunks, who promptly started fighting with each other. I breathed a sigh of relief when the rest of the patrons of the tavern followed suit and started brawling with their neighbors.

"Thanks for that," I managed to say hoarsely to Jack as he sat back down, mug in hand.

"Don't mention it," he replied, taking a sip of his rum.

Gibbs sat down heavily with his own mug clutched in his hands. Clearly, he didn't approve of all the trouble I was getting into and all the trouble Jack was going through to get me out of it.

I calmed down as the two men sipped their drinks. I was grateful that Jack hadn't offered me any alcohol.

As Jack and Mr. Gibbs drank in silence, my eyes wandered over the brawls in the tavern. I was wondering why we were here. It was clear that the two men were waiting for something, as they were sipping their drinks much too slowly. They were exchanging glances at a rate that was far above normal standards, and they seemed to be scanning the room more often than was necessary.

I was watching Mr. Gibbs's eyes dart around the room suspiciously when I realized that someone was standing next to our table.

I looked up to see three Indian men in turbans looking at us expectantly. I gave Jack a sidelong glance, wondering if he knew them. Apparently he did, for he stood up, smiling, and gesturing for Gibbs and I to do the same. Jack offered our seats to the three men, and they settled down comfortably. Without missing a beat, both Gibbs and Jack grabbed unattended chairs from the next table, pulled them up to our table, and sat back down. I remained standing, not wanting to piss anyone off again.

The five men bent their heads together, listening to what I thought was a proposition by Jack. I wanted to know what they were talking about, but there was no room left around the table for me to kneel at. I started edging closer to the table, hoping to catch a few words at least, but two men cut their way across my path, punching each other fiercely.

I stumbled backwards, not wanting to interfere in their fight. My boot caught on a broken, upturned chair on the ground and I fell on my butt.

Good thing I'm not a clumsy oaf, I thought sarcastically, sitting up on my knees. Otherwise, that would really have hurt!

I was brushing the dirt off of my clothes when a huge hand clamped over my mouth and a muscular arm wrapped around my waist.