The next few weeks on that ship tested her strength in every way possible, both physically and mentally. The captain was training her under a scrutinous eye, never letting her out of his sight.

Above deck he was teaching her how to be a pirate. He tossed her swords and pistols and taught her how to fight, control the rigging and swab the deck. She learned navigation, how to understand a compass and read a map, and how to repair the ship.

But below the deck, when they were alone, he was teaching her how to become a woman...

Capítulo Cinco

Jack didn't return later that afternoon, or that evening. Dulcinea sat alone in her room, thinking. She wondered if Jack was more upset that she didn't want to go with him, or that she was going to attempt to give the comb in exchange for the vihuela... which was sitting on the opposite side of the room, untouched. She felt guilty in a way, knowing that Jack was right. But both the comb and Spain had at one point in her life given her a sense of false loyalty.

A knock at her door made her jump, yet she soon relaxed and cracked it open to see a familiar face. She smiled, heartbeat returning to a normal pace.

"Come in, Mr. Dibbs," the gypsy said, stepping aside. "You frightened me!" Henry shrugged his shoulders, a burly man with a face the color of a sun-ripened tomato. He owned the Smokey Inn, the tavern that Dulcinea now stayed in, and he checked on her regularly. Henry Dibbs was always eager for her to stop by because without her business was usually poor, mostly due to the fact that he always drank much more rum than he served.

"Well, well, dearest, how are ye today?" he prodded, stooping slightly so as not to bang his head on the low ceiling.

"Quite fine, thank you," she lied, sitting on the edge of her bed thoughtfully. Mr. Dibbs, although a drunk, was not stupid. He eyed her with his crisp blue eyes and tugged at his reddish beard, looking for the words to say something.

"Not to be intruding, my dear, but I must advise ye to stay away from the riffraff I've seen ye gallivanting with." She lifted her face up to him, and he gave her a reproachful look. "My business has not the best of reputations, but a pirate! And Jack Sparrow at that!" He shook his head disdainfully. "Wherever he goes… trouble follows 'im. And I don't want to bring that trouble into me place of business." Dulcinea sighed, not wanting to be lectured. "All of Tortuga is trouble. And you know that!" Dibbs frowned, losing his short, thick fingers in his red wiry beard. "Yes, dear, well, a man like 'im doesn't belong with the likes of a girl like ye. Or in a place like mine!" It was the gypsy's turn to frown. "Sparrow is an old friend of mine. Without his help, I would be dead. Any place where he is not welcome is a place where I am not either." She stood up, and started grabbing her things, knowing she would get her way.

Dibbs jumped at her, and she once more turned to face him. He sighed, knowing very well that he had lost. He needed her much more than she needed him. "Don't let him be a problem, dearest. The minute he causes trouble… he's out!" He lifted her chin and stared at her, waiting for her agreement. She nodded her accord, and he stooped out of her room, muttering "Bloody pirates" as he left, shutting her door and leaving her alone once more.

About an hour passed, and Dulcinea sat in the same spot, staring at the vihuela, almost lost completely in thought. Her stomach grumbled angrily at her, and she knew that it was well past time for dinner.

She gathered her skirts at her feet and made her way down the stairs to the tavern below, and she stepped into its smoky haze, looking for a meal. Dibbs was at the bar with a man about twenty years younger with the same wiry red hair. The young gypsy must have been staring awful hard because one of the wenches approached her with a tray of drinks.

"That's 'is nephew," she provided, nodding her head at the two. "Apparently he'll be taking the place over in a few. I 'eard em whispering about it in a corner." Dulce studied the two men, who were still lost in conversation. Dibbs hadn't told her about a replacement. She wondered why.

As her thoughts continued to swirl, she suddenly got a sick feeling deep in her gut. Something was wrong.

She turned to the door, and saw Jack. He was standing there with two curious men, men who looked like they were fresh off the streets - or a cursed ship, for that matter. She pulled her shawl closer around her. As the men walked away, the feeling faded. Jack caught her eye and came over. She could tell that he was still sore about the incident in the market, and she touched his arm in sympathy.

"Jack."

"Dulcinea."

The two stared at each other, and then Jack nodded to a table. "I don't know about you… but I'm starving," he announced, breaking the odd silence and slouching onto the bench. Dulcinea promptly slipped in across from him. She felt eyes on her, and she looked up to meet icy blue ones. Diggs and his nephew were staring at her. She quickly lowered her eyes and grabbed Jack's hand, which diverted his attention from the menu he was studying.

"I need to talk to you about something."

He looked at her curiously, and then put down his menu. "Just a minute, love," he said. "Missy! Over here. We're ready to order."

Another wench came by and took both of their orders, and left behind a big bottle of rum and two shot glasses. Jack poured one, and in less than a second, it was gone. "Alright, love, you 'ave my full attention." His glassy eyes were turned to her. She stroked his hand.

"Jack, have you ever had any problems with Mr. Dibbs?"

"Who?"

"The owner of this place. Over there. By the bar."

Jack coolly took another shot and turned, and his expression remained clear of any emotion. "Oh, him. We've run into each other quite a few times."

"He doesn't like you being here." Dulcinea tucked a strand of curls behind her ear. "What happened?"

Jack smiled oddly. 'Well… he just 'as a thing against pirates, is all. Such a pity."

Dulce felt eyes boring into the back of her head, and she turned. Both of the filthy pirates that she had seen talking to Jack were staring deeply at her. She instantly gripped her stomach. There was that feeling again.

"Something wrong?" Jack's voice sliced through her thoughts.

"Who… who are those pirates that just left?" she asked, trailing a pattern in the wood of the table. Jack swirled the bottle of rum around aimlessly. "Just some regular old pirates, love. They were looking for a captain. I was looking for a crew. We made a few arrangements… a few agreements…" He took a swig from the bottle, and offered it to her. She politely refused.

"I… I don't know, Jack. I don't have a good feeling about those two…" she began uncertainly. Jack shook his head and stretched his legs under the table. "They're pirates, my dear lass. Of course you wouldn't have a good feeling about them." Dulce involuntarily stroked the P branded onto her right wrist. She was a pirate. Or at least branded as one forever.

The gypsy cast a glance up to the bar, but both Dibbs and his young nephew were gone. She bit her bottom lip in wonder. Something just wasn't right.

Jack pulled out 5 die from his pocket with a smile and tossed them on the surface of the table. Dulce picked them up and smoothed her hands over the cool ivory cubes.

"How's your luck, love?" the pirate prodded. "Luck is objective," the gypsy announced. Jack smiled again. "Well, luck has always seemed to follow you. Probably all those garlic cloves and rabbit feet and water stones and those other weird things you sell," he muttered. "But, how about a few games for old time's sake?"

They bet, and gambled, and the gypsy won. Every time. Jack sat back and watched her as she scooped his gold from the table into her small woven coin purse.

"I see your luck hasn't changed any." Jack stroked his braided beard goatee observantly. "Well, what many people don't often realize, is that luck is something that stays with you for life, it's something you're born with. Some people are just born unlucky. Like you." She smiled teasingly and the pirate lifted his chin defiantly. "So, then. Why do you sell your amulets if they won't do any good?" The gypsy shrugged. "Every little bit helps."

Jack suddenly straightened, and his eyes bore into the young woman, challenging her. "Dulcinea, how willing are you to depend on your luck?" he asked, eyes glittering with mischief. The gypsy cocked her head in wonder. "What do you mean?"

Jack pushed the dice over to her again.

"Well. Let's raise the stakes. If you win, I'll leave you alone and you can stay in Tortuga until you rot." He smiled deviously. "But if I win… you'll join me on my voyage. Savvy?"

Dulcinea frowned. Was she willing to bet everything she stood for on a game?

Finally, after a moment's thought, she set her chin and grabbed the dice, jingling them in her palm. She met eyes with the pirate and didn't turn from his gaze.

"Agreed."