Alex felt the pistol lowered from her temple. "200 Spanish Doubloons," He said smoothly, stepping over the inert body of Captain Orion Peril. Alex was unsure whether Peril was alive or dead, but at the moment she had more pressing concerns.

"A rip off," replied the stranger, a huge felt hat casting shadows about his dark face, "you said yourself murderesses are hard to sell."

"Well, that's your prerogative, innit?" The man eventually relented under the hard gaze of the potential buyer, "I'll give yer 150 for her, only because I'll be glad to be rid of her. I don't need her murdering any more of my patrons. It's bad for business… Mind you, he," Here the weasel-man prodded Captain Orion, "was bad news. Most of the women he bought in to be sold were in a right state of affairs…Now, where was I: the money?" He held out his palm and the dark man looked pained as he parted with his small bag of gold.

"Ah ah ah," The weasel-faced scolded, wagging his crooked finger back and forth,
"Not until I've counted the coins." He shuffled over to a brass weighing scale and set the cloth drawstring bag on the platform, considering it carefully. "All seems to be in order." He pocketed the coin-bag happily, "Right then, she's all yours. Enjoy Captain." He snickered, ambling past them. Alex pushed into him in defiance, knocking him against cell-bars. Instead of losing his temper, the weasel-man simply sighed longingly, "I was always fond of blondes. If you hadn't have killed that man, who knows what might have happened between us?" The weasel-face twitched in imagination as Alex's new owner twisted her hands behind her back and marched her down the corridor, the wheezing laughs of the old man echoing after them.

Alex was silent as she was pushed into a small carriage. She stared resolutely out the window, her mind working furiously as she planned her escape. The dark man slumped heavily into the seat opposite her, sighing loudly.

"You're a lot more trouble than you're worth, you know that? 150 Spanish Doubloons, what a joke. With you as scrawny as you are, I'm not even paying by the pound."

Alex turned in shock, gazing at the man and trying to identify him. With the broad hat, it was impossible to get a glimpse of his face.

"Do I know you?"

"Nay," came the reply, "Though Jack and Will might." Here the man pulled off his hat, revealing his face. It wasn't a man's face; it was a woman's. Brightly burning coals of eyes stared defiantly at Alex, coupled with a square jaw set determinedly firm and full lips pursed in annoyance.

"Who are you?" Alex asked.

"Anamaria. But for the moment ye can call me Captain." She snapped, her litting accent harsh and sharp, turning all 'I's' into 'a's'.

"You're just like bloody Jack. I'm not calling you 'Captain'." Alex replied in exasperation. Anamaria's eyes blazed.

"Ye will be referring to me as so, or I'll be taking ye back to the auction house." She growled. Alex held her ground.

"I didn't ask for your help and I didn't sign up for your crew, so I'll not be referring to you as 'Captain'." Anamaria drew in closer, her dark eyes blazing.

"Listen missy; I just spent 150 Spanish Doubloons saving your hide, though I barely know ye and would certainly be better off without ye. But you obviously are important to Jack and his crew, and you know things about this Drifting Maiden curse. So you're sticking around and you're making up that 150 to pay me back, understood? That was meant to pay for my new boat." The carriage drew to an abrupt halt at the docks, but Anamaria did not draw her eyes away from Alex's.

"I'm in nobody's debt," Alex hissed, tossing the same coin-bag Anamaria had given to the weasel-faced man earlier, "Buy your boat, and I hope it sinks halfway across the Atlantic." Alex spoke with malice, but Anamaria made no harsh remark.

"Where did ye get that from, garl?" Anamaria asked in astonishment, her hands clutching the coins like she didn't believe they were real.

"Pick-pocketed the weaselled one in the corridor. So perhaps I'm not completely useless, Captain. What ship are you 'Captain' of anyway?" Alex asked, clamouring out of the carriage. The Black Pearl loomed, in all its glory beside the dock.

"For the moment, I'm Captain of the Black Pearl." Anamaria chuckled, striding up the gangplank to the raucous cheers of Jack's crew. "He still hasn't paid off his debt; he owes me a ship."

"How come you get to be Captain?" Alex asked in sulky disbelief as she boarded after Anamaria. Anamaria's smile disappeared as she swung around to face Alex on deck.

"Do ye have a problem with me being Captain?" She challenged. "I rescued this crew and the ship from the gang of pirates that took ye, Jack and Will. They owe me their lives, for what miserable sum they're worth. Why would ye, a green-limbed whelping fresh from finishing school think ye possibly had a claim on this here ship?" Anamaria spat contemptuously.

"The only Captain the Black Pearl will sail for is Jack. And the only Captain I sail under is Jack. I won't sail with mutineers." Anamaria and Alex sized each other up as the rest of the crew looked on silently. It was a battle of the wills; two stubborn and fiery lasses come together on one deck. The whole ship wasn't big enough for the both of them. The whole ocean could barely peacefully accommodate the two. In was Anamaria that broke off the staring contest.

"Oh aye, fair's fair. You think I'm taking Jack's place?" Anamaria barked a laugh, "Tis no mutiny; I'm only acting Captain 'til we find Jack. He owes me a ship, but this one doesn't take my fancy." She barked an order to the crew to set sail.

"So Alex, do ye want to find Jack and return The Black Pearl to its rightful owner, or no?"