(OT: My least favorite chapter so far. I skipped over quite a bit of the cannibal island in-between scenes, due to the fact that I don't think there are that many and I was finding it difficult to write about it. So there is only a little bit of Will's P.O.V. and definately not worthy of my previous ones in my opinion. Quite a bit of Elizabeth in this one. But the next chapter will entail: the ride to Tia Dalma's shack (Will), The Tortuga signals and whenever Elizabeth finds Norrington/Jack, and more than likely a conversation between Bootstrap and Will, or just Will's reflections on Bootstrap. These are just the hardest bits to write since they, for the most part, do show the progression of these scenes in the movie. All right, I will stop babbling. Enjoy!)

Elizabeth clambered into the sophisticated carriage, her teeth gleaming as her father clicked the door shut. She chewed on her lip as she contemplated her father's words. Will was completely reliable. He would return, but now, he would arrive to find her gone...To find that his beloved coasted to England to hide like a coward. She slammed her head against the velvet seats as Governor Swann slapped the reins across the equestrian's back, initiating movement. Within a few minutes, Elizabeth reached for the square-cut door, but was thrown back against the narrow wall when the carriage halted abruptly. She peered through the window cautiously, gazing into dim settings, a few lights illuminating the harbor.

"Evening, Governor." She heard the sound of Mercer's intimidating tone and scrambled to find the latch on the opposite side. "Shame, huh? He was carryin' this. It's a letter to the King. It's from you."

She glanced at the lifeless body that lay in a crumpled position on the dirt ground as she hunkered behind boxes of cargo. Elizabeth swiveled around to witness a mass of horses marching toward the scene. "Father..." she whispered feebly. She could do nothing for him, unless she intended on perishing at sunrise. The woman lifted her intricately constructed skirt as high as possible, revealing her abundant undergarments as she stepped on board a baby blue sloop. Plastering herself against the vessel's cabin, she watched her father constricted by iron shackles step into a carriage, his eyes searching for signs of his daughter. She sighed as the troops galloped into the distance. Elizabeth hesitantly trod toward the edge, but as she lifted one leg to step onto the docks, a sailor caught her arm.

"'ey, you! Girl! What are you doin' aboard this ship?"

"My apologies, Sir. I needed cover from my...Lady-maid. Please forgive me." She smiled slightly, shrugging her shoulders in hopeful forgiveness.

The sailor's eyebrow arched as he released her arm. "Next time I catch you on a vessel that don't belong to you I'll turn you into the EITC, I will."

She thanked him profusely and then scurried toward the East India Trading Company's office, picking her way through the corridors and trotting up the staircase with light footsteps. Elizabeth rapidly discovered the location of Lord Beckett's study and immediately rifled through his desk drawers, scouring the office for an item to bargain her freedom with. Yanking open the second drawer, a pistol ricocheted from the blow, clattering against the sides. She dipped the weapon inside of her bodice so that she could employ both hands, but the clipping of heels forewarned her of a poignant presence approaching. Finally confiscating the pardon, she surveyed the quarters, and after removing the pistol, Elizabeth slid into the shadows. Although the corset only allowed short breaths, she managed to breathe quietly. The man entered, his ebony vest dazzling in the moonlight. He gently set down the lantern and creaked open the little EITC logo container. She glided forward; perhaps she could slip out the door...

"No doubt you've discovered that loyalty is no longer the currency of the realm, as your father believes."

The woman did not quake as she rotated around and slithered forward, her hands behind her back, gripping the pistol and the pardon. "Then what is?" She asked smugly, already aware of the answer.

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Will Turner was heaved into the gritty bone cage, joining Gibbs and the crew with his face fixed in a grimace. He could not believe that Jack would do this; no matter what grounds their friendship stood on, no logical person would allow their acquaintance to succumb to this experience. The crew remained silent as two tribe members with sticks protruding from their nostrils lowered the cage near the other one, their eyes occasionally glancing to the plunging depth beneath them.

"How long will we remain here?" Will asked as he clasped the somewhat clammy structure.

"Until they are drawn by voracious hunger." Gibbs quickly replied, after carefully stepping on the bone lining to sidle beside Will. "They're cannibals, Will."

Mr. Turner sighed, eyeing the cliffs on either side. "Why would he do this to us? If Jack is their chief..." A plan was already formulating in his mind. Swing, swing, swing.

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Miss Swann scurried aboard a glorious merchant galleon, her heart thudding as the sun began to rise above the horizon, slowly shrouding the vessel. The cabin door was slung open and no one was in visible as she crept into the chamber. Elizabeth tenderly closed the door, knelt down, and sifted through an engraved chest. The woman detected pieces of a possible wardrobe and yanked stitched brown breeches, a gray vest, and a loose v-neck blouse from the chest. Shifting to a standing position, Elizabeth lifted the gown above her head. She then began to step out of her white fluffy bloomers and removed the knee-high stockings. Awkwardly twisting her arms, Elizabeth unfastened the corset, wrenching the blasted contraption off her chest. The woman stripped off the last of her undergarments and snatched the blouse, sliding it over her head and proceeding with the remaining pieces of clothing. After pinning her hair and sticking a straw hat on her head, she vibrated in celebration, enjoying the liberation from the sweat that trickled down her thighs when she wore those laden layers of clothing. Oh! It felt wonderful to be able to inhale a deep cleansing breath.

She slipped out the cabin door for a second time with her lady-like attire draped over her arm. The sun had initiated the strike of seven o'clock, and she strode to the railing of the ship and promptly released the mound of brilliant white underwear, giggling as it descended into the sea. If only she could see the face of the sailor or child who was bound to run across them! She then hoisted the golden gown into the light. What a pity to waste such a lovely article of clothing. Her father had repeatedly commented on the beauty; her father... She wondered what Lord Beckett had thrown toward him. The sound of footsteps forced her to inch it over the edge, not quite ready to let it go. Then, the footsteps grew louder, and she quickly chucked it behind a few boxes, slinging her arms across the railing as if it were a normal occurrence.

The man gazed at Elizabeth and then disregarded her presence, assuming, as she hoped, that she was a male sailor. The Edinburgh Trader's crew soon emerged from below, their expression prepared for a day of smooth sailing. The woman was quickly given a task, and she received it amiably, nodding to the quartermaster before slathering the railing with a strange substance. She chortled to herself as men feuded over her wedding dress, claiming that it belonged to a spirit. The silly minds of sailors. And if they knew that a woman was aboard, she would be cast into the sea immediately!

"Oh, and uh... She's probably naked." The captain advised, and Elizabeth dropped the brush into the tin can, her mind laughing at the notion. She followed the other men, mockingly scouring the ship for none other than herself.