"What's this doing here?" The teenage girl from the day before asked, looking at Teague. She stood in front of him with her hands on her hip and a look of annoyance on his face. "Bad enough we've got one brat onboard. Don't need another."

"Alice, be nice." The Captain said as he walked over. He was a tall man. He had auburn hair and bright blue eyes. He wore the usual clothing of a sailor under a beautiful dark jacket and a hat. A very elegant hat with beautiful large feathers. "Stop calling Hector a brat. He's your brother."

Alice rolled her eyes. "I don't need you or the little parasite." She stated. "If it weren't for the fact that Mom sent me to live with you, I could be happy."

"So…Edward Teague's your name boy?" The Captain asked, turning his attention to Teague. "I take it there's no relation to Teach?"

"Who?"

The Captain nodded. "Can't have a child watching a child though. You can either help Alice in the kitchen or you can scrub the deck."

Teague took one more look at Alice, who glared at him. His first thought was the fact that she probably knew where every knife was in the kitchen and already had several ideas of how to slaughter him. He had a feeling that she's had practice. "I'll get started on the scrubbing then."

The Captain nodded. "On with it then Master Teague." He walked on.

"I'm watching you." Alice threatened as she followed the Captain.

"I'd stop smiling, I were you." A man warned Teague. He was older than him and looked like any other young sailor. "Unlike most women, she aint gonna take kindly to you thinkin' 'bout 'er."

"Then I hope she'll appreciate that she's not in my thoughts." Teague replied. ""Master Teague". I like the sound of it."

"Ya like it now. Af'er a few more times hearin' 'im bark it ya'll learn to hate it." The man held his hand out to Teague. "Grant Sparrow."

Teague took Grant's hand. "Edward Teague." He gave it a firm shake, grateful to have a friend. It seemed like a good sign. The first day on board the Valkyrie and he's already made a friend.

Then Grant gestered at the empty space behind him. "Those are Adam, John, and Luke. They don't talk to others much."

Teague nodded, unsure of what to say.

Grant took a good look at him. "No need ta look like that. Ya got a deck that needs scrubbing."

As it turned out, scrubbing the deck also meant running other errands for the crew, such as fetching more rope. By the end of the day, Teague was exhausted. Grant found him resting behind a conveniently placed bunch of barrels and sat down next to him with two bowls. Teague couldn't remember the last time he was as happy for food.

"Ya think this is bad? Ya should've seen the Nest before my ol' man died, God bless 'im." Grant said. "Doin' all that work and serve drinks ta bastards that don't pay."

"Sounds dreadful." Teague said between bites. He was sure he was eating some sort of stew, but was eating too fast to say what was in it.

Grant nodded. "My younger sister took over and God knows how she did it. Straightened them out good. She makes 'nough ta pay off our family's debt by 'erself! Can ya believe it? The Nest makes in one month what I wish we'd get paid by the end of this."

"Your sister?"

"Aye, my sister. She ain't much like me though. Danny was raised by our Mom in England before she was sent ta us. Got caught stealing from some wealthy folks." Grant was very proud of his little sister. "She can read and write and cook. She runs the only tavern in Tortuga by 'erself, but she can't sew. She tried makin' me a shirt once. Not sure what it ended up being. Weren't no shirt though…."

Teague thought for a moment of the girl he met the day before, who told him where to find the Nest, and thought that maybe looks could really be deceiving.

"C'mon. I'll show ya where the galley is."

Through the next few weeks, Teague met more of the crew. They were curious about the strange teenager who seemed to have been born to sail. Teague found the men to be an interesting group as well. While Alice didn't quite like him, she accepted his presence onboard the ship as long as he wasn't near her or her little brother.

Two months passed before Teague saw Hector again.

He was sent to the cargo hold to get a bottle of rum for the Captain and found the boy watching the chickens in a cage. The little boy just sat there watching the chickens. Teague didn't understand it. "Are you alright?"

"I wanna name them but Alice won't let me. She says namin' your food aint right." Hector replied. He looked up at Teague. "Don't tell her I did."

"You did?" Teague asked worriedly. He hoped that the five year old knew that he'd eventually be eating these birds. Teague doubted he did. But it felt wrong to shatter his dream. So, he kneeled down next to him. "What's their names?"

Hector excitedly turned back to the cage and started introducing them. "That one's Maria. That one's Amelia. The one on in the corner's Lily. The one with the messed up leg's Limps cause it limps. The fluffed up one's Miss Clucks cause she's the loudest….

Teague spent the next two minutes listening to the child naming the chickens, wondering if he'd ever be able to eat chicken again. "So why are you naming them?"

"Cause friends have names." Hector replied quietly. "I don't like lots of people. I like being down here with the chickens."

"I gotta go. Your father wants his rum." Teague said, realizing how long he'd been down there. He walked on into the rum locker, grabbed a bottle, and came back out. Already, Hector looked lonely. "If you want, you can talk to me anytime." Hector nodded happily, then Teague left him with the chickens.

That night, Teague was brought to the Captain's Cabin to discuss a possible promotion. They talked about Teague's skills over dinner.

That night, they ate Amelia the chicken.

First off, sorry about the delay. My computer gave up on me and the screen stopped working. I lost all of my music, most of my pictures, and all of the unsaved updates to the fanfics.

Grant Sparrow. What can I say about him? I like him. I'll write about him more later...

You've no idea how long I spent trying to figure out how to write about five year old Hector Barbossa. Seriously, he is not easy to write about.

I (sort of) named Amelia the chicken after myself.