This chapter is, by my opinion, much closer to the caliber that I usually aim for-- nicely long, too, if I do say so myself. Thank goodness and hopefully this means that I'm back into the swing of things, eh? Oh, and I do have a disclaimer: neither of the shanties that Duncan sings are of my own invention. I don't know exactly who wrote them, but the credit does not go to myself. Read on, dears! Reviews would be appreciated.

...TanzFieber

"INDIAAAA HO!" Came the cry from the crow's nest, and it jolted the early morning calm that had settled over the Black Pearl. The sun was bright and new for the day, though already hot with the promise of a scorching afternoon if the pirates were confined to the decks of their ship. Each man was glad for the prospect of a respite in which they could cease being unwillingly bored passengers aboard a yacht and return to the piracy they had chosen.

Jack Sparrow stood at the railing of his bonny ship, drinking deep of the spicy India air that seemed to radiate from the coast along with waves of white heat. The gentle breeze at his back was pushing the Pearl ever-closer to the port city of Madras, lifting her on the shoulders of the Bay of Bengal. The pirate captain allowed himself a pleased gold-glinting grin as he allowed his mind to indulge in the riches that would be at his fingertips once he set foot on the cities docks. A ripe old hen, ready for plucking!

Meanwhile Kelsea Sparrow was up the mizzen-mast, tacking sail with a few of her crewmates. Feet wrapped in the footlines and the stiff breeze holding her nicely against the spar, the nimble seventeen-year-old found herself free to work with both hands. Somewhere nearby, Duncan was singing an old seafarer's shanty in that wheezy baritone of his.

"My clothes and shoes are all in pawn
Go down you blood red roses, go down!
And it's mighty drafty round Cape Horn
Go down you blood red roses, go down!
Oh you pinks and posies—
Go down you blood red roses, go down!"

Tugging and wrapping in time to the verses, the dark-haired teen found herself humming along with her shipmate and mouthing the words that she knew as well as the rest of them. Nobody could sing a good shanty like Duncan and it made the rough work easier to manage.

"It's round Cape Horn we've got to go
Go down you blood red roses, go down!
Chasing whales through ice and snow
Go down you blood red roses, go down!
Oh, you pinks and posies—
Go down you blood red roses, go down!"

He sang out lustily, tapping the dark wood of the Pearl's yardarm as he did. Suddenly, he became aware of the humming harmony to his left and cast a sideways glance at the girl perched beside him. Duncan gazed for a moment at the girl whose dark hair were whipping round her face in the wind and listened to her lend a pretty voice to the ditty. Knowing that here, on the back of a zephyr, she was happy… He smiled. It had been far too long since he had seen such an expression of carefree bliss on the girl's face. However, in his study of her features the man had unwittingly stopped his song and therefore it wasn't long before the subject of his gaze turned to look back.

Noticing that her friend had trailed off somewhere in the song, Kelsea took hold of a line and turned her face to the man who had stopped singing with a reproving look. Catching the odd/affectionate look he was giving her, the girl glared back expectantly.

"What?"

Duncan only continued his searching gaze and cocked his head to the side. "Y'know the words then, lass?"

Self-conscious and thinking that he was teasing her for singing aloud, she blushed and turned her attention back to the work at hand—a little too zealously because immediately there was a yelp of pain as she unintentionally wrenched a coil of rope as tight as she could with two fingers still beneath the loop. Hell's teeth--! What a blunderin' idiotic thing t'do… Blood squeezed out from lacerations on her knuckles as she shook the hand to quell the pain.

The pirate next to her only shook his grizzled head and reached over to check what damage the young buccaneer-ess had done to her digits. Forgetting himself for a moment as he took her more dainty hand in his own, Duncan spoke his thoughts aloud.

"Pride 'n pigheadedness t'match that've yer father, Kelsea Sparrow…" He murmured, and immediately felt her lithe form next to him stiffen.

At the words of her friend, Kelsea felt herself physically brace against the feelings—But then Duncan's hand was on her back, palm flat against the worn linen of her shirt, warm against the skin that had been chilled by constant breezes.

"Don' be afraid t'be yer father's daughter, lass… t'is who ye are an' somefin' t'be proud of, y'hear? I know yew two ain't been gettin' on as've late… but these earthly quarrels don' mean naught when it counts. Be angry wiv th'man if ye must—'tis yore own right—but Jack Sparrow is part o' ye as sure as those bleedin' fingers are." He tore off the hem of his shirt and blotted at the backs of her knuckles. "Which, by th'way, yer lucky ye haven't broken, ye silly pudden-headed whelp wot calls herself pirate!"

Kelsea didn't say anything for a moment—what was there really to say? He had managed to sum everything up in that simple way that he always had… the logic never failing to be sound, which unfortunately usually only made it more incensing. He was right, as usual… bothersome man! But after a few moments of her maddening whirligig-esque thinking, Duncan touched her arm lightly and regarded her with a wry smile.

"So, lass… About that song." He smiled, and to his relief she rolled her eyes and smiled back. "I knows ye know the words, young missy, so how 'bout ye join an' old salt in recallin' th'rest of 'em, eh? Got t'get these bloody black sails reeved afore we run aground in India!"

The girl looked down and swallowed, wondering if she dare sing out. Prideful an' pigheaded to match Jack Sparrow. Casting his own eyes aloft in mock exasperation at the girl's modesty, the shipmate tugged the canvas in his left hand taut and wound a length of rope around it to keep it flat on the spar. He worked with ease borne of many years on the briny, gnarled fingers as precise as a surgeon's. After a moment, the silence was broken again.

"Oh my old mother she wrote to me…"

Duncan smiled toothily at the sound of Kelsea's tentative voice before answering the call. "Go down you blood red roses, go down!"

"My darlin' son, come home from the sea!"

"Go down you blood red roses go down!"

"Oh, you pinks and posies—
Go down you blood red roses, go down!"

By now heaving away gamely on sail and lines so that they twanged in the bright morning light, the two shipmates laughed together and joined up for the last verse with energy bursting.

"Oh it's one more pull and that'll do
Go down you blood red roses, go down!
For we're the bullies to kick her through
Go down you blood red roses, go down!
Oh, you pinks and posies—
GO DOWN YOU BLOOD RED ROSES, GO DOWN!"

And the wings of the Black Pearl were furled, lashed down tight, made fast as only two true sailors could make them. Singing the last chorus at the top of her voice, Kelsea was suddenly filled with the playful vigor that she had thought lost since the day of Joshamee Gibbs' death—and she leapt to her feet.

"LASS—'AVE YE GONE MAD—?"

And it was a fair question, for the dark-haired siren of a girl had not merely stood up with her feet in the footlines, she had jumped clear out of them to land sure-footed on the top of the spar! Grasping the line with one hand, Kelsea Sparrow splayed the other one out to the side and felt sure she was about to lift clear off the yard and soar above the Pearl like a kite. She closed her eyes and for the first time in a while, allowed pure and unadulterated joy to flow through her veins. She was young, she was alive, and it felt bloody good!

"YO HO, YO HO, A BLEEDIN' PIRATES LIFE FOR ME!" She crowed, her effervescent voice loud enough to disturb a seagull that flapped disgruntledly past. Duncan the crewman laughed heartily and shook his head at her antics. The whelp was completely and utterly bats… Oh t'be young again!

Far below on the dark-wooded decks of the Black Pearl, Jack Sparrow heard the commotion and turned his attention aloft. The sight that met his curious gaze made his heart both lift and skip a few beats in the same moment—His daughter was balanced precariously on one of his ship's halyards, obviously without a pressing concern for holding on tightly, and with every gust the breezes seemed poised to pluck the girl from her perch—and so the captain felt the noose of worry tighten around his stomach—And yet, the raw jubilation that filtered down through the wind-singing rigging from the tiny figure above was enough to brighten any man's spirits.

She's happy… Jack thought with a jolt, especially surprised because he had many times despaired of ever hearing such laughter from the seventeen-year-old again. Bloody daft, o' course… but happy.

The pirate captain turned back to the sight of an upcoming coast-line, singing and laughter still ringing loud from above.

ANCHOR WEIGHED IN MADRAS, INDIA…

"Alrigh' lads, we'll go in shifts—ten men t'th'watch at a time, the rest free t'go ashore. Every twenny-four hours those on board'll ring th'bell thrice an' the next shift 'o ten must return t'relieve ship's watch." Jack stared around at the eager faces of his crew as they nodded in understanding. "Haven' yet decided how long this whimsical 'oliday is goin' t'last, so ye lucky buckoes are t'keep up rotation of duty. Savvy?"

A chorus of 'aye's rang out and the captain smiled, gesturing wide at the rich coastline behind his figure.

"'Tis settled then, eh? Divide yerselves into groups 'o ten an' draw straws t'see who stays wiv me Pearl tonight."

Ten minutes later, Jack Sparrow found himself with ten less men standing in front of him— those who had been picked had slouched off grumpily to their posts. "'Ave ye worked out th'schedule then, mates? Lovely. Ah, well then I s'pose there's only one thin' left t'say… T'THE BOATS, GENTS!"

And the crew of the Black Pearl let out a round of 'huzzah's and set to heaving away at the long-boats, lowering them enthusiastically to the water and clambering in. Never one to let his men do all of the work, Jack sat himself at midship and reached for the oar—but another set of hands closed around the shaft just as his own did.

"Oh, er. Sorry, Cap'n Sparrow…" And Jack found himself staring into a pair of dark eyes that matched his own. He let go of the oar as if it had bitten him, and it clunked to the bottom of the boat because Kelsea had dropped it just as quickly.

Awkward silence blossomed between them like blood from a wound, before suddenly a new man had stepped between them.

"Allow me, lass—Cap'n," called Duncan cheerfully as he sat down at the oarlock. "Oi, Kursar!" He hailed the pirate seated across from him to begin rowing.

Both now out of a job, the Sparrow duo stared at each other for another moment before the sudden lurch forward of their longboat nearly sent them both over in a heap. Kelsea sat down hard and Jack mumbled some incoherent excuse before making his way to stand in the front.

Bugger… lamented Jack as he took up his heroic pirate captain pose with one knee up in the bow. How much longer could this discomfort go on--?

"Away-o, away-o, now bend yore backs an' heave ho!" Duncan was singing again, and the men in each boat joined in with gusto as they pulled for the shore.

ON THE SHORES OF MADRAS, INDIA…

"Don' bloody ferget t'switch watch, ye scurvy dogs!" Captain Sparrow shouted at the backs of his crew. They had beached the boats and secured them to stout palms that lined the shores, and now each man was wasting no time in reaching the bustling port city. Believing himself alone, Jack turned back to the sight of his beautiful dark ship floating on the water and doffed his hat off to her with a leggy bow.

"Wait fer me, my lady… I'll be back afore ye know it."

"Cap'n… who're ye talkin' to?"

The pirate captain nearly fell out of his bow and onto his face at the sound of a vaguely amused female voice, and whirled around to find the dark-featured Kelsea crouched by one of the longboats and eyeing him with a fair amount of confusion.

"Kelsea—! What… How… What're ye doin' here!" he spluttered, rather jumpy from the fact that she had startled him, and embarrassed for he usually didn't talk to his ship in the presence of others.

Still giving him that strange look, the girl held up the coil of rope she was working with and motioned to the boat at her feet. "Tyin' off th'last boat, Cap'n Sparrow, jus' like ye ordered."

"Jus' like I…" he trailed off, before replacing his hat on again and wiping the sheepishness from his features. "Right. Well, I'll finish th'job, yer free t'take off after the crew."

"Oh. Alright." And she got to her feet, brushing the sand from her hands and knees before handing her captain the line. He took it from her without a glance, immediately busying himself with the tying of knots overly-complicated for the task at hand. Kelsea rolled her eyes at his hunched figure and sighed before turning on her heel and making her own way towards the busy port.

Peering around furtively to check that she was on her way, Jack found himself watching her retreating figure. She walked a rolling walk, graceful yet unstable, as if she were navigating the decks of a tempest-tossed ship—She walked the Jack Sparrow walk. Shaking his dread-locked head and sighing a sigh of his own, the pirate captain mumbled under his breath a request for another of his ladies—

"Fate an' fortune protect ye, Kelsea Sparrow… Be careful, Luv."

Jack Sparrow finished with his knots and began a slower trek up the beach—walking a rolling walk, graceful yet unstable, as if he were navigating the decks of a tempest-tossed ship.

IN THE BUSTLING PORT OF MADRAS, INDIA…

"FRESH FEESH! CAUGHT TODAY OFFA DESE VERY SHORES!"

"I'LL TAKE TWO, MATE!"

Kelsea Sparrow ducked just in time as a huge silver mackerel went soaring overhead, sent on its way by an Indian street-vender. As it was, the fish brushed by her shoulder and left a streak of scales on her sleeve. Bloody Hell, what kind of place WAS this--?

Never having sailed anywhere beyond the Caribbean Sea, which was vast enough in itself, the girl was taking in this port of Madras, India like a whole new world. The layout of a marketplace along the shores was a familiar enough layout for the young lady pirate, but the contents and process of selling was a new thing entirely.

Sales pitches, fish, accusations, packets of spices, money, fruit, and all other manner of things flew fast and furious through the air—and the din of it all was fantastically overcoming.

So entranced by the newness of her surroundings, the seventeen-year-old completely forgot that two fish were meant for the man behind her, not just one.

"OI!"

But the warning came too late—the second shiny mackerel collided with the side of her face in an explosion of scales in the air and stars in front of her eyes. Reeling from the blow, the girl stumbled backward a few steps—right into the waiting grasp of the man whom the fish was intended for.

"What's in yer 'ead, ye daft liddle fool—? Ye've gone an' ruined a perfectly good fish!" He shook her by the scruff of her neck before turning to the vender again. "One more, mate, this one ain't no good no more!"

However, the man behind the cart was shaking his head with a less than friendly smile. "Sorry, my friend, deal 'as been done—zat feesh was over 'alf way to you! I 'ave completed my part of zis bargain."

"But I paid ye fer TWO, ye cheatin' scoundrel!"

"Apologies, my friend—t'was not ze fault of Aziz zat zis liddle girl got in ze way." And the man who called himself Aziz went back to his cart.

Kelsea Sparrow gasped as the grip on the back of her neck tightened and she found herself looking up into the face of a none-too-happy merchant sailor. "Ye cost me a dinner wot I already paid for, ye bloody gutter waif! I'll teach yer a lesson ye won' likely ferget!"

Unfortunately for the man, he didn't know whom or what he was dealing with—Kelsea Sparrow was no gutter waif. As he raised his hand to strike her across the face, she stomped on his foot and elbowed him in the stomach.

"OOF—!" He gasped, doubling over in pain before lunging towards her, bellowing like an enraged bull. Nimbly sidestepping his charge, the dark-haired teen neatly tripped her adversary—sending him headlong into the fish cart.

CRAAASH!

Fish slid off of the demolished stand and into the street, glistening in the bright sunlight as dust settled on top of them. People in the street scooped some of the runaway mackerel up, tipping their hats to the girl who had caused the spill. The man in the wreckage lay groaning, and the street-vender was doing an enraged dance amongst his ruined goods.

"AI! YOU 'AVE RUINED ME!" he shouted, then lapsing into a language that certainly wasn't English as he continued his angry hopping. Kelsea raised her hands placatingly, backing up a few steps.

"Sorry, mate… See, m'knew t'this town an' t'was an accident, really—" she began, but was cut off by more cursing and the sound of a blade being whipped from its sheath.

"New to Madras? T'will be ze first an' last visit, girl!" shouted Aziz, and he swung a curved scimitar high in the hazy morning light.

"Not good." Mumbled the teenaged pirate, eyes wide as she realized that apologies weren't exactly what this crazed merchant was looking for. Wondering how she was going to get herself out of this particular mess, Kelsea began backing up more rapidly and looking for a way out of the packed market place. Finding no other exit through the tightly-hemmed in crowd, she finally drew her own sword. "Alrigh' then, mister, I'll 'ave ye!"

But the fight was not to be, for at that moment the sound of synchronized boots pounding the cobbled streets could be heard, heralded by a shrill whistle—someone had alerted the authorities to the trouble brewing in the marketplace.

MEANWHILE AT A DIFFERENT VENDER…

"'Aven't ye got anythin'… smaller?" Jack Sparrow was holding out his hands in front of him, each finger bedecked with a different gaudy ring.

The jewelry vender who was watching the captain with shifty eyes shrugged his shoulders in a non-helpful way. "Why does ze pirate want someting smaller when zose rings all fit?"

"Because, mate," he blew a frustrated breath from between gold-capped teeth. "S'not fer me, 'tis fer someone else. Someone wiv smaller hands.

"Ah, for ze pirate's lady suitor, yes?"

"Not exactly." Jack thought of what Kelsea's fiery indignance would be at being referred to as one of his lady suitors and had to stifle a chuckle. "'Tis fer me daughter."

However, whether or not the man had something that would fit a young woman's hands became inconsequential, because just then a stampede of red-coated soldiers herded past. One of them stopped and spun Jack around roughly.

"You there, which way to the fish market?" The young man demanded brusquely, and the pirate merely pointed in a direction that would lead them far away from himself. Nodding, the soldier unwittingly let go of the coat of the most notorious pirate on the Spanish Main and marched off with his small battalion. "Down this way, men!"

Fully amazed that he had just been casually released, Jack Sparrow patted himself all over as if to check if he was really still there and not about to be arrested. Bloody stupid redcoat! Must've been a green whelp of an officer, not to notice who had just been questioning! Smiling widely at his luck, the pirate captain swaggered off in the direction not taken by the soldiers, pocketing every ring that he still wore from the vender's cart.

AT A WRECKED FISH STALL…

The crowd had formed an impenetrable circle, closed on all sides except for the one gap that enforcers of the Crown were now streaming through.

"Bugger…" Kelsea stood tall in the center of the circle, sword drawn, with nothing to do but glare defiantly at the men who had her surrounded.

Young Captain Greenley of the East India Trading Company took in the scene in a glance. What was all the trouble, then? From what he could tell there wasn't a scuffle, just a pretty young woman standing in the center of the crowd. She does have a sword… He noticed, the well-used blade catching his eye. But what pretty maid could use a blade? And what a beautiful girl she was, too… Feeling secure in his control of the situation, and even thinking that perhaps he could impress the young lady, the captain spoke out in his most commanding tone.

"Alright, Milady, we've got you surrounded! No need to be frightened, just put up your weapon and we'll get this all sorted out!" It was the same inexperienced captain of the guard that had let Jack go earlier, but Kelsea didn't know this. She did, however, notice that he was being daft in asking her to put up her blade and also in calling her milady—couldn't he see that she was a pirate? The girl rolled her eyes and stood her ground.

"Rather not, mate, thanks."

"I'll not ask you again, Miss, surrender your weapon and come quietly or I will be obligated to have these brave men subdue you forcefully!"

"Look, Cap' Ninny Whatsyourface, stop callin' me 'miss' an' stop expectin' me t'comply wiv yer nicey-nice requests. As fer those brave men havin' t'subdue me… I'd like t'see any one of 'em try!" She knew it was a stupid thing to say, and that going quietly would have probably been the better option, but her fighting spirit was aroused. Daft like Jack.

As could be expected, 'Cap'n Ninny Whatsisface' hadn't taken too kindly to the new nickname. His face reddened to the color of his coat, and he pointed disgruntledly at the cheeky young lady who had taunted him. "THAT'S ENOUGH! MEN, RELIEVE THE GIRL OF HER SWORD AN' CLAP 'ER IN IRONS!"

Seventeen-year-old Kelsea Sparrow stood her ground coolly, dark eyes flashing, sword point ready to engage. "C'mon then, me lucky buckoes!"

IN A TAVERN NOT TOO FAR AWAY…

"Would ye be so kind as t'serve me two rums, Luv?" Jack leaned on the bar and roguishly winked at the busty maid who was wiping the counter with a rag. Giggling flirtatiously, the girl in question gave him the once over. Ooh, what a devilishly handsome stranger!

"Aye, depends on who's askin'…" She batted her eyelashes coyly. Used to this game, the pirate flashed one of his most striking grins and examined his fingernails carelessly.

"Cap'n Jack Sparrow, at yer service."

"Captain Jack Sparrow… Donchya know I believe I may 'ave heard of ye…" The barmaid simpered, leaning over languidly to pull two mugs off of the rack and fill them from a keg of rum.

"Z'at so? Well, seems we've got somethin' in common already, an' seein' as how ye already know me name… What's yers, Luv?" Hah, he had her eating out of his palm… Nobody could resist Jack Sparrow when he turned on the charm. Jack reached over and grasped her hand, bringing it to his lips in a terribly dashing maneuver.

He never heard the name, because just then someone shoved by him roughly.

"Oof—! OI! WATCH WHO YER PUSHIN, YE MANGY CAD!"

The man who had originally bumped him only waved a hand dismissively as he continued on his way. "Mangy cad yerself! Ye were takin' up th'entire passage!

"Well where're ye goin' in such a bleedin' hurry?" Jack demanded with a scowl—He had to remember that he wasn't in the Caribbean… not everyone knew of his reputation in India.

"T'the fishmonger—Word is there's some pretty, dark-haired pirate lass given' the pride o' th'British Navy a good drubbin'!"

A pretty dark-haired pirate lass fighting the redcoats--? Jack's heart suddenly leapt into his throat. Chances were there wouldn't be TWO raven-haired short-tempered female pirates running around in Madras at the same time... "Kelsea..." He mumbled, and then was running for the door, pushing all manner of patrons out of his way as he went.

"Captain, what about yer drinks--!" Called the barmaid after him, thoroughly annoyed at the departure of the beautiful newcomer… But he was already out into the street.

Jack Sparrow ran as he hadn't run in a long time—ran as if the Kraken were chasing him through the cobbled and crowded streets. If Kelsea were trying to fight off the entire Navy by herself—and she probably was, the hot-headed whelp—he had to get to her before she got herself captured or worse…

The masses began to thicken as the pirate got closer to the fishy part of the marketplace, and as he did he could hear the sounds of cheering, laughter, cursing... and above all of that, the ringing clashes of a swordfight.

"OI! OUTTA ME WAY YE SLACK-JAWED IDIOTS! LET ME THROUGH—!" he grunted, elbowing and shouldering his way through the tightly packed viewers of the scuffle. Despite his best efforts though, Jack found himself virtually unable to reach the center of the circle. Turning the air blue with his cursing, the pirate captain glanced around himself, kohl-lined eyes searching for a solution.

And then he saw them—draperies hanging from a balcony that overlooked the marketplace! Jack's mind settled on those pieces of fabric, and in a thrice, he had boosted himself up on the shoulders of the men to either side, stepped on a few others on his way towards his goal (ignoring the angry shouts of the people he was stepping on) and made a desperate leap towards those drapes.

"Thanks fer th'lift, mates!" He called out, by now swinging from that balcony like a pendulum. Tightening his grip grimly, Jack Sparrow now went hand over hand up towards the platform above him. After a few exhausting moments of climbing, bejeweled fingers caught the wooden planking, knuckles turning white with the weight they were supporting.

"Mmph—!" the pirate captain of the Black Pearl grunted in exertion, but by some supreme act of willpower, he pulled his body up and onto the balcony. Gasping for a moment, Jack nonetheless staggered to his feet and turned his attention to the scene below… and his stomach once again gave a nasty jolt.

THE REASON FOR JACK SPARROWS SUDDEN STOMACH ACHE…

"SOMEBODY GRAB HER, FOR CHRISSAKE! SHE'S JUST A GIRL!" By now Captain Greenley had lost all of his powdered-wig-stiff-upper-lip composure, and was leaping about in agitation, shouting at his men who were by now reluctant to engage their feminine foe.

Panting lightly, Kelsea Sparrow still stood her ground in the middle of the circle, the ground around her a bit red and strewn with the groaning men who had tried fruitlessly to capture the lithe pirate. "Aye, she is justa girl, lads! What be th'problem, then? Pride o' th'King's Navy, is it? C'mon ye lily-livered men o' th'crown!"

Spurred on by the taunting, a young soldier known only as Jenkins charged into the ring with his sword raised—not two moments later coming charging back out of the circle with his knuckles laid open to the bone and no weapon to speak of.

The bane of their existence, the wily dark-haired siren, laughed loudly and curtsied prettily. "Ah, gents, ye give up too easy!" Blood boiling and the fighting fire burning brightly in her heart, Kelsea felt purely invincible.

Unbeknownst to the girl, her father was taking in all of this from a balcony above the market.

Daft stupid pinheaded fool! Jack thought exasperatedly, as he watched her arrogant antics in the clearing below. Damn to hell that ego of hers! But he did have to grudgingly admit a sense of fierce pride and admiration as he watched her repel three more soldiers with seemingly no more trouble than it took to swat at annoying flies. That's my girl. "Give 'em Hell an' vinegar, lass…" He mumbled under his breath.

But then something else caught his attention, something that suctioned his heart and stomach alike all the way up into his throat—Another squadron of soldiers were coming down a different alleyway towards the clearing with bayonets held at the ready! They would be coming up behind her… she wouldn't see them in time…

Jack thought of calling out a warning, but realized with dismay that even if she did know they were coming, she wouldn't be able to take ona score of men all at once. Mind whirling, the pirate captain of the Black Pearl could only watch as the pincer-movement of red-coated men moved closer and closer to his unaware daughter.