The midday sun rose high over the open ocean, glaring down upon the men below. The crew of the Flying Dutchman worked tirelessly, making sure every rope was secure and every inch of the deck was tidy. Atop a flight of stairs, with a hand firmly placed on the wheel was its captain, William, or as he's commonly known, Will Turner. He had been a full-fledged pirate for eleven years, and now had a ship and a crew to call his own. He treasured every moment on the open water, and the freedom that came with it. However, not even the love of the sea could mend the hole that was once filled with love for a certain woman. He was convinced that Elizabeth Swann was the one for him, and that she shared the same feelings. Oh what a shock it was that she had pledged her heart to someone else. Now he roamed the seas, searching for something that would once again fill that void. Engrossed in thought, he barely noticed someone shouting below him.
"Captain!"
Shaking his head to clear it, he moved forward, his black boots clunking on the sturdy wood of the deck.
"What is it lads?" he asked curiously.
"There, sir, a few feet yonder. A piece of debris it looks like, but with nothing to come from…. no wreckage or nothing."
Now even more curious, Will reached for the telescope hanging from his belt and looked into it. What he thought to be a piece of clothing floating on top of the wood was actually a woman, and a young one at that. One thing was clear; she needed help. Without thinking, he stripped his belt and jumped in after her. After a long afternoon in the harsh sun, the cool water was a welcome change. He shot through the water like a dolphin, speeding toward the unconscious girl. While some of the crew anxiously looked on, some cast a few lines to ensure their captain's- and the girl's- safe return to the ship.
Within moments, Will was beside the girl, scooping her into his arms. She was impossibly light, wearing nothing but a white shift. Whether she was alive or not, he didn't know for sure. For the oddest reason, he felt frantic. He didn't know this girl at all, and yet he was so keen on saving her life. With one free hand, he grasped a rope and held on tightly. Due to an able-bodied crew, he and the girl were shot into the air, with Will landing firmly on his feet. Instantly the crew gathered around, pleased to finally have some excitement on this aimless voyage. Will knelt quickly, placing the girl below him. Once again without thought, he began pumping her chest, his eyes filled with determination and purpose. After every ten beats, he leaned forward and blew into her mouth, eager to find any source of response. Finally, after much work, he was rewarded for his efforts when she began coughing and sputtering mouthfuls of water out. The crew sent up a hearty cheer, praising their captain for another successful rescue. Now they circled even closer, eager to inspect their new guest, who had now begun to open her eyes.
The first thing Alanna heard when she came to was the sound of a thousand men cheering above her. She heaved great gasps of air, only to realize it tasted faintly of salt water. Afraid of what she might see, she slowly opened her eyes. The face she found herself staring into was like something out of a fantasy. The famous Will Turner, his face tanned by the sun, was looking worriedly down at her. She blinked a few times to make sure she wasn't hallucinating. Sure enough, he was real, down to the boots that rested on his feet. Smiling at him, for which he was clearly relieved, she took in every detail. She started with his hands, one of which was grasping her own. They felt warm to the touch, even though they had come straight from the water. As her gaze traveled up, her eyes lingered along his torso. He wore a simple white shirt, the sleeves now fluttering in the breeze. The neck opened, revealing his bare chest. It too was tanned, hardened by many year's exertions aboard the ship. Looking upward still, she inspected his elegant neck, leading up to his chiseled jaw line. As expected, he still had the famous goatee and sideburns that sent girls swooning. Inches above his high cheekbones were his dark brown eyes, glowing from the sunlight. His brown hair was pulled back, though a few strands were brought forward, drops of water dripping from them. Behind him, white sails billowed magnificently, looking transparent in the sun's glory. The drops from his hair splashed onto Alanna's face, bringing her out of her awed trance.
"Are you alright, miss?"
Not trusting her voice, she simply nodded.
"I think she may be a mute, sir," one of the crewmembers commented.
That was enough for her to regain her courage. "I can talk, you know," she said defensively, though she still coughed a bit. "Or do you expect someone to keep up a hearty conversation after they've just been brought back to life?" This last was said with a shy glance toward Will. Surprised, the man opened and closed his mouth several times, while his comrades chuckled next to him.
"I think that's quite enough, lads. The excitement is over. Back to work!"
Grudgingly they turned back to their tasks, although a few stole a glance or two in Alanna's direction. When he was confident they were once again busy, he turned to Alanna, smiling apologetically.
"Forgive them their rudeness," he said. "Nothing has happened in these parts lately and they're eager for some excitement."
"I see," Alanna murmured, still dazed.
"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked, propping her up to a sitting position. "You're looking, um…pale."
This was a lie, considering she was just now regaining most of her color. She grinned, yet her eyes still darted around her.
"Forgive my, uh, bluntness sir," she apologized. "But where am I…exactly?"
Will smiled despite himself. He could already tell she was meant to be aboard his ship. The reason he wasn't quite sure. A coy idea struck him, and he grinned.
"I'll tell you where you are," he said, lifting her effortlessly. "If you tell me where you came from."
The sudden huskiness in his voice was both flattering and dangerous. Only then did she realize she was in the arms of a pirate, not to mention helpless. Perhaps he wasn't the man she thought he was.
"Sir I can assure you," she mumbled, trying to keep the panic from her voice. "I am no one of consequence. I'm unsure of how I got here, but I'm sure I can rectify that."
"Really now?" he said playfully, still keeping up his charade. "Well, since I don't see that happening anytime soon, I suppose I'll answer your question."
With that, he set her down, though still supporting most of her weight. They were now towards the stern, with the wheel in plain view.
"You, or I should say we are sailing just off the coast of Port Royal, an island of the Caribbean Ocean. This fine vessel you find yourself on is the Flying Dutchman."
Despite her fear, Alanna gaped, now fully taking in her surroundings. She was on a ship; she had confirmed that due to the constant rocking under her feet. But she hardly dreamed of sailing on the fabled Dutchman. She was truly a magnificent thing to behold, with a wide deck and five gigantic sails. Before her, the wheel shown in its own brilliance, the handles well oiled from many hands gripping it. She turned to Will once more, a curious look on her face.
"And just who might you be, then?" she asked, although she already knew the answer.
Will grinned again. She was matching his parry blow by blow. With a slightly warmer tone than before, he replied," William Turner, miss, the captain of the Flying Dutchman. And you are?"
Alanna smiled more easily, but struggled to meet his eyes since he still had his hand firmly around her waist.
"Alanna Livingston, sir. At your service."
With another dazzling smile, he released her gently before bowing graciously in front of her.
"Well Ms. Livingston, on behalf of me and my crew, welcome to the Caribbean."