A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed! I hope you all enjoy this chapter :)

Chapter III

As I leapt from the ship, I couldn't help but see Barbossa's reasoning: Tortuga truly was a place of utter chaos. There were limp bodies littering the muddy roads, and it was difficult to tell whether or not the poor souls were even alive.

What struck me the most, however, was not the sheer number of drunken sailors – no, I had seen much of this sort of thing before. It was the abundance of women that shocked me. I had never actually seen one in person, but I'd heard many a story about them. These creatures were the subjects of many maritime ballads and yet they were unbelievably rare to encounter at sea – legendary, even. I'd spent much time wondering how it was that women and mermaids could look so similar (from the waist up, at least) and yet be so different.

Some of ladies (I fear this may not be the correct terminology) were beautiful in an illusionary sort of way, with painted faces and elaborate hairstyles, but others were rather grotesque. However, I was not so naïve as to not know that the prettier women were most definitely engaged in some sort of profession that was considered less-than-respectful.

I attempted to clumsily tiptoe around the filth in the streets with my exposed feet, but with limited success. Eventually, I gave up and decided that I would wash them later. That is, if I even could. I still didn't quite understand how the legs-tail transformation thing worked. I knew that I had to be submerged in water in order for my tail to return, but it seemed that the water also had to be of a certain depth. Alas, I was sure that I would have plenty of opportunities to test this theory. Sooner rather than later, I hoped, because I was utterly disgusting. Days in the brig hadn't been kind to me. My face was smeared with dirt and my hair was a proper rat's nest. Having spent nearly my entire life up to this point in the sea, I was unaccustomed to the feeling of being dirty. I'd now come to the firm conclusion that being clean was a much more pleasant sensation.

I'd only just escaped the boatyard when men started propositioning me (as they would do to nearly anyone of the female species, regardless of profession or appearance) outside the numerous taverns. At least, I thought they were taverns; in retrospect, they might have been brothels, in which case their requests were hardly surprising.

However, I simply ignored them and didn't come across too much trouble – most of the men were too drunk to be intimidating, which I was greatly thankful for. Alcohol truly was the stuff of miracles.

After about fifteen minutes of walking, however, my luck ran out.

A man began speaking (or, rather, slurring) to me in a predictable manner: " 'Ey there, love. Wotcha doin' walkin' around 'ere alone at night? T'ain't safe, 'specially not fer a gal like you – here, lemme walk ye home…"

"No thank you," I replied delicately without looking at him. I found that if I didn't make eye contact with them, they would give up.

But this man had more determination than the others. "If ye don' want to go home," he persisted, "why don' ye come wit' me…" He grabbed my arm. Not roughly, per say, but he'd still initiated physical contact and I was beginning to grow worried.

I snapped my eyes up to look at him, and I was surprised by what I saw. Instead of some old, fat man, my harasser was a young, fit one. He was dirty, to be sure, like everyone else on this godforsaken rock, but not as much of a mess as I'd anticipated. This only served to further unnerve me.

"Please, sir," I said politely, subtly trying to tug my arm out of his grasp, "I'm not what you think. I just want to get home, so if you'd kindly…"

"You ain't goin' nowhere, pet."

He grinned broadly as he pulled me against his chest. This was when my instincts were forced into gear; he began running his hands along my waist as I struggled against his grip.

"Stop!" I shouted angrily. I could feel my temper flaring dangerously. If he had any idea what I could do to him…

But he simply continued his lewd exploration of my figure. I felt very strange about the whole thing – I was upset, but I wasn't fearful, per say. The thought of my "virtue being compromised," as it were, was not something that particularly bothered me. I hadn't been raised with the chaste Puritan values that dominated human society – quite the contrary, in fact. I was taught to seduce men (and then kill them, but that was secondary…). No, I was upset because I was helpless. I was used to people touching me, but I wasn't used to them overpowering me.

"Oi there, mate," said another voice, "I think the lady asked ye to stop."

I twisted my head to look upon my rescuer. He wasn't very impressive: middle-aged, with a potbelly and graying muttonchops.

"This ain't none o' your business, pops," said the sailor. He turned back to me and ignored the other man petulantly.

"Then perhaps I oughtta make it me business," he said, drawing his sword.

"Are ye daft, old man?" growled the one still holding me. One hand released my hip and went to the hilt of his own sword

"Aye, and a daft man is never one to be trifled with."

Finally, the one holding me drew his sword. "I think I'll take me chances," he said with a smirk.

There was a clang of metal, and I jumped away with a start. I was about to take off running, but I was too mesmerized by the sight of the men fighting to do any such thing. Quite quickly, the older man, who was impossibly nimble for his appearance, had overpowered my assailant and had him cornered against an alleyway wall. The defeated party dropped his sword and held his hands up in surrender, and the victor struck him over the head with the end of is weapon, knocking him unconscious.

"Serves ye right, ye filthy cad…" he grumbled under his breath.

I turned to the muttonchopped man in surprise.

"Th-thank you," I stammered.

"No problem, lassie. But if ye don' want anything like that to be happenin' again, I suggest ye leave Tortuga. 'Tis no place for a lady, that's fer sure."

I nodded earnestly. "Will do," I insisted.

He grunted in acknowledgement, before turning and walking in the other direction.

I wanted to move, but my feet seemed rooted in place; I was utterly in shock as to what had happened. Yes, I'd been attacked, but I'd also been defended. And the man who helped me wanted absolutely nothing in return – he was content to simply walk off. He had risked his wellbeing for me when he had absolutely nothing to gain from it.

This notion took me a while to comprehend. This was why I'd left Whitecap Bay. To see people like this. To observe the truth of human nature. To see how different the world could be – I was now thoroughly glad not to be stuck with my narcissistic sisters anymore.

My mind was quickly flooded with questions: if he was such a good person, why was he here and not with his family? What was he even doing in Tortuga in the first place? How had he become such a skilled swordfighter?

I had known the man for only moments, and yet I couldn't stop thinking about him – about the way his brain worked.

That's when I decided: I should follow him.

I stole my unconscious attacker's cutlass and was greatly surprised by how heavy it was. I knew for a fact that it was a useless encumbrance to me at this point, but I thought perhaps that it might come in handy later; plus, it helped me look the part of a pirate.

And so I ran after him (or tried to, at least – my new legs didn't quite cooperate at first), trying desperately to catch up. It was fairly easy to trail someone without being seen on the streets of Tortuga; there was so much going on that one would hardly notice a smallish young woman trailing them. I was innocuous and quiet – it was no fault of his that my presence in the shadows went unnoticed. The tricky part was actually spotting him again in the first place. But I did succeed, and I watched him stumble towards the docks.

After taking a long swig from his flask, he began to climb aboard the Poseidon's Jewel. I watched him from around the corner; the boatyard was much less populated than the main streets, and I didn't want to risk being seen. Once he was safely on the ship and out of sight, I crept towards it as well.

I saw the man go inside the captain's quarters – I hoped with all my heart that he was the captain. If he was, I might actually be in luck.

I took his disappearance as my cue to start climbing the ramp.

I quickly found that the ship was not nearly as magnificent as its name suggested. It was worn and decrepit, not to mention on the small side. Feeling a bit too adventurous for my own good, I wandered towards the captain's door and pressed my ear to it.

"Redford is out of the way, Cap'n," I heard the muffled voice of my savior say, "I told Scarlett and Giselle to make damn sure that he don' try to come out here til tomorrow morn."

"And the crew?" I heard someone else ask.

"Same can be said for them. None o' them will be comin' out here til tomorrow."

"And what of our crew?"

"I went into the Faithful Bride and created a sign-up sheet – said Cap'n Jack Sparrow be lookin' for a crew and sailin' for treasure."

"Well, at least it is indeed I who is putting a crew together this time around," she heard the man, evidently Captain Jack Sparrow comment dryly.

The other let out a hearty laugh and continued, "People should start arrivin' within the hour, judgin' by the enthusiasm I saw and the amount of rum that was goin' 'round."

"Excellent, Mr. Gibbs," the captain said energetically. "I want at least eight men in the next four hours. Then, we shall set sail."

"A reasonable goal, to be certain – it shouldn't take nearly that long for ye to reach such a meager quota. But Cap'n, this is all right and good, but just where exactly are we setting sail to?"

"To see an old friend," the other answered vaguely. "Now!" he continued brusquely after an awkward pause, "We ought to get out there for when the men start arriving."

At the sound of this, I scrambled backwards, away from the door. But it was too late: I had been caught.

I soon came face-to-face with the man who had saved me – Gibbs – and the other man, Jack Sparrow.

Sparrow was the single most aesthetically fascinating person I had ever seen. He was not a large man, about of average height and build, but I could tell by his flamboyant sense of style that his personality more than made up for his stature. His coarse, dreadlocked, black hair seemed to be a working catalog of his adventures, with whalebone, beads, and other trinkets woven into it. He had dark smudges of kohl around his eyes, and on his hands and wrists he wore gaudy rings and bands of fabric. Peeking out from his sleeve, I could see a tattoo of a bird on his forearm.

Gibbs looked only mildly surprised to see me, while Sparrow scrutinized my appearance with great curiosity.

"You again," Gibbs commented warily.

"… You again?" Sparrow repeated.

"Aye, I've seen 'er before."

"Do tell."

"I just saved the lass but a few minutes ago. She must've followed me 'ere."

"Saved her? As in this young damsel was in distress and you so valiantly decided to come to her aid?"

"I s'pose you could put it that way, aye."

He cocked his head to the side, the adornments in his hair jingling, and said, "Well, that is very interesting, Mr. Gibbs. Never took you for a knight in shining armor."

"T'was but a moment of weakness, Cap'n. I can assure ye that it won't be happenin' again."

"Well then, Miss Damsel, why have you come here?" Sparrow asked me.

Thinking quickly, I lied, "I've come to enlist in your crew."

Sparrow looked pensive, but Gibbs retorted, "I've said it before and I'll say it again: it be bad luck to have a woman aboard."

"What's your name, girl," Sparrow barked at me, narrowing his eyes.

I hesitated. Barbossa had seen through my name straight away, so I needed to fix it. "Cassie," I replied.

"Cassie," Sparrow repeated, testing the name out with his tongue, "That's an odd name. What's it short for?" he asked, tilting his chin upwards and looking down at me suspiciously.

I chewed my lip tentatively. "Cassiopeia," I answered, "my parents were fond of astronomy."

"Hm. I would have guessed Cassandra, but close enough. Both Greek, I imagine," he remarked distractedly, "In any case," he continued, "why should I allow you to stay aboard me ship, Cassie?"

"I-I'm a hard worker. I will pull my share of the weight. And I know the sea; my father was a sailor. I grew up around ships and I'm not afraid of the water in the least." All of this was, of course, a lie – minus the fact that I knew the sea. That, I could say with utter confidence, was a bit of an understatement.

"Can ye defend yourself? If you needed ole Mr. Gibbs to protect you, I'd say you're in a sorry state of vulnerability."

"I was only taken by surprise. If I'd seen him coming, I would have been able to protect myself. I'm hardly some fair maiden," I said. And looks-wise, it was quite true.

"And why do you want to stay aboard?"

"I've nothing better to do," I reasoned thoughtfully, "No family, no money. I thought I might have myself a little adventure. And I heard what Mr. Gibbs was saying at the Faithful Bride regarding treasure…"

Sparrow turned exaggeratedly to his friend; "What do you think, Gibbs? Should we let 'er stay?"

"You already know me answer," he grumbled, "And I already know yours."

The captain grinned at him winningly, his smile flashing several golden teeth. "Good man," he replied, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Never could say no to a woman, could ye, Sparrow," Gibbs muttered darkly.

The captain beamed slyly once again, before turning back to me and saying, "Welcome aboard the Poseidon's Jewel, love." With that, he sauntered away and down the stairs to the main deck.

"You'll be swabin' the deck and pullin' the sails, same as the rest o' the crew. It don' make no difference that ye be a woman – ye surely won't be receivin' special treatment. If yer a burden," Gibbs continued in insistently, "we're droppin' ye off on the first spit o' land we come across, populated or no. Understood?"

I nodded again slowly, surprised by my own success. At the time, I'd had no idea just what exactly I'd gotten myself into.

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