A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed so far! It really means a lot to me :) I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Chapter XV

I found stealing to be deplorably simple.

In fact, it astounded me that the human race was even able to function on some sort of currency; the majority of men must truly have been hopeless if they hadn't been able to master the art of thievery. I'd perfected the act in less than an hour (perhaps I'm exaggerating a tad), while most people had their entire lives to practice. Why everyone didn't resort to this method of survival, I would never know.

Granted, I might have had a slight advantage… The shop clerk was a teenage boy, and he seemed much more occupied with my bosom (which really wasn't anything spectacular, especially through the concealing fabric of my chemise) than my hands, to put it gently. It also helped that the clothes I'd been wearing were extremely baggy and therefore advantageous for storing other items of worth without revealing my deceit. It wasn't as if I'd stolen anything particularly elaborate or even valuable – the clothing in the shop was all tailored for men, so it made sense that I wouldn't be perceived as a threat.

"I'm just browsing for my husband," I had asserted with a simpering smile, "He's the captain of a ship, so he's occupied at the moment – he'll probably be stopping in later."

The boy had grinned warmly, but didn't reply; I suspected that he did not speak English, but rather Dutch.

After having successfully stuffed my desired articles of clothing between my loose shirt and britches, I left the store around fifteen minutes later with a crisp, white chemise and a pair of dark brown britches, both in smaller sizes. With any luck, this new ensemble wouldn't look as ridiculous as its predecessor…

Having accomplished his minor albeit important task, I set out in hopes of obtaining some sort of shoe. I decided that it might be a bit difficult to steal a pair of boots (it might be quite obvious), so I came to the conclusion that perhaps I ought to just steal the money for a pair of boots instead.

I admit, this may not have been the absolute best of my ideas – stealing off of one's person was sure to be infinitely harder, after all. But I was emboldened by my previous triumph, and thus didn't give the prospective complications much thought.

First, however, I had to identify my target.

The streets were fairly bustling, and I soon noticed that some passersby were much more aware of their surroundings than others. For instance, a certain number of men made their way down the dusty streets, completely occupied with the action of carrying boxes or some such similar task. It was logical, then, that I should try to take advantage of one of these more distracted humans.

Soon, an opportunity presented itself: I caught sight of a man – probably in his fifties – carrying a large crate filled with books. At his waist, I spotted a small burlap coin purse in full display.

I crept behind him quietly for a few minutes in an attempt to see whether or not he would notice my benign presence. He didn't, so I swiftly readied myself to commit the deed. Slowly, I extended my arm and allowed my hand to hover over the purse. I painstakingly slide it out from under the security of his belt. When the crime was accomplished, I held my prize before me in amazement.

However, in all my self-congratulations, I failed to factor in how the public might respond to my treachery.

"Dief!" I heard someone yell. The translation took me a moment, but it then dawned on me that I was being called a thief.

My victim spun around immediately, and it became inescapably clear that I was in danger. People began slinking towards me as if they were approaching a skittish animal. I didn't wait for anyone to get too close, and took off immediately.

As I was running with a small crowd trailing me, I became aware that I had absolutely no destination in mind. I did pass by the docks, however, and I vaguely remember speeding past two dumbfounded Spritelies.

At some point, the dirt roads ended and the terrain became lush. I turned sharply and for a split second I lost sight of my pursuers. I seized this brief opening and dove into a particularly thick patch of greenery. Mere milliseconds later, I heard the trudging footsteps of the crowd approach my hiding place. I carefully peered through the thin trunk of the bush, to see around three sets of feet directly beside me – if they looked underneath, I would surely be exposed. However, they were close enough that I was safe as things were. I also noticed, however, that one of the pairs of boots were much more expensive-looking than the others. A chill passed through me as I realized that the man was most likely a military officer or some other sort of official.

I sucked in my breath (which was surprisingly difficult to do after sprinting a long distance), and prayed that they couldn't hear the desperate thumping of my heart.

"Where is she?" I heard a male voice demand in Dutch.

"She must have gone deeper into the forest," someone else replied, "We'll never find her, there's too much area to cover. She probably won't even be able to find her way out, stupid girl."

"I had ten guilders in that pouch!"

"We can notify everyone that there has been a robbery; even if she does come back, we will be able to spot her. It would be impossible to miss that scarlet hair."

"I suppose you are right… But if I see her…"

"We will put the word out that you want her brought to you, sir. You may deal with her punishment as you see fit."

"Alright. Damn that wench! I'll have my money back, I swear it."

I then heard the footsteps pick up again, which I assumed meant that the people where leaving. However, I didn't dare take any chances; I waited for five minutes after the sound had ceased until I built up the courage to poke my head out of the shrubbery. I looked around frantically, before reaching the conclusion that I was indeed alone.

Great. Now what was I supposed to do? I couldn't show my face in the town again, and we were stranded here for five days, according to Marty. This was most unfortunate, to say the least. And I was supposed to meet with the rest of the crew soon.

However, only around three or four people had chased me down, and none of them really gotten a good look at me; all they'd noticed was my hair. If I hid it, perhaps my situation could be salvaged. I did still have Schmitty's hat…

I took a deep breath and shook off the sense of dread that was building inside my chest. I quickly decided that now was as good a time as any to change clothes, seeing as I didn't want to be recognized.

As I was peeling down my britches, I noticed something very disconcerting. On the tops of my thighs – where it had been itchy earlier that morning – there was some sort of scaly red irritation. I gingerly ran my hand over the affected area, and my legs seared in pain. The flesh was bumpy and almost scabby, not to mention hideous in appearance.

I didn't know what do to or what to make of this, so I quickly pulled on my new britches and pretended that I had never noticed the rash. Perhaps it would go away on its own and wasn't a sign of anything serious…

After I'd changed my chemise, I pulled all my hair up to the top of my head and pinned it beneath my tricorn. I left my old garments in the foliage before I slowly making my way back to the town, but not without my newly acquired coin purse.

I attempted to look as innocuous as possible as I walked to the docks, where two or three crewmembers were already positioned.

"Is that Cassie?" I heard Tom ask.

"Yes, it is I," I answered quietly.

"What were you doing?" Tim demanded.

"I'd rather not talk about it…" I said with a poorly disguised smirk. I couldn't resist jingling my small trophy in front of them.

Marty looked at me with raised eyebrows and said, "I gotta say lass, I didn't think ye had it in ye."

"Neither did I," I replied with surprising sincerity.

Just then, I watched as Gibbs, along with the rest of the crew (including dog-Emery, who seemed to have taken to trailing Cotton), approached us.

"Why do'ye look like that?" Gibbs asked me immediately upon his arrival.

"It's a long story," I explained abstractly, "But lets just say it would be in my best interest to remain incognito for the time being."

"Ah, it's one o' those types o' things, is it? Well, Cap'n's always been good at maintainin' a low profile when the need presents itself, as it were, so I reckon you'd do well to follow 'is example."

"Aye," Jack agreed, eying me quizzically, "But something about you simply begs to be noticed…"

"One could say the same about you, sir," I replied cheekily. And it was certainly true – Jack's appearance (and persona) stood out amongst the crowd, to say the least.

He smirked furtively, but only for a ghost of a moment; I thought I might have only imagined it. He soon assumed a more commanding stance and announced, "I've spoken with the shipbuilder, and it appears that our stay here will amass a total of four days. Mind you, he initially insisted that the reparations would take at least a week, but, being the master of persuasion that I am, I was able to reach a more prudent agreement with the young chap. However, this means that until then we'll have to conduct ourselves with some ounce of respectability, savvy? That means no more unconcealed larceny, Cassie. Having said this, what you do here is really no interest of mine, so long as whatever it may be doesn't put our position, as it were, in jeopardy. There's a tavern and brothel in this flea of a village, so I expect you all shall be able to keep yourselves satisfactorily occupied."

At the sound of this last sentence, Marty took it upon himself to nudge Cotton with his stubby elbow and wink crudely. My heart went out to the women who would be charged with "occupying" them…

"So… we're to do whatever we want?" Tom asked with wide, lost eyes.

"Within reason," Jack corrected. The Spritlies turned to one another abruptly and locked eyes meaningfully. "Don't do anything –" However, before Jack could continue, the boys had run off.

"– stupid…" he finished with a very mildly worried wince. "Well," he said after a beat of silence, "I'll be in the tavern, if anyone needs me." With that, he turned on his heel and strode away. Gibbs, Marty, and Cotton soon followed suit.

Wentworth directed his attention towards me and asked, "What are you planning on doing?" He didn't look as if he wanted to start his binge drinking quite so early in the day.

"I was going to go purchase some boots," I said, "Would you care to join me?"

"I would love to," he said sarcastically. "But, in all honesty, I'd much rather run errands than end up in some sort of drunken brawl. So yes, I would care to join you."

I smiled sweetly at him, and together we made our way to the main road. If any of those thugs came after me, it sure would be useful to have Wentworth by my side…

A/N: There you have it! I know some of you said that you wanted a bit more interaction with Jack and Cassie, so I assure you that that will be coming in the next chapter! Just as a random side-note (this might fall under the TMI category, but I thought it was interesting...) the strangest thing happened right after I wrote this chapter - literally a few hours after I finished the rough draft, I broke out in hives on the tops of my legs. That's really weird, right? I've only had hives like one other time in my life. So yeah, I just thought it was odd. (I don't even know how many people read this, but sometimes I like to give little anecdotes).

By the way, sunnydayz56, in your review you asked what Cassie was wearing for a shirt and if mermaids' blood is silver. As for the shirt question, Cassie was still wearing the clothes that she took from The Queen Anne's Revenge. For the silver blood question, I honestly don't know what color blood mermaids traditionally have. You could very well be right, but I know that when Philip stabs Syrena's tail in OST, she has red blood. Since almost every creature has red blood, I just thought that it would make sense if she did too! Hope this clears everything up :)

Sorry for this massive A/N, please review! :D