A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I know you're all itching for some Jack/Cassie, and I promise that your wishes will be granted if you're just patient ;) I hope you all enjoy this one!

Chapter XVI

When Wentworth and I had finished our errand (boots were quite puzzling and uncomfortable contraptions, if I do say so myself), we took a calm stroll through the town.

"Why did you decide to join Captain Sparrow's ship, if you don't mind my asking," I inquired abruptly.

"Well," he started, "I really couldn't stand the Navy. My captain was extremely strict, even by military standards, and, you see, my mother is very ill back home. I thought my Navy salary might cover her health expenses, but the payments weren't nearly enough. Engaging in piracy had really never even been a consideration for me, but circumstances made it such that it was the most logical option. When I heard that Captain Sparrow as assembling a crew, the choice seemed obvious – Sparrow is known for both his success in the fiscal sense and his tolerance. You do know the story of how he came into piracy, don't you?"

"I'd always just assumed that he'd been born into it…" I felt a bit stupid for not knowing anything about the man to whom I supposedly swore my allegiance.

"True enough, pirate blood flows through his veins – but he started off as a merchant sailor, just as respectable as the lot o' them. He sailed under the East India Trading Company, if I remember correctly, and he was quite well-to-do."

"What happened?" I scoffed. It was hard for me to fathom that Jack could have ever been defined by the terms "respectable" and "well-to-do."

"As the story goes, Mr. Cutler Beckett, head of the Company, ordered Captain Sparrow to transport a shipment of human cargo from Africa to the New World."

"Human cargo?" I interrupted, confused.

"You know, slaves," he said quietly as if it were a taboo subject. "Anyway, he failed to complete this task and released all the cargo back in Africa. When he returned to the Caribbean, Beckett was, as you can imagine, not exceedingly pleased."

"What did he do?"

"He branded him a pirate – I don't know if you've noticed, but he does indeed have a scar on his forearm from the run-in."

"Well, he's certainly seemed to have embraced the label," I remarked.

"Indeed," Wentworth agreed.

A pleasant silence followed, and the pair of us looked out to the horizon at the sinking sun.

"You know," I started tentatively, "Perhaps we ought to check on the others…" I couldn't help but recall what had happened the last time the crewmembers had been permitted to drink freely; their behavior hadn't exactly fallen under the restrictions of "keeping a low profile."

"I was just thinking the same."

So, we then set off towards the tavern; it had become much more populated now that the night was drawing nearer. We stepped inside the candle-lit wooden building and easily spotted our comrades: they were all positioned around a large table with simple pewter beer steins and a deck of cards laid before them. There were also several buxom women surrounding them, and Cotton even had one sitting on his lap. The Spritelies were clearly enthralled with these women, though most of them seemed to be directing their attention towards Sparrow.

"I see they've made good use of their time," I commented wryly.

Wentworth laughed, but pressed forward. Soon, we were standing before them.

"Ah, Cassie!" Tim hiccupped cheerily. He looked up at me in adoration, but he could hardly keep his eyes open.

"How much have you let him drink," I demanded accusatorily; the question was directed at Jack.

"Don't lookit me," he answered, putting his hands up to indicate innocence, "They're not my prob'lem."

"Let'em 'ave a good time!" Gibbs boomed heartily. His outburst was a bit unexpected, and I turned to him in surprise. He was clearly just as far gone as his younger companions. "That'll be three shillings fer me, thank'ye very much…" he said to Marty. After the smaller man had begrudgingly handed him a handful of coins, Gibbs looked to me and Wentworth and instructed, "Siddown, the both o' ye. 'ave a drink." He pushed a pitcher towards us.

Wentworth was easily able to get the attention of a barmaid, and had two more steins brought over. He then proceeded to pour the alcohol into both of them and handed one to me. I didn't know what to do.

"Go on, have a drink," Wentworth prodded lightly, "It's not going to do any harm." He himself took a large swig, before turning to me expectantly.

I looked at the frothy amber liquid mistrustfully and raised the rim of the mug to my lips. The drink was bitter, but not altogether unpleasant. I took a larger gulp and felt the fluid slosh down my esophagus; I hadn't eaten since God-knows-when, and it felt odd to have something occupying my stomach.

I honestly had no idea how or even if the beer would affect me, so I decided to play it by ear and drink sparingly. If, after an hour or so, I remained sober, perhaps I would drink more. But until then, I was to be very cautious.

"Navy boy, take me place," Marty said, "Ole Gibbs is bleedin' me dry. I think I'm gonna re'tire fer the night," he continued, smiling lewdly at his hefty blonde companion.

Wentworth eyed the couple disapprovingly, but said, "Alright… What are we playing?"

"All Fours, mate. Jack, ye better join in now – Marty's gone and left n' neither Cotton nor'the Spr'lies are innerested and ye know ye can't play wit' only two people."

"I would, my dear friend, but I wouldn' want you to lose all of your humble earnings."

"N'nsense, Jack. Ye know I kin beat ye with one'and tied behind me back."

"You've always got one hand attached to your liquor, so is that not the same?"

" 's a lot o' talk fer someone who don' want to play…"

"Fine, deal me."

"Cassie, would you like to play?" Wentworth asked. His eloquence was a far cry from the slurs that had assaulted my ears only moments before.

"No, I don't know how," I answered. Nor was I interested to learn – it looked... complicated.

Jack stretched his arms out and cracked his knuckles exaggeratedly as he readied himself for the match. Suddenly, a pretty blonde barmaid came up behind him and put her delicate hands on his shoulders. Jack craned his neck to look at the woman, as if to make sure that she was adequate, before flashing his notorious speckled grin. He languorously lifted one of his arms, which she took as a cue to settle herself upon his knee. It was clear that she did not speak English and that Jack did not speak Dutch, but linguistic barriers were apparently not enough to squelch the virile pirate's libido.

Wentworth watched all this transpire with a raised eyebrow, but Gibbs did not seem surprised in the least.

Strangely, I felt agitated and hostile towards the woman. I did not know why. Perhaps it was because she was getting more male attention than I was, and she was so obviously inferior to me in terms of physical attributes. I mean, I was a bloody mermaid, for crying out loud. She – she was just some bar wench. It was preposterous that she should be more appealing than I.

I drowned my indignation in the remainder of my beer.

This didn't quell the bizarre sensation at all, so I quite logically decided that the only possible solution was to drink more alcohol. I poured myself another glass and tried to unglue my eyes from Jacks filthy hand, which was drawing lazy circles on the fabric covering the strumpet's hipbone.

I quickly finished the beer. I needed more. No one noticed how much I was drinking, which only further irked me. And on top of that, I couldn't seem to get knackered. After finishing off the pitcher (only to have it be replaced almost immediately), I found that my mind was only slightly hazy.

His hand moved lower – to her thigh, to be precise.

It soon dawned on me why mermaid culture did not foster close relationships – it was because an all-female species was too competitive to allow for such an environment. I took another long swig, because this thought was far too lucid to be passing through my mind after I'd drunken so much. I finally began to understand the term "drinking like a fish."

Jack won the card came, and he happily collected a mound of gold and silver coins. The wench gave him a kiss as a reward. It looked like it was meant to be short, but Jack prolonged it.

I stood and left the tavern.

I was surprised that Wentworth didn't follow me, and I surmised that he hadn't seen me leave. How wonderful, I thought to myself bitterly. I didn't know what had come over me, what had made me so churlish. There was no reasonable explanation for it.

But now, I was walking down the darkened streets along the shoreline. I was being completely driven by some primal instinct and I didn't feel as if I had any control over my actions. What I did know, however, was that I was going to the water. I needed to be in the ocean. I needed to go home.

Eventually, the houses and shops disappeared and I was walking along an uninhabited stretch of beach. I clumsily began to remove my clothing (for I was not completely unaffected by the copious amount of alcohol I had consumed) and left it in a trail behind me. I caught a glimpse of my sinewy bare legs, only to see that the rash had progressed further down my skin. I panicked. I needed to get in the water.

I stuck my bare foot in the sea and felt the pleasant, familiar coldness envelop me. I was purged of my vexation. As the miraculous liquid gently lapped against my legs, it washed away the irritation. Once the water reached my waist, the limbs merged together and were replaced by my much-missed tail. So that was how it worked.

I submerged my head and savored the feeling of the current passing through my long hair; swimming while inebriated was an entirely new and wonderful sensation. Every twist, every turn was magnified and every hint of delight was heightened. I flipped and rolled and dove and forgot all about silly Jack Sparrow and his flirtatious whore. It was brilliant.

All of a sudden, however, one of my twirls was cut short.

I felt some sort of rough material ensnare me, and I was abruptly pulled towards the shore.

I fought against the offending material, but to no avail; it stretched the length of the beach and I was unable to swim either under or over it. Perhaps if I'd been sober I'd have found a way out, but such was not the case. Alas, I was in danger and I was petrified.

I was inelegantly thrust out of the water and onto the surprisingly hard sand. I felt my tail diverge and two sets of rough hands pin my arms behind my back. I brought my knees to my chest and shook my hair over myself in an attempt to maintain some shard of modesty, but my nakedness was still inescapable.

"This little thief is even more of a nuisance than I'd thought. That red hair – it's so recognizable…" said a gruff male voice. He was speaking Dutch. I opened my eyes wildly and saw that he and his companions were in uniform.

"Leave me alone!" I hissed, writhing desperately. The affects of the alcohol were lost completely in my terror.

"What is a mermaid doing here, in Port Frederiksted? And mingling with humans, no less. How did you get here?" he demanded, pressing a cold knife to my throat.

"I will tell you nothing," I grit out menacingly.

"Now, now, you will only tell us nothing if what you seek is death," he said with false sweetness.

"Release me!" I commanded, baring my teeth.

"Why are you here?" he pressed.

"You will not let me go, even if I tell you."

"That matters not."

"Of course it does! I will not tell you anything. You are wasting your breath."

"I thought you might say that… Unfortunately for you, I know a way to make you tell us. Nicolaas, bring me the light," he ordered. "You don't think we sail the world without learning a thing or two, do you?"

Another man stepped forward holding a lit lantern; he handed it to his superior. "We must choose our words carefully," he prefaced, "We will have only one chance to make an inquiry."

The man with his knife to my throat momentarily moved it and sliced off a lock of my vibrant hair. He blew on it and rubbed it against his uniform so that it was not wet.

"No!" I shrieked.

"By the power of Nerthus, mistress of the sea, we compel you to tell us what you seek!" he yelled, dropping my hair into the fire.

I felt the air exit my lungs, my eyes roll back, and my body go limp. I no longer had control over my actions. "We seek that which makes men most powerful," said a surreal voice from my mouth.

"Hear that, men?" said the horrid officer, "I told you we'd learn something important. Now, the only question I have left is this: what should we do with her?"

"I say we kill her," said a particularly frightened sailor.

"But she's on land," reasoned another, "she can't hurt us. Plus, how are we going to find, 'that which makes men most powerful,' without her?"

"That is very true," said the leader, "And it would be a pity to have to extinguish such a beautiful flame so soon…" he continued, trailing his finger lightly down my bare skin. In one harsh and abrupt movement, he tried to pry my knees away from my chest; I let out an earth-shattering scream.

A/N: Please review and I'll get the next chapter up ASAP!