About three days ago, lightning struck the ship that was supposed to take Rachel to Port Royal. It caught fire and sank in the raging sea. Rachel was lucky because she was able to cling to a wooden plank.

Now she was lying on a sandy beach, completely exhausted. She opened her eyes wearily. Where am I? Under her hands, she felt the damp wood of the plank that had probably saved her life. She was not capable of swimming.

Very slowly, she remembered what happened when the storm started. Apparently, she was washed up on this unknown island.

Her throat felt uncomfortably dry. She was on the verge of dying of thirst. Soft crunching in the sand made her take notice. Strong arms pulled her roughly to her feet and dragged her inside the island.

Jack's eyes darted around to the front door when suddenly two figures entered with a woman. The woman looked completely exhausted and could hardly stand on her feet. Soon she began to tremble under the firm pressure the pirates were exerting on her arms.

"Look what we found on the beach," the smaller of the two demanded in a deep, raspy voice.

Now everyone looked up, and an uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Jack understood the excitement of the two pirates. The woman did not look at all like a pirate in her dark, cuddly dress. And non-pirates were not welcome here.

Somewhat haphazardly, the two, who were still holding the stranger with an iron grip, looked around at each other.

"What shall we do with her?" the other asked.

Jack looked around. Many of those present stared at the woman suspiciously. Others eyed her with greedy looks that boded ill. With his finger raised, Sparrow stood up.

"She's with me," he proclaimed convincingly.

Surprised and frightened at the same time, the woman looked at him. Jack walked confidently to the two buccaneers and gave them a challenging look. With a jerk, they let go of the woman and went to their crew members. Jack grabbed her and led her outside the door.

"May I know your name?" he asked with a cocky grin.

"I don't see why it should concern you," she replied dismissively.

But Jack was not so easily dissuaded.

"I have probably just saved your life. Besides, I am Captain Jack Sparrow. That alone is enough of an argument."

"My name is Rachel. If you don't mind, I'd like to leave now," she said and staggered to the side.

Jack looked at her more closely as she leaned against the wall of the house, looking for support. There was a considerable amount of sand and dirt in the tips of her dark blonde waves. Her fingernails, presumably once well-kept, were cracked, as were her lips. Inflamed grey eyes moved frantically and flickered in search of clues of her whereabouts in a face with high cheekbones and a small, pointed chin.

Jack knew a castaway when he saw one in front of him. It was the same with people from the upper class – he recognised them too.

"Sure. But as I see it, you are not a pirate. What are you doing on Tortuga?" he wanted to know.

She looked at him as if he were personally to blame for her unpleasant situation before she lowered her head, stared on the ground and replied, "No, I'm not. That's why I just want to go home again."

Sensitive, as Jack sometimes tried to be, he realised he had hit her on a sore spot.

"As far as I can see, you have neither a ship nor anything else to get away from here. So, what do you say I take you for a ride on my … ," he put great emphasis on the word 'my'. "Wonderful, magnificent, outstanding and unique ship?" he finished his question, putting an arm around her shoulders as a matter of course.

Fearfully she avoided him, but skilfully Jack followed her movements. As it seemed to him, she was extremely overwhelmed with the whole situation.

"I don't know … ," she answered him hesitantly, and again her hands searched for the wall behind her back.

Encouragingly, Jack smiled at her.

"Needless to say, you are not up to move from this spot. Wait here anyway."

He went back to the tavern and returned shortly afterwards with a jug of ale. Debilitated, the woman was still leaning against the wall, breathing shallowly. Tentatively, Jack waved the jug in front of her face. When she noticed the drink, she moaned and with nervous movements her hands wanted to reach for it. She hesitated.

"You paid for it, didn't you?"

Jack raised an eyebrow. Nah, he hadn't paid for it, and he didn't think she should worry about that at the moment.

"You're thirsty, aren't you?"

With a tremor, her hands wrapped around the jug and she tried a sip. The grimace she made indicated that she did not like alcohol. Jack could relate – it was a watery brew.

Without setting it down once, she drank the jug empty and then handed it back to Jack. He grinned.

"May I suggest that you first have a little rest? Then you can take your time to think things over and decide afterwards. Aye?"

"What …?" She grabbed her forehead. "What do you want me to decide?"

"Whether you want to get on my ship to get out of here."

Rachel hesitated, and her unsteady gaze searched all sides again.

"Rest … I just need to rest a little."

Now that this scratchy thirst had been quenched a little, she could have fallen asleep on the spot.

With a flourish, Jack threw the empty jug behind his back and, in good humour, led Rachel to the anchorage where his wonderful, magnificent, outstanding and unique ship, the Black Pearl, stood.

With unsteady steps, Rachel walked onto the deck of the truly beautiful, yet equally frightening ship.

"Captain? Unfortunately, we couldn't find an eye patch for Ragetti that he would have liked. Don't be angry with us. But we have new cloth for the sails that were damaged in the storm. Look," Pintel blathered without a comma and proudly handed Jack the acquired material.

Dismayed, Jack looked from the fabric to Rachel. The brief smile that flitted across her face did not escape him. But it was also not unfounded. Anyone who had seen the Black Pearl knew straight away that white simply did not fit in with the overall image of the ship.

"White?" asked Jack in a quivering voice, completely perplexed.

"Well, we thought it would cheer up and improve the atmosphere on board a bit. This perpetual black already seems very dreary and desolate," Ragetti announced his opinion, and Pintel nodded his head in confirmation.

"White!" Jack repeated himself hysterically. "This is a pirate ship and not a … I don't know what at sea! Why the heck do you think it's called the BLACK Pearl? Because the sails are white?" Like a small, angry boy who had had a toy taken away, he stamped his foot on the floor.

Pintel and Ragetti stared at him in intimidation. This sight made Rachel laugh. Now all three pairs of eyes turned to her. She immediately fell silent and tried to keep as serious an expression as possible.

Jack, who had immediately brought his brief tantrum back under control, smiled at her.

"Now dear. You can make yourselves comfortable and go to sleep for a while."

With a gruff wave of his hand, Jack sent his, in his opinion, dumbed-down pirate duo off to get rid of the white cloth again.

Jack played with his beard and looked at the woman.

"I won't put you on the crew deck … you can have Master Gibbs' cabin. Just down the stairs one deck and … I'd better escort you."

She hesitantly followed him.