A/N: Sorry for any confusion about which chapter is which...I forgot to add the disclaimer and had to export and edit and all that confusing mumbo-jumbo!

Disclaimer: I claim nothing with regard to ownership of anything associated with “Pirates of the Caribbean”. Such things are solely the property of the Walt Disney Corporation. I am merely borrowing something for my own personal amusement and I shall return all characters, ships, and settings in their original form.

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“Explain yerself, Lizzie,” Captain Joshua Graves demanded, leaning in close.

“I don’t know what you want me to explain,” Elizabeth Swann countered as she backed up to get away from Captain Graves horrendous breath.

“Me first mate tol’ me dat ye been seen wifout yer frockcoat and dat yer gettin’ fat.”

Elizabeth summoned all the faked indignity that she could. “Excuse me, Captain Graves. But I hadn’t been aware that getting fat was against the rules of your ship.” For good measure, she eyed Captain Graves ever expanding waist suspiciously.

“Yer a smart poppet, Lizzie,” Captain Graves growled. “But ye know what I be talkin’ ‘bout.”

“I certainly do not.” Elizabeth was having trouble holding on to her temper, something she desperately needed to do.

Captain Graves ran a dirty hand through his stringy, shoulder length hair and let out an exasperated sigh. “Have ye been wif any member o’ me crew?” he said in a near whisper.

“If, by ‘been wif’, you mean has any member of your filthy, disgusting crew of pirates bedded me,” Elizabeth said edgily, “The answer is no.”

“Take off yer frockcoat,” Captain Graves demanded.

“Planning to be the first of yer crew to bed me?” Elizabeth asked angrily.

“Wouldn’ dream of it, poppet. I’s only wan’ to be seein’ if ye arrr gettin’ fat.”

Elizabeth realized, wearily, that she would not be able to avoid the truth much longer. So she acquiesced to his request and slipped out of her frockcoat without further protest.

“I knew’d it! I knew’d it!” Captain Graves exclaimed, oddly gleeful. “I done got babes on six wenches and I knew’d that ye’s gettin’ fat due to havin’ got a babe on yerself!”

“Six?” Elizabeth said dryly, raising her eyebrow in half-hearted amazement. “My congratulations.”

“So ye’ve got a babe on,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“I haven’t the foggiest idea,” she lied, “and it does seem that you are the expect on the subject so I suppose I ‘have got a babe on.’”

“I not be likin’ de attitude, Lizzie,” Captain Graves cautioned. “An’ ye was true ta yer word, ye was a right good sailor, fer a lass. But it always been ‘sidered bad luck to have a lass ‘board a ship and I took ye on anyways. Now ye done got yerself a babe. Yer sure ‘tisn’t one o’ my crew dat got a babe on ye?”

“Quite sure, Captain. In fact, by my calculations, I ‘had a babe on’ when you took me aboard. Are you going to kick me off the ship?” Elizabeth asked, not quite sure what to expect.

“As matter o’ fact, I bee-lieve I gotta. Ya see, ‘tis ‘sidered even badder luck t’have a lass wif a babe on on board a ship. So I bee-lieve dat I’ll be a puttin’ ye ashore next port. See?” Oddly, Captain Graves looked upset by this turn of events.

A long sigh escaped from Elizabeth. “We all must do what we must do, Captain Graves. I do thank you for the opportunity to serve on your ship.”

“’Twere nice to have you on board, Lizzie. Gave us all a bit o’ class.” Captain Graves stuck out a grimy hand and guided Elizabeth toward the door of his cabin.

Elizabeth stopped before going out and faced him. “When do next expect us to make port? Just so I can have my things ready.”

“Oh, don’ worry, poppet,” he said, patting her on the shoulder. “Won’ be for another week or two.”

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Another week or two came early. It came the very next morning. Elizabeth, only recently fallen asleep in her cabin near the kitchen area of the ship, was rudely awoken by the clanging of pots and pans in the next room.

Blearily, she made her away around various hammocks and stepped into the kitchen. “Why on earth are you making breakfast so early?” she mumbled.

“Don’ be eatin’ iffen ye aren’ wantin’ none,” the bad tempered cook growled. “But Cap’n Graves tell me to be cookin’ victuals fer de crew ‘fore dey head inta Tortuga for t’ree days, so thas what I does.”

Elizabeth suddenly felt rather lightheaded. “Tortuga? Already?” she whispered as she leaned against the doorframe.

“Aye, poppet.” The cook looked at her suspiciously with his one eye. “Looks t’me as though ye migh’ be needin’ some victuals ‘fore ye go ashore.”

“What? Oh, no, thank you anyway. I’m fine,” she lied. She returned, unsteadily, to her cabin and packed her small pack of things. Then she walked, trancelike, to the deck of the ship and got in line to walk down the boards and onto the familiar docks of Tortuga.

Elizabeth had just reached the road that led into Tortuga when she heard someone yelling for her. Turning around, she was shocked to see Captain Graves, red-faced and sweating, toward her.

“Here ye go, Lizzie,” he panted, shoving a leather pouch into her hands. “I be knowin’ ye don’t got much so I thinks maybe ye might need some coins to get ye by for a bit.”

Utterly confused by his kindness, she accepted the pouch reluctantly. “Thank you, Captain Graves. But you really don’t have to do this.”

Captain Graves blushed a bit. “I knows it, Lizzie. But if tweren’t for me wantin’ t’avoid bad luck, I’d let ye stay. I really do like ye.”

Elizabeth nodded, her throat too constricted by the need to cry to attempt to speak. She watched Captain Graves walk away, felt the small amount of coins in the pouch, and shivered in fear of what would come next for her.

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“Aren’t you the one that stole Jack Sparrow’s heart and then killed him?” a woman called out.

Elizabeth froze and quickly surveyed the dark alley, hand on her dagger. Night had fallen on Tortuga and the town was filled drunken pirates and their wenches. The particular alley in which Elizabeth had chosen to walk was populated only by one wench and one pirate, happily going about their business. “Who’s there?” she asked the darkness.

“Why, dear proper lass, don’t you recognize me? I’m Gisele and you stole Jack Sparrow from me.” The blond haired wench stepped into the moonlight and faced Elizabeth.

“Somehow,” Elizabeth said evenly. “I don’t think that Captain Jack Sparrow would take to kindly to being considered your property. Therefore, I stole him from no one. By the way, when is the last time you saw Captain Jack Sparrow?”

“A fortnight ago,” Gisele answered without thinking.

“Then I certainly did not kill Captain Jack Sparrow, did I? If I had, how could you have seen him a fortnight ago?” Elizabeth smiled at her excellent retort.

Gisele fussed with her skirts and curls as she regrouped. “Well, you aren’t welcome in Tortuga. So be gone by morning or I’ll tell the law on you.”

Elizabeth couldn’t resisted a bit more verbal sparring. “Somehow, I doubt that you are in charge of all Tortuga. And I also doubt that there is any sort of law in Tortuga. But, don’t worry, Gisele. If staying in Tortuga means being near you, I’ll leave.” And she walked away.

She walked to the docks and quickly found a small cranny between sacks of flour and barrels of rum. Sinking onto a sack, she curled into a ball and pulled her knees as close to her chest as her growing stomach would allow. And she cried herself to sleep.