Author's Note - Pirates of the Caribbean does not belong to me. Please read and review - and I could use help with the title! Thanks to JediPati, Lli, and Raya for editing this chapter!

Chapter One

Many people made the unfortunate mistake of believing Jack Sparrow - Captain Jack Sparrow - to be perpetually drunk. This however was most untrue. Captain Sparrow didn't need whisky or rum to give off his typical, more-than-slightly-deranged aura. Of course, being a pirate, he drank anyway.

At this moment, the Captain was drinking from a small - and nearly empty - flask, and running his calloused hands over the smooth wheel of the ship, the Black Pearl. His ship. With a self-assured smirk, the Captain reflected lazily on his good fortune. After entering and leaving his possession several times, the Pearl was finally under his command once again, and what's more, he now sailed with a faithful crew.

Even as he smiled at this happy thought, Jack felt two muscled arms encircle his shoulders. He stiffened, and then relaxed as he realized that the owner of these - lovely - arms meant him no harm. "All is well, my Captain?" Anamaria's smooth voice questioned, with only a hint of bitterness. "What orders?"

"We dock in." He paused, given the mistaken impression that he had not yet thought of somewhere. " . . .Tortuga. We'll just spend one night, and then be . . ." Jack trailed off. He had seen a small, glimmering object floating amid the waves. "Ahoy!" Anamaria's keen eyes spotted the object of his distraction at once.

"Loot overboard, on the port side!"

At this call, Mr. Gibbs rushed to the ship's left side and retrieved the trinket.

With the quirk of a dark eyebrow, Captain Jack Sparrow left the helm to Anamaria's capable hands and sauntered down the steps and onto the deck, his hat at a jaunty angle.

For there's little a pirate loves more than treasure . . .


Jack stood in front of Gibbs, watching as the mate examined the trinket. The Captain struck one of his foppish poses, and pressed his hands together as if in prayer. After being ignored for nearly a minute, he smiled in mock-tolerance. "Mr. Gibbs."

Gibbs looked up, startled. "Ah, begging your pardon, Cap'n."

Another long pause.

"Give it to me, ye scurvy dog!"

The object was small and round . . . a button. "Surely it'd sink . . ." Tossing it up in the air and juggling it along his fingers for a moment, Jack realized that it was hollow, and made of pyrite, not gold. On the button was etched a small coat-of-arms-like symbol - a foil crossed over a rifle, with a rising sun in the background. Norrington. It was just like the pompous fool to put his crest on his very buttons. And just like him to make them costly only in appearance.

"All hands to me!"

Captain Sparrow leaned against the mast as the crew gathered 'round him. "Now mates. Norrington's after us again, so we'll make for Tortuga swift as . . . as a Pirate from the guard, and find out if he's been seen."

"Why should he worry us? No ship's faster than the Black Pearl!"

This comment roused a ragged cheer from the crew.

"No, love. But as Pirates, it's our," he paused for effect. "Our solemn duty to rid the Seven Seas of this threat to piracy."

Another cheer.

"To Tortuga!"

"And Freedom!"

"And to Davy Jones' with the law!"