The Pearl speaks of love and betrayal and welcoming home her true leader. It's better than it sounds, trust me.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean.

*****

I am the Black Pearl. I am freedom. I am a predator of the night, an eagle of the seas. I dance across the water, obedient to my captain's orders, knowing his wishes even as he thinks of them. My captain is my soul. When he suffers, I suffer.

My captain loves me. Before every battle, as the crew crow excitedly, my captain's fingers will twitch anxiously against me. He fears what injuries will be done to me. Always, I hum a message to him through my timbers, reassuring him. After all, I am the greatest pirate ship on the Seven Seas. No vessel can harm me.

After each conflict, whilst the air is still full of the cries of wounded men, my captain will check every inch of me, wincing as his callused fingertips graze over my splintered injuries. Always, my boards creak and I pulse under his fingers. It's all right- I am not hurt…

Even as this moment passes, I shudder as I feel the blood of both crews seeping through my deck. When the death toll is told and the bodies are cast into the sea, the call of the brazen wind through the rigging will deepen mournfully. My captain will place his hand on my railing as he listens; he is the only soul on board who knows that ships too can cry…

The darkest time I can remember is when I lost my true captain. He was betrayed by his first-mate, a bragging evil man whose poisoned silver tongue stole the crew's senses and set them to mutiny. They brought upon themselves the curse of the Aztec gold, and as they suffered they grew bitter. Where once they cared for me, now they spat and cursed and thumped their weapons into me, bringing splinters and holes and the fury of a ship in a gale. So much anger…I harboured a hatred for these men as they hated the curse they had brought upon themselves.

My timbers grew dark- rotting wood, decaying, cursed. My sails became ripped and torn, a gaping turmoil of boiling emotions. I was angry. Wherever we sailed, I sought the storms. There were to be no gently ebbing, genial tides for the murderers that crewed me- instead I attacked the waves, bringing down on myself the raw fury of Lady Ocean, calling her demons upon me.

Then came a quest for freedom. Eagerly, the crew searched for the gold they had so greedily collected, journeying backwards and forwards from the Isla de la Muerta. If a ship could laugh I would have done so; scornful of their slavering attempts to redeem themselves in the eyes of the Great Powers. After the last piece had been gathered, with a new and innocent soul on board, we set out for our final journey to the cursed island.

Thus the chase began. And despite myself, I enjoyed the cat-and-mouse game we played across the waters, those Naval ships and I. Though I did not know it, the game, speedy Interceptor carried my beloved captain on his mission to find me, but the other was a true warship.

The great Dauntless with her huge gun decks and her loyal crew and her fine leader the Commodore, with a face of stone but a heart of untouched gold. I envied her that. As I slaved under the cruel reign of a tyrant, she was treated with respect. For the short time we were anchored near each other, that same wind that heralded our tears allowed us to communicate. She spoke of how the Pirate Hunter would absently stroke his fingers along the railings, over the mast, across the wheel, not noticing the hum of the ship's reply. Of how he would grip at the timber when they came to a battle. Of how he would lean, exhausted, against her and allow himself a small, rare smile at their victory. Truly, my friend did not know her luck.

At Isla de la Muerta, there was fury as the cursed pirates discovered the trick that had been played on them, and joy as I found that my captain had followed me and was once again on board. But for me it was a bitter triumph, for although my captain was restored to me, he was once again at the mercy of the pirates

Then the roles were reversed and we were now the cat to the Interceptor's mouse. There was a battle- rage and fire and the acrid fumes of gun smoke filled the air. Despite myself, I felt amusement as my captain, locked in the brig yelled his indignant plea- "Stop blowing holes in my ship!" Against the bold Interceptor, there was victory. I did not feel any glee for it.

Once again, the damned crew abandoned my true captain to die on that godforsaken island. I felt his eyes burn longingly into me as I set sail away from him for the second time. I tried to call to him, but the winds would not heed me.

Then it ended. The men of the Royal Navy and the pirates fought long and hard, but the side of good prevailed when the curse was broken. I heard the cries of victory form the Dauntless as my new crew sent me on a getaway course away from the other ship, away from Isla de la Muerta, away from the threat of the Navy. Away from my captain again. This time the winds were sympathetic to me, and I wept as I had never wept before. Although my crew was now one of true seafarers that treated me properly, it now seemed that I would never be steered by my true captain again.

So imagine my ecstatic delight when we anchored in Port Royal and he climbed aboard from the sea. He tenderly rubbed his hand over the wheel and I thrummed and crooned under his touch, welcoming him with love to the place where he belonged.

I am the Black Pearl. I have been abused, but now I am once again whole. I am the fastest, most powerful and most legendary ship on the high seas.

Catch me if you can…

*****

Please R&R! Do you think I should write one of these for the Dauntless?