First bloody PotC fanfic I've ever made. Not likely to be the last, though, sure enough, I've already got me hands full of ideas just ready to burst forth from me noggin, savvy?

Kitsune Takaya holds no possession of any PotC characters, She does, however, bear all rights and copyrights to a character of her own (no, not Kitsune herself, a different character).

The Call of the Sea

Chapter 1: Another Captain?

The young woman swayed back and forth as she looked up from her bottle of rum to gaze out at the open ocean. She knew it wouldn't do good to stand in such a tiny boat, but the way her luck was going, it didn't matter. She tore her gaze away from the sunlit horizon to rest at the water quickly rushing up to her leatherbound feet. She grimaced as she began to walk a few feet, reaching down and grabbing a bucket, with which she used to throw the water threatening her old boots out of the pathetic excuse of a boat. It was really only a couple boards put together, in her opinion.

She put the rum bottle down for just a second, so that she could use both arms to scoot the salty liquid out of the boat and back into the ocean where it may have belonged. It wasn't doing very good, though. The water was alreayd soaking up to her knees, and staining her grey coat and her brown trousers, which her mother had thought looked absolutely ridiculous for a woman. Men's clothing! Really! But these had been her father's clothes, and she honored her late father.

Her poor mother was a noblewoman, completely unused to the life of a "bloody pirate". In fact, her mother absolutely hated pirates, and was astonished to find that she had given birth to the child of one.

Pirate was in her blood, thanks to her father, and she thanked him for it. She much rather wear his coomfortable clothes, than those of her mother's. How on Earth was she supposed to wear such hideous clothes! She couldn't even breathe in a corset! She shivered at the thought. Horrid thing, it was.

And now, she was standing on the tiny boat, although it was completely submerged, except for the mast, and was waist deep in the water. She sighed. This wouldn't do. Not at all.

She glanced to her back, to find that her rum was not there.

"Oh, bugger," she muttered, looking about her. She found it floating several feet away, adrift on the waves. On the horizon, was land, various shapes of buildings and trees finally coming into view.

"Not without my rum!" she exclaimed, then dived fully into the water, paddling in the direction of her precious rum.


The man in charge at the docks looked up from his book, dropped his gaze, then quickly did a double-take. Someone climbed out from the water and onto the dock. He quickly approached, his "finely dressed" slave tagging alongside him. The figure stood up, brushing aside the fact they'd just clambored out of the sea, soaking wet, and rung out their long brown hair, done in dreadlocks, and the front covered with a red bandana. To his surprise, it was a woman. And she didn't seem to dress like one; leather boots, brown trousers, white shirt with baggy sleeves, and many small coins, beads, and trinkets hanging off her dreadlocks. She also had some kind of a leather belt strapped to hold a saber and upholstery for a pistol. She had a bottle of rum in her hand, drank the rest of the contents, glanced back, and picked up a triangular shaped hat, putting it securely onto her head.

"By God," the man said, "Didn't you come here on a boat?"

The woman looked at him, brown eyes clouded. She pointed to the ocean behind her, then when he nodded, turned back and looked.

"Uh, well," she said, an accent to her voice, "I did come on one, but it sort of got left behind, about a mile back, back there. Just took a dive to Davey Jones' locker, if you get me." She winked, and tried to pass.

"I shall need to know your name, ma'am," the dock man said. The small black boy gazed up at the woman with wide black eyes, tugging at his hat a little.

The woman reached into a small pouch on the side of her belt, taking out three coins, and putting them into his hands. "What do you say . . . three shillings and we forget the name?" she asked. The man looked at her a second before smiling.

"Welcome to Port Royal, Miss Becca." He strode, triumphantly away. The woman strode a bit drunkenly up the dock, quickly snatching a tiny pouch full of coins, then walking away. She smiled to herself.

"Now, where next?" she asked herself, walking around town. She got strange glances shot at her by the townsfolk, and shot them strange glances back. She walked up to one building. A sign hung up outside, reading: 'Plum's Tavern'.

She smiled, walking inside, and sitting down at the bar. "A bottle of rum, if you would be so kind," she told the bartender, who nodded, getting to work. She glanced around the small tavern. There were a couple people talking in one corner, some people whispering things to each other and casting her glances, there were a couple men casting her even more glances, and then there was a pair of men in the back, talking to themselves, and seeming not to notice the newcomer.

She sat there, drinking the spiced rum, and sighing in satifaction as she felt it stir in her stomach. She suddenly felt a hand on her hip and the scent of alcohol and warmth breath on her neck.

"Aren't you a pretty little thing?" asked a random drunkard, "Why don't ya come back to my table and we can 'ave some fun, eh?"

"I advise you not to touch me, lest you feel the need to die an early death, savvy?" she asked, but he didn't listen, and continued to touch her. Suddenly, the turned, drawing her sword and pushing him away from her, and pointed the object at him. She'd pushed him to roughly that he'd fallen back into the table behind, completely snapping it in half, and falling on his arse. This caused everyone to look at the pair, silence filling the room.

The girl looked up, pointing her sword around the room. "Do any of you other gents want to fool around with me? I'm here on important business, and I'm not here to prance around with no purpose, savvy? So, unless you'd all like to have your innards stripped from you and let me leave you for dead in the salty depths and be send to Davey Jones' locker, then I suggest you leave me alone."

Putting the sword away, she sat down and continued on with her rum. From the corner, she heard, "Spunky little thing, eh? I like 'er."

"Oh, come now, Jack," said another man, "She'd probably only be another to deliver a slap, to which you might respond, 'Don't think I deserved that,'." The man laughed slightly. "Although, I do find it funny. She does look an awful lot like you. Same hair, same way of dress, heck, she even drinks rum like you do!"

To think, the girl looked up, turning her head to the back corner, where the two men were conversing.

"Really?" came a reply, and a man who, indeed, looked very much like her, glanced out from the table, at her. He the only real difference between them would probably be that he was a man, she was a woman, and he had a beard and a more weathered appearance about him.

'Not bad looking, that's for sure,' the girl thought. Before she could turn back to her rum, she heard a "Psst!" sound. She glanced up at the table in the back, watching as the man with dreadlocks "PSSST!" again, and began to frantically wave her over. Quirking an eyebrow, she stood slowly, and started to walk to the table. Realization hit her and she ran back to the table she had been sitting at, grabbing her rum and putting a defensive look on her face as she glared at the man, who had been sitting next to her, who had tried to grab the rest of her drink.

She quickly walked over to that table and stood before it, looking at its occupants. She noted the first man, with the dreadlocks and looks much like her own, and then the other man, who was dressed a little more classy (though not enough to be deemed a true nobleman) and has brown hair that reached his shoulder, though tied back in a ponytail. The man with dreadlocks was drinking a mug of what smelled like spiced rum. Hm. How curious.

"State your business with me," the woman said.

"State your name, missy," the dreadlocked man said, leaning back into the chair and grasping the handle of his mug of rum.

"State yours, first," the woman replied.

"Ladies first," the man retorted. The woman growled slightly.

"Becca," she lied, "Becca Windtaft."

The man sighed. "State your real name, if you would,"

She sighed, angrily. "Marina Blackheart. And you would be?"

The man stood, taking her hand in a gentlemanlike gesture, with his other, he removed his hat. "Captain, Captain Jack Sparrow." He bent down and kissed her hand.

"Pleasure," she said, bluntly, then turned to the other man. "And you are?"

"William Turner," he said. Marina nodded.

"What be yer business with me, Captain?" she asked, turning back to Jack.

Jack sat down. "Nothing wrong with a friendly chat, eh? Have a seat, pull up a chair, lass. Let's talk."

Marina sat. "About what?"

"Just a few questions. For instance, why do you look like me?"

"Why do you look like me?"

"Don't answer my question with a question. And certainly not the same one!" Jack snapped.

"Nothing wrong with that question, for it was one of my own, and, as such, should be noted first, after all, that is what you said, was it not, Captain?"

Jack seemed a bit flustered. "Was . . . what not?"

"What you said."

"What. Did I say?"

"Ladies first, I believe,"

Jack stared at her for a second before laughing softly and saying, "Ah, yes. I did say that, didn't I?"

"So, why do you look like me?" Marina smirked softly, awaiting his reaction.

"Well . . ." Jack started, then trailed off, "I . . . . don't know." Will chuckled slightly, obviously amused by the 'Baffled Captain Jack Sparrow' this Marina girl had reduced him to. This was a rare thing Will had ever seen.

Jack recovered, and asked, "Where did you come from and where are you headed?"

"Well, my mother was a noblewoman from Port Royal. My father was a pirate. They had me, Mother died, Father raised me to be a pirate, and that's basically all you need to know," Marina told them. "As for where I'm headed, my ship is moored in Tortuga, but I need a way back, so I'm going to commandeer one from here and continue on my merry little way to the open seas."

"Your ship?" Will asked.

"Yes, my ship. Mine. I'm captain. Marina Blackheart, Captain of the White Raven." Marina announced it with a confident air. Jack looked at her.

"I thought your name was familiar," he said, "Captain Marina Blackheart of the White Raven. A worthy title for a worthy pirate. And why are you so torn from your ship, Captain?"

"If you must know, my crew and I were docking in Tortuga for a night or two. I went to the local tavern for a drink, but I was kidnapped and brought aboard a merchant ship. I was to be brought to the King's Navy at once and hanged for my piracy and other 'trecherous' acts against the crown. I narrowly escaped and found myself stuck on this stupid spit of land not worthy enough to be called an island, and, uh, 'commandeered' a ship from the local, uh, witch."

"Tia Dalma?"

"No, just some random wench trying to get off the island herself. Course, she'll be mad at me if I return, seeing as her boat is somewhere off the coast of Port Royal, but, hey, who said I'd ever return?" Marina shrugged, taking a swig of her drink.

"Well, my boat is moored somewhere around the back of the island. And seeing as I am going to Tortuga, I could lend you a ride," Jack said.

"Thank you. You're too kind," Marina said.

"You do realise that the King's Navy resides here in Port Royal, don't you? And that if they catch you, you with be send to the gallows?" Will said. Immediately, Marina's face dropped into a frown.

"Bugger," she muttered.

"I, myself, am a fugitive from the law, so I think it best we leave . . ." Jack started, but then a couple of the King's soldiers marched past the window. He and Marina immediately ducked, until they passed, and Jack finished, "Now."

And so they made their way to the back of the island, dodging the soldiers that patrolled the island. There, sitting in the waters of the high tide, was a massive ship with white sails. Marina turned to Jack, confused.

"I thought you were Captain of the Black Pearl?" she asked.

"Ah, yes," Jack said, sadly. "Sadly, she was taken from me by Davey Jones's beasty, the Kraken. But, I managed to escape, somehow."

"Ahoy! Jack!" called a man from the deck of the ship. "Where have ye been? We were about to set sail!"

"You were never a good liar, Gibbs," Jack said, as the three climbed aboard.

"Who is this, Cap'n?" Gibbs asked. Mr. Cotton's parrot whistled, causing the female pirate to blush.

Jack put an arm around Marina's shoulders. "This, mates, is Captain of the White Raven, Marina Blackfoot."

"Blackheart," Marina corrected.


"And what be yer business here, Mrs. Blackheart?" Gibbs asked.

"My ship is docked in Tortuga and I am without a ride," Marina told them, "Your generous captain has offered me a ride to Tortuga so that I may spare myself the trouble of commandeering a ship from here and possibly getting myself caught from the King's Navy."

"Aye," Gibbs said, nodding his head with one eye squinted. "Welcome aboard."

"As Captain of the White Raven, she is to be given as much respect as you give to me," Jack announced. "Now, hoist anchor! We sail for Tortuga!" Jack climbed the steps to the upper deck and took out his compass, watching it as it spun about before pointing to the open ocean. Glancing at his left hand and the Black Spot reluctantly, he commanded the crew head out to sea.

Will climbed up to where Jack stood, watching as he continued to set sail for the waters that would lead them towards Tortuga. "I thought we were to find the heart of Davey Jones," Will said.

"Well, mate, you thought right, which is why we're headed to Tortuga. I got word that our old friends Norrington and Beckett are also docked in Tortuga, waiting for ol' Fishface and his crew of sea skunks to give in and give Beckett control of the seas," Jack told him.

"So you want to take it from them?" Will said. Jack closed his compass with a snap, looking at Will. His mouth hung open about a centimeter or two, in thought, then slowly crept into an infamous Captain Jack smile.

"Aye, mate," Jack said, patting him on the back, "You're not too shabby, getting along great as a pirate. That's great, just don't touch my rum." Jack soon departed, walking offdeck, to his cabin, where he closed the door, and shut himself inside. Will shook his head, looking at the pirate, then cast his gaze to Captain Blackheart, who was gazing out to the open ocean. He walked down and stood next to her, looking out to the ocean as well.

"Ready?" he asked. Marina nodded.

"Aye, I've been waiting a little too long," she said. "It's time I paid my crew a little visit."

There you go! What will happen when Marina goes to find her ship? What choice is she going to be split between? And is Jack having some second thoughts on her choice? What the heck am I talking about? Read the next chapter to find out, but before that, I want 5 REVIEWS for me to update, savvy?