Okay, I guess I'd bette explain a little about this story, because it's sort of a sequel... and sort of not. The bits in italics - such as the bit below - picks of right where the old one left off. You can skip them if you really like, heh. All of the other bits, however, are just funny, random or crazy happenings on board the Dutchman, told from the perspective of a girl who ended up stuck on there. Repeat: Not a horrible DavyxOC! Hooray! Anyway. You don't need to have read the first story to understand the little oneshotty bits.


As they pulled out of the hug, Palafico flushed a little, looking slightly embarrassed. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, unable to believe how happy she felt.

"Bibsy... you're all grown up!" Palafico laughed, gesturing to her. She laughed too – he was right, she guessed. She really was. She wasn't a silly teenage girl who didn't know anything now – she was a proud sea captain! Her hair was cropped and she was looking tidy in a waistcoat and jacket, still disguised as a man as they didn't allow females in the navy, a fact she found very annoying.

"And you're still exactly the same..." She murmured, looking at him closely, wanting to soak up every single little detail. Over ten long years, all of the details of how her old best friends had looked had started to melt away, until she could hardly remember any more; for Palafico, just a pair of large, dark, wise eyes.

"I thought I'd never see you again, Bibs. I... I really did." He looked sad, and happy at the same time. Bibsy knew what it was like, to be trapped in a paradox of bittersweet feelings. She nodded at him excitedly, not being able to stop grinning like an idiot. Other crewmembers were around too. They looked young, tired, and happy to be back.

"But I'm here. I was wrong, Palafico. There is no way back, back to my home. So I'm staying now." She looked at him. He looked at her.

"It's been a long time," Palafico said, scratching the back of his head.

"A very long time," Bibsy agreed. There was a pause. "How is guiding the souls?" She asked, interestedly, "Am I missing out?"

"It's... boring, for the most part." Palafico admitted. She laughed. He turned to her, his eyes fixed on her intently, serious now. "Come with us," He said. Her mouth opened, and closed again. "At sunset, when we go back... come with us. Guide the souls. It'd be much more fun with you there. And we could... you know... be... together..."

"I..." She wasn't sure what to say. What could she say to that? "Is that even allowed?" She asked him. He didn't know. So they just looked at each other.

"Come with us," He repeated, "Please."


Hello. My name is Sadie Ella Ward, however for some bizarre reason that I don't want to go into now, I am known as Bibsy. When I was (nearly) seventeen years old, I ended up going on this whole crazy hyped-up adventure, and somehow me, your average 21st century girl, ended up in the past. And it was fun, for the most part, and also confusing. Yes, this story is a sequel. My last story is about how all of this crap happened and how I ended up here, serving on board the Flying Dutchman, with it's scary crew. It's called A Long Way From Home.

Yeah, yeah, read that if you want, blah blah blah. Insert plug here. This, basically, is some good old reminiscing of those good old days on board the Dutchman, before the whole Jack Sparrow Incident occurred and killed off nearly half of our crew and the captain. Before Cutler Beckett came on board with his dinky buckle-up shoes and bossed us all around. Okay, I may go into some memories from there too.

For the most part, it's me and Palafico, just remembering the good times. And it shalt be funeth.

1) Gender Wars

"Women," Finnegan muttered, rolling his eyes as I squealed and started shaking my head wildly.

"That... was a mean trick!" I protested, scrubbing bits of slime, seawater and seaweed from my hair with an unladylike pout, "A woman's hair is her pride! Well, sometimes. One of." I sighed, because – as usual – the crew were laughing at me. This was one of their favourite pastimes, and I think it was simply childish, but I never did get a say in it.

"You're right," Jimmylegs agreed with Finnegan, "Women!" His grating voice was dripping with some contempt, but mostly just amusement. I was 'One of Them', so to speak, and if you sail together with a bunch of people and your (sort of) life lies in their hands constantly, you just sort of bond in the end. I've already told you, there's another story about exactly how I got into this dire situation already. These are just bits of – cough – happy memories.

"Oh well," I sighed, spreading my arms out in a defeated gesture, "My hair is already ruined anyway." Well, it was true. Working on a ship like the Dutchman, you didn't really get much in the way of personal hygiene. Also, the dyeing and careful straightening regime was right out of the window, which lead to my lovely, blonde bob going out of control and turning into a mass of uncontrolled, rolling ginger curls and frizz, with bits of seaweed entwined that I just couldn't get out, for some reason. I had near enough a bloody afro, for Christ's sake!

It was all a part of the Curse. Because our darling captain had been a Bad Boy, and had abandoned his duty to the sea goddess Calypso, causing a whole lot of drama and a whole lot of terrible half-fishy mutations. Oh, deary me; what's a girl to do? It was just impossible to remain a gorgeous sex kitten under these conditions. And I used to think... so unfair on me.

Because I could be awfully self-centred at times. But I'm not any more, of course... haha...

"Sometimes, I wonder why Cap'n Jones din't cut 'er throat and throw her overboard the second she stepped on board the ship, just to save a lot of trouble," A charming crewmember called Manray wondered aloud.

Ah. Well, I guess ole Davy Jones probably wouldn't have simply let anyone join his crew; but he was probably feeling a bit generous, and I did... err... bend the truth. A little. It's not that bad, just implying to someone that sailing was, pssht, easy, and that this here was a master navigator in the making. Sometimes, though, I suspected that he had a bet going with Maccus about how soon it would be before I died. Well, I couldn't die. But, you know... I moulded with the ship. Got washed overboard. Chopped into thousands of tiny pieces and sprinkled over the world. Just... died.

"Women aren't all bad," I said, nudging Manray rather hard, who clutched his arm in mock pain before wandering off to watch another game of liars dice take place between Clanker, Hadras and Morey. I didn't find the game all that amusing, myself... though I am a liar of a most excellent degree.

Yes, it was one of those times again – the ship was anchored, Davy was ramming on his organ, and there really was nothing much to do but talk and play Liars Dice. I was sitting, cross-legged, on top of a damp slatted crate, and a few other crewmembers were sprawled alongside me. Whenever I was with them, I got this 'little-sister-tagging-along-with-the-big-boys' feeling, but I ignored it as much as possible.

"Hmm," Palafico said – he was my closest friend on the Dutchman, though to be honest that's not really saying much – and a few other crewmembers grunted. This was a subject that was mostly ignored by men of the crew, shunted on. It was a bit taboo, love, what with Captain I-Tore-Out-My-Heart and all. But then, of course, Jimmylegs had to put forwards his opinion.

"Women get so moody," he mused, "And I reckons they's controlled by the moon."

"The... moon..." I said, slowly, raising one eyebrow in a 'you-are-so-weird' expression. A few of the crewmembers gathered laughed, but nodded anyway, listening on interested in this complete and utter madness. What dear Jimmy said next made me choke on my breath.

"It's like... phases o' the moon," He said with a shrug, "Cert'n times o' the month." At this point, I laughed out loud, and got a few startled looks.

"Oh, my..." I said, shaking my head.

"True, though," He smirked, "You gets all shouty around half-moon,"

"I do not 'get all shouty'." I snapped, going a bit red, I'd imagine, "And anyway, you're... oh dear..." I wasn't sure whether to laugh or not. "Men of this time are so ill-informed," I said, sticking my nose up.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Palafico asked.

"You're stupid," I replied.


Yes, life on board the Dutchman was amusing, annoying and embarrassing all at once. It really is sort of hard to describe. Being the only woman amongst men can be very hard indeed, believe you me. And if you share your space, your home, your everything, then... well, there isn't much space left over for any secrets. No matter how personal. I'd never realized how well the crew had come to know me... about as well as I'd come to know them. Life isn't a one-way mirror; people notice as much things about you as you notice about them.

In some cases – some particular cases – more.

Could Jimmylegs really tell that I got 'all shouty' at a certain phase of the moon, simply from watching me? True, I'd been on the Dutchman for; ooh, I don't know, three or four years now. But still, Christ, it was scary! Jimmylegs wasn't even that close a friend of mine! But when I thought about it, I knew odd little things about him – and others – too. For Jimmy, it was that vein; The Vein, we called it, like it was a person in itself; The Vein!

It popped up, pulsating on his swarthy neck whenever he was getting angry. And I would mouth to Palafico, The Vein, the Vein! Honestly. You had to stop pushing it once The Vein had spoken. One more jibe and you would probably spend the rest of the afternoon picking your teeth from the decking.

"What're you looking at?" I demanded haughtily to Palafico, as we worked on the sails a day soon afterwards, while I was contemplating all of this. Palafico blinked at me, almost thoughtfully, and didn't reply for a few moments. And then he did.

"I never noticed how big your ears were," He said with a shrug.

"What?" I put one of my hands to my ear, self-consciously, "They're not big, they're... liberal!" Palafico just chuckled as I pulled my hair over my ears with a scowl, now unable to bear the thought of him gawping at the massive satellite dishes sticking out the side of my head. "Stop making me feel ugly! It's demoralizing!"

"You're not ugly," He reassured me, clambering off across the riggings, "Considering the Sprouting situation, anyway..." I scowled at his back. Whatever.


"If you had one wish, what would it be?" I asked one day. I'd decided to make it my job to bring up random topics of conversation, as the crew of the Dutchman weren't really chatterboxes, so to speak. About fifteen voices replied.

"Get off of 'ere..." I did not want this conversation veering to 'how crap life is' again. This was a most favoured topic amongst the men, and brought the mood down considerably.

"Fine, apart from that," I said, quickly.

"That yer mouth was glued shut?" A crewmember called out. I was about to shout something back, but instead decided to turn to Palafico. See how mature I can be? I looked at him expectantly, and he looked away.

"Uh, I don't know," Palafico said uncomfortably as I turned to him. I looked at him blankly for a second, and then promptly turned to another crewmember.

"That I was dead," He sighed. This was exactly what made conversations on the Dutchman so delightful. Everyone was obsessed with death, or gore. I knew that life was definitely no picnic on board the Dutchman; I mean, the whippings are bad, the captain is a meanie, and lots of crewmembers regretted choosing this over death. But come on! I don't want to get all depressed like them!

"Oh, never mind," I sighed, "You people just can't have a decent conversation without bringing up your favouritest subject of all... dying. That is not good, people, I think a lot of you are psychologically screwed-up." I glanced to Palafico, "Not like you to be shy, though,"

"I'm not shy," He muttered, standing straight from where he'd been leaning on the wall and stretching, before striding off towards the front of the ship.

Oh, yes! I did forget to mention Palafico's promotion! His fighting skills improved so much that he became none other then Davy Jones' bodyguard. Well, even I have to admit that he can be pretty handy with those two swords of his. I never knew he was ambidextrous before he picked up two swords, one in each hand, and used them both at the same time, I mean, what a skill! Mind you, it meant he had to hang out a lot with Davy, which meant less time with me.

"Alright... what is that smell?" I asked, wrinkling my nose, and glancing around at the other men, a few minutes later. The conversation had started again, and then petered out. And now there was the smell. "Ahh! Oh my god! No!" My mouth would have dropped open then, but I was afraid of being gassed, "No way! You are monsters! The terror of the seas! No..." I backed away, "You do not fart... ack!"

Men... men! As I walked away, I thought, I've said it before, and I'll say it again... Men! Aargh!

NB: Bibsy's back, bitches! Alright, so you may want to read the other story if you don't want to read this one. Basically, a series of half-joined oneshots full of fun times on the Dutchman; it was terrible, but sometimes it could be ever so slightly funny... I've always thought sequels, especially with the main character being an OC, are horribly... well, horrible. But hopefully, this one wont be like that.

So, disclaimer; I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, in fact, the only thing about this story I do own is probably the rather ultra-crazy and slightly dim-witted Bibsy.