Found

Prologue

I was born a bastard child to a wench in Tortuga. There is nothing special about my story except for the people in it, and the fact that I saw what some people believe is just some old seaman's tale. But I can assure you, it really happened. So relax, pull up a chair, and prepare to hear the real story of the Black Pearl, Cap'n Jack, Davy Jones and Captain Hector Barbossa.

I'll start from the beginning, as I mentioned before I was the bastard child of a wench on the small island of Tortuga. I was unwanted, but kept none the less when I was found to be a girl (You see my mother wanted me to continue in the family business when I was of age). The only family I had was my mother and my older sister, Scarlett.

At the age of four I was taught the art of theft and pick pocketing. At six I was an expert. My mother dressed me in a lad's clothing so I'd blend in better; she kept my flaming red hair in a black bandana as well.

It worked; I was excellent at what I did. I brought home gold to my mother hoping she'd let me stay a thief even after I became older and more developed.

But unfortunately for me, my mother was not the one who determined my fate.

As time went on I got cocky with my skills as a pick pocket. I was the best of all the local children and I knew it. Even when caught if I cried loud enough everyone let me go. I was 12 years old and unstoppable.

Although one clear night I chose the wrong man to pick pocket, he was obviously rich, he was wearing fine clothes and a large, red overcoat with big, shiny, gold buttons. I felt the greed in my veins and I stalked after him. He didn't appear drunk so I knew if I were to catch him I'd have to be quick.

I followed him as he went inside 'The Faithful Bride' and waited patiently in the bushes for him to leave. Once he did he appeared to be going back towards the docks, I knew it was my time to strike. Quick and quiet I stalked him and then I made my move. I lightly placed my small hand in his bulging coat pocket.

I let out a yell as my hand was grabbed.

"What do we have here?" He asked with a menace in his voice. I looked up at him, his brown eyes held amusement and a sinister quality I did not like one bit. His long black hair was messy and he had a smirk on his lips.

I started crying, loudly. I even looked into his eyes as I did it. 'That gets 'em every time' I thought to myself.

He laughed. "That will NOT work this time, Missy. You are going to pay dearly for your actions." He had a gruff voice.

I immediately stopped crying and started fighting. But it was no use. I was half pulled half carried to his large ship. I thought my life was about to see its last day. I had no idea how wrong I was.

When I got aboard I was appalled to see most of the crew members looking at me as though I was a whore, I'd seen that gaze my entire life, but never directed at me.

I was taken below by my left arm, once we got to the lowest level which contained two large jail-like cells. The one on the left had three women in it, all about my age or older. "Welcome to the brig, Missy." The man said as he opened the door and threw me in.

I was on that ship for three weeks. The other girls in the 'brig' with me were as mystified about our destination as I was. We didn't speak much at all, too frightened to do anything but wait.

When we were retrieved I was forced into wearing a cheap white dress. I put it on and we were taken, all tethered together with rope, to an auction. A wench auction, we were the wenches.

I was seething with anger, for years I had dreaded this fate, and now it was forced upon me too early. My dark eyes scanned the crowd; it was full of horrid, awful, and stinky men. Mostly pirates by the looks of 'em, but unexpectedly some of the men were wearing Royal Navy uniforms.

I was sold to a privateer captain by the name of Berry. I spent ten years being his whore, and I will not tell you of the injustices I saw and experienced. That is a tale too dark and gruesome for me to dwell on now. I was half starved most of the time, beaten for even the smallest of transgressions, and used in the vilest of ways.

My years there were not wasted however. Whenever I was not 'needed' I snuck into the library of the ship and absorbed as much knowledge as I could in a short amount of time, I taught myself to read and my letters in the middle of the night on that ship.

For a span of two years a Crewman named Peter Clark took a fancy to me. I never had an attraction for him other than friendship, but I was able to convince him to help me learn combat. When everyone else was sleeping him and I would sneak to the lower decks and he'd teach me everything he could. Even after he died in a freak drowning, I still continued to practice his teaching. Even then I never knew how those skills would be so useful.

But the treatment I received broke me down. I barely used my voice, I had been trained to not look at anyone in the eyes, I was starved, but somehow I emotionally kept myself strong, just out of pure iron will. I wasn't ready to die, but I had no reason to live. And just when I thought that there was no hope, a black hearted man saved my life.

That man was Captain Hector Barbossa.