A/N: Well, this is chapter 3! I know I haven't written in awhile, but I've been busy with school and everything, this chapter is a bit lengthier than the other two, but I wish I could still make them longer.

Disclaimer: Don't own any characters from the movie.

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The ocean tingled on her warm toes as the waves swept across the beach. Mary inhaled the sweet, salty air as the wind whipped her hair around her face. She dugs her feet into the warm sand and looked out at the endless sea. The feeling was wonderful.

"MARRRRRYYYY!!! MARY!! Mary! Come back into the house! You're going to be late!!!" Mary snapped back to reality. "Oh bugger! She silently exclaimed as she slipped on her shoes. Mary still had to get dressed and redo her hair, it was a terrible mess.

Little Edgar was the source of all the yelling. "How are you going to get past Mrs. Mcginly? She'll box your ears if she catches you" He whispered from the window above.

Mary looked around and over at the tress the ascended the side of the orphanage wall. "Here, catch!" She threw up her shoes to Edgar and he caught them with ease. He then realized what she was about to do. "Mary! Don't! You'll fall!"

Mary just rolled her eyes. She placed her bare feet in the openings of the tress and started to climb it like at ladder. "Watch out Edgar!" Mary stuck her head into the window and pushed herself into the room, head first.

"Nicely done. Miss graceful." Edgar said helping Mary up.

"Oh shut up." Mary retorted picking up her shoes and rushing over to her trunk to get dressed. "Now get out so I can dress in peace." Edgar rolled his eyes and went downstairs.

Mary took off her dirty nightgown and slipped on a simple, solid blue dress. She ran a comb through her long brown-black hair a few times, and pinned it back absentmindedly. Mary darted under her bed for the proper shoes, so in a rush that she put her left shoe on her right foot. As soon as she got herself together, she jumped down the stairs, two at a time.

"Morning Ms. McGinly!" She said crossing the dumpy old kitchen, the yells of the other children filling the room. Ms. McGinly opened her mouth to speak but Mary was already out the door, grabbing an apple as she went.

It was an unusually cold day on the island, the sky couldn't seem to decide whether it wanted to rain or not. Of course, it was busy as always, merchants selling everything from fish to tobacco, which by the way, when combined did not make the most attractive smell. And even this early in the morning, you could still see a few ladies of the night scouting for prospective clients. The cold wind stung Mary's cheeks as she crunched her apple, juice dripping onto her sleeve. She was halfway done with the apple when she opened the door to the Landlubber, the pub where she worked on Saturdays and Sundays, the thick warm air hitting her square in the face. A frazzled looking woman popped out from underneath the bar.

"Oh thank heavens!" She said, scurrying over to Mary, four or five empty mugs in her arms.

"I am so sorry Clara, I kn--" Clara waved her hand absentmindedly. "It doesn't matter, you're here now dear." She said dumping the mugs into Mary's arms.

"I just got word that TWO merchant ships heading this way from Port James." Clara said as she picked up more mugs and empty rum bottles strewn across the many tables, handing them to Mary as she went.

"They should be making port by tomorrow, and you know how those sailors like their rum."

"Oh yes, of course." Mary said, readjusting the contents in her arms.

"And, well of course, we are fresh out of rum." Clara said walking around the bar, grabbing a grubby gray shawl from off a stool. "So I now I must go back to my house and get some more to bring here."

"Wait, you're leaving now?" Mary dumped the mugs and bottles on the bar.

"Well, of course, dear. I have to go back to the house and down to the cellar."

Mary sighed, and glanced out the window. Now one would assume, being that the Landlubber was the only half-decent pub on the island, Clara would have a use for the cellar that was now padlocked around back. But seeing as how Port Rochester was frequented by Pirates, (only less than Tortuga) many of them had the habit of sneaking down to the cellar and stealing the drink of their choice.

"Well I'm off." Clara said, adjusting her mobcap atop her head. The cold air rushed back in as she opened the door, tingling Mary's cheeks again.

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"LAND HO!" Gibbs shouted from the deck of the Pearl.

Jack scurried over to the bow putting his spyglass up to his kohl-lined eye. Port Rochester was still quite a bit a way but Jack figured they would make port by the afternoon.

Jack hunched over the railing, thinking hard. What was Mary going to say when she saw him? Would she even recognize him at all, for that matter? It had been nine whole years since she'd last seen him. She was only a child then. And assuming he had done his math right, Mary would be around fourteen now. A young woman.

"No turning back now…" Jack said to himself, straightening himself up.

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"Come on, Bartholomew, you old git!" Clara yelled at the emaciated old donkey, snapping the reins of the wagon, determined to make him move. Clara had loaded the wagon with an assortment of drinks, as much as she thought her old donkey could handle.

After another failed attempt, Clara finally got Bartholomew to move. She wished he'd go faster, Clara wanted to get back to the pub and make sure Mary was alright. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, Clara spotted an ancient looking man frantically running across the road. He was shouting something, but the rattling of the bottles and the clopping of Bartholomew's hooves, drowned his voice out. Clara stopped the wagon.

"What are you going on about sir?" The old man looked up at her, breathing heavily, sweat forming on his brow.

"The Black Pearl! The Black Pearl is on its way 'ere! I saws it wif me own two eyes, mum." He said. "Cap'n Jack Sparrow is makin' port 'ere!"

The townspeople around him looked on in surprise. No major pirate like Jack Sparrow had ever bothered to dock in Port Rochester before.

'Jack Sparrow…' Clara thought. 'Why in God's green earth would he ever m—'

Clara gasped.

"Oh dear…" She snapped the reins as hard as she could. "Get moving Bartholomew!"