Joanna knew as much as the average person did about ships; that is to say, not very much. The Interceptor seemed like a fine specimen to her, though, as she examined it from all angles.

A tidy hatch led from the top deck to the one beneath, where the crew evidently slept. Hammocks, swaying gently with the rolling of the ship, stretched between any available beams. Some of the hammocks were accompanied by squat, battered sea chests, which Joanna perused with interest.

They were mostly barren, their owners stranded in Port Royal, but after enough snooping Joanna secured herself a pair of trousers, too dark to show stains, and (blessedly) a needle with thread. The needle was horrifically bent but, Joanna resolved, beggars can't be choosers. Finally, she thieved a small comb, missing most of its teeth. But it did the job, and soon Joanna's hair floated in its uneven waves above her shoulders.

Her shoes, not designed for watery treks across the seafloor, were completely ruined. Luckily enough, a pair of boots hid in a dark corner. When Joanna experimentally stuck her foot into one of them, she was surprised to find it a size too small. Better than no shoes, though, so she traded her feminine heels for leather boots.

She emerged victorious from belowdecks, arms full of salty-smelling fabric. She immediately dropped them in shock. "Hey!" She hollered, charging to the quarterdeck, where Jack had Will dangling off the side of the ship. She was bereft of her sword, but she had her mouth, so she fired that in earnest. "Haven't you had enough of trying to kill us?"

"This 's entirely self-defense, I assure you," Jack said unconvincingly. He eyed her appraisingly, then said, "You might as well pay attention, now that you're here."

Joanna stood aghast as Jack turned to Will, who scrambled to keep his precarious hold on the yardarm. "Now listen here. The only rules that really matter are these: what a man can do, and what a man can't do. For instance, you can accept that your father was a good man and a pirate --" Joanna's jaw dropped, "-- or you can't. But pirate is in your blood, boy, so you'll have to square with that someday."

"That's true?" Joanna cut in, incredulous.

"Gospel," Jack replied with a quicksilver smile, before continuing his harangue. "Now me, for instance. I can let you drown --" Will visibly paled, "-- but I can't bring this ship into Tortuga all by me onesie, savvy? So..."

Jack spun the helm and the yard consequently soared back to the Interceptor, depositing Will onto the deck without fanfare. Joanna thought to rush forward and guard Will against Jack's unpredictable wiles, but something in the air stopped her. Whatever this was, it was between the two of them.

Jack stood over Will, holding Will's own sword to his chin. "Can you sail under the command of a pirate?" Jack inquired. He tossed the cutlass and gracefully caught it by the blade, offering the hilt to Will. "Or can you not?"

Will took the sword, dispelling the tension. Joanna felt free to breathe again. "Tortuga?" She asked.

Jack grinned at her and stepped back to the helm, righting their course. "Tortuga," he affirmed. "Find a solution to the ankle conundrum, did we?" He asked, motioning to the clothes Joanna had abandoned on the deck in her haste.

"Indeed," Joanna replied as she extended a hand to Will and heaved him to his feet. She gazed over the deck, squinting at the trousers. "I'll have to alter them, but that's no trouble."

"What?" Will's stare followed her own. "Oh. Joanna, are those --"

"Stolen men's clothes? Yes," Joanna smirked and trotted down the stairs. "I don't fancy flashing my ankles around any longer, especially in Tortuga."

Will followed her timidly. "Joanna, are you...is that your sword stuck in your dress?"

Joanna frowned down at it. "You noticed. Well, I don't have a convenient belt like you do, William."

After a pause, Will shrugged; fair enough.

Joanna snatched her treasures from the deck and settled herself against the mainmast, hunching into a familiar pose over the needle. "Now I'd appreciate some quiet while I fix these up, please."

"As you wish," Will acquiesced with a fond shake of his head. He left Joanna to it.

The spool of black thread Joanna pilfered was small and lacking, but it provided enough that Joanna could cinch the waist of the pants. She pulled each stitch with breezy confidence -- she knew her measurements by heart. The legs would be too long, unfortunately, but she could tuck them into the boots.

Once finished, she stood and glanced around the deck. Will was nowhere to be found -- perhaps exploring the lower decks, as she had earlier -- and Jack dawdled at the helm, one hand idly stroking the wheel as he studied his compass. He had discarded his coat in surrender to the Caribbean sun.

As if feeling the weight of her stare, he looked up, meeting her eyes. Slowly, he smirked.

Joanna had sprung a man from jail, stolen a ship, and committed further thievery in the form of someone's britches and shoes. She might as well do one more dangerous thing. So Joanna held his gaze as she stepped into the pants, right there on the deck, and pulled them to rest beneath her dress.

She wouldn't call it flirting. She'd call it presenting a challenge. Jack took it; he looped a noose around the wheel to keep it steady, cast off his hat, and trotted down the stairs to join her at the mast.

"Good afternoon," she told him as he approached. "How do I look?"

"The envy of the court, darling," he replied playfully. His hands meandered through the air as he spoke, flapping in the vague direction of her hips. "The improvised sheath really pulls it all together."

Joanna huffed a laugh and jostled it. "To make me look like a fool, I'm sure."

After a moment of thought, Jack reached for one of the two belts he wore, slipping it from his waist. Joanna was about to ask him what the hell he was doing until he extended it to her. "Would this do, milady?"

Joanna blushed and accepted the gift. The leather strap, adorned by a wide, corroded buckle, was heavy and dull from abuse. A loop for a sword adorned the side. "Thank you," she said.

She imagined how it would look around her hips -- brutish and unfeminine, probably -- and then Joanna was struck with a vision of a possible version of herself: tall and unflappable without the burden of skirts, minacious with swords and pistols.

She carefully relegated the belt to rest on a nearby crate. "I think this skirt has outlived its use, don't you?" Joanna asked rhetorically, already seeing it lying in pieces at her feet.

The sound of sliding metal; Joanna accepted the proffered cutlass from Jack. She sliced and diced her skirts once more, shearing off a long, thick strip of chartreuse. At long last, the dress was decommissioned into a long shirt, hovering above her thighs.

Jack scooped up the scrap of fraying fabric, saying, "Waste not." He stepped close enough to Joanna she could smell him -- salt and sweat and dust -- and wrapped the improvised sash around her waist.

Joanna was affronted by Jack's indecorum but also hopelessly intrigued by all of his idiocracies. She swallowed a protest and stood breathless until he pulled away, at which point she murmured, "Are you trying to make me into a pirate?"

Jack Sparrow had dark, deep eyes, made large by black makeup, and they were fixed steadily on her own. "And what if I was?" He asked, nicking the belt from the crate and stepping close once more.

Joanna's heart was so loud and fast she wondered why Jack did not comment on its undignified behavior. "I think it would take a bit more than this," she replied breathily.

Air rushed between them as Jack extricated himself. "The look's about half of it," he sagely informed her. "Perhaps in Tortuga we can get to that other fifty-percent."

Joanna raised an eyebrow and turned, finding her rapier resting against the mainmast. "I look forward to it," she said, then felt a severe calm fall over her as she slid the sword into the sheath at her hip. She looked greedily at the hilt, admiring way the silver caught the light, and felt a power she had never before.

"Suits you," Jack said. She looked up; he was grinning, eyes like a cobra's.

~

Joanna knew Tortuga as a pirate town -- a port of scoundrels and villains, running with vile spirits and dishonorable ladies of the night. When the iniquitous rock emerged from the horizon, a dark silhouette against the orange sky, Joanna gazed at it hungrily. She wondered if those stories were true, or fabrications of society determined to cleanse her of aspirations and agency.

Will joined her at the forecastle deck. His hands, dirtier than they had been the previous day, wrapped and unwrapped anxiously around the railing.

"I've never seen a sunset like this," Joanna said quietly. This far into the sea, it seemed to surround the Interceptor, encasing them in smears of marigold and vermillion. The sea rolled dark beneath them, swathed with periwinkle foam.

"I sometimes forget you've never left Port Royal before," Will replied, eyes fixed on the dark smudge of their destination. "You've always seemed worldly to me."

Joanna chuckled, glancing up at Will's ruminant face. She remembered a time when she'd been taller than him -- a very short period of time, ending about a year after Will's arrival in Port Royal when he shot up like a weed. "I had to learn everything, since you always had so many damn questions," she ribbed with a fond smile.

She expected Will to rag her back, tell her she didn't know half as much as she thought. But he looked at his hands, sighing through his nose. "You seem to know a lot about pirates," he said, subdued. "For something I never asked questions about."

Joanna stiffened with surprise. "Are you -- are you having me on?" She hissed, feeling rattled and stung. "Do you realize how ridiculous you sound, Will, insinuating I should only learn about things of which you approve."

Will's feet shuffled awkwardly and he looked contrite. "That's not what I meant," he said. "I just didn't expect someone like you to --"

"What you meant," Joanna bit at him, "Is that you don't think I should be educated in something you find so vile. Or perhaps because I'm a girl, I shouldn't be interested in things like that." She couldn't believe what she was about to say, but the susurration came out regardless. "You sound like my father," she muttered and saw Will flinch.

They both stewed silently in the unrest that followed her statement. "I was out of line," Will said finally because he was a much better person than Joanna. "I'm sorry."

Ignominy rushed in to replace Joanna's ire. "Thanks," she said quietly. She exhaled. "I'm sorry for overreacting."

"You didn't." Will said as he turned away. Before he left, though, he said, "Thanks for answering all those questions for me."

Her churlish mood faded in an instant. "Anytime," she said, giving Will a smile bright with relief.

Will left her and she turned back to the grand visage of the Caribbean. Tortuga grew ever closer.

Perhaps in Tortuga we can get to that other fifty-percent, Jack had said. Joanna reflected with mordant amusement that if she did, she probably would never hear William thank her for anything ever again.