A seagull was calling loudly.

I tried to block the intense morning light from piercing into my eye, but the more I held them shut, the louder the seagull became. I was waking up, and it was horrible. My head was pounding and everything ached. How much had I drank?

Slowly, I let my eyelids flutter open and felt the stabbing pain of a most dreadful hangover razor through my sinuses. Where was I? I looked down and found I was sleeping inside a coil of rope. A coil of rope? Thick musty twine really didn't offer much in the way of comfort. But considering some of the places I have slept in the past few weeks, it wasn't that bad.

I breathed in deeply and took in the sweet salt air. I loved waking up to the scent of the sea.

I really ought to have been a little more aghast since, from what it looked like, I was on a ship. A very strange ship I had never seen before.

Out of nowhere, a shadow came into my view. I shielded my eyes from the sun and squinted. Looking down at me with a wide emerald stare was a very young girl. Now, I knew very well that when I went to sleep it had been the end of April. But, by the looks of the child, it had to have been Halloween. She had on a little red bandana and on it was a series of painted black bones. Her shirt was blue and green striped and it was tucked into a long black skirt. Over it was tied a bright red sash that dangled and wavered in the breeze. I looked down, her socks were striped too and she wore little buckled shoes. I saw a flash of silver, in the shape of a hook, glitter at the base of her left arm before she hid them behind her while rocking back and forth on her heels.

"What's yer name? I be Eliza Smythe, I be a pyrate! Are ye? Ye don't look like a pyrate. Maybe yer a Muggle pirate? Are those Muggle tattoos? They don't move. How old are ye? I be nine and one quarter…"

"Eliza! Leave the poor boy alone. He has had quite a night." A woman of wonderful beauty walked forward along the deck, with her hand on the rail. She had on a long, flowing, white dress. Chains of gold roped around her waist and neck, glittering in the sun. Her dark curly hair fluttered in the breeze. If ever I had an image that accompanied the words 'Island Princess' this lovely apparition replaced it.

The little girl smiled. But it was more than that; she lit up like an angel. Her little wild blonde locks shined and her vivid green eyes flashed. Only a mother's voice could bring a look of such joy to a little girl's face. She turned and ran to the woman and was engulfed in an embrace.

"Forgive her. Eliza's curiosity outweighs her." She picked up the child and held her around her waist. The woman slowly turned and started back down the ship's deck, singing a low song. The little girl peered over her shoulder and flashed a mischievous grin. For some reason, I recognized that expression. The girl's hair and eyes brought back another image to my mind.

"Possedè!" I sighed.

Suddenly, the previous night's events came flooding back into my memory. I had be wondering along the dingy part of the port of New Orleans considering my luck. I hadn't eaten in a few days and was having trouble sleeping. Looking out over the water and at the stars I couldn't help but think, "There has to be something else out there. I have to be meant for more than this." A life of desolation and near starvation. It wasn't what I felt in my blood. I felt more, a spark, something in me was dying to be more. But how was I, a child, supposed to build a life for myself? No family, no friends. Sporadic, at best, odd jobs that earned me a few meals. My hands graced over the dark nautical tattoos on my wrists, marks of a better time.

The night air became too laden with sorrow for me to stand by and drown in it. I walked on. The buildings became unfamiliar and indeed, very strange. But it didn't matter where I was; I didn't have a home to become too far from. Where my feet were was all I had. The cobblestones sparkled under my shoes and the street became unnaturally lit. I looked around and could not find its source. There were no street lamps, the buildings around me were dark and closed. It was then that I heard a shout followed by a deep guttural laugh.

I followed the sounds around a corner into a thin winding alleyway. An amber glow flooded from a swinging door. Above the frame was a little wooden sign swinging creakily in the breeze. It read, "The Scurvy Dog." Inside there was much noise and music. I had no money, nor was I old enough to drink at a bar. But I was tired, and hungry, and had nowhere else to go. So I pushed back the door and entered.

Inside I was greeted with a most unusual sight. The bar was filled with grungy sea goers. They reeked of water and dank ships. Many were in odd nautical fashions. Some, even brought to mind childhood stories of Peter Pan and Captain Hook, for they were covered in eyepatches and long tattered coats. Scars danced across their faces and down to missing appendages. There was a piano in the corner and a man with a pegleg was playing a rowdy shanty. Several others were singing along, swishing drinks over themselves and others. Off on the other side, near the bar three men were engaged in a vicious fight, much to the amusement of another group. Someone broke a chair over someone else's head and the bar cheered. It was wild.

I hadn't realized I had been noticed until I felt a thick hand on my shoulder. I raised my head and followed the arm up to a very roguish looking grin that sparkled with gold and silver.

"Lost are ye, my boy? Arrrah," he growled at me. I found myself lost for words. He was quite large for a normal man, and was dressed like the captain of some ancient pirate ship, complete with skull and bones on his black tri-cornered hat. I was in a bar full of pirate ghosts. There was no other explanation.

He steered me toward a seat at the bar, and I ran through every possible reason a ghost's hand should feel so solid. Just than a lanky man on the other side of the room stood up and yelled.

"Ye bloody cheat! Yer th' lowest, foulest seawizard in th' Caribbean!" He pulled out a short stubby stick from his belt and held it menacingly toward the object of his insults.

"Ye smarmy scut! We're not in th' Caribbean! We be in Nor'lands!" a heavily bearded man shouted back.

"Oh, right ye are then. Accio Rum!" A bottle flew across the room through the air and into his outstretched hand. He laughed and sat back down with the bearded man and continued their card game.

I stammered something. What the hell was going on? Who were these people? My attention was drawn back to the overly large man on my left. He was still grinning, his dirty blonde hair tangling about his face.

"Care for a drink, lad? Tonight is goin' to be a very interestin' indeed…" he held out a dirty glass of dark alcohol.

"Cho! Co!" was all I could muster in surprise.

The last thing I remember clearly was taking a swig. Everything else was a blur. A blur filled with red sparks and shattering glasses, strange languages and pirates.

I scuttled to my feet, tripping on the rope and stumbling toward the ship's rail. My hands held tight and I looked over the edge. The beautiful blue ocean chopped and wavered against the ships hull. It was like a very strange dream.

"Sleep well, boy?" Startled, I whipped around. My evening companion was standing before me. His dirty blonde hair was tied behind his head and he stared down at me with the same shade green eyes as the little girl. I noticed now the thick gold rings in his ears and the long green coat that was covered in buttons, patches, holes and bloodstains. Over the coat he had a thick black leather belt and matching baldric. My eyes were drawn to the myriad of weapons worn like common accessories. There was a large sword shoved into the left side of his belt, daggers sticking out of either black and gold buckled boot, a old fashioned flintlock pistol at his right side and some sort of wooden stick holstered to the baldric across his chest.

"Weh…Mias, decent," I stammered. My voice betraying my confusion and fear.

"How old are ye, boy?"

"I'm 15 and my name is Jacque. "

"Only 15, aye? Well, ye look strong 'nuff. Can ye manage ship's work? Know yer sails?"

"Mias, weh." My hands absentmindedly rubbed at the tattoos on my wrists. "A few odd jobs on some fishin' boats over the years. I'm a hard worker, chief."

"I though ye would be. Lost soul as well, isn't that true? Not a friend in all the world?" I wondered what my drunk ramblings betrayed to this stranger.

"Not a podna to speak'a. Ma defan Papa, pauvre Maman…"

"Born to muggles and never knew what were in yer blood? No non-magic folk could have found 'The Scurvy Dog' like ye did last night. And none could've picked up a wand and done the things ye did. Wizard is in ye, Jacque. Seawizard. And I'd be damned if I were ter see ye go to waste." I was growing more confused as he spoke, trying to recall more from the evening and drawing an even darker blank.

From the inside of his coat he pulled out another long thin rod of dark wood. He tossed it through the air towards me. I watched in spin slowly, almost unaffected by the down pull of gravity. I caught it with my right hand and felt a surge of electricity run up into my arm. Sparks of silver jetted from the tip and I felt like I had grown several feet in height. I felt powerful.

"That be a wand, my boy. Think of it as yer first payment fer a week's worth of work. Room and board as well."

"Chief?" He laughed at my confused look and in a booming voice called to me.

"I be Captain Nathaniel Smythe, the Soothsayin' Hooligan. This be my ship, The Defiant. I am offerin' ye a life o' adventure, an' equal share in all th' treasures we hunt. I be offerin' ye a life of high seas and billowin' sails, a life of," he leaned in close and said with deep voice, "pyracy. What say ye? Go on account an' join me an' my crew?"

My eyes traveled skyward over the many ballooned striped sails and fixed upon a black swaying flag. On it a skull smiled and laughed, winking its one red pentagram eye. Under the skull floated a crossed sword and wand. The mark of one of the most infamous seawizards of the time, the mark of a pyrate. It unfurled in the wind.

"F'sure, chief!"

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