The weather was not friendly that night. The sea was violent, waves crashing down, the storm was not looking any better. Deafening claps of thunder were barely heard over the howling winds. Most ships were docked and safe from the torrential rain, but one was battling on. One with black sails.
The intemperate ocean rose and fell, foam spilling like blood pouring out of the wounds the impact of the waves left on the water. The moon was hidden by clouds, and not a single star dared to show it's face in the thunderous sky, streaked with the vehement bolts of lightning.
The waves crashed together, tossing a ship around on the sea, threatening to capsize The Black Pearl. It's crew was getting tossed around until they could barely stand, every one of them soaking through. But still they worked hard, as their Captain ordered. Jack Sparrow paced the deck impatiently. "Are we there yet?" he complained. "Not yet Cap'n, but we be nearing it." replied his loyal first mate, Mr Gibbs.
Jack paced up and down the deck, muttering to himself. He knew that if he didn't sail through the storm, it would take another two days to reach Port Royal, and he needed to get there faster. He had been counting on the weather, but it had turned on him. Two of his crew had gone overboard and been claimed by the cruel ocean, pulling them below the surface down to Davy Jones' Locker. Jack knew that it was his fault they had gone, but the storm was only going to delay them, and he couldn't afford to be delayed, not at a time like this.
"Can't this bloody tub go any faster?" Jack cursed.
"Cap'n, this be the Pearl. It's the fastest ship around." Mr Gibbs knew that if Jack was cursing the Pearl, he must be anxious. He swallowed a mouthful of rum from his ever present leather flask, and thought for a moment.
"Cap'n, we are near Tortuga." Jack looked up. "Mate, not even Tortuga can soothe me spirits now. I need to get to Port Royal or I'm a dead man."