Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean.
It had been over a day since I had been mutinied, and already this beach felt like my prison…like I had no hopes of escape. Every time I ran my fingers through the sand or picked some up to let it cascade from my hand, I felt depression set in deeper. The sand was like my clock, ticking by just as quickly, yet slowly, as the sand dropped from my palm.
My pistol was looking better and better with each passing hour in the hot sun, but I refused to let my thoughts or eyes wander long. I knew I just had to wait for the crew that used this island to come, but when would they come? Would they even help me?
I curse Barbosa. This bullet is for his heart, but sadly, I know that the next time we shall meet will be when he is already immortal from thievery. Thus, I can't help but stray to thoughts of raising the barrel to my own temple. Relief from the sun, from worry, from…everything. Death would be quick and simple. But, alas, to lose my soul to Davy Jones and miss my freedom on the seas forever. It wasn't worth it.
But I grew ravenous and the small fire which I had built even taunted me. I saw images of dancing people; they were feasting and drinking rum. My dreams were quite the same only vivid with color. Yet, I could not consent to pull the trigger.
So, I would wait for a little bit longer. And eventually, the crew did come. I made it off the island. It's history now. I chose to put those days behind me and simply seek out my treacherous crew. They had stripped everything from me save a few possessions. I wanted my ship. And to me, it still was my ship…it was just out on loan. Yes, I was the captain. I am Captain Jack Sparrow.