Jack was alone for the third night in a row. Somehow the bonfire before him failed to keep him warm. Rather, failed to keep him as warm as a woman's body lying right next to his. He was sent to his private island against his own will, once again. Left without a name, without a boat, and a single pistol with a single bullet. The last time he was here, he was with Elizabeth and his cache of rum. Rum that was aged perfectly, sweet yet rough. Very much like Elizabeth. But neither were there.

Elizabeth had piled all of his rum and lit it on fire the last time they were together, the last time on this island. He noticed that she wasn't one to handle hangovers very well. Jack had gone so far as to convince himself that had to be why she wasted the precious amber liquid.

"To think that I gave her my rum the night before. MY rum. I'll never do that again, unless of course there was a very handsome ship at the other end of the bargain. Or more rum. Yes! That will be my new rule: never give rum to a woman unless there is more rum to come! Hey look, I rhymed!" He proclaimed to the palm tree next to him, looking very amused with himself.

Jack, unwillingly sobering up, had taken up talking to this tree. To cover up the fact that his newest companion was in fact inanimate, he drew a happy face on it with fruit pulp, as if it would somehow save him from losing his mind completely. Unfortunately Captain Sparrow was unaware that his mind had even left to begin with.

"You know mate," he poked the tree a few times, "You ought to find me a boat. A big one too, don't be greedy. That's my job. And when you find me that boat," he pointed at the tree, "You are to bring me a crew. I am going to find Elizabeth." Jack wobbled his head a bit, "Savvy?"

Said woman was the one who banished him here to this very island. Elizabeth lost everything she had ever wanted to Jack. If it wasn't for the fact that he would have escaped the Black Pearl and caused further havoc for the crew had he done so, she wouldn't have kissed him. She wouldn't have lost Will. When Jack came back from the abyss, she blamed him, tore him down until she was reduced to tears. At that, she pointed his sword at his throat, commanding him to walk the plank.

"Now that was a homecoming, if I do say so myself. I still don't understand what the eunuch has that I don't... I know what I have that he doesn't. That lass has her priorities all wrong, eh mate? What good is a eunuch anyway? Aside from making swords, mind you."

He was going to get her back, he was going to show Elizabeth exactly what he had compared to Will. That was freedom, adventure, and certain anatomical parts that her ex-fiancé lacked. It was then that he saw sails on the horizon. Long, flowing, blue sails. Coming directly for the island.

"Good work, mate," Jack complimented the ever-inanimate palm tree.