She lay in the bottom of the boat, her body battered and worn, her dress sun-bleached and caked with sand, salt and blood. Her lips were blistered and scabbed. The girl's long hair was matted with blood. Her right leg was covered with blood, as was the bottom of the longboat. She was, for all purposes, dead.
That was the sight that greeted Joshamee Gibbs as he peered through the spyglass at the horizon. For a moment, he was speechless. As he was recovering, he shouted for the Captain.
Captain Jack Sparrow sauntered up to his first mate. "What is it, Gibbs?" Mr. Gibbs handed his captain the spyglass.
"I think it's a woman."
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The boat has successfully been pulled aboard The Black Pearl. The woman, however, was another matter. She appeared dead, but was in fact, breathing, however shallow it was. Jack approached the motionless figure and unabashedly lifted up her dress to the level of the wound on her thigh. It was a disgusting, gaping bullet hole. Tinged with black and traces of green and purple, the smell was enough to make a stronger man grow faint.
Not Jack Sparrow, though. He had seen many wounds in his life. Not many compared to this one though. He decided that a little trip upriver would be necessary.
Now, this was by no means normal behavior for Jack Sparrow. In bygone days, he would have said "To hell with the wench" and tossed her overboard. No, this was not the same rum-soaked (well, maybe a little bit) pirate from years before. He was a changed man now. With the dying in the Kraken bit, and being saved from the edges of the world, he figured that he might as well try to be a little more compassionate towards others. Only a little though.