Prologue

There are many things insignificant; an example being a fool's dream. A fool may dream away the years but without the strength to put it into action, it will never have the strength to be born into a reality. That fool will rot in the mind and the body before his time is up. It will spread across the years, decaying and twisting till at last, with a last breath, it is realized what was once gold is now sand. In a sense, it is realized, it was never anything at all. So it curls up and dies like the pitiful creature it always had been… a cursed fool and a cursed dream.

If anything, Davey Jones wasn't a fool… he was far too determined for that.

He was born with three knots in his cord. Ripped from his mother's womb he was born in blood and sorrow. He knew not the warm touch of a soft hand or the familiar whisper of a loving tone. All was harsh and blunt. Knocked between two stones he grew and by the age of 10 he was familiar with the sails and the mast, the rock of the waves and the fury of the ocean. He knew the sea better and more passionately than any other his age. She was his reason for any happiness and her nature caused countless bounds of excitement and joy.

True, born into poverty he wasn't to make much. His childhood was spent on the cliffs of the West Coast of Scotland; gazing out into the stretching blue with perhaps a small inkling of what might be. Before he could read he could gut a fish and before he could write he could sail the fishing boat by himself and conquer the stormy sea. Only when he was 15 -hardened by the fist of men and made strong by the salt air- did he come across a book. Sitting in the shambles hut on the floor of sea shells, sand, sawdust and dried blood did he first see her. The book was called 'Legends and Myths of the Sea', which the local minister had given him in exchange for 2 vats of pickled herring. He thought it a worthy trade. For hours on end he would stare at the etchings of ship wrecks and sea monsters, content in believing it all to be true. The words were difficult to pronounce and so he didn't bother until he saw an etching which enchanted him. Beneath it he was able to make out the words 'Calypso'. A beautiful women's face, scorned by a strange and unknown cause, peered out at him. Her mouth solemn, her eyes large and her waves of hair surrounded her like tentacles. Each day, with a new found determination, he would learn a new word. From what scrap of education he had, it took him months to learn the secrets of the mysterious woman but he did… and it read as such:

'Calypso. Daughter of Atlas and Tethys, sea nympth and Heathen Goddess of the ocean. Said to ferry the spirits of those who died at sea to the underworld. She controls every aspect of the ocean and is recognised by sea men as the cause of treacherous storms and still waters alike. Said to take the form of a woman she can be called upon by a sailor who can give worthy offering.'

So it was a dream had started… it grew and grew within the impressionable mind who had so much to offer. The pictures of pirates and treasure chests also made an effect… one that would shape his life forever.

At 17 years he left the 'god forsaken' fishing village and all its 'cursed' residents. He decided to catch a ship ,working on deck , which headed out to the Bay of Bengal. It was hard work but the salty spray and the cry of the gulls kept his spirits high. Each dark, clouded sky and vicious wind was sacred because she was in it. At times he felt as if she surrounded him, playfully aware of his desires and his affections for her. No daughter of earth could compare to the radiance and meaning within that etching, of which he kept close to his heart, always in his breast pocket.

Eventually at the age of 21, on a port off the coast of Jamaica did he have his first encounters with pirates. From then on it all began to set in motion. Success, love, betrayal, revenge… it was all to batter him like churning waves. All in the whispers of a lover's prayer.