Jack ran down the streets of Port Royal in his usual drunken, feminine manner, the beads and trinkets and bits of shiny things in his hair swinging about his face.

He had just sailed into port to have a friendly little chat with a certain Will Turner about a certain rum-burning young Miss Swann, when that blasted Commodore with the powdery white wig and his blasted bloody marines had caught him innocently trying to lift rum from said Commodore himself.

Then something colorful and slightly attractive caught the Captain's eye. He stopped and eyed the wanted poster:

WANTED:

Jack Sparrow

and with a rather handsome picture of the pirate himself below that.

Checking behind him for the powdered fools, Jack took out his knife and carefully carved, "CAPTAIN" above his name on the poster and ducked into the blacksmith.

Jeez, would they ever get it right?