The waves lapped up against the side of the ship in a calm, rhythmical fashion. Occasionally, a wave would be large enough to make the ship rock back and then lurch forwards again, but this was of little concern to the Captain, who was born with his sea legs.
Captain Will Turner squinted towards the rising sun, just beyond the horizon. He let the sun warm his face. His shoulder-length, curly black hair was blown by the wind out of its loose ponytail. He reached to grab a large, burgundy feather hat off of barrel and placed it on his head. He had always been self-conscious of his hair, even though all of the prostitutes at Tortuga said his hair was their favorite part about him.
Will began to think about their course for the day, and snapped out of his daze. He turned around abruptly and set down a flight of stairs to the main deck. He nodded at his first mate, Jack Sparrow, to follow him into his cabin to discuss the plans for that day.
Jack Sparrow was a curious man. He often seemed under the influence of alcohol, but those who knew him well knew that he was a much wilder man when he was drunk. Will was concerned about this addiction, but was not about to do something about it. The effort would be feeble anyways.
The door to the captain's cabin was made of ebony, as was the rest of the ship. The brass knob and knocker on the door was an attempt to make the ship look class, but the ships inhabitants were far from that. Inside the cabin was a desk that probably used to belong to a Royal Navy ship. There was a bookshelf along the back wall filled with numerous rolled up maps. Most of them were stolen, but some were bought or found on the adventures the Black Pearl's crew had been on. There were a few books on the shelf as well, although the only crew members aboard who could read were Will himself and Jack.
Will strolled slowly around the room and examined the bookshelf. After a minute or so of looking, he plucked a rolled-up map from the bottom shelf and carried it over to the desk. "Please, Jack, sit." Will said, motioning him to one of the leather armchairs. Jack's legs wobbled a bit as he weaved about before plunking himself down in a drunken haze. Will poured a glass of water and slid across the desk towards Jack.
"Drink this." Will said aggressively. He began to unfurl the map as Jack lazily leaned forward to grab the wooden cup. Spreading the yellowed parchment across his desk, Will reached out his hand to grab four stones to hold down the map, then placed his palms on the desk and leaned over it. After squinting at the map for what seemed like an eternity, Will announced, "We're lost."
Jack, looking up from his cup, replied "Ah, it seems we are. But, don't you have to be lost to find places?"
"Enough of that, Jack!" Will bellowed, pounding his fist on the desk. "Where has that ever gotten us? Back to Tortuga?"
"Oh, speaking of Tortuga, we need some more rum. How does it always manage to run out?"
"Because you drink it all!" Will paused for a moment. "Do you know anything that can get us anywhere besides Tortuga?"
Jack slurred, "Well, I know a someone who can help us. But they sell their, let's say, useful items—"
"In Tortuga?"
"Precisely."
"Goodness, Jack." Will whispered, exasperated. "What does this man sell, exactly?"
"Woman, actually. She sells those little knick-knacks and things... you know the type?" Will nodded. "There's usually something, different about them, so I hear. And all of this I've heard from reputable people. More or less."
"This is what you men talk about when you're drunk?"
"That's about it."
This is exactly why I don't drink. Will thought. However, what Jack had to say could have some truth to it. And Will was tired of getting nowhere. He was promised a life of adventure and treasure, not a life of drunken sailors he had to look after. Looking back down at the map and realizing that he had nothing else to lose, Will made a decision.
"We'll go to Tortuga. But if the only thing you plan on getting there is rum, we're throwing all of it overboard the moment we leave port."