"That looks rather nasty, love."

I looked up, startled. Jack was standing in the doorway, surveying me with hooded eyes.

"What does?"

He gestured. "That four inch gash on yer shoulder."

I looked, and was unpleasantly surprised to see that he was right – I had a deep sword slash running from the point of my shoulder diagonally down, stretching halfway to my elbow. "Eh. Well, that's unpleasant."

"To say the least." His boots thumped on the cabin floor as he crossed the room to one of the many old, battered sea chests lining the walls. "I'll wrap it up for ye." He yanked up the lid, ignoring the loudly protesting squeak from the long rusted hinges, and practically dove inside, rooting around in search of something. After a few moments of searching, he came up with a torn, wrinkled old white linen shirt. He started tearing it into long, thick strips.

"I didn't even notice it."

He didn't answer, concentrating on pushing the edges of the wound together as he wrapped it tightly in makeshift bandages.

"Where are we?"

"Headed towards the Florida coast. A goodly way away from Port Royal."

"Never thought I'd hear those words, they's music t' my ears. Why La Florida?"

"To visit an old friend, who will be very interested to meet you, love."

"Me? Why?"

He tied the last knot and held out the palm of his hand. On it glistened a single, pristine drop of blood, sparkling and flashing like a lustrous ruby in the lanternlight. "This. This is the reason."

I stared at the droplet, hovering on his skin like a bead of crimson oil. "I'm beginning to think I underestimated the power of my familial name."

"You've no idea." He said dryly, the humor suddenly returning to his ebony eyes. "The men that swooned over Bellamy! 'Twas remarkable…"

I snorted with laughter. "That's a fine way to remember her."

He swept his hat off his head and made a sweeping bow, mock contrite. "Beggin' yer pardon. I meant no disrespect."

"None taken. She was, after all, a pirate."

We sat in silence for a moment, each with our own thoughts.

Jack played with the large emerald ring on his forefinger. "The Sparrow bloodline has always continued through the male line... and we've always been the Keepers of the Code, ever since it was set down by the pirates Morgan an' Bartholomew." His eyes were dark and far away. "My father is the current Keeper."

I was hesitant to bring up the subject, but curiosity soon conquered apprehension. "Will said your father is immortal… is that true?"

"The Keeper lives until he chooses to die."

I was stunned for a moment.

He chuckled at my reaction.

"How old is he, then?"

"Teague is in his 213th year of duty, making him about 250 years old. He is the longest-livin' captain in Sparrow history."

"My goodness."

"Indeed."

"And… will he choose to die?"

"Aye."

"And… will you take his place?"

"Perhaps." He was pensive. "The Fiddlers..."

I waited for him to continue.

"Fiddler blood has always passed through the women... and strong women they are too. First and only Pirate King was a Fiddler woman by the name of Naiobi."

"Naiobi?"

"Aye."

"What a curious name. What was she King of?"

"The first Brethren Court. The Court is composed of the nine Pirate Lords."

"Ah."

"So, seeing as Bellamy passed over t' the next world abou' twenty years ago, it would seem you," he prodded my arm, carefully avoiding the bandaged part, "are the only Fiddler left on this earth. And that means you are in line to be the next King."