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Why?

Why don't you know what I want?

My Compass seemed to be staring at me. It had been doing that a lot recently. Just staring at me and spinning in constant circles. Sometimes slowing, but never stopping. I began to measure the distance from where we were to wherever the Compass was pointing.

Not again…

Port Royal. Port bloody Royal.

I gave it a friendly tap to jolt it out of whatever kind of malfunction it was having. The needle moved and for a moment I felt relieved, but then it just slipped right back again.

Bloody hell.

It slipped to a new position and I dropped the calipers. Pointless. Bloody pointless. I sat back for a moment and stared at the map. Y'know… we're not that far from Port Royal, we could always-

No. Don't. You can't.

What's there anyway? Basically nothing. Well…

God, I need a drink.

I reached towards the bottle of rum that was sitting on my desk. It felt ominously light. I picked it up and looked inside. Nothing. I tipped it upside down. Definitely nothing.

Well… who's drank all this then?

"Why is the rum always gone?" I stood up. The room span a little bit and I stumbled. Oh yeah…me. Me drank all this then. "Oh! That's why…" I muttered to myself. Keeping my balance as best I could, I made my way out of my cabin and onto the dark deck with only a hand-held lantern to guide me. Not that I needed guiding, I know the Pearl like the back of my hand. Below decks, the air was full of the snores of my, frankly rather smelly, crew. Not one of them had the decency to stand to attention for their Captain.

Don't bother yourself lads…

Although… I've heard even Goons do it and a Captain of a Goon vessel doesn't deserve any shreds of respect.

"As you were, gents…" I told them sarcastically, secretly hoping that it woke some, if not all of them. The snoring seemed to get louder. Rude. Can't talk to any of you…

I climbed down the next flight of stairs and into the cargo hold. I unlocked the door to the place that we'd set aside specifically for rum. Gibbs once tried to call it the wine cellar to sound fancy, but I told him he was an idiot. There'd never been a drop of wine in the place.

I looked to my left and caught sight of a gaggle of hideous and small sea creatures gathered on a beam of wood in one of the racks we usually keep rum in. How disgusting. I shone my light on them and they recoiled a little. Take your small, hideous sea creature party elsewhere. I stepped back and carried on my search. I spotted a promising looking bottle and bent to pull it out. Sand poured from the neck of the bottle onto the floor.

What the-

"Time's run out Jack," said a low voice from the gloom.

Aaaaah!

I dropped the bottle and heard it smash as I moved away to look for who had spoken. If I'd had another bottle, I would have dropped that one too. "Bootstrap… Bill Turner?"

The man, who had been sitting, hunched over and bedraggled, turned to look at me. His skin looked pale and yellowing and it was literally crawling with yet more small hideous sea creatures. These things are everywhere… I hope they're not contagious. He even had a whopping great starfish stuck to the side of his face.

"You look good, Jack," he told me. Well, obviously. As he spoke water poured out of his mouth.

You don't.

You look worse than your sun and he's a eunuch. I searched for something complimentary to say back. I like your starfish…? No, that won't do.

"Is this a dream?" I settled for.

"No…"

"I thought not. If it were, there'd be rum…" I looked around miserably. Bootstrap immediately held up a bottle. It didn't look new, but that didn't bother me. I took hold of it and pulled. It didn't budge. I had to prise it from his hands with a delightful crack.

"You got the Pearl back I see?" he observed. As sharp as your son, you are.

"I had some help retrieving the Pearl, by the way." I studied the top of the bottle and gave it a tap. Doesn't look very hygienic… better blow on it just in case. Better. "Your son."

"William," Bootstraps eyes were serious. I took a swig of his rum. Tastes just fine. "He ended up pirate after all…"

Not really… he's more pansy than pirate, but you don't need to know that.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of your carbuncle?" I asked, so that he would not dwell too much on his Eunuch of a son.

"He sent me," Bootstrap said meaningfully. "Davy Jones."

Bugger.

"Ah. So it's you, then. He shanghaied you into service, eh?" I tried to sympathise and not let my rising panic show.

"I chose it," he admitted. "I'm sorry for the part I played in the mutiny against you, Jack." As he spoke a tiny crab escaped from his sleeve. He slammed his hand down, caught it and ate it live. That cannot taste good, mate… "I stood up for ya. Everything went wrong after that. They strapped me to a cannon, I ended up on the bottom of the ocean, the weight of the water crushing down on me. Unable to move, unable to die, Jack… and I thought that even the tiniest hope of escaping this fate, I would take it. I would trade anything for it."

Please leave now. Let's not have this conversation. I handed him his rum back and tried to walk away from him.

"It's funny what a man will do to forestall his final judgment."

Like me. Please let me stall it…

"You made a deal with him, too, Jack." Bootstrap appeared directly in front of me so suddenly I almost jumped. "He raised the Pearl from the depths for you, thirteen years you've been Captain."

Debateable...

"Technically, I–"

"Jack." He cut across me inching closer with every word. "You won't be able to talk yourself out of this. The terms that apply to me, apply to you, as well. One soul, bound to crew a hundred years upon his ship."

Your breath is not pleasant.

"Yes, but The Flying Dutchmanalready has a Captain, so there's really–"

"Then it's the Locker for you!" No. Please no. "Jones's terrible leviathan will find you and drag the Pearl back to the depths and you along with it."

No. No it won't. I can't… I…

"Any idea when Jones might release said terrible beastie?"

Please. Help me.

"I already told you, Jack. Your time is up." It felt like he placed something in my hand. I was too tense to open it. "It comes now, drawn with ravenous hunger to the man what bears… the black spot."

NO. Please, no.

It was only then that I was able to open my clench fist. Within seconds the flesh in a circle in the palm of my hand had grown blackened and rotten. Bugger. I felt sick. I looked up for Bootstrap, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Bugger!

Without wasting any more time, for I might not have much left to waste, I bolted back up the stairs to where the crew were lying blissfully unaware of the danger we were in. "On deck all hands!" I bellowed to jolt them out of their sleep. "On deck! Scurry! Scurry on! Move it! Move it! I want movement!"

Men were falling over themselves in their panic.

Bugger. Fuck. Shit. Bugger.

I need this spot covered. "Run as if the devil himself and itself was upon us!" I yelled, running onto the deck. And you better be running like that, because he very nearly is upon us.

I spotted a thin strip of cloth. Perfect. I snatched it and stood behind the mast, wrapping up the spot and hiding the evidence.

Gibbs came out of nowhere, "Do we have a heading?"

God, man! Don't sneak up on people like that!

"Ah! Run!" I told him, and then "Land," when I thought he might need some clarification. I ducked behind the mast. Gibbs loomed at me again. I jumped. "Ah!"

"Which port?" He looked bewildered.

"I didn't say port!" FOR GOD'S SAKE LISTEN, MAN! "I said land, any land." Some first mate you are! Something brushed against the back of my head. Bloody hell it's the-… oh. It's just the bloody monkey.He had my hat. He hissed at me, I hissed back to show him how ill-mannered it was and in retaliation he threw my hat overboard.

"Jack's hat!" Gibbs shouted. "Steer about!"

Are you mad?

"No, no, leave it!" I said desperately. Everyone stared at me like fools. That doesn't look like running to me! "Run" I reminded them before leaving them to it. I dashed under the stairs.

No pet of Jones's is going to spot me here.

Gibbs, however, he did spot me, "Jack?"

I shushed him.

"For the love of Mother and Child, Jack, what's coming after us?" he looked scared.

Don't trust him with it, Jacky.

"Nothing."

He doesn't look like he believes me. I run into my cabin and shut the door. I know that it's the first place that a sea-monster would come looking, but it's the only place I get any privacy from my crew.

Should I tell them…?

No. There's not one there that I trust.

Well, maybe Gibbs, but he'd only panic.

Looks like I'll be going this alone then.

I sigh and sit down at my desk. My hands are shaking and my heartbeat is unusually fast. I need someone to talk to. My cabin feels very lonely and vulnerable.

I miss… I miss Is-

No. Don't.

I miss… I miss…

No.

I look down at the maps laid out in front of me. The words 'Port Royal' stand out more than ever and for once, it doesn't seem like such a bad place to end up in.

I miss... I miss…

I miss my hat.

I reach for my Compass.

Urgh…Who am I fooling?

I touch the words 'Port Royal' with one trembling finger.

I miss my Isabelle.

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