AN: Thank you for all of your reviews! They're great encouragement! :o)

I was wondering, has anyone else seen the movie's extra scene after the credits? I read that there was one on the Yahoo! Movies website, so when I went to see the film (for the third time) the other day, I made my friend (Thanks, Jayne!) sit through all the very long credits to see what it was. Few people ever stay until the end of the credits, so why do some movies have these extra scenes that hardly anyone sees?

Anyway, I think I better get on with the story what with leaving you on a cliffhanger and all…

Part Two

Jack's eyelids flew back. He thrust his sword in front of him as he shot up into a sitting position.

It wasn't until the white-silver, dizzy spots fizzled out of his vision that he realised he'd lunged at thin air. He swung his blade around trying to find his elusive adversary. Then, slowly, reality made itself known to Jack. Barbossa was dead and he was alone on this godforsaken spit of land. He'd been tricked by a nightmare like a child.

Angry and embarrassed, Captain Jack Sparrow jammed his sword back into its scabbard and pushed himself to his feet. He swayed for a few moments, then staggered back down to the beach.

The drenched pirate stared longingly out to sea, as the rain continued to pelt down in sheets. There was still no sign of the Black Pearl on the rough waves. Unease churned in the bottom Jack's stomach. What if they didn't find him? Or what if they were shipwrecked by the storm? This time there was no governor's daughter to bring out a Navy search party and no rum to drink or burn.

Was it possible to make a raft out of sea turtles?

Captain Jack Sparrow pulled his pistol out and looked down at it sorrowfully. He slowly ran his fingers over the raised silver pattern. One shot. Oh, the irony.

Jack's eyes narrowed determinedly and his lips slid into a grim smile. He shoved the pistol back into his belt.

He was Captain Jack Sparrow. Somehow he'd get off this island. After all, hadn't he managed to twice before?

But, Hell, he was tired, nay exhausted. Jack rubbed his chilled arms with his hands, yet failed to generate any heat. Instinctively, he trudged back towards the trees in search of shelter.

Jack found a semi-dry patch in an area where a group of palms grew close together and tall bushes offered further protection. He dragged his heavy coat off his aching shoulders and flung it in a heap to one side, then crawled amongst the branches to get to the damp but not saturated bit of sand.

Captain Jack Sparrow slumped against a tree trunk and tipped his tricorne hat over his closed eyes. The leaves around him were whipped about by the storm, but at least he was now out of the worst of it. A half-sleep crept up on him and his memory started to replay an event in his mind. The images were uncalled for and unwanted, yet he seemed unable to stop them…

Captain Jack Sparrow climbed down the steps from the helm and walked across the deck of his ship, the Black Pearl, towards the bow with his usual eccentric sway. As Jack passed the mainmast he heard one of his men on the far side mutter to another who was scrubbing the deck with him.

"We sacked that town without a single shot…"

This was something Captain Jack Sparrow was proud of, but it was evident from the disgusted tone to his man's words that not everyone shared his opinion. Jack hurried on, trying and failing not to let it bother him. He'd overheard too many comments like that recently and there were the resenting glances they gave him when they thought he wasn't looking.

"Cap'n."

Jack froze mid-step. Barbossa. His first mate and a big part of the cause of Captain Jack Sparrow's troubles with his crew. Jack swung around to face the elder man who stood about ten metres away from him on the cleared deck. The men had moved to the sides and stood silent and staring, sensing that something was about to go down between their captain and his first mate.

Acting as if this were a perfectly normal and pleasant occurrence, Jack raised his eyebrows questioningly and held his hands open in a bizarrely welcoming gesture. "Hmm?"

"Cap'n," Barbossa repeated, taking a stride closer to him, "why would ye be insistin' on keepin' the where'bouts of our latest pursuit secret?"

"Ah," Jack said, leaning forward slightly with his palms pressing lightly together. "And why should I want to share my secrets with ye?"

"But we be yer honest crew, Cap'n!" Barbossa cried, coming closer and turning to the men to encourage a murmur of support from them. A sly smile played on his lips. "Don't ye trust us?"

Jack frowned and ran his tongue over his top teeth. "Since when have we pirates been honest, Barbossa?"

"Ye promised that the gold would be in equal share, Cap'n. Shouldn't that mean everything is shared, includin' its where'bouts?"

There were sounds of agreement from the men.

Captain Jack Sparrow swallowed and straightened up, his hand unconsciously falling to the hilt of his sword. His eyes met Barbossa's across the deck. Everyday he had to fight to keep control of his crew with every decision he made publicly challenged by his first mate. Now, Captain Jack Sparrow found that Barbossa had succeeded in backing him into a corner.

"Very well," he said. He pulled his eyes from the cold blue eyes of his traitorous first mate and surveyed his gathered crew. "I will give you the co-ordinates of the treasure."

After passing them on loudly and clearly, Captain Jack Sparrow strode past Barbossa and swung himself down onto the ladder and went below deck. He distantly heard his first mate's triumphant voice ordering the men back to work, as he made his way through the lower decks with his trademark swagger subdued almost to non-existence.

Shutting the door to his cabin, Captain Jack Sparrow sighed wearily and dropped onto his bunk. He massaged his aching temples with both hands.

Jack could only hope that once he'd given the men each their equal share of the eight-hundred and eighty-two pieces of Aztec gold, they'd fall back into unwavering loyalty. Of course, there was the rumour that anyone who took a piece of Hernando Cortés's treasure from its chest would be cursed, but Jack wasn't a strong believer in the existence of curses and there was more than just wealth at stake here. He needed that stone chest of gold pieces or else he was going to lose the Black Pearl.

Bitterly, he mused that it hadn't always been like this. To begin with the crew had been willing to follow their young and ingenious captain. However, Jack was a plunderer but not a murderer; he disliked slaughter that was for no purpose but the slayer's own twisted enjoyment. His crew, on the other hand, had no such qualms and even had a desire for meaningless violence. At first they'd been placated by the riches Jack delivered to them through his cunning acts of piracy. However, they had slowly become restless when their captain again and again took the cargo of a ship and left the vessel dead in the water, refusing to obliterate it as they wished. Barbossa, who wanted command of the Pearl, had encouraged this bad feeling the crew had for their captain and Jack's power over them had waned. William Turner, or Bootstrap Bill as the crew had nicknamed him, had stayed totally loyal to him and shared his views, but it wasn't enough. Barbossa was the one with the balance of power in his hands.

Captain Jack Sparrow's last hope was Cortés's gold.

Worn out by his struggles and fears, Jack had lain back on his bed and fallen asleep. He was awoken hours later, after night had fallen, by the ship sharply changing course accompanied by excited shouts from the crew. Jack had jumped to his feet at once, flung open his cabin's door and run all the way to the top deck.

The scene he found there was of the men cheering and looking to Barbossa who stood tall and proud at the helm. Jack Sparrow stood and stared. Two of the crew noticed his arrival and roughly grabbed him by the arms.

"Hey! Let me go!" Jack cried, struggling in their strong hold as they dragged him forwards. "I'll have ye flogged!"

With difficulty they succeeded in pulling him up to the helm and then held him in front of the waiting Barbossa.

"This is mutinous!" Jack cried, glaring at the elder man.

"That's exactly what this be, Jack. A mutiny," Barbossa said, regarding him with amusement.

Jack Sparrow stopped struggling and his eyes widened with horror. His worst fear had come true. He'd lost the Black Pearl. He realised his fatal mistake: once he'd given them the location of Isla de Muerte, they no longer needed him,

"What shall we do with 'im, Cap'n Barbossa?" the man on Jack's left asked.

"Lock him up!" the new captain of the Black Pearl replied, gleefully.

By morning the ship had arrived at its new destination and Jack was brought up from the cell they'd locked him in. He was pushed onto the plank, his hands bound together with rope.

"This be yer new home, Jack. We're makin' ye governor of this here island," Captain Barbossa told him, grinning cruelly as he gestured towards the remote and desolate piece of land.

There were chuckles from the crowd.

Suddenly, a lone but loud voice spoke up, "This isn't right."

Jack Sparrow turned carefully in his precarious position to see William Turner stepping forward. A surge of affection rushed through Jack as he watched his only friend doing something…incredibly stupid.

"I'll deal with ye later, Bootstrap," Captain Barbossa spat, glowering at Bootstrap Bill.

"It's not by the Code!" William protested, but the men dragged him back and gagged him.

Barbossa turned to Jack and his grin slid back into place.

"You don't have to do this y'know," Jack pointed out. "Ye could drop me off at a port somewhere."

The new captain of the Black Pearl raised his hand, which held Jack's pistol.

"One shot," he said. "Ye know what it be for should ye be needin' it, which I'm sure ye shall."

Captain Barbossa threw the pistol into the sea. "Off ye go now, Jack. Take a swim."

One of the men growled and jabbed his sword towards Jack.

With one last glance at what he'd lost, Jack Sparrow admitted defeat and dived into the water. He found his pistol and swam to the shore of the island. As he got to the shallows, he heard the sound of a distant rifle going off and there was a splash in the water off to his right. Further little splashes followed, drawing closer to him. With fright Jack realised that they were firing at him. He raised his arms in an attempt to protect his head and fled into the distance. Then, from the safety of the vegetation, he'd watched Barbossa sail away with his ship.

Luckily, the rum-runners who kept a stash on the island had arrived three days later and he'd been able to barter passage off. Ten years later, he'd eventually been able to reclaim the Black Pearl from Barbossa, but not without having to spend another night here. That second time had been with the splendid company of Elizabeth Swann. Unfortunately, the girl's heart had been set on Will, Bootstrap Bill's son, and after he'd passed out from too much rum, she'd burnt all the liquor and everything else that belonged to the long-ago-caught smugglers. Of course, their Navy rescuers had then seen the fire signal and so it had been worth it at the time.

"It must be terrible for you, Jack, trapped on this island," Elizabeth had sympathised.

It sure was now. No rum, no pleasant company, no foreseeable way off. Unless the Pearl made it through the storm and found him…he could only hope.

Captain Jack Sparrow groaned and shifted uncomfortably in his sheltered spot at the base of the palm tree. His wounded head was killing him. He rubbed his eyes and dragged himself to his feet. The sea was drawing him again.

He made his way to the edge of trees and looked out. The raindrops were now smaller and lighter, giving the appearance of mist.

To his surprise there was a large dark shape near the shore. He stepped forward to have a closer look and slowly his tired eyes managed to make it out. It was a ship!

He recognised that ship…he'd sailed back to Port Royal from Isla de Muerte in one of her cells…

His Majesty's Ship Dauntless.