AN: Thank you so much for all of your wonderful reviews!!!

Here's the last part.

Epilogue

Late afternoon sunlight reflected off the Caribbean Sea and streamed in through the cabin's window. However, the bed was in shadow. On the sheets lay Jack Sparrow, stripped to the waist, deathly pale and still. His bandanna had been removed and replaced by a white bandage holding a small wad of cloth over the gash on his forehead. A wooden chair was pulled up beside the bed, but the woman who had been sat there for the past eight hours and finally vacated it, leaving a bowl of water and a cloth on its seat.

Elsewhere, the Black Pearl's crew worked efficiently but without their usual good cheer. Tension hung throughout the ship like a heavy fog. After cawing "Dead men tell no tales", Cotton's parrot had had the sense to realise that now wasn't quite the right time for such phrases and had fallen silent. Every man's face was emotionless, keeping the worry within, yet all heads fearfully turned to look when Mr Gibbs returned from his hourly checks on the captain's progress.

Jack hadn't regained consciousness since he'd fainted on the beach with a strong fever raging through his body. Incoherent mutterings had torrented from him, as he thrashed about deliriously. But then, late in the morning, his temperature had reached its dangerous peak and he'd fallen silent and motionless. The fever had remained constant until mid-afternoon, and then it had begun to slowly abate. However, he still hadn't shown any sign of life other than the weak rising and falling of his damp chest.

The Black Pearl silently sailed on, waiting, hoping, praying.

Within the captain's cabin, the deck above creaked gently and the empty lantern on the wall squeaked softly as it swayed. The reflected golden light danced over the black wooden boards of the floor and on the wall the chipped mirror with a heavy and ornate dark frame held the image of the sick man on the bed before it. Unseen by anyone, there was a movement too small for the glass to catch; his eyelashes flickered.

A soft groan slid through his pale lips and his eyelids slowly opened to reveal his dark-brown eyes. The eyes blinked a couple of times, then focused clearly on the ceiling.

The door creaked open and he slowly turned his head to watch the woman enter, her face lighting up when she saw that he was awake.

"Jack!"

Anamaria set the jug of water she'd gone to fetch on the desk and went to his bedside.

"Aye…" His voice was weak and rasping. "I'm back on the Pearl?" he asked, reaching for her hand.

"Aye, Cap'n," Anamaria assured, squeezing his cool hand. "You really are back on the ship. We're back on our original course and we've left that island miles behind us."

Relief flooded Captain Jack Sparrow's face and he struggled to sit up, finally achieving it with Anamaria's help.

"You know…"

"What?"

"I really, really, really hate that bloody island!"

~Finis~