Disclaimer – It all belongs to the mouse *offers cheese* I own nothing. Not even cheese any more.
See now my theory is, that Bootstrap Bill was cursed, thus did not die when sent for his little one way solo diving expedition. Now, I am guessing that the curse set in slowly (Barbossa's speech backs this up) and I suspect that they had not realized that they couldn't die when they sunk bootstrap. Then I reckon the worked that out, then somehow figured out how to break the curse. This would have taken quite a while, but then I think they would have gone looking for him, so he must have gone. This then, is my version of what happened. It is meant to be kind of vague and detached. I wrote this little ficlet in a lecture and typed it up about three times (windows kept giving me runtime errors and crashing – curses) and I have a tendency towards overly short sentences and repetition, so sorry if this pretty much sucks.
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Timeless
There is no such thing as time at the bottom of the sea. So deep that light can not reach. You do not see the sun's shining nor the moon's gleam. The only illumination is the eerie glow of alien fish gliding past in the inky depths, highlighting moments, silent and swift. They belong here, I do not.
I know not how long I have been here, or how I am alive, if such existence as this can be termed life. I feel nothing, not the chains that bind me, nor the water that surrounds me, rocking me as if to sleep, but I can not sleep. No rest for the weary, the wicked or the cursed.
I find it strange that here, surrounded by the sea as I am, cocooned in her depths, I miss her more than ever before. I long to be upon her again, to taste the salt in the air, to feel the wind on my skin, to be free. Not even on land did I ever feel this trapped.
I wonder how long I have been here, it is impossible to mark the time in such a place. I have not aged, nor has my skin shriveled from the water's touch. Cursed I am, and more alone than any man should have to be.
There are times when I almost welcome the comfort, the oblivion this place has to offer, but then I remember. Barbossa... Jack... Wrong... My son, is he alive? My wife? How can I find out? Not here, these fish know nothing, and I can no longer hear the voices in the sea. If only I could escape these shackles.
Motivation is renewed and not all of the rocks have yet been worn smooth by the sea's caress. Time passes unmeasured. I am floating, rising towards the light, moonlight.
I am a monster. Land, land beneath my feet, such as they are. A small price for freedom, anyway, I feel it not. Who knew that dead men's bones could knit? That flesh can mend when it has lost the power to feel. Whole again then, in body not in soul.
Taverns upon taverns pass, fleeting like the fish, unremembered. All of them full of warmth that I can not feel, food that I can not eat and life that I can not share. Stories, a dead woman, a doomed crossing from England and a ship, a black ship, the ship of the damned. There are no tales of miraculous escapes from lonely isles. There is nothing left. I discover that I can no longer cry.
Odd that now, surrounded by things that mark the passing of time, I still do not feel it, still do not care. It was not the depth of the ocean's abyss then, but mine. Days pass, turn to years. I miss the darkness. I stand, alone on the docks, undecided.
The wind stings my face. Stings... I gasp, air floods my lungs, laden with salt and life. Suddenly I am laughing and feeling and crying all at once. A miracle. I am alive. Again I wonder why, but now I care about the answer.
There is an island that I have to visit, and soon, the clock is ticking for me too now. I can hear the sea calling to me again, and I will answer it with all my heart.