Many thanks to those who are sticking with me. A long weekend let me write a long chapter. Go figure. Perhaps some issues will be addressed in this one… Lordy, I hope so…


The merchant ship Esperance wasn't built for speed. Safe and slow, with a minimal crew of twelve, she made her way toward Isla De Muerta.

Dawn found Will Turner standing at her stern searching for familiar sails, his thoughts becoming more jumbled as he lost sleep over the situation. For the hundredth time since it became light enough to see he searched the horizon, mumbled 'come on, Jack'. He couldn't understand why the Pearl hadn't overtaken them by now, and he wanted that quite desperately. More than anything he wanted to talk to someone he could trust. He'd given up on trying to convince his father without Jack's help - every time he tried to get a logical explanation of the curse out of the man the story seemed to change – and if he pointed that out his father would storm off in anger.

Will was so absorbed in his search that he didn't realize he was not alone until the man next to him spoke.

"A fine morning, Master Turner." Will jumped as he turned to see Governor Swann standing next to him.

"Yes, yes, a fine morning. We should make good time today." The lad shifted uneasily, glancing up to the full sails and repeating himself. "A fine morning." He gave the Governor a tight smile and looked back out over the sea.

Weatherby Swann nodded, his hands folded behind his back. He was noticing things. The crew didn't talk much. The captain, this 'Bootstrap' as they called him, looked at him with a combination of contempt and fear – but Swann expected that from a pirate. It was the boy that worried him. He looked over at Will from the corner of his eye, studied the taut posture, and sighed.

"Master Turner." Will looked at him, his eyebrows raised.

"Sir?"

"Are you alright?"

Will frowned down at the rail, gathering his wandering thoughts, and looked abruptly up at the Governor.

"Is it true that you owned several shops in London before you came to Port Royal? And that you sold them off?"

Swann looked mildly startled at the seemingly random question but answered easily enough.

"Yes, I suppose I did."

Will's eyes narrowed. "And you closed them up?"

This time Swann frowned. "I didn't close them, I sold them. I was assured they would remain in operation. Couldn't very well put fifty or sixty people out on the street, could I?"

Confusion was laced through Will's voice. "But my mother – she was a seamstress in one of your factories that closed."

"Then she should have been moved in a closing, that was part of the arrangement." He looked distressed. "Unless she was ill, of course. Illness took so many that year… it was dreadful." After a brief silence he looked at Will and saw his answer in the boy's face. "I'm sorry, son. The law was that anyone who showed symptoms had to say away until they were better. The new owner wouldn't have had a choice." He shook his head, looking sincerely sympathetic. "I am sorry for your loss."

Will nodded, staring blindly out over the water. Swann kept talking, rambling sadly to fill the silence.

"Damn the town. It took Elizabeth's mother as well… that was the reason I had to get her out of there. It isn't healthy, so many people, living that close. Even outdoors the air feels like it's been overused when you breathe it in." He shook his head. "When the opportunity rose to bring her to the Caribbean, take the governorship, I didn't hesitate." He looked out fondly over the sun-kissed waters. "It's a lonelier life for me, perhaps… but I think she's happy." He glanced over at Will briefly. "I admit, I had higher hopes for her than a swordsmith –"

Will noticed the upgrade to his profession and couldn't help a small grin.

"-but she's happy. That's all that really matters to me."

The governor took a deep breath as they both settled into this newer level of communication. "Now. Suppose you tell me what's really going on here."

Will blinked, attempting innocence. "What do you mean, Sir?"

"Listen, young man. I may be old and I'm certainly fond of my daughter, but I'm no fool."

"I never suggested-" The governor stopped him with a raised hand.

"We are supposedly chasing the notorious Jack Sparrow, who sails the Black Pearl. Certainly the fastest ship in these waters."

"Yes…"

Swann put his hand on the rail. "Then perhaps you can tell me why, if my daughter – your fiancée – is on a fast ship that left before we did, why you've been keeping watch off the stern for three days."

Will stared at him, looked toward the bow, opened his mouth and closed it again. "I –"

"The truth, please." His hard expression looked more desperate for a moment. "And tell me, for the love of God, if Elizabeth is safe."

The younger man looked him in the eye and saw a strength and determination that he never would have expected from the old man. Evidently Elizabeth didn't inherit everything from her mother. He hesitated only a moment before making his decision. Glancing around quickly, he stepped closer to the governor.

"Sir. It's a bit of a long story."


The Black Pearl had been sailing for less than a day when Elizabeth knocked hesitantly on the door of the captain's quarters. "Jack?"

There was a distracted pause before he answered. "Come." She started to open the door, hesitated. Inside the room he looked up from his table spread with charts, puzzled, and slowly smiled. "S'alright, lass. I'm decent."

Elizabeth pushed the door open and walked in, looked at the jumble of papers. "Is this a bad time – Captain?"

Jack grinned at her deference and gestured toward a chair. "Make yourself at home, love. I'm just plotting as best I can with an ordinary compass."

She nodded, sat on the edge of a chair, her hands folded in her lap. He made a couple of marks, surprisingly efficiently, before looking over at her. "You just here to watch, then?"

"Well, I – " she stopped, ran her hand over her pulled-back hair. "I'm just wondering what's going to happen."

He smiled at her ironically, gold glinting. "If I knew that, love, I could make my fortune as a prophet, couldn't I." He chuckled quietly at himself. "A tidy prophet, I'd make." She smiled briefly in spite of herself as he raised his eyebrows at her.

"I mean with my father. You don't think – I mean – could Will really believe –" she stopped, stood up abruptly and turned toward the door. "I'm sorry. I just…"

Jack put down his pencil and straightedge, came around the table to face her. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he waited until she lifted tearful eyes to look at him. "Listen, love. I'm sure Will went along to keep anything from happening. And we're going to catch up in plenty of time to make sure of that. Savvy?"

She blinked back the tears. "Savvy. Captain."

"Good." He dropped his hands and walked back to his calculations. "Now. Has Anamaria been showing you how to man the helm?"

"Yes." He stared at her, tilting his head and dropping his shoulders in exasperation. "Oh." Her eyes widened for a moment. "Aye, Captain."

"Better." He took a scrap of paper and began writing on it. "If you want to be more than a passenger, you need to act it, and there's damn few onboard right now that I trust to steer the Pearl. Give me a few seconds and I'll have this for Ana…" his voice reduced to mumbled degrees and occasional softly jingling nods.

Elizabeth watched for a bit, but nervous curiosity drew her over to his desk, which housed an odd assortment of tools and souvenirs. A square of silk - blue, black and silver - was hung on the wall behind it; and two long peacock feathers were bobbing gently as the ship moved, their quills tucked between boards. She touched the iridescent eye of one and realized Jack was right behind her. She half expected him to pull rank, but when she saw his dark eyes, she realized he had focused on the feathers with a fond, distracted expression.

"They're beautiful, Jack. Where did you pick them up?"

The pirate pursed his lips thoughtfully and looked at Elizabeth, seemed to make a decision. "I've had them since I was no more than your age. From a lady. Pretty little thing."

"What was her name?" Jack was always so quiet about his actual past that she leapt at the opportunity to find something out.

"Aimee." He touched the feathers delicately, turned a slouched look at Elizabeth. "French. Odd people. They actually eat the birds."

Elizabeth, missing Will as much as she did, was sensitive to the emotion beneath Jack's bluster. "You loved her, then?"

The captain gave her a frown, shrugged. "Then. She didn't believe in piracy. Said every time I had a treasure in my hand, I'd use it up." He rolled a dark look her way. "To which I inevitably responded, 'isn't that the point, love'." He looked at the scrap of paper in his hand distractedly, frowned at the numbers. "'The sparrow is sorry for the peacock at the burden of his tail'".

"What?"

"A quote she used to throw at me. Among other things."

Elizabeth looked thoughtful. "She didn't think that you wanted the responsibility of keeping wealth?"

Sparrow grinned at the feathers once more, and then at Elizabeth before walking back to the table. "Of keeping something. The Pearl is the only burden I want."

Elizabeth had opened her mouth when Anamaria burst through the door. "Cap'n. I've been talking to some of the men, and I think it's sure."

"What's sure, love? And just who is steering my ship?"

She gave him a look. "Gibbs. Listen, Jack. If young Turner's father is the caged man, then we've got to make for that island before the other –"

"But Will –"

"Listen, miss. There be dark magic involved here. We'll need to free the caged man to bring it to an end."

"Wait. I thought you said that Mr. Turner is the caged man."

Ana looked at Jack in exasperation. "Is it the high breeding that makes 'em so hard-headed, then?"

Gibbs walked in behind her. "Did she tell you, Jack? What's our course?"

"She's trying. And who the hell is steering my ship now?"

"Cotton." The captain looked shocked. "He'll be fine, Jack, the parrot reads the wind better'n he does. You better listen to what she has to say."

Jack threw his hands in the air and sat heavily at the table. "I'm trying, man. It's a bit difficult at the moment."

Gibbs frowned and looked at Anamaria, whose eyes were practically spitting fire. "Well, tell him then. Who's keeping ye." He stepped back a bit, both to defer to her and to get out of hitting range.

"I'm telling ye, Jack. The island in his book has its share of dark magic. If they'd want to make Bootstrap a caged man, they'd actually make one. Small-like."

Jack frowned, his brows drawn over dark eyes. "You mean like those tribes that make the dolls, stick a piece of your hair on it and use it to cast spells on you?"

"Aye."

"And you have to get the doll to break the spell."

She nodded, her eyes anxiously bright. The captain watched her for a moment, and then stood once more, stepping closer to her to speak softly. "This 'caged man'. What does it mean? What's it doing to him?"

Ana put her hand to her forehead and whispered something under her breath.

"Ana…"

"She doesn't like to talk about it, Jack."

Jack turned the full force of his glare on Gibbs. "Then you tell me, Mr. Gibbs. What is this curse?"

Gibbs sighed, took a long pull from his flask. His voice was rough as he spoke with quiet intensity. "They cage you in with your own darkest thoughts. Whatever you believe is true, is true. And nothing under heaven can get in to convince you otherwise."

Jack gave him a puzzled frown. "So the curse – is whatever you believe it is?"

Gibbs nodded as he took another swig, his eyes wide.

"And William blames himself for his wife's death, and is trying to find someone to pay that debt – but he's not sure even that will work, that he won't lose his son in the process… that the boy's life won't be as desperate as his has been..." Jack dropped his head back with a soft jingle, staring up at the ceiling. "It's a hard one to believe."

The older man snorted a humorless laugh. "Surely you know, Jack. The worst curses are the ones we put on ourselves."