Thank you, Peacockgirl! Indeed, if there are only a few reading, their reviews are most supportive. I'm enjoying this tale myself, which I suppose is the literary equivalent of the cook enjoying the dinner. My dear Sphinx, I shall attempt to carry on in a manner acceptable to the production office. Thanks so much to all for reading - I can't tell you how nice it is to get reviews.


Jack trailed a few paces behind Gibbs and Ana as they were moved along the beach on Kraji. His head was down, and only someone who knew him well would have noticed the surreptitious glances he was giving the island and the men who surrounded them. Not looks in fear, but looks as if he were simply gathering information. Gibbs grunted at him.

"What's the idea?"

"Hmm?" The pirate let his eyes travel lazily to the other man's face.

"C'mon, Jack." Gibbs' expression became more annoyed than nervous as one of the warriors poked him none to gently with his spear. "Alright, ye lubber, I'm movin'." He looked back to the captain and hissed. "So?"

But Sparrow wasn't looking at him. With a sudden thoughtful frown he stopped, turned in place and focused on the view of a high mountain that dominated the western end of the island. A guard poked at him but he only smiled as he began walking again. "Mr. Gibbs," Jack drawled slowly. "Surely you know as well as anyone the importance of waiting for the opportune moment."

Anamaria, close enough to overhear, rolled her eyes. "Don't be doin' anything foolish, Jack Sparrow. Let me do the talkin' here."

His eyebrows raised. "Oh, most certainly, love. I wouldn't dream of usurping your authority in this matter." She shot him a daggered look, but he only blinked at her innocently. As she opened her mouth to speak, one of the guards barked an order at them, and Jack looked at Ana out of the corner of his eye. "Any idea what that meant?" He gave a smug little grin as her fists tightened.

"They want us to shut up. So be shuttin' up and don't get us killed before we can even find the damn' thing."

"Ah. Brilliant."

This time she refused to give him the satisfaction of a glare, and simple strode forward in silence, quickly enough that the guards had to pick up their pace to keep up with her. Jack gave her back a knowing little smile.

Within ten minutes they had reached a village of sorts, composed largely of concentric circles of grass and bamboo huts. Jack glanced in as he passed one hut, and a small child, no more than three, dashed out to stare at him. The pirate flashed a golden smile, but the little boy just watched until his mother, a look of horrified fear on her face, ran out to pull him back. Jack, whom children normally found very interesting to look at, was disturbed by the solemn reaction. He looked around the village and saw the same quiet fear in expressions half hidden by doorways, but no one else came outside to watch. Picking up his pace to walk a bit closer to his crew, he almost ran into Anamaria as they were stopped in front of a large, long hut. The guard ushered them in at spear point.

A large fire made the hall stuffy and warm even though there was an opening in the center of the thatched roof over it. An old man sat on a pile of rushes behind the fire pit, staring darkly at them as they approached. The head guard called something out in an unfamiliar, almost French-sounding language, and Jack saw Ana touch her hand to her forehead. With a small feeling of relief he noticed that at least she looked angry now.

The old man stared at them for a few minutes as if they were some new variety of cockroach. He finally spoke in the same strange tongue. Ana paused, strained under the burden of translation, and then responded in kind. Jack raised his eyebrows at Gibbs, who shrugged. "You understand?" Gibbs shook his head, and Jack nodded thoughtfully. "Ah."

Ana shot him a glare to shut up as the chief spoke again.

"Why do you invade our land?"

"We do not invade. We come for a caged man."

When she spoke the final words of the sentence, Jack noticed one or two guards stepped back nervously.

"Why should I give you anything?" The elder spat into the fire. "For all I know you help the dantilla." Ana frowned, waved her hand dismissively.

"I know nothing of this dan-tilla," she said, stuttering over the word. "Our friend has been unjustly condemned. We claim…" she paused, trying to remember the words in this language, "his freedom."

The elder stared at her and laughed wickedly, showing brown and rotting teeth. "And what do we get in return?"

Anamaria stared at him for a long moment, glanced at Gibbs, looked back. "I know where your daughter is."

The chief struggled to his feet as anger surged through his expression. "My daughter?" He spoke something so quickly that Ana just frowned and shook her head. Then he continued, panting, "You. You were one of them that took her away."

"I was with them. I know where she is. I can give you a map."

He stuttered in his rage, then gave her a calculating look. "Give me the map first. Then if you can choose the caged man, you can take it."

Jack, who had been observing the interchange quietly, swiftly stepped to Ana's side. "What's he want, love?"

"He says we must choose the caged man. I'm not knowin' what that means."

The pirate captain exhaled as he glanced at the chief. "Perhaps there's more than one of them?"

"Then how would we choose?"

Jack grinned, gold glinting in the firelight. "I think I can figure it out. Give him the map."

Ana rummaged in the folds of her belt and came out with a quartered sheet of paper, handed it to the chief, speaking in the strange dialect once more. "She's in France."

He frowned at her. "Fr-ance?"

She took the paper back, drew in the mountain on the island to give him a direction. "You see?"

"Yes." The chief grabbed a branch sticking out of the fire and motioned towards the dark shadows that lurked behind him. "Look."

In the light of the makeshift torch, they saw what looked like, at first glance, a spider-webbed bush of small twigs. As their eyes adjusted, it became obvious that it was actually a pile of tiny cages, each one holding a delicately carved figure, each one with an expression of deadly torment. Gibbs looked ill.

"By the saints. There's hundreds of 'em."

Ana turned to Jack. "And how are we supposed to know which one belongs to Bootstrap?"

Jack stepped over to the fire and took a stick himself. Coming closer to the pile, he handed the torch to Ana for light and began rummaging through the top layers of boxes. In two minutes he pulled one out. "I think this might do the trick."

His crew looked closer. "How can ye tell, Jack?"

The pirate rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Honestly." He held up the cage in the light. "Are you seeing anyone on this God-forsaken island who has hair this fine, and this light a color? Doesn't that shade of curl look a bit familiar?" Gibbs and Ana looked at each other, then around at the guards who still stayed close. Every one of them had black hair the color and texture of Anamaria's. Gibbs gave Jack a look of begrudging respect.

"Good on ye, Jack." He gave the guards another nervous glance. "We better be movin' on, then."

The captain nodded. "Excellent." With a graceful turn he took the torch from Ana and tossed it back into the fire pit. Nodding to the chief, he stepped with the others toward the opening of the hut door – and stopped as the guards came together to stop them. Jack's eyes widened. "Ana?"

The dark pirate turned and barked something at the chief, who snarled a laugh. "I said you could have the caged man." He stepped closer, nearly spitting in her face. "I never said you could leave with it."

"Ana?" Jack was staring with narrowed eyes at their captor.

"Double-cross, Cap'n."

"Ah. I thought as much."

They were led out to a smaller hut, a life-sized version of the cages they had seen in the chief's chamber. Once they were ushered inside, a circle of guards surrounded them.

Jack doodled in the dust, whistling an odd little melody, and looked at the guards carefully. After a minute or two of that he stretched out on the ground and draped his arm over his eyes.

"Yer just givin' up then?" Gibbs stared at his captain in confusion.

The pirate's teeth grinned golden. "Waiting for the opportune moment, Mr. Gibbs. Wake me when they change the guard."


Back aboard the Pearl Elizabeth was learning knots by lantern light from Mr. Cotton while trying not to worry. It wasn't working. "How long do you suppose we should wait?"

Cotton gave her a blank stare as he wrapped the rope over itself. The parrot squawked. "Pieces of eight." She frowned at it.

"And how am I supposed to know what that means?" Sagging a bit, she looked around the deck to see if anyone else was nearby to translate. There was no one. The crew had been giving her a lot of room this evening, presumably because they knew how worried she was. She sighed, a little deeper than she expected to, looked back at the jewel toned feathers. "I just want it to be over. For them to be safe. I mean, what if something happens to father?"

The parrot ruffled his feathers again. "Avast, ye scurvy dogs."

Elizabeth nodded. "And what if father's alright, but something happens to Will?" Her eyes teared up. "I don't know that I could bear that, I truly don't."

"Wind in the sails, wind in the sails."

"We haven't even been together that long. I just can't imagine life without him…" She rubbed her sleeve over her eyes. "I know Jack said not to be surprised if they're not back until morning, but it's so hard to wait."

"Polly want a cracker."

"I know. I just –" she stopped, stared at the bird. "What? What did you say?"

The parrot shook out its feathers and began preening itself. Elizabeth looked at Cotton.

"What did that mean?"

Cotton looked up from a particularly complicated Turk's head knot, cast his eyes between the girl and the bird and shrugged.

Elizabeth stood up abruptly. "Alright. It's gone too far when I find I'm deep in a conversation with a bird." She marched off to go below decks to get some food and find some human company. Cotton's parrot shook out its feathers again, looked over at Cotton and squawked.

"Shiver me timbers".

Cotton looked up from his knotting, glanced toward Elizabeth's retreating back, and nodded in silent agreement.


Gibbs nudged his captain with a boot as the sun was rising. "They're changin', Jack." The pirate went from sound asleep to wide awake in seconds. Nodding to Gibbs, he sat up and watched the new guard take their places. He noticed there were only three of them now.

Sitting closer to the bars, he began scratching a wavy line in the dust, whistling. One of the guards looked over at him and frowned. Over the wavy line, he drew a large circle, then an wide open V inside the circle. The guard came over curiously and stared at the picture, then looked nervously at the other two guards, who were not paying any attention but stood with the grim solidity of hired muscle everywhere. Jack smiled up at him in a friendly fashion.

The guard stared at him for a moment, then drew a wavy line, circle, and V very similar to Jack's doodling. Jack nodded. The man frowned at him until Jack pulled up his sleeve, showing a familiar tattoo. The guard gasped, then caught himself and squatted down near where Jack sat.

In a twisted pronunciation he whispered, "Spah-rowh?" Gibbs and Ana whipped their heads around to look as Jack nodded. Then the pirate whispered something in the strangely French dialect back at him. The only thing that Gibbs heard that sounded familiar was 'dantilla'. The guard nodded, glanced at his blissfully ignorant fellow soldiers and slipped quietly off into the jungle. Jack lay back with a smile, resting his head on his arms.

"And what in blazes was that about?" Gibbs whispered fiercely at him. "By the saints, Jack, you know these people?"

"And you know the language? Why were ye makin' me do all the talkin', then?"

Jack looked back and forth between them. "Now, now, miss Ana, there would hardly be any point in him knowing that two of us understood his little double-cross."

"But how do they know ye?"

The pirate looked positively cheerful. "Dantilla. Rebels. That old man probably has more people against him than for him anymore. They live on the mountain… and when I was tossed overboard by the dogs that stole Ana's ship a few years back I came ashore on the mountain side of the island. They were already trying to overpower him then." Ana opened her mouth to speak but bit off her response. Jack favored her with a grin. "I learned something of their language, found out what was going on – and helped them stage a raid or two on the old man." Looking idly at his nails, he smiled, showing a bit more gold then usual. "And then they made me their chief."

"Their chief?"

"Aye. But I told them I must be off, but that I'd come back someday."

"So yer a legend, then, Jack Sparrow?"

He glanced up as a group of men edged out of the dense jungle, easily overpowering the other two guards and opening the cage while they bowed respectfully at the long haired pirate. Gold sparkled as Jack grinned.

"Was there ever any doubt, mate?"