Jack felt himself falling as blurry, incoherent images flashed past him. He felt the rumbling
ground below him, but he fell all the same. He couldn't see his father anymore, or his
surroundings. The images engulfed him, and everything was completely silent; or perhaps it
was so loud, it only seemed to be silent. Either way, he could hear nothing, not even his
own breathing.


In a flash, he was thrown solidly to the deck of a ship. The sun hurt his eyes, and it took
him a few seconds of blinking to realize that he was on the Black Pearl, his crew staring at
him as if he were an apparition. All of a sudden, the crew broke from their stupor; many of
them cried out in alarm; Anamaria rushed to Jack and began to shout words of panic.


"Captain! You're injured! But how!? Just a moment before you were standing at the helm!
You're different! You're dying!" she cried. She shook Jack when he did nothing but stare
at her, still confused and awed that the Kismet actually worked.


"I'm all right," Jack said, pushing Anamaria's hands away. "Calm down!"


"Nonsense! Are you mad? Did you not just see what the whole crew saw? Look down at
yourself! You're bleeding!" she continued.


"Listen!" Jack called over Anamaria's horror-stricken voice. "Most of it isn't mine! Can't
you see?"


"What's happened to you?" she demanded.


"If you calm down, I'll tell you," Jack said. Anamaria realized she had been clasping Jack's
shirt, and she released him, drawing back and staring disbelievingly at him. Jack sighed and
held up the Kismet for her to see. "This," he said, "is Kismet."


"You're mad," Anamaria whispered.


"Listen!" Jack protested. "I used this to go back in time! I came from a week from now.
You see how I look? I was fighting with the fiend who is to destroy Port Royal! I stole
Kismet from him, and went back to make things right again!"


"I don't understand," Anamaria replied, faintly.


"We need to turn this ship around," Jack said, standing up and drawing his compass from
his pocket. "You must at least know that if we don't sail to Port Royal, everyone will die."


"Who; us?" Anamaria asked, trying to get some answers out of Jack, following him as he
rushed to the helm.


"The Port Royalists!" Jack swung the wheel about and shouted to the crew; "Everyone to
their posts! Any man caught doing nothing will be thrown overboard!" Behind him, the
flabbergasted crew snapped back to attention and busied themselves with their duties.
Anamaria stayed next to Jack. "What are you doing, love? Get to work," Jack said. With
a sudden change of mind as Anamaria was obeying his order, he called to her; "Where were
we headed before I came about?"


"Tortuga," she answered, almost disbelieving.


Immediately after she said this, Jack felt a sudden jolt that nearly knocked him senseless.
His head spun as a scene formed around him. The Black Pearl melted away like a mirage,
and what took the place of it was a familiar dirt street, littered with broken bottles, garbage,
waste. Jack instantly knew that this wasn't real; it looked like a dream, but he couldn't wake
from it; he hadn't even fallen asleep! One minute he was on the Black Pearl - which had
been real and solid - and with a sharp jerk as if he'd been pushed from behind by an
ethereal force, he was here. On the street of Tortuga where he would meet the psychic
woman.


"What the bloody deuce," Jack muttered under his breath; or tried to mutter. No sound
came out of his mouth. He stood in this street for a few minutes before he saw something
that made him start to attention. It was himself! He saw the all-too familiar swaggering figure,
dark eyes alight and adventurous, squinting; he had recently consumed a bit of rum and was
strutting around as if he owned the whole town. His hat was cocked jauntily - or drunkenly -
to one side, and Jack noticed that his past self was scouting around for a lovely lady he might
have the fortune to spend the night with.


Jack watched in awe as the past him brushed right by. He obviously couldn't see his future
self standing there, turning about so he could see where he was headed, following him to the
end of the alley, where the woman sat in rags.


"Help an old woman out," the lady croaked. Jack ignored her and began to walk past her
without a second thought. "A shilling for a fortune-telling, Captain Jack Sparrow." Past
Jack stopped in his tracks and grinned, the old lady glancing at his gold teeth, hoping he was
rich.


"That should be interesting," he decided, giving the hag a shilling. He looked past his cloudy
drunken gaze to think about the woman, and out of pity, tipped her three more.


"You're a good man; good man," the lady grumbled, coughing harshly into her arm.


Jack felt another jerk and he swung around, the scene melting as the Black Pearl had.
Before it completely vanished, his heart froze as he caught a glimpse of the proverbial fiend;
the pale, wrinkled non-living figure of his father. The image of Tortuga spun, but his father
was clear as ever. The man spread his lips widely into a sour smile, stared right into Jack's
eyes and winked. The last thing Jack heard before the Black Pearl appeared again, was a
terrible cackle, which rung in his ears even after his ship firmly materialized around him.


"Captain! Captain!" Anamaria was shrieking above him; Jack had obviously collapsed and
was staring up at the lady, recovering from his odd vision.


"What is it?" Jack cried, pulling himself to his feet. His first mate was apparently terrified,
white and rigid, eyes large and frightened.


"You're daft, you're losing it, Jack!" Anamaria said. "One minute you're talking to me like
normal, the next you're on the deck, jabbering things nobody can understand; you've scared
us! You're mad!"


Jack looked around at his crew, who were all standing silently, staring at him.


"Back to your posts!" Jack ordered, waving his crew away. Nobody complied. "I said get
back to your posts, you stolid curs!"


"Jack, listen," Anamaria whispered. "We're going to take our original route and head to
Tortuga. Until you're back to normal, you're relieved of your authority as captain."


"You can't do that!" Jack cried. "There's nothing wrong with me, you have to understand-"


"I understand completely," Anamaria said, sadly. She turned to the crew. "Lock him in
his cabin," she instructed, taking the helm.


"Anamaria! There's nothing wrong with me! If we don't go to Port Royal, hundreds of
innocent people will die!" Jack shouted as men held him with difficulty as he struggled in
their grasp. "You're making the biggest bloody mistake of your life! Don't do this!" He
thrashed violently, but he couldn't free himself from the four crew members who were
pulling him to his cabin. "We have to sail to Port Royal! Anamaria! Please, listen!
You're letting people die! Anamaria!"


She didn't take her eyes off the sea as Jack was thrown into his quarters. He hit the
floor harshly, but sprang to his feet, charging at the door in time for it to slam in his face.
He heard the crew sliding a bar into place while some of them held the door so Jack
couldn't free himself. He pounded on it and continued to shout until the men left,
ordered by Anamaria to get back to their duties.


Jack gave a last cry of rage and fell silent, striking the door once more before sliding
to his knees in despair. He didn't blame his first mate for doing this; he realized he
had acted inanely and that she only wanted what was best for him and the crew.
She would not listen to him, that was apparent. There was nothign he could do.


"And so, Port Royal," Jack murmured to himself, shifting so that his back was against
the only exit as he stared at the floor, "you fall to the indomitable dastard again."