Elizabeth had started screaming at Jack for not being the man she read about- the rogue who sacked Nassau Port without ever firing a shot, the pirate who disappeared under the eyes of seven agents of the East India Company, etc.
"You spent three days lying on a beach, drinking rum?!" seethed Elizabeth.
Jack merely handed her a bottle of rum from his secret underground cache and drawled, "Welcome to the Caribbean, love."
Oh, I want to murder that man, Elizabeth had thought.
After that, Jack moseyed off and sat down on the sand, and toasted the sunset and sea. He started to chug his rum. But Elizabeth wasn´t ready to drop the matter yet. She stormed around to face him, gathering up the hem of her dress and splashing into the small waves. She near-shouted, "So, is there any truth to the other stories?"
Jack looked at her. "Truth?" He stood up, and pulled up his right sleeve to reveal his "Jack Sparrow" tattoo, and a laceration, and then his left to reveal a white web of scars. Elizabeth gasped inaudibly. For the finale, he reached across his chest and revealed two bullet wounds. "Not truth at all," he said bitterly. He sat back down.
"We´ll still have a month, maybe more. Keep a weather eye open fer passing ships, an´ our chances will be. . ." he trailed off and took another swig of rum.
Elizabeth shrieked, "And what about Will? We have to do something!"
Undeterred, Jack had replied, "Yer absolutely right." He rolled a bottle of rum down to Elizabeth. It floated in the water for a second or two. "Here´s luck to ya, Will Turner."
Sighing, Elizabeth took the bottle and plopped down next to Jack. "Drink up me hearties, yo ho," she muttered.
Jack looked at her. "Whazzat, Liz?"
"It´s Miss Swann," replied Elizabeth with a steely glare. "It´s something I learnt as a child when I still thought it´d be exciting to meet a pirate."
Jack seemed genuinely interested. "Let´s hear it."
"No."
"C´mon, we got the time!" Jack exclaimed, teeth and eyes flashing. "Have at it!"
"NO! . . . we have to have a lot more to drink," Elizabeth added, softening.
Jack, in true fashion, said slyly, "How much more?"
And they began to drink. Soon, they had built a fire and nighttime had come. Hooting the words to the starry sky and dancing around the bonfire had seemed fantastically fun in her inebriated state, Elizabeth reflected.
They eventually fell over and Jack recited his "Black Pearl is freedom" speech. . . and hit on Elizabeth. Thankfully, before he could do anymore damage, Elizabeth tricked him into drinking himself into unconsciousness. When she was sure that he was asleep, she rolled him over onto his back and kissed him on the forehead.
Cheeky bastard, she thought, but he is quite charming.
Then she put out the fire and took refuge under the trees to sleep.
That next morning, as the pale yellow sun was just rising, Elizabeth was down in the smelly cellar collecting as many bottles and barrels of alcohol as she could muster. She would not be staying on the island for much longer, especially with Jack Sparrow, good company as he was. She longed to be with Will.
Elizabeth piled all the barrels on top of each other, and looked round for something to light on fire. "A-ha!" she squealed when she spotted an empty crate at the bottom of the cache. She snatched it and collected a few glowing embers from the previous night´s bonfire. Placing the sticks on the wooden crate, she closed her eyes and hoped it would be alight soon. To her disappointment, all it produced was a few curls of black smoke. Then she spotted her companion, sleeping peacefully about twenty feet away. She crept over to him and knelt by his dreadlocked head. After unsuccessfully trying to unravel a glass bead from his hair, she nearly screamed in frustration and then looked at the rum barrels, and the remnants of the fire. Why didn´t she pay attention when Jack had started it?
Then it hit her. She ran over to the thatch of trees and hurled a bottle of rum up at one. The bottle smashed with an awful sound, showering Elizabeth with glass shards and drops of booze.
"If I can get the sun to hit the trees just right everything will explode," she said softly. "The navy will see my signal- I´ll be free."
She sat down a short distance from the rum-soaked tree and watched the sun make its slow descent up into the sky. Feeling bored, Elizabeth picked up a big chunk of glass and let the sun reflect off of it. Then, to her delight, the stick she was aiming it at caught on fire. She tossed it up into the trees and sprinted away from it, kicking up sand as she went. She turned around and watched as three trees burst into flames. A flaming leaf fell down onto a rum barrel and BOOM!, it exploded. Elizabeth´s eyes widened. She grabbed the unburned barrels of rum for safekeeping, to keep the fire going. The gray smoke shot up into the air, filling her nostrils with an acrid scent. Oh well, if it meant she would be off the island, it would be worth it.
But with all the explosions, Elizabeth had not heard the stirring coming from behind her. She took a barrel and tossed it into the burning mess of rum, trees, and wood. She dove for cover and heard a yelp.
"No! Not good! Stop! Not good! What are you doing? You burned all the food, the shade! The rum!" Jack shouted to her.
"Yes, the rum is gone." Elizabeth could not help but feel incredibly smug.
"Why is the rum gone?"
Elizabeth had had it. She whipped around. "One, because it is a vile drink that turns even the most respectable men into complete scoundrels. Two, that signal is over a thousand feet high. The entire Royal Navy is out looking for me, do you really think that there is even the slightest chance that they won´t see it?!"
Naturally, Jack had his priorities. "But why is the rum gone?"
Elizabeth sat down to stare at the sea. "Just wait, Captain Sparrow. You give it one hour, maybe two, keep a weather eye out and then you will see white sails on that horizon."
She knew Jack was contemplating shooting her, but she knew he wouldn´t go that far. She watched him stalk off, mocking her. Then, at the same time he saw it, she spotted the H.M.S. Dauntless. She jumped up to start screaming, and the rest is history.