At last, Jack heaved himself up, and began to explore the island. Perhaps, with luck, he'd find a little rowboat sitting in a cove, he thought. But he had no such luck. By nightfall, he began to think of fashioning a raft. He fell asleep, dreaming of booze, and the Pearl.
The next morning, Jack set off the coastline, and headed for the palm trees. As he had no axe, he set about looking for logs, and whatnot. He found nothing but twigs and leaves. But, while searching, he stepped onto a pile of sand, and noticed a soft hollow sound. He began to dig the sand away, and noticed a cache. Booze! He could hardy believe it. His spirits soared. He began pulling out bottles, and sat on the beach, drinking rum. Night came and went before his eyes, and then again. He passed out, leaving bottles laying about the beach.
He awoke when something sharp poked his chest. "Oh, hello." He grinned, and sat up, despite the ufnriendly loking man standing over him with a sword at his heart. His head was punding, and he collsaped again.
"Hey, Johnny, looks like we've got a mutinee!" The man shouted. "What's your name?" he asked.
"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow." Jack responded. Instantly, he was on his feet, headache or not. With a quick spin, and fast reflexes, he had grabbed the man's arm, and forced the sword out of his grip. "Give me a lift, and you'll have your sword." he declared.
"Well, if we left you here, you'd wipe out all our booze!" The man retorted, clearly a bootlegger.
The man named Johnny came up. "We'll leave him at that flea-bitten, dumpy little town a way's from here. I hate pirates."
"We're all your business, mate!" Jack responded.
Neither man had an answer to that, but all three got into the ship, and headed from the destination called, "flea-bitten and dumpy." Jack had a feeling where they were going.