When the letter from the Governor arrived at the shop, Will was in all hasten to leave. The fire was still burning in the hearth and Mr. Brown still laid drunkenly draped across his chair. But this was of no matter to Will. Elizabeth was ill.

He had known something was wrong and had refused to believe his own common sense. But what could he do now? What could he have done differently? For both questions the answer was nothing.

He didn't care that he was in his work clothes as he ascended the steps to the Governor's mansion and he ignored the odd look from the butler. Instead of waiting for his escort to lead him to the room, he rushed up the stairs, leaving the maid rushing after him.

Elizabeth smiled weakly when he opened the door.

The Governor was seated on a chair at her side and looked up upon Will's arrival

"Mr. Turner…" he said, stumbling when he realized the boy's attire. "...I'm glad you've arrived. I'm afraid if you had taken any longer, Elizabeth would have tried to send for you herself."

Will found it hard to force a small smile onto his concerned face.

After a short nervous sigh, the Governor stood. "Well, perhaps I should leave you alone for a moment. Duty shallnt be content on hold forever." He said before slowly leaving.

"Elizabeth," Will muttered as soon as the doorway was empty. He rushed to her side.

"Will, it is nothing. Just a cold. The doctor said so himself."

Patting her forehead gently, he said, "I know, but after the terror you gave me yesterday, I can't make myself believe anything but the worst."

Elizabeth closed her eyes, still smiling. "Well, now that you're here I can get some rest." She peeked at him under heavy eye lids. "I'll be better, you'll see."

Will could only nod as he petted her softly to sleep.

-On The Black Pearl-

By the morning Jack was back to his old, rather drunk self of his, and Anamaria, completely recovered from her previous scare the night before, was again tired of him.

"Tortuga..." Jack mumbled to another half-wit, "has never let me down...if all ports in the world were like that one...no one would ever be unwanted...OR sober!" Jack's company laughed knowingly and Anamaria rolled her eyes.

"Gibbs," Anamaria asked when the old man fumbled away from the group. "Where are we to be headed. Sparrow hadn't breathed a word of it to me."

"Ah..." He breathed as he came. "As far as I be knowin' we're headed to Atlantis. Hadn't breathed a word ta anyone bout where we be goin next. Suppos' he talk ta you first, seein as how you be the first mate and all."

Anamaria snorted a laugh. "Sparrow would no more have me as his first mate than hand the Pearl over to Barbosa. The only reason I inherited the tittle was on the count he stole my boat then caused Barbosa and them to blow up my ship."

Gibbs chuckled and took a sip from his canteen. "Don't you fret." He told her. "Bad luck aside, we didn't have much to go on with the Interceptor. It would have only been a matter of time before the Pearl had caught us up."

There was a few moments of silence between them, during which Jack came up with another round of his impeccable song. It was around the first chorus of "yo, ho"s that Anamaria decided to put a stop to it.

"Hey Sparrow!" Anamaria shouted. He turned around and Anamaria motioned for him to come.

The men finally filtered to their own business and Jack stumbled up.

"We've been sailin for near a day now, mind telling me where in the heavens or hell we're going?" Anamaria was trying very hard to be patient.

Jack thought hard with a finger on his chin. "Oh yes," he finally said. "I remember now...We're going...rhm, we're going to..."

Anamaria stepped closer menacingly, hands tightly clenched in ready to punch fists.

Jack nodded, his whole body going through one exaggerated system of motion. "We're going to Singapore."

Anamaria relaxed in awe. "Singapore?"

Again, Jack nodded. "Yes, Singapore. I've known ever since that one incident with the boat," He slowly lowered his voice for the last part but perked up again, "that you had wanted to sail there. So...I thought...what the bloody hell? Everyone there has deep pockets and the like. 'Be fun for the whole crew."

"Darling?" Jack said after a while, still clearly drunk. "Be a love and go down to the hold and bring me up some nice rum...and not the bloody old stuff...the good Caribbean stuff...I hid it down there somewhere. Feel free to take a bottle...but not a full bottle...just a half a one, cuz you're only first mate...which is like half a captain...so you only get half the stuff...I get whole stuff..." He fell forward and slid down out of Anamaria's grasp and on to the floor. "Yo ho...hmyo...'sa pirates life..."

Anamaria slammed the hold's door shut.

"Furmiff." Even through the wood, she could still hear him.

Still, she wasn't too mad. Singapore might have been a good long ways away, but like Sparrow had said, she had wanted to go. Sparrow had foiled her previous plans of earning a living on a trading ship and yet, being first mate on a ship as beautiful as the Black Pearl had made up for most of that....although Jack himself was another matter entirely.

It had taken her approximately thirty minutes to filter through all the boxes, crates and barrels to finally find what Jack had sent for. It was all the way in the back of the hold. Anamaria tugged at the crates lid.

A screech flew in from the shadows and landed on Anamaria's arm. She felt four, rather sharp objects chew through her sleeves. Cursing the ghost, she grabbed the furry thing with a strong grip and ripped the beast from her arm. It was still screaming when she drug it into the light.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" She said, half angry and half distressed. She flew up to the deck, trying to hide the loud annoying monkey and keep it from twisting free. She stomped to the edge of the boat muttering, "I'll have no more of this..." and flung the evil animal out into the sea. Satisfied only when she saw him hit the water far enough out so he couldn't swim back to the sailing ship did she actually return to the hold. Stupid monkey, she thought. If only the real Jack were that easy to get rid of.

Laughing she returned to the prone Jack. He was still singing when she handed him the bottle. She decided to be contented with the fact that his new toy would shut him up for the next few minutes, or if she was lucky he would pass out for the next few hours.

She turned out to be very lucky.