Disclaimer: see chapter 1

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And so we were back in the cave. In the shadows, Simon and Sparrow appeared to be themselves again. Before leaving the boat, Sparrow had disappeared into his cabin and emerged dressed in full pirate finery – breeches, boots, linen shirt, a wide sash, a coat with a full skirt, and a broad leather sword belt slung over the top. He had put an ancient and battered tricorn hat over his red bandana too. He ought to have looked absurd, yet somehow he looked right.

"Seems appropriate, somehow," he said, in answer to our curious looks. "This is me. I've lived through a lot, but this is me at heart."

Now, in the cave, Sparrow led the way to the chest of cursed gold and paused just outside the shaft of moonlight that was illuminating it.

"Well," he said, "here we are. All you have to do is cut your hand, get a drop of blood on that coin, and throw it into the chest. I do the same. Hopefully, we both become uncursed and nothin' nasty happens to either of us."

"What might happen?" Simon looked petrified.

"To you? Nothing," said Sparrow. "You've been cursed a couple of hours. To me? Who knows? I could crumble into nothing, maybe. Three 'undred years, it's an unknown quantity."

I had not considered this option, and suddenly wondered whether I'd done the right thing in persuading Jack Sparrow to break the curse for Simon. My colleague had, after all, rather brought it on himself by being obstinate and foolhardy.

But it was too late. Sparrow brought out a dagger from somewhere, and held it out hilt-first to Simon.

"Here. All you need to do is cut yourself, drop o' blood on the coin, coin in chest. I do the same, and we're sorted."

Simon looked aghast at the dagger.

"Oh, for heaven's sakes!" Sparrow said. "Hold out your hand."

When Simon did not move, the pirate stepped forward and took our colleague's left hand in his. With one quick, decisive motion he cut Simon's palm, and closed it around the Aztec coin.

"Now throw it into the chest. Go on."

Simon looked at him, and then moved into the shaft of moonlight and tossed the coin into the chest. Sparrow nodded. "Good." He wiped the blade of the dagger on the end of his sash and cut his own hand.

We waited. Jack Sparrow stepped forward into the moonlight, the bloody coin between skeletal fingers. He moved the gold in the light, looking down at his bony limbs, and glanced up at us.

"If," he said, "for some reason this goes wrong, and I do crumble into nothing – do your best to pick some of me up and throw me into the sea, aye? I don't want to end up here."

"Okay," I said. He nodded, and dropped the coin into the chest.

It took a second or two to work. There was dead silence in the cave; neither Toni nor Jerry nor I breathed whilst we waited. And then, without any indication that it was going to happen, Sparrow and Simon regained their flesh and became human, the silver light casting a glow on their skin.

Simon held his hands out before him. "Oh," he said, in a tone of profound relief.

From a pocket Sparrow produced a handkerchief, and held it out. "For your cut," he said.

"I'll get a bandage when we're back on your boat," Simon returned, with a look of disdain at the grubby bit of material. Sparrow shrugged, and wrapped the handkerchief around his own bleeding hand. He was staring down at the gold in the chest, idly twirling the dagger with his right hand, a thoughtful expression on his face.

I went up to the mound, passing Simon as he went to join Jerry and Toni, still examining himself.

"Hi," I said.

Sparrow looked up from the treasure. "Happy?"

"Yes," I said, "thank you."

"It's pretty, ain't it?" he said, his eyes dropping back to the chest.

"Yes," I agreed. I watched him for a moment. "Are you going to …" I tailed off, unsure of how to phrase my question.

Jack Sparrow sent me one of his peculiarly direct looks, a small smile on his lips. His hand was trailing in the gold, and I waited for him to pick up a coin and announce it was time to go.

Instead, he picked up the end of his sash and cleaned the blade of his dagger, before tucking the knife away in the folds of material.

"I reckon we should close this chest up," he said. I must have gaped. He grinned. "I can always come back, love. But I've decided t' give mortality another go. Might be more fun now, in this mad world of technology and such."

"It is fun," I said. "People keep harking back to the good old days, but frankly I'd rather have the advantages we have now. You might find you enjoy it."

"I have been livin' it," Sparrow pointed out. "Just wonder if it'll be different, now." But his hand hovered over the treasure, his fingers flexing.

Jerry came across the stepping stones and climbed the mound. "Need some help with that lid?" he asked.

I threw him a grateful look. Casting one final glance into the chest, Sparrow nodded. "Aye. Thanks."

Together we heaved the heavy stone lid back on to the chest, pushing until the glint of gold was concealed under ancient Aztec carving.

Sparrow seemed to relax, and he wandered away from the chest and started picking through the rest of the cave's treasure. Completely disregarding the fact we had spent the previous week carefully examining the things in the cave, he casually sorted through piles of stuff, tossing pieces from side to side. When we left he was wearing a ring on each finger and had an elaborate necklace around his neck. Once again, instead of looking ridiculous he looked somehow right.

Back on board the Anamaria, Toni announced she was going to bed. Jerry agreed that was a good idea, and followed her into the cabin. I hung back; I wanted to speak to Sparrow before I too went to my bunk.

So did Simon. He stuck his hands in his pocket and looked awkward for a moment. Jack Sparrow, examining his loot, raised his eyebrows.

"Spit it out, mate," he said.

"I just … it's just …" Simon gave up, shifted his feet, and started again. "Thanks," he said. "I know I've not exactly been gracious about this whole thing."

"Far from it," agreed Sparrow, "but believe me I've met worse men. There's a bit of you, though, Murphy, that's wiser than even Rebecca there with all her anthropology. You don't trust me. That's a bright thing to do. I'm a liar and a thief, and I've built me life on being such. And so you didn't trust me when for once I was givin' good advice."

"I suppose that's it," Simon said. "But thanks, anyway." He nodded, and hurried below.

Sparrow laughed. "Poor blighter," he commented. "Now what did you want?"

"I wanted to say thanks, too," I said. "Not for breaking the curse." I fidgeted, and looked down at the deck. "Look … Jack … it's like this. I'm an anthropologist. I've spent my life trying to build images of people long dead – what their lives may have been like, what they might have looked like, how they might have talked. I've never got to meet someone who lived in the past before. It's been truly fascinating."

"Fascinating, was it?" said Sparrow.

"Really," I said. "And … well, if you can spare the time, I'd like to sit down and find out more, at some point. You were a pirate in the golden age of piracy. You must have met all the greats. Not to mention the centuries after. Will you?"

"All the greats," Jack Sparrow said, thoughtfully. "Funny, ain't it; I spent years tryin' to build up the legend of Captain Jack Sparrow, and all they remember is bloody Blackbeard and his firework fetish."

"Help me change that, then," I said, appealing to the man's vanity. He grinned.

"If I'm passing by, aye, I will."

"Good." I yawned. "Now I simply must go and get some sleep."

Sparrow sat down on the deck, rolling up his coat into a makeshift pillow before lying back. "I'm going to watch the stars. Sleep well, Miss Morrison."

"Rebecca," I said.

"Rebecca." He nodded at me, warmth in those brown eyes, and settled down. I went below and went straight to sleep.

We sailed back to Kingston slowly, without using the engine. Whenever he was awake, Jack Sparrow could be found steering his yacht with skilled, gentle hands – unless he was fixing something at the top of the mast, in which case Mil took over. The change in Sparrow was noticeable. He was livelier, more cheerful, and if possible even quicker with his tongue than before. On the first night of the voyage he opened a bottle of excellent dark rum and proceeded to out-drink the rest of us without there being any sign of the alcohol affecting him, apart from his speech becoming even more slurred than it usually was.

Now that we had all seen him under the effects of the curse, he told even more of his extraordinary stories. They were a mixture of adventure and history, narrated with flair and gusto and lots of wild gestures. Sparrow was a good storyteller, and Toni and I particularly enjoyed listening to him. I took notes throughout – one story that particularly sticks in my mind was an incredible tale of how Sparrow walked off with the riches of Nassau, all without killing a soul. He told us also of his piratical rivals, name-dropping like mad. Calico Jack, Blackbeard, Morgan, all appeared as footnotes to the escapades of Captain Jack Sparrow himself. There were other characters too: an upright and intelligent Commodore in the Royal Navy; the blacksmith William Turner and his lively wife; and as we progressed through the years a variety of civilians and sailors dropping in and out of Sparrow's life.

When Sparrow was not talking, we worked on collating our notes from the cave, indexing and cataloguing the evidence we had taken, ready to have the bits of bone and treasure and other artefacts shipped back to Britain.

After four days of sailing under a good wind, we arrived at Kingston and Mil and Sparrow moored the Anamaria in her berth. While we unloaded equipment, evidence and notes, the two sailors tidied and cleaned the boat until all her ropes were in the right place, the sails were neatly furled and covered, and the planks and metalwork shone. The boat looked lovely, and I felt quite fond towards her as we moved on to loading our things into a truck Jerry had rented.

Mil came down the gangplank with his rucksack on his back, tucking an envelope in a pocket that was probably payment. He said a cheery goodbye to us, and wandered off towards the town.

Sparrow, once again in modern clothes, joined us on the shore. Jerry crossed to him with a chequebook in hand, and the two men talked for some minutes. Eventually I noticed Jerry tearing a cheque out of the book, and Sparrow pocketed it; but as Jerry came back to check that everything was loaded up he seemed happy about something.

"Bargain," he said to me. "Had to force the man to take more."

"He did pick up that necklace and so on," I pointed out. Jerry nodded.

"He did. He'll manage, I think." We exchanged smiles, and Jerry climbed into the truck to accompany our things back to our rented house.

A short distance away, Toni and Simon were talking to Sparrow. Simon was still keeping a safe distance from the pirate's waving hands and invasive body language, but he seemed more relaxed and even, as I got to the little group, was holding out his hand for the other man to shake.

"It's been educational," he said.

Sparrow took Simon's hand, and shook.

"It has indeed, mate," he agreed. "Just remember – if someone tells you to do somethin', do it – savvy?"

"Within reason," said Simon, but he was smiling. "See you, you mad pirate." He turned to us. "I'll see you two back at the house. Got stuff to do."

We said goodbye, and Simon wandered off.

Toni folded her arms around herself. "Well," she said, "I suppose we'd better be getting off too. It's … that is …" she blushed furiously, and finished in a rush. "I'm glad we met you."

"Likewise," said Sparrow in his most velvety voice, smiling charmingly at Toni. He delved in a pocket and brought out a small package wrapped in a bit of gaudy silk. "Memento." He passed it to Toni, who blushed further and stammered her thanks. Sparrow winked at me, and leant over to peck my colleague on the cheek.

Flustered, Toni said something about needing to be somewhere else and hurried away. Sparrow laughed.

"That was cruel," I said.

"Ah, no lady can resist me charms," he said.

"Not true," I returned, but I was only half telling the truth. I was, as I think he well knew, beguiled and charmed by Jack Sparrow – even if I didn't find him as "cute" as Toni still did. I dug in my bag and pulled out a scrap of paper I had prepared earlier, with my work address and phone number on it. "If you're ever passing by London," I told him, passing the scrap over, "call me. Please. I'm serious about wanting to talk more to you."

He took the paper, glanced at it and tucked it away somewhere.

"Now I have to be going," I said. "Happy sailing, Captain Sparrow."

Sparrow smiled, his gold teeth glinting. "Ta."

There did not seem to be anything else to say. I shouldered my bag and left him; when I looked around he had disappeared back on board the Anamaria.

That was the last time I saw Jack Sparrow. We came back to London and together, after exhaustive examination of the evidence and reviewing of our notes, wrote our report and had it published in the usual journals. There was much interest amongst our peers – people called the find extremely significant in our understanding of pirates.

But Sparrow didn't call, and at this time, some fourteen months since we left Jamaica, I have no idea where he is. I don't even know if he's alive; whether he returned to the Isla de Muerte to take another coin; or whether something else happened to him. But I'm still hoping that one day the phone will ring and there'll be that voice of smooth rum on the end of the line. Until then, this record of those weeks in the Caribbean will have to suffice.

Rebecca Morrison
Department of Anthropology
University College London
July 2004