I saw my target. He was tall, with a white powdered wig and a gilded waistcoat, with pockets no doubt filled with a fair amount of gold. I sped up my walk slightly to pass him. And as I did, I deftly slid my hand into his pocket and lifted up the prize: a heavy velvet coin purse. But as soon as I got the purse out, a massive hand gripped my wrist, so tightly I feared it would break. A wave of shock and terror ran through me. I tried to scream but no sound came out. I looked at the man who had my wrist, and to my surprise it was Sir Dunnmore. He was roaring "Thief! Wench!" and a crowd was gathering and they were screaming "Hang the thief!" Suddenly I was on a platform, and a noose was around my neck, drawing tighter and tighter, until I couldn't breathe, no matter how I struggled...

I woke up gasping for air. I put my hands to my throat, still feeling of the pressure of the rope around my neck. It had all felt so real! I took a few deep breaths, but still felt stifled. I needed air. I stood up and went above deck; clinging to the railing on the way up. My knees were shaking almost too badly to walk, but somehow I made it up the stairs and out into the cool night air. Millions of stars twinkled against an inky black sky, and soon I felt like I could think again.

These nightmares (for this wasn't the first) were painfully similar to the day that I was caught the first time, and they were no doubt caused by my acquiescence to Jack's plan. The more I thought about it the more I knew that I wasn't going to be able to carry out the heist. I would be caught, just like the last time, and sent straight to the noose. Although the night air cleared my head of the shadows of the nightmare, by no means did I feel better. I had many doubts about the whole scheme to murder Sir Dunnmore.

For one thing, I didn't even know much about it. All I knew was my little role in stealing a map. And even that had too many things that could go wrong. Suppose Dunnmore decided not to give me my job back? And even if he did, how was I supposed to find this map? Dunnmore lived in a bloody mansion; there were a million and one places that map could be! And if I did find a map, how would I know if it's the right one?

I hated myself for even thinking these thoughts. I had agreed! There was no way I could go back on my word to Jack; it would be far too cowardly a thing to do.

"Who be out there?" A familiar voice called out. I jumped, startled, only to realize that it was Mr. Gibbs, on the night watch.

"It's me," I replied.

"Mother's love! Maggie! What are you doing up at such an hour?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"Aye, ye don't sleep much, do ye?" Another figure emerged from the shadows, and suddenly I felt the nervous pit at the bottom of my stomach lessen. Jack always seemed to have that effect on me.

"This isn't the first night I've 'eard ye walkin' about up here," Mr. Gibbs added. I blushed a little. Did the entire crew know of my sleeping habits?

"Ye should take to drinking, Mags," Jack said, slurring a little. "A pint o' this'll put ye righ' to sleep."

"It doesn't seem to work for you," I observed. Jack moved as if he was going to reply, but then gave up and took another swig from his flask.

I decided that Jack's state could be used to my advantage to find out a bit more about his plan. "So tell me Jack," I said sweetly, "Why exactly do you hate Dunnmore so much?"

Jack responded with a torrent of curses on Dunnmore and all his family. I looked to Mr. Gibbs for clarification.

"Well, 'twas nigh ten years back, when Jack was cap'n o' the Pearl the firs' time around, when he attacked this ship called the Shine of the Sea, in search of treasure. What he found was Sir Dunnmore, who also happened to be the leader of the most notorious smuggling ring in the Caribbean. The Navy 'ad been after them for well on five years at that time, and still hadn't a bloody clue how to find them. Anyways, Dunnmore told Jack that he would hire him as a rumrunner should Jack leave his ship. Well, rum running was something Jack had yet to try, so he agreed. An' things went well for a while. Jack and the crew made a nice little fortune with the smuggling, but it wasn't long before there began to be some dissension between Jack and Dunnmore."

"Tha's because Dunnmore's a bloody bastard!" Jack spat.

"Aye, an' to make matters worse the Navy was closing in on Dunnmore and the whole operation. So Dunnmore framed Jack an' 'is crew for everything, an' since Jack was the captain he was the one who was sentenced to the noose."

"How did you escape?" I asked, slightly awestruck. Jack started laughing. Again, I looked to Mr. Gibbs.

"Well, in the jail where 'e was kept they 'ave a custom of giving prisoners their last rites before they're execution. So when the priest came in, Jack quickly and quietly subdued 'im, stole 'is vestments and cloak, and strode right out o' the cell."

"And no one noticed that a humble priest sudden became a dreadlocked pirate?"

"The cloak 'ad a hood an' no one could see me face," Jack explained.

"So Jack was walking through the streets of the port town, and 'e passed a church, an' he's stopped by a man who was standing outside it. Apparently there was a wedding waiting to go on, an' the priest who was supposed to marry the couple was lying in Jack's jail cell. Now Jack knew 'e didn't have much time to waste, but he also felt guilty about ruining the poor couple's wedding."

"Jack, suffering from conscience?" I asked jokingly.

"Conscience would have been feeling guilty about knocking out their little priest! I'm not sure what you'd call taking his place..." Jack mused.

"You didn't!" I said in exaggerated disbelief.

"Aye, I did. And I promise you that's a wedding no one's going to forget." And he started laughing again. I could only imagine what kind of havoc Jack could wreck on something like that.

We sat on the steps leading to the helm and talked for a while longer. A little later Mr. Gibbs left to go to sleep, but I still felt as wide awake as ever. Meanwhile Jack was animatedly telling me about some other adventures he had been on.

"An' there was a hundred, no two hundred, pirates in that cave! Two hundred of the fiercest, most bloodthirsty pirates in all the world! An' they were set to kill me, an' Will, but we had to fight 'em off until Will got the chance to lift the curse. An' once he dropped the bloody medallion into the stone chest, I shot Barbossa right through his black 'eart!"

I smiled and nodded, not quite sure what Jack was talking about. "You must have been terrified going against all those pirates," I said breathily. Immediately I realized how dumb that sounded, and felt my cheeks turn a bright pink.

But Jack just laughed and said boldly, "Terrified? I wasn't terrified 'tall! 'Twas those pirates who're terrified o' me!"

I leaned a little closer into him and looked up into his dark kohl-lined eyes. "Of course not. You're Captain Jack Sparrow," I murmured.

"The most fearsome pirate in the whole world," he whispered. And before either of us knew what was happening, we both leaned in closer and kissed. It was slow and surprisingly sweet, and ended far too soon. Immediately my mind exploded with questions, mostly along the lines of: What the blazes just happened?! Was there actually something between us? Or was it just the effect of a warm Caribbean night and a little too much rum?

But I didn't have much time to reflect on this, for Jack was leaning in, and we kissed again; this one was longer and much better than the first. But this magical moment was somewhat dampened by the strong taste of rum in Jack's mouth. And it was then that I suddenly became aware of what was going on: He's bloody drunk, I thought sadly, and there's only one thing he's after. Well, I wasn't some pirate's strumpet, not even if the pirate was Captain Jack Sparrow.

"I have to go, Jack." I said, slightly apologetically. I stood up and went back below, feeling very confused and leaving Jack rather disappointed.