Disclaimer: See previous "disclaimers". Unfortunately, they're all alike.

A/N: I AM SO SORRY! FROM THE BOTTOM OF ME SCURVY HEART, I'M SORRY! I had no idea it's been like, a month and a half since I've updated. I had spring break, went to Wisconsin, did scholarship stuff, had my birthday, and BAM! Time flew by. I apologize for that.

Well, this chapter is extra long, a dedication to all of you who waited for me to update. It's appreciated. I warn you that there isn't a lot of action in this, but Jack is being, well, Jack, and I think you'll enjoy that.

The title of the chapter will be explained in the chapter itself (shocking, isn't it?) I really hope you enjoy…not sure if you will, but I hope!

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Pirates of the Caribbean: The Wind's Eye

Tana

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He wanted to rip his eyes out, to break something, to butcher Sparrow and his bloody crew like they were cattle. He wanted to bathe in their blood, to cook their flesh and eat them for supper. He wanted to put Sparrow's head in a jar and place it on his desk, where he would be reminded of his accomplishment every day.

But all Ratherford was doing now was staring out of his window, breathing heavily, watching the sun rise higher in the cloudless, blue sky, trying to think of what to do.

The blasted pirates were gone, and havoc had overtaken Port Royal. Rumors about the infamous Jack Sparrow were suddenly alive again, and people were beginning to panic. It was all over the local newspaper, and even in the London Times. His reputation was hanging by a thread, and Sparrow was the one holding the scissors. One snip, and Ratherford would lose everything he had worked so hard to attain.

A knock on the door startled him, but he quickly regained his composure as he huffed, "Enter."

Colonel Stanley entered, and Ratherford nodded slightly, adjusting his hawkish gaze on the young man.

"Sir," Stanley began, "have you made your decision yet?"

He looked at the colonel, a young, handsome fellow who had the healthy air of someone who had a proper English upbringing and had the capabilities of doing great things with his life. Ratherford liked him, and had made him his personal aide.

"Yes," he responded to Stanley, slowly turning on his heel to face him directly. He paused a few more moments before continuing. "We shall pursue Sparrow. Have the H.M.S. Intrepid man the decks and load the cargo."

"Aye, sir," Stanley replied. He saluted and turned to go, but stopped as he opened the door. "Oh…and Commodore?"

"Yes?"

"Governor Swann is here to see you. And, if I might add, sir, he looks superbly angry."

~*~

Smithe had been looking forward to meeting Jack Sparrow, but had not gotten a chance to until the next morning. He awoke early before first light had risen from the horizon. His sleeping quarters were dark and dank, the familiar sounds of snoring and heavy breathing invaded his ears. The soft and calming sway of the Galley soothed him as he clambered out of his hammock, threw on his pants and boots, and, careful not to wake anyone accidentally, slipped out of the sleeping quarters.

Yawning and rubbing his eyes in an attempt to adjust his vision, Smithe climbed up on deck. The salty sea was calm as false dawn began to rise. The wind blew his sandy-colored hair slightly as he stood there, enjoying the peacefulness of a newly awaking sea. Scanning the deck, he saw O'Reilly, who was on watch on the port side, his arms folded on the railing, his eyes closed. Nothing was lovelier to a pirate than alone time with the sea. The bond between the two was unbreakable, and whenever a man had a chance to be alone with his soul mate, he took it.

Smithe continued to scan the deck and noticed that there was a strange figure at the wheel. It was not Kidd, nor was it any other member of the Galley's crew. He could only make out a silhouette, and could barely see the figure's long hair swaying softly in the breeze. The man had a confident air to him, and Smithe found himself oddly drawn towards the mysterious pirate. He approached cautiously and quietly, not wanting to call attention to himself. The pirate continued to steer, his hands firmly grasping the wheel. The man looked majestic, almost god-like with his royal posture and confident gaze. Smithe continued to approach and stopped just shy of two feet from him. The man, whose back was toward him, didn't seem to notice.

Smithe opened his mouth to speak when suddenly the pirate whirled around and pointed his sword barely an inch away from Smithe's neck. The young man's eyes grew wide, but he had no time to react and reach for his own sword. He stood there, a vulnerable, wide-eyed youth, his mouth gaping, his expression fearful.

"Bloody hell," the figure muttered, sheathing his sword. "Don't you know never to sneak up on a pirate?"

Smithe still couldn't talk. He was shaking from head to foot.

"What be your name, boy?"

Smithe remained silent.

"Ahoy, there. What be your name?"

Nothing.

"Are you deaf, mute, or both?"

From somewhere, Smithe found his voice. "Neither," he responded shakily.

"He speaks! Joy to the world, he's got a tongue. I knew a man once…had no tongue. Had to have his parrot speak for him. Nasty business, but as it were, damn fine sailor. Just because he had no tongue didn't mean he didn't have talent as a pirate. Tongues don't dictate skill, savvy? Never prejudice yourself against a man who be missing a tongue. He might just be a bloody wonderful pirate."

What be this man talking about?

"Me…me name is Smithe," he said, unsure if the man was done with his incessant talking.

"Smithe?"

"Aye."

"Good name, Smithe. Related to John Smith?"

The young man blinked. Who in the hell be John Smith?

The pirate picked up on the youth's confusion. "You know, the founder of Jamestown. First city in the New World. That whole business with Pocahontas? Pity he died so young. Heard he was a fine chap."

Who be this daft man?

"What be yer name?"

"Captain Jack Sparrow," the man answered. "No relation to John Smith."

This is Jack Sparrow? But the man ain't be making no bloody sense…

"Jack Sparrow?" Smithe asked unconvincingly.

The man sniffed, annoyed. "Aye."

The sun broke over the horizon, and Smithe got a better look at the man to whom he was talking. Tan, ruggedly intriguing with braided hair and ripped, tattered clothes, he looked hardly the part of the revered man who was now the talk of the seas. Yet there was an aura about him that intrigued the young man; something about Sparrow made one realize that beyond his nonsensical babbling, there was an undeniable intelligence.

"Where be we going?" Smithe found himself asking.

Sparrow gave him a backwards glance. "Madagascar. Antananarivo, to be exact."

Smithe stared at him, and Sparrow elaborated. "You might be more familiar with the port of Tana? Tana be short for Antananarivo."

The young man could hardly believe his ears. "Tana? But Tana be a pirate's haven. Rumors say it be better than Tortuga."

Sparrow nodded. "Aye."

"What be it like there?"

Sparrow turned away from the wheel to look directly at Smithe, his eyes dark and sullen, his mouth curved downward. "I've been there once, and swore I would never return unless I had to. But there be no other place for us to go, lad."

Smithe frowned. "Be it that dangerous, eh?"

Sparrow stared at him for a moment so intensely that Smithe felt his insides begin to squirm. Then, ever so slowly, the other man pulled up the sleeve of his left arm. On it were burns so severe that the scar tissue was white and disfigured. Smithe felt his stomach recoil but opened his mouth in surprise. He had never seen a burn so bad…

"I earned meself this in Tana. Now you know why I'm not excited to be returning." Sparrow paused for a moment, and then grinned slyly. "I'd watch me back if I were you, Smithe. There be more in Tana than just pirates, I guarantee it."

~*~

"Lis, you don't know how dangerous Madagascar is," Kidd pleaded, passing a hand through his thick, wavy hair. "Even the most ruthless pirates avoid it."

"Have you ever been there?" Elizabeth asked. She sat across from him in the mess hall and stared intently at him.

"No. And for good reason, too," Kidd mumbled, shaking his head. "It's no place for anyone, Lis, especially for you."

"Oh, is that what this is about?" she demanded, folding her arms. "Because of my condition, I am no longer allowed or capable of taking care of myself?"

"No. But I don't know if my crew can even take care of themselves in Tana. If only you heard the stories that I hear…"

"Then why don't you tell me some?"

"Absolutely not," Kidd concluded with such finality that Elizabeth looked shocked. "You have no idea what goes on there, Lis, and I only have a faint clue. All I know is that many famous pirates go there, and none of them ever return. It isn't like Tortuga, Lis. There are natives there. There's witchcraft, voodoo, cannibalism…"

"Are you trying to frighten me, William?" Elizabeth asked him, one eyebrow raised.

"Jesus Christ, Elizabeth, I'm scared myself to go there!" he responded, shaking his head. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into. I am captain of this ship, and I am responsible for the well being of my crew. If I feel that they are in danger or at any point in time change my mind, I will turn this ship around faster than the wind can change course. I will never intentionally put my crew in harm's way, and I will never put you in danger, either. Is that understood?"

"William – "

"Is that understood?" he repeated, fixing his glare on her.

Elizabeth met his gaze and nodded curtly. "Understood."

"Good. I am doing this for you because I love you, Elizabeth. I want nothing more for you to be happy. Until your father handles Ratherford, we must stay as far away from Jamaica as possible. You came up with Tana, and I have agreed because I can think of no other place where us pirates wouldn't be arrested, shackled, and hung before we could utter a word. But if I think of another place, be aware that we will go there. I would go anywhere but Tana."

"I trust your judgment, William," Elizabeth said quietly, offering him a tear-filled smile. "And I thank you for doing this."

Kidd wanted to kick himself for the way he had lectured her. It was bad enough that she had lost her husband, left her home, and was headed halfway across the globe, but now her cousin was lecturing her about safety? She was a bright lass, and he had no place to do that.

"Don't thank me, Lis. I would sail across the entire world if you asked me to," he replied softly.

"Excuse me, but am I interrupting a cousin-cousin bonding moment?" came an unmistakable voice from the door.

"No, Jack, come in," Elizabeth replied. "We were just discussing our destination."

"Yes," Kidd chimed in as Jack approached the table and took a seat next to Elizabeth. "We've decided upon – "

"Tana," interrupted Jack, nodding.

"How the blazes did you know?" Kidd asked, surprised.

"Pirate's intuition, mate. The only other place in the world where a pirate can go to avoid detection."

"You've been there?" Elizabeth questioned, turning to look at Jack.

"Aye." He remained silent for a minute, and then turned to Kidd. "It would be best if we leave ten of your crew on ship with Elizabeth. She should not be allowed into Tana."

"I beg your pardon!" Elizabeth gasped, angrily focusing her attention on Jack. "I am not going to be left on this ship like some piece of art, being guarded just because you have a paranoia complex and – "

"Like I said," Jack spoke louder over Elizabeth's protests. "She should not be allowed in Tana."

"William, tell him he is being absolutely preposterous!" she insisted. "I do not need to be protected. I demand – "

"You demand nothing, young missy," Jack said, suddenly angry. "You do not know Tana like I know 'er. She is not to be trifled with. No one is hated more in Tana than English aristocracy. I have seen the brutality they do to them with my own eyes. Do not think you know what is always best for you, Miss Swann...there are things in Madagascar that would make your hair curl."

Elizabeth remained silent, and Kidd knew that his cousin was suddenly aware that she might not be as knowledgeable as she thought. Jack's burst of anger had brought to light that she was still a somewhat naïve, aristocratic daughter of a well-to-do governor, who was far away from home and in a delicate condition. Those who had suffered under aristocratic rule would not take her to nicely. The realization seemed to make Elizabeth contemplate Jack's caution and Kidd's concern.

Kidd cleared his throat, and Jack turned to look at him. "We're on course. We should be there in perhaps a week, maybe less. The wind is picking up speed, and it is blowing' in our favor."

"Good," Kidd nodded. "You're my co-captain, Captain Sparrow. You know your pirating, and I know mine. You are a damn fine one, and I expect your help once we get to Tana."

Jack smiled. It felt good to be called "Captain Sparrow". "I'd be obliged to help ye, Captain Kidd."

Kidd smiled and stood up. "I will be making the announcement to my crew. If you'll excuse me." He nodded to Jack, winked at Elizabeth, and strode out of the mess hall.

Elizabeth, who had been staring down at her clasped hands resting in her lap, was suddenly aware of the closeness between her and Jack. She turned her head to face him and was startled to know he was barely three inches away from her face. She could see into his chocolate brown eyes, and noticed, strangely, that there was a glint in them.

"What is it, Jack?" she whispered, narrowing her eyes.

Jack smiled and remained silent for a moment. Just when she was about to ask again, Jack responded, barely above a whisper.

"It seems as though the whelp isn't dead after all."

~*~

"Not dead?"

"Aye. Not dead."

Bootstrap felt his heart collapse, and he was sure he was about to have a heart attack. He had trouble breathing, his vision blurred, and a ringing in his ears made him want to vomit. Not dead…his son wasn't dead…

"How do you know?" he managed to whisper.

"The curse isn't broken."

Bootstrap eyed Jack crookedly. "Then why were you bleeding? How were you on the verge of death?"

Jack shrugged. "The Gods play with its own rules. If they created the Curse, they could change its capabilities. Makes sense, aye?"

"You better as hell not be jestering me, Jack Sparrow. This is my son we're talking about," Bootstrap warned.

"Yes, yes, you're son, Elizabeth's husband, my whelp. Tit goes to tat, we share a drink of rum, and everyone's happy," Jack said. "But that means dear William junior is going to need to be rescued."

"Good. We turn back immediately," Bootstrap said. He stood up in his small room and began to gather up his things. "I'll tell Kidd."

"Bloody hell you will," Jack said, standing up and blocking the door. "The entire Royal Fleet of Port Royal is looking for us. If they find us, it's goodbye to all of us, savvy? You can't do that, Bill. You're being compulsive."

Bill turned towards Jack, his eyes menacing and his jaw clenched. "I can do whatever the hell I please, Sparrow. He's my son. I lost him twice, and I refuse to lose him again."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Oh for scurvy's sake!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "First of all, ye won't be able to get Kidd to turn this ship around. Second, ye ain't got a plan of action, and we all know what the absence of plans does to all of us. And third, ye won't only be endangering all of our lives, Bill, but you'll be endangering Elizabeth's. She's an accomplice to piracy, and Ratherford will hang her without a second thought. You endanger Elizabeth, you endanger your grandchild."

"Don't you ever accuse me of endangering my grandchild," Bootstrap said, placing his face three inches from Jack's. "I remember you, Jack, but I don't necessarily trust you. Just because we were friends does not mean that we're friends now. Your stupidity in telling Barbossa where to find Isle de la Muerta caused me to be flung overboard, and caused me to lose out in my son's life. I don't want your help, and I don't need it."

Jack stood there for a few minutes before answering. "You were never in your son's life, Bill. Don't pretend it be my fault he hates you."

Bootstrap unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Jack. "Say it again, Sparrow. I dare you."

Jack blinked and stared, shocked, at Bill Turner. "What happened to you?" he asked.

"I spent the better part of my life trying to find my son. Instead, he found you. Now he looks up to you like the father he never had. He rejects me and admires you." He lowered his sword and sheathed it, turning his back on Jack.

"You can't be serious," Jack replied. "You be his father, Bill, that's an undeniable fact. He's got your blood, and I told him that he's going to have to square with that some day. The poor lad needed a father, and I just happened to get meself locked up in jail around the same time his strumpet got carried off by Barbossa. He just happened to put the pieces together and realize that he needed my help. He saved my life, true enough, but he's got one father."

Bootstrap said nothing, and Jack suddenly felt embarrassed that he let himself get so emotional in front of someone.

"Everything was so much easier when I was marooned," reflected Jack, shaking his head. "Just me, the sun, and a nice bottle of rum. No sons, no wives, no grandchildren, no curse, nothing. Beautiful island, really."

"Are you talking about the first or the second time you were marooned?" Bill suddenly asked.

"The first, of course. The second I had to take care of that lass. She was all over me, mind you. Violated my privacy…couldn't keep her hands off me. Had to practically tie her to a palm tree to prevent her from flinging herself on meself. Ruined the view, really. We would've been a good couple, the young miss and me. Instead she threw it away on a Blacksmith. A waste and a pity, really."

"You're talking about my daughter-in-law, Sparrow. You may be able to speak that way about Scarlet, but not about Elizabeth. Be careful."

Jack smirked. "Oh, so you have heard about the infamous night between me and Scarlet? Let me tell you – "

"Jack!"

He turned to see Gibbs hanging in through the door. "Jack, we got a problem."

"What is it?" Jack asked.

"You'd better heard what a young lad named Smithe has to say. He was in Anamaria's quarters, saw her, and suddenly started rantin' and ravin'…"

"Smithe? Oh, the one with no relation to John Smith?"

Gibbs blinked. "What?"

Jack shook his head. "John Smith." Gibbs looked quizzically at him. "You know…Jamestown? Pocahontas? Am I the only bloody person who knows my history?"

"This be serious, Jack," Gibbs cut in urgently. "The curse might be broken soon, aye."

Jack stared dumbly at Gibbs. "What?"

"Young Smithe had a coin. A coin made of Aztec gold…with a skull on it," Gibbs said, rubbing his forehead.

"Had a coin?" Bootstrap asked, coming up directly behind Sparrow.

"Aye," Gibbs nodded vehemently. "Don't have it no more."

"That could be the reason why the curse isn't broken and Will is still alive," commented Bill to Jack. "There's another coin out there."

"Who took it?" Jack asked, gathering his stuff and preparing to follow Gibbs's beckoning. The man shook his head, apparently too baffled to speak. "Gibbs, answer, man!" he growled, panic rising in his belly.

Gibbs cleared his throat and wiped the sweat off of his brow "A certain dark-skinned lass named Anamaria."

~*~

I hope you like…not much action. But next chapter they arrive in Tana…you'll love it. Promise.

I'd also be honored if you reviewed to let me know what you think of the whole Tana idea…please? Thanks, mateys. :)