I stood at the edge of cave and stared, mouth slightly ajar, not believing what I could see. I had heard of buried treasure – but the idea of a musty chest under three feet of sand did not compare to this. The caves of the Isle De Muerta was an image firmly fixed in my mind after this brief visit, and even today I cannot find the words to describe the place. It is beyond description. Gold, in the form of coins, jewelry and ornaments, covers every available surface. The place sparkles like the inside of a diamond. I was no stranger to wealth, but these caves overwhelmed me.

I gazed, taken aback, at Sparrow, who was stepping through the endless gold, here and there touching pieces as if they were old friends. Once again I took in his shabby, unfashionable clothes, unkempt hair, rough hands and scarred face, I wondered what he was doing living the life he did; here was enough treasure to live in luxury for the rest of his days!

The others were making their way through the hoard, like harvesters in a wheat field, culling what they needed. Sparrow, picking up a bronzed statue from a vantage point across the cave, spotted me standing agog.

"Are you here to help, or to sit there moonstruck?" Shaken out of my surprise, I made my way over to Gibbs. Ana, I knew well enough, would not tell me one thing about this mysterious place, no matter how much I begged her.

"Mr. Gibbs, what is this place?" I asked rather breathlessly as I tried to keep up with his businesslike pace, taking the trinkets he handed to me.

"The Isle De Muerta, secret anchorage of the cursed pirate crew of the Black Pearl." I stumbled, letting a string of jet beads fall from my grasp.

"What?"

"Oh, not us missy, ye have no need to worry about that. That's the crew that was under control of the evil Captain Barbossa, who Jack killed, despite him being under a curse of immortality. Some say it was because the bullet Jack used was moved by righteousness, and it sent Barbossa straight to hell." I listened, saucer-eyed. Gibbs could always be relied upon for a good tale, but this beat them all. "Aye, his soul may have gone to hell, but his body is buried on this very island. Some say it's best not too take to much of the treasure, or you may uncover the damned Captain, rotting in his own greed." I quickly pulled my hand away from a large pile of doubloons.

"That's why the Captain didn't want to take the treasure!" I exclaimed, realization dawning. "And that's why he took me to help instead of any of the crew – he doesn't want them finding the body either!"

"No young missy, that not it. Them's be true pirates on the Pearl – steadfast man, good sailors – but greedy and covetous down to their very bones. If they knew there was so much shine here they would take it all, most likely kill Sparrow and spend their whole lives regretting it."

"He's just a greedy coward them." I commented. "Wants all this for himself, and won't share it with his crew – dishonest I call that." I said with a snort, hoping Sparrow was close enough to hear.

"Cowardice doesn't come into it. Ye see that chest over yonder." There was a chest, an ancient stone thing, onto which fell the single shaft of sunlight that was reflected in all this gold. "In that chest there be eight hundred and eighty two pieces of…."

"Gibbs." Sparrow strode over, almost wading through the coins. "I'd wager we have enough now, I'm anxious to get back to the Pearl, quietly."

"Aye sir."

It took us some time longer to get back to the ship, laden as we were with riches. The tide was not with us, and Gibbs, Ana and Sparrow took turns battling against it with the oars. All told it was nearing what I had once called high tea time when we were safe aboard the Black Pearl.

Duncan was at the helm, and had had the presence of mind to make sure most of the watch were below deck making repairs when we landed. It was Cotton and Pueblo who hauled up the boat and helped us stash the haul into Sparrow's cabin. It would have been too bulky to take the Pearl's worth in coin, so we had mostly picked up jewelry – gold or silver and heavily set with stones, and statues in gold and bronze. "So pretty." I had commented, "Easy to melt down." was Sparrow's opinion.

"El Dolrardo." Pueblo breathed, handling the pieces with a kind of reverence, I wondered if he had ever seen such opulent ornaments before.

"Pieces of eight, pieces of eight." Cotton's parrot squawked in agreement.

We set sail for Tortuga later that evening. The crew were mostly too busy with keeping the ship afloat to gossip much more about our brief visit to the island, and Ana commented dryly to me that the storm may have been a blessing in disguise.

Indeed, if nothing else it had certainly proved to clear the air and raise everyone's spirits, including my own. Soon this voyage would be over and Sparrow would take me home! Home. The word had a curious resonance in my stomach, and mind leapt away from the fact it would mean never seeing Ana again, never joining in sea shanties in the Berth.

But that evening I pushed those ideas from my thoughts, and sat alone on the forecastle, enjoying the fresh night air and the extra grog Sparrow had ordered for every hand aboard, the rum being in too short supply to drink neat.

The storm had chased away all the clouds and the stars wheeled above me, I leaned back – head on the gunwale, making myself dizzy by staring straight up into the heavens. I had always been fascinated with the stars, we were land bound, and indeed bound by the rules of the land. Yet the stars obeyed no rules but the timeless ones of orbit. Strange that they should at once be so precise as to be able to set a course by them, and at the same time be such things of mystery and superstition. Astrology and the blasted ramblings of fortune tellers came from the position of the stars, and yet it was also a new star which began our country's own religion.

As a girl, I had never been allowed to learn astronomy, and certainly not astrology. For hours and hours I had battled with French, and yet never had never met a Frenchman who didn't address me in my native tongue, been taught to read philosophical questions I wasn't permitted to answer, could play the piano better than the people we hired for that purpose. Yet I had to remain ignorant about one entire half of my landscape.

I knew I was mulling over old grievances, and regretfully tore my eyes away from the sky and looked about the ship instead.

It was all lines of shadow, thrown up by the rigging and sheets. A pirate ship never liked to advertise its presence, and there were few lamps on the Black Pearl. A couple of sailors were about, keeping our course. Sparrow was still above deck as well – not at the helm, which was manned by Gibbs, but as close as, sitting on the steps to the quarterdeck, hat off, boot-clad legs stretched out, evidently enjoying his grog. I sighed, in all my spying and musing, I had really not got any further in my purpose. Oh, I knew enough to rile the fool, but I still didn't understand him.

What was this man about?