Many thanks to all who have read this story and for those of you who have taken the time to leave a review - Thank You very much! Its been appreciated more than you know. This is it then – last chapter and just an epilogue to follow and than that's it, onto the next one!

Disclaimer: No, I still don't own POTC. Although the wind may blow them back to me one day.

Chapter 8 – Goodbye Jack

Mutiny was probably the ugliest word in the English language. Jack had spent some considerable time trying to come up with a worse one, but had drawn a blank all round. He pulled at his wrists in frustration and grimaced as the rope cut into his skin painfully. He had assumed, wrongly, that William would have tied them loosely to enable him to come up with some kind of escape. But no. Apparently William had not done that at all. He kicked at the door, already knowing that it wouldn't budge an inch. He wasn't disappointed there either. Jack sighed and sat down in dismay. This was really beginning to be a problem now. It just wasn't funny at all.

Jack raised his hands and scratched his head thoughtfully. If he could get himself out of the brig somehow, unlikely, what could he do anyway? He had no weapon. He was vastly outnumbered. And there was another storm overhead, quite a big one judging by the way he had been thrown around for the last couple of hours. Not an amusing pastime with one's hands tied together, therefore having nothing to break the falls with. Not funny at all. He would have bruises upon bruises tomorrow.

Ah. Tomorrow. Now that was going to be interesting. What was going to happen to him? Jack was nervous, no doubt about it. Barbossa had shown his true colours now and they were about as appealing as the jolly roger itself, strung up for all to see. The man had single handedly turned the entire crew, save for William, against Jack. That was a clever thing true enough and in entirely other circumstances, might have been rather impressive Jack mused. So what were they going to do to him then? Beat him half to death and throw him off the ship in the middle of the ocean? Keel hauling? Slit his throat and throw him off the ship? A fight to the death with Barbossa, which Jack would win, then throw Barbossa off the ship? Hmmm. Perhaps not, unfortunately.

Jack looked carefully around him. Difficult in the darkness, they hadn't even left him a lantern. The Pearl lurched again and he fell sideways, hitting his head on the floor.

"Bugger," he muttered to himself but saw no real reason to get up again, so Jack rolled over onto his back and stared out, albeit upside down,of the porthole above, at the night beyond. Not as stormy as the previous evening perhaps, but hard work to steer through nonetheless.

Jack lay on the floor for what felt like a long time, his bound wrists wresting on his stomach, thinking. Obviously he would not get his share of the treasure now – that was a real shame. He had lots of plans for that gold. Probably more plans than his share would amount to, to be fair but now there would be nothing at all.

But then, he thought, Barbossa was probably planning on killing him anyway. Well not Barbossa himself probably, more likely one of the men. He might make William do it, he was nasty enough. Ragetti or Pintel perhaps? No, that was foolish thinking. Blindfolded and with his arms and legs tied together, Jack could beat those two idiots. More likely William or Barbossa himself if he could muster up the enthusiasm. It really depended on how much he hated Jack, he seemed to hate him quite a lot in this current set of circumstances. He might take great pleasure in killing the man himself. Or he might think it good fun and sport to watch his friend do it.

Jack tried to prop himself up on his elbows but quickly found he didn't have enough free arm to do it, so he sat up cross legged instead. He wondered if it were possible for a man to go mad overnight with too much thinking and wondering over circumstance. If it was possible, he hoped it would happen soon so that he didn't actually care too much when they came down to the brig for him. He noticed he could see slightly better and realised it was starting to get light.

Jack jumped as he became aware that William was running down the steps towards him. He stood up quickly, hoping that William was coming to let him out. As Bill came to an abrupt halt on the wrong side of the bars, it became apparent he wasn't.

"Jack," he hissed, "The damn white ship! It's back! Barbossa wants to attack!"

Jack smiled. Of course Barbossa wanted to attack it. Why negotiate when you can blow holes in the side of a ship? It made no sense at all.

"Well, I do apologise for pointin' out the obvious William, but I'm sort of not in a position to do anythin' about it really am I?" Jack held up his wrists, as if in confirmation, then turned around and looked out of the porthole to see if he could see anything. He could make out the hull of the other ship, as white as the Pearl herself was black. An unnatural, ghostly white.

"Where the blazes are her crew I wonder?" Jack muttered. And then Jack saw something. And stared. A man stood at the wheel of the white ship. He wore a large hat, tilted, with feathers and a long coat. On his broad shoulder sat a monkey. Neither the man nor the monkey seemed to have noticed the Pearl, nor did they look in it's direction, but the man stared out to see as if deep in thought. As the moonlight cut through the cloudy sky onto the white ship, it revealed the man's features to be skeletal. How could this be? Jack's eyes widened and he could not tear himself away from the image. He could hear many shouts and cries above and he knew the crew were witness to the same thing that he was.

"Jack? What is it Jack?" Jack almost turned, he had forgotten William was there with him too, but he could not turn himself away from what he was seeing. Ship of the dead indeed, yet if it was a ship of the dead, it seemed a rather peaceful dead with no real intention of harm towards the Pearl. As Jack stared out, the white ship slowly faded again, as if it had never been there. An odd occurrence for a voyage sailing into cursed and haunted waters.

"Ghosts Bill," Jack sighed, sitting down again. "Or some sort of echo from the past. Or future. Who knows? Who cares?" He looked up slowly into his friend's eyes.

"It's a warnin'" William muttered, "Mark my words, it's a warnin. We been seein' all manner of strange things tonight. Theres an evil in the air…" He stopped, realising the irony of his words would not be lost on Jack.

"You best be getting' back to yeh Captain Bill," Jack said, "They'll be comin' for me soon enough. Do they know yeh down 'ere?"

William shook his head. It was almost light now.

"Bootstrap? Bootstrap! How nice of yeh to assist us like this…"

William snapped his head around to find Barbossa, Pintel and Twigg along with another couple of crew members hovering behind the new captain on the steps. Barbossa grinned at him.

William stepped back in horror, "No, I was jus'…."

Barbossa came forward and threw the key to William, who caught it on instinct. "Well, don' jus' stand there Bootstrap, let 'im out or we're not bein' a very good host now are we?" The others cackled.

Jack stood up. This was it then. Ah well – fine. He wasn't going to go down without a fight. And if it was Barbossa he was fighting, so much the better.

Barbossa expertly drew his cutlass and pointed it at William. Jack's eyes darted from William to Barbossa, then back to William.

"Open the door Bootstrap." Barbossa said quietly. Dangerously.

As William stepped forward, Jack noticed he was unarmed too. He took a step backwards, better for Barbossa to think he was unassuming and not a threat at all. However as William opened the door, Jack charged forward quickly and using both his hands managed to land a punch in Barbossa's face. Not hard enough to knock him over, Jack hadn't managed to swing enough for that, but one of his rings had caught Barbossa under his right eye and blood appeared. Barbossa staggered backwards a little but recovered himself quickly. He had dropped his cutlass but swung a punch back at Jack which hit the man square in the jaw. Jack immediately fell backwards, landing in a heap on the floor, dazed. Two of the crew hauled him to his feet.

Barbossa laughed and wiped his face with the back of his hand. Blood smeared across his cheek, "You got me there Jack, I thought I had yeh sussed. Still no matter, I won' be makin' that mistake again."

Barbossa spun and headed up the steps, the crew members dragging Jack along with them and William behind. Up on deck, it was light now and shaping up to be another sunny day.

The entire crew had gathered up on deck to witness the man's demise. Jack, held fast between the two crew members looked around at the men quickly. No friends among thieves eh! Not one of them was going to try and help him, that was obvious. If Jack couldn't think his way out of this quick sharpish he was going to the locker, this he knew.

"We can't talk about this then Barbossa? Have a drink and a little chat eh? What say you?"

Barbossa shook his head, "Nah, yeh see Jack, that's the attitude that lost yeh the Pearl. Have a good look around now. Cos in a minute yeh'll be partin' company."

Ragetti pushed his way through the throng and handed Barbossa Jack's pistol. Jack brightened at the sight of it. He struggled, if he could get free he could make a grab for it and blow Barbossa's bloody head clean off, but it was no use.

"I'll be leavin' yeh this," Barbossa explained, "Pistol with one shot Jack. Yeh know when a man is marooned, one shot won't do yeh much good fer huntin' but it will 'ave its uses in a few days I reckon." He laughed again. Jack doubted he had ever seen the man so happy, curse him for breathing!

Marooned eh? Jack thought he probably would have preferred to have been run through with Barbossa's sword. Marooned wasn't an easy option. Not a pleasant way to die particularly, thanks to the starvation and the god awful thirst. And a man could go mad with the heat first.

Barbossa waved theatrically out to sea, to an island in the distance. "Came across this by accident we did," he announced. "Don't even know if its on the map Jack. Thas' what makes it special see. It's a sign!" He grabbed Jack's arm roughly and hauled him over to the plank. "Go on then," he yelled, "To yeh new 'ome – fer a bit anyway!"

Jack stepped onto the plank. What other option did he have, realistically? None. He looked lovingly up at the Pearl, took in her every inch. His beloved Pearl. But perhaps a last ditch attempt to stay on board? Jack looked into Barbossa's eyes. "You'd have thought yeh'd need all the savvy men yeh can find with the nightly appearance of our white sailed friend……."

Barbossa threw Jack's pistol into the sea and then, as if losing patience with the whole thing, leant forward and violently shoved Jack. As Jack staggered backwards and fell off the plank, the last thing he saw was William's desperate eyes staring at him, powerless to stop Barbossa and powerless to do anything to help his friend. Jack knew that look. It was a "goodbye" look.

- oOo -

Jack landed in the water awkwardly and was winded for a painful few seconds. He wondered whether it would be best just to give up and take in a few deep breaths of sea water. It would be all over then, and he wouldn't have to give Barbossa the satisfaction of knowing he had successfully marooned Captain Jack Sparrow.

Jack opened his eyes and contemplated this very thought. As he did so, Jack looked down as something caught his eye. His pistol was just out of his reach being held out to him by a figure down in the sea with him. A skeletal figure with long black hair and a red bandana. Jack blinked in the water and wondered for a second if he had already drowned and this was some sort of watery hell he was now entombed in. The skeletal figure was surely an echo of his own dead self? Although, now he thought about it, the figure was grinning at him and actually looked quite happy, if it were possible for a skeletal figure to do such a thing. In confusion and fear, Jack swam to the man and took his pistol, his wrists still tied together and then swam towards the surface. Just before he reached it, he turned. The figure was some distance away now standing, incredibly, at the wheel of a white ship with white sails, under the water away from him. These were strange waters indeed.

Jack reached the surface and gasped in a lungful of air and turned to watch Barbossa sail away on his ship, feeling sadness, anger and all manner of emotions he couldn't put into words. With difficulty, considering he had no proper use of his arms and was holding a pistol that contained only one shot, he began to swim towards the beach of his new "home" – to plan how to get off the godforsaken thing.

THE END