Evening fell with a crash. The wind picked up again, and with it Barbossa's desire to make some sense of Jack's maps and set sail for the Isla de Muerta, once they had sold the remaining tea. He stared blindly at the maps.

Come on now, he thought. Think like Jack would.

He continued staring, vacantly, for five minutes. Then he abruptly stood up and marched out, returning with a bottle of rum, which he downed unceremoniously and slammed onto his desk.

Right. Start thinking like Jack now

It was no good. Instead of thinking like Barbossa trying to think like Jack Sparrow, he was now a drunk Barbossa trying to think like Jack Sparrow whilst trying to remember to think things like, Do not sing 'Betty, Bitch of the Ocean', and Do not immediately relax all bladder muscles.

He swayed. "Oooh," he muttered, "I don't feel very well."

"Erm, am I interrupting?" asked an all-too-familiar voice.

Being inebriated had robbed Barbossa of some of his self-control. He yowled softly and banged his heels against his chair legs. He would have given anything for teeth resilient enough and jaw muscles tough enough to eat the desk. "What do yer want, ex-Captain?" he demanded, letting bitterness drip off his words. "Have ye come with plans to spray the ship with perfume so that 'tis more agreeable to yer nose?"

"It's time to dine," Lovehaste said coldly, and stalked in awkwardly (she was wearing some sort of duck-egg blue gown with French lace, which contrasted oddly with her uneven tan and the steady accumulation of dirt on her face and hands). Ragetti and some other random deckhand wandered in after her, carrying supper for two on a tray. They reverently placed it on the dining table and watched Barbossa anxiously. Lovehaste hovered behind her chair. Barbossa sighed heavily- obviously he was going to have to put up with this for the second night running.

But was it so bad? After Jack? (Lovehaste was pouring him some wine. Oh well. In for a penny, in for a pound. He downed it, and grinned at her appalled expression. "Trying to get me drunk, Lovehaste?" "I- er- that is- no!" "Good. I'll have another glass, if yer please.")

When he'd jumped ship from Swift to Gosander, the desire to find the pirate father who had left the family once and for all when he was thirteen still burned strong, but now with a pessimistic edge. Decades he'd searched, full decades. The old man was probably dead. (Lovehaste was saying something. "Wha?" he asked. "I said," she said petulantly, "do you really find my eyebrows that offensive? Because... for you..." "Do it for yerself," he said hurriedly. "Ye don't need to bring me into this." "But I want to," she said, giving him what he thought of as Cow Who Has Just Been Surprised From Behind eyes. He pushed away his meat, his appetite suddenly vanishing.)

Gosander was not a good captain, and within a fortnight of Barbossa joining his disgruntled crew, he had attempted to board another pirate ship, which turned out to be The Black Pearl, and had got himself exploded. No-one was injured except himself and the then-mate of the Pearl, who had been struck through the heart by Gosander's thighbone. (Barbossa realised he must be really drunk, because suddenly, Lovehaste was several seats close. She was smiling. It was the most dreadful thing Barbossa had ever seen.)

What really impressed Barbossa at the time was the captain, a cheerful, drunken, wobbly-legged man had actually given the defeated crew a chance to surrender and not be tortured. At that moment, Barbossa felt like he'd been given a new lease in life. It was honour and gallantry he'd never experienced before. He had clambered aboard, seized the captain's hand and demanded to replace his first mate, wild admiration clearly rampant in his eyes. Instead of looking amused or disgusted, the dreadlocked, handsome and clearly bonkers captain had just looked politely perplexed, then said, "Course, matey. Welcome aboard." (Lovehaste whispered, "I know how you feel. I feel it too." "Indigestion?" gabbled Barbossa. "I'll send for some hot water bottles, that always helps." "Oh, you silly captain," she purred, or tried to purr. It sounded like she had a bad cold and was speaking through a curtain of phlegm. Barbossa felt oddly as if his colon had been replaced with ice.)

Barbossa had abandoned his quest for his father on that very day. In fact, being first mate to the madcap Jack had made him feel very regretful and remorseful for having never been a father himself. In a way, being first mate to the man was rather akin to being his parent.

"Barbie!"

"Aye, cap'n?"

"My hat! It is dirtied! No, worser still than that. It is profaned!"

"It'll wipe off beautifully when it dries, Jack."

"Curse your wiping! It must be laundered!"

"We are possessed of no laundry, cap'n."

"I refuse to sail without a nice hat. If I get shot today by the Royal Navy, they will look over my body and say, 'Coo, that Captain Jack Sparrow, he was the greatest of the great but he had a dirty hat. Coo. Let's write that in the history books.'"

"'Coo', Jack?"

"Honest employment makes a pigeon of a man, Barbossa! Now stop trying to change the subject!"

"Just use my hat, Jack..."

And there were days when Jack would awake from a hangover and deal with it by drinking solidly for three days. At the end of this rum-guzzling marathon, he would throw his arms about Barbossa's neck and burble, "Oohyeraluvlyfella, loveyer, trustyer, loveyertopieces. Marry yer if yer weren't so ugly!" Then he would belch enormously and try to make Barbossa dance with him. "Hwun htwo three fourrrr... nooo yer fool, yer sposed to spin me. I'm a pretty maiden! Spin me!" When Barbossa, usually sober, solemnly refused and tried to make Jack go to bed, Jack would run off into the darkness at the other end of the ship, and happily sit on the prow, singing tunelessly to the dim and distant horizon, watching anxiously by Barbossa, who was always convinced Jack would fall off if he took his eye off him.

("It must be so long since you last... enjoyed a woman," murmured Lovehaste, stroking the back of his hand. He hastily withdrew it and sat on it. "That's a fact," he said, mentally adding and I'm not enjoying this one either. "Well, I do owe you a thank you for saving me from drowning..." Barbossa tried to protest as she leaned in for the kill but it came out as a hiccup.)

For the first year, despite the trials and tribulations Jack forced on him, Barbossa could not have been happier. Aboard The Black Pearl, he found something that he'd never had before- a family. More importantly, he'd found someone to care for. Whatever history related, whatever it wanted to say to spite him, nothing could take away from him that first year when he had loved Jack- loved him like a dear friend and a son.

Unfortunately, love is a high-maintenance pet and, if it doesn't get exactly what it wants, it turns nasty and bites and scratches. Barbossa had found that out, and Lovehaste was about to.