The pirates, Isaac thought, looked most confused. Indeed, most brows were furrowed and Cotton's parrot pranced upon the man's shoulder squicking quietly as if muttering to itself. Sighing and with a bit of reluctance he was certain would have cost him more than a glare from Jack had the captain seen it, he loosed himself from a giggling Elizabeth, apologizing for the interruption, and followed Jack's quick step toward the cabin. Not to his surprise he heard heels tapping rapidly behind him, and at the door he ushered Alice in before him. He reached for the handle but a dark hand slapped his away from it. Brows lifting, he looked down at Anamaria, and nodded she and a grouchy Gibbs in as well. Two small dark heads darted in, pushing past the two pirates, and Isaac shut the door promptly behind him.

Stepping through the drapes at the end of the short and narrow corridor, he saw Jack pacing, and young Jack attempting to keep up. The boy was shadowing the oblivious captain as his small sister tried motioning to the pirate in an effort to tattle on the other. The effort went unnoticed, however, as Jack picked the tiny tot up and, turning on his heel, sat her on the cushioned bench. Little Lucy's face soured and she crossed her arms, sticking her tongue out first at her reciprocating brother and then at the captain's retreating back as he picked up his pacing again.

Glancing at Alice, Isaac found that he was not the only one hiding a snicker.

"Glad ye could all join us," Jack said, bowing slightly as he rolled his eyes. "Though I don't believe I asked any of ye here 'sides the lad—not that lad," he said, looking back at the shorter Jack and frowning as he caught the maniacal mouthing of his words a split second before young Turner froze and grinned up at him. Shaking his head, the captain turned back to nod at Isaac. "To follow."

"Are you calling me a lad?"

Jack's eyes narrowed on him.

"And you didn't ask me," Isaac said, crossing his arms, "to follow. I simply did."

"It was implied." Jack crossed his own arms. "And you're still a lad until I tell you otherwise."

"Pardon my interruption, King Sparrow," Alice cut in, her voice betraying that she did not care whether the captain pardoned her or not, "but what is going on? It's not like Elizabeth to act like such a wh—"

"Hug-happy harpie," Jack put in quickly, glancing over his shoulder at both the children, the girl staring curiously down at the two cat faces that stared up at her and the boy with arms crossed like his, behind him. Wearily, he turned back to the woman. "Yes, Miss Witter, you're right. Elizabeth is not herself at present, nor shall she be until we find Will Turner. Who's apparently gone missing." He smiled stiffly at a red-faced Gibbs. "In a boat, I'm sure."

"But how?" Irritated, Anamaria crossed her arms as well. "Gibbs was supposed to be watchin over the Pearl, including her boats!"

"Aye, that I was—and I was." The sailor flushed deeper red and glared at her. When she ignored him, he turned apologetic eyes up with a timid shrug at the captain. "Don't know how I coulda missed it, Cap'n."

Jack shrugged. "Sail-sliding fiasco I imagine." He turned a scowl on Isaac. "Which is why it's you, Foolish Laddy Faust, that shall be accompanying me."

"Accompanying you where?"

"Town." Jack flicked a hand at the air. "To find the other foolish lad."

"If he's going, I'm—"

"Staying here," Jack told Alice, turning on heel to face her with a wide grin. "Watching over Elizabeth. And the children. With," he glanced at the gloating Anamaria and grabbed her, throwing an arm around her shoulders and presenting her to the open-mouthed Alice, "this lovely lass."

Anamaria's lip twisted.

Before either could counter his decision, Jack pointed at a giggling Gibbs. "And you're watching over everyone, mate."

Gibbs grumbled.

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

The route from the Witter cottage to the settlement was a long one, and Jack and Isaac stood at the gate staring down the dirt road that in the dark seemed to stretch forever. Both sighed. Jack turned forlorn eyes on his feet. They'd seen better days for the long walk ahead. In particular, days when he had not raced up and down the steps, slid on sails, fended off the attack of an angry Ice Queen, tred the Pearl with a child in his arms, and danced with each of the three women that took residence upon his ship. One, of whom, in her rum-soaked stupor, kept stepping on his toes. The only other person who'd managed to do more damage to his digitorum dancing was Isaac and that had been when he was but a boy with two very heavy left feet. Wincing at both the ache in his toes and the memory of teaching Faust the boy the incidence of the waltz at the insistence of a very insistent Alice Witter, he lifted the lantern and stepped forward.

"What makes you think he'll be in town?"

"Unless Will's got a secret want to chat and chitter with the crickets," Jack said, plucking the very insect from a precarious dangle off of a low-hanging branch and placing it gently on the dirt, "I doubt he'd prefer the wilderness."

"I don't know," Isaac said, stopping to watch the insect that meant good luck hop down the road. It made a decided leap to the frond of a fern and he listened to it chirp happily on finding its new home, and the young man's blue eyes sparkled. "They do sing the loveliest tunes, afterall."

"Well, lad, I've never known Will to be the musical sort."

"So he doesn't dance La Macarena, I take it?"

"Lord knows," Jack said, rolling his eyes, "how I have tried to teach the lad to dance. I'm under the impression that he simply refuses to."

"Why are you under that impression?"

"When I showed the dance to him," Jack said, lifting a branch that blocked their way. Under it he arched a brow at Isaac, who'd scrambled to hold the other side. "He said, 'Jack,'" the pirate paused, glancing at the straining branch and stepping under it with a shrug, "'I refuse to do it!'"

"Oh," Isaac said, letting the branch snap back in place, "that's a good reason then."

"I thought so. As I'm sure your reason for playing pander to Elizabeth's bawdy behavior is a good one as well."

"Certainly."

"Great!" He smiled and nodded decisively. "Let's hear it."

"You're serious?"

Jack arched a brow. "Am I ever not?"

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

Anamaria lifted her chin.

Alice lifted hers higher.

The two women had been facing each other, arms folded, for what seemed like an eternity. Even the two children stared at them, their eyes wide and stances unmoving, as the staredown ensued. Finally, Anamaria's eyes narrowed and she turned on her heel toward the door.

"Where are you going?"

Irritated, Anamaria threw a hand in the air and turned to face the woman. Though her face was straight as ever, Alice Witter was frantic, wringing her hands as she tailed her toward the door. Anamaria smirked at her and lifted her brows. "To watch over Mrs. Turner!"

"But you can't leave me with the chil—"

"Oh can't I?" Anamaria flung the door open, grinned over her shoulder, and slammed it in the woman's face. She breathed a sigh of relief at having successfully wrangled out of watching the children. When she opened her eyes, however, a troubling sight greeted her. A row of pirates, and Elizabeth, were dancing. Hips bounced along with Marty's bongo beat, and then altogether the line swung their rear ends and spun to the right.

"Aye, Macarena!"

A young man, thin and flashing a wide grin, stepped forward to bump his rump against Elizabeth's. Anamaria's eyes narrowed on him, and her mouth dropped open. Growling, she clenched her fists and her side and stomped toward the two. The drunken woman's protests she ignored as she shoved the pirate away. "Ya rascal, Roth!"

"She started it," he protested, face flushing.

Elizabeth's giggles drew Ana's sharp gaze but she whipped her head around and glared daggers at the man. "But ya know she is a married woman," she spat, glaring at the rest of the men, "and so do the rest of ya!" At their muttered apologies she rolled her eyes. "Ya ain't sorry. Go back to yer dancin. You," she said to Elizabeth quite a bit gentler, "are comin with me."

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

As Isaac had launched into his tale that consisted loosely of his meeting a fiery lass in London and his losing her to a luckier lad, Jack had muttered his congratulations and condolences, all the while glancing warily at their surroundings. No matter how many death-defying stunts he pulled he could not shake his fear of the forest. And it was an altogether reasonable fear, he thought, what with the thick foliage—his gaze hooked sharply to it, panic rising in his chest as he swore he saw it move out of the corner of his eye—and the strange shadows cast on the ground from the low-hanging vines and branches. Not to mention the unidentifiable sounds which whispered in his ear. He shuddered. Hoping Isaac had not noticed, he glanced at him and was happy to find the lad still nattering on about…

Love?

"Stop." Jack grabbed his shoulder and shook his head at him. But he broke off, certain a shadow flit past his eye. Spinning, he found the bush previously at his backside shaking, and shouted, jumping backwards and throwing his arms around a startled Isaac. The two of them, shaking but unable to move, watched as the branches parted.

A black mouse scurried out, skittering to a stop in the middle of the road.

Jack sighed with relief. Remembering suddenly his death-grip on the lad, he shrugged away, clearing his throat and frowning at him. The lantern had fallen from his grasp and as Jack leaned down, as gracefully as possible, to pick it up, he eyed the animal.

Wide little eyes stared back at him, the mouse seeming just as startled as the two men had been. Both of its round black ears twitched with its tiny nose. Jack nodded at it. He noted, as the mouse sat on his back legs to shake a paw at him, that the no longer phantom menace looked as if it were wearing gloves. But the animal was off, darting across the road, tiny white paws kicking up a trail of dust behind it.

"Afraid of a mouse, are we?"

Ignoring Isaac's chuckle, Jack shrugged. "You never know, lad." Straightening his coat, he looked ahead and found, much to his relief, the bright light peaking through the branches. Tortuga was just through the trees and they were nearly there. "Not all mice are meek. Remember the story of Big Mild MacDonald."

"The Scotsman?"

"Aye, many a sailor laughed at him for his strange system—fast feudal to be exact—of economics aboard his ship, but now his insignia is synonymous with wealth and power." He smiled and nodded at the town that lay ahead. "Aye, the golden arches of MacDonald. Who knows? Perhaps one day the mouse shall twitch its ears and giggle and everyone will pay attention."

"I think you may have had one drink too many."

"Aye, that could very well be the case," Jack agreed. He shoved the lantern in Isaac's hand and scowled at him. "Get Elizabeth out your head, lad. Not only is the woman too old for you, but she's got children and is spoken for by their father—who I might add is also one of the best friends I have ever had, despite the recent rockiness."

"Where do you think Will is?"

"Well." Jack frowned. "He's at odds with his best friend, his wife, and himself while generally feeling slightly insecure about a number of existing issues—a feeling which was probably brought on by the subconscious knowledge of his growing yet another year older…" He stopped as the forest gave way to the outskirts of the town. "All of which leads me to the conclusion that there's a very good chance we'll find him…"

They stopped as the forest gave way to the outskirts of the town. Isaac blew the candle in the lantern out and, making certain the wick was not aspark, hid it in the brush. Jack nodded his appreciation. Hands on hips, he turned to the town and considered it, gaze sweeping past a rosy-cheeked woman and her rosy-cheeked suitor to the rascal-ridden road ahead, where in the distance gunshots and peals and squeals of laughter rang out. Drunken voices rose and warbled above it all, singing into the night, and Jack arched a brow at the lad. "At the bar."

"Which one?"

Jack's other brow rose to match the one and he squinted down the street as if the answer stood before them. Indeed there were a number of establishments serving the stuff he imagined Will Turner was drowning his sorrows in, and he had no hunch to go on as to which of the many it was where the stubborn smith sat. Shrugging, he slung an arm around Isaac's shoulders and steered him past the rosy-cheeked couple toward the town. "That's what we have to figure out."

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

Ash and Cinder stared calmly back at Little Lucy, who had relocated but still gazed at the two cats as if entranced by their easy eyes. The three of them were sitting amidst the pillows of Jack's bed. From the foot of it Alice watched the girl warily. She hoped that the cats would entertain the girl, but in the case that they didn't, she worried what it was she'd do with her. As it was, she was sure the chit's brother, who'd been told to stay within the captain's quarters, was wreaking havoc on the room above, various thunks intermittently drawing her eyes narrow and up. Switching her gaze to the little girl, Alice found Little Lucy's dark eyes fixed on her and she forced a stiff smile to her face.

The girl's mouth perked and she pointed a stubby finger at the felines. "Nice tats."

"Thank you."

"Tats' names?"

"Ash," Alice said, nodding at the striped grey tabby, "and Cinder."

At the mention of his name, the darker cat flicked his tail and rolled happily on the bed, rubbing his face on the covers. Such a reaction drew a surprised gasp from the little girl. The chit's eyes lit up. Little Lucy looked up curiously from the preening cat, and Alice shrugged. "Likes to hear his name."

"Lite Untle Jat!" The revelation seemed to delight the chit. She cupped a hand over her mouth before dissolving into giggles. Then, suddenly, her eyes grew wide and the hand fell away. "May I pet him?"

"Yes," Alice said, smiling in spite of herself, "I think he would like that. Just nicely…" She watched the girl put a tentative hand on the cat's head. "Yes, between his ears is good."

Little Lucy giggled as the cat ducked his head back to draw the touch down his nose. "He lite that!"

"Oh yes, he is quite the attention hog," she agreed, leaning forward to stroke Ash's soft fur. "Just like your Uncle Jack."

"What about Uncle Jack?"

Alice looked up in time to see the other Turner dive onto the bed. At the less than polite manner in which he'd arrived beside her she arched a brow. Under her gauging grey gaze he turned away and she tucked away a smile, remembering the less than flattering stories that circulated about her. "Oh yes. Well you know, I was thinking of glaring at him when he returns. Turn him into an icicle for all of time to come."

Jack gaped at her. "You can't do that!"

"No," she admitted, sighing sadly. "But it would be nice if I could. Might shut him up once and for all…"

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

After having been squealed at and chased after several times, Jack was too tired to run when Giselle's triumphant shout rang out behind he and Isaac. He sighed and kept walking, pretending once again not to notice the lad's disapproving frown at the familiarity of yet another painted lady. To his dismay, Giselle was quick as ever, catching up quite quickly to them and smirking at the both of them, her darkly lined eyes frightful set against her pale face. Biting the inside of his cheek to keep from telling her that she'd overdone the eye makeup, he twitched a smile.

"Nice to see you!"

Jack shot her a dubious look, and watched as she lifted her skirts to step over an alarmingly yellow puddle. Lip curling, he shuddered and glanced worriedly down at his own feet just in time to step over another. Relieved, he sighed softly and came to a stop, parking a hand on his hip and raising his brows at the woman.

Giselle eyed him, a sneer twisting her too-pink mouth. "What's that about?"

"Oh so you've forgotten?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Eh?"

"As I seem to recall—and have recalled, mind you, for quite a few years—" he said, brows snapping together as he enunciated with fingertips in the air, "you shortchanged me!"

"Oh get over yourself!" Giselle snorted. "It was you who was in the hurry and don't you be blamin me for your own shortcomings, Jack Sparrow!"

"That's Captain Jack Sparrow," he told her, frowning, "and there was nothing short about it! Except my change." He raised his brows at her. "Change that you owe me still."

Isaac sighed and Jack glanced at him, wincing at the scowl on his face. The lad's blue eyes were dark with disapproval. Turning back he caught Giselle eyeing him curiously, and was about to excuse himself from the conversation when the woman stepped forward and squinted in the darkness to appraise Isaac. To his credit, the lad didn't utter a word as she reached forward to run her fingers through his silky locks, but his eyes went wide when she grasped his shoulders, stood on her toes, and kissed him. Surprised himself, Jack leaned back and considered the situation, noting the various hoots and hollers from the watching lot with a wide grin that only egged them on louder.

When Giselle broke away and turned to Jack, Isaac glared at her back and wiped his mouth furiously with the cuff of his sleeve much to the chagrin of the audience that had assembled. Two rather rowdy gents slapped congratulations on his back in passing. Growling his distaste for the matter, he glowered at Jack.

"Your son is he?"

"Aye," Jack agreed, throwing an arm around the lad's shoulders, "that he is."

Isaac's brows rose at him. "Am I?"

"In all the ways that count, lad."

"I missed you in London," Isaac said, blue eyes watering. "Every time Fainworth stomped off, I thought how much you would laugh to see his wig wobbling as he shook his head at us."

"Well I'm sorry I missed that."

"And when Hannover would tramp about town in his ridiculous disguise—"

"With the big hair?"

"With the big hair and the terrible—"

"French accent!" Jack grinned. "Oh I bet he's bloody good at it these days."

"He is." Isaac sighed. "You should have seen it."

"Yes," Jack agreed, patting the lad's cheek, "I wish I could ha—"

"Oh! Shut up 'fore I throw up," Giselle groaned. "Sickenin the both of you. Nauseatin, for sure. It's no wonder the other one ain't at your side and is off on his own!"

The both of them frowned, eyes rolling to stare after the woman who flounced away. Gritting his teeth, Jack tugged Isaac forward. The lad shouted as he tumbled to the ground, and Jack winced, hearing the snickers of the pirates around them. Turning, he noted with a wary eye that Isaac had fallen on his rear into one of the alarmingly yellow puddles, and smiled apologetically as he helped him to his feet. The lad scowled at him as he turned him around to survey the damage. Isaac's rear was soaked, and Jack arched a brow, stepping back when the lad yanked away and fixing a bright smile on his face to greet the anger glared his way.

"I did not miss this sort of trouble."

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but saw the blue eyes twitch to stare over his shoulder. Cussing a curse, he grabbed Isaac's arm and together they bounded after Giselle. Narrowly avoiding an altercation with a flower cart they slipped between it and its flustered French florist. Jack caught up with the woman first. He clutched his chest, wincing. Winded as he was, however, he flashed a grin at her. "Perhaps we could let bygones be bygones, love."

She snorted. "Doubt that!"

"No really, I think—" grumbling, he turned on his heel as she turned on hers and followed her around the corner, "—it's time to stop holding grudges over our heads." At her sharp glare he smiled. "And debts!"

"He's right, you know," Isaac chimed in, falling into step on the other side of her. "Perhaps it's time to bury the hatchet."

"Oh believe me! I'd like to bury the hatchet!" She stopped, crossing her arms and glaring up at the both of them in turn. She poked Jack in the chest. "Right in his greedy little heart! It ain't me who owes the debt!"

Jack winced.

"How much do you owe her?"

Jack looked at him in surprise.

"Well?"

The lad's brows knit at him, and he sighed, remembering the importance of their mission. Scowling, he reached in his pocket and retrieved a handful of gold. Finding Giselle eyeing the shine with wide eyes, he frowned down at it, part of his profits from the game of poker, and sighed, looking away as he held it out to her. "Take it," he said, squeezing his eyes shut and biting down hard on his lip to keep from yelping with the pain of allowing her to scoop out of his hand the gold he offered. Opening one eye, he saw it gleaming in her hands and he winced, quickly shutting it. There came to his ears the plinking sound of it being counted, and he grit his teeth. "I believe it's more than enough!"

Giselle smiled sweetly at him and pocketed it. "So it is." She looked from he to Isaac and back again, eyes narrowing. "What is it you're after, then?"

"You mentioned Will Turner," Jack reminded her. "Where is he?"

"Oh." Her brows rose and her lips twisted in a sneer. "Saw him earlier, I did, but I haven't a clue as to where he might be! Nice seein you Jack."

Jack frowned, watching her waltz off patting the pocket that puckered with the weight of his gold. He scowled at Isaac, whose eyes widened innocently. Grumbling, he dragged him past several drunken men toward the closest dingy drinking hole, hoping that they would soon find Will Turner and that their own luck was not any indication of how the women were faring on the Pearl.

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

Elizabeth landed hard on her bum. Anamaria rolled her eyes, looking down at the woman who had nearly pitched the both of them down the stairs at the start of their venture toward the Turner cabin. Now, sitting on one of the steps, she was giggling. Even as Anamaria adopted the tough stance of no-nonsense Captain Soledad, and hauled her roughly up and down the last few stairs, she giggled. When her wobbly feet gave out and tumbled the two of them to the floor, she giggled. And Anamaria sighed.

The both of them on their knees in the moonlight, the pirate scowled at the other woman. Elizabeth was doing her best to draw herself up from the hard wood of the floor when she caught the dirty look shot her way, and she gasped. Giggles finally, subsiding, she hiccupped, loudly, and pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes wide at Anamaria. Dread washed over the pirate as she looked from Elizabeth to the floor of Jack's ship.

"No, no, no!" Growling, she grabbed the gagging woman, shoved her into the cabin, and held her above the white porcelain washbasin. Not a moment too soon it was as Elizabeth lurched forward. The prayer of thanks that Anamaria quickly sent heavenward was punctuated by a wet, splattering sound that forced her eyes open. They immediately watered. The rancor was indeed rank, the pirate thought, frowning down at the woman shuddering in her arms. But seeing Elizabeth, who was and always had been one of the strongest women Anamaria knew, in such a pathetic position tugged at her heartstrings.

Reaching a gentle hand down, she swept the honeycombed curls up and held them loosely at the back of the woman's neck. "There, there now, Mrs. Turner," she said, hoping to soothe the woman as the contents of her stomach heaved into the basin. She winced. "It's gonna be fine."

At long last, the woman stilled. She reached for the folded washcloth and, sitting back on her knees, wiped her mouth. "Elizabeth," she said softly.

"What?"

"Please call me Elizabeth."

Anamaria looked down and into the big brown eyes that turned up at her. "Aye, Elizabeth," she agreed, offering the bottle of water at her side to the woman and watching as she rinsed her mouth. "We should get ya into bed, lady. Ya had too much to drink."

Elizabeth didn't protest as Anamaria helped her to her feet and to the cot. She sat quietly on the edge, eyes glassy as the woman helped her out of the gown—or what was left of it, Anamaria noted with an arched brow—and into her cotton sleeping gown. It was soft and it enveloped the women in the comfort of its cream colored warmth. Like vanilla, the pirate mused, helping Elizabeth into bed. Sitting on the edge of the cot beside the woman, she leaned forward and fixed the pillows behind her head. Satisfied, she sat back.

"Flirting with the captain's very son," Elizabeth said quietly. In the darkness it was difficult to see, but her eyes shone with tears as she looked up at Anamaria. "A woman married to one of the most steadfast men in the world. You must think me a wicked woman, Anamaria."

"Aye, I think ya a wicked woman, Elizabeth." Anamaria smirked. "But it ain't nothin to do with anything that's gone on tonight." Seeing the worry in the woman's eye, she reached for her hand and patted it. "Now ya listen, lady. Ya just had too much to drink. Who don't on a pirate ship?"

"Yes." A hint of a smile crossed Elizabeth's face. "I suppose you're right."

"'Sides… Turner might be the loyal sort, but he's been a right pain in the arse lately, aye?"

"Aye," Elizabeth whispered. She turned sad eyes to Anamaria. "But I miss him."

"He'll return to ya, lady. Just ya give em time."

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

They'd asked nearly everyone. Drunks, pirates, and thieves—one of which had sneaky hands that Jack had had to smack away from his pockets—knew nothing. Several other weasels tried to swindle them, offering false information and hints of being able to tell more for the right price. One had even described Will Turner as a fair-haired, bow-wielding man in green stockings. Then it was that Jack had decided that if they wanted to find the strapping young smith, Will Turner, and not some pretty fascimile who was good with an arrow—though, he thought, the skill might come in handy—he'd best describe him thoroughly before making any inquiry. One drunk had been so beyond reasoning that Jack had grabbed the guestbook of the inn they were standing in and drew Will's portrait. When he'd presented it, the staggering man had promptly fallen over at Isaac's feet.

It was then that the two of them had gone to the closest tavern and ordered two mugs of their finest. Nodding at the many scoundrels that hooted at him, Jack sat across from Isaac and took a drink of his rum. If it was their finest Jack shuddered to think what their worst tasted like. Isaac looked as apalled as he and they smiled at each other as they swallowed hard. Setting his mug back on the table—where it might stay, in fact—Jack pulled the portrait from his pocket.

If he'd ever doubted his hand the portrait he held in it was evidence to the contrary. The man on the page was certainly Will Turner, from the strong square jaw and the soft waves of dark hair against distinct fine cheekbones to the warm, dark eyes of a steadfast friend. Only a bit more rugged and a tad stronger and the face would have been William's. As it was, the man's face swam in front of Jack's eyes despite the differences on the page, and he sighed, shutting his eyes against the image.

"The both of you are giving me a headache. Think it's time the two of you settled your differences." There was a definite scowl in the man's strong, steady voice. "Fore you make worse this migraine."

Determining that there would be said no more than what was, Jack opened his eyes to find the image of Will Turner cast in shadow. Frowning, he looked up at Isaac, who frowned back at him—and beyond. Jack was about to turn around when a stubby finger jabbed past his cheek toward the portrait in his hands. He arched a brow.

"Look!" The stubby finger jabbed at Will's face again. "The likeness is astoundin!"

A long lean finger pointed past Jack's other cheek and he frowned at it.

"No," it waggled, "cos you ain't speechless."

"That ain't the point and you know it!" The stubby one jabbed menacingly toward first the waggling finger and then Will's face. "You mean to tell me that ain't the spittin image of the lad we done played cards with?"

"No." The long finger tapped the air. "I mean to tell you it didn't astound you cos you ain't speechless."

"Nope you ain't speechless," a third voice chimed in. Wavering, but without a finger to further enunciate.

Jack followed the long finger up the long arm to its towering owner and smiled pleasantly at the man who flashed him a grin. He then turned to the stubby one and found that man quicker, whose smile was wide and bright as the first. And then rolling his eyes up he found the third man who wouldn't hold still long enough to allow for even a first impression.

But the shaky one had gleaned enough of an impression of him, it seemed, as he gasped and pointed with an equally shaky finger at Jack's head. "Yo're Cap'n Jack Sparrow!"

"Why it is!" The stubby finger poked at the red bandana. "You're right!"

"Aye!" The long one drew out a strand of the beads and poked at the biggest one. "It is!"

The short and tall man withdrew their hands and smiled sweetly down at Jack.

"It is Cap'n Jack Sparrow," the three intoned, saluting together.

Pleased, Jack turned properly around and flicked a hand in the air, nodding a wink at them. "Good evening, gentlemen. You wouldn't happen to know where to find this young man," he asked, waving the portrait in his hand and treating the pirates to what he knew was his brightest beam, "would you?"

The three looked at it and then at him and then at each other. The short one frowned, the tall one bit his lip, and the shaky one shook a bit. Then they nodded.

"Played some draw with 'im, maybe," the short one offered. "Nice sorta man."

"What would you want with the lad?" The tall one folded his long arms. "If you don't mind me askin."

"Well," Jack said, tapping a finger at Will's face, "this is Will Turner. You may have heard of him. Skilled swordsman and blacksmith. Tad bit unskilled in the bargaining department. Married the governor's daughter. The son of Bootstrap Bill Turner, perhaps?"

Recognition dawned on their three faces, and the shaky one twitched a nod. "And friend of yours!"

"And a friend of mine!" Jack lifted a brow. "Where is he?"

The three of them shrugged at one another, and the short one nodded. "We can take you to 'im."

"Just let us grab a mug first," the tall one suggested.

"I have to tell you, mate." Jack shook his head and grimaced at his own mug on the table, seeing Isaac do the same. "I wouldn't recommend it."

The five of them-Jack and Isaac surrounded by the short, shaky, and tall pirates-trampled toward the end of town that Jack knew rather well. It knew him as well, it seemed. Familiar faces nodded at him. Familiar voices crowed out his name. And of course several very vocal women made known to all surrounding their familiarity with him, as much to the delight of the other scoundrels as to the dismay of a brooding Isaac. The three pirates seemed to revel in all of it, puffing out their chests and winking at those impressed by their parading a most prestigious pirate through town. Jack feigned ignorance to most of it, not because most of it was uncomplimentary-no, that would never be the case-but because the ever deepening scowl on Isaac's face and the way that the proud pirates leading them responded to all of the attention amused him well enough.

That withstanding, he did flash a few brilliant grins and even paused to accept kisses on each cheek from two identical young girls. He'd then treated both lovely lasses to a smile and a kiss to their knuckles. Such was purely unavoidable as he was Captain Jack Sparrow afterall. Though the two very angry looking sailors who'd barreled out of a bar and bounded toward him hadn't looked like they'd agree with the sentiment and, not in the mood for an intense debate, it was only then that he'd insisted that his party rush on toward their intended destination.

It was when they rounded the corner that Jack realized just where Will Turner was. At the end of the street he knew so well was The Faithful Bride. And it was then that he realized that he should have known just where Will Turner was the entire time they'd wasted looking for the lad.

"Will Turner going into one of the places you always drag him to," Isaac said, lips puckering. "Why didn't we think of that?"

"It was my next stop," Jack lied with a careful shrug. "I simply forgot to mention it."

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Aye."

Jack decided it best to leave it at that and spent the rest of their walk studying the strange pirates they'd met. The short one, whose name they'd learned was Toddul, was also rather round, and had the red face of the drunkest drunkard, though he smelt less of rum than his taller counterpart. That one had said with a slow drawl that his name was Lemmy, and he looked rather Lemmyish, really, by all estimation of all of the faces Jack would ever put to the name Lemmy. It was true also, Jack had to admit, that he was slightly intimidated-in the basest way of course-by the lanky man's towering over him. But then the one that made him the jumpiest was the jumpiest of the three of them, who was currently taking up the rear. Jack had to glance nonchalantly at him over his own rear, and found each time that the one they simply called Shakes was either twitching or flinching in some manner Jack would have previously believed was anatomically impossible. That and that his mop of black hair kept flopping over one eye. One-eyed people were slightly frightening, Jack found, and thus he could not look at Shakes' face even if the man stood still long enough to get a gander with but a glance. All three men were odd but Jack found each of them pleasant enough an escort.

He was near ready to turn around and invite Shakes to walk in front of him when the sound of rythmic stomping met his ears. Frowning, he looked toward the tavern, as it seemed to be coming from within, and shook his head. He'd heard plenty of stomping in the many fights that broke out but they were never as concise as what it was he was hearing at the present. The feet, it seemed, were stomping a beat.

The closer they drew to the place, the more surprising sounds he heard. Not only was there the stomping but also there was the wail of a fiddle and when they reached the door, he was dumbstruck by the sound of a rather merry-sounding baritone chorus singing a song he was acquainted with nearly as well as the song Elizabeth had taught him.

A pint of rum and a quart of grog rum tee fiddle dee dee!
It's the pirate's life for me.

He nodded as Lemmy ushered Isaac in front of him. Jack took his place between the tall man and Toddul. Shakes he felt peer over his shoulder, and though the man's trembling hand on his shoulder was really too much, he found that the sight greeting his eyes did not allow for any sort of interruption.

Eyes popping and jaw dropping, Isaac, too, seemed flabbergasted.

For in the center of the place stood the fiddle player and, to his right, three robust men singing the chorus. But as the song neared the verse so did the other two men near their line of vision, both stomping along with the crowd into view. The gathered group of gleeful good-for-nothings cheered as the stomping Will Turner, who seemed with his hair let down and eyes bright with boozing as gleeful and good-for-nothing as the rest of them, opened his mouth and belted out the words of the verse.

So I set asail aboard a ship,
Signed captain's articles too.
But I hafta be honest I'da signed anything, mate,
Just to be free on the ocean blue.

Jack's brows rose.

"Good singer he is," Toddul said, a touch of pride in his voice.

"Good," scoffed Lemmy, leaning an elbow on Jack's shoulder, "more like delightful."

"Ye'd think he was a eunuch."

Isaac looked surprised by the shaky one's observation, but turned his wide eyes to Jack. "Not the musical sort is he?"

Jack recovered quickly from the shock of the situation and tossed his hair over his shoulder, effectively ridding himself of Shakes hand. "He's also not the sort to sneak off my ship to Tortuga, slip into the Faithful Bride, drown his sorrows in drink, and play cards with pirates." He shrugged. "Perhaps this trip did him good afterall."

A pint of rum and a quart of grog rum tee fiddle dee dee!
It's the pirate's life for me.

A cheer went up amongst the pirates around them, and Jack turned back to the center of the room. Will and his prancing partner had hooked arms and were jigging in a circle as the three men sang the chorus. When they traded off, Jack bit back a grin. The huge man who stepped forward to belt out the next verse, Will clapping and stomping him on, was exactly who Jack had thought he was-right down to the scar across his cheek. With a glance over his shoulder at his friends-Isaac who made to follow him and the other three who were nodding their heads to the tune-Jack slipped into the crowd.