Postscript
May 18th, 17--: The next morning, the prisoner's cell was found to be empty. I stood for some time, staring at the little space, cold and colorless and grubby now that she was gone.
Among the clumps of dirty straw littering the floor, something glinted. I bent to pick it up.
It was a lone bead, with a strand of flaxen hair threaded through it. I tucked it in my pocket, and smiled a little, despite the heaviness in my heart.
The legend has quickly become the newest in the collection of tales of Jack Sparrow: how he ghosted into a prison guarded by an entire regiment of the Royal Navy to rescue his lady love and their unborn child and slipped out again without ever being guessed at or challenged.
Is there truth to the legend, you ask? As much as any, I suppose.
She went free. What more does one need to know, for certain?