The trip to the location Tia Dalma had shown us was not fun. By the time we arrived, it was absolutely pouring with rain, thunder and lightning only adding to the foreboding atmosphere. I was cold, wet, and miserable, but I was the one who seemed to be the most bothered out of Jack and his crew. I guess they were more used to tropical storms than I.

It wasn't long before we came upon a shipwreck, moored by a scattering of sharp rocks. The ship had been broken in two right in the middle, from port to starboard. This was tell-tale evidence of a Kraken attack, I thought to myself. Gibbs privately asked Jack if that was the Flying Dutchman.

"No," Jack said, his voice a low mutter. I shook my head along with him, even though Gibbs couldn't see it. "But it's been here. Can't let the whelp know that, though."

Gibbs nodded, looking worried. At this time, Will was looking out at the wrecked ship from the Pearl's railing. He turned back to look at Jack and Gibbs. "That's the Flying Dutchman?" he asked, unimpressed.

Jack was stroking his beard to try to hide his anxiety. Gibbs nodded slightly at Will, still looking out at the wrecked ship as if expecting the real Dutchman to come bursting through the fog at any moment. They both had every right to be afraid, however, so I couldn't hold it against them. That didn't change the fact that I felt quite bad for Will, because Jack was technically lying to him.

Will, however, had none of this fear that seemed to have taken over the other two men. He shrugged and turned back to the ship. "She doesn't look like much," he said as Jack, Gibbs, and I approached him.

"Neither do you," Jack reminded Will. "Do not underestimate her."

I nodded with a smile. It was very good advice, and something Jack had learned about Will the hard way.

Jack elbowed Gibbs in the ribs. "Must have run afoul of the reef," the first mate suggested, sounding more fake than not; his voice was too high and nervous sounding.

"So, what's your plan, then?" Jack asked Will after they simply stared at the wreck of a ship for another moment longer.

"I row over, search the ship until I find your bloody key," Will answered, annoyed that he was having to do Jack's dirty work for him.

"And if there are crewmen?" Jack inquired.

"I cut down anyone in my path," Will said simply, aggravation and venom in his usually agreeable voice. He pushed off the railing and went down to where Ragetti was holding a longboat ready for him, grabbing a lantern along the way.

Jack shrugged. "I like it," he said of the plan. "Simple, easy to remember." He and I followed Will, and watched as he climbed down the ladder on the side of the ship, which led down to the little boat.

"Your chariot awaits you, sire!" Ragetti cackled up at him, shouting above the wind and laughing at his own little joke. At that moment, with the howling wind, falling rain, and just the menacing tone in his voice… the mood struck me as altogether evil, and sent a chill down my spine.

Pintel, Gibbs, Jack and I leaned our heads over the side as the young man climbed easily into his boat. Jack hollered down at Will. "Oi! If you do happen to get captured, just say Jack Sparrow sent you to settle his debt! It might save your life!" he said with a nod, as though that was the only way it could be proven to be true.

Ragetti kicked the longboat with Will in it away from the Pearl. "Bon voyage!" the one-eyed pirate shouted as Will began to row towards the wrecked ship. As Ragetti climbed back up onboard, Jack turned to Pintel. "Douse the lamps," he told him, the humor now gone from his own, now slightly hoarse voice.

Pintel and various other crew members set about doing as Jack said. One by one, the lights on the Black Pearl went out, causing the ship to all but disappear in the rain, fog and blackness of the night. A hint of a smile appeared on my face. This was why it was good to have a black ship with black sails. We were almost invisible in this environment.

Almost.

We watched and waited for several minutes, our eyes squinted in an effort to see what was going on the broken deck of the other ship. I fidgeted with my hands, cracking my knuckles anxiously. I knew that the Flying Dutchman was coming. This was more than just foreknowledge of it happening. I could feel the ghostly ship lurking nearby.

I wasn't surprised when the giant grey form of the Dutchman erupted out of the water like a living thing near the wrecked ship, but I was still struck with awe. My mouth dropped oven as I gawked at it. It had a strange sort of haunting beauty, but at the same time the vibes of evil and danger were still very strong. I could sense Davy Jones' magic and the magic that the ship held - the lost souls bound in servitude. It gave me more chills than the cold rain ever could, and I subconsciously found myself wrapping my arms around myself.

Those upon the deck of the Black Pearl couldn't stop staring, and rightfully so. Many of them, who weren't even remotely religious, crossed themselves and closed their eyes as they started to pray. Briefly, I heard Ragetti mutter something about wishing he hadn't left his Bible back on the Pelegostos' island.

I knew that Davy Jones' malformed crew was now swarming the wreck, rounding up the few survivors. A flash of light told me that Will was fighting back with his sword that had been dipped in tar, then smashed into the lantern, causing it to set on fire. He was no match for the sheer number of powerful and cursed crewmen though, and it wasn't long before he was knocked unconscious. I sighed and, as though the weather was trying to make it easier for us, the rain stopped.

I decided to send my mind over to the other ship just as Davy Jones himself was walking on board. I could see and hear his crab peg-leg thumping against the wooden deck; his large beard of writhing octopus tentacles was disgusting, but somehow hypnotic to watch. Jones walked up to his left tenant, Maccus - a man with a hammer-head face and lobster legs kicking out of his spine.

"Five men still alive. The rest of moved on," Maccus told his captain promptly, his eyes then swinging to the men as the others leered.

Jones walked down the length of the lined up survivors, including Will. He paused at one man and slowly closed his crab claw hand. Jones leaned in close to one trembling and whimpering survivor and lit his pipe.

"Do you fear death?" Davy Jones asked the terrified man, blowing smoke in his face. A tube on the side of his face blew out his match and exhaled smoke. "Do you fear that dark abyss?"

His voice was almost hypnotic, and I had to fight to stop from trembling. His thick accent mixed with his words, and his mock-pleasant tone; it was chilling, just to have to hear it. The trembling man managed to nod.

"All your deeds laid bare," Jones continued. "All your sins punished. I can offer you an escape."

The man looked up at Jones with a gleam of hope in his eyes.

"Don't listen to him!" another man shouted. A moment later he seemed to realize what he said and gasped, immediately averting his eyes and staring down at the deck he kneeled upon. Jones whipped his head and looked at the man, noticing the rosary clutched in his shaking hands. Jones got up and grabbed the man's throat in his crab claw. He glared down at the man's wide eyes.

"Do you not fear death?" Jones asked, taking a long drag on his pipe and narrowing his electric blue eyes. There was only defiance there.

"I'll take my chances, sir," the man replied, raising his chin defiantly, his eyes devoid of even the smallest trace of hope.

Jones let him go and looked to one of his crew members who was guarding the prisoners. "To the depths," he told him.

The man who had protested promptly had his throat slit. One of the cannons was fired as his body was dumped overboard. I saw Will cringe.

"Cruel blackguard!" another prisoner spat at Davy Jones.

Jones looked down at him coldly. "Life is cruel." He gave his pipe two sharp taps on his crab claw to empty it. "Why should the afterlife be any different?" Davy Jones turned his gaze to the rest of the kneeling prisoners, focusing on the one he had addressed earlier. "I offer you a choice. Join my crew and postpone the judgment. One hundred years before the mast. Will ye serve?"

"I-I will serve," the man said after a moment, vigorously nodding, though shaking and with a stuttering voice at the same time.

"There," Jones praised, his eyes once again wide with a restrained sort of glee.

The rest of Jones' crew laughed. The new member didn't know what was going to happen to him, though seemed ready to accept it. I wondered how many of them regretted joining Davy Jones' crew when given time to reflect upon it, later.

Jones walked down the line and paused at Will as if he had only just noticed he was there. He frowned at him. "You are neither dead nor dying," he accused, the malice back in his voice. He glanced at Maccus, then demanded of Will, "What is your purpose here?"

Will knew he was in trouble, so he played the card Jack had given him, though he seemed very hesitant to do so. "Jack Sparrow… sent me to settle his debt," Will answered in trepidation.

Jones' beady eyes widened and he took another step towards Will. "What is your purpose here?" he asked again, as if he wasn't sure he had heard him properly.

Will shrugged. "Jack Sparrow… sent me to settle his debt?" he repeated, phrasing it as though it was a question.

Jones' slimy face broke into a grin. "Huh, did he now? I'm sorely tempted to accept that offer!"

I blinked in a slight panic and my mind crashed back with my body beside my assignment onboard the Black Pearl. Instantly, I played victim to a small headache, which I ignored in favor or what was about to happen in front of me.

Jack had been watching the goings on through his telescope. I bit my lip, still a little more than slightly concerned for Will, even though I was sure he was going to be okay. Jack focused on Davy Jones as the cursed captain turned and stared across at him. The next thing we knew, Davy Jones had appeared on the deck of the Black Pearl and was standing right in front of us. I had been expecting him to do this, but even still I was startled. I yelped and jumped back as the rest of the crew gasped in fright. Some members of Jones' crew had crossed over with him, and they moved to restrain Jack's crew, holding blades to their throats to make sure they wouldn't move. I bit my lip and saw Pintel and Ragetti whimper in fear. Jack watched them, startled. Then he looked at Davy Jones.

"Oh," was all Jack could think to say.

Davy Jones lurched forward menacingly, his tentacled beard writhing. I clenched my jaw to stop from saying something I shouldn't and also from throwing up. "You've got a dept to pay," Jones growled. "You've been captain of the Black Pearl for thirteen years. That was our agreement."

Jack and I had been forced backwards, intimidated by Jones. "Technically, I was only captain for two years," Jack argued, struggling to make his case, "then I was viciously mutinied upon—"

"Then you were a poor captain, but a captain nonetheless." Jones strutted around Jack, mocking him. "Have you not introduced yourself all these years as 'Captain Jack Sparrow'?"

Jones' crew cackled. Jack closed his eyes and sighed, knowing that his runaway ego had once again landed him in a bad spot. He opened his eyes and turned to face Jones. "You have my payment! One soul to serve on your ship. He's already over there." He gestured wildly over his shoulder to where Will was still on the wrecked ship.

"One soul is not equal to another," Jones countered dangerously.

Jack took the chance to leap on this loophole. "Aha! So we've established my proposal is sound in principle. Now we're just haggling over price." I had to smile just a little at my assignment. He had managed to find a small hole in an otherwise ironclad deal and was now going to exploit it for all it was worth.

Davy Jones gave Jack a quizzical look. "Price?" he said, popping his wet, fishy lips in a very strange, almost uncharacteristic manner—though perhaps it would have been more so if his whole face didn't consist of octopus tentacles.

Jack took this as a positive sign, and continued to spin his new deal. "Just how many souls do you think my soul is worth?"

Davy Jones thought about it, popping his lips some more. Then he decided on an impossible goal. "One hundred souls… three days."

Jack was smart enough not to push this goal too far. "You're a diamond, mate." He turned and started to walk away. "Send me back the boy. I'll start right off." Jack found his path blocked by a hissing Maccus.

"I keep the boy," Jones insisted. "A good-faith payment. That only leaves you only ninety-nine more to go." He and his crew laughed again. I frowned at them.

"Jack, remember Jones' weakness," I said. His eyes flickered to me. "Love." Then Jack remembered what Tia Dalma had said about why Davy Jones had cut out his heart in the first place and a small, knowing grin spread across his slightly scruffy face.

"Have you not met Will Turner?" Jack asked Jones, turning on his heel and striding right up to him. "He's noble, heroic, a terrific soprano," here I flashed a grin and suppressed a giggle, "Worth at least four… maybe three and a half." I nodded, silently agreeing. Then Jack went in for the kill, getting at the cursed captain's core. "And did I happen to mention… he's in love?" Jones' blue eyes snapped up at the word 'love.' Now Jack really had his attention. "With a girl," Jack specified. I rolled my eyes. He started to circle around him, and I followed my assignment, keeping a watchful eye on Jones. "Due to be married. Betrothed. Dividing him from her and her from him would only be half as cruel as actually allowing them to be joined in holy matrimony, eh?"

Davy Jones' eyes were not visible to us, but I knew they swam in deep, yet momentary sadness. He was remembering his own lost love, the pain it had caused him… he seemed to hesitate, but then just as quickly, he snapped out of it. He looked at Jack over his shoulder, then re-announced his final decision, his voice bitter.

"I keep the boy, ninety-nine souls." Jones turned to face Jack. "But I wonder, Sparrow, can you live with this? Can you condemn an innocent man, a friend, to a lifetime of servitude while you roam free?" He cocked his head, awaiting Jack's answer.

I shook my head, biting my lip once more, silently pleading with Jack not to do what I knew he would do. Jack frowned, then suddenly grinned. "Yep. I'm good with it." I slapped my palm to my forehead with a sigh. I knew that decision was going to come back and bite Jack in the ass later. Jack, however, didn't seem to notice my reaction, or if he did, he was ignoring it. "Shall we seal it in blood…um…" Jack looked down at Jones' tentacle-like hand. "Ink?"

Davy Jones grabbed Jack's left hand in his tentacled one and squeezed tightly. Jack gasped at the unpleasant sensation, and instantly, his eyes seemed a little unfocused. "Three days," Jones reminded Jack darkly. Then he let go, (with a bit of difficulty from the suckers on the tentacle,) and he and the rest of his crew disappeared onto the Flying Dutchman.

Jack looked with disgust at his slime-covered hand. He watched as the Black Spot on his palm faded. I breathed a slight sigh of relief; he spot was gone, as were Jones and his crew temporarily. True, they had Will… but I had every confidence he would be able to look after himself, plus he had his father there to look after him too.

Jack spoke up, his voice slightly wavering. "Er, Mr Gibbs."

Gibbs approached Jack. "Aye?"

"I-I feel sullied, and unusual," Jack said, his voice slightly distant, as if lost in thought.

"And how do you intend to harvest these ninety-nine souls in three days?" Gibbs asked, more than a little annoyed that Jack had led them—once again—into trouble.

"What's the only free port left in these waters?" I asked Jack, already knowing the answer myself. Jack knew once again what I was talking about; I had to smile, because I loved not having to explain everything to him. He was smart, even if some of his more unsavory habits outshone this.

"Fortunately, he was mum as to the condition in which these souls need be." Jack's voice regained strength and the Jack Sparrow spark. That meant he had a plan.

Gibbs understood what Jack was intending. "Ah, Tortuga."

Jack wiped his slimy hand on Gibbs' shirt. "Tortuga," he agreed, not even reacting as Gibbs looked down at his now sullied shirt in disgust.

I grinned. "Turtuga. It's about time we docked there."

Jack and I shared a smile; he confidant in his plan, and me trying to believe that it would work, even though I knew it would not…