Author's note: Okay, mates, only one chapter left, after this one...I know that I have posted a lot since introducing my very first story last weekend, but I am enjoying myself so much with this. It will probably not be my only one, as I thought it would be; just too much fun. Perhaps a sequel... in the meantime, thank you so much for the wonderful support... A tip o' me tricorn hat t' all o' ye. Here is the second to last chappie. Pirate Cat

The Pearl rounded the southern tip of Africa and made preparations for the crossing of the Atlantic and home to the Caribbean at last. They sailed a distance up the west coast of the continent to take in many of the exotic sights and material things that were there for the asking. They visited for several days until it was rumored that pirate hunters were in the area; the Pearl took westward to open ocean.

Elizabeth had been coiling rope on the main deck, when she stood up to stretch and rest for a moment, leaning against the rail. She looked out over the lovely rolling waves... the sky was startlingly blue with only a few puffy clouds. She smiled as she looked down along the water at the prow of the mighty Pearl and watched the whitecapped water roll gracefully away from the sides of the ship as if they were sailing through the clouds, themselves. She turned to let the sun warm her face, and looked up at the quarterdeck.

She would always catch her breath at the sight of the two men at the helm. Her beloved husband, standing tall and straight, broadshouldered, purple shirt open at the neck and rippling in the wind, exposing the front of his scarred and muscled chest. Long legs, feet planted wide apart, with his hands folded serenely behind his back. His strong face, tanned and laughing, handsome and more mature than it had been on the day that they were to be married in Port Royal, a lifetime ago, until fate intervened. His curly brown hair blowing wildly, golden earring sparkling in the sun, the sword that he had forged with his own hands strapped to his side. The first mate of the infamous Black Pearl. Her heart swelled with pride.

Next to him, the Black Pearl's legendary captain, her husband's cousin. Smaller and thinner than his first mate, the captain's feet were also planted wide apart, hands gripping the wheel as though he would blow away if he let go, dark handsome face grinning with glee at the joke that only the two of them shared... it happened often, with those two. The captain's dark, long, wild hair blew fiercely in the wind, hitting both of them in their faces. Silver earrings peeking out from darkness. Long cotton sash around his waist, curling around the wheel of the ship, as though the red striped cloth were the captain's own slender, loving, delicate hands. Fate had intervened, again, long ago in a blacksmith's shop in Port Royal - swords were drawn, sparks flew, and a friendship was forged over the very coals that heated the finely crafted blades... destiny cried out that blood was thicker than water, and that these two were, indeed, good men, in Elizabeth's eyes .

She thought of Evangeline, the grandmother that her two men shared. The free spirited woman who had two sons by two lovers, Captain Jonathan Teague and William Turner the First... one was the wind, one was the anchor...

Elizabeth turned her face up to the billowing black sails and let the sun hit her face. She closed her eyes and silently sent thanks to the mysterious Evangeline Turner. I don't know where you are, but I want to thank you from the bottom of my very soul. You have given me the same things that you treasured... the anchor... and the wind... She then sent thanks to the sea goddess Calypso... You changed us forever... you gave us our new lives... you gave us knowledge, understanding, acceptance and hope... we were friends, before, and you gave us each other's hearts... thank you...

Jack was finally nearing full recovery from the affects of his terrible illness - his balance and headaches were improved, and on the day that they left port, his extensive stitches were finally removed, after the consumption of a great deal of rum, and much protestation. More rum was administered, of course. After what they had all been through and as ill as the captain had been, Jack's rum enhanced high spirits were quite contagious.

Elizabeth had promised Jack to help braid his hair, and retie his bandanna. She undertook this daunting task of braiding, once the stitches were removed, while the captain was loudly singing a rather raunchy sea chanty to Mr. Cotton's parrot, who had flown into the captain's cabin and perched on the back of one of the chairs to watch the proceedings.

Jack was carrying on quite a conversation with the bird, "Ye are a pretty thing, an' ye can talk, so I woul' s'pose ye can sing, birdie! Aye, 'dead men tell no tales', y'self! Ain't it a wonder tha' Rags hasn't made curried parrot 'n' rice f' supper? I shoul' feel bad if tha' happened... yer too pretty t' eat. If ye lose a feather, may I please put it in me hat?"

"Jack!" Elizabeth admonished, "Sit still!"

"...I asked 'im nicely. I said 'please'," Jack frowned, taking another hearty swallow of rum and bursting into song, again.

Elizabeth finally ended up smacking Jack on the back of the head as she was trying to tie the thick braid that she was making, "If you don't sit still, I shall tie this bandana over your mouth!" she threatened. She poured more coconut essence into her palm and continued to braid, pulling hard on Jack's hair as she did so. He winced and frowned darkly. She tied the braid at the bottom with a piece of bright red string, then stood back and admired her work. It had been some time since the captain's hair had been braided so neatly, and it shined.

"There, now, you almost look like Captain Jack Sparrow, again!"

Jack hiccupped. "I likes th' red string. Thank ye kindly, Izzy..."

They then went through the ritual of tying the red bandana back into place, with Jack fussing for several minutes until it was wrapped properly. He gingerly touched the new scar where his stitches had just been removed; he was almost sad that it would be covered by the bandana, as it was, in his opinion, a fine scar worth some good stories. It still hurt some, as did his still somewhat bruised face, but rum did wonders for taking the edge off.

Will had partaken of his share of rum also, and winked at Jack when he said, "Let us share with Elizabeth the task that you and I undertook while she was shopping at the marketplace with Gibbs before we set sail today, eh, cousin?"

Jack grinned and slurred, "Wha' task..? Oh, tha' one! Aye, 'tis time to share!"

Will winked at Elizabeth, and said, "Jack tells me that he used to be a tattoo artist, and that he designed several of his own tattoos..."

Elizabeth grinned, and giggled in a singsong voice, "I've seen all of Jack's tattoos… I've seen Jack naked!"

Jack scowled at her, and countered, also in a singsong voice, "Izzy's seen me naked... she owes me peek…"

Will intervened, "Alright, you two, let me continue…so Jack and I got tired of studying the charts one day, and I told him just show me how he would design a tattoo, and…"

Jack smiled proudly, "I made William a draw-ring!" Elizabeth stared at him.

"A drawing, Jack?"

"Aye, lass! Tha's wha' I said. A draw-ring". Jack hiccupped.

"Ready, Jack?"

Jack stood up next to Will, tossed his dreadlocks over his left shoulder, and the two of them pulled open the left side of their shirt fronts in unison. There, on the left side of each of their scarred chests, were matching tattoos, one of the most beautiful works of art Elizabeth had ever seen… a stylized heart - the heart of Davy Jones - stabbed through at an angle with Will's dagger, a wee sparrow gripping the hilt with its tiny claws, wings outspread. Trailing around the design were graceful tentacles - the tentacles of the Kraken. Elizabeth gasped.

"How beautiful!" She reached out to touch them both. Jack flinched. Will smiled… "Seems that my cousin is a bit more tender than I am!" he said, proudly.

"No, I'm not! I'd have to admit tha' I am a bit scrawnier than you, though." Jack muttered, sadly.

"Blacksmith," Will beamed. Elizabeth kissed him and smiled.

"Turned pirate," Jack answered, for no reason. He continued, slowly, with hands punctuating his words. "I know that we stabbed th' heart with a sword, but I couldn't draw'r a draw'ring o' th' sword. So we settled on th' dagger, savvy?"

Jack delicately poked a finger at Will's tattoo. Will didn't flinch. Jack frowned at him. He poked a slender finger at his own tattoo. "Ow. Good thing we was good an' drunk when we got these…"

Will put an arm around Jack's shoulder, and raised a finger in the captain's face… "YOU were good and drunk, Jack. I nearly had to carry you back to the longboat." Jack smiled, brightly, "... won't be th' last time, either."

Will turned back to a smiling Elizabeth, who was still looking at the tattoo on her husband's chest with awe. "It was either this, or become brothers of blood ... we chose this. Jack can't spare much blood these days. Sort of a family crest, don't you think?" Will admired his tattoo, Jack looked at it, then his own. One of his better draw'rings, Jack decided.

Elizabeth smiled at the pair with pride. Will had donned his blue bandana to tame his long, wild, curly brown hair some days back, and he and Jack were a wonderful sight to her eyes, standing shoulder to shoulder. "They are beautiful tattoos, I must say! Perhaps Jack has missed his calling." Jack tossed his head back proudly, swaying a bit.

Elizabeth then seized the opportune moment…"Well, gentlemen, I acquired something at the marketplace that I wish to share with both of you… please wait here!"

Will looked at Jack, his eyebrow raised. Jack smiled and said, "S'pose Izzy got a tattoo?"

They waited for her return...