Not sure if people want me to continue this story or not cause I didn't get any reviews for the last part. Not very happy with this part posted it anway.
The water was cold, shocking and disorientating. For a moment Jack didn't know which way was up and which was down. The salt was stinging his eyes and wounds, flooding into his nose and his mouth. That second of panic seemed to stretch itself out for an eternity before he forced his body to go limp and allowed the density of the water to carry him upwards.
His head broke the surface and the sun on the brilliant blue sea was almost blinding. He coughed up brine and treaded water with his legs. Though some of the crew still leaned over the railings to laugh at him The Black Pearl had already started to turn and sail away.
An overwhelming sense of confusion and betrayal filled him. They were his crew. He'd thought they were his friends. And the Pearl was his ship.
A cold, tired feeling was seeping through him. He wanted to stop kicking, to close his eyes and sink back into the blue embrace of the sea. The pistol at his side seemed like a stone weighing him down. If only his hands weren't tied he could make use of it. No! That shot wasn't for him. It was for his former first mate. Even if it was the last thing he did he'd see it pierce Barbossa's heart.
That thought filled him with a sudden rush of energy and he started to swim towards the island. It was a fair distance away, especially with his arms bound, and the blood he was loosing was going to attract sharks. But he was going to make it. He had to survive if he was to see Barbossa dead. He swam harder.
The waves washed him onto the beach like a piece of driftwood. He tried to stand but couldn't get his feet under him. Too exhausted to move he collapsed on the wet sand.
Pain was the first thing of which Jack was aware upon returning to the waking world. He lay with his eyes closed, trying to take slow even breaths. For several minutes he didn't move. Then, forcing himself upright he stumbled into the dappled shade provided by a grove of palm trees.
The first thing to do was to get his shoulders back into their right positions. Dam. That was going to hurt. He wished he had some rum.
'A nice big bottle, filled with that lovely drink. That's what I be needing' he thought as warily he eyed a sturdy looking trunk. Positioning himself sideways to it he moved back a few steps. He bit his lip and ran at the tree.
He swore and yelled and cursed bloody murder. He'd gotten the angle wrong and only succeeded in causing himself a considerable amount of pain.
Lining himself up more carefully this time he ran again at the tree.
It wasn't until his fifth attempt that he managed to relocate the shoulder.
The second one though, he got in two tries.
Now he had to get untied.
It took him ten minutes to find a sharp enough rock and close to an hour of rubbing to saw through the rope.
Sitting on the sandy ground he examined his wrists. They were bruised and bleeding but free from that rope at least.
He starred out at vast expanse of blue ocean – trapping him on his tiny island.
'Now what do I do?'
Jack had been marooned for three days. Most of that time he'd spent exploring and searching for food. He'd never liked to sit still for long. But more than that, to be constantly busy with something kept him from remembering or thinking about what had happened. The frequent jolts of pain were not so obliging.
He'd just managed to crack open a coconut and drank the liquid inside thirstily. That was the biggest problem with this place. There was nothing to drink except the coconut milk and never enough of that. And it made him feel sick anyway.
For what must have been the thousand time he looked out across the sea, hoping that somehow, irrationally, he would see The Black Pearl returning for him. He froze.
There was a ship headed for the island.