A/N: Even though Jack says "so there is a curse" in the movie, I had him know about the medallions and why the crew was returning them. The way I always interpreted it was that so many stories would have spread that Jack would have figured there was some truth to the notion of skeleton pirates running around, but still had to see it for it to completely sink in. I hope that's not too confusing. On with the show.
Outflow: air that floats outward from a thunderstorm
"Couldn't we just find one and cut off one of its claws?" Gibbs asked after passing an hour in the small rowboat with Jack.
"That's a bit too much like giving a wicked queen a pig's heart instead of a girl's, don't ye think?"
"I don't understand it," Gibbs growled, shaking his head.
If he was going to be quite honest with himself, which he usually avoided, Jack would have agreed. The compass led them to this exact spot, a small lagoon with some surf, a miniature beach. However, he thought with a pout, it had taken a considerable amount of time to force himself to want some crab more than the Pearl. He snatched the compass out from his pocket and gave it another look.
"We'll wait a while longer," he said. "Keep your eyes on the sand. Might see one scuttling by."
"You said it's to get the name of the ship we need. If ye just went to Port Royal now, you'd have more time to just find out on your own." Jack didn't even have time to think of an excuse. "It's Norrington, isn't it? God almighty, ye may have been better off asking for some way to bypass him."
There was a thought. Leaning over, he dabbled the water with the tips of his fingers, splashing a tiny minnow zigzagging by. Captain Jack Sparrow shouldn't be anxious to avoid anyone, he told himself. It wasn't even fear, just that deadly knowledge that upon being caught, it would be straight to the gallows with some pitiful excuse for a trial beforehand and then nothing would change, except he'd be dead and Barbossa would feel a fraction more justified in captaining someone else's ship. Closing his eyes, he tried to recall every inch of the cluttered mass Tia Dalma called home, every spell and potion she had ever mentioned.
"She does have something like that," he whispered, pulling his hand out of the water, the tip of his coat sleeve wet. "Stay here for just a while longer. I need to go back to the shack."
"Hang on, what are you planning to do?"
"I walk in once she's gone, search the place, and then we leave." What if the spell requires a list of ingredients far rarer than a one-clawed crab? What if she never leaves? What if she forgets something on her way out and catches him ransacking her house and thusly turns him into a newt? Just as countless doubts began orbiting around such a simplistic idea, the details of it came to mind. With a less than graceful large step, he leaped out of the boat onto the surf, watching it wobble. It managed to stay afloat. "Mind the boat!"
Off delivering something wrapped up in a basket to some villager. Typical medicine woman, Jack snorted, smirking almost cruelly as he crept into the shack. Candles and the fire gave the illusion of broad daylight inside, so he went to his knees and crawled around the table, his eyes fixed on a stack of undecipherable clutter behind it.
Kneeling, he sifted through some rags, chests of claws and foreign poetry, models of ships, dolls, were those actual wooden shoes?...and a book that spent its days here instead of on the shelves with its brethren. Flipping through, Jack discovered quickly it was a dream dictionary. Page after page explained the hidden meaning behind every image and color one's brain could conjure. He swallowed. An old memory stirred and shoved all others on its way to the front of Jack's mind, discarded, but never forgotten. Before he could shake his head at himself, he flipped through until he found the entry "baby."
To see a baby signifies innocence, warmth, and new beginnings. Babies symbolize something in your inner nature that is vulnerable, but not corrupted. To see a baby being born signifies a desire to be cared for.
Jack longed to exhale a loud "ha" at the meager explanation, once again not finding any answers. Because it wasn't just a dream, he justified. It happened. Somewhere in the world, it had really happened...
His eyes snapped open and his head recoiled from the sweat-stained pillow as if it were a hot iron. Struggling to control his breathing, he sat up and stuck his head between his knees. In six days he would be fifteen and what just happened left him wheezing and clutching his chest. In sleep, he'd seen a woman he'd never seen before on a bed, a much more splendid one than his own. Four high posters supporting thick opened curtains, piles of once-immaculate sheets and quilts—sumptuous would have been the word for it had the woman not been screaming in agony. Her hair fell in front of her face, limp from the exertion. Maids surrounded her, their caps failing to cover the worry on their faces.
One of them, a bit older looking than the rest, squatted down at the foot of the bed, mercifully blocking whatever was between the bed-ridden woman's legs. He couldn't hear her voice over the cries, but it looked like she was shouting "push." A younger maid, the one who had been wringing her hands and pacing blurted something to which the others hushed her and led her out of the room. If he had known he was sleeping, Jack would have snapped his eyes open and ended it all there.
But the vision chose for him to stay, the screams more and more unbearable until another voice joined them. The older maid gathered a red, slippery bundle in her arms that was shrieking like a banshee. Jack couldn't listen to it, it made his heart stop, but the woman looked up with exhausted but loving eyes and held out weak arms to the baby. The vision started to fade just as someone's mouth moved to say "girl."
Jack stood up and went outside, shivering in spite of the warm breeze.
"Jackie?"
It might as well have been a ghost, he thought, staring wide-eyed at his mother. Her nightgown, shawl, and unkempt hair slung guilt at him on top of everything else.
"Did you have a bad dream, love?" She felt his head. "No fever, but you're soaked. Volete dirmi circa il vostro sogno?"
"No," he said, not sure he could even begin to describe it. He folded his arms and stared out into the field. Sighing, she nodded, kissed him, and mumbled something about taking him to a fortune teller if he wanted.
He'd rejected magic then. Out of stubbornness or being cautious, he asked himself, knowing far more magic existed in the world than he did when he was a boy. Whatever happened to what a man can do and what a man can't do? Standing upright, he adjusted his hat and hummed on his way out the door.
"Well? How did it go?" Gibbs asked.
"New plan, Mr. Gibbs. We shall be taking the Jolly Mon for far longer than we originally planned. All the way to Port Royal."
"Anamaria won't like that."
"That cannot factor in. What you will do is, upon a short side trip to Tortuga, you will listen for any information regarding the Pearl while you wait for me."
"Wait for you to do what?" he asked, squinting and cocking his head.
"To tell you the rest of the details of the new plan," he said. How dare Gibbs assume he was making this up as he went along! It was so simple a child could do it, arrive in Port Royal, find the fastest ship around, and track that villainous Barbossa and his crew of traitors. As for just how that would all be accomplished, he would have to think some more.
"It's not in the best condition, Jack. Might do for a bit of repair once we get somewhere..."
"Then we shall find an island in-between where you can barter for safe passage to Tortuga whilst I proceed onward." It took a vast amount of restraint for him not to roll his eyes. "The Pearl is within my reach, our reach, if you remember that the title of first mate is reserved for you, and I intend to take advantage of the opportunities presented before me."
He would get his ship back. Captain Jack Sparrow would get he wanted, and what he wanted was his ship...and to get out of that bargain with Jones...and to live, really live...to experience something he had never experienced before.
A/N: The Italian in this chapter is supposed to say "do you want to tell me about your dream," but I used an internet translator and those things are known for being unreliable, so if I need to be corrected, don't hesitate to say so. Anyone know why I suddenly can't copy and paste on my documents anymore? I have Writer and can save docs as Microsoft Word docs, but for whatever reason, copy and paste are faded out meaning I can't use them. It's a little annoying and I'd love to change it. Any tips?
Judging from the way they interact and talk about Jack's plan, I always assumed he and Gibbs had been in close contact and it hadn't been years or anything like that since they'd seen each other. Also, since Gibbs said going after the Pearl was a fool's errand and yet pretty much commandeered it for his own near the end of the movie, I'd say he would be pretty game on finding a way to get it out from under Barbossa.