Alternative Ending – Chapter Twelve: The Fountain of Youth

It did not take long for Garcia and Sparrow to meet up in the clearing of the cavern. Jack scanned the area. Inside it was difficult to determine if the natives had sculpted into existing rock or imported rock to build the structure. It was not as elaborate as tribal temples Jack had seen in the past, but this was definitely not a natural layout. The cave was long but not dark. There were pockets in the rock which served the purpose of windows.

"Tristan!" Jack called ceaselessly until he saw the boy. When he saw Ragetti and Pintel standing near by, Jack's sense of mercy faded. "Back away from the boy you scum," he threatened.

Pintel obeyed and slowly backed away with his hands raised. Tristan ran to his captain. Jack knelt down to check on the boy's condition.

"You alright, son? You hurt?" Jack questioned.

Tristan shook his head. "He shot Mr. Ragetti," Tristan whimpered.

"Want me to finish these two off?" Garcia offered enthusiastically.

Jack looked at Tristan.

"No, it's alright. Barbossa's left them," Jack said.

"Can you help him?" Tristan begged his father.

"Sorry, lad," Jack said slowly.

"Mum can," Tristan suggested. "If we get her she can fix him up, I know she can."

Jack shook his head.

"We can't leave him!"

Jack tried to calm the boy down but it was futile.

"Hey now," Ragetti said calmly. Tristan ran to him. "Don't you worry 'bout me. Go on. Jack'll take care of you. Won't you, Captain?"

Jack put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "We'll not leave him," he assured his son.

They could hear voices echoing ahead, though what those voices were saying was not clear. Everyone continued on while Pintel remained behind with Ragetti. Jack promised to return for them both. The two captain's were busily lost in their own minds trying to plan out the next move. They had more to consider now than just the prize.

"They seem scared of children," Garcia said to the other captain.

"They seem concerned about the children," Jack added.

"We're not so crazy for bringing them along after all, eh, Sparrow," Garcia chuckled.

As they continued to walk, the passage narrowed. It was like standing where the passage was pinched. This is where the most elaborate trace of human activity could be seen. The surrounding walls were carved and painted. Displayed vividly was the image of a fountain, boxed in by two wells, one on either side of it. Tristan gave a knowing nod to his captain, and his captain returned it. Garcia broke out in elated laughter.

"The fountain of youth," Garcia said in awe of the picture. His hands traced over the image.

Jack and Tristan examined the image too, however, their eyes passed more readily over what surrounded the images they were already familiar with.

"Snakes," Jack said, looking at the numerous carvings, "very small snakes."

"Snakes are a known sign of prosperity," Garcia said, ignoring the concern in Jack Sparrow's voice.

"And temptation," Jack added.

"Are you afraid, Senor Sparrow?" Garcia laughed.

"There wouldn't happen to be a curse on these waters, would there?"

"If you call eternal youth a curse," Garcia laughed. "Besides, we have the workers to test the waters for us."

"The kids?"

Garcia laughed at Jack's apparent ignorance. "The fountain gives any man the strength of his most prime capacity. These boys, even at their strongest, what can they do?"

"A strong boy cannot surpass a strong man," Jack paraphrased.

"Exactly."

Jack looked down at Tristan.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not take that chance," he said softly to himself.

They continued in the narrow passage. The images of snakes followed endlessly all around them. Joining them were images of men, old men, and as they walked down the passage, they became strong young men. When Garcia saw these images, he became overly excited about finding the fountain. He cheered himself on in Spanish. Jack however was more concerned about how the image continued to be portrayed. That now young man began to age again.

"Nothing lasts forever," Tristan whispered to his captain.

Jack put his hand on his son's shoulder again, leading him along.

"Keep a weather eye," Jack whispered to the boy.

They passage opened up once again. Now they stood in a wide yet low opening which fed three separate tunnels. Warriors once stood guard at each opening, but now laid dead on the floor.

Garcia's humour faded. "Which way?"

Jack looked down at Tristan.

"It's like the picture. Well. Fountain. Well," Tristan said, pointing to each one accordingly.

Garcia laughed at the simplicity of it. He tugged on the rope leading his young workers. "Then we go to the fountain."

Jack was tempted to stop him but held his peace.

Garcia noticed that Jack was not showing signs of following.

"Captain Sparrow, you are entitled to a share, as we agreed. I am a man of my word, Senor."

"I believe you, Captain, but I'm not sure if that's what I'm looking for. Be sure to holler should Barbossa and his miscreants be down there."

Garcia laughed and placed his hand over the hilt of his pistol. "I am a man of my word, Captain Sparrow. I will tell this Barbossa that this was from you."

With that he tugged on his line and disappeared into the middle passage.

Jack looked at Tristan. "Well?"

Tristan looked all about them.

"Over is the fountain, under is the basin," Tristan repeated from memory. "But I don't see a way under anything."

"Turn around," Jack said. Tristan complied and held up the back of his shirt. Jack's hand traced along the markings on the boy's now very sensitive skin. "Over. Under. A basin. Little snakes. Aqua de Vita."

"Aqua just means water, is doesn't mean fountain at all," Tristan said.

"Water in the wells. Water in the fountain. Water in the basin." Jack looked up for a moment, "There are no little snakes near the basin. Why is that, I wonder?"

"Maybe they aren't snakes at all," Tristan suggested.

The chalice portrayed on the boy's back had a skeleton and an angel fighting over an hour glass. Jack analyzed it. Death and life fighting for time.

"Drinking the wrong water might cause death," Tristan continued. "What if those snakes aren't snakes at all? Could they not be parasites?"

"Stagnant water," Jack said. "The wells feed the fountain. It's possible. But how is the basin secure? How is it accessible?"

Jack thought back to the sight he had witnessed, the bodies of men slowly decaying in front of him. Any longer and they could very well be walking skeletons.

"Maybe it isn't death at all," Jack thought aloud.

"What?"

"Remember the chart? The chalice?"

"Death and the angel."

"What if that isn't Death. What if it's just one of these men?"

"Then the angel might not be Life."

"That's a question now, isn't it?"

As Jack continued to analyze the boy's back, Tristan's eyes wandered. Overhead, carved into stone was what looked like a winged demon holding a closed clay pot.

"I think I've found something," Tristan said.

Jack pulled the boy's shirt down and looked at where his son was pointing to.

"Well that sure as hell is no angel," the captain said. He tried to reach up to it, but it was just above his reach. He looked down at his son. "I knew you were small for a reason," he said and picked his son up.

Tristan reached up. The pot in the figure's hands was loose. As he touched it, it turned. "It's an hour pot, not a glass," Tristan said.

As they heard the sand poor slowly into the other end of the pot, a louder grinding could be heard. The floor in front of them slowly sunk down, revealing a fourth passageway.

"How long?" Jack asked his son.

"For as long as the sand holds out," Tristan replied.

Jack had to think. If they both went down they could both get trapped. If Tristan stayed above, he would never be able to reach the figure on his own to turn it over again.

"Tristan," Jack said, taking hold of his son, "you don't have to come with me."

"I know," he replied, "but someone has to keep an eye on you."

Jack smiled and patted the boy's shoulder.

"Let's go then, and quickly."

As Jack and his son entered through the passageway, they were quick to realize that it was not empty. There were numerous people who stood around, watching them as they approached cautiously. Jack held his sword firmly in one hand and held his son close with the other. He was prepared to be attacked just as before. He watched those around him. In mere seconds he saw the various faces age. It was much faster than those he had encountered earlier. It was eerie. The further the two walked, the more they could see the surrounding men push themselves back against the walls. They were not there to fight Jack off. They were not there to stop them.

"Why are they just standing there?" Tristan whispered.

"The sacred waters are above," Jack concluded.

"But I thought the waters above killed people."

"Death is a greater force than any form of life, son."

"So they don't care? That we're here, I mean?"

Jack didn't reply. He wanted to see what would happen first. As they continued on they saw what looked like an open steam bath. Men of all ages stood around the pool while others were immersed in the waters. There were skeletons on the floor, some half in the pool, and some fully in the pool. The bones rested as just another part of the crowd. Two men in particular, who sat in the steaming pool, caught Jack's attention. They seemed about the same age as Captain Sparrow, but Jack knew that appearances would be deceiving while around the water. One was obviously a native of Florida; the other was not so obvious. The native spoke first. His language was undecipherable. Jack looked down at the boy hoping that he would have a clue, but Tristan looked just as confused and awestruck as the captain. The second man spoke in a different language, translating for the first. Jack could recognize this one although he could not fully follow it. He looked down at his son again who was already trying to translate the Spanish into English in his head.

"He welcomes us. He says that we must have come a long way."

Jack nodded.

"Be warned," Tristan continued to translate, "these waters give new life, they do not preserve that which you have. Be content with yourself and yourself alone. You cannot take anything or anyone with you."

"Ponce de Leon," Jack said with realization.

The Spanish speaking man smiled and nodded his head.

"It's been one hundred years at least," Jack said astounded. "Everyone thinks you're dead."

"He says that he came here for his wife. He wanted a child that he couldn't have. He regained his youth physically. Time no longer seemed to be of any consequence. His wife aged and he did not. He says that he has no children."

"Then why stay?" Jack thought aloud.

The native man waded forward. He was once to his neck in the water but now he began to exit it.

"He is the oldest among them," Tristan translated from Ponce de Leon. "One thousand years."

As the native man became more and more exposed, the more he aged. His skin shrivelled, his hair thinned, his eyes drooped. He extended his arm out towards Jack. The wrinkles spread and grew deeper, loosening the skin. In a matter of seconds that loose skin seemed to shrink right to the man's bones. His long fingernails seemed to grow as the skin around his fingers receded. Both Jack and Tristan cringed at the sight. The man continued to move, though his pace slowed as his exposed body began to ache and stiffen.

"Nothing to live for. No way to redeem a life of arrogance."

"Except by saving the lives of others. Save them from the waters that bring death," Jack added to Tristan's translation. "Clear your conscience and then embrace death."

The native man - the strain of his aged lungs causing him to wheeze - cupped the water in his hands and held it up to the captain.

"A single sip will restore you, but not forever. You will return. You will always return. Until you find Death."

Jack put his hand over the elder's fragile hands and covered the cupped water. The man smiled tiredly.

"We have a friend," Jack explained – Tristan translated. "He's wounded. He may not survive. Will this help him?"

Ponce de Leon translated to the elder. The elder raised his hand and called to one of his people. A man took hold of a clay bowl and dipped it gently into the water. Then he left the room from a back entrance.

"They're going to help," Tristan translated.

The elder smiled and began to wade further out of the pool. He took his last step completely out of the water. His eyes began to mist over. He pointed to the boy and spoke directly to the captain. Ponce de Leon translated for him and Tristan translated the Spanish once more.

"The only way to remain youthful. The only way to immortality."

The man's head became heavy. His skin flaked. One thousand years was quickly catching up with him. His stomach shrivelled to his ribs. His stance was uneasy. It looked as though he was trying to sit but unable to bend. Jack hesitantly offered to support the man but it was too late, he fell to the ground, his dusty bones cracked as they hit the stone floor.

Juan Ponce de Leon began to wade forward as well.

"Please," Jack pressed, holding his open palms in front of him, "don't get up."

Ponce de Leon laughed and continued forward. He did not change as he emerged from the waters. He walked passed Jack and the boy, turned and then waved them forward. He would lead them out. Jack and Tristan followed. As they could see daylight up ahead, Ponce de Leon stopped and put his hand on Tristan's shoulder. Tristan looked up at the man. He still looked the same except for some wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. He bent over and whispered into the boy's ear, what it was Jack couldn't hear.

Tristan was taken aback, "He says that he doesn't think we should leave empty handed."

Both he and Jack were very confused as to the conquistador's implication. Ponce de Leon could tell their apprehension and only laughed.