Alternative Ending - Chapter Thirteen: Yo-Ho

Amelia waited with relentless anticipation. She was uncontrollably anxious. She was worried about not seeing anyone emerge from the Florida brush, yet also worried about who she might see emerge first. Gibbs and Cotton had been good enough company. Gibbs was still reluctant to fully trust Amelia as far as handling the ship went, determined that her presence would bring bad luck despite her evidence for the contrary.

Cotton's parrot squawked and whistled. Amelia rushed to see. Sure enough, two figures came through. They were not who she was expecting. When Ragetti and Pintel got to the ship, Ameila and the remaining crew were ready with swords drawn.

"How dare you come back here!" Amelia shouted.

They approached cautiously with their arms up.

"Barbossa ain't come back?" Pintel asked.

"You separated from him?" Amelia asked with frustration. "Have you no loyalty at all to anyone but yourselves?"

"Look," Ragetti said, "there's the captain now."

Amelia turned to see how many she would have to fight off. She would not leave without her son and she would not let anyone overtake this ship while she was still alive to fight for it.

"It's alright, now," Pintel said trying to calm the woman.

When Amelia finally saw, she tried to restrain herself from jumping over and running towards them, knowing full well that they were coming to her. As they boarded, Amelia threw her arms around her son and kissed his head all over. She voiced her concerns in the usual motherly fashion and checked to make sure that he was alright. Jack laughed at the fuss that she was making over the condition of the boy. Then her attention turned towards the captain. She looked at him, afraid to hear the answer to the question she wanted to ask. Jack knew what that question was.

"No, love," he said to her.

"What do you mean, No?"

"I mean I didn't take it."

"But, Jack, your shot at immortality…"

Jack took hold of her, caressing her cheek. "We've already got that one taken care of, love," he said to her, gesturing his head towards their son.

Amelia smiled, took firm hold of the captain, and kissed him.

Mr. Gibbs and Mr. Cotton stood by quite deflated.

"Empty handed again, Captain?" Gibbs said disappointedly.

"I wouldn't say that," Jack said looking at Amelia.

The men all rolled their eyes.

Jack called to his son, "You've got a good hand at arithmetic, don't you there, son?"

Tristan nodded modestly.

"Good. Equal share now, the six of us," Jack said.

"But there's seven of us," Tristan argued.

"Between your mum and I, I think you're good," Jack laughed.

Tristan pulled the strap of the satchel over his head and opened it. He poured out the Spanish doubloons Ponce de Leon had rewarded them with. Gibbs fell to his knees when he saw the gold and silver sparkle. Tristan promptly began dividing the coins into four separate piles.

"I'm proud of you, Jack," Amelia whispered to him.

Jack smiled, kissed her, and said, "Now, was there ever reason to worry?"

"What of my father and the others?"

Jack thought back to how determined the Florida natives were to keep men from the deadly waters of the fountain. Chances are that Barbossa and his gang would have already been led down to the real aqua de vita by now if they hadn't managed to kill everyone in sight.

"We haven't seen the last of 'em," Jack said confidently. "Speaking of which –" Jack turned to his loyal followers and barked orders at them to weigh anchor and get this ship out to the ocean in all haste. He then turned to the woman whom he still had an arm around, "That means you too, Missy. No freeloaders on my ship."

Amelia smiled and hopped to work without hesitation.

Tristan had been busy sorting the coins when one in particular had caught his attention. It was not a Spanish coin at all. Its markings were very distinct but unlike anything the boy had ever seen before, even in illustration. The mystery of it had him captivated - that is, until Jack's orders began booming. Tristan perked up from the coins.

"What about me?" he asked eagerly.

Jack smiled. "You have a very important job," Jack said. "Where to, Master Sparrow?"

Tristan thought a moment, thinking of all the stories he had ever heard of far away places. "Bermuda?" he suggested hesitantly.

Jack laughed and took hold of the helm.

"Is that wrong?" Tristan asked, concerned that his suggestion was a poor one.

Jack freed his compass from his belt and tossed it over to the boy.

"You tell me, lad."

Tristan opened it and watched as the arrow spun. Finally it seemed to focus on a single direction.

"North-west, Captain," Tristan told him.

Jack smiled and directed the wheel accordingly. A warm breeze was in the air. The sails unfurled beautifully. Jack couldn't help but hum to himself as he watched the horizon. Drink up me hearties, yo-ho!

The End!