I'm sure nobody wants me to trawl through all of the movie's story that's left unchanged by my small alteration... For example, our lads still going to Tortuga and find themselves a crew.

My way around it is to write tiny sections of these events in, so we know where we are with the plot line.

These bits also happen to be my favourite bits, so we know that they will contribute to our enjoyment, as well as being a useful guide!

Also, the one thing I really want is for fiction to come with appropriate music.

Playlist: 'Maximus' from Gladiator.

3

I went to seek a road to fortune,
Thought I'd find a road to fortune
I joined a ship a' went a-sailin'
Bound away to Iceland cold
Found much ice but not much gold.

"When I was a lad living in England, my mother raised me by herself. After she died, I came out here, looking for my father." Will told him, a wary gleam in his eyes as he studied Jack, sharpening his sword.

"Is that so." Jack threw back at him, equally wary of giving too much away in one go.

"You told me I was a pirate. Why?"

The boy was ruddy perseverant, he'd hand that to him, at least.
Annoying little scallywag.
Why couldn't he just be brainless, like his father?

"'Lizabeth. She told me your name."
"And what does my name have to do with it?"
Jack didn't have to answer. After all, Will wasn't as stupid as his father.

"You're saying I'm a descendant." the whelp's voice hardened, "Of whom?"
"Whom d'you bloody think, Grace O'Malley? Captain ruddy Kidd? I knew 'cos of your name, son, you already know what you didn't want to believe."

Will stayed dangerously silent. Jack heaved a sigh, adjusting course slightly.
"I was probably one the few who knew him as William Turner. Everyone else just called him Bootstrap or Bootstrap Bill. Good man. Good pirate." he squinted at the boy with a grimace of regret, "I swear you look just like him."

Jack didn't even flinch at the scrape of unsheathed metal, as he turned back to the wheel.
"My father was not a pirate."
"Put it away, son." he warned gently.

After the bloody pointless kerfuffle was over and done with, Will had stopped dangling off the bowsprit and finally learned some sense, and Jack had (perhaps unwisely) given him back the sword, they set their heading eagerly for blessed Tortuga.
The thought of cheap rum made Jack's stomach tingle with pleasure.

"So." Will ventured after a good hour of silent sailing, except for the orders Jack barked, "I never had a chance to ask. Why are you so eager to follow the Pearl? What's in it for you?"
Jack laughed, a raucous, grating laugh that sounded hollow.
"That's two in two days what have asked me for me life story." he said sarcastically.
"Miss Swann asked you about yourself too? On her - visit?"
"Aye. I told you, she sneaks - snuck - down to the cells to hear the stories."

A genuine smile tugged at the corners of Jack's mouth, as he remembered her indignance when he'd challenged her intentions - knowing there was something more behind those pursed, pretensive lips, something still alive and kicking in the glimmer of her wicked gaze.
He could see all that poofed, curled, secured tawny hair flying free in wavelets, on the high breeze of the sea. He could see the steel in her eyes matching the steel of her sword, as she handled it in real battle for the first time.

If only she weren't such a blooming ponce. He could teach her to be something marvellous.

"Jack? The Pearl. Why are you following it?"
"Well, it's my flamin' ship, ain't it."
"What? You own that - that monster?"
"Eh. Don't be talking about my magnificent vessel in that ha-rather impolite tone of your's." Jack protested, frowning, "She's my ship. Someone stole her from me, tha's'all. And now I'm finally en route to getting her back."

He would have loved to mention the sheer amount of time it had been since he'd last been the real captain, but didn't dare - in case the whelp caught on that Jack now had something to barter with that he hadn't had before.

"What about Miss Swann?" Will enquired quietly.
"Eh?"
"Well, do you intend to rescue her? Even if it doesn't fit in with your plans?"
"Are you asking me if I am a noble and morally upright h'individual?" Jack asked, with a hint of amusement in his voice.
"I'm asking, is she important enough to you that she'll return home safely?"
"Gosh, mate. Anyone would think you was in love with the wench, the way you go on."
"It's nothing like that." he came back, "But I owe her and her father a good deal of favours. Aside from the fact that I am a noble and morally upright individual."

Jack turned to grin widely at him. Now the whelp was getting it.
"Hows about I concentrate on all those things that need doing for what's right by me, and you can concentrate on covering everyone else's backs. Including mine. And the wench's, if you so choose."
"Why would I want to cover your dirty hide?"
"Because. I'm charming."

They smirked at one another for a moment.
Jack felt from the bottom of his - admittedly very shallow - heart, that they were finally beginning to bond.

"Jack. I know it's not probable, but - I want to know. Is there any chance of finding my father out here? Is he?..." Will trailed off, not wanting to ask the next part.
Jack looked down at his feet, and chewed his lip for a second.
The last he had heard of Bootstrap, he was at the bottom of the ocean. Undead, dead, he didn't know what.
Apparently there was a curse. He'd seen proof of it last night.

Who knew anything, when it came to pirates and those strange wonders of the free ocean.
But, in all likeliness, Bootstrap was not returning from any form of death or undeath soon.

"Haven't heard from him in years." he admitted, more truthfully than he cared to let on, "Who knows, mate. If you look hard enough maybe you'll come across him. If you don't look hard enough... maybe Fate will do it for you."
"You believe in fate?"

Jack sighed. What would it take to shut this lad up?

"I told you, don't ask me stupid ruddy questions!"

Elizabeth cowered in the mess, cowered in the red velvet gown she'd almost felt good in, before - before all this.

Skeleton pirates. Undead - bloody - pirates.

She'd thought she was terrified as they'd set sail from Port Royal. When she suspected Barbossa had poisoned her. When she'd had to stab him with her dining knife.

Now she was beyond terror.
She suspected it was the force of the shock that made her emotionally unresponsive to all thoughts and issues running through her mind.

There was nothing to be done. No way out, no fair killing, no fair fight.

And they still hadn't raped or murdered her, despite the scare they had given her.
They must need her for something. It was the only explanation.

'Maximus'.

Jack Sparrow. Captain Jack Sparrow, if you aren't on your way to get me with the whole Royal Navy and my father at your back, you'll have a lot to answer for.
I'll kill you myself, if I ever get away from here alive.

God, I hope you know these brutes well enough to know where they're headed.
I don't. I don't even know where I am.

She put her head in her hands and finally started to weep.
It almost annoyed her that she had overcome her numbness the moment she had thought of him.
Like he was some trigger for her deeper-rooted emotions, or some other idiot thing.
In fact, it was probably the incredibly tiny hope of rescue that had set her off.

Of course that was it.
"Snap out of it." she told herself indignantly, and brushed away the tears.

She was going to have to be strong. And patient.

Have you ever thought about it? The wide, open sea?

She snorted derisively to herself. Well, here she was. And it was awful.

Ever sailed to impossible places what nobody else could find? Beyond the edges of a map?

Oh, Jack.

He had made it sound so enchanting. The truth was, off the edges of the map was a black, cold world with monsters at every turn.

Beyond the edges of the map, ghost stories lurked, and whispered.