Daniel glanced around the workshop, spotted a length of rope hanging from a peg, and picked it up. Without wasting time, he crouched and began tying Will's hands and feet.
Jack watched him for a moment, brow furrowing.
"Mate," Jack said slowly, "why are you tying him up? Couldn't we just leave him here and be on our way?"
"We could," Daniel replied, tightening the knot. "But this one's useful."
Jack tilted his head. "Useful how?"
Daniel finished tying Will securely and stood. "His name is Will Turner."
Jack froze.
"…Turner," he repeated quietly.
Something shifted behind his eyes. He crouched slightly, studying Will's unconscious face more carefully now—the jaw, the features, the stubborn set even in sleep.
"Oh," Jack said slowly. "That Turner."
He straightened, memory clicking into place. "Bootstrap Bill Turner," he murmured.
Jack's gaze drifted, unbidden, to the image burned into his memory—the Aztec gold coin he'd seen around the Governor's daughter's neck earlier.
Gold that never should have been hers.
As the former captain of the Black Pearl, Jack knew the treasure of Isla de Muerta better than anyone. He recognized Aztec gold the moment he saw it. After all, he had been the one who led the Pearl to it in the first place.
That coin didn't belong in Port Royal.
And it certainly didn't belong around the Governor's daughter's neck.
Now, looking at the unconscious young man on the floor, the pieces finally lined up.
The son of his old crewmate… here of all places.
That explained more than Jack liked.
Jack looked down at Will again, realization settling in fully.
"…Well," he said, a crooked smile slowly forming, "doesn't that explain a few things."
He nudged Will lightly with the toe of his boot. "You've got your father's face, lad. Shame you inherited his timing."
Jack straightened and turned to Daniel, his earlier casual interest replaced with something sharper.
"Mate," he said, nodding toward the rope, "tie him properly. We're going to need him."
Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Thought you wanted to leave."
Jack grinned. "Plans change."
And for Jack Sparrow, they always did—especially when cursed gold and unfinished business were involved.
"So," Daniel said, extending his hand, "we have cooperation?"
Jack looked at the offered hand for a second longer than necessary. His eyes flicked from Daniel's face… to the bound Will on the floor… and back again.
Then he smiled.
"Oh, we do," Jack said, clasping Daniel's hand firmly.
Jack straightened, already picturing it—the Pearl beneath his feet again, Barbossa paying for every betrayal, and fate finally tipping back in his favor.
And now?
Now he had help.
Strong help.
Dangerous help.
Jack released Daniel's hand and adjusted his coat, the familiar confidence settling back into his posture.
"Mate," Jack added, "this is shaping up to be a very profitable partnership."
For the first time in a long while, Captain Jack Sparrow felt the wind shift in his favor.
And he intended to ride it all the way back to the Black Pearl.
***
At the same time, far out on the open sea, a ghostly ship cut silently through the water.
The Black Pearl.
Its black sails were torn and weathered, its hull darkened by age and something far worse than rot.
On its deck stood the cursed crew.
Men who no longer felt hunger.
No longer felt pain.
No longer truly lived.
Bound by the Aztec gold.
They had spent years searching—raiding ports, interrogating sailors, following whispers and rumors—hunting the last missing piece of the treasure.
Now, at last, they had found it.
The final coin.
And with it, the final blood.
The Pearl turned toward Port Royal, its course set with grim certainty.
Soon, the curse would be broken.
***
Night settled over Port Royal.
In the Governor's house, Elizabeth's bedroom was quiet as a maid finished preparing everything for her to sleep. Curtains were drawn, lamps dimmed, and fresh linens arranged with practiced care.
"You should try to rest, miss," the maid said gently. "It's been a long day. A lot of strange things happened."
Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed, absently nodding.
Strange was an understatement.
In the morning, a stranger had quite literally fallen through her roof—into her bath, of all places. By afternoon, she had collapsed at the fort, fallen into the sea, and been saved by that very same man.
And before anyone could properly question him, he had vanished, slipping through the soldiers' grasp as if he had never been there at all.
Even now, the city guards were still searching.
"Yes," Elizabeth said quietly. "It has been… a very strange day."
The maid smiled politely, finished her work, and gave a small bow. "Sleep well, miss."
After the maid left, Elizabeth lay back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling.
Who is he, anyway? she wondered.
Nothing about him made sense. His clothes didn't resemble anything she had ever seen—neither noble nor common, neither sailor nor pirate. And when she had slapped him at the docks, the impact had felt strangely wrong, like striking steel instead of flesh.
The memory unsettled her.
Curiosity stirred despite herself.
At the same time, a quiet sense of relief settled in her chest. The chaos of the day had conveniently disrupted Norrington's proposal. For once, she hadn't been forced to smile politely and nod.
She didn't hate the Commodore—but she didn't see him that way either.
Elizabeth turned onto her side and pulled the covers closer, finally closing her eyes and letting exhaustion take over.
In the docks, a ship slowly emerged from the mist.
The Black Pearl.
Cannons shifted on their mounts as the ship angled toward Port Royal. The fog curling around its sides like a shroud.
On the deck, skeletal hands gripped the railing as a familiar figure stepped forward.
"Go," Barbossa ordered calmly. "Bring me the gold."
His eyes gleamed faintly in the moonlight.
"And bring me the one carrying it."
The Pearl continued its silent approach.
Port Royal slept on—unaware that the night had just turned against it.
*****
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