"Captain, if you don't mind," one pirate began nervously, not quite meeting Jack's eyes, "my mother wrote to me. She's… uh… taken ill. Still in bed. Terrible business. I should really be there to take care of her."
Jack blinked. "Your mother?"
"Yes, Captain. Very sick. Could pass any day now. Tragic, really."
Another pirate immediately stepped forward. "And my cousin's expecting a child. Any day now. Needs support. Family duty."
"Aye," a third added quickly. "And I've developed a… condition. Sea air makes it worse. Doctor's orders."
The excuses piled up faster than a mutiny—ailing relatives, sudden religious awakenings, old promises to settle down somewhere far away from cursed captains and hungry sea monsters.
Pirates were a superstitious lot. To them, the Black Spot was the worst omen imaginable—the mark of death itself.
Any man who carried it was already as good as dead, and anyone foolish enough to sail alongside him was believed to share the same fate.
Gibbs closed his eyes and sighed. This was exactly what he'd expected.
Jack listened to it all with a thoughtful expression, nodding as if each excuse carried genuine weight. Then he raised a hand.
"My fellow pirates," he said calmly, swaying a little as he walked, "there's really no need to worry."
A few hopeful faces looked up.
Jack's grin widened.
"Why fear an overgrown octopus," he continued, sweeping an arm dramatically across the beach, "when you've got something far more dangerous aboard?"
He jabbed a finger toward Daniel, who stood a short distance away, arms folded, watching the spectacle like it was mild entertainment.
The crew followed Jack's gesture.
Several pirates froze.
One of them swallowed hard. Another crossed himself again—just in case.
Daniel lifted a brow. "Am I supposed to be flattered?"
Jack smiled brightly. "Extremely."
The excuses died on the pirates' lips. Suddenly, facing the Kraken didn't seem quite as bad as abandoning ship and offending whatever that was.
Gibbs muttered under his breath, "Well… that's one way to inspire loyalty."
No one volunteered to leave after that.
Jack clapped his hands together, brightening instantly.
"Excellent. Splendid show of faith," he said. "Then, my lovely pirates—release the sails. Let us return to the sea."
With reluctant groans and hurried movements, the crew went to work, lines were cast off, and the Black Pearl slid back into the water, her dark hull cutting through the waves as if she'd never left them.
***
Jack kept one hand on the wheel, eyes forward, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. "So," he asked casually, "what's the plan, mate?"
It wasn't curiosity—it was survival. He wanted to know exactly how Daniel intended to deal with Davy Jones, the Black Spot on his hand, and the inevitable sea monster waiting to collect him.
"Nothing complicated," Daniel said. "We return to Port Royal to pick someone up."
Because of that summoning mess, he'd left Port Royal without warning. Now he needed to go back and pick them up.
Jack's mouth curved into a sly smile. "Ah," he said knowingly. "So it's you and Elizabeth."
"Yes," Daniel replied. "And there's one more."
Jack's brows lifted. "Woman or a man?"
"Woman."
Jack chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. "You really are worthy of my friendship. I was much the same in my travels—women simply couldn't get enough of me."
Daniel gave him a calm, unimpressed look. "Oh, I know."
Jack straightened, preening slightly.
"They're so fond of you," Daniel continued, "they usually greet you by smacking you."
Jack winced. "That's… affection. Passionate affection."
"Very passionate," Daniel agreed.
"And there's another… passionate soul waiting for you in Port Royal," Daniel added casually.
Jack blinked. "Oh?" He frowned. "I don't recall owing anyone there. Recently, at least."
"It's Beckett," Daniel said. "He's very keen on the idea of a rope. Preferably around your neck."
Jack went still for a second, then let out a dry laugh. "Of course it is."
He shook his head, staring out at the sea. "Seems my luck's taken a turn. Kraken behind me, Beckett ahead of me—every unfriendly acquaintance lining up for a chance at my head."
More than with anyone else, Jack's enmity with Beckett went back a long way.
After a brief stretch of silence, Jack finally spoke, eyes fixed on the horizon.
"So," he said, glancing sideways at Daniel, "you want to find the Fountain of Youth." He let out a short laugh. "Strange goal for someone who doesn't look a day over thirty—and who doesn't seem particularly killable."
Even Jack knew the Fountain only as a legend whispered among pirates: a myth sailors chased and died for. No charts marked its location. No compass pointed the way.
At best, there were rumors—fragments of stories passed from one pirate lord to another.
There was, however, one exception.
The Mao Kun Map.
A map said to chart not just the seas, but the paths between them. A map that revealed places no ordinary chart could show—visible only to those who knew how to read its secrets.
And that map was in the possession of Sao Feng, the Pirate Lord of Singapore.
Daniel didn't look impressed by any of it.
"It's not for immortality," he said calmly. "I already have that."
Jack nodded once, as if that explained everything.
"Of course you do," he replied dryly.
He didn't ask how. With Daniel, such questions tended to lead to answers Jack wasn't sure he wanted to hear.
*****
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