“With the Black Pearl and a stormy sea as their backdrop, they fight with fear and determination in a dangerous battle for treasure.”
Watch the original version of Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl
On a dark and ominous night, under the light of the full moon, a group of pirates ventured to the Isle de Muerta, a cursed island known for holding the lost treasure of Cortés. Among them stood Captain Jack Sparrow, who had come seeking not the riches of gold, but the freedom of his ship, the Black Pearl.
Driving deep into the heart of the treacherous island, they found the cave, which housed the cursed chest of treasure. Barbossa, the captain of the mutinous crew, tore the chest open, revealing the Aztec gold coins to the night sky. The cursed pieces soon reached the hands of all, turning their bodies into mindless, undead creatures.
But Barbossa feared no curse, for he believed he had beaten it. And so, he sent the Black Pearl and every loyal member of his crew to the bottom of the sea, trapping the rest to roam the earth as undead abominations.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, but cursed or not, the desire for the stolen quarter never deserted any man who ever set foot on that doomed island.
The sea was calm in the Caribbean as the sun set on the small town of Port Royal. Like most nights, the Barbados had ceased its singing, and townsfolk had retreated indoors for the night.
At the doors of the local tavern, stood Captain Jack Sparrow, the notorious pirate with cheekbones as sharp as his wit. He wandered the harbor aimlessly, brooding over his most terrible, plaguing concern – how he was going to settle some of his worsening debts. No ship belonged to him, and Sparrow had few friends. No matter the case, every pirate had one, and he believed his own had sailed into port.
Sipping from a glass of caribbeer, Jack leaned against the old wooden building, his one good eye scanning the streets with disinterest. Bar minors had continued to spar over old rumors of cursed treasure, and as always, kept a disdainful eye on the swaying populace. Captain Jack’s cobalt blue coat had two worn edges, barely embroidered patches deserts revenged monkeys sitting atop three feet of six-inch pants, bridged to a blend of neat briar boots slick to fashion his flamboyant taste.
Completely preoccupied, despite the ageless story dealing with him broken behind wooden doors, restrained from charging waves above, Sparrow took another swig of caribbeer before replacing the cup loudly onto the bar’s top. Catching the eye of the bartender with a serious expression, Jack demanded “Barbossa, show me Barbossa.”
“Would ya look at the she-bitch ‘bove us!’ The bartender blurred out foolishly while washing a mug rudely. Jack’s swift movements gracefully extend past the bottle of rum situated next to him before laying it on his wooden palm. Before long, as no retort was given, Jack’s gentle apology runs the question: “I apologize if Spanish bloodshed was severely coming with an outcome where they see pirates at every rise and fall of the black flag,”
The bartender snorted with disdain, grumbled under his breath and dryly motioned to seats. Jack Sliding down onto empty chairs eagerly started picking leftover pizza crust from a nearby bench.
During this inconsequential interaction, Jack maintains their mutual stare. Jack shuffled the small amber bottle under the table with his educated subservience becoming a comforting gesture of good faith. It was said in Jack that cracking firelight conducted magical incidents while looking at the small lighted areas between wide-reaching banquets.
Confirming Jack is rudely teasing his makeshift partner with rather subdued quackery.
Every Pirate was on the lookout for Hector Barbossa, the notorious captain of the equally famous pirate vessel, the Black Pearl. No ordinary pirate, whispers through Port Royal had him dealing with unearthly occurrences, with some rumors claiming a pact with the devil.
The Black Pearl delivered treasures unmatched by the wealthiest in the world, and Barbossa would always leave victims alive just long enough to tell the harrowing tale. Her ship had been declared lost in battle in the sea years earlier, but word of her sightings fanned flames of intrigue, week-after-week.
Scuffs of dirt and hoarse boot-steps sounded behind him unmistakably signaling more undesirables joining their discussion.
“So think you’re gonna find the Perl?” The voice following managed to choke out with a certain detached croak delivered promptly. At this commentarian goal, Jack positions his mug continuously by examining it intentionally.
“Naturally,” came the quick-witted reply. “I was so dejected at the news that she recently burned and sank, occupied the Gulf of Honduras four days ride to the east. I’m presently on an evasive route trying to offset that nastiness.”
“At least ye can pad yourself with balls,” added a grabby voice to the converted attention of more who had wandered up quickly after taking interest in their discussion. One had a feather in his long unkempt cap, the stick helped stay off the strings. Another had acquired multiple septum piercings through his nostrils and wore billowy pants maybe guaranteed for his arduous exercise routine.
Jack raised an eyebrow, estimating the unfamiliar regalia, confirming earlier suspicions they had since expressed a mutually feel good sensation about his deliberate humorous gestures. Pouring himself more caribbeer, he allowed the cooling satisfaction the refreshing liquid held.
“Where’d ye hear we hadda bolts?” one starting midriff and clapping their neck in stage acknowledgment. Having anticipated these fools would shuffle then show him to White Cap Bay or lead him any well up the coastline toward George’s Point, pushed on regarding; “borrow me your ears as your wry-squiff world, country sir,” before raising the tankard of frosty pina colada to celebrate.
Ten times my brainwaves have asked the question with dry bones like the five-finger beggar searching London stone night bringing clacks still knitting in The-Apothe-car-yes-la-near,” he said it all quickly, cutting off his smitten additions when no one leaned closer to hear.
His friend John underhanded him shots down the bar, communicating once again what most there were already thinking. Mouth gaping, they all decided it was time to bale on this miraculous man despite the non-committal “hey.”
The wood staircase keeping people from wandering to and fro sprung hectic pounding behind Whirlpool blurrily enacted something between amusement satisfaction and peaceful reflection held deeply concerning matters at hand. Dipping the elongated twirly blonde hairs flush into the dregs of lukewarm swamp ale gulped on yet never including swallowing.
Various comments drifted unquestioned in the spare hazy treetops exteriorly holding reservations stretched out over previously troubled gums cresting inland. Predictably, drunken yells outsmarting dark skies rejoicing among the well-feeding fleet betokened easy leave.
Taking the bottle and walking out onto the Boardwalk, Captain Jack Sparrow made his decision that he would find the Black Pearl and finally take down Barbossa. He didn’t need anyone to help him, he just needed a ship, a crew, and he needed to wait for the perfect moment. And so, he set off into the moonlit night, heading towards the looming darkness of brotherhood and adventure on the furious foam.
Chapter 2: The Black Pearl
The Black Pearl loomed on the horizon like a shadow, its sleek sails billowing in the wind. Jack’s heart leaped in his chest; he never thought he’d see the likes of that ship again.
He’d heard rumors that the Pearl had taken on a new captain – one even more fearsome than Barbossa. Jack chuckled to himself, wondering if any pirate could be more terrifying than Barbossa. But then again, Jack had always been one for facing down his fears.
The members of Jack’s crew seemed more apprehensive than he did. They mumbled amongst themselves, eyeing the Black Pearl like it was a ghost come back to haunt them.
Jack cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow, regarding his crew with a disdainful look. “What’s wrong lads? You afraid of a little ship?”
One of the crewmen, a skinny man with a patch eye, snorted. “That’s not just any ship, Cap’n. That’s the Black Pearl.”
Jack smirked. “Well aware of that, mate. But we didn’t come all this way for nothing, did we?”
The crew grudgingly agreed, though Jack could sense they were still nervous. He had to admit, even he felt a slight unease looking at the Pearl again. That ship had a dark history that followed it like a curse.
But Jack had his own curse to demystify; he had spent too long out of the limelight, in his opinion. And what better way to earn some notoriety than by stealing the Pearl out from under their current captain’s nose?
The wind picked up, pulling at Jack’s dreadlocks and causing the Pearl to draw even closer. Jack shifted his hat, adjusting his compass in his coat pocket before squaring his shoulders.
“All right then, lads. Here’s what we’ll do…”
It took several long nights to plot out their invasion plan. Jack liked to put himself in the shoes of his enemy and devise a plan they would never see coming. He wanted Barbossa (or whoever was captaining the Pearl) to know what hit them.
Finally, the big day arrived. The crew members were jittery throughout the morning, which annoyed Jack to no end. He needed an organized crew who could hold their own in battle. If they couldn’t do that, they were of no use to him.
As the sun began to dip beneath the horizon, Jack and his crew rigged up their own vessel to appear disabled. They practiced their groans of pain and cries for rescue, just in case anyone decided to fly in closer to see if they could be of aid.
Sure enough, as the stars began to dot the sky, lights appeared in the distance. The proud Black Pearl was headed their way.
Jack smirked, his eyes roving across his waiting crew. Hopefully, they were on their toes this night. Lord knows, Treachery and Greed pounded against the silence drifting over the seas.
As the lights grew closer and they were able to make out the silhouette of the ship in the dark, Jack quietly led his men behind some rocks. Zazzoe, the biggest and strongest of the lot, managed to hush every one of them.
They watched as the Pearl sailed past looming out of the water like Leviathan prepared to lick death over their crimson skull.
Chapter 3: Kidnapping
Elizabeth woke up to darkness and the sound of creaking wood. Her head throbbed, and she gagged on the taste of seawater in her mouth. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she realized that she was below deck, on a ship. Panic set in as she frantically tried to remember how she got there.
Her memories eventually came back to her. She had been admiring the sunset from her balcony when she heard a noise outside her room. She peeked out, only to see two men breaking in. Before she could call for help, they dragged her outside, across the gardens, and to the ship—a ship that was far from any of those moored at Port Royal. She screamed and lashed out, but it was no use. When she saw the build of the ship, the tattered black flag flapping in the breeze above her head, the pirate crew swarming around her, she realized that she had been kidnapped.
Elizabeth felt like crying, an instinct laden with all of her frustration and horror, but she refused to give the pirates the satisfaction of her tears. So, she steeled herself, closed her eyes and willed herself to be brave, to think, and to look for any sign that could turn her situation to her advantage. She listened intently, trying to identify the language spoken, to narrow down the places where they could have taken her, but every time they found a locked door, disembodied words in half-uttered, gutteral codes were exchanged among the various crew members, who moved with skill and ease about the deck.
After what felt like an eternity, the noise subsided, and Elizabeth knew she was alone below deck. Her hands were bound, closely to a thick wooden paddle at her back, making any movement impossible, but other than that, there seemed to be no pressing danger. Quietly and patiently, she fought against the ropes at her wrists, trying to find any chance to slip her hands out from under them.
Yet her surroundings were everything her house in Port Royal was not. There was no windows or distinguishable doors in view despite the open air right above her position. The heat, the close feeling of containment and the yawns of unknown motions underneath made her wonder whether they were still close to Port Royal. Had she fainted for too long, allowing the distance to grow exponentially between her captain and her family’s colony? Had she been handed to other pirates to learn her fate and negotiate her worth with some vile master?
It was only when she finally heard the weighty thump of an entrance-way above her position opening that she quieted to attention again. Footsteps sound from above, the groan of something big and heavy being hustled until footsteps once more began – and them muffled as they approached the hatch itself. Ahead awaited terrifying confrontations, possibly with Barbossa himself, if she could only be released by the grace of the pirate captain.
Light streamed down into her cramped quarters until she was blinking to prepare her vision to the light outside of her room. Two huge men came down the ladder, one’s hook for a hand glittering even in mysterious dimness while the inky silhouette cast upon the wall by the grate clad himself was possessed of a long cutlass suited for unspeakably gruesome combat. Elizabeth shuddered as they fixed her with their most cold and vicious expressions—They’ve seen that and more. Elizabeth clenched into a ball, with a burst of frustration that comes from impotence and submission—the rage at the injustice- cursing the day when they crossed paths with the daughter of the Iron Commodore.
She tries to stand firm in front of the two ruffian men, but even pride has its limits when hit by pure hostility: facing the two towering and morose characters in such an insolent and defiant way, she should have been rightfully a slob knock-out by nameless hit never delivered. Even her loathing of Barbossa, an aftershock the unfazed anxiety and pain inspired, could do close to nothing after foretasting the taste of loneliness on this winding piece of black rope.
“Sorry lassie” The quieter one would have been tall for a sailor all things considered, his large frame making smartwork of getting her undone from her fastenings while the other made his judgments behind but stood close. His words stark, enough to be jarring when the chains around her pallet finally hit the ground with a clang, “But I need these chain, there are savage men here some hundreds of leagues ahead—don’t want to find ourselves compromising half way ”
She wondered if any savage would’ve been as cold-blooded a farce as the hulking man who fashioned himself a cutlass poised over her from above.
A spare swordprotruded cruelly from a lather scabbard by the bed. It must’ve originated from a hopeful breacher who desperately wanted to attempt for his own freedom but has unluckily received little to no chance to challenge for it. Neither of them touched the lethal tool before half-buried it conveniently under propped open crates. The two villains clutched her forearms with their enormous and filthy palms, dragging her soul out in the fresh air, leading their shining prize to a witchery her humanity forced her to traverse on this woven tunnel inside the edges of her so-called liberty in vain.
“Welcome aboard, Elizabeth Swann” The smoke-codged glint in Barbossa’s eyes sends brown eyebrow into a furrow, his intensely focused on her. “ I’m confident that you’ll find your stay aboard the Pearl nothing short of unforgettable. With a smile hinting at menace, his voice was smooth like the rub Of a luxury scent, knowing he held her fate in his hand. “ I’m eager to hear just how your rich and powerful father deals in exchange for his dear daughter.”
His threat, released as carelessly as breath, sent chills up Elizabeth’s spine. But she met his eyes levelly, taking a deep breath of salty sea air and naming her courage— what else could possibly remained-, strengthened by everything, with thin hope of rescue blooming despite the lackluster of her night for redemption, despite her here-and-now state of extreme vulnerability. She feels under the weight of his authority, she can only hope in the allies that would potentially trade comfort to save her, and decides to speak out against the Captain’s audacious apparent designation.
“You won’t get anything from him if you lay a finger on me” Elizabeth grows softer, trying to slide the stitches of hope through the holes of chance, navigating his anger by keeping soft, feign otherness than resistance, long enough to approach the jailbreak ideal, or a potential scuff between new and competing ship of cruel men. Barbossa laughslong before Elizabeth finishes. His role as negotiator between comrade and captive serves its claim, demanding immense reserves of trust and treachery over the years of evading authorities.
“Oh sweetheart,” he sneers, exhaling foul breath over her face,” we have all the fingers already. Besides, the pearl is a hungry boat and sacrifice is what fuels her. So, clever one, you have land to negotiate from, wish your addled father well in lieu of a swift response, will you? ”For one moment, Elizabeth winces under his offense, thinking furiously on methods of acquiring leverage or bartering her way to freedom.
But then duty calls with what little of her yet dictates this fight, railing the crushing weight of acceptance then uncertainty over her future in combat against the white light of faith- doubtful, Yes but ever-remaining hope. Unknowingly, she evaluates options with a uniquely endearing defiance, the Iron Communist’s finger branded plot by determination allows for her unfitness alongside these dangerous menless surely than fury would.
“I will appease no such vessel and resign any false assumptions upon holding me…Pirates truly do have quick tongues but unfortunately, aside from this whip, you fall quite short in specific talks over your plots and scheme others for whimsy of experience. We await flames or forgiveness Bishop elsewhere, so whatever c̶u̶n̶n̶i̶n̶g̶ intricate farce-Barbosa, these things happen-,you’re trying to pull off comes in half-baked; I implore you to reconsider” Silhouette figure ready with a sword carries a broader arc than any statement.
With a final, biting remark— great minds employ extreme measures-Elizabeth sharpens the blade without taking the hands smirking alongside the unlikely performer just a moment ago off of her, daring it to inevitably change repute within some long chain before showdown comes those who are deserving.
Chapter 4: Island Adventure
The crew sailed towards the island with a calm breeze. The hot sun shone down, piercing through their skin. Sparrow was standing at the helm, looking out towards the distant island, his head tilted up towards the sky. A flock of seagulls circled above them, screeching as they flew around the ship. It was a beautiful day to be sailing, but Sparrow felt several pairs of eyes watching him from behind.
“What is it?” he asked without looking back.
Will, Gibbs, and Elizabeth were standing close together, whispering something that he couldn’t hear. Gibbs was the first to speak up.
“Well, Captain, we just thought that maybe it’s time we talk about that… thing on your arm.”
Sparrow glanced down at his wrist to the dried and faded tattoo of a sparrow. It was the mark of his betrayal and proved an incrimination for which he had already served punishment.
“Ah yes,” he chuckled, “that. It’s all old news, my friends. I’m trying to forget all about it.”
“Seems to me like you’re trying a bit too hard,” Elizabeth said with a smile.
Sparrow shrugged. “Some things are best left forgotten.”
The day on the sea was calming and peaceful which made the crew cautious. They knew every peaceful moment followed a storm that would soar on stronger winds than before. Everyone remained watchful, expecting the worst.
The island’s cliffs rose up out of the ocean like it was shielding a secret, and the Palmy Beach they saw before the ship quietly coasted along the shoreline was perfect. Gibbs shouted out to lower a dinghy into the water, and the sailors obeyed. Elizabeth stepped into the boat first, and Sparrow helped Will lower her carefully overboard. As he turned back to catch the dinghy’s ropes and tie them up, he shivered – he could feel something familiar, almost like he had finished this task before.
“Good luck out there in the sand, folks,” Gibbs waved them off from the ship as it drifts away, “And remember the Code!”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, and Will just stared incredulously. “The Code,” Will repeated after several awkward seconds passed. “Make way as the tide ebbs.”
Sparrow looked into his young face with enchantment. “He knows the Code.”
They looked around them with probing eyes as they started to proceed towards the forest in the center of the island, and the sense of apprehension returned. For them, it was a strange place to be, and they had to be careful not to touch strange things if they wanted to emerge unscathed. The forest was a surprise: fiery flowers lit up stony caves, rainbow-colored birds cawed in massive flocks, and enormous vultures kept watch from cloth-tiered eyrie’s. Will couldn’t believe the lush greenery, the not-so-dense underbrush with tall trees that daren’t disturb the pathway.
Elizabeth leaned in closer to Sparrow, suddenly very aware of how isolated they were. “What is even out here?” she asked hushedly.
“Achievement is its name, dear Miss Swann,” replied Sparrow wide-eyed, “It is said to be where Tongan men lay claim on their shining moment.”
“I don’t see anyone to claim anything,” said Will watching the pattern that Sapphires and Diamondcrests made trough the sky, squealing like song pipes through the whole island.
“There are supposed to be other inhabitants here too besides the flora and the fauna,” Sparrow continued with remorse.
Elizabeth grasped onto Will’s arm tightly as they passed what looked like a grave in the middle of the forest. The roots of the trees tangles around open coffins erupting from the ground while seeds had been knitted on the tarp lain over.
“I’m getting goosebumps,” Elizabeth expressed shakily.
Sparrow put a firm hand on her shoulder. “I think we are definitely in the right place.”
The thought of navigation filled them, and Sparrow always being alert – suddenly shouted,“Uutai approaching,” skulking in the was the dangerous figure of the legendary and outcast Tongan ghost hunter known as Uutai emerged.
“Jack!” Gibbs had returned from the ship, “When you said other inhabitants, I thought you meant friendly ones!”
“Gibbs, It’s said ne’er again!” Jack glared viciously, and Gibbs retreated a few paces. Uutai’s presence pretty much confirmed that the island, though unspoiled, came with potential danger.
Will puzzledly looked up towering eucalyptus that sheltered the path. “What exactly exactly are we meeting?”
The mist that could only grow foamy herbs scattered amidst eucalyptus gave usher as yet another native appeared. Uutai was now close enough for Sparrow and Gibbs to recognize it: a rough, wild beast bearing a javelin made from bone, dressed in hide of reptilian animals.
“Pirates,” Uutai rasped harshly, aiming his weapon at them, a chilling thoroughness packed in the imprecision of their speckled gold teeth. “This be a dang’rous island. Leave now, stop viben’ us dead.”
Will, Elizabeth, Gibbs and Jack were rooting down – gaurding, with remarkable bravery – Soria, a woman dressed in heavily reconstructed sugar-pnglish dresses and her female guard with glinting arch ideas stepping forward. “Excuse us kindly — it’s just that this terrible experience alone is surpassing awful. We seek asylum.”
The woman’s distinct accent caused everyone to studying her closely, eyes fixating naturally on the tiny tattoos punctured into the weakest layer of skin in the spaces beneath the fingers.
“You’re English,” Elizabeth’s eyebrows creased as she squinted at the other woman. “What are you doing here?”
Another native figure emerged from behind them, shouldering something heavily like stumbling through thrush which shakily unraveled into steps.
The newcomer was a voice in hesitant Chinese. “Are you alright Kyung-Min That Crown’?”, it asked warily, words skipping over the consonants. Kyung-Min was grateful to see another wightly person again, to feel the earth trembling with the conversation. For years she was forced to speak in Tongan, an inadequacy that had become terrible within her. It no longer cost her psychic effort to get the vowel mutation right, or to try interpreting sounds patiently.
“Perfectly fine, thank you,” Kyung-Min obediently played out her part. They must preserve every advantage.
“If that is English,” decided Uutai voraciously, talking pointedly to the boat-divulge thieves, “Sucks we wasted all our arrows ere ya’ll harty mischitics arrived.”
“Ludwig!” Soria grinned as she spoke, and the newcomers gathered around him protecting the treasures he held. “Worry not, slow down the arrow shoots a few occasions more for firework-wonder,” she instructed empathically.
“Kyung-Min?” Sparrow implored her in due admiration shortly as he introduced her to his team.
The team from Port Royal now numbered five: Sparrow, Gibbs, Elizabeth, Will, Kyung-Min They had no idea what this place was or what they were up against, but they had the courage to face it head-on. Security seemed non-existent, but they had an unforgettable onslaught coming for sure, and the knowledge made the backs of their hands damp.
Chapter 5: Fighting for Survival
Sparrow’s crew scrambled to fight off the undead pirates of the Black Pearl. The cursed creatures were relentless, with thick black ropes binding the team. The growing conflict limited their already distant chances of success.
Sparrow had never been afraid of mythical enemy sailors, so he thought he would intuitively find a way to conquer the Specters of the Seas. He picked up his sword and charged towards the leading enemy, who wore a captain’s hat akin to his.
“Time to pay the piper, mate!” shouted Sparrow as he thrust his sword forward.
His attempt fell short as his blade passed through Barbossa’s torso, leaving his opponent no response.
Barbossa repaid the former pirate in kind. He delivered a blow, sending Sparrow flying back, his zany mannerism absent. A sudden seriousness covered his face as he watched the full scale of the enemy build to a crescendo.
The rest of Sparrow’s men fought fiercely, but their attacks also found no purchase. Everything they aimed became an obstacle in their reach. If they died, their souls would be unwilling to abandon their undead fate.
Their reward would be the responsibility to guard the Aztec gold in perpetuity. And with this prize, the pirates would netacularly transcend from their after-death dam around recondite secrets.
As if by Fate, Will found himself becoming captor to Elizabeth, supporting, gifting arm extending to any possibility or concrete efficacy to overturn the effrontery that bound their love story.
“The longer we carry on like this, the more likely those creatures will pick us apart,” Sparrow reasoned with Will against the barricade, instead concocting an inspiring strategy. “Let’s say Antara malformed our compass, anyone of you fell each keystorm scattered, what is certain that anyone rat calls the colors the entirety of the eerie sixteenth addition doomed.”
Breaking bonds, the iron chest regained his concrescency. Behind him appeared to outline an embittered aura, casting lowly maledictions. He shared the pathway silence of vow then could see very confidently beneath the sunset.
“Anybody can pass their grip upon musans ships as captain?” Sparrow urged to Will, to boost these men’s spirit of endurance. “I think this is just the advantage. They believe their invincible. What’s better than to show them there is unfinished business with old Jack?”
Will knew that an assortment of men was looking around him for any reason to maintain struggling. Truth be told while the pride of the lives of everybody on this vessel stood at stake, anyone that contemplated them faint of courage, constricted the odds of salvaging salvage prosperity from their grappling mouth of defeat.
Commander Jack’s tony dressed in Captain Barbossa’s garb. It concealed his motivations without obfuscating his genius granted form.
“We batten down the hatches, boys,” Jack ordered, earning a round of nods round his pupils. “We’re fixing to make sure those outcasts confess otherwise.” Steadfast maneuvers of proficient pivots will manage this till end of days commencing tomorrow on.
The sound guns rang out ineffectively, the splinters shielded their targets carefully set to dance Death’s most threatening ballroom tango. The battles almost seemed unwinnable, firmly landing them before a grey decision ultimately shrugged off their arduous measures.
But Will taught wildly rife this remaining commoved minute. He’d achieved bettor to other guys effectively blended his riveting charming mates with his polished molding in unprecedented ways, all away from par beyond any regular blunder foot costly practice any retired seamen and stable piece of wrought iron from South Korea may advocate.
Their fort imminent as trouble free assumed their grief-stung bravery pushed all the personnel on the Pearl to rummaging disarray.
“Cut off their access point to exit,” ordered Jack, firm and coherent.
He and Will volunteered to oversee the delegation of his remaining efforts. They joined hands in plan, hammer in and strived to land every successful blow physically possible, while their enemy surrounded their flock with great inconvenience of holding back their resilience.
In the thick change of revelry and riot as the free men swarry gloated over their enemy’s fiery inevitable domination, however brief, honing nothing but intense distress and contrariwise inner inclination.
Chapter 6: Rescuing Elizabeth
It was early morning, and the winds were calm as the Black Pearl floated silently along the bay. The familiar faces of the skeleton crew could be seen walking in and out of the ship, moving about their business. Jack Sparrow stood on the deck, lost in thought, as he scanned the horizon. He knew their quest for the cursed treasure would not be easy, but he never envisioned it becoming so dangerous.
A group of men approached Jack, their faces twisted in anger. “Captain Jack, we have reason to believe that you have taken our captain and a young woman captive,” one of them growled.
Jack raised an eyebrow, cocking his hat to one side. “Ah, the young Elizabeth Swann, no doubt,” he remarked drily.
The men moved closer, tension mounting. Jack remained unfazed, moving his hand casually to his sword. Suddenly, there arose a cacophony of ships out of the calm morning, their sails billowing in the wind. Jack turned to see a fleet of British warships, their crews spilling onto the docks as they prepared to do battle.
The crew of the Black Pearl jumped into action, grabbing weapons and rushing to their stations. Jack gave orders to his crew, shouting out instructions above the sound of the wind and waves. He knew that they had little chance of winning this battle, but he would not go down without a fight.
As the two fleets converged in a hail of gunfire and cannon fire, Jack urged his crew to defend the ship with their lives. The battle raged back and forth for what felt like hours, with neither side gaining the upper hand.
Just as all seemed lost, there was an unexpected turn of events. The young blacksmith-turned-pirate, Will Turner, hurried onboard the Black Pearl, successfully rescuing both Jack and Elizabeth. Despite the uneasy alliance forged between Sparrow and Turner, the tension swirling between these two seemed to still yet again.
As they set sail having narrowly escaped total destruction, Jack couldn’t help but feel that there was much more to this rivalry than met the eye. Meanwhile, Elizabeth looked at her rescuer in a new light, but felt torn between the call of the sea and her secure motherly life she had before with her father within Port Royal.
It was a close encounter that would never be forgotten, each side pondering the significance of the other so close yet still fighting without compromise.
Chapter 7: The Prison Escape
Will sat alone, staring at the floor of his cell. Sparrow sat on the neighboring bunk, staring out of the barred window into the gray sky above. Their escape out of Port Royal to initially acquire the Black Pearl went swimmingly, it was everything that occurred after that ran into issue.
A court hearing of Pirates finally concluded and both Sparrow and he were found guilty, thus set to wallow in prison until their execution. Sparrow, on the other hand, seemed to take comfort in the thought of his own imminent death. Then came William Turner. With his bravery, came a way out. “I’ve been planning a rescue, But we needed a third man. A man who knew Port Royal like the back of his hand.” Will gesticulated beyond the cell towards a disfigured looking pirate who answered to few who knew his name, “Jerome Perry.”
Jerome was a fallen brother of the brothers of the coast, fitting himself into the prison gang life reserved for low society within high walls, while using their networks to feed underground societies throughout Britain’s colonies. How exactly he’d aid him and Sparrow, both Turner and Sparrow had no idea now as it’d need time to hear what Jerome had been cooking up. Jerome surveyed Will, seeming to evaluate his character scrupulously. Will also wondered if he was reassessing the entire plan for he provided them with a curt but firm nod, accepted his terms and exited, leaving the range of Will’s and Sparrow’s immediate hearing, walking off to dispatch an unseen courier.
Sparrow spoke up finally as silence threatened to consume them, “Slim-chance Turner knew anyone in prison. We’ve been surrounded by guards this whole time. Could take years to try again, starting from nothing.”
But a small light of hope, both of them realized had already seen set in. This was, Will turned back around, was “not the ‘end of hope’ kind of conversation I was looking to have with anyone.”
Trust as distanced as what the three of them had became intertwined with respect and similar goals. A week went by before Jerome was back. Loyalty was usually unduly mutual amongst trusted thieves, unless it stood to threaten their loved ones or family members. Jerome Perry had four such individuals burning wild in his thoughts for the last 365 days. The authorities would inevitably request that he give up their whereabouts, however, taking part in the potential release of Will Turner and captain Sparrow now provided an unsupervised path home for Jerome and pardon of these four, Smith, Frankie, Chrissy, once he’d dealt them over to a smuggling boat incognito in the smallest hours onto Archport’s shore late the following night.
Jerome’s stool plopped down to the cool stone floor below, perching on it sluggishly, and told them of a small scentless vial. Through words, drawings, time tables Jerome presents plans of a heroic escape, in addition he reveals stashed tools and objects necessary for execution hidden behind precisely placed bricks in their own cell, for They apparently needed nothing but the most minuscule support to execute the completely blind-sided, the perfect escape.
In the darkness of a rollicking chain gang stumbled some of the last vital gears to the Turner-Sparrow escape scheme. Every link giving off clamorous insights into the workings of the curse beaming off the Pearl wheezing only seen activity upon weather seeming corrupt in like. Ironically there was meant to be no effective way to exact revenge or control for Barbossa – nothing to cause the relief of the cursed without the rising crest of constant full moon rising. But last night proved different; last night showed the swishing chill of wind worked almost in their favor. Last night promised a different potential outcome. The pirate Jolly Roger’s dapping coat shone imposingly through the swishing wind gains. Will nodded, a storm was coming.
Jerome pushed the object, the golden lantern with a dragon flown print, from him, but it was Sparrow’s piercing gaze that captured every tune in the place. Will Turner sighed, then placed his hand at the floor with a nod of gentlemanly comprehension. Jerome threw in supplementary silently rubbing his shiny hook titled fingers laboriously on it, moving it up and down too hard, he seemed incredibly cautious handling it. It did not go in accordance to old pamphlets bequeathed from Gabriel.
Sparrow slightly chuckled as Jerome finally let out excited gasp and to told them to come in humming – he struck the ground, broke the bricks, assembled handle from the table rim, replaced everything, burned stummels.
Once aboard the Barnacle, Sparrow appeared agitated, he was audible on board, seemingly worrying out loud to everything, wondering if keeping to the darkened passageways of Ft.Camerane as commander Norrington and partner always filled it but Toby stepped forward and immediately offered aid.
And soon as all this was said and done,
White waves forming in orbs brilliant released depth that will never end. They watched from a distance at quickly vanishing depths seeing seaweed cling onto the beams through their clean cuts glazing white upon surfacing. England begun to gain shape once the mad unfathomed current abetted, washed up on distant shores.
We joined back up to Sparrow with Will’s sound lead.
There was silence during this great endeavor was almost deafening, but every err of control for the ‘true culprits’ soon came undone thanks to Will Turner’s immaculate eye for these operational duties. Not so long later, during recent spells of speechless activity on board, bloody pigeons being cautiously smuggled into them out of ribbons, walked into the captain’s quarters to gift them news they never expected. Matthews immediately received the note, scotch left on the leader’s upper stone stairs, bustling outside; he peeled the scrawl carefully, rummaging fortuitously in his exageratted coat. Yet Sparrow looked a respectable amount thrown as to suggest way more than just distrusting sources of news was building up within him.
“We’re two, someone beat us to it, we’re bypassing this vortex before more guards are fetched. Naval officers of greater rank had crawled themselves aboard hull Yanking them between the starry fathoms–inducing drugged sort of venture. Remember Will protested this, so as captain it became Jack’s enacted plan for their own gain, the added advantage seemed to eclipse the mention of any newly formed risks. Will beseeched him to alter course, then became to ferociously assault from each other side panicking, as they saw only extreme distance from where they were; for the infamous dreaded of pirate flesh eaters battled on this path-“bones in the outer sea rapidly metamorphosis doubling and tripling on bone then eat. On cries of vengeance by all holy beings.”
They swung over the pivot-looking Golden Lubbecine Dragon upon Sparrow gave them both barely audible orders at the, squinting himself to shield his sight from the stinging, fine spray from the dim deadening.
Jack rocked deftly about surrounded silently by a storm looking more and more bleak and brutal.
Now everything went worse. They got freaking lost-can’t possibly be presumed lost when avoiding a frayed end to crew bickering whilst drifting wrong yet poor decisions over plan A all night lately caused everything to go farther off script. James Norrington took notice and unscoutfed Turner and marooned him. Sparrow on board con B and especially him have departed due East towards home solus leaving behind the unwinding of skeletal regiment with Barbossa far behind, however, they now found themselves stuck in the Carolina coves whilst the previous marine politics got complicated….
Chapter 8: The Final Confrontation
The morning sun crawled up over the horizon, casting a dull light over the still sea. The water was a soft shade of blue, contrasting the dark clouds gathering above. On the distant side of the horizon sat the eerie outline of the Black Pearl, sailing towards the coming storm.
The two ships drew closer and closer together, their destinies locked in the fury of the shifting winds. Barbossa stood calmly on the deck of his ship, arrogantly confident that he’s about to defeat his cursed foes.
“Lower the sails!” Will shouted to his crew, seizing hold of the ship’s wheel. Elizabeth drew her sword as the ship lurched forward under the strain of the whipping winds.
Their movements were careful and practiced, pacing ahead to ensure their success. Sparrow emerged from beneath the deck, the sweat on his brow making the poorly kept dreadlocks seem weighed down more. With a quick nod of his appreciative eye, he leaned against the thick pole to watch the storm approach. Through the flying mist, he saw Will and Elizabeth closing in tight alongside each other not too far away.
Sparrow smiled, he had taught them well.
Soon, the sky was a riot of white bursts, bruised arcs of lightning illuminating choppy peaks like apparitions. Will drew his sword and stood up confidently before the rest of the crew, signaling they could hold off Barbossa’s initial attack.
“C-can we take them down, Mr. Turner?” Pintel stuttered beside him.
“We shall fight until our last breath!” Will replied firmly, now approaching them all with his gaze firm.
Their ship and Barbossa’s sailed straight into each other, causing their guns to discharge, ripping towards pieces of wood and metal that sprayed sparks and filled the air with smoke.
It was chaos. Elizabeth swung her sword against Barbossa’s, the ferocity of their attack dripping from their eyes as they attempts to inflict permanent injuries on each other. Will charged aggressively down the length of the ship with his sword unsheathed, aiming to join with Elizabeth.
Sparrow, meanwhile, dashed below the deck, flashing a grin at Gibbs, knowing full well he’d reserved an ace in his sleeve that would make him become elusive to his foe’s shadow.
The skirmish worsened and expanded into a full-blown battle as the precious midship was over-occupied by contorting crews, every inch of wood covered by grappling hands, seething rage, daggers and metal.
In the midst of the fierce fighting, sparrows direction changes, pirouetting around, ducking, weaving and dodging by dim street lamps his adversary’s swinging swords as though they were mere paper windmills.
Shallow toppling barrels obediently took to roll before his wake, unpredictability pumping new vigor into his furiating pursuit.
“Sparrow, stand and fight you coward” growled Barbossa between clenched teeth. And yet, matched for unparalleled composure and deadly attitude, Sparrow finally turned, bracing himself for the expected rush which remained curiously thwarted with delay. With the perk of an eyebrow, he tilted his chin imperiously, retaliating while circling his bewilderment.
“Why run, amigo?”
“On my mark,” Sparrow snarled, drawing a gun and pointing it directly at Barbossa. “Now.”
Pausing momentarily but taking the hint when Sparrow directed his pistol at Barbossa, Pintel and Ragetti threw the captain their coin, revealing that they actually swept it from the cell where they entrapped Sparrow aboard the Pearl.
The two bodies transformed in a plume of thick black necrotic dust, swirling within the helter-skelter conflict, caught in the wind till out over the side of the boat.
Swerve permitting after his adversary’s main weapon succumbed to calamity from his wish compass, Barbossa stumbled forward wide-eyed upon his executioner, surveying his fate.
Sparrow couldn’t resist: “You got surprised, yes?” Sparkling wickedly, he sought to deal his final card of misery with definitive warning that would leave his nemesis presence gone for good!
Chapter 9: Facing Defeat
The clash between Jack Sparrow and Barbossa had reached a stalemate. Barbossa’s crew was already locked in battle with the rest of Sparrow’s crew. Every blade that hit metal, every scream of agony, every flash of musketry piled on Sparrow’s flagging morale. His swashbuckler spirit seemed plummeted after the temporary euphoria from achieving the curse pearl had melted into a hard reality of defeat.
Sparrow had ordered Rowe, some of his mates, and Turner to plant some kegs that deter grenades behind one of Barbossa’s decks. However, it might send untold amounts of people to their unmarked graves. There had to be a wholly different tactic worked out. Until then, Sparrow paced in circles in his cabin’s confined space nervously. Everything he touched sizzled under his fingers. It was as if the unflappable Jack Sparrow had lost faith in everything, himself included.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth and Will were locked in the brig. Outside their cramped quarters, silence reigned. No hammer hitting an anvil, no musketry, no fighting words. It was still. Twilight was falling over the deck. As she rediscovered the cursed severed monkey paw which once hung from his loathsome set of Barbossa’s décor, anger brought a fixed tightness around Elizabeth’s eyes. She gaped at the articles in wonder, then resigned defeat.
In despair, Will slumped down on one side of the oversized wooden chests which dot the ship’s gun decks. He wondered how they went from chasing pirates to being imprisoned by them so quickly. Will was verily troubled through with anger fit to split him in two, all fo life of the woman he’d just confessed his love to seemed left to imagination. Beads of sweat dripp the sides of his hairline. He had only his potential future insecurities and impeding fatality for the woman that he carried so highly on his pedestal. These moments of conflict will forge him into a profoundly stronger person if it weren’t his befallen tragedy. He looks incredulously and pockets the fig wrapped scone given to him what seemed like such long ago hours now at the brothel in Tortuga.
Through such desperation, fate should frown on them. But as Sparrow entered the brig to tell the two of some last glimmer of hope in his failure, fate entered. Yegg dowsed the innards with powder after the shipment of eelback arrows ran out. Sparks were flicking onto the decaying timber walls next to it where the kidnapped and infamously sought luxury a commorant destroyer, USS Dauntless were anchored. Despite an argument in port, that predicament brought around pretty efficacious light up of blank eyes of the frightened, yet smouldering voyanteers on this dread pirate vessel. Sparrow and co could only discern from afar the flag on the USS Dauntless drop vividly from its peak. The moment it had taken the considerable death jags discharged to reach the stocks demanded by the cursed chest which should have prevented he blows from landing on life was but a flicker.
In a final battle carriage, Jack and Will served the presence of value while Elizabeth shrugged off her fear and took command over what was attainable in goals at the time through her skills of negotiation remained unsuccessful bar one. Hardly anyone on the Pearl had deigned it funny to spawn for the Dauntless to bring an enigma to, but from Sparrow’s sour demeanor, his singular disallowances of every valiant to pitch forth some explosive shot or hanging on to give the infested rat line on the service brig, surely no gunpowder fired or would come to commingle.
Their pursuit of rescindment was an uphill battle steeped with questions of both humanity and adroitness. Where resolve molded the fate accordingly partnered and with aptness they comprehended what they needed. Though transpiring threats cut one nail biting scene from another, Sparrow’s mighty punches, Turner’s sharp skills all sculpted the line between death, fruition and rebirth. Round one had self-inflictingly ended with nothing but scars and a looming treacherous path ahead.
As the sun set on the Caribbean sea, Jack Sparrow stood alone on the deck of his ship, the Black Pearl, feeling the weight of a lifetime of adventure behind him. The crew danced and sang in celebration around him, but Jack felt a subtle sadness creeping in as he watched his friends revel in the after-glow of their hard-won victory.
Just then, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Elizabeth standing next to him, wearing a smile that nearly lit up the moon-bathed night.
“Hello, Jack,” she said.
“Hello, luv,” Jack replied, his lips forming a smile softer than the sunset’s dappled light on the sea.
“I wanted to say thank you,” she said, moving closer to him.
Jack chuckled. “Well, I must have swapped brains with that monkey after all, because I’m the one who should thank you.”
“Thank me?” Elizabeth said, her eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Aye,” Jack said, glancing up at her with a twinkle in his eye. “For showing me that the greatest treasure in life is the love between people, not some shiny bauble in a wooden chest.”
Elizabeth wrapped her arms tight around Jack’s rugged frame, and for a moment he felt weightless. She spoke softly, her voice warm as the Caribbean waters below them.
“That’s something I learned from you, Jack,” she whispered.
Jack felt a tear prick his eye as he wrapped his own arms around Elizabeth’s waist. The two stood locked in silence, each feeling the depth of emotions and gratefulness they had for one another.
After a moment, Jack pulled away slightly and looked Elizabeth in the eyes. “I never thought I’d say this, but I do believe it’s high time for a pint,” he said with a nod towards the rowdy crew.
Elizabeth smiled and took his hand, tugging him towards the laughter and joy that awaited them.
As the sounds of the crew’s jubilation echoed over the sea, Jack felt a sense of peace, regardless of whatever crazy and perilous adventures he may find himself in. After a lifetime of searching for treasure, he had discovered something of immeasurable value in Elizabeth’s love.
And that, he knew, was the real treasure after all.
Some scenes from the AI movie Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl
INT. SMALL TOWN – MORNING
We open on a quaint small town. The sun is rising over the tall trees as cheery birds chirp in the distance. An old beat up truck clunks down the road toward the local coffee shop. JOE, a scruffy-looking, uniformed man, steps out of the truck and walks into the shop.
INT. COFFEE SHOP
Joe walks up to the counter while ruffling his hair. He scans the menu above the barista and finally decides on a plain black coffee.
That’ll be $2.50.
Joe hands over the money, and while she prepares his coffee, a young woman named MARY, cheerful and lively, excitedly talks to her best friend SARA about her new online business venture.
I’m telling you, I think this is really going to take off.
Just remember me when you become a millionaire!
Mary scoffs and smiles at her friend as the Barista hands Joe his coffee.
Have a good day!
Joe walks over to the corner of the coffee shop, where Mary and Sara are sitting. He has a crush on Mary but is too nervous to ask her out.
Suddenly, they hear a scuffle outside, followed by a loud crash. Sara shrugs off the commotion and goes back to chatting, but Joe gets up and walks to the shop’s window to investigate.
EXT. COFFEE SHOP
Outside, in the parking lot, a car has crashed into Joe’s truck from behind. Joe slowly realizes that the driver seems to be unconscious. Rushing forward without even worrying about his truck, Joe tries to help him, but as soon as he looks at the guy, suddenly his eyes roll back into his head and he collapses onto the pavement!
Joe looks up towards the coffee shop and yells to Mary, who’s now joined him at the window.
Go call an ambulance! Now.
Mary rushes to the phone while Joe tries to resuscitate the unconscious driver.
The screen fades to black leaving the audience wondering what will happen next.
Scene 2: Flashback – Aboard the Black Pearl.
We open on a flashback. We hear the sound of waves crashing, seagulls crying and the shouts of pirates echoing around the deck. The camera pans down to a very keen and cunning Jack Sparrow, playful but focused as he gives orders to his intense band of pirates.
Suddenly, the nearby sea picks up, and the sky above darkens with ominous clouds swirling into the blackness. There ensues a feverish frenzy of hoisting battens, setting square sails, loosening the fore-top boss’ls, and squaring the yards: braces and spanker-boom spun quickly amid chattering rapid-fire orders as Jack repeatedly shouts, “Prepare to still the cannons!”
The wind hits them, and they lurch forward. Above, the sky illuminates with a crack of lightning, helpfully backlighting Jack himself as his bravado and competence are happily confirmed: a force to be reckoned with, a wild card to always have in the mix, and say about Jack what ye will but the scurvy dog drives a hard bargain…
We then see Jack spotting his beloved compass on the desk and intently brushing his hand over the surface. Jack affectedly whispers and then grins as the needle spins crazily before coming to a stop. A new chapter here in bold tells us Jack’s excitement comes from recognizing a calling: The Curse of the Aztec Gold. In the distance beyond the fog, the Black Pearl disappears across the horizon.
EXT. PORT ROYAL – DAY
As the sun reaches its midday zenith, we see the bustle of the coastal town of Port Royal. We witness scenes of local workshops and traders bustling to sell their wares to visiting brands from far-flung corners of the world.
Focusing on an especially busy street, our view is blocked by a large pirate ship entering the harbor, raising the signal flags “Jolly roger,” a skull and crossed bones atop a black background. The ship swiftly docks to pirate dock to accompany others. For residents of Port Royal, this is no doubt a common sight, yet a small crowd gathers close to observe the gathering ships with noticeable anxiety.
Amidst all, a figure eerily emerges from shadows – this is MORGAN, between 30 and 40 of age, cunning significant, and well dressed. He approaches a young boy in the crowd, raises the boy’s chin seemingly displaying compassion before leaning in to whisper, asking the boy to run a errand for him promising him profits in the near future.
Protesting that he cannot trust the boy, another group of men surrounds Morgan ready to attack. Defiant and cool with daring, Morgan stands strong as he plays on their suspicion and tempers deftly warning, revealing his loyalty to those willing to pay him well.
Shutting him up suddenly, BOGUE an unrelenting man, walks forward briskly. Morgan smiles wryly, realizing this was the supposed waiting crew he had just observed catch up to him.
A joyful Will grabs the boy and starts running, leading us to –
EXT. BLACKSMITH WORKSHOP -DAY
We focus the entrance of an old rusty blacksmith workshop made of well-worn wood where we hear hammering of molten iron on steel. Will is taking cover while he describes what he had witnessed both at the port seeing while offering strawmen wearing hats some beer. Two of them agree they’re as good pirates as any others at sea, and together blackballed almost.
The shouting intensifies, causing Will to break off his brave exhibition and beat a hasty retreat out of sight.
An ANGLE REVEALS –
A petite but indomitable girl dragging him to the nearby clinic. Will catches a wink of her medical vocation displaying attraction, looking secretly towards her on the way.
We continue alongside them –
INT. PORT ROYAL FORMER MONASTERY/CLINIC – OFF KITCHEN ROOM – DAY
Will saws his ax, putting on the forge-like extending kit. Meanwhile, LUC INDIGO, his freckle-covered green-eyed hack man, steps in while talking to the young girl about his last bar visit.
While their interactions are bubbly,it is clear from the sense of abrasion and irregular breathing that the girls’ interest in Luc is partially due to her careful attitude towards them.
Will recoils his reflection in admiration-goggles steaming up briefly allowing itself mischief – soon we know they recognize each other fleetingly.
A scene takes a lonesome couple adjacent, charming in a tired kind of way, pausing for longer than they should before tenderly wrangling.
Good to see you Millsy.
In blatant admiration of his looks and scars
You doing your fancy new tricks now?
Breaking records, Will Turners?
Hard working always. Frank gets drinks tonight.
Why settle for warm porridge when a power of rum is headed to this port tonight?
FADED as Will looks at they black balloon that arrived outside the window is unveiled by whom no one sees now.
INT. JACK TORTUGA TAVERN
Jack walks through the crowded Tavern, his long curly hair and pirate outfit drawing attention. He makes his way to the bar
and sits next to Ana Maria.
A tad late aren’t we?
(dons slight cocky smile)
A pirate is never late, Miss Ana Maria.
You said you’d leave in two days, Jack. That was five days ago!
Two days, five days. What’s the difference?!
A jug of finest rum, mate, if you’d be so kind.
So are we going or not?
We are, but not just yet. We wait for the right moment.
Ana Maria rolls her eyes, but her expression softens as she watches Jack talks to other patrons of the tavern.
You don’t have any coin now, do you?
I’ll get us what we need.
Fine, but you owe me one.
Jack winks and turns his attention to the bottle of rum brought to him by the bartender.
EXT. TORTUGA – DAY
Jack and Ana Maria exit the tavern and make their way to the docks. They approach a group of pirates repairing a small boat and inspect it.
Tell me, which one of you is going to take us out to the ship?
The pirates converse amongst themselves before finally pointing towards a young sailor.
INT. BLACK PEARL – DAY
Jack and Ana Maria set foot on the deck of the Black Pearl. Upon seeing them, the crew murmurs and whispers to one another. Barbossa, the captain of the ship, is nowhere to be seen.
(to Jack, whispering)
This doesn’t feel right.
Alright, mates, anyone up for a ride on a deserted island?
They all look at each other, hesitant. Suddenly Barbossa emerges.
The crew may lack discipline, but they wouldn’t be fool enough to follow you.
Me? I’m dishonest. And a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly.
(smiles till he exhales)
It’s the honest ones we want to watch out for because they can always convince themselves that they’re doing the right thing.
Right… well, that makes me feel a lot better.
If ye want to join us, come as you are – but bare in mind, it’ll be a hard life.
(joyful glint in his eye)
😂 😆Ha, what course? Or, shall we just five nonstop to Davy Jones Locker, huh?
The sea waves ripple and reveal more ships in horizon, then take over the happy dialogues.
First on the right way- new destiny arrives, while the old identity will slowly fade away.
INT. PORT ROYAL JAIL – DAY
In the cramped and filthy jail, Jack is trying everything he can to escape from his cramped cell. He has one hand cuffed to the wall at all times, but he sports his swaggering manner nonetheless.
Will approaches Jack’s cell, looking uncertain about something.
What’s your plan, Jack?
It’s not exactly complicated, mate. I’ll get out of this cell and get my ship back. Barbossa’ll pay for what he’s done.
But how will you escape the island?
Jack puts his face very close to the bars, and his expression becomes sober.
On my lost love.
EXT. PORT ROYAL TOWN CENTER – DAY
The streets are raging now— angry townsfolk tearing apart businesses owned by the pirates: boats are smashed, wares are scattered and chairs from several port-front inns lay broken in the street.
Elizabeth is desperately trying to reason with the group, standing on the steps of City Hall. She’s mirroring the Governor’s style more and more— all about gestures, quality of voice soaring— probably inspirational stuff, or maybe she’s just trying to hang on until righteous soldiers show up for everyone.
Please, my father and I are heading up the effort of ousting these criminals as much as any of us. The navy will be here any day now, we just have to quiet down and–
Suddenly, Elizabeth catches a glimpse of something behind the townsfolk— figures in the distance, marching this direction.
Elizabeth tries to talk louder, use her arms and holds, but realizes even she’s going to have trouble being heard over the people in the streets.
(professional, turning to face the movement)
Everybody, attention please!
He raises a crucifix high, & abruptly almost all attention shifts up to him.
Location: Will Turner’s workshop
Will is busy working on a sword, when his friend and fellow blacksmith, Jacob, walks in, looking troubled.
Jacob: Will, have you seen the news?
Will turns to face him, wiping his sweaty brow with his arm.
Will: What news?
Jacob takes a deep breath before answering.
Jacob: The Black Pearl has been sighted off the coast of Port Royal. The town’s on high alert.
Will’s eyes widen in shock.
Will: The Black Pearl? That ship’s supposed to be cursed!
Jacob: Aye, that it is. But that doesn’t seem to keep the pirates away.
Will pauses, staring intently at the sword in his hand. His mind races with thoughts of Elizabeth, and the upcoming wedding. He shudders as realisation hits him.
Will: Elizabeth. She’s in Port Royal.
Jacob places a comforting hand on his shoulder.
Jacob: We’ll get her out of there, Will. I promise.
As Will sets the sword down and picks up his tools, Jacob reaches for his own set of tools.
Jacob: We’re gonna need all the help we can get.
Will nods, grim determination in his eyes.
Will: Then let’s get to work.
The two begin to hammer away as darkness falls on Port Royal. The sound of metal striking metal echoing down the deserted streets.
FADE TO BLACK.