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Captain Jack Sparrow gazed at the vast expanse of white sand, on which he and his beloved Black Pearl were marooned with no hope of reaching the sea.
His mind was fuzzy, plagued by a surfeit of hallucinations, every single one of them ending with him never sailing again and embracing his one true love, the ocean.
He was aware that if things kept going that way, he would lose his mind.
“But it’s remarkable how often brilliance and madness coincide,” he murmured under his breath, tugging harder on the thick rope.
Sadly, the ship didn’t budge.
Elizabeth Swann tricked him with her treacherous kiss and the Kraken dragged him and the Pearl to Davy Jones’ Locker.
"Seriously, it's the honest ones ye want to watch out for, because ye can never predict when they're going to do something incredibly stupid," he mused, wiping sweat from his face and wanting desperately to wash his hands of all this weirdness.
"You are without doubt the worst pirate I've ever heard of," a woman's voice drifted to his ears.
Captain Jack Sparrow scoffed. "But ye have heard of me."
Then, he shook his head and tugged again.
He heard soft, light steps getting closer, but didn’t want to steal a look.
He had it with the illusions his mind wouldn’t stop crafting. The heat made things worse, reminding him why he abhorred spending too much time on land.
His skin crawled and his heart started beating faster, mutinying over the thought of never sailing again.
“Shut up and keep yanking,” he snapped.
“But it won’t do you any good,” the silky voice interjected again.
“No one is here. Aye, no one is here and I’m not addle!” he kept repeating at full tilt, refusing to succumb to the Land of the Dead’s Curse.
“Ahoy, I’m over here and I don’t have all day, you know. If you were waiting for the opportune moment to save your hide, this is it. I don’t want you to regret missing it later,” the infuriating voice drifted smooth as honey, and even in his half-crazed state, he discerned her amused tone.
"I’m disinclined to acquiesce to yer request, woman. Go away,” he shooed her away, still refusing to turn his head.
“As you wish," she chuckled and everything went too fast he wasn’t certain how it happened.
Jack was glued to the spot, literally, his fingers going slack allowing the rope to slide to the disgusting white sand.
There, standing in the midst of the endless void, was a woman clothed in strange silky white robes that reminded him of the alb the irksome missionaries who wouldn’t stop pestering him with their ridiculous Faith wore.
He adjusted his tricorne and straightened his collar, his eyes roaming over the vision standing there, looking unconcerned and entertained at once.
She wasn’t a siren, of that he was sure. He knew the bloodthirsty men-hunters, had visited Isla Sirena twice and caused the crew of the Barnacle to fall captive to their enthralling song.
The hazards of being a good pirate…
However, this woman, ghost, fantasy or whatever... was not one of them. He would bet his precious Black Pearl on that.
It wasn’t only that she possessed a pair of functional, pretty long legs.
But the suffocating aura surrounding her made him shiver, reminding him of the mysterious soothsayer of the Caribbean, Tia Dalma.
He was a faithful son of the ocean and he could indubitably feel the auras of the mystic creatures that wandered over The Seven Seas.
Her long dark hair slid down her shoulders like two bolts of Suzhou’s illustrious silk, almost reaching her hips. The ebony waves had indigo hues that awakened his memories of the feral Atlantic.
Yet, what made him grin and look forward to the challenge this sweet vision presented, were the blazing gem-like green eyes piercing him from under her sooty, long eyelashes.
“Hullo there. I apologize for my rudeness, beautiful. Wherever ye want to go we’ll go. I’m all yours,” he swaggered lazily, flailing his hands and waiting for a reaction.
His heartbeat soared when she smirked, unclasped the first button of her robes and took off something from her swan-like neck.
Jack gasped, his finger pointing at what she was holding accusingly. ”It's my compass!”he shrieked.
“I know,” the woman dangled the leather rope and his greedy eyes followed the compass’ movements.
“A gentleman allows a lady to maintain her fictions, but if you’re under the illusion that I’ll let ye keep my compass you’ll be disappointed. I’m savvy to being savvy. But how savvy are ye?” he mocked getting closer to her.
She barely tilted her head and sighed. ”Damn you Death, soulmate my foot. I’m dealing with a rapscallion over here.”
Then, offering the compass she glared. ”I’m here to save you, so try to stay put and listen carefully. Captain Barbossa, Will Turner, Elizabeth Swann and Tia Dalma are heading here to rescue you. But you can’t trust them, they’ll stab you in the back again. I know how to control Jones’ heart.”
Jack was flabbergasted. ”You…who are ye?”
“I’m Cordelia Peverell and I’ll help you get away from here,’’ she said coolly.
His eyebrows hit his bandana when she produced a long stick from her pocket and waved it in the Pearl’s direction. The ground shook and where the endless desert was a moment ago, soft waves crashed against his knees.
“What are you waiting for?” She lifted an eyebrow, her lips twitching with mirth.
Jack grinned widely. ”Apologies, my lady. Please, lead the way.”
He bowed and swaggered, following her happily and sighing at the feeling of the blessed, cold water touching his thirsty skin.
Davy Jones would remember the day he ordered his Kraken to drag him down to the bottom of the sea as the day he almost caught Captain Jack Sparrow.
He’d better cherish that memory for it would be his last.