DISCLAIMER: I do not and will never own any of the characters or settings appearing in this chapter. The situation was first (and foremost) conceived by Ted Elliot & Terry Rossio, Jay Wolpert and Stuart Beattie while I just put it to words, bringing it to life as I saw fit. Some of the dialogue can be connected to the first film and, hence, is not mine but was inserted into the story to put connections between my story and the film. Bill's speech on Isla de Muerte is the work of Ted and Terry word for word, taken from Barbossa in one of the first drafts of the script. Except for the poem, it is NOT my own work. (I just decided it fit with the feeling and overall situation.)

Author's Note: This is, as happens with many, my first fanfiction. Should you disagree with something that I have done, I beg that you let on lightly- harsh would can be discouraging. Some may have found this story on other sites and I would also like to note something that I ran out of room to write in the title and the summary- this version is revised. Mistakes have been changed and there are things within the story itself that have changed such as conversations and descriptions but I've also taken the time to change how some things happen as well. Sorry if you liked the original ways, but I came to be displeased with them. Enjoy!

Pirates of the Caribbean:
On the Edge of a Knife, Off the Edge of the Map

Prologue

Steady trickles of rain from an overcast grey sky were steadily falling from their homes in the sky above and gracing everything they met with their drops of wonderment. They were miracle tears, for they seemed to purge the world of filth, irk and pestilence- cleansing and healing those in need of such things. And now, as they were pattering gently against the mass of dark sails which belonged to the Black Pearl and the windows of her cabin, she was still. Silent.

Her upper deck being empty, one might of guessed she had been abandoned had she not been settled in the middle of the high seas with a man nestled in the crow's nest. No, she was not alone nor abandoned- she was waiting. Waiting for her voyage that she was built to find and endure, to recommence. And her voyage would soon be continuing, in spite of the powerful impression that that was unlikely.

Unrest, quiet, impatience, frustration and even repulsion hung heavily in the air about the crew and their captain. Such feeling that was seemingly tangible smothered the atmosphere, so that those who at one time were unirritated by the circumstances were inevitably consumed by it as well.

"'Exciting,' he said. 'Yeh'll never find a moment to be weary- there'll be no time.' Whadda he call this? 'An adventure?'" one of the men by the name of Pintel present grunted in a protest.

At this remark there were many grunts of approval, a few laughs amongst the pirates and silent looks of miserable agreement around the galley. Some leaned on the ship's bulkhead, some dozed in hammocks slung sloppily and others made the best of the floor. Pintel was one known for endless complaints and murmurings amongst the crewmen. He never could simply be positive unless he was getting something he wanted or enjoying that something. Such was his good friend, Ragetti, only Pintel was sharper (dear Ragetti oftentimes could be as blunt as the bowl of a spoon). And such were many other crewmen.

Such was Bo'sun, Mallot, Grapple, Jacoby, Twigg, Koehler and especially the first mate,… Barbossa. He was supposed to be an example, one who discouraged such attitudes and grumbling towards the captain but it was something other than that with his case. He encouraged it. And this evening wasn't going much different from the others, except the feelings that were felt previously had been stretched and magnified and Barbossa was the one to blame.

"For Jack Sparrow thinking things through properly is an adventure," he derided unshamefully. More chuckles pattered about and a few sneers of agreement flashed about the compartment

"He's got his head screwed on backwards," Bo'sun grumbled.

"Probably doesn't have a liver," Mallot joked.

"Oh, he does, Mallot, he does," Barbossa assured. "S'just an unusual shade of yellow."

An uproar of laughter burst from the men, being very amused with Barbossa's way of thinking (but also afraid of what he'd do if they didn't laugh at his joke). He never could resist deriding men of authority (when he wanted their position). But they were interrupted from their fun and games with the silent, disappointed sound of the soft clicking of a tongue. Silence fell upon them and all heads turned toward the galley's entrance stairs (except for Ragetti's, who was still giggling loudly and stupidly at the banter- ceasing only after receiving a harsh stab in the ribs from Pintel's elbow).

A tall, dark and generally good-looking man who looked to be at the age of about 25 (when, in truth, he was in his early 30's) stood on the stairs, shaking his head back and forth in disapproval- an expression of mock dissatisfaction and pity on his face.

"Teaching false doctrine to the crew, are we Barbossa? You know it puts Lady Fortune in bad spirits."

"Shut up, Turner. Yeh've got no right to lecture and/or contradict me- I'm first mate, not you."

A smile materialized on the man's face and he swung around the stair rail. "True," he sighed, "But everyman has a say on a pirate ship and if you change that, you'd be changing the code. You're not stupid enough to break the code, are you Barbossa? You know the consequences." He helpfully mimed a slit throat action to jolt the first mate's memory.

Barbossa scowled at this and a few scowled with him. "Aye, I know the code."

"Of course you do. You're a pirate. We're all pirates here- tougher and rougher than normal men! Terrors of the High Seas as a result of what life has had to dish up for us! So, why can't you just be the staunch men I know you are and accept this bit of a rain shower for a while?"

"S'not the weather that bothers us, Bootstrap" Barbossa sneered back and continued, beginning to laugh as he did, "Or did yeh manage teh forget that the good ol' cap'n is having difficulties remembering exactly where we were going?"

To this the crew laughed in something close to an uproar, Ragetti even let out a snort in his titters. Obviously, they were not at all impressed with Jack's attempt at becoming a pirate captain at all, regardless of the fact that he was truly trying his best.

Bill, however, was not at all pleased with this remark. In fact, he was quite angry. "Well, if you're so unimpaired, why don't you go and find the bloody isle for us?!"

To this the crew fell silent again and unrest filled the air with the silent knowledge that he could not, nor could anyone else aboard the ship. Jack was a brilliant cartographer only a little while before he fastened his young heart to the idea of piracy- and there was none better than he. He could find an island in any ocean of the world with just a handful of hints and instructions due to his special talents and skills- even a cursed isle. Which was exactly what they were headed for: the infamous Isla de Muerte To this mad attempt many people shook their heads and frowned, muttering how it was just a fairy tale or legend, and in many eyes Jack was a mad man. However, when it came to mapmaking and navigation, there was no one better. Hence, if the Jack Sparrow got lost, then only the Jack Sparrow could get himself "unlost."

"Well?" Bill barked after Barbossa hadn't replied. "Go! Get us out of this mess, Signor Perfect!"

"Yeh know very well I can't," Barbossa fumed silently.

Bill grinned maliciously and couldn't resist putting a hand to his ear, pretending he couldn't hear Barbossa properly. "Oh, what?"

"I can't, alright?!"

"Yeah.… Alright." He gave a disgusted smirk as he turned and shouted, "Oh, Pintel! It's your turn to take watch, mate!" while he disappeared noisily up the stairs and up to the main deck, Barbossa throwing him a look of utmost hatred after him as a retaliation for his… embarrassment.

"Stupid blighter," Ragetti mumbled, speaking the thoughts of possibly everyone in the room as he and Pintel got up to take watch. "Thinks he's all great jus' 'cause he ain't been discovered to be one o' us." The only reason they showed Bootstrap Bill any respect was because he could wield a sword better than any other man aboard their ship.

"That's 'cause he ain't," Pintel muttered. "He never was one o' us."

"And neither was Jack, nor will he ever be- he's a loner." Twigg added.

"Nothin' but a hopeful cartographer," Barbossa stated coyly. He stretched his arms and took liberty of an untaken barrel next to him. " I dunno 'bout you fellas, but we've been on this here voyage for some three days and we haven't seen nor heard tell of nothin'! Nothin'! Ha! Not one stinkin' doubloon! Now, if I recall correctly, Jack Sparrow promised us that we'd reach Isla de Muerte in about three or four days. There would be literal mountains of golds, heaps of rubies and diamonds and sapphires, and pools swimming with pearls. 'Piles of silks,' he said. 'And valuables and riches beyond any pirates' wildest dreams- the treasures of Cortés himself!' Well… I'm lookin' about meself now and I'm sure as not seein' no gold!" he laughed. "No, no earrings with emeralds, no silver- just what we've had since we spent our last plunder: nothin'. A whole lot of nothin'!"

Many grumbled and murmured about this when this point was made and, by now, all were listening in on Barbossa's opinion.

"And, as I'm sure yeh've all noticed, we haven't been sailin' nowhere for 'bout five or six hours now. Why? I'll tell yeh why. He's stallin'. Them honest men, they're easy to figger out, they are and I'll tell you this very minute: Jack Sparrow ain't plannin' on givin' us no gold."

More grumbles were heard scattered about.

"Now, when I sailed with good ol' Blackbeard as a lad, such behavior was untolerated. Yeh make a promise and it's kept or you'd get twenty lashes, yeh did. Now, here we are and our own cap'n has backstabbed us! Tricked us! After guaranteein' we'd be men richer than our imagination can allow us to see or perceive, here we are; trapped in a stuffy ol' boat-"

"Ship," Pintel corrected.

"-ship,- thank you, Pintel- goldless, sleepless, seasick and sick of waiting for our due treasure!"

Several cheered in agreement with this.

"Shall we put up with this any longer, mates?" Barbossa quietly asked with a sly smile after all the cheers had died down.

Mumbled "no"s were heard scattered here and there in response.

"Well then.… I assume s'bout time for a change."

A soft knock at the door was sounded while Captain Jack Sparrow, bent over a large map and with plume in hand, droned a miserable, "It's open" without looking up from his work. His forehead was pressed on the palm of his left hand as he woefully (and possibly painfully) attempted to work out of his current predicament.

Bill Turner stepped in the room with a small smile gracing his lips. "Did that manage to silence them?"

"No," Jack whined, throwing down his pen and looking mournfully at his ally. "They started yelling all the more louder after you left- what did you say to them, anyways?"

"I just told them to shut up."

"Ah! That would explain it. You said it just like that?"

"Yeah, I guess so.… I also told Pintel to go to watch- it was his turn."

Jack grinned, showing a mouth full of clean white teeth and Bill smiled back in an identical manner. In fact, the two friends looked very similar in appearance: they had similar backgrounds as (assumed) perfectly honest common Englishmen, they were close in age and many of their facial features were the similar. They both had hair that was the same shade of darkest brown and that went down to their shoulders, held back by ribbons (in Jack's case) or rags (in Bill's case) to be kept out of the way. They both had the exact same sparkling yet dark brown eyes that reflected their mood and inner thoughts deeper than any other thing on their bodies. They both had a moustache and goatee gracing their lips and chins. And, of course, they had the same personalities and senses of humor.

Many mistook them for brothers and, in truth, neither Jack nor Bill opposed to such a suggestion. Sometimes going with such ideas proved helpful to hide their true identities. What they really were.…

"Actually, Jack, on a serious note, the crew isn't at all pleased with you right now. In fact, their angry, mate. I mean, if we don't get moving fast I wouldn't be too surprised at all if they skinned you alive then rolled you in sea salt."

"What's your point?"

"You need to recall those bearings, mate, or there'll be trouble for you. Savvy?"

"Yeah. Savvy. But I have news for you, William Turner," Jack stated simply as he stood.

"And what's that?" William folded his arms across his chest, raising his chin with an air of superiority and arrogance, but the laughter in his intensely brown eyes gave him away.

Jack grinned, exaggerating his stupidity as a way to play his good friend's game. "I have just remembered about my pocket that is so secret even I forget about it. And as I feel it, I think I may have found…" he reached in a pocket kept close to his heart (practically literally) and pulled out, "ah! My compass! I wondered where that went. Now, let's see.…" he bent over his map, opened his compass and looked back and forth between the two for a few seconds. "Aha! Here we go! We need to turn …23 degrees to the Nor- no, South. 23 degrees to the South."

Bill stared blankly at Jack for a long while. "…You mean to tell me that we've been stuck at sea for five uneventful and very unhelpful hours, and the whole reason was because you forgot that your compass was in your pocket?"

"…Yeah." He didn't seem in the least ashamed.

Bill slapped his forehead in a manner that suggested he thought Jack was an idiot, but he couldn't help but wonder whether Jack was joking or not. He then regained his composure. "Hm-hm. Shall I signal the crew to make ready to set sail?"

"For now, that'll have to wait. We've been stuck hereon this blasted ocean for a few days now- I think its high time to bust out a few drinks and tell a few good jokes. We need a break."

"Yeah, well I have one thing to say to that."

"And what's that?"

"Actually, two things."

"And what's that?" he repeated.

Bill held up one finger as he counted off what he needed. "Don't tell the crew you lost your compass in your pocket."

"Okay. And?"

"Don't drink too much."

So, they celebrated. For what reason? Well, honestly there was none. But they drank, told wild stories and raised their voices in the most frightful sounding chorus of sea chantey minstrels heard for leagues about. And the rain cleared, the stars shown bright and the torches and lanterns were brought out long before things began to slow down.

"Y'know, Jack," Barbossa slurred a slight bit louder than he intended to as he threw an arm about his captain's shoulder. "Now tha' yeh've figgered out which way's the righ' way again and all tha', …per'aps, it'd be bes' if we prevented such a thing as this from happenin' again?"

To this everyone, even Bill (who was possibly, if you can imagine, the tipsiest of the bunch), grunted their approvals.

"How should that be done, my dear friend?"

"Well," Barbossa sat himself and Jack down on two barrels, "We're pirates, here, all o' us. And we're headin' ou' fer the legend'ry treasure of Cortéz on the dreaded Isla de Muerte, am I correct in tha'?"

"Aye."

"On a pirate's ship, the code states that every man has an equal-"

"Oh!" Bill shot up to the straightest stance he could manage in his state and recited in a slurred manner, "Ev'ry man has an equal vote an' say in everythin'. Every man also had an equal share in the spoils earned, for every man earns his share fair and square when he participates in sailin' the ship and fightin' for the goods," Bill finished lightheartedly with a giggle in his drunken stupor as he uncorked his fourth bottle of rum straight and began to down that rapidly.

Jack just waved him off with his hand, "Thank you, Williamson. Please continue, Borbasso."

"Eh? Oh, righ' Jacques. Well, since ev'ry man 'as an equal share in everythin' that should mean the location of the treasure as well, eh?" he nudged Jack's shoulder with his fist in a friendly manner.

"What're you playin' at?"

"I'm not playin' at anythin'. I'm jus' sayin' it would be bes' if you gave me the bearin's for Isla de Muerte- jus' to play it safe."

"I don' know…."

"Actually, Jack," Bill put in a ridiculous grin plastered on his face and he sounded as if he was trying to hold back a build up of spontaneous laughter, "I thin' t'would be bes' this one time. S'not a bad idea, mate."

"That way, if yeh ferget how to get to the isle again, Barboosie can back yer up," Pintel put in. Ragetti nodded fleetingly in agreement, spilling the rum that missed his bobbing mouth onto his trousers with a loud curse.

"Well… I guess s'a good idea."

"O' course t'is! S'mine, after all!" Barbossa laughed slapping Jack on the back heartily.

"Alright," Jack sighed after a moment of thought. "But I'll be tellin' you in my cabin- don't want the wrong ears catchin' wind of it, savvy?"

Unfortunately for Jack, as he took a swig of his rum was unable to catch the betraying grin that crept its way across Barbossa's face. "Savvy."

Jack was right in the head to think of the idea of the wrong ears catching wind of the bearings to Isla de Muerte. But what poor Jack, poor young, naïve, honest and bloody stupid Jack didn't realize was that the wrongest of ears to let grasp this invaluable knowledge, was the person whom he'd put the most trust in aboard this ship, save his brotherly friend; Bootstrap Bill. And those ears, the bloody damnable ears were about to take hold of this important secret without him realizing it.

"Alright, what are you up to?"

"Eh?"

"You heard me. I know you're up to somethin', now spill it."

Barbossa simple stared back at Bill blankly for a moment. It suddenly occurred to him that jolly o' Bootstrap Bill hadn't been as lost in alcohol's spell as he had previously supposed. He silently cursed himself. One more blunder like that would be the end of his carefully conceived plans. He had to fix it up. "Nothin'! What made ya think I was up to somethin'?"

Bill raised an eyebrow and waited till the last of the crewmen had disappeared below decks before he continued. "Barbossa, I've worked with and for you for ten years, mate. Whether it was buyin' your guns or sharin' rights with ya on a ship, I've been with ya long enough to recognize when that conniving li'l mind o' yours is being set to work. What're ya doin'?"

Barbossa sighed. "There's no hidin' it from ya, is there Bootstrap?"

Bill just stared back, waiting for Barbossa to begin his explanation.

"Guess not. Here's the deal, mate," Barbossa approached Bill and began to speak in a harsh whisper. "It was an accident, really, but I ran into the cap'n's log yesterday an' I found somethin' in it that wasn't too pretty a thought."

"You read his journal?"

"It fell off o' his desk alright? He forgot to put it away, it fell and, when I picked up, I just saw somethin' that caught me interest, that it did, and I couldn't help but read the rest of the entry. See, … the Cap'n's takin' us all for a ride."

"What?"

"In the entry he said that he wasn't goin' to give us no treasure. He was goin' to use us to find that island we're aheadin' to then, once we're there, he's gonna have certain -er- shall I say mutinous members kill us innocent ones off, then head off with the treasure hisself. Can ye believe that?! I mean, some of us have families we were plannin' on usin' this booty to support. The man's a scheming li'l bastard!"

"I think you're lyin'."

"By my wife an' children, Bootstrap Bill, I swear I'm not!"

Bill sat in silent disbelief for a moment. That was a strange oath. "By your wife and children?"

"Yes."

"…You really read it then?"

"Yes."

He still pierced Barbossa with a skeptical eye. "When was this?"

Barbossa gave a hardy laugh, praying that it didn't sound at all awkward. Bill was a very observant and intelligent man. He asked a lot of questions and didn't forget the answers, paying attention to details that no one would originally think at all important to the matter. This was the danger of the situation: if Barbossa made a slip in his answers, the slightest slip then Bill would catch it and all would be lost. "Jus' before our little celebration- after he announced we were goin' to celebrate."

"What were you doin' in the Cap'n's cabin, anyway?"

Curses! Did the man have to be so consummate?! "I, uh… well, you know the duties of First Mate- sometimes the cap'n sends you in to get stuff for him."

"What did he want you to get?"

"Rum."

"We had rum."

"He had a special stash he wanted for hisself."

Bill scratched his head then rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to think things through. "By your wife and children.…" This was a complicated situation. Barbossa could very well be lying, and Bill recognized that as a threat. But what if he was right? What about his wife, Kathrine? His little Will? They needed that money. Of late, supporting his wife and child was a huge strife and struggle. He could use that money more than anyone else he knew aboard the ship. And, what if Barbossa was lying? If he wasn't, then they'd have done the right thing and Bill would get his money. The money would be plentiful and Bill be able to home and spend a few years, if he so desired, with his wife and son. His son.… He was growing up without him. Wouldn't it have been wonderful to watch the rest of the time the boy spent under his roof? To actually be there as his real father should be? And Katherine- gentle Katherine! Oh, how he missed her! Perhaps he would be able to be home in time for the birth of their second child? But if Barbossa was lying….

He would having to stab Jack in the back, trusting Barbossa's word that Jack was going betray him first- he couldn't afford that. He needed that money, this expedition was an all or nothing bet for Bill. And if Barbossa was lying, then he would have unconditionally hurt Jack- double crossed him when Jack had put more faith in him than any other man aboard his ship. The only reason Bill wasn't first mate was because Jack hired Barbossa, captain of another ship called "The Abyss," and his crew to work under him, and Barbossa, being a captain, got the second highest rank on the Black Pearl for this voyage. But perhaps there was an advantage? If he joined forces with Barbossa- or at least appeared to do so- then, he'd his share of the treasure, Barbossa couldn't hurt Bill for betrayal of any sort and Bill could try to fix any damage after he had been separated from Barbossa with his new-found fortune. Perhaps this once he could.… He just needed let Jack know… he would come for him in the end.

Barbossa watched Bill silently, waiting for his reply.

Bill looked at Barbossa, completely stoic. The wind ruffled his hair as a small breeze swept across the ship, lifting the scent of the sea about him once again. He looked up at Barbossa and from somewhere, out of the blue, the thought hit him. Circumstances didn't matter. This was wrong. He didn't want to be a mutineer, disloyalty was one of things he despised most in men. A cold sneer crept into his expression. "No."

"What?" Barbossa seemed to expect an answer quite opposite from that.

"No," Bill repeated more strongly before making his way toward the ship's hatch.

"And why not, Bill?" Barbossa called. "You willing to risk the lives of your wife and child?"

That lit a spark and Bill turned on heel, rage filling his eyes like a flame, hot and damaging. "Jack Sparrow," he spat, "would never, under any circumstances harm my family. He's more than that, and you know it!"

And now Barbossa, who was throughout this whole moment calm, cool and composed, became angry. His wrath was evident in the manner in which he suddenly drew up his tall figure in a superior stance, dark and wrathful. "I know it. But I wasn't talkin' 'bout ol' Jack Sparrow."

"What do you mean?"

"I have eyes, Bill. And don't mean these, right here," he pointed to his blue and yellow orbs, menacing and ugly to look upon. "I mean men. Men who will go about and keep watch over certain places and things that I feel may come to my advantage in the future. Even certain crew member's homes, if need be." He cooled down and gave another wide and malicious grin.

Bill's anger fled and he paled, although not intentionally. "You don't mean-"

"You know, rumor has it that your wife is really quite charming and pretty, as it were. Be a shame to have to tear her away from the shelter of that fine house you built for her."

"You wouldn't dare-"

"Oh, and that child of yours. Probably a very sweet kid, really. Why, what on earth would happen to the poor thing if his mother and father, let's say, 'disappeared?'"

"Barbossa," Bill growled, his temper rising again toward wrath.

"And the last I saw of yer ol' house, Bill, I must say it truly wasn't meant to be put up in flames."

"You're lying. You're a liar. You're just sayin' all of this to maneuver me into your plot. Well, I won't do it. I won't do it, simple as that. You're just going to have to live with it."

Barbossa leaned in close to Bill and seized him firmly by the cotton vest he donned. "You willing bet your family on that, Bootstrap?"

Bill went silent with terror. This was impossible. He practically had no choice!

"What about you're life? Don' think you're family could get far without ye.…"

That was true. As much as he loathed to succumb to the facts, the truth was as Barbossa said. His family was barely making it with him and his support that he gained from his odd lifestyle. How on earth would they manage without him? And, worse, how could he manage without them? They were everything to him. 'Oh, Katherine.…'

"Well?" Barbossa gave Bill a light shake. He was impatient. The night was growing old and every minute was essential for this plan to work successfully. He took out his pistol and, cocking it and placing it under Bill's stubbornly set jaw. "Have you decided exactly where your loyalties lie?"

Silence. And then Bill eyed Barbossa with bitter disgust. "…What's your plan?"

Barbossa split into a wide smile. "We could use yeh, for this, mate. Welcome aboard!"

"Jack!"

"Hm? No, go away," Jack grunted in his sleep.

"Jack!!"

"I don't want any."

"JACK!!" Bill burst into the captain's quarters.

"Go away," Jack puled sleepily.

"But Jack, blast it! the island! I can see it from here!"

"What?!" Jack jumped up excitedly. "Alright. Alright, alright. Alright." He flipped on his jacket and his boots. "Alright! Let's go!" he walked out the door, with Bill following close behind, frowning slightly.

"Jack," Bill unexpectedly and quite suddenly reached out and grabbed Jack by the shoulder, a look of concern flickering in his expressive eyes.

Jack volleyed back a look of bemusement. "Hey, William, was wrong?"

Bill looked at Jack for a moment more, his face clouding over with some expression that Jack couldn't read before he cast his gaze downward.

"Bill?"

Bill looked up and gave a somewhat suddenly encouraging smile. "Jack, I just wanted to say that, no matter what happens after this moment, I'm on your side. In fact, I want you to have these as a reminder," he held some strands of worthless beads that they had acquired from an attacker's neck after a fiasco they started in Tortuga, in which Jack got into trouble and was about to beaten on by three big guys and Bill came to his rescue and accidentally spurred a fight throughout the whole tavern while in the process, " that regardless what it appears to be I'll be there for you… one way or another."

Jack cocked an eyebrow at Bill as he took the beads in his hands and looked from them to his friend strangely. "Hey, William Turner, I think Iyou're/I the one who drank too much rum tonight- you feeling okay?"

Bill's eyes flashed with there old charm and he broke into a grin that had been missing in an unusual manner. "Of course, Jack! You know me- just have to worry about every little thing. I'm Stupid Bill, remember?"

Jack laughed a bit at this as he pocketed the beads. "Aye, bloody stupid Bill."

Bill's grinned changed to a fond smile, warm and brotherly before changing the subject. "Hey, let's see that island of yours."

To say that Jack wasn't excited would be a horrible understatement. Wiping the brow of his forehead with a red handkerchief, he took off at a rapid pace past Bill, toward the ship's main deck. "Can you really see it?" he asked excitedly as he opened the cabin door.

"What? Oh, yeah! It's not far off the starboard side."

"Fantastic! Get the men ready to load into the longboats, we-" he broke off at the sight before him. There was no Isla de Muerte for all he could see, but there was his crew, standing before him in a large group, torches in hand, swords and pistols drawn and at the ready, murderous looks and smug grins barely visible in awful moonlight. Barbossa stood at the head, his arms crossed and a cold smirk embellishing his lips. Pintel and Ragetti stood behind him, each with a think rope in hand.

"Evenin' Cap'n," Barbossa greeted quietly.

Jack twitched a quick smile and chuckled nervously. "Heh-heh. Gentlemen.…" He was at a loss for words. He looked about them for a long while before thinking of something to say, just to break the seemingly impenetrable silence that awkwardly took hold of the situation. "What's going on?"

"Well, Jack, as you would have it, we had a little chat while you were in your cabin this afternoon," to this Bill raised his head a little in slight surprise. They had talked about this beforehand? But Barbossa said that he had noticed the journal entry a few hours ago, at a time in the evening after that of when he said they "discussed" this matter.…"And we decided that, for the benefit of the crew, it'd be best if you'd take yer leave of us 'bout now."

"What?"

Barbossa just smirked again. "Gents, get him."

"Wait, stop! Why are you doing this? Please, mates- gentlemen! Please, stop. Bill, help me!"

The pirates swarmed Jack and almost instantly overpowered him, tying his hands up and pushing him about. They slapped him, they laughed at him and the bosun even pushed him to the floor and began kicking him.

"Oh, and thank you, Bill," Barbossa called over the scramble, "Couldn't have pulled it off quite as well, without you!"

Bill stood in the corner, caught in a personal predicament. Barbossa had blackmailed him. It was all a scheme to enlist his help and he didn't stand a chance.… Now here he was. Alone. Standing in the shadows of a corner on a ship in the Caribbean, in the middle of the night, watching. Just standing and watching as his own crew members beat and mocked their captain rudely as a result of his pure shock. His captain, his friend, his brother. 'How could I have been so stupid?! Jack would never betray me if was put in my position- he just wouldn't! Barbossa is a bloody bastard in the first place, how could I even begin to let him force me into this?' He flinched as Jack let out a whimper from Bo'sun's beatings. He had done this. 'I didn't even fight, I just gave in. Gave into Barbossa's intimidating power and his sly words.… I betrayed Jack.'

Barbossa let out a long, pleased laugh And Bill sound found himself glaring coldly at him. "Alright, gents, that's enough! We've had are fun, now let's get the job done!"

They harshly picked Jack up by the arms and pushed him out onto the plank, which had been awaiting him this whole time. He shivered in the cold and now ached horrible every where. It hurt to breathe, his lungs throbbing from the strain they were put through as he had wind repeatedly knocked out of him, and his lip was cut and bleeding. It stung.

Barbossa laughed again at Jack's miserable state. "Jack, Jack," he drawled out and shook his head. "Don't look so sad. Did yeh not notice? There be a little island off shore there, waitin' for yeh!"

Jack turned and saw, surely a moonlit island that was so small a little mansion or large house would take up the whole thing- leaving no land to come with it. He turned and looked back at Barbossa, frowning. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Well, mate, when you hired me as your godforsaken first mate, you forgot one very important thing: I'm the one and only Barbossa."

Jack scowled. "I thought you swore allegiance to me. When I broke you out of that jail cell you promised that you'd never do to me what you had done in your past. You betrayed me."

"Well, that's true…. But then again, what's a promise to a knave like yerself?" Barbossa laughed.

Jack frowned and swallowed. "So, you're just leaving me on that island?"

"Aye, but, o' course, not without a fair chance. Where be Jack's pistol?!" he reached a hand over his shoulder and a pistol was placed into his palm. Barbossa walked up and stuck the gun in Jack's belt, but only after taking one ball and loading the pistol with that one shot. "For good luck," he stated simply with a smile. Jack scowled again and Barbossa laughed, turning Jack around and pushing him towards the plank's end.

"Farewell, Cap'n!" he jeered, drawing his sword. "Don' get too much sun there, mate!"

Jack turned to look back at his crew, who were all jeering and hooting and laughing and pointing. He looked into each one of their faces, until his gaze fell upon Bill. He looked… helpless. His face was twisted into shock and confusion and Jack knew that he didn't mean to part of this. Finally he locked eyes with Barbossa, who was still sneering that same blasted sneer that he'd worn the whole evening. "You'll regret this Barbossa. You'll pay for this!"

Barbossa simply gave Jack a becoming salute and shook the plank, forcing Jack to fall into the water.

"What are you doing?!" Bill's voice broke through the throng and silenced the lot. "You marooned him!"

"Boy he's a sharp one, innit he, lads?" Barbossa laughed and the crew joined in.

Bill marched up to Barbossa, infuriated and wrathful. "You told me you were just going to throw him into the brig!"

Barbossa made a thoughtful face and crossed his arms, "No, actually, I don't think I did. I said that we might. But I guess it didn't turn out that way, now did it?" He then laughed at the horrified look upon Bill's face. He should've paid more attention to Barbossa's words- he knew better than to let him trick like that! "Com'on, mates! To Isla de Muerte and gold of Cortéz!"

Jack surfaced as a cheer rose from the ship and, slowly, she began to sail away into the night, never to be seen by him again.

Since the night of the mutiny, Bootstrap Bill was never really part of the crew anymore. Even though he was first mate, the only times he was actually among the crew, mingling with them, was at the times of giving out Barbossa's orders. Other than that he locked himself. Sometimes he just stood apart from the others and did not speak to them, other times he literally locked himself up in his cabin. However, this did not go unnoticed by Barbossa, he became suspicious of it.

Although he was despised by the dominant amount of the crew, Bootstrap was an influential voice on the ship, unlike any other. In fact, half of the crew members didn't even dare to attempt the mutiny until they knew Bootstrap was in on the plan.… Or at least that's what they were told.

He no longer trusted any of his crew members. Each one appeared as a demon, a monster in his eyes. He wanted them to be punished for their wrong doing. Many of the crew members noticed his isolation and cold ways towards them. When they asked him for the first time why, he replied, "Because … it's wrong with the code." And in truth it was. But honestly, Bill was angry with them for more than that. Jack was a brother to him.

Two days later, the call came out, "Land HO! Land HO!"

Excitement rose amongst all the crew members- even Bill. They had found it. It was real and they were there. The treasure they had been looking forward to for months on end was finally at their fingertips. The lost treasure of Cortéz himself.

They shuffled into the longboats and wound their way through the caves, illuminating their way by the dim lights of their lanterns. Several minutes that felt like hours crept by as slowly as their boats that snuck through the water on which they glided. The air was stuffy and warm in a way that was most uncomfortable. It was close together and made it difficult for the crew members to breathe… or was that the anxiety?

At long last, after minutes that crept by as slowly as days seem to creep to a two year old child awaiting Christmas day, the boats hit a shoreline and everyone stepped out onto dry land. They passed through a quick maze of small tunnels that finally opened up to their destination. A huge cavern stood gaping before them. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, and rocks formed magnificent sculptures of natural beauty. Sunlight streamed in from small openings in the cave's roof and the water collected in pools on the floor caused it to reflect in dancing lights upon the walls and ceilings.

All of this they saw, then they looked about them at a lower scale. There were rocks and rocks and more rocks. They searched about themselves for the glint of gold or perhaps the sparkle of a diamond to lead them to their long awaited treasure. But they saw nothing and began to complain.

"There's no gold!"

"Barbossa you promised us jewels!"

"Where's the treasure gone?!"

"We should've never listened to you, we should never have let Jack go! He probably actually knew where the treasure was!"

"You brought us here for nothing!"

And so their curses arose in anger and despair. They surrounded Barbossa, planning to bring him to his death as consequence for his deceptions, swords and pistols and grapples and all their weapons drawn and ready.

"Gentlemen!" a voice rang out from somewhere far behind and all heads froze and turned to the voice. Only Jack called them by that name. But they could tell by the cold edge that was added to it that it wasn't Jack. Bootstrap Bill stood upon a high hill of rock in the center of a pool of water. His face was contorted in anger and rage. "All of you just shut up! What was done to Jack was done out of your own free will, and killing another will not assess our situation, especially on this isle."

The pirates looked at each other, confused at this stand and throwing questionable glances around while shrugging in return to the muttered questions that batted around them for a few short seconds before Bill continued, " 'Isla de Muerte' is Spanish for 'Isle of Death,' and, for those of you who do not realize why it was given such a name, let me inform you of its history."

Every ear was listening to Bootstrap now, and every eye was fixed upon his face, filled with fury and ire towards his fellow shipmates.

"Back when Cortéz was cutting a great bloody swath through the New World, a high priest gave him all the gold they had with one condition: that he spare the peoples lives. Of course, Cortéz being Cortéz, he didn't." Bill pierced Barbossa with a cold stare as he spoke this last sentence. "He would have made a great pirate, that one."

A heavy, uncomfortable silence poured over to fill in what Bootstraps voice had filled just before. Uneasy glances were cast amongst the men.

"So the priest, with his dying breath, called upon the blood of his people," it was then that Bootstrap turned to his side and walked to what the men now realized was a stone chest. He kicked off the lid, "and put on the gold a curse."

The men swarmed up the hill and gathered round to look at the chest, which was filled with gold coins, skulls engraved into each one of them. They ooed and awed and Pintel even reached out to take a piece, but Bootstrap put his hand out to stop him.

"If anyone took so much as a single piece, as he was compelled by greed, by greed he would be consumed."

The crew murmured on this and looked uneasily on it. At least, they did until a hearty laugh broke through the silence.

"Curse, ay?" Barbossa said skeptically as he pushed his way to the front of the group and looked Bootstrap on the eye. "I hardly believe in ghost stories anymore, Bootstrap, I'm not a child."

"That may be," Bootstrap replied without changing the expression on his face, "but don't say I did not warn you. Don't say they didn't warn you."

"They?"

Bootstrap turned and removed an old piece of paper that was written in Spanish. He translated:

"'Whosoever,
An he a mortal soul be,
Shall lift but a single coin from this chest
Shall be punished for eternity.

'Neither shalt thou chance to be
Living nor dead,
For thou shalt forever live
Bearing torment upon thy head.

'Everlasting thirst
Shall for thee be real,
As also shall be thy hunger
And lack of ability to feel.

'Under clouded skies
And in the sunlight bright,
Thy countenance shall discern from
That betrayed by moonlight.

'For until of thy gold
Thou might take part,
Thou shalt indeed appear
As the pure greed of thy heart.

'And thou so longest
To amend this woe you sense?
Repay our blood shed in slaughter
To receive thy recompense."

Bootstrap looked up at his crew members as he folded the paper and tossed it back into the chest. "Within a day of leaving port for Spain, the treasure ship carrying the gold … something went wrong. The ship ran aground, every man aboard dead, save one. He survived long enough to hide the gold ashore.… Over time, the dark magic of the curse seeped into the place, making it a cursed island. An isle of death. Isla de Muerte."

The men became very uneasy, standing on cursed ground and all, and some began to panic. But Barbossa stood up once again. "Settle down ya bloomin' cockroaches! Settle down!" He turned to Bootstrap. "Bootstrap, mate. That's a wonderful story and, it sure as may work on your poppet and moppet at home, but we're grown men. No ghost story's gonna shake us off our gold, is it mates?"

A few "no"s were heard, but the dominate amount of the group remained silent.

"There! There yeh have it! We'll be takin' the gold, Bootstrap."

Bootstrap just stared back Barbossa for a long while. "You may be a liar, but I'm an honest man and I'm warning you, you'll regret taking this gold."

Barbossa just smirked. "Now, when have I ever lied to you, mate?"

"You swore by your wife and children that you read in Jack's journal that he planned to kill us all. You lied, twice. You never read his log and you don't have a wife and children. You probably can't even bear the thought!"

Barbossa stared back at Bootstrap with a thoughtful look on his face. "Well, if you're so honest, per'aps the curse will go kindly on you. You can take the first piece, mate."

"No."

"Yeh'll be doin' it mate," he cocked his gun and pointed it at Bill's head, many of the men followed his example, "or yer wife will end up a widow."

Bill stared back at Barbossa for a long time, hot hate ever so slightly shimmering in the depths of his abstruse orbs. Then he reached out his hand and took one piece, his gaze never leaving Barbossa's face, and lifted the coin up for Barbossa to see the skull. "One," he said simply.

Barbossa smiled and reached for a hand full of gold, and Bootstrap grabbed his shoulder. "You'll want to be counting those, because before you know it, you'll want to be putting them back. Every last one."

When the men had made it back to the ship they were plenty pleased. The gold of Isla de Muerte was unique enough that it was bound to be worth more than even Spanish gold coins. Immediately, they set out for Tortuga.

The journey was rough, for the minute they set sail, it stormed unlike anything the men had seen before. The sea herself seemed to have turned her wrath upon them. However, when they arrived in Tortuga it was still cloudy, but no rain nor wind could be felt or seen. The only weather problems were clouds and fog. The men went about the town, spending their money as freely as ever on food, drink and pleasurable company. But not Bill Turner. No, Bill did something no one else did. He received several more coins from "friends" while aboard the ship and spent them on drinks and food until he had spent them all.…Or so he claimed.

An uproar was started at the local pub when one pirate found his food and drink all over his pants and another found himself out of gold and still no less parched than he was before. Many more free-for-alls went, well, up that were so grand and heated, they never were able to be stopped. Tortuga was forever known as a place where men endlessly scuffled for no apparent. But, I digress. Barbossa called a meeting back on board the Black Pearl, where ceaseless complaints were heard and it was finally decided that they should leave Tortuga.

They sailed away and a few weeks passed in which the same problems that were occurring in Tortuga occurred on board the Black Pearl, and a mass of fog seemed to follow the ship wherever she went. They simply couldn't escape it. Then, one night, while the ship remained still in the middle of the high seas, everything went silent and calm. The clouds and fog pulled away and the moon crept from his hiding place to shine his silver and blue beams from his full, round body, onto the unsuspecting ship.

All Hell broke loose. The men looked at each other, at themselves and discovered themselves to be literally the living dead. Skeletons with decayed flesh and tattered clothes hanging from their ominous limbs and eyes agleam in fright and anger from within the midsts of their ugly skulls. They panicked and screamed in fright until Barbossa attempted to calm the crew and assess. And as he did so, he couldn't help but notice- Bootstrap wasn't there.

But he came later, when the a cloud decided to mask the moons rays. And as Bootstrap walked on deck, Barbossa's wrath fell upon him. He backhanded Bill across the face so hard that he sprawled on the floor and caused his lip to split, but no blood fell.

"You knew about this bloody curse all along!"

Bill looked at him, half with disbelief and half with satisfaction at Barbossa's pain.

"Of course I did. I tried to warn you but you were to stupid and arrogant to listen to me! In case you can't remember, you said it was just a ghost story."

Barbossa kicked him hard in the stomach as retaliation. He was a proud man and he was angry. The fact that he was wrong, that none of this- their undying hunger and thrist. their lack of ability to feel anything, their ghastly appearances- would have happened if he had just listened to Bootstrap Bill made his blood boil over.

"Why didn't you press harder?!"

"Why didn't you listen?!"

"Shut up!" he kicked him again in the kidneys. Then he grabbed him by the hair. "How do we undo the curse?"

Then Bootstrap Bill Turner, he looked Barbossa in the eyes and he laughed. He laughed a long cold laugh then pulled away from his grip and pressed his body against the ship's cabin as the cloud in front of the moon pulled away. "Do you think the consequences of the curse did not fall upon me? Look at me!" And he stepped out of the shadows, revealing himself as an undead fiend. "I took the first piece! What makes you think that slapping me, kicking me, beating me would do anything?! Can you feel this?" He took out his gun and shot Barbossa right through the chest.

Barbossa simply looked down in shock and back up and Bootstrap's smoking pistol, his eyes wide with surprise. "No," he whispered unbelievingly.

Bootstrap cackled as he reloaded his pistol. "Hey, Mallot! Tell me, can you feel this?" He took aim and without any sign of remorse shot Mallot and Mallot just shook his head in a reply, his mouth agape.

Bootstrap gave a hearty laugh again, strong and yet cold to those whom he was laughing at. "Welcome to your Hell, gents. Welcome!"

Now he began to cackle again, when Barbossa grabbed Bootstrap by the collar of his shirt and he pinned him to the mainstay. "How do we undo the curse, Turner?!"

Bill did not reply, his smile fading.

"How do we undo the curse?!" He shook him harshly.

Again, Bill did not reply. Rather, he glared, ferociously with a loathing that Barbossa didn't think could ever exist in a man like William Turner. "Why should I help you?"

"Because!" Barbossa began to get frantic. "Because, if you don't, … if you don't … I'll- I'll hunt every last friend," his voice began to find strength, "every last you hold dear and I'll kill 'em all. Slowly. Painfully. And I'll make you come on that hunt. You'll be there for it all."

To this Bootstrap could not reply and Barbossa now laughed. "Yes, I'll do it, too. I swear by the Holy Bible I will. And I'll keep to my word Turner, you know it." Barbossa smirked smugly at the look on Bootstrap's face and gave a theatrical sigh. "But, …I think we'll be just a tad merciful. After all, yeh did help us find the gold in the first place. You're child's death will be a bit shorter …than your wife's."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, I would. And I suggest, unless you truly would like to find that out fer yerself, you do as I tell yeh- or there'll be consequences."

Bootstrap struggled again inside. He hated this. Every time that he refused to Barbossa's bidding, the people he loved more than anything were put in danger. These men deserved to stay in their awful state after what they did to Jack, but he loved his wife.… He couldn't bear the thought of her being.…

"All of you deserve to be curse and remain cursed after what you did to Jack. But alright, … I'll tell ya."

"Good," Barbossa sing-songed and tightened his grip on Bill, as if to squeeze the truth out of him.

"You… you need to collect all the coins and put them back again."

"That's it?"

"…Yes."

"Very good."

The sun rose and the mist returned, putting the men in their normal visages. Light grey clouds blanketed the sky as Barbossa approached Bootstrap, with a rope in his hand and a smirk on his cold face.

A somber mood filled the air as he looped the rope through Bill's bootstraps, around his ankles and finally several times around a canon. The movements of his hands seemed to pace in slow motion as he began to tie off the knot.

Bootstrap just stared, silently and emotionlessly off into the distance, his eyes cold and empty with his hands bound roughly together behind his back.

Barbossa stepped back from his first mate as he finished his knot, with a cold sneer pressed upon his disgusting face. He turned to Pintel and Ragetti and gave a nod. They looked at each other from the corners of their eyes, smirked and slowly began to push the canon toward the ship's edge. It hit the water with a splash that seemed to echo in their ears for hours thereafter and the sight they saw as they leaned over the edge haunted their nightmares for years to come.

Ol' Bootstrap Bill …we knew him. Never sat well with Bootstrap what we did to Jack Sparrow, with the mutiny and all. He said it wasn't right with the code, that's why he sent off a piece of the treasure to you as it were. He said we deserved to be cursed… and remain cursed…. But as you can imagine, that didn't sit too well with the Captain.…So, what the Captain did, he strapped a cannon to Bootstraps' bootstraps. The last we saw of ol' Bill Turner , he was sinking to the crushing black oblivion of Davy Jones' Locker.…