Isla de Muerta was a chunk of volcanic rock, fortified by shallow, narrow obsidian passages. Silver mist hung around it like a gauzy skirt. From a distance, it seemed like a dark smudge in the grey horizon; up close, it was a menacing pitch castle.

Joanna joined the crew in leaning over the railing, squinting into the murky ripples beneath the hull. The shattered remains of unlucky brigs glinted back. "Puts a chill in the bones, how many honest sailors been claimed by this passage," Gibbs ominously avowed. Joanna concurred, but she questioned his use of the word honest.

The way in was thin and jagged, hardly wide and deep enough for a modestly-sized ship like the Interceptor. Nevertheless, Jack guided the ship through perilous waters with a sure hand.

Joanna found herself studying him from a distance -- his tendency to finger the bright, blue bead beneath his right ear, the particular angle of his hat, the shadow of a tattoo beneath the shoulder of his shirt. What Joanna found most intriguing, however, was his persistent habit of checking the compass. They were already at Isla de Muerta. In other words, Jack should have no need to peek at the arrow every other minute.

"What does the compass point to?" Joanna asked Will, grabbing him as he passed by.

He surrendered to her tugging and stayed put at her side, shrugging his shoulders. "I haven't asked. I think it must point to this island."

"You think?" Joanna set her eyes on the helm again, narrowing her eyes. Jack was, once again, nose-deep in the compass.

"If you're so curious, you should ask him," Will suggested.

Joanna frowned. The thought filled her with trepidation. "I think not. He'll say something absurd and misleading." She was struck with an idea. She called out as the quartermaster drifted by, "Hey, Gibbs!"

Gibbs obligingly stopped, raising a salt-and-pepper eyebrow. "The compass," Joanna prompted.

"How'd Jack come by it?" Will extrapolated; not what Joanna would have followed up with, but it would suit.

"Ah, not a lot's known 'bout Jack Sparrow 'fore he showed up in Tortuga with a mind t' go after the treasure of Isla de Muerta." Gibbs smiled fondly, fiddling with the cap of his flask. As he lifted it to his lips, he added, almost as an afterthought, "That was before I knew 'im. Back when he was captain of the Black Pearl."

There was a long pause in which Joanna and Will fought to keep their jaws off the deck.

"What," Joanna finally managed. Gibbs seemed to choke a bit on his drink.

Will cast his eyes to the bridge, to the enigma himself. "He failed to mention that," he murmured.

Having recovered, Gibbs explained. "Well, he plays things closer to the vest now. And a hard-learned lesson it was." He dropped to sit on a nearby crate, signaling for Joanna and Will to do the same. Still roiling in dismay, Joanna dragged Will to sit.

"See, three days out on the venture," Gibbs began conspiratorially, "the first mate comes t' him and says, everything's in equal share, that should mean the location of the treasure, too. So Jack gives up the bearings." Gibbs leaned closer, eyes gleaming with the thrill of storytelling. "That night, there was a mutiny."

Joanna and Will listened with wide eyes, enthralled by the truth of a man seemingly composed of legends and hoodwinks.

"They marooned Jack on an island an' left him to die," Gibbs continued. He finished with relish, "But not before he'd gone mad with the heat!"

Will processed this. "So that's the reason for all the..." He crossed his eyes and waved his hands in an unfortunately accurate impression of Jack. Joanna swallowed down what would be an inappropriately-timed giggle.

Gibbs shook his head. "Reason's got nothing to do with it. Now listen --" Gibbs lowered his voice, and Joanna felt as if she and Will, two outsiders, were being let in on a trade secret. "When a pirate's marooned, he's given a pistol with one shot. Well, that won't do much good hunting or t' be rescued. But after three weeks of a starvin' belly an' thirst..." Gibbs bent his fingers into an imitation of a gun. "That pistol starts to look real friendly."

Unable to help herself, Joanna shivered. "But Jack's here, now," she pointed out.

"Aye, he is," Gibbs said resolutely; almost proudly, Joanna thought. "Jack escaped the island, an' he still has that one shot. Oh, but he won't use it, save for one man. His mutinous first mate."

Will and Joanna arrived at the same conclusion at the same time. "Barbossa." They chorused.

Gibbs nodded, smiling grimly. "Aye."

The three of them shared a moment of silence, stewing in a story of betrayal and vindication. Finally, Will asked, "How did Jack get off the island?"

"Well, I'll tell ye," Gibbs said merrily. "He waded out into the shallows and there he waited for three days an' three nights, so that all manner of sea creatures became...acclimated to his presence. An' on the fourth morning," Gibbs grinned, "He roped himself a coupla sea-turtles, lashed 'em together, and made a raft!"

The ludicrous explanation broke the spell of Gibbs' tale. Joanna snorted. Will said flatly, "Sea turtles."

Gibbs nodded fervently. "Aye, sea turtles!"

Joanna pictured it in her mind: Jack balanced precariously with one turtle per foot, hair streaming behind him as his regal steeds plowed through waves. She smiled to herself.

"What did he use for rope?" Will asked suddenly.

Gibbs opened his mouth and closed it, looking contemplative. Joanna was looking forward to hearing his justification, but the quartermaster's eyes caught on something above Joanna's shoulder.

She turned to find Jack, standing over them with a pensive expression. "Human hair," was his equanimous answer to Will's question. Gibbs nodded with a sagacious smile. Jack tacked on, "From my back."

Joanna's nose wrinkled -- at the perpetuation of a ridiculous tale, and the implications of Jack's statement.

"Let go the anchor!" Jack yelled over his shoulder ("Let go the anchor, sir!" the crew responded) and said to Gibbs, Joanna, and Will, "Young Mr. Turner and I will go ashore." He then sauntered away as if he hadn't said something more preposterous than he roped himself a couple of sea turtles.

Joanna, Will, and Gibbs followed. "I'm sure you meant Mr. Turner and Miss Brown," Joanna said sweetly. "An easy mistake. In fact, I forgive you for it."

Jack abruptly spun on his heel; with all of her angry momentum, Joanna nearly crashed into his chest. "Your forgiveness is unnecessary, since there was no mistake," Jack said simply. He began gesturing in a purposefully flamboyant way. "It is Mr. Turner's girl that we will be saving, not yours, Miss Brown, unless I have been under a terrible misconception this entire time; ergo, Mr. Turner will accompany me to rescue the aforementioned lass."

Joanna's eyes narrowed. Jack's mannerisms were all in the name of misdirection, she realized. Act like a bedlamite, be underestimated. Waggle your hands, distract your audience. Speak in circumlocution, bury your true purpose.

"I'm coming along." Joanna said firmly, flicking her eyebrows in a challenge. "Miss Swann is a friend of mine, too." Not quite true, but Joanna felt entitled to a few lies. "And I think I've proven I can take care of myself, should danger befall us. If you're concerned for me, that is."

Jack's jaw worked as he and Joanna shared a glare. "Fine," he said, and twirled away from her. Joanna dodged an airborne braid.

"It's okay if you want to compliment my negotiation skills," Joanna told Will as they followed Jack to the longboat.

Will was tense with the knowledge of their impending mission, but he spared her an amused smile. "I'm fine, thanks."

"Your loss," Joanna grinned. She privately hoped she wouldn't regret her headstrong decision to tag along.

~

Will diplomatically pointed out he'd rowed last time. Joanna stated flatly that she didn't want to. So, Jack begrudgingly took up the oars.

Will did agree to mind the lantern, however. Although it was midday, the innards of Isla de Muerta reflected only darkness; no glimmer of sunlight pierced the delphic caverns. The orange light bounced off damp walls and cast eerie shadows. It was silent but for the drag of the oars through still water.

Isla de Muerta had plenty of skeletons in its closet; the lantern's glow caught on a few of them, laid barren on the rocks, bony hands outstretched. Joanna had never seen a human skeleton before. It left her stomach wobbly and unsure.

Will's hold on the lantern trembled slightly. "What code is Gibbs to keep to if the worst should happen?"

Joanna turned around when no reply came from Jack. The pirate raised an eyebrow at her. "Well, Joanna?" He prodded.

She huffed a put-upon sigh. "It's the Pirate's Code, I'm sure," she said. "But I certainly don't know the Code line-by-line, Jack. So if you'd kindly fill in the blanks."

"Consider this your first lesson, then," Jack retorted. Joanna recalled that, according to Jack's last calculations, she was seventy-five-percent a pirate already; she wondered what this 'lesson' would make her. "There's more t' the Code than this, of course, but Gibbs referred t' the particular stipulation of: any man who falls behind, is left behind."

Will absorbed this, then commented, "No heroes amongst thieves, eh?"

Joanna murmured, "It's certainly economical."

One of the oars stuck on something, jostling the boat; Jack grunted a curse as he wrestled it free. "Y'know, for having such a bleak outlook on pirates, you're well on your way t' becoming one," he said, carefully beginning to row again.

Joanna was struck by deja vu as Jack began rattling off Will's piratical sins. "Sprung a man from jail, commandeered a ship of the fleet, sailed with a buccaneer crew out of Tortuga..." He trailed off as he followed Will's gaze, which rested on the gold-encrusted riverbed. Joanna also peered over Will's shoulder, admiring the shine; she would reach to take a coin as a souvenir, but she didn't wish to capsize the boat.

"...and you're completely obsessed with treasure," Jack concluded with a half-smile.

The soothing sound of rippling water faded in favor of scraping as the boat hit bottom. Jack hopped out first, using an oar for balance. He offered Joanna a hand; she debated with herself, but took it, smiling fleetingly in thanks.

Will was remarkably silent in the face of Jack's accusations, which just two days ago would have prompted him into drawing his sword. "That's not true," he said finally as he left the boat, yanking it into the bank as he went. "I am not completely obsessed with treasure."

Uncharacteristically, Jack did not respond; he turned on his heel in the black sand, using an oar as a glorified cane. Will and Joanna exchanged an indeterminate glance. Nevertheless, they followed Jack Sparrow into the belly of an island called Death.

A few winding turns later, the unmistakable sounds of human congregation filled the caves. Golden torchlight licked around the stalagmites lining the path. Jack led them to a particularly long and thin break in the dark rock, spilling over with golden doubloons and pearls.

Jack gestured for Will and Joanna to join him at the natural window. To Will, he said with a half-smile, "Not all treasure's silver and gold, mate."

The window opened into a gaping cavern that positively dripped with gold. Joanna had never seen so much in one place. She was so mesmerized by the sight -- imagine the yards of fabric that could be bought with such riches -- that Will's voice came to her as if in a fog.

"Elizabeth," he murmured, distressed and reverent.

Even dirty, rumpled, and terrified, Elizabeth Swann was possibly the most beautiful girl Joanna had ever seen. It was a thought Joanna had harbored for years and it came to her now as she observed the macabre scene before her -- that such a diamond of high society could be restrained like this, prone over a carved chest of stone, struck Joanna with irony.

The man beside Elizabeth looked like the picture of piracy the Navy liked to paint. Alight with a murderous ire Joanna could spot even meters away, he prowled before the crew like a god, riling them with pretty, harsh words. His face was hard and lined with silver scars. Perhaps his most impressive feature, though, was his wide-brimmed hat, from which an ebony feather oscillated.

"Is that Barbossa?" Joanna whispered, jostling Jack's elbow. She glanced at him when he did not respond.

His black eyes were trained inexorably on the scar-faced man. "Yes," he said in a low, tight voice.

He won't use it, save for one man. His mutinous first mate.

"Punished, we were!" Barbossa cried. "The lot of us -- disproportionate to our crimes!"

His men cheered, each sporting terrible grins. Joanna herself wore a confused frown -- this was ceremonial. Tribal.

"Here it is," Barbossa growled, and kicked the lid from the ancient chest, revealing a bed of shining yellow. "The cursed treasure of Cortez himself. Every last piece that went astray, we have returned -- save for this!"

He jabbed a black finger at Elizabeth's neck, from which a single piece of gold dangled.

"Jack!" Will's fingers shook on the ledge of rock they hid behind, dislodging sprinkles of gold.

Joanna shifted in similar agitation, facing Jack. "What the hell is going on," she hissed, confused and scared.

Jack took Joanna's left sleeve and Will's right, dragging them away from the window. "Not yet," he said to Will, raising his hands placatingly. His dark eyes darted between them. "We wait for the opportune moment."

"When's that?" Will demanded.

"When it's most profitable to you?" Joanna added, breathless with fear -- that everything was about to fall apart, that she'd paraded Will straight into a trap.

Jack collected himself with a deep breath. His face flickered with a mollifying smile. "May I ask you something? Have I ever given you a reason to mistrust me?" He asked as he strolled forward, invading Joanna and Will's space. They tolerated it, squinting with suspicious eyes at Jack's ministrations.

"Do us a favor," Jack pleaded, pressing his hands together, "I know 's difficult for you both, but please stay here and try not t' do anything stupid."

"You want us to stay here?" Joanna said in dismay.

"Jus' so, luv," Jack said, and began backing away, hands raised in the universal request for mercy. "Please," he said, and left them in a swirl of braids and olive coattails.

Joanna and Will stared at each other. "Shit shit shit," she murmured, at a loss for what to say.

"And who among us has paid the blood sacrifice owed to the heathen gods?" Barbossa bellowed from behind them.

"Us!" The crew yelled.

Will seized Joanna's shoulders; she stiffened in surprise. "We have to do something," he urged, low and quick. "Jo, we can't trust him."

She shook him off. "No shit!" She growled, irked by his manhandling. "William -- Will, he's --" Joanna couldn't believe what she was saying, "-- he's got us this far, I think we should wait. He's clearly going in there to do something, so we should --"

"Jo!" Will cut in angrily. "Listen to yourself!"

"I am!" She cried. Joanna swallowed hard. She spoke quickly, in a low and urgent tone. "Will, something is going on here. Something way over our heads."

He gazed at her, hard and unrelenting. "Elizabeth's life," he said, "is at stake."

Joanna realized she had lost the argument without truly understanding the debate. "Will!" She hissed, but he had already grabbed the oar Jack left behind. Without a word to Joanna, he charged after the pirate.

Joanna followed, her heart in her throat.