"Don't keep us waiting, Miss Brown," Barbossa called mockingly. Joanna hated hated hated him. Suddenly, she understood Jack's desire to place a bullet in his head.

Joanna stood rigid on the edge of the Pearl's deck, eyes fixed on the plank she was supposed to board. It was either brave the drop and the swim or die here. Elizabeth did it just fine, Joanna reminded herself, glancing at the girl in question. Well, she'd required a bit of a push, but she seemed alright now; Elizabeth was bobbing steadily away from the Black Pearl, occasionally casting a regretful glance to the dark ship. She could swim.

If the bloody governor's daughter could walk the plank, so could Joanna. Slowly, nervously, she took baby steps onto the wobbling slab of wood. Her head still ached from the blow she'd been dealt. It was terribly hot. Her wrists chafed from their bonds. She was terrified. Her vision wavered.

The pirates were lobbying insults at her, hooting catcalls that varied in depravity. Joanna looked fearfully over her shoulder. She saw Will, pale and still struggling against his captors, and Jack, dark-eyed and serious. He offered her a solemn nod.

Reassured, Joanna looked forward. She beheld the water. She gritted her teeth, took a deep breath, and stepped off.

The water was pleasantly cool, but pleasure was the furthest thing from Joanna's mind. She forced her body to go limp and was rewarded by its buoyancy. She wriggled, spinning so she faced the surface, and waited impatiently for her body to reach daylight. Her lungs were tightening.

It's too far. It's too far! Joanna clamped her teeth together. Her toes twitched restlessly. She had to wait, she had to be patient.

Finally, finally, her body broke the surface. Joanna breathed greedily the air she often took for granted. Gritting her teeth and determinedly not looking back, she tentatively kicked her feet.

She felt herself glide. It was best if she kicked with her whole leg, she realized, not just her knees. Emboldened, she began inching through the water.

Joanna was jolted from her single-minded focus by a resonant splash. Hesitantly, she raised her head. Ripples disturbed the sea beneath the gangplank and a dark shape stirred beneath the waves. Jack.

He did not immediately surface. Joanna wondered if he was alright, but her lower half was sinking. She quickly dropped her head to rest against the water.

She was startled a few moments later when Jack suddenly surfaced beside her. Like Joanna, he drew several grateful breaths.

"Darling, you are a remarkably quick learner," were his first words.

Joanna couldn't help a smile. She paddled her feet and tried her best to look at him. "Is that your sword and pistol?" She asked, noticing what he had clutched to his chest.

"Aye," he said. "An' the bastard that bound me hands was right incompetent. These're slipping right off."

"Lovely," Joanna replied, risking another glance at him. He was shaking his arms, coaxing the ropes from his wrists. "How far is it?"

Jack glanced over his shoulder. "Jus' keep swimming, dear."

Joanna squeezed her eyes together and sighed. Just then, a particularly swarthy wave crashed over them; Joanna sputtered and panicked, feeling herself go under.

"Got it!" Joanna heard Jack announce triumphantly. Distantly, she also heard him call, "Joanna!"

An arm found its way under her shoulders and thrust her to the surface again. Joanna nearly cried in relief but kept her head, aware doing so would keep her alive.

"There you go, luv," Jack encouraged her. Joanna glanced bitterly at him -- appreciative of his kindness but miffed by his skill. Jack moved through the water as if he were one with it, slipping through the waves like Poseidon himself.

"D'you think you could undo mine?" Joanna asked once she'd caught her breath, gesturing with her bound hands.

Jack considered it. "Sure, but we'd hafta stop moving."

Joanna ceased her tentative kicks. "Go ahead, then."

Jack carefully set his blade, pistol, and ropes on Joanna's belly. He kept one eye on those and one eye on Joanna's bonds, which he hastily fiddled with.

"How're you swimming upright like that?" She wondered, amazed by his multitasking. She struggled just to keep her body mobile.

"'s called treading water," Jack answered. His face was pinched, as if it was hard to do so and hover over Joanna. "Jus' kicking me legs. There you go," he said, dragging the rope away. Joanna immediately flexed her hands and plunged them into the water, relieved she had them for balance.

"Thank you," she said fervently. She handed him his things and took her former bonds back in exchange. "We're keeping these?"

"You never know what'll be useful," Jack replied with a grim smile. "We're marooners, now, Joanna."

Joanna didn't want to be reminded. The thought made something heavy settle in her chest.

Jack called her back from her thoughts, asking for her attention; she complied, and he showed her how to perform a swim stroke called doggy-paddling. A silly name, but it was simple enough to copy. Joanna turned over on her stomach, cupped her hands, and pushed resolutely through the water.

When Joanna's feet touched terra firma, it was a benediction. She could have sobbed with relief. She sloshed to shore to join Elizabeth and Jack, stumbling on trembling legs.

As soon as he was able, Jack threw his effects to the sand and faced the horizon. His gaze landed inevitably on the Black Pearl's diminishing sails.

"That's the second time I've had to watch that man sail away with my ship," he said.

~

Elizabeth gave them her back, stubbornly setting out to trek the small perimeter of the island. Joanna supposed she should have felt insulted, but she understood the root of Elizabeth's dour mood too well.

Like Jack, Joanna hung around the water's edge, watching the Black Pearl slip beneath the horizon. She knew Jack was mourning the loss of his ship, but Joanna grieved for one of the passengers. Joanna doubted she would ever see Will again.

"Should we -- should we do something?" Joanna asked tentatively, glancing at Jack. "I've never done this before, but I understand it's your second time around."

Jack dragged his eyes from the skyline. He seemed reluctant to do anything but stand there, allowing his ankles to sink slowly into the sand. Nevertheless, he said, "Aye. C'mon."

Joanna and Jack proceeded to gather a variety of girthy sticks from the spot of jungle the island possessed. They'd need a fire, later, Jack explained, but before that, they could work on drying their clothes. Beyond Jack's somewhat terse delineations, they were silent; Jack was understandably in a sullen mood, and Joanna wasn't much better off.

How are sticks going to dry my clothes, Joanna was tempted to ask, but Jack proceeded to demonstrate. He jabbed two sticks into the sand, kicked off his boots, and skewered them on the makeshift stalagmites. Apprised, Joanna copied.

She divested herself of her "sash" and the belt Jack had given to her, an act of kindness that now seemed so long ago. She carefully laid the sash flat against the sand, hoping the sun would coerce it into dryness, and set the belt beside it.

Jack, meanwhile, tossed his waistcoat to the ground without a care. It landed in a rumpled, wet pile. With a huff, Jack dropped heavily to sit beside his things.

"It won't dry like that," Joanna grumbled, reaching over him to snatch the vest. He watched without comment as she spread it flat beside her sash.

There was nothing else to do. Joanna sat beside Jack, drew her knees to her chest, and glumly contemplated the horizon. "This is terrible," she murmured, her voice thick.

Jack's response was a noncommittal grunt.

She turned her head to look crossly at him. "Shouldn't you be wading in the shallows? Getting those sea turtles 'acclimated to your presence'?"

Jack deigned her with a hard glance but said nothing.

So they sat in silence, only broken by the faint sounds of Jack fiddling with his gun. He loaded and unloaded it; held it up to the light; scrutinized the bullet as if it had done him wrong. Joanna alternated between studying the aqua waves and his fidgety ministrations.

The gentle scraping of feet against sand announced Elizabeth's arrival. She held her skirt in one hand, using the other to comb stiff, golden hair from her face.

Timidly, Joanna looked up at her. "Hi."

Elizabeth nodded in reply, her jaw tight. She paused in front of them, looking out to sea.

Jack spoke, suddenly; the first thing he'd said in many minutes. "It's not all that big, is it," he mused, gazing at the bullet clutched between his pointer finger and thumb.

Elizabeth faced Jack, her mouth a thin line. "If you're going to shoot me, please do so without delay."

Joanna's eyebrows climbed into her hairline. While Joanna and Elizabeth had met Jack in a similar manner, i.e. Jack pointing a gun at their heads, Joanna had the luxury (or misfortune) of spending several days with him. Unlike Elizabeth, Joanna knew Jack was pragmatic and resourceful rather than violent and bloodthirsty.

Jack's eyes narrowed. He leaned forward, raising his eyebrows in a challenge. "Is there a problem between us, Miss Swann?"

Elizabeth's eyes sparked. "You were going to tell Barbossa about Will in exchange for a ship."

"We could use a ship!" Jack retorted, bitter and correct. "The fact is, I was going to not tell Barbossa about bloody Will in exchange for a ship," Jack carried on, waving his gun around as he ranted. Joanna eyed its trajectory nervously. "Because as long as he didn't know about bloody Will, I had something to bargain with. Which now no one has! Thanks to bloody, stupid Will." Jack ended with finality, shoving his feet beneath him and surging to his feet.

"Oh." Elizabeth said quietly. She looked chagrined.

"You really weren't going to?" Joanna roughly cut in, recalling her and Jack's altercation at Isla de Muerta. He had plainly told her the Black Pearl was worth more than her own life. She squinted at Jack with skepticism. "You really weren't going to trade Will."

Jack shoved his pistol into his weather-beaten sash, glaring down at her. "I really wasn't."

There was a pause. Elizabeth said obstinately, "He still risked his life to save ours."

"Ha!" Jack barked. He twirled to stalk up the beach.

Joanna and Elizabeth exchanged a tenacious glance. Elizabeth extended a hand; Joanna grasped it and was pulled to her feet. In step with each other, they followed Jack.

"We have to do something to rescue him!" Elizabeth protested as they approached Jack's heels.

Jack whirled around so rapidly that Elizabeth and Joanna almost crashed into him. "Off you go, then!" He said to them, flapping his hands in a shooing motion. "Let me know how that turns out."

Joanna ached even at the mention of Will's name, but she had to concur with Jack. There was no way off this island. The sorrowful thought struck her once more: I'll never see Will again. Mullish with grief, Joanna remained mute and watched as Elizabeth tore into Jack.

"But you were marooned on this island before, weren't you?" Elizabeth accused Jack, who persistently marched ahead of them. "We can escape in the same way you did then."

Jack spun on a dime and scowled enthusiastically at Elizabeth. "To what point and purpose, young missy?" He snapped. He swallowed, calming marginally. "The Black Pearl is gone. And unless either of you has a rudder and a lot of sails tucked away -- unlikely," Jack brazenly cast his eyes over the worn, tired clothing sported by Joanna and Elizabeth (they both scowled), "Young Mr. Turner will be long dead by the time you reach him."

It was such a careless way to speak of someone so important. Quietly, Joanna bit out, "Don't be an ass." Jack made a face at her before striding away.

"You're Captain Jack Sparrow," said Elizabeth, gaping in disbelief as Jack sidled up to a palm tree and tapped his knuckles against it. "You vanished from under the eyes of seven agents of the East India Trading Company --"

Without acknowledgment, Jack took four large, wobbling steps. Joanna gaped at the scene before her -- Elizabeth, proclaiming the highlights of Jack's track record with the energy of a spitting firework, while Jack pranced around knocking on trees and kicking sand.

"You sacked Nassau Port without even firing a shot!" Elizabeth continued, glowering at Jack as he jumped up and down on a pool of sand -- to Joanna's surprise, the sand wobbled suspiciously beneath his feet.

Joanna's bullshit-sensor was tingling. Over Elizabeth's shoulder, she asked, "How did you escape last time?"

There was a long silence as Jack finally acknowledged their badgering. His sharp gaze flickered between them. Elizabeth was sharing his bit of loose sand, looming over him with sheer force of will; he eased her away gently, hands on her upper arms. "Last time," Jack began reluctantly, his voice bitter, "I was here a grand total of three days, alright?"

He crouched and scraped through the sand, his fingers catching on a handle. Shocked, Joanna and Elizabeth observed the revelation of a large hatch. "Last time, the rumrunners used this island as a cache." There were stairs leading into the dark pit. Jack clambered down without hesitation. "Came by, and I was able to barter passage off. From the looks of things, they've long gone out of business." Nevertheless, Jack's hand emerged from the black, triumphantly clutching a foggy bottle of rum. "Probably have your bloody friend Norrington to thank for that."

"So that's it, then," Elizabeth said as Jack emerged from the hatch, a bottle in each hand. Joanna glanced at her -- she seemed like a volcano, bubbling over with frustration and disappointment. "That's the secret, grand adventure of the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow?" She angrily crowded into Jack's space. "You spent three days lying on a beach, drinking rum?"

Jack eyed her warily. He quirked a bland smile, said "Welcome to the Caribbean, luv," and swaggered away. That left Joanna and Elizabeth, gazing at each other over a yawning storage of liquor.

While Elizabeth had been Will's friend, she had never been Joanna's. When Will came into Joanna's life, Joanna was too old and too troubled by her responsibilities and her father to care much for play; Elizabeth, a firecracker of a girl, was a different story. But Elizabeth and Joanna were dissimilar in more ways than age. Elizabeth came from money and privilege; Joanna sprouted from the soot of a smithy.

In short, Joanna had only observed from afar as Elizabeth became a woman. A woman that had surprised her today. Joanna didn't consider herself to be a cowardly sort, but she never would have charged up to Jack Sparrow and accused him of sloth, as Elizabeth did. It awakened in her a respect she had not held previously for Miss Elizabeth Swann.

In silent camaraderie, born of shared frustration and loss, Joanna and Elizabeth set out for the beach and Jack.

Joanna raked her eyes over Jack's strange figure as they approached -- the magenta stripes at his waist, the beads tied into his beard, the lovelocks that kissed his shoulders. "Is there any truth to the other stories?" She asked, both hopeful and piqued.

"Any at all?" Elizabeth added hesitantly.

Jack's face, usually so expressive, shuttered. Joanna realized he was offended. "Truth?" He echoed.

Jack began by rolling up his right sleeve and revealing his forearm. The P brand, pale and salient, was a marr on his deeply-tanned skin. He drew up his other sleeve, displaying the leftovers of severe burning: white vines that trailed from above his elbow to his wrist. Finally, Jack shifted his shirt away from his chest, promulgating a pair of black bullet scars.

Joanna and Elizabeth stared at Jack Sparrow, a relic of adventure and infamy, with wide eyes.

"No truth at all," Jack finished with the hint of a sneer. With that, he dropped to sit in the sand.

Despite herself, Joanna felt chagrined -- she imagined that, had she been shot twice in the chest and survived, she, too, would be insulted by the insinuation she was a farce of a pirate.

"We'll stay alive a month, maybe more," Jack said to the horizon, fiddling with the plug of his bottle. "Keep a weather eye on the horizon for passing ships. But our chances are slim." He drank.

"And what about Will," Elizabeth said quietly. Joanna, impressed by her persistence, cast her a sympathetic glance. "We have to do something."

Jack stared at her for a moment, struck by her resolve. "You're absolutely right," he settled on saying, drawing his pointer finger through the air as punctuation. He corked his bottle and tossed it across the sand. It rolled to rest against Elizabeth's bare feet.

Jack had a second bottle of rum, shorter and rounder than the first. He raised it in a toast, saying, "Here's luck to you, Will Turner."

Joanna quietly said, "Indeed." It was too small a gesture in honor of such an indispensable person.

Elizabeth swept up the bottle from the sand after brief consideration. She uncorked it and joined Jack on the sand, resigning to alcohol's charms as a peacemaker.

There was no bottle for Joanna -- fine by her. Even honoring Will could not persuade her into drunkenness. She sat with Jack and Elizabeth regardless, hugging her legs to her chest. Joanna pressed her nose into her knees and trained her eyes on the waves.

"Drink up, me hearties, yo ho," said Elizabeth.

Joanna leaned around Jack's prodigious hair to fix Elizabeth with a surprised gaze. At the same time, Jack asked, "What was that, Elizabeth?"

"It's Miss Swann," she replied icily. Jack raised his hands in surrender.

"It's from a song," murmured Joanna. She had heard Elizabeth attempt (and fail) to teach it to Will many years ago. Jack looked at Joanna, raising an eyebrow. "A sailor's song."

"A pirate's song," Elizabeth elaborated with a sigh. The smile that followed was both sour and nostalgic. "I learned it when I was a child, when I thought it would actually be exciting to meet a pirate."

"I think it's been rather exciting," Joanna disputed, willing herself into a wan smile. She added softly, "More exciting than sewing dresses at home, at any rate."

"Let's hear it," Jack requested after a pause.

"No," said Elizabeth.

"C'mon, we've got the time. Let's have it."

"No." Elizabeth said with finality. She sighed, looking at her bottle. "I'd have to have a lot more to drink."

Jack turned to Joanna, the question in his eyes. "A lot more," Joanna said in concurrence. She had no intention of serenading Jack Sparrow with broken snippets of a song she half-knew. Actually, she had no intention of serenading Jack Sparrow at all.

The longer Jack looked at her, the more amusement crept onto his face. He offered her his bottle and grinned. "How much more?"