It took another two weeks before the elusive trader finally returned to Tortuga. In the end, Rose and the others decided to take turns staying at the inn or aboard the Barnacle, either the men or the women – that way they only needed to rent one room, and with just two people aboard, the fishing boat did not feel crowded.

When they at last met him, the trader turned out to be a very short, wiry Spaniard, sporting a huge mustache. To their disappointment he had no more silver swords than anyone else.

"Silver is too soft for swords, Señor Sparrow." He shook his head as if Jack was daft.

"Spare me the lecture," he growled. "You got it or no?"

"No."

"Damn."

Meanwhile, Rose curiously examined the trader's shop. It was crammed with interesting objects; jewelry and trinkets of all sizes and colors, teeth that looked like shark teeth (but some seemed suspiciously human too) and skeleton parts that Rose hoped came from animals. On a row of glass shelves were an assortment of bottles with hand scribbled labels, containing ordinary spices like cinnamon, black pepper and ground ginger, but also bizarre stuff such as crocodile dung, bull testicles, powdered mummy, virgin's blood, leopard spots, ladybug wings, dried mouse droppings, the ninth life of a curious cat, colloidal silver, pregnant women's urine, stuck noses and beetle peels.

Jack leaned over Rose's shoulder to pick up a bottle. "What are bull testicles for?" he asked the trader.

"An aphrodisiac, Señor. Makes your first mate stand at attention for hours. Want to buy?"

"Nah. Got no need for that. When I'm done, the ladies usually are too worn out to have the energy for another round." He winked at Rose.

Rose felt her cheeks heat up and went to a shelf further away, feigning great interest in a porcelain shepherdess with a chipped hat while she tried hard not to picture being worn out in bed by Jack Sparrow.

"You're disgusting," said Elizabeth.

"And you're jealous."

"Am not!" She scowled at him. "The only complaint I have with my man is I can't be with him for another ten years."

"Look at this," interrupted Gibbs from a wooden crate in a dusty corner. "Silver ingots!"

"You're getting old, Gibbs. Your memory's failing. It's a silver sword we need, savvy?"

"No, but you don't think clearly, Jack. We can bring these to a smith and have him forge us a sword!"

"Brilliant!" Elizabeth beamed at him.

They purchased the silver bars with gold from Rose's purse – which was becoming alarmingly light – and left the shop with a new purpose.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

There were not many honest craftsmen in Tortuga, whose denizens mostly were either pirates, common thieves, gamblers or dealers of stolen goods, and to their dismay they soon found out that the only blacksmith had been killed in a brawl over a prostitute last month.

"I know another blacksmith," said Elizabeth.

"You just want an excuse to be with your sweetheart again." Jack smirked.

"So what, if I do? We have the silver, he can make us a sword. A fine one, at that."

Since nobody had a better plan the others agreed to try Elizabeth's idea. They returned to the Barnacle with their silver, and while sharing a simple lunch of hardtack and fish soup they discussed how to proceed.

"We need to restock our drink supply before we go search for the whelp. Sorry, blacksmith." Jack fished out a piece of hardtack from his cup of rum and put it into his mouth. Hardtack, or ship biscuits as they were also called, were a long lasting waybread and a very common fare aboard. The brick hard squares were nearly impossible to chew without dunking them in liquid.

"Where to go, though? Finding Captain Turner will be no easy thing," said Gibbs. "The Flying Dutchman spends all of its time underwater, and only ever surfaces when she's collecting a newly drowned sailor."

"That's simple then. All we need is for someone to drown." Jack looked around. "Any volunteers?"

"Not me. I tried it once and didn't like it," said Rose, feeling a chill seep through her at the thought.

"Same, actually." Jack glanced at Elizabeth.

"You didn't drown," she protested.

"I did. In the burning water of the Kraken's belly." His eyes had grown hard.

Biting her lip, Elizabeth looked away without replying.

Rose looked at them, a bit surprised to see Elizabeth so embarrassed and Jack serious for a change. What was that all about? 

Then she suddenly remembered. Jack had spoken about this before, saying that Elizabeth had kissed him, and then chained him to the mast and let the Kraken devour him. It had sounded so strange back then that Rose had not given it much thought, but now she realized it had actually happened. Somehow, Elizabeth had caused Jack's death, and in a horrible way too.

Looking at him, Rose felt a pang of sympathy. Drowning in cold sea water like she did had been bad enough; she could not even begin to fathom what being dissolved in gastric acid would be like. No wonder Elizabeth and he seemed to have such an odd friendship... Actually, it was a miracle they even had a friendship. 

Obviously, Elizabeth must have had a reason for what she did; she was not the murderous type. And she had probably atoned for it by helping bring him back to life again. But still... 

"Maybe we could find someone else drowning," Gibbs suggested, breaking the bleak mood. "Ships are sinking all the time from pirate attacks or bad weather or running aground on reefs. When it happens somewhere close, we can let Jack's compass lead us there."

"More waiting?" Jack grumbled. "This is taking far too long already."

"You don't actually have to stay," said Elizabeth. "I know how to summon Calypso now, and Gibbs can help me sail the Barnacle."

"Nah, I'll come." He fidgeted with his last piece of hardtack. "I'm not all that busy."

Rose regarded him thoughtfully. There was something he held back, some private reason he had for coming – she had suspected as much ever since he agreed to help. But what was it? If he had wanted to steal the Heart there had been many opportunities the past weeks. No, it must be something else.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

To be able to get to the drowning sailor in time – whenever there would be one – they needed to journey north of Tortuga where there was more traffic. Sailing out of Tortuga Bay with the boat's hold full of supplies and rum barrels, they had soon left it far behind and steered into open water.

Gibbs came over to Rose with Jack's strange compass in his hand, and explained to her how the curious item worked. "You see, this be no ordinary compass that just points north," he said dramatically, entering his storyteller mode. "It's enchanted to lead the one holding it to that which he desires the most."

"We should not have brought all that rum then," said Rose sardonically.

"Or attractive women." Jack winked at her.

"Actually, it's frightfully bad luck to bring women aboard, regardless of their looks," said Gibbs, frowning.

Rose rolled her eyes and left the men, finding a seat in the prow together with Hector. She scratched his bristly neck. "Sometimes I feel surrounded by pigs," she muttered into one of his floppy ears.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

After an uneventful voyage they reached one of the popular trade routes, and anchored near an uninhabited island. Then all they had to do was wait.

Rose soon discovered that lying anchored really was no fun at all. It was crowded, it was boring, the pig dirtied the deck and in general everybody just got on everybody's nerves. In addition someone always had to be watching the compass, and though they took turns, it still was extremely tedious to stare for hours at end at a spinning needle.

Because they could not buy anything fresh the fare got a lot more dull too, and after a couple of weeks she was utterly fed up.

The weather had been rough lately, with a heavy wind making the Barnacle toss and turn in the waves and Rose's stomach churn, and that certainly did not help improve her mood. "I am so sick of this sawdust-bread," she complained, looking with disgust at the brown square in her hand. Even soaking it in rum did nothing for its taste or structure.

"You're such a spoiled princess," Jack muttered.

"I happen to be of fine family, you oaf."

"Rude."

As retaliation, she gave him the scorching glare Elizabeth had taught her, where she pictured his underwear on fire.

Imagining Jack with burning pants turned out to be amusing. He could be quite the drama queen, and if something like that happened to him he would probably hop around yelling before making an elegant dive into the sea. The comic images had her smile, which of course totally ruined her glare.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing."

Before he could reply, Elizabeth suddenly cried out in excitement. "The needle, it stopped spinning! A ship is sinking!"

A/N:

Finally some action! :) Do you think their plan will work out?

Image Credits:

Stock Photo.