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Bootstrap still continued to stare at the wall, doing his best to ignore the wounded pirate. It wasn't as if he could do much to help, and at the moment talking was the last thing he wanted to do. Talking meant accusations, accusations meant explaining, and explaining meant admitting that he knew full well what he was doing when he'd betrayed Jack and had done it anyway. But talking was exactly what needed to happen right now. "I didn' 'ave a choice..." he began haltingly.
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Tia still didn't look up from what she was doing. "Tryin' ta control dat which is not mine," she replied tightly. "Go away. 'Tis much harder dan it appears, an' I ne'er attempted dis before in such a state as I am in. Go ask Hec-tor if ye wish ta know where we be headin'."

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"If you were a father, ye'd know I didn't," Bootstrap shot back. "Pretend for a moment that you actually had a family -that you had anyone who you actually cared about more'n yourself- an' tell me you wouldn' have done th' same. He was goin' to kill my son, Jack. I already lost my wife. I'm not losin' him too! I. Had. No. Choice."

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Norrington stood on the deck of the Flying Dutchman, salt waves splashing him and the wind buffeting his clothes about... and yet he didn't seem to notice, or care. His eyes were fixed on the turbulent horizon, gazing steadily towards what he thought to be another ship. And not just any ship. A ship with black sails.

He approached the Captain of this cursed ship, Jones, in his usual calm manner. Stepping alongside him, once again his eyes left the boat and brushed the wild sea, using his telescope as an aid against the brusque wind and sea spray that sought to hide the ship from his gaze.

"They're gaining on us, purposing to catch us no doubt. We will turn about and fight. That's an order, Captain."

----

Barbossa skulked about the Black Pearl, yelling orders amidst the storm, and feeling quite at home. He grabbed the wheel, pushing another pirate aside, and grinning slightly to himself at having complete control once more of his property, gained by rather unorthodox means [even to pirates.]

The trouble he might have felt at the moment was either nonexistent, or cleverly hidden.

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"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

"I chose you o'er my family once, Jack, an' to this day I regret it. Beckett gave me a choice, all those years ago, when we returned those slaves. As first mate, I was considered jus' as much guilty as you, but also jus' as knowledgable. I 'ad two options: I could give information enough to guarantee your hanging an' walk free, or I could share your fate. I still 'ave that brand, Jack. It hasn' gone away. I still 'ave that constant reminder o' what happens when I choose friends o'er family. If I hadn' chosen to be condemned to a pirate's life alongside you, I could've continued t' visit Glasgow as a merchant sailor, instead o' runnin' for my life an' fearin' that if I e'er returned, I'd be hung. An' if I could've returned home, there'd've been no curse, no mutiny, an' no deal with Jones. I could've continued t' support my family with a somewhat honest living. My Kate would've lived, an' my son wouldn't've grown up alone an' wonderin' where on earth 'is good-for-nothin' father had gone off to. I'm well aware o' what my choices were, Jack, an' th' consequences that followed. How dare you think that you understand even one fraction of what I've been through? How dare you?"

Elizabeth figured that Tia would not answer her questions. Curling her lip upward, she rolled her eyes and walked away.

Spying Barbossa near the mast, Elizabeth approached him from behind and shouted over the loud sound of crashing waves, "Barbossa! Where exactly are we going?"

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Norrington stood on deck, still facing the open sea. A sort of bittersweetness filled his heart as he thought about the people on that ship, the woman he had desperately wanted to love, the boy that took her from him. They had had their time. Now it was his time. He looked into the sea one more time, focusing on the Pearl.

With a sturdy hand, he grasped the railing and walked down into the hold. There, he could give the order, he could bring all this to an end. It was his time.
"Load the guns!" he commanded Day Jones crew of mutated men. "Steady...steady..." through an opening in the wall which the cannon went through, he could see the ship being tossed about by the waves, and yet coming speedily upon them. He thought of how much pain that ship had brought into his life, the accursed wreck it had made him, and with a voice cracked in bitterness, he commanded, "Fire!!"

----

Hector Barbossa turned about, and faced the girl looking at her incredulously. Pulling a large telescope from his pocket, he tossed it to her and said "See for yerself missie. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some pressin'--" he cut short, staring at the cannons coming out from the Dutchman, "What the devil?!" he bellowed as the first shot rang out and barely missed hitting them.

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"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

The numerous creatures sprouting from Bootstrap's neck squirmed as he struggled for air. Unfortunately for Jack, however, the years hadn't changed the fact that Bootstrap was the larger and stronger of the two. After quite a bit of struggling, he managed to force Jack off of himself and pinned the younger man against the bars of the cell, not particularly caring how much it hurt at the moment. "Jack! Knock it-"

He was abruptly cut off by the sound of cannon fire overhead. Looking up in surprise, Bootstrap continued to stare toward the ceiling without speaking. "He's still attacking..." he finally muttered in disbelief, releasing his grip on Jack and sinking slowly back to the floor. "The son of a... He made a deal! We had an agreement, an' he's attackin' anyway!" Sighing, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the bars. "S'pose I can jus' write myself off as havin' failed everyone now."

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Bill seemed to notice neither Jack's words nor the fact that water was slowly seeping up through the planks as he leaned against the bars and stared blankly ahead. "He's still attackin' th' Pearl," he muttered numbly. After several moments, he finally looked up. "Jack-"

"Mind the heart."

Bootstrap's eyes darted even further up in surprise as a grotequely deformed figue slowly emerged from the wooden hull. "Not now, Wyvern..."

"Mind the heart," the old sailor repeated resolutely. "No heart means no captain. An' the captain has t' live t' have the heart."

"Wyvern-"

"If the cap'n doesn' have the heart, then who will lead?"

"Wyvern, where is the heart?"

"Always guarded. Can't tell th' crewmen; they'll try to stab it. Hidden away...safe."

Bootstrap frowned as he attempted to follow the sailor's bizarre manner of speaking. "...The heart's here?"

"Hidden!" Wyvern repeated.

"But it's on this ship?"

Wyvern glanced about anxiously before starting to pull back into the wall. "Don't tell the Captain."

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"Belay that order!!" yelled Norrington, over the voice of Davy Jones. His brow arched slightly, shooting a questioning look at Jones.

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Barbossa grabbed the railing and looked out towards the Dutchman, "No, no, this can't be," he muttered under his breath. With a sudden quick step however, he snapped out of the shock, and yelled "Load the guns!! We'll have to fight back!!"

And then, oddly enough at a time like this, he stooped to get the telescope, before continuing to bring the ship around.

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