Little Will tore his fascinated gaze from the water to squint into the mist, having entirely forgotten about his absent mother and father. "Jack?" he piped up in sudden excitement, voice high and carrying over the rest. "Captain Jack? Where?"

It was hard not to be somewhat fascinated by the eccentric pirate, but when one was ten years old and was already discovering an innate love for the sea, his fascination was almost bordering on adoration. Jack's every word, in small William's opinion, was something to hang on. "Is Mister Gibbs with him, gran'pa? Why are they in a little boat?"

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"Oh, what a bloody mess. Mr. Gibbs, look where ye've gotten us now." Still muttering under bated breath and pondering why in the world Poseidon would stash his beloved trident with the importunate whelp, William Turner, Jack consulted his compass for the umpteenth time just to make certain it hadn't changed its mind between now and ten seconds ago. It hadn't. All right, so maybe it was good judgement. After all, the importunate whelp had demonstrated himself to be quite the fortuate victim of serendipity.

He summoned every ounce of dignity he had left - dinghy and all - and stood up. His boots, landing in the bottom of the boat, made an audible splash. Oh, so there was a leak. Interesting, that. His arms pinwheeled, and the resulting dramatic effect nearly tipped the dinghy over.

"Oy! It's me!" He stabbed his thumbs into his chest. "Captain Jack Sparrow! Ye know... best mate, vigilante, savior o'the common welfare! What say ye let me scurry aboard tha' lovely ship o'yers, eh?" He simultaneously managed to flash a disarming grin and make a face at the dinghy.

-----

It was miserable weather. Storm clouds bordered the horizon. The seas were capped in misty haze, making navigation difficult for any average ship. Much to the fortune of all, The Earth Shaker was no average ship. Magnificent, invulnerable, she sailed the seas like a swordfish, her prow slicing through the darkening waves with an impunity that defied the threatening weather.

She's almost as glorious as having the ship of my own back, reflected Heilong Li as he stood, feet braced, at the helm. He leaned into the rhythmic rolling of the deck and tilted his head, letting the wind pull his ebony mane back and caress its face with infinitesimal droplets of mist. His headings were straightforward enough - sail into the rising sun, as Captain Poseidon had put it. Simple command. No explanations given. Li's skeptical nature would have marked this as weakness in any other captain, but, like the ship, Poseidon had proven himself to be quite outstanding from other captains.

His mentioning of the legendary city of Atlantis had testified that.

Atlantis. What a strange phenomenon for any pragmatic mariner to believe in. Granted, Poseidon trusted his first mate enough to allow him a glimpse of the charts, which looked authentic enough in their depiction of - what was it again? A land route to Atlantis? How was that possible? The city was underwater! But Li was intelligent enough to keep his skepticism to himself. Captain Poseidon was after something - a trident - and if he believed Atlantis was a link in helping him find it, respect restricted Li from questioning it.

"First Mate Li!" The thump of running feet on the deck. Li turned to see one of the crewmembers bounding onto the quarterdeck. "A ship, sir, on portside!"

Li frowned and, leaving the helm to the man, went to take a look. The spyglass he held up to his eye wandered, blurred, focused... There. A ghost in the mist, just distinctive enough to show... His eyes widened.

Three minutes later found him knocking on the door to the captain's cabin. "Captain Poseidon," he called, his English lightly accented as always. "A ship has been spotted. She flies the black sails."

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The already unstable dinghy tottered insecurely with the Captain's wobbly weight trying to balance on either side of it. Gibbs looked upward, squinting in the sun to see - oh. A very dirty, smelly, drunken Capt'n. How ordinary.

The boat tilted again to the left side, waves lapping up, water coming in through the numerous holes in the bottom. Rather unceremoniously, Gibbs tried to unpresumptously poke Jack in the leg. "Cap'n, she's going to collapse." Jack ignored him. "Cap'n, she's going to collapse!" he added a bit louder, staring at the wicked waves leaping up around the sides of the dinghy. Again, she tottered, and this time Jack lost him balance. "CAP'N SHE'S-"

There were a few odd splashes, and suddenly Gibbs found himself taking a rather unwanted drink of the salt water. He spluttered about unceremoniously, grabbing at air, what was left of the decayed dinghy, and something which felt very similar to Jack's hair.

----------

The Captain of the Earth Shaker made his way steadily to the edge, his crew clearing out before him like the waves before the helm. When his eyes lit upon the Black Pearl they grew strong and eager and steady at once. Without casting a glance in his direction, he gave sure orders to his first mate.

"Sail towards her. Prepare the boarding ramps."

As certain as he was of himself, as certain as he was of the Earth Shaker, so he had known of this meeting. He had chose Captain Hector Barbossa specifically, carefully, among all of the Pirate Lords whom service he could employ in this mission of his. There was one thing about Barbossa that the other Lords either utterly lacked, or fell very short in.

Motivation. It was almost absurd, Hector's obsession with the Pearl; but it was the perfect pawn for his plan. Very few beside himself knew the pirate's true irrational fixation with Sparrow's ship - but he knew. All too well.

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

"I haven' a clue," Bootstrap said in response to both William's queries. He'd never actually met this 'Mister Gibbs' of whom Will had spoken several times, though he certainly knew enough from stories. Jack's current companion seemed to fit the description well enough, though. As to what they were doing in a dinghy, only Jack knew, and Bootstrap sometimes doubted that even the pirate himself knew exactly what the logic was behind his plans. He made it over to the opposite railing just in time to look down and see both men take an involuntary dip in the cool water below.

"Y'look good, Jack," he called down to the now-soaked pirate, deliberately using the same greeting he had eleven years ago, though it was now marked by a more genuine smile. "Can I invite you aboard, or are you content t' swim for a bit longer?"
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Captain Barbossa sat idly in his cabin, tossing an apple back and forth between his hands for a moment before sinking his teeth into it. Maps were spread out on the table before him, but there was no urgent need to look at any of them at the moment. The Pearl had only recently passed back into his hands, one of many such 'exchanges' that had happened over the past decade. One of them would assume command of the Pearl for an indefinite amount of time, until at last the other found a way to reclaim what he considered to be rightfully his. Then they would switch roles until the same happened to the 'new' captain. It had gone on like this for over a decade now, neither one of them content to completely give up the Pearl, and yet neither able to claim her for once and for all. The crew had long since accepted this to be a fact of life, following both captains equally and pretending to not even notice when the command was switched. Barbossa himself had found it almost enjoyable for the first year or two, as it was something to keep him mentally occupied and always on his toes, but he was growing weary of this game. This time, he was keeping the Pearl for good.

A high-pitched screech interrupted Barbossa's thoughts, and moments later Jack (the monkey) jumped up onto the table and deposited a prize in his master's lap. Barbossa examined the object absently and discovered that it was the roughly-carved wooden eye that had long ago replaced Ragetti's old one. Scratching the top of the monkey's head, he waited. Three...two...one...

"Thief!" the frantic cry came, followed by a pair of thundering footsteps. Two pirates barged into the cabin, one looking near the point of hysterics already. "Li'l 'airy-" Pintel's elbow in his ribcage stopped Ragetti from finishing his tirade, but the scrawny pirate did continue to cast dark looks in the direction of the small monkey currently perched on Barbossa's chair.

"Cap'n!" Pintel said hastily, saluting sharply and nudging his companion to do the same. "Ship sighted due starboard, cap'n! Ain't flyin' no colours, neither."

Barbossa quickly got up from his chair and strode out past the duo, absently tossing the eye in Ragetti's direction as he did so. He made his way over to the railing and snapped his spyglass open. Just barely visible through the mist was another ship, ostensibly beginning to steer closer to the Pearl. They weren't showing signs of aggression yet, but that hardly meant anything.

"Ready on th' guns an' hold for my signal!" he ordered sharply. A lesser ship, he would have attacked without thought, regardless of their intentions, but this one at least seemed a formidable opponent. He would not give the order to attack unless it became either necessary or evident that they would triumph. Until then, they would wait.

Why did this sort of thing always happen to him? What an impressive entrance, Jack Sparrow, what a wonderful, bloody, wet entrance... He broke the surface sputtering out seawater and flicking a customary glare at Joshamee. "Could ye speak a little louder, mate? There may 'ave been some birds 'n Singapore that failed t'hear ye." He squinted up at the Pearl, and only then did he notice the man aboard. Bootstrap? Evidently he had some catching up to do.

He began pinwheeling his arms again, which resulted in another dip under the waves. He came back up with a ready grin, snorting seawater out of his nose. "Oh, no. Me, I'm fine. Take all the time ye want gettin' me aboard tha' lovely ship o'yers. I'll jus' wait here an' watch m'skin shrivel, aye?" He paused, and when no objections drifted back in the next three seconds, took that as a very compassionate, No, best mate Jack. Come aboard this deck of mine and I'll help you get your ship back.

Smirking to himself, he let strong strokes carry him towards the Dutchman.

-----

"Yes, Captain Poseidon." Li evinced a curt salute and sprinted back onto the quarterdeck, where he reseized the helm. The enemy ship - yes, enemy until labeled ally - was a small blotch of shadow in the uniform gray. Abruptly the mist parted, and his eyes narrowed. From here, the Pearl appeared the approximate size of The Earth Shaker. He'd heard stories about its captain - ghasty stories, none of them highlighting Barbossa's charm. He looked forward to meeting the man in flesh and blood, provided the brush with undeath had left that much intact.

The two ships sliced relentlessly through the distance between them. Right when it seemed they'd collide, Li pulled The Earth Shaker around. "Prepare the boarding ramp. Wait for my or the captain's signal," he barked. Better to first behold the face of the enemy before opening negotiations.

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At least they would be aboard a real ship now, and not just a leaky dinghy smelling strongly of rum-that-disappeared-too-quickly.

Though he lacked Jack's ultimate grace in the water, Gibbs wasn't too bad of a swimmer himself. And as for speed - he'd had plenty of practice in his numerous misadventures with his worthy Cap'n. There'd been times when speed was all that lay between him and death.

Like some great, slightly clumsy herring, he finally made his way to the side of the Dutchman, and just as he took the rope let down in his hands - visions of dry clothes, food, and rum clouding his vision - he heard a rather nasty coughing sound at his side.

"Sorry Cap'n," he muttered apologetically, and pushed the rope towards Jack.

-----------------

Taking a long, and deeply satisfying stare at the ship before them, Poseidon's mind seemed to wander elsewhere. To another place, another time.

At his side was Amphitrite, her thin frame not foreign to the nymphs who charmed the sea like a lover. They shared a passionate kiss between them, before her nimble fingers moved towards the hand that held his trident. She smiled coyly at him.

"They can never forget," he said, in his powerful, authoritative way, but just a hint of gentleness seeping through his voice. "This is all mine, I have created and I have destroyed. I am the proprietor, I am the keeper! And I would die before I knew the sea to bow to any other!"

Captain Hector Barbossa. There, on the deck. The Captain of the Earth Shaker emitted a pleased sound, and turned to face his first mate again. "Come with me. I would have you meet this Captain of the Black Pearl. Take in every aspect of the ship that you can - it may prove useful to us if all goes well."

He signaled the crew, and they planked down the ramp immediately. This was it.

Let negotiations begin he thought, and took a steady pace on the ramp, towards the opposite ship.

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

Little Will heaved on the rope trailing from behind Bootstrap in all seriousness, but was (unsurprisingly) unable to move it. He ran to the railing instead. "Did Barbossa get the Pearl again?" he inquired of the wet Jack below, unmindful of his somewhat bedraggled state. "Last time you visited you had it, di'nt you? Did he mutiny again? Will you tell me?"

The fact that Jack was around, and his mother was not, was something to be exploited in William's mind. He'd never heard much about mutinies before, only snatches of story hastily put to a stop by Elizabeth. "Mama's resting with Papa, will you tell me? Now?"

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