The sun beat down on the shimmering blue waters of the Caribbean. The high seas, a place for freedom ... of all kinds. The waters went on for miles in all directions without any land in sight by the naked eye. A lone ship, a mighty vessel, cut through the waves, powered by a strong wind blowing against majestic black sails. The ship sailed under secrecy showing only its black sails which may as well have been a warning if not a clue as they were not accompanied by any other marker. The skies were blue and clear with only a few puffy white masses of clouds streaking through the sky on that same stream of wind that pushed the sea vessel along on the tip of it's invisible godlike finger. Although far removed from the dark spirits that once manned her, the Black Pearl contrasted sharply in all aspects to the bright blue surrounding it above and below.

In the crows nest, the Captain with looking glass extended to it's full length took in the surroundings squinting against the lens. As he had been for the past two days he stood at midday, in the best light, hoping for a glimpse of gray and black rock or white sandy beach. A palm tree or even a dock with brick, stone, clay and wood buildings behind it would have been a relief. Instead of relief he found water in deep shades of blue and green with no white surf waves and no more evidence of shore in the forms of vegetation or other odds and ends.

He looked down from his perch surveying the deck of the ship watching the crew members as they strode along the planks of wood nailed tightly together, the heels of their boots clacking against it. They looked humorous from above as if moving in a fashion different from normal now as seen from a different perspective than eye level. The one idle figure on the ship stopped the Captain's glance. His eyes weighed in on the back of the sailor, the pirate, as it were. The lean frame contained in a slightly oversized white shirt the fluffy sleeves cut and rolled up to the biceps on his tan arms. His pants were charcoal bordering on weathered gray from all the sunlight and the bleaching effect of the sea water. The figure rested on his hands pressed against the waist high solid rail of the ship leaning forward. His sight would appear to be trained in looking past the bow where he stood taking in the long expanse of sea ahead. He shifted from one leg to the other causing the faded grey tattered pants he wore to shiver in the breeze.

Captain Jack Sparrow relieved a foot length of chain from the floor of the crows nest, raising his eyebrow and smirking to himself looping it around the rigging that led down from the top of the mast to the deck tied securely. He gripped opposite ends of the chain firm in both hands and took two quick steps high into the air laying both feet on the rail of the basket. Abruptly he stepped forward again, pulling his legs up so he would drop. Skimming down the thick rope he lowered his legs easily hitting the deck on both feet solid. He dropped the chain and made haste with his feet for a quick approach just as the idle pirate turned from the nose of the bow. The captain stopped abruptly jerking his body setting in motion a swish of thick noisey fabric, buttons and beads, and every other adorning trinket, coming face to face with the other man. The captain unabashedly with a stern face let his needing hands move ahead of him allowing them to betray their rough appearance. Delicately weighted fingers touched hips opposite his own softly and more importantly with subtle with subtle grace keeping the appearance of such an action concealed.

"All hands are needed on deck Mr. Turner," the voice of Captain Jack Sparrow came across as clear and concise as would any other words spoken by him, "and none are to be idle. Devils play things they may be and we certainly can't have that,"

Brown eyes locked with brown eyes and the other gentleman let a small smile play upon his lips as his cheeks flushed. A toothy smile of gold met his with no reason to be as coy, without the refinement to even pretend it, already finding trial in a subtle touch. Will Turner eased back from the soft touch of Jack Sparrow trying to refrain from a retort, startled by the daytime dialogue, as well as the contact he hadn't yet prepared for.

"All hands on deck?" Will looked over Jack's shoulder and past the enormous weather beaten leather hat perched on his head noting the crew, those still on the deck and not below, only feigning interest if they were at work at all, "Aye, then I shall join them pretending as though they are obedient,"

"I meant to have you engage in something other than staring out -"

"Aye. Jack you really must learn to specify," Will said with a wry smile.

"About as much as you need to learn to take" Jack looked into his eyes feeling the rough fingertips of a blacksmiths hands covering his wrists and winked pausing before he finished, "orders,"

Will took a step back drawing his body away from Sparrow's hands. He raised an eyebrow in question silently asking Jack into a game, one they often played. He now only belonged in the grasp of Jack's covetous eyes and with one step taken to the side gracefully crossing his feet one over the other he walked around the captain. Jack turned finding himself face to face with the younger man although now the roles reversed. Will's shoulder-length brown hair made wild by the sea breeze blew back when he tugged the small leather cord that held it from behind, offering a better view of his smooth face. Jack's lips parted and pressed together in a gesture revealing his awe at the sight. Will twirled the cord deliberate with each turn he made around his fingers finally wrapping the entirety around his pointer. He lowered his gaze to the cord for a moment and lifted his brown eyes back to Jack, speaking more with his movements than words would ever allow from either.

"I mean it. You're more dull and pathetic than any of your sword blades. Come off it. I say there's nothing worth sulking about here on the Pearl. Savvy,"

Jack folded his arms and watched Will turn and stroll along the deck. Without so much as a look back Will pulled open both double doors leading to the dining area. He stepped inside disappearing from view into the darkness the bright sun above deck couldn't shine into. He shoved the heavy wood doors shut behind him, the noise of their stop against the wood frame sounding with a loud crack. Jack mused over just what conclusions he should draw from the display. Folding his hands fingertips pointed up at his chin he marched forward in silence across the deck. Ascending four small steps he turned to Gibbs to relieve him of the wheel.

"He's not been the same, that one," Gibbs said matter-of-factly nodding toward the doors to the dining room, eyeing Sparrow for a reaction as he reached for the leather flask tied around his own neck, "Not since Miss Swann,"

"His spirits will improve once we reach -"

"Perhaps, the young Turner would do best alone away from prying words and deed?"

Jack glared keeping his eyes fixed on the sea ahead, gently turning the wheel easing it first to the left and then the right, gripping each rung tightly. Gibbs took the generous out given to him and uncorked the flask sipping before turning from the captain taking his leave letting Jack return to his thoughts.