Title: Marooned

Author: Starzangel

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, none of Pirates of the Caribbean is mine. :o( I only borrowed the concept and characters to have fun (but gain no profit) writing this story, which is mine.

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Pirates of the Caribbean




Part One

Lightning illuminated the bedraggled figure shivering violently and continuously, as he dragged one squelching boot after the other across the dark sand. His sodden clothes pulled down on him like lead and an old and battered brown-leather hat dripped from the hand that clutched it. Threads of his long, black hair stuck to his face, which had sticky blood streaked down the right side from an oozing gash on his forehead. A crash of thunder brought tears of pain to the man's bloodshot eyes.

He stumbled over what remained of a burnt wooden barrel and flung out a hand to catch hold of a nearby palm tree. However, the blackened wood broke under his fingers, and he fell to the ground with soft thud.

Groaning, the man dragged himself into a sitting position against a charred crate. Brown, kohl-lined eyes stared out at the churning black ocean beneath the fiercely warring night sky. There wasn't a ship in sight on the agitated waves.

"I hate this flamin' island!" Captain Jack Sparrow muttered, bitterly.

He rammed his hat onto his head, winced and staggered to his feet with the palm of one hand pressed against his throbbing forehead and his other arm waving wildly.

Jack made it into a thick patch of unburned trees before falling to his knees, exhausted. His legs bent under him, he hunched over with his head hung low and hands braced against the sand each side of him. It felt as though a hammer was repeatedly hitting the inside of his head and, any second now, his skull would shatter. Black dots danced in front of Jack's eyes, threatening to swarm and push him from consciousness.

An extraordinarily loud roar emanated from the heavens, which made him start and snap back to full wakefulness.

He coughed, salt water rising to his throat. Gagging and choking led to him retching and emptying his stomach. Groaning again, Jack lay back and stared blearily up at the rolling and crashing dark clouds though the palm leaves. Large raindrops fell onto his upturned face. The cold air offered no warmth and he continued his convulsive shivering.

With nothing better to do, Jack's thoughts miserably drifted back to how he'd come to be marooned on this island again, for the third time…

Captain Jack Sparrow clung to the wheel of the Black Pearl, desperately trying to keep her upright as the aggressive sea tossed her about. Rain lashed down onto the deck without mercy and high waves crashed over the ship's sides.

"Bring down the tops'ls!" Captain Jack Sparrow shouted over the deafening booms from the sky and assaulting water.

Gibbs repeated his order, as the crew tried to carry it out. Eventually, the topsails were pulled down, not that it made much difference – Jack still couldn't gain full control of his struggling ship. The storm was worsening and Jack knew they were way off course even before Anamaria came down from the crow's nest to tell him. With narrowed eyes, he stared out across the stormy sea. As if it were a mirage, palm trees atop a sandy beach appeared through the rain. The island was horribly familiar…very familiar, in a bad, bad way…

"Tell me that's not…oh, Hell!" Jack Sparrow cried, and yanked the wheel to pull the ship hard to port.

There was no mistaking it. This was the view he'd seen twice before while walking the Black Pearl's plank. That island was the same island he'd been stranded on by his mutinous crew ten years ago and again with Elizabeth Swann little more than a month ago. He had never ever wanted to see that beach again.

Almost frantically, Captain Jack Sparrow fought to pull the ship away from that blasted place, his thick hair and the ends of his red bandanna whipped back off his shoulders by the wind.

Suddenly, the sea reared up over the Pearl's bow, paused menacingly at its full height and then came crashing onto the deck, forcing the ship's nose down. Jack was flung ungracefully against the helm, the beads in his hair knocking against the wood. His crew was in a similar state, each of them clinging to what they could. The Black Pearl's bow rose back above sea level and the ship rode the waves, bucking in protest.

Jack fought with the wheel again, trying to tame his ship and find a calmer current. But it was no use. The deck tilted sharply and Jack was thrown from the helm to the deck. He slid on his back until he collided with the side of the ship and grabbed a tight hold of the rail. The Black Pearl regained some sense of the level, as her captain pulled himself to his feet. Jack noticed that his hat had fallen and was being swept away from him. He made a quick grab for it just as the Pearl slipped again, this time in the opposite direction.

Jack's fingers had just grasped the soaked leather of his hat, when he found that the deck was no longer beneath him. He was falling. All he could see under him was the thrashing dark sea. The side-rail of the Pearl came briefly into view. Then instantly all went black.

He didn't remember hitting the water. The next thing he knew he was laying on wet sand, coughing up half the sea from his lungs, with a terrible pain in his head and weakness in his body. He'd looked up to find himself on the one island he really didn't want to be.

At least he still, miraculously, had his hat.

The stormy sky was slowly fading in front of Captain Jack Sparrow's tired eyes, as he slipped from consciousness. Lightning flashed showing the whiteness of his face under his tan and the clouds continued their unruly rock 'n' roll, but the pirate was dead to the world.

"What would ye be doing down there, Jack?" a familiar coarse voice jeered.

Captain Jack Sparrow bolted upright to find himself face-to-face with none other than Captain Barbossa, with his monkey on his shoulder waving a particular medallion made from Aztec gold.