Tortuga.

Possibly the only place a man like me could get a wench.

They're drunk, they don't give a damn what you look like.

Could be goddamn Davy Jones and they wouldn't refuse you!

Oh, Meredith.

God, how I miss you.

Whatever happened to "in sickness and in health"?

This isn't even a sickness!

But no, you needed to have a perfect spouse,

unmarked by ink or blade.

In other words,

not me.

Ugh, it hurts.

Throbs like bloody hell.

And my eyesight goes in three, two, o—

there it goes.

And here come…tears?

Goddamn hate bloody pirates!

…Gorgeous, raven-haired captain.

Smith, her name was.

Fought like a brute, she did.

…Awfully protective of that bitch, too.

That one goddamn slash hurt more than any injury I've sustained in the Navy!

"It'll heal."

Like bloody hell it will!

My bloody arse, it'll heal.

Hasn't even faded yet!

Thirteen years…

…sure as hell goes by longer with a broken heart.