Alone on a wide wide sea.

[abidinglaw]

[For some time now one node on the Journal network has been broadcasting an anonymous patch of sky broken only occasionally by the pacing back and forth of a quaking, sea-soaked man. His hair is matted and bedraggled, his arms are wrapped around his shoulders to conserve what little warmth he has. Occasionally there are sounds of a voice straining

Comments

1/?

[lists_to_port]

[Jack has made a questionably comfortable bed of sawdust practice dummies stacked in a corner of the barracks and has just settled in top of them for a nap--the place has been relatively quiet since the battle dome arrived--when a familiar voice emanates from the journal sprawled open nearby.]

2/?

[lists_to_port]

[Well that's the voice of a dead man, isn't it just. Buggering journal.]

3/?

[lists_to_port]

[Madness. Perhaps Bonesy'll give me more of his pills.]

4/?

[lists_to_port]

5/done----VOICE

[lists_to_port]

Erm--------is there someone there, or are you in fact an audible manifestation of some sort of traumatic and or worrisome fragmental bit of memory?

VOICE!

[abidinglaw]

[After all the requisite standing up and checking trees for hidden interloper sort of stuff, a voice does finally come back to Jack.]

Someone is here.

1/2

[lists_to_port]

[It IS him. IT---is him! it is HIM.]

[lists_to_port]

And now it would appear you're doubly washed-up, Admiral. Pity.

[abidinglaw]

Sparrow. I might have known.

[lists_to_port]

Might have known? My guess is, mate, you couldn't have known. Couldn't have even had an inkling of bein' dragged over that dark and cobwebby and macabre threshold of death into this place.

[abidinglaw]

[The Admiral might have argued until sun had set if Jack hadn't hit upon that grim and secret nugget of information - the fact of Norrington's near-death. Belatedly, too, he hears the word 'admiral' echoing somewhere uncertainly in his mind. Though still hard, his expression calms. He can only think of one rational explanation for the pirate's uncharacteristic combination of respect and wisdom.]

I suppose I owe you my thanks.

[lists_to_port]

You owe me a bit more than that, mate, after stealing that heart. But very well: why?

[abidinglaw]

If you saved me from the ocean then I owe you a debt of gratitude - I recognize that. Nevertheless, Sparrow, I would appreciate it if you did not toy with me.

It is enough to be indebted to a pirate.

[lists_to_port]

.....I never saved you from anything, son.

[The words are surprisingly quiet and not filled with the usual bluster. Does he not realize...?]

Where are you?

[abidinglaw]

[James had been assuming that the Dutchman must have gone into a dive shortly after he was stabbed. He would have been carried into the ocean, unconscious, and barring the help of pirates he can only surmise that he must have been born on the waves to this shore.]

I am on a beach, Sparrow. I do not recognize it and there are no landmarks within my sight.

[lists_to_port]

Right. You're in a land, mate, called "Luceti," what I believe is Italian for "land that offers you the heights of pleasure and the depths of pain all on the same platter."

Erm......welcome?