(no subject)
The island where he puts in for the night is tiny and unpopulated, but Jack doesn't mind. He's humming as he lowers the dinghy's sail and anchors her securely in a sheltered little cove, then splashes through the breaking surf to the beach.
Once there, he finds a flat rock and carefully unrolls his prized map once more, then adjusts the inner ring.
"Now where d'ye think it'd be hidden -- makes no manner of sense at all for there not to be one," he explains, although it's not quite clear whether he's talking to himself, the open air, the waves behind him, or any or all of these together. "'Course it's here. Beyond the edges of the map, aye? And seeing as how it's beyond the edges of all the maps--"
Something catches his eye; some small combination of lines that looks like nothing more than a squiggle, but Jack brightens.
"Ah-HA!"
He rolls up the map again and stows it safely inside his coat, then snaps open his compass and eyes it. One step forward, followed by three awkwardly stretched strides to the northeast--
--and then Jack Sparrow grins wickedly and snaps the compass shut once more.
He lets it fall back to his side as he saunters behind a rock outcropping, singing aloud,
"Devils and black sheep and really bad eggs, drink up--"
Strangely enough, the song cuts off there.
Once there, he finds a flat rock and carefully unrolls his prized map once more, then adjusts the inner ring.
"Now where d'ye think it'd be hidden -- makes no manner of sense at all for there not to be one," he explains, although it's not quite clear whether he's talking to himself, the open air, the waves behind him, or any or all of these together. "'Course it's here. Beyond the edges of the map, aye? And seeing as how it's beyond the edges of all the maps--"
Something catches his eye; some small combination of lines that looks like nothing more than a squiggle, but Jack brightens.
"Ah-HA!"
He rolls up the map again and stows it safely inside his coat, then snaps open his compass and eyes it. One step forward, followed by three awkwardly stretched strides to the northeast--
--and then Jack Sparrow grins wickedly and snaps the compass shut once more.
He lets it fall back to his side as he saunters behind a rock outcropping, singing aloud,
"Devils and black sheep and really bad eggs, drink up--"
Strangely enough, the song cuts off there.