"Those who live by the sea can hardly form a single thought of which the sea would not be part."
— Hermann Broch (1886–1951), Austrian writer and philosopher, best known for exploring the moral and emotional turbulence of human life in modern society.
Port Royal, 1743 Seven years later.
The Caribbean sun gleamed over the whitewashed stone and bustling docks of Port Royal. Ships lined the harbor proud vessels of His Majesty's Navy, their flags snapping in the wind.
And yet, to Edward Swann, the entire scene felt painfully orderly.
"Another glorious day of being responsible," he muttered, leaning lazily over the balcony railing of the governor's manor.
Behind him came the familiar sound of a sigh.
"Edward, must you always sound so disappointed by peace?"
He turned, flashing a roguish grin. "Peace is overrated, Lizzie. It's the same as boredom, just with better manners."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes a gesture perfected through years of brotherly exposure. "You're impossible."
"So I've been told. Often. By people who later agreed with me."
She laughed despite herself, swatting his shoulder with her fan.
AGentleman Restless for the Sea at twenty, Edward Swann had become Port Royal's most confusing scandal.
He was the governor's son educated, articulate, a duelist with a perfect record and a smile that could charm the coat off a Commodore.
He was also the most likely man in the colony to disappear for days at sea "on business," return sunburned, and pretend he'd been "helping with trade inspections."
He knew every sailor by name, every smuggler by voice, and every secret path along the coastline.
And though he'd earned respect in the Navy through talent and sweat, his heart still itched for freedom.
For the song of the tide. For the legends he'd grown up hearing in taverns especially the one about a mad pirate who once stole a ship from under the Navy's nose.
That morning, Edward was down at the docks, chatting with a few sailors unloading rum barrels.
"Morning, lads," he called. "Any sign of excitement today?"
"None, sir," said one. "Unless ye count the storm that hit last night."
"Storms are only exciting if they kill you," Edward said lightly. "Otherwise, they're just wet inconveniences."
The men laughed.
Then a murmur swept through the dockhands. A small boat was drifting in or more accurately, sinking.
Edward squinted against the sun, shading his eyes.
The vessel was little more than a dinghy with a broken mast. A tattered sail drooped like a defeated flag. And atop it stood a single man tall, swaying, his coat fluttering like he owned the sea itself.
He moved with theatrical confidence, as if the sinking boat were a royal barge.
Edward raised an eyebrow. "Well," he said dryly, "either that's the worst sailor I've ever seen… or the most interesting."
The sailors beside him snorted. "Reckon he's both."
As the boat dipped lower, the stranger adjusted his hat, glanced behind him at the rising water, and with perfect timing stepped onto the dock just as the last edge of his craft vanished beneath the waves.
The dockmaster blinked. "Who are you." how about 5 shillings and we forgot the name." Welcome Mister Smith. As Jack Sparrow walk away he stole the coin purse without any notice except Edward's .
Edward clapped, slow and deliberate. "That," he said, "was the most impressive shipwreck I've ever seen performed as a dance."
Jack turned, eyes narrowing in curiosity. "And who might you be, lad?"
"Edward Swann," he said, sweeping into an exaggerated bow. "Occasional gentleman, frequent disappointment, and admirer of bold entrances."
Jack grinned. "A man of taste, then."
"Debatable," Edward said with a smirk. "But I do have one question, Captain was that boat supposed to do that?"
Jack sighed dramatically. "Ah, yes. The HMS Sinking Grace. Fine vessel, terrible at staying above water. A tragic flaw, really."
Edward laughed outright. "You're either mad or brilliant."
Jack tilted his head. "Why choose?"
The two men shared a smile one of instant recognition. Pirates in spirit, if not yet in name.
Jack glanced back toward the spot where his ship had vanished and replied solemnly, "Of possibilities."
Edward grinned. "You've got nerve, Captain. I'll give you that."
Jack's eyes twinkled. "You've got the look of a man who doesn't belong in chains."
Edward chuckled. "Funny. I was just thinking the same about you."
That night, when the guards dragged a familiar figure down into the cells dripping seawater, grinning like a fox Edward wasn't even surprised.
"Well, well," he drawled, leaning against his cell bars. "We really must stop meeting like this, Captain."
Jack Sparrow looked up, chains clinking. "Ah, the talkative nobleman. What brings you to my humble accommodations?"
"Family drama," Edward said dryly. "You?"
"Occupational hazard."
"Seems we both chose dangerous careers."
Jack tilted his head. "Tell me, lad ever thought of changing professions?"
Edward gave a lazy smirk. "To piracy?"
"To freedom," Jack corrected softly. "Piracy's just what the world calls it when a man decides his life is his own."
Edward's smile faded into thought. For the first time in years, something in him stirred something wild and familiar, like the sound of waves in his blood.
He looked out through the iron bars toward the sea, black and endless under the moonlight. "Freedom," he echoed quietly.
Jack grinned. "Aye. And you, Mister Swann, look like a man who's been waiting for it."
Jack tilted his head, listening. "That, my good lad, would be cannon fire. And judging by the rhythm…" He smiled. "Pirates."
"Pirates?"
"The best kind," Jack said. "The sort you remember or don't, depending on how fast you run."
Edward looked toward the tiny window slit. Through it, he could just make out a black shape in the moonlight a ship, its sails catching firelight as it glided across the bay.
"The Black Pearl," Jack whispered reverently. "Seems luck's in the air tonight."
Edward didn't hesitate. He grabbed the cot leg, wedged it into the hinge, and twisted hard. The metal screeched, then gave way.
Jack blinked. "You've done this before."
"I learn quickly."
"Remind me never to play chess with you."
"Noted," Edward said, shoving the door open. "Let's go."
They raced up the stairs, the sounds of chaos growing louder. When they emerged into the courtyard, Port Royal was ablaze. Cannonballs smashed into rooftops; men shouted orders, women screamed.
Edward scanned the ramparts. "Father."
Governor Swann stood amid the smoke, barking orders to terrified soldiers. "Form the line! Protect the governor's house!"
"Father!" Edward shouted.
The older man turned, shock and anger warring on his face. "Edward? You're supposed to be"
"Imprisoned? I noticed!" Edward cut in. "Get inside! They're coming!"
Before the Governor could reply, a scream tore through the air Elizabeth's.
Edward's blood froze. "Lizzie."
He sprinted through the burning streets, Jack close behind. The night had become a nightmare fire reflecting off the water, smoke blotting out the stars. Pirates surged through the city like shadows, laughing, looting, cutting down anyone who stood in their way.
Edward fought his way through them, blade flashing, each movement precise and deliberate. He wasn't wild he was focused. Years of naval training made him sharp, calculating.
He found Elizabeth on the cliffside near the mansion, surrounded by two pirates. One had her by the arm; the other raised his cutlass.
Edward didn't stop to think. He fired his pistol one man fell, clutching his chest. The other turned too late; Edward's blade met his, sparks flying.
"Let her go!" Edward snarled.
The pirate sneered. "Pretty words for a corpse."
Edward twisted his wrist, disarming him with brutal precision, and slammed the pommel of his sword into the man's jaw. The pirate dropped.
Elizabeth stumbled free, shaking. "Edward!"
He caught her, pulling her close. "You're safe, Lizzie. It's over."
Jack appeared, slightly out of breath, his sword drawn. "You two do realize this entire city's on fire, yes? Thought I'd check before we have tea."
Edward glanced back toward the mansion. "Father he's still at the fort!"
They ran back through the smoke. Governor Swann had been cornered by a group of raiders near the courtyard gate, his sword trembling in his hand. Edward barreled into the fight, slashing one across the arm and throwing another into the wall.
"Edward!" the Governor gasped. "You're supposed to"
"Not die? Working on it!"
Jack grinned, parrying a strike. "He's got your stubbornness, Governor. You must be proud."
"Hardly the word I'd use!"
Together, they fought until the pirates retreated, driven back toward the docks as the Pearl's cannons fell silent. The ship began to pull away into the mist, its black sails glinting faintly in the moonlight.
Edward stood panting, blade in hand, smoke curling around him. The night was finally quiet again broken only by the crackle of dying fires and the lapping of waves.
Governor Swann placed a trembling hand on his son's shoulder. "You saved us, Edward."
He met his father's eyes, surprised by the softness there. "I wasn't about to let anyone take my family."
The Governor swallowed hard. "Perhaps I've misjudged you."
Edward gave a faint, tired smile. "It happens."
Later, after Elizabeth was safely asleep and the fires had been put out, Edward walked alone through the quiet halls of the mansion. His mind replayed the chaos again and again the roar of cannons, the glint of black sails.
When he reached his room, he noticed something glinting faintly by the window a small golden coin lying on the floor.
He bent down, picking it up. It was heavier than it looked, engraved with a skull.
"She must've dropped this," he murmured, brushing away the soot. The metal was ice-cold to the touch.
"Good they didn't get their hands on it.." I need to hide until I think on what to do next.
He went to his desk, knelt down, and pried up the loose floorboard he'd used since boyhood to hide rum and letters. He placed the coin beneath it carefully, then pressed the wood back into place.
"There," he said softly. "Safe and sound.Out of sight out of mind as they say." I need sleep and rest." I know they left only because they couldn't find the coin. It is not safe here I'll do something about it tomorrow.
Outside, the night had gone still again. But far out on the black water, the sea whispered a different promise one of gold, curses, and fate.
And in the silence of his room, the cursed coin gleamed faintly in the dark.