"We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master."
— Ernest Hemingway (1899–1961), American novelist and adventurer. Hemingway's words remind us that even the most capable must stumble before they rise; no man earns mastery without scars to show for it.
The morning after the attack was too quiet.
Port Royal had survived the night, but not without fear. The docks smelled of smoke and gunpowder; soldiers marched in tense patrols, and whispers of "ghost pirates" slithered through the alleys like rats avoiding the sun.
Inside the Governor's mansion, Edward Swann stood at his window, the calm sea mocking him with its serenity.
Elizabeth was safe shaken, but alive. His father had doubled the guards around the house, insisting nothing like that night would happen again.
Edward, however, knew better.
He knelt, pried up a loose floorboard, and retrieved the small cloth bundle hidden beneath. Inside lay a single gold coin lays heavy, gleaming, and wrong in his hands.Even now, it pulsed faintly in the candlelight, as if alive.
He didn't need a curse to tell him what it was. He already knew the story. He'd seen this world before, sitting in a movie theater in another lifetime.
And if things followed the same path, this coin would call the Black Pearl back again.
He clenched it in his fist. "Not this time."
He tucked it back under the floorboard, heart hammering as if he could feel the curse breathing below.
Later that day, the clang of hammer and anvil echoed from the blacksmith's forge. Edward ducked under the lintel, the smell of soot and steel filling his lungs.
Will Turner looked up from his work, his shirt damp with sweat, hair tied back, eyes sharp as the blades he forged.
Will tried to hide a smile but failed. "How is she?"
"Recovering," Edward said softly. "Though Father's already arranging her engagement to Norrington again. I'm sure you've heard."
Will's hammer froze mid-swing. "…Aye. I heard."
Edward's tone darkened, though his eyes held a hint of mischief. "Between us, I'd rather see her with a man who earnshis place than one who polishes medals."
Will blinked. "You mean that?"
Edward grinned. "I do. But you'll have to prove me right."
Will frowned, uncertain. "How?"
Edward leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Come with me."
"Come with you where?"
"To find the men who attacked us. The ones who sail under a black flag with a screaming skull."
Will set his hammer down slowly. "You mean the Black Pearl."
Edward nodded. "They're after something. Something they didn't get last night. And if they come back, they'll burn Port Royal to ash to find it."
Will hesitated, torn between duty and desire. "And what could I possibly gain by chasing pirates?"
Edward's smirk softened into something sincere. "You want to prove you're worthy of Elizabeth? That you're not just some poor blacksmith's apprentice with a dream? Then prove it. To me. To my father. To her."
Will stared at him for a long moment then nodded, resolve hardening in his eyes. "When do we leave?"
Edward smiled faintly. "Soon. But first…"
He turned toward the window, where the sun dipped toward the horizon. "We'll need a ship. And a captain who knows how to find one cursed crew."
Will's brow furrowed. "Captain Sparrow?"
"The very same," Edward said, amused. "Though I believe he's been reacquainted with our local prison."
Will groaned. "You can't be serious."
"I'm always serious," Edward said, then grinned. "Sometimes."
That night, Port Royal slept under a silver moon. The air was still except for the murmur of the sea.
Two shadows moved through the courtyard of the fort silent, quick, and entirely out of place.
"Remind me," Will whispered, "why am I sneaking into a fort to rescue a pirate?"
"Because," Edward whispered back, picking a lock, "I'd rather deal with a pirate who owes me than a Navy that doesn't."
The lock clicked. The heavy door creaked open.
From within the dungeon, a familiar, drawling voice floated through the dim torchlight.
"Ah, Mister Swann! Back again to liberate me from these unjust circumstances?"
Jack Sparrow lounged against the bars like a cat caught napping on stolen silk.
Edward smirked. "You really have a talent for getting arrested, Jack."
"Practice makes perfect," Jack said cheerfully. "Though, to be fair, I was only borrowing that ship."
Will folded his arms. "Borrowing implies returning it."
"Semantics, lad. Nasty habit."
Edward crouched by the lock. "You're lucky I'm in a generous mood."
Jack tilted his head. "And what do you get out of this act of charity, hmm?"
Edward smiled thinly. "You, a ship, and a direction. The Black Pearl."
Jack's eyes gleamed. "Now we're speaking my language."
A final click freed the door. Jack stepped out, stretching his arms dramatically. "Ah, freedom! Smells like salt, gunpowder, and bad decisions."
"Fitting," Edward said, glancing toward the stairs. "Come on before someone decides to shoot us for treason."
As they slipped out into the night, Jack whispered, "So, what's your plan, lad?"
Edward grinned. "Simple. We steal a ship."
Jack smirked. "I do like your style."
Will groaned softly behind them. "I have a terrible feeling I'm going to regret this."
Edward clapped him on the shoulder. "Probably. But you'll look heroic doing it."
The three vanished into the shadows, the sea wind carrying faint laughter between them.
And somewhere out on the open ocean, the Black Pearl sailed beneath a blood-red moon the hunt already waiting for them to begin.