The Siren Song

(Pirates of the Caribbean: Jack Sparrow,

Book 2)
By Rob Kidd

Captain's Log:
Our proud ship Barnacle set sail from Tortuga a few weeks ago. I must
admit Arabella and Fitzwilliam are quite the landlubbers, but things are
improving. We took on two crewmembers, a Creole chap called Jean
and a Mayan named Tumen, when we washed up on what we thought
was a deserted island, after a vicious storma raging beast of one
started by the dreaded Captain Torrents, incidentally.
Alas, we also picked up Jean's raging beast of a cat, a creature he
claims is actually his sister under a mystic's curse. I fought off and, of
course, soon defeated the rampaging Captain Torrents practically
single-handedly, and found a whole lot of treasure. I cleverly deduced
that the magnificent sword is now in the hands of a fearsome pirate
Left-Foot Lewis, and we are making fair speed after him.

CHAPTER ONE
"As we all know," Jack Sparrow began, facing his crew, who stood
before him on the deck of the Barnacle, "the diabolical pirate captain
we are following lost his right foot in battle."
Jack tossed a perfectly polished onyx stone around in his hands. It was
the stone used as a glass eye by the legendary pirate, Stone-Eyed Sam,
and Jack had retrieved it from the lair in Sam's ruined pirate kingdom.
Jack kept it with him at all times as a memento of his most recent
adventure. He thought it might make a nice piece of jewelry: maybe a
necklace or something. He stuck the stone in his pocket as a swelling
wave heeled the deck. Jack grabbed a line for balance, ducked as the
mainsail jerked toward him, then continued his story, hardly missing a
beat.
"The captain, the notorious Left-Foot Louis, swiftly slew his fearsome
boatswain, quickly lopped off his foot, and had it expertly reapplied to
his own leg by the ship's cook, the equally notorious pirate Silver, who,
having recently sailed the high seas with a certain doctor, had
henceforth become skilled in the art of limb-replacement surgery. Only
after said surgery was it evident that Louis, in his panic to get his
appendage back, severed the wrong foot."
Fitzwilliam P. Dalton the third, Jack's aristocratic crewmate, laughed
obnoxiously.
"Oh, rubbish." Arabella, the crew's first mate and a former barmaid on

Tortuga, laughed.
Another wave rocked the boat. Arabella clung to the railing to maintain
her balance. Fitzwilliam landed on his rump, while Tumen and Jean, the
young sailors Jack had met on Captain Stone-Eyed Sam's island,
scurried to steady the ship. Jack, the only crew member who had
somehow remained steady despite the swaying of the boat, scowled.
"Your attention!" he barked. "Your captain is speaking."
"Jack, my friend," Fitzwilliam said, picking himself up off the floor, "you
may think you are a captain, but look closely around you. This is surely
not a ship, and we are hardly a crew."
Jack stepped up to Fitzwilliam. He was a whole head shorter than the
aristocrat, but commanded as much, if not more, respect.
"Question my authority again, mate, and you'll be having this discussion
with Davy Jones," Jack said. "On this ship, you call me Captain Jack
Sparrow."
"Fine . . . Jack," Fitzwilliam said with an uncharacteristic smirk.
Jack huffed and moved toward the bow where Arabella stood staring
out over the bowsprit. Despite her tousled hair and bedraggled clothing,
Arabella looked very much like the lady she was. She had a delicate
face toughened by all the things she'd seen and done.
"Missing Tortuga much, Bell?" Jack said sarcastically.

"Yeah, sure," she responded with equal sarcasm. "I miss me dad
terribly." She ran her hand along the boat's railing and stared dreamily
out to sea.
Jack hoisted himself up onto the bow and swung his legs around so that
they dangled on either side of the bowsprit--the long pole that extended
out over the water. It was a glorious day at sea. The warm sun shone
brightly, making the crystal clear water sparkle. Jack took in a deep
breath, and the salt air filled him with a happy feeling of adventure. This
was much better than traveling as a stowaway, as he had before. And
far nicer to be at sea than scrambling for a crust in the rough-andtumble town of Tortuga.
Jack surveyed the Barnacle. Arabella had settled onto the deck, sitting
cross-legged with her back against the foremast. Her tangled auburn
hair fell in front of her face as she studied Tumen's astrolabe, a
navigational device that used the stars as a way to determine a ship's
position. She seemed deeply engrossed, and for Jack that was a good
thing: the more crew members who knew how to navigate, the better.
Fitzwilliam, calmer now, secured the lines and watched the horizon
while Jean and Tumen went about their duties. And best of all
Constance, the foul-tempered cat that Jean claimed was really his sister
under a mystic's curse, was nowhere to be seen.
Yes, Jack thought proudly, this is a right trim ship. No matter that it was
full of splinters, the sails were tattered, and a few spots in the galley
below and over the berths leaked when it rained.

Jack jumped back down onto the deck and clapped his hands. "Back to
my story," he said.
The crew moaned, but Jack rolled his eyes and continued despite the
protest.
"Upon discovering the error Silver had made, Louis quickly had the cookcumsurgeon-cum-pirate tossed overboard. But Silver was under the
protection of Sirens, who attacked Louis and used their power to fuse
his botched job into place forever. He was clawed across the face by a
Siren's talons, which is why he now has three scars running from his
right eye over his nose to his left jawbone.
"Oh, ye will believe anything," Arabella said dismissively.
Jack swiveled all the way around to face her. "Then, pray tell, why do
you think the man in question has two left feet?"
Arabella did not take her attention away from the astrolabe. "Accident
of birth," she said flatly.
"We are obsessing over the wrong details," Fitzwilliam put in. "Louis is a
dangerous pirate, and we should be concerned with how we will defeat
him and secure the Sword. It will not, rest assured, be easy."
"You're not frightened, are you, boyo?" Jack asked with a smirk. "I
warned you this was no mission for the lily-livered and pampered."
"I should think I have already proven I am neither," Fitzwilliam snapped,

turning his head sharply to glare at Jack.

"No need to get huffy," Jack said. "Any sane man would be afraid of
going up against Louis. So perhaps you're saying you're crazy. Hmm.
That's a bit worrisome."
Fitzwilliam sighed and shook his head. He wasn't going to take Jack's
bait this time.
Despite his arguing, Jack knew Fitzwilliam was right. Louis would not
give up the Sword. Not when it was rumored to grant great power to
whomsoever wields itand omnipotence when it is united with its
sheath. Of course, Jack badly wanted the freedom that having the
Sword would provide. But equally important, he needed to keep the
sword out of the hands of dangerous pirates, like Louis and Torrents
and especially out of the hands of the evil Davy Jones, who was said to
rule the seas.
A gust of wind billowed the mainsail, and the heavy boom swung
around. Jack quickly jumped out of the way, toppling into Fitzwilliam.
They both went sprawling on the deck, and a wave washed over the
railing, soaking them. Jack smoothed his long dark hair and scrambled
to his feet.
"Big wave," Jack said.
Fitzwilliam got up from the now-slippery deck more slowly and carefully.
"Why is the water getting so rough? It was not calm earlier, but it was

also certainly not this violent. And there is nary a cloud in the sky, so it
cannot be that Torrents has escaped and is stirring up the sea with his
storms."
"Perhaps not Torrents, but it could be Louis," Jean said. "Who knows
what power the Sword wields, even without the scabbard? And in the
hands of Louis, a little bit of power will go a long way."
Jean continued. "He is certainly a vicious man, diabolical and fierce. The
only thing about your story that was not accurate, Captain Jack, is how
the pirate became marked with those facial scars."
"Oh?" Jack scoffed. "And how are you such an expert?"
"We met him," Tumen said, returning to his place at the wheel.
Everyone turned toward the helm to stare at Tumen. Then a yowling
sound filled the stunned silence. Constance leapt down from her hiding
place behind the mainmast and landed right in front of Jack, finally
showing her mangy self. She let out an angry but frightened hiss.

CHAPTER TWO
Jack's eyes narrowed as he stared at Constance. The shabby cat's tail
flicked slowly, purposefully, as she stared back. For a moment there
was a standoff. Then Constance let out another hiss; her back arched
and she bared her teeth.
Jean bent down and picked her up. "Ah, ma petite" he crooned to the
flustered cat, petting her matted coat. "My sister is clearly nervous
enough simply hearing Louis's name. Please don't make things worse
for her, Jack. She's suffered enough."
Jack smirked, then took off his bandana and brought it to his chest.
"Please accept my most heartfelt apologies, m'lady," he said to the cat,
with an exaggerated bow.
"Oh, enough already," Arabella said to Jack (and for that matter, to
Constance, too). Arabella gazed up at Tumen, who rested a hand lightly
on the wheel. "What do ye mean, you met Left-Foot Louis?" Arabella
asked.
"Just as I said," Tumen replied. He relaxed against the helm, as the sails
billowed and the ship made a steady course in the sea, which had
calmed down considerably.
"Not only did we meet him," Jean said, "we faced him in battle. We
barely escaped with our lives."
Tumen nodded. "He is a fierce fighter."

Jean petted Constance a moment, then he glanced at Tumen as if he

wanted his permission to tell the story. Tumen shrugged.
"It was not quite a year ago," Jean said, leaning against the rail and
holding Constance tightly in his arms. "We made port in Martinique, and
we were unloading the cargo. Precious stuff, those spices. Worth their
weight in goldliterally. And quite handy to have on hand in the
kitchen." He scratched Constance under the chin. "You do love your
cumin and coriander in your Creole rice, don't you, ma soeur?"
"Get on with it," Jack barked impatiently.
"We were working with the longshoremen at the docks," Jean explained.
He put Constance back down on the deck and she immediately licked
her paws and began washing her face. "They seemed a rough and
rugged band, but they often are, so I thought no more about it."
"That work does tend to attract a hardened lot," Fitzwilliam commented,
nodding.
"How would you know?" Jack asked. "One whiff of the wharf and you'd
probably faint."
"Would you let Jean speak?" Arabella complained. "Go on, Jean."
"Thank you, mam'selle. We unloaded crate after crate," Jean continued.
"The sweat beading on our brows, trickling down our backs. We were
nearing the end of the load, and I was making my way down the
gangplank balancing a trunk on my back. Constance, eager to see the

town, I'm sureshe's always so curious about far-flung placesdashed

between my feet."
"Jean fell," Tumen said.
"Vrai," Jean said with an embarrassed shrug. "I rolled all the way down
the gangplank. And thenthis part is badthe trunk crashed open when
it hit the dock. Luckily, this trunk held none of the rare and precious
spices we were carryingit was part of the silk shipment. So I was
relieved."
"Relieved to have dropped silk?" Fitzwilliam asked.
"Silk doesn't break," Tumen explained.
"Still, anything ruined would come out of my miserly pay," Jean said. "I
wanted to gather up the fabric before it could get dirty or torn."
"I had already begun to collect the silk," Tumen said.
"But then all worries about my money flew out of my mind when I
realized I'd fallen at the feet of the foreman. Mon Dieu! I would catch it
for sure, now. The foreman would complain to the owners, who would
complain to my captain. . . ." Jean shook his head at the memory.
"They don't like their cargo spoiled," Tumen agreed.
"Understandably so," Fitzwilliam said.

Jack opened his mouth to make a wisecrack comment to Fitz, but

noticed a warning look from Arabella and kept quiet.
"Seeing as I had fallen next to the foreman's left boot, I thought the best
course of action would be to move to the right... away from the towering
brute! So I didand slammed into another left foot! I had heard all the
legends about the dreaded pirate with the two left feet," Jean said. "I
had no doubt as to his identity."
"Did he know that you knew?" Arabella asked.
"And more important, did you know he knew that you knew?" Jack
added. "You know?"
Tumen looked at Jack, confused.
"Louis stared down at me," Jean continued. "I gazed up at him, too
afraid to move. In a low, gravelly voice, he muttered not to move a
muscle or make a sound. I thought I was done for."
"I didn't know then what was happening," Tumen said.
"I cannot see that mad pirate allowing anyone to live who could identify
him," Fitzwilliam said. "However did you escape?"
Jean scooped up Constance and cradled her to his chest. "With the help
of my dear sister. Constance leaped into the air and tore her claws clear
across Louis's face. That gave me the chance to roll out from under his
feet. It was she who saved me."

"And well she should," Fitzwilliam said. "She was probably attempting to
make up for the fact that it was her fault you were in such a
predicament in the first place."
"I didn't blame her," Jean protested. "And she scratched him so badly,
he still bears those scars today. So, perhaps Sirens were involved in the
fusing of his flesh, but non, it was my sister who marked him."
"What happened next?" Arabella asked, completely absorbed in the
story.
"I shoved him backward," Jean said, "hard as I could. His wig had
slipped off when Constance had lunged for him, and there it washis
famous bright red hairfor all to see.
"I let out a cry of warning," Tumen said. "Our crew swarmed to the
railing."
"That was when everyone aboard our ship realized Left-Foot Louis had
done away with the real foreman and the real crew. It was his own
shipmates unloadingand stealingour cargo."
"Clever chap," Jack said with a smile.
"Our brave and loyal shipmates piled out of every nook and cranny of
the ship and threw themselves into the melee," Jean said. "It was awful.
Knives flashing, fists flying.
"Then, Left-Foot Louis ripped open his shirt to display his thick chest

covered with strange tattoos that looked like quill markings. He pointed
to me and to Tumen"
"We were fighting side by side," Tumen said.
"and he shouted that he's finished a thousand men and has a marking
on his chest for each one. He swore we would regret that day. He was
going to find us, slaughter us, and he would skin my dear Constance
alive."
Constance's fur puffed out, and she hissed again.
"Oh, don't be afraid, dear one," Jean crooned. "We won't let any such
thing happen." He looked back up at the others. "Louis managed to take
out two members of our faithful crew and escape. We have lived in fear
of him ever since."
Jack whistled through his teeth. "Well, that there is some story. How
much of it is true?"
"All of it!" Jean said.
"He's not lying," Tumen added.
"To my point earlier," Fitzwilliam said, "this only bolsters Louis's
reputation as driven, cruel, and quite mad."
"We can't let him get the Sword," Arabella vowed. "It's too dangerous."

"Isn't that exactly what I said before?" Jack said. "Keep up, lass."
He looked at her more closely. She was a greenish shade of pale and
looked faint. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked.
"I'm fine," Arabella said. She stood and leaned against the railing,
waving him off and facing the water. "It's just a bit of seasickness."
Before they could press Arabella any further, a faint, ghostly sound
wafted out of the water. It held the crewwith the exception of Jack
frozen for a moment. Then, as suddenly as it arrived, the sound floated
out over the sea once more. The crew stirred, as if they were emerging
from a dream, the Barnacle began to rock violently, and when the crew
looked up, they saw before them a tall mountain of an island.
"Um, where did that come from?" Jack asked.
"I can assure you," Tumen said, looking up from his navigational tools,
"that island was not there a moment ago."

CHAPTER THREE
Tumen stepped away from the wheel to make way for Jack. Fitzwilliam
was looking through his spyglass toward the island.
"It is difficult to make out," Fitzwilliam said. "Almost as if the island is
there, but at the same time . . . not. It looks like nothing more than a
cloudy mist through my glass."
Draping his arm across the top of the wheel, Jack gazed ahead. The sun
was making a slow descent, and the horizon was striped in shades of
gold, pink, and purple. "Sail toward it," he commanded.
"Are you mad?" Fitzwilliam asked.
"No. But I am a bit tired of being asked if I am," Jack replied.
"Why would we sail toward it? We have no idea where it came from, nor
what exactly it is," Fitzwilliam persisted.
"Well, Fitzy, when anything happens at sea that is out of the ordinary
like, oh, say a huge island appearing out of nowhere, it would probably
be wise to ascertain that it happened for a reason, and that reason can
often, though not always, lead anyone willing to explore it to great
power and treasure. Besides, I am captain here. Savvy?"
"Aye, aye, 'Captain,'" Fitzwilliam snapped obnoxiously.
"I don't know about this," Tumen said.

Jack just set his jaw, pointed toward the island, and the crew sailed on.
"I guess we know where the rough seas were coming from earlier," Jean
said. "Islands dropping into oceans will probably do that to calm
waters."
Just then the wailing sound started up again. It was strange and
mystifying, but it was also beautiful. At least most of the crew thought
so.
"What is that god-awful noise?" Jack said.
"I think it's pretty," Arabella said, "and so...sad," she continued, clearly
on the verge of tears. The rest of the crew looked completely
mesmerized. Jack looked puzzled.
As the sound died down, the crew shook off the sleepy feeling the song
had inflicted upon them. But before the effects had completely worn off,
the Barnacle began to rock more violently than it had before. And from
the turbid waters around them, like a cannonball fired from below the
sea, shot an enormous roaring beast.
"Kraken!" Arabella shouted, as the eellike body of the beast slapped
down on the ocean around them, attempting to crush the Barnacle.
"No! The Kraken is much larger, has tentacles, and smells like death. . . .
This is something different!" Tumen said.
"But it looks . . . and smells ... no less dangerous," Jack shouted. "Grab

your swords!"
As the crew quickly prepared for action, the monster lurched and
slapped itself down on the water, showing its face. Its huge jaws looked
as if they could easily take a bite out of the Barnacle, and they were
lined with rows of teeth that were set layer upon-layer, like a shark's. Its
ruby-red eyes glared angrily at the crew, and as it hissed it sprayed them
with a green slime that smelled like long-dead fish.
"Oh!" Arabella shouted.
The monster dove in toward the Barnacle, and Jack nodded to
Fitzwilliam. Just as the monster was mere feet away from the boat, Jack
jabbed his sword directly into one of its eyes and Fitzwilliam hit the
beast in the side. A pink fluid sprayed from the eye wound and oozed
out. The creature roared and recoiled for a moment. Laying limply on
the water in what looked like a pink oil slick, it seemed as though the
beast might be down. But then it squirmed its huge body, which was at
least the size of the Barnacle, and straightened itself high in the air,
turning toward the Barnacle and lunging again for the boat.
Jack yelped and jumped back, then with hardly a thought, he jumped up
onto the ship's railing and steadied himself in a ready position.
"Jack! What on Earth are ye doing?" Arabella called out to him.
The creature was clearly in attack mode and Jack was right in its path.
"Going to the belly of the beast," Jack said with a wink, sword in hand.

As the monster lurched forward, Jack jumped off the side of the boat
and onto the creature, grabbing its fins for stability. The crew gasped as
the monster whipped its body around in an attempt to free itself from
Jack's grip. But Jack was holding on tightly.
The creature opened its huge mouth and angled its head in an attempt
to swallow Jack whole. But like an animal trying to lick its own neck, the
creature was unable to reach Jack, who was just beneath its jaws.
"Get the boat away from this here beastie!" Jack shouted to his crew.
"What?" Arabella shouted. She couldn't hear well over the roar of the
creature and the rush of the water. The wound in the creature's eye
continued to leak fluid, and fishy green slime dripped from its jaws, fully
covering Jack and causing him to lose his grip.
"Boat. Out. Now." Jack repeated what he had said before.
"We cannot hear you!" Fitzwilliam said.
Jack's right hand continued to slip off the monster's fin, and in a
desperate attempt to get a better grip, he let go, then quickly grabbed
the fin again, tearing it clean off the body of the beast. The creature
roared louder than it had up till now, and the crew gaped in terror.
"I think we'd better get the boat out of here," Jean yelled to Jack.
"Good thinking!" Jack shouted back, now hanging from just one of the
creature's fins.

"What?" Arabella asked, not able to hear Jack over the chaos.
"Just get going! Go!" Jack shouted.
Then the beast reared up and slammed Jack down on the surface of the
water. Jack was able to hold on, and when the creature broke the
surface again and straightened its body as it had before, yowling like
mad, Jack took his sword, inserted it just below the monster's jaw, and
slid down the length of the creature, cutting the beast in the process.
The thick skin of the creature split open to reveal bluish guts covered in
dark blood. It tossed its head like mad, spraying its green slime all over
the surface of the water, then collapsed on top of Jack.
The water was still for a few moments as the crew watched, stunned,
and waited for Jack to surface. But there was no sign of him.
"Oh, my . . ." Arabella said, putting her hand to her mouth.
Then, suddenly, from behind the ship, a loud splash sounded.
Something had shot out of the water again.
"Jack!" Fitzwilliam shouted, genuinely pleased to see him.
"Who were you expecting? Davy Jones?" Jack quipped.
The crew looked out onto the water where the carcass of the mighty
beast lay in an oily pool of monster juice.
"Well," Jack said, "looking on the bright side, we now have boatloads of

meat for the rest of the journey."

CHAPTER FOUR
The crew sailed away from the butchered sea beast, which sank slowly
to the ocean depths. They were entering the thick of the fog that
surrounded the island which had appeared on the horizon, but the
island itself was miles away yet. The ocean was still and silent again,
the only sounds heard were the creaking boards and the slap of the
waves against the Barnacle's hull.
And then, that other sound again ... the beautiful, haunting, lovely,
maddening sound.
Jack wondered if it could be the howling of sea beasts, like the one he
had just slain.
"Come near my ship, beastie," Jack yelled out toward the ocean, waving
his fist as a warning, "and I'll do to you what I've already done to your
mate."
He stood at the ready, but as he scanned his crew, he noticed that they
were not responding at all. While he was prepared for another battle,
they were slack and relaxed.
Arabella stood at the rail, staring gloomily out to sea. Fitzwilliam sat on
a barrel, pulled his sword from his scabbard and used his neckerchief to
slowly polish it, making long, smooth strokes. Tumen picked up the
astrolabe Arabella had laid on the deck and seemed to be studying the
stars, which was odd, since none had appeared in the sky yet.

Jean petted Constance over and over, the cat lying limply in his arms.
"What is all this?" Jack scolded. "We have a ship to"
His voice broke off, as the sound, floating along the wind, became
louder. It was like a song, but not exactly. There were no words, just
sounds. It was hard to tell if it was one voice or many. And though it was
clearly being sung, the melody wasn't very songlikeno repeated
phrases, no hummable tune. Jack wasn't sure if he was hearing it with
his ears or if somehow the sound had burrowed into his brain and he
was hearing it from inside his head. It was wrapping itself around him
like the tentacles of some sea beast.
Jack threw his head back and forth violently, trying to shake the sound
out. Then he stood up straight, enduring the sound, and cleared his
throat. "Mates," he said to his crew, "it's high time for" He suddenly
ducked as the boom swung toward him.
"Hey!" Jack cried, yanking on the line. "Tumen, Jean. Look alive there,
mates."
The two able-bodied seamen ignored him, so he left the helm to lash
the rope to the cleat at the stern, making a tangled mess of the excess.
"I'll fix that later," Jack muttered. Thwack! Jack jumped at the sound of
all three sails suddenly furling.
"What the--" he sputtered, wondering how he would set them right all at
once. He strode to the center deck. "Jean, Tumen," he barked, "trim the

jib and the foresail. Arabella, Fitz, you tackle the main." No one moved.
Whomp! Jack jumped again and stared up incredulously as the sails
unfurled, returning to their proper positions.
Something had clearly taken control of the shipsomething powerful
and invisible. Could it have something to do with the strange song? Jack
wondered. "Well, at least the sails seem to have sorted themselves out.
More than can be said for you lot!" Jack said, glaring at his crew.
He opened his mouth to deliver a severe tongue-lashing, but then
noticed the wheel at the helm twirling madly. He dashed back to it and
tried to get it under control. "A little help would be nice," he called.
No response.
He turned his back on the deck in order to face the wheel directly,
struggling with it. It suddenly seemed to have a mind of its own. Every
time he yanked it one way, it yanked itself back the other. He had the
oddest feeling that someone was under the ship pulling on the rudder,
forcing the wheel to guide the ship away from the island on the horizon.
Jack closed his eyes tightly in frustration. He released the wheel to pull
his bandana from his head and wipe his face. He watched
dumbfounded as the wheel spun around and around like a wayward top.
It then stopped dead still. Just as he reached for it again, it whirled
frantically, first one way, then the other. He yanked his hand back from
the mad dance of the wheel.

"Fine, be that way," Jack shouted at the wheel.

None of his crew members had budged a single inch. Jack would have
thought they'd been mystically turned into statues if they weren't each
absently, languorously, and silently continuing their activities. The
setting sun cast long shadows across the deck. Jack jumped down in
front of Fitzwilliam.
"To arms!" he shouted, expecting Fitzwilliam to raise his sword and rush
to the bow. But the young aristocrat just continued running his
neckerchief up and down the blade. Jack huffed in frustration. He was
getting nowhere.
Jack crossed to where Arabella stood gazing out to sea. "What is so
bloody fascinating out there?" he asked her.
She didn't answer, didn't move, just gripped the rail, her long hair lifting
in the wind.
"Well, if you want to go all statuey, lass, that's your prerogative. But I
have a ship to sail here," Jack said, stepping away from her.
He turned and joined Tumen at center deck. The young sailor was
making adjustments to the astrolabe. "I hate to break this to you, my
good fellow," Jack began, "but I can't see what use this device can be if
you hold it upside down."
Tumen behaved as if he hadn't heard a word.

Jean was petting Constanceor more correctly, attempting to. The cat
had slithered out of Jean's hands and onto the deck. She lay sprawled in
a way that made her look like a limp rag doll. It was unusual behavior
for the feisty, albeit nasty, feline. Yet Jean's hands continued to move as
if he were still holding her, rising and falling, rising and falling.
"What is wrong with you lot? Have you forgotten that we were just
minutes ago nearly killed by a sea beast? Step up, now. These are
dangerous waters!" Jack barked.
Jack took a step toward them, but suddenly the song that had been
blaring seemed to shift pitch and become much softer. Then Arabella
shivered,

Jean

manipulating the

clasped

his

hands

together,

Tumen

stopped

astrolabe, and Fitzwilliam's polishing slowed to a

halt.
The melody was still dancing about the boat, but now it was only a
whisper. Jack felt as though the song were an entity that had just wound
its way across the deck and was now heading back out over the water.
The crew appeared to be getting back to its normal self, and then,
suddenly, the sound increased markedly. The crew went stiff again, and
the sails flew up and down the masts. The boom swung back and forth,
and the lines untied themselves. Jack went into frantic action, dashing
all over the ship, reaching, pulling, yanking, shovingand above all,
shouting. He was on his own for now. Despite his commands, not a
single crew member responded.

Panting, sweating, and furious beyond belief, Jack Sparrow

leaned heavily on the wheel. It had set its own course, away from the
island, and he'd given up trying to change it. At this point, any
destination was better than jerking about this way and that.
"Might as well see where we're headed," he murmured. He pulled out
his pocket compass and peered down at the instrument, but it was
getting dark. He needed to light the lanterns. That was usually
Arabella's job, but it wasn't likely she'd be taking that on this night.
The compass needle flickered back and forth without rhyme or reason.
It wasn't pointing north. Nor was it pointing south or east or west. It was
just spinning aimlessly.
"Hmm. That's probably not good," Jack said, matter-of-factly.
He shoved the compass back into his pocket. "Well, let's try this."
He glanced at the standing compass. That needle also made a slow
circuit around and around and around, like a sped-up clock. The
instruments were as useless as Jack's so-called crew. He crossed to the
rail to better see his mates. They all seemed to have fallen asleep. Jack
wasn't sure if it was any worse than having them awake and useless.
Grumbling, Jack strode to the bow, taking care not to accidentally kick
anyone (though he did so a few times). As he peered into the oddly
starless night, the wind picked up, pushing the Barnacle speedily along.

CHAPTER FIVE
Come morning, a bleary-eyed Jack stood wearily at the helm, glaring at
the rising sun. He had not gotten one wink of sleep. Between the
strange melody that had come and gone all night long, and the
phantom island, which was now once more nowhere to be found, sleep
did not seem an option. Especially when he was clearly the only one in a
suitable position to captain the Barnacle.
"How can you sleep through that incessant drone?" Jack complained to
his snoring crew, though the sound seemed so faint now that he could
hardly hear it.
"Look alive, mates!" He strode across the deck, clapping his hands
loudly as he paced among the crew. He stopped at the bow, turned and
stared down at the crewmates, shaking his head. Not one had so much
as rolled over.
He bent down over Fitzwilliam. "Ahoy, there!" he shouted into the
sleeping boy's ear.
"What? Who goes there?" Fitzwilliam sat bolt upright, clutching his now
extremely polished sword.
"And a good morning to you, too," Jack said. "Has Prince Charming
gotten enough beauty rest? Good, because now it's time to get back to
work!"
"Work?" Fitzwilliam asked, confused.

"The running of the ship, you spoiled, soft-handed cretin!"

"Do not insult the honor of a Dalton," Fitzwilliam warned. "You will
regret it."
"Okay. One, I do not have time for this, and two, well, there doesn't need
to be a two, does there?" Jack said flatly. "Now, wake up the rest of this
group of useless cargo so we can get this ship back on course toward
that disappearing-appearing-reappearing island. That's an order," he
shouted. Then he added, snootily, to Fitzwilliam, "And even the
aristocratic Daltons know that disobeying a captain's order will result in
a court martial."
"Here we are again with this captain business," Fitzwilliam groused.
"You're no captain, Jack."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Would you care to repeat that?" he said, a
warning tone in his voice.
"We are five young people and a cat . . . type . . . thing . . . lost at sea,"
Fitzwilliam replied.
Jack scowled, but as he opened his mouth to reply, he heard a scream
from the other end of the deck. It was Arabella, and she'd been woken
up suddenly by Constance, who was standing up on her hind legs,
hissing at the Tortugan barmaid.
"Constance!" Jean cried out, also waking suddenly. "You're scaring the
mademoiselle!" The cat shuffled away on her hind legs, and Jack and

the rest of the crew stared in wonder.

"Does she do that often?" Jack asked Jean.
"Non, monsieur, she's never done it before."
"Well, it's pretty bloody odd if ye ask me," Arabella snapped, dusting off
her weathered dress.
Tumen was now at the wheel to guide the rudder, and Arabella moved
beside himand away from Constance--to continue her navigation
lessons. Jean moved to the mainsail and Fitzwilliam to the bow.
Then, the song returned. It seemed to Jack to have a physical weight to
it. More like a presence than a sound.
Jack pulled his compass from his pocket. It had been working fairly well
a moment before, but now it was broken: no revolution around the face,
no pointing in multiple directionsit was doing nothing at all. He held it
starboard, he held it port, he held it toward the bow and then toward the
stern. It never moved.
"Blast it!" Jack said, sliding his compass back into his pocket and
resisting the urge to hurl the disobedient instrument into the sea.
He went to the helm. "What course are we making?" he asked Arabella.
Arabella just shrugged.

Jack saw that the needle on the ship's compass slowly swung back and
forth.
"Tumen, my friend," Jack said, smiling and draping an arm around the
young sailor. "You're a regular Galileo with navigational tools, land-seaposition things and what have you. Can we get some help here?"
"There're no stars now," Tumen said. "I need the night sky."
"I wish you'd mentioned that last night," Jack said. "Now, why didn't I
ask you then? Oh, right," he added sarcastically. "You were too busy
sleeping as if you were in a coma."
Jack strode away from the helm and began pacing the deck. "So," he
began, "we don't know where we're going, but we seem to be headed
there at quite a clip. We have sea beasts prowling these waters and a
discordant sound that gives one the sensation of fingernails running
over slate. If that weren't enough, a phantom island drops in now and
then. This is brilliant." He threw his hands in the air.
"All right, my mates," Jack announced, continuing to pace the deck. "I'm
willing to put behind me your most unseemly, unworthy, slackish,
brackish behavior of the night previous. But let us get something
straight. If you're going to sail on the Barnacle, you're going to pull your
own weight. Or we'll leave you at the next port," Jack looked around at
the expansive ocean around him, then finished, "wherever that might
be. Savvy?"

The singing sound grew much louder.

"I am beginning to question why we are even here," Fitzwilliam stated.
"Pardon me, Fitzy," Jack said, "but was it not you who demanded
passage aboard this ship? Was it not you who vied for your right to sail
with us?"
Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes.
"I guess the intermittent spells of waves we've been encountering have
rocked the little sense you may have had right out of that priceless head
of yours, eh, lad?"
"I warned you once, I shall not warn you again," Fitzwilliam said. "Do not
insult my honor or that of my family."
"A bit touchy this morning, aren't we?" Jack said. "You ask me, I'm the
one who should be suffering from a foul disposition. I've had no sleep,
and my charges sat staring into space as the ship went mad around
me."
"A ship can't go mad," Jean scoffed from the rail.
"I beg to differ," Jack said, spinning around to address Jean. "And if you
had managed to stay awake last night, you'd know precisely what this
ship had gotten up to. Now, can't we please just get back to planning
the mission?" Jack said, clasping his hands together and bowing
forward.

"Mission?" Fitzwilliam repeated disdainfully. "This is a fool's errand at

best."
"How's that?" Jack turned on his heel to face Fitzwilliam. "As this is my
mission, I believe you are calling me a fool."
Fitzwilliam shrugged. "So be it."
Jack took a step toward the tall boy. "Might I remind you yet again,
aristo-hrat." He enunciated every word precisely and rolled his r's for
good measure. "You begged to come aboard. Insisted upon it. And you
were as eager to reunite the Sword with its sheath as any one of us."
"That was before I realized what madness such a mission is," Fitzwilliam
said.
"A few days ago you discovered what it felt like to conquer a violent,
bloody, not to mention cursed, pirate. You felt the freedom of
discovering treasure and sailing the seas free from the constraints of
family Dalton. Then just yesterday you watched yours truly," Jack said,
pausing to wink at Arabella, "slaughter a raging sea beast. You've done
things that wizards and kings through the ages have only dreamed of
doing," Jack said with a convincing amount of passion. "This is the
mission of a lifetime and you know it," he finished.
"Not my lifetime," Fitzwilliam answered.
"Let me remind you who is captain here," Jack said.

"And who decided that? Not we. Is a captain not elected by his crew?"
Fitzwilliam crossed his arms and took a wider stance, planting his feet
firmly on the deck.
Jack stared at the belligerent boy. The others stayed quiet, although it
was unclear if their silence was because they were afraid to interfere in
a fight between Jack and Fitzwilliam, or if the astonishing indifference
brought on by the song was continuing.
"If you will recall," Jack said smoothly, "I appointed myself captain,
seconded by all of you. And besides," he added with a grin, "I'm the one
with the compass."
"A compass that does not work. Not unlike your mind. This is not a ship.
It is a decrepit boat. You are not a captain. You are a lunatic,"
Fitzwilliam said.
"Oh, that was very unwise, Fitzy," Jack snapped, his hand instinctively
gripping the sword he wore at his side.
"Oh, put your sword away. You are so dramatic," Fitzwilliam said
dismissively. "I tell you this mission is doomed, and I refuse to link my
name to such folly. We do not have the resources to take on a pirate
such as Louis."
"Of course we do!" Jack protested. "And you thought so, too, up until oh,
let's see, moments ago. We are not abandoning this mission."
"If I cannot change your mind, then do take your own advice and set me

ashore at the nearest port," Fitzwilliam said.

"Oh, and why would you want to do that?" Jack asked.
"I plan to take my portion of the treasure we have already found,"
Fitzwilliam said. "I will buy myself a position as an officer in the army. I
will ensure my valiant leadership and bring the Dalton name to glory."
"Hah!" Jack shook his head, laughing. "You? First of all, friend, let's face
it, you're not exactly, how shall I put it? 'Leader' material. Not to
mention that you're here with us because you were running from that
very life," Jack said. "Now, who's the lunatic?" he whispered to Arabella.
"How dare you impugn my honor!" Fitzwilliam unsheathed his sword in a
swift move.
"'Impugning'? There's no 'impugning' going on here. What are you
talking about?" Jack said.
"You will guide this boat to a port," Fitzwilliam said, his voice growing
hard, "where I shall disembark."
"Look, Fitzy, it's not like I'm desperate to keep you," Jack said mildly,
waving his sword around carelessly. "You're not much of a sailor. But
out of very principle, I do not take orders from my crew. Besides, I am
not taking a detour from Louis's trail to drop you off."
"You will do as I say."

"No. I. Won't," Jack said.

"I repeat, sir, you will do as I wish, or pay the price!"
"You forget yourself, 'sir,'" Jack said mockingly. "Let me remind you
again. Despite your protests, I am, in fact, captain here. And onboard
ship, the captain's decisions are law."
Fitzwilliam charged forward and lunged at Jack. Jack nimbly leapt up
onto the gunwale and grabbed the ratlines leading to the crow's nest.
Missing his target, Fitzwilliam stumbled. Jack gripped the ropes and
swung around the ratlines, landing a hard kick on the tall boy's
backside. He toppled into the mainmast, hitting his head hard against
the wood and crumpled to the deck.
"Oh, my," Arabella exclaimed. But she didn't move from the helm.
"Sorry about that, Fitzy," Jack said, leaping down from the ratlines to
land beside the unconscious boy. "But you gave me no choice."
Jack propped Fitzwilliam up against the mainmast and lashed him to it,
taking care that all his knots were secure and proper.
"Now, you'll go nowhere," he said as he wiped his hands together, an
indication of a job finished and well done.
Constance crept back on the deck and delicately sniffed Fitzwilliam.
"Glad that's taken care of," said Jack, clapping his hands together

briskly. "Maybe he'll talk more sense when he comes to. You know how
these aristos areall vapors and fits of madness."
"I agree," Tumen said.
"Why, thank you, my friend," Jack said, smiling.
"No, I agree with Fitz," Tumen replied, never taking his eyes from the
astrolabe, which he held up as if he were reading a night skydespite
the bright sun blazing down on them.
"Me, too," Jean said.
Constance yowled, presumably in agreement.

CHAPTER SIX
As Jack's crew decided to give up the pirate chase, the song continued.
"Blast it all! Stop this ear-bending noise!" Jack shouted. He clapped his
ears, shook his head, and went back to pacing the deck, taking care to
step over Fitzwilliam's outstretched legs.
"Who are you yelling at?" Jean asked.
"Them. The singing ones! The song people! Oh, never mind," Jack said,
giving up.
"I hear nothing, monsieur, but your ranting," Jean said.
"I also hear nothing," Tumen said.
Jack turned to Arabella. "What about you? What do you hear?"
"Wind. Waves," Arabella replied. "It's beautiful." She looked moved to
tears.
"Well, folks, then clean out your blasted ears," Jack cried.
"I think the insanity of this mission is getting to you," Jean said.
Jack gaped at Jean.
"I agree," Tumen said.

Jack pointed at the boys. His mouth opened and shut a few times as if
he were going to say something but was too appalled to find the words.
Finally he said, "Well, of all this crew, it figures the young ones would
lose courage and loyalty soonest!"
"Well, not exactly 'soonest,'" Tumen pointed out, "Fitz lost it first."
"Point taken," Jack agreed.
"There are more important things in this world than this dumb Sword,"
Jean said.
"Jean is correct," Tumen said.
"I'll tell you the merit in all this," Jack said, leaning against the
mainmast to steady himself, yet still swaying with the rolling deck.
"One!" He held up a finger. "The sword we are looking for grants great
power. Two." He held up another finger. "With that power, we could rule
towns, cities, populations, counties, countries. Three." Another finger in
the air. "That sort of power inevitably yields great wealththe greatest
of which is freedom, the ability to have to answer to no one." Jack
stressed, "Well, no one, except for meand I will go easy on you, I
promise." He held up all five fingers.
"Oh, and did I mention the power part? Besides," he added, adjusting
his head scarf. "The Sword is probably very becoming and will look
lovely hanging in the captain's cabin. I can't think of a worthier cause."

"A much worthier cause," Jean grumbled, "would be to restore my sister

to her human form."
"Oh, that drivel again. Will you cut that out?" Jack said. He watched
Constance wriggle out of Jean's overzealous embrace. She skidded a bit
when she landed but quickly regained her footing. She scampered
across the deck to the plate of fish heads Jean had put out for her and
sniffed them.
"Right now," Jack said, "that nasty cat is the only crew member
behaving at all normally."
"There is nothing normal about my sister being a cat!" Jean exclaimed.
"And now, monsieur Sparrow, we will turn this ship around and head for
the bayou shack of Tia Dalma. She put this curse on my sister, she can
have it removed."
"Sorry, lad, I'm not into the whole mystic idea. This Tia Dora..."
"Tia Dalma."
"Yes, 'Tia Dalma' does not sound like someone I'd want to cross, being
that she creates beasts as wretched as this cat-thing here."
Constance's ears flattened. She yowled and spit at Jack.
"Back atcha, luv," Jack said.
"Do not speak to my sister in such a tone," Jean said. "And now, we set

sail for Tia Dalma."

"But first, we must set a different course," Tumen interrupted. "I need to
be left on the sandy white beaches of the Yucatan. I need to return
home."
Jack threw up his hands in exasperation. "Another county heard from!"
"No," Jean said, striding toward the helm. "We must go to Tia Dalma."
He shoved Tumen aside, grabbed the wheel, and yanked it to the right.
The boom swung quickly around, careening into Jack and dragging him
with it.
"Um, hello?" Jack shouted from the boom. As Tumen and Jean fought
over control of the boat, the boom shifted back and forth.
"Yucatan."
"Tia Dalma."
"Um, Captain. Onboard. Commanding you to stop!" Jack barked, as he
was dragged back and forth across the deck. Then he finally let go of
the boom, rolled to the rail, and stood, careful to stay out of the way of
the swinging boom. He strode over to the fighting kid sailors, intending
to take control of the wheel.
Jean and Tumen stopped fighting each other and turned to Jack. "Don't
come any closer," Jean warned. "You're not getting ahold of this wheel."
A strange glint came into his eyes.

"You're looking a little crazy there, Jean," Jack said. "You know, wildeyed, foamy at the mouth, and all that."
While Jean was distracted by Jack, Tumen grabbed the wheel.
"Tumen, off that wheel!" Jack ordered.
Wanting to be in control of the wheel himself, Jean turned to tackle
Tumen. Jack smiled and knocked Jean on the back of the head with his
elbow. Tumen turned to see what had struck Jean, and as he did so,
Jack smiled and ducked. The boom was swinging in from behind him,
and it landed square in Tumen's jaw. Both young sailors were out cold.
Jack dragged Tumen and Jean to the mast, mumbling to himself, and
lashed them beside the still-unconscious Fitzwilliam.
Jack stood back up and stretched. Although the sun was still beating
down on them, the strange fog that had earlier surrounded the
disappearing island rolled in again. It wrapped itself around the ship. As
Jack peered through it, he noticed large green fins breaking the surface
for a moment and then disappearing quickly below.
For a moment he thought they might belong to other sea beasts. But
the fins he had just seen dip beneath the waves were far too small for
that. As the fog cleared, the island, which they must have traveled miles
and miles from by now, mystically reappeared.
"Wonderful," Jack said, heading for the helm. "Sea creatures,
reappearing islands. What next?"

CHAPTER SEVEN
"Do not fear!" Fitzwilliam shouted. He strained against the ropes that
kept him tied securely to the mast. "I shall lead you into glory! Fall in
behind me, men, for Fitzwilliam P. Dalton the Third and his men will be
victorious!"
"Now who's delusional?" Jack muttered to himself. "'This is not a ship.'
'You are not a captain.'" Jack mimicked Fitzwilliam's taunts. "Well, lad,
seems you, not me, are the bloody lunatic!"
Jack scanned the ocean, looking for a sign of the mysterious fins he saw
dip beneath the waves, or anything else unusual. The misty island was
on the horizon again, and the last time it had appeared, the Barnacle
was attacked by a sea creature. Jack turned toward Arabella, who was
leaning on the railing. This had become something of a habit for her,
Jack noticed.
"You still with us, lass?" Jack asked, noticing the glazed-over expression
on her face.
Arabella said nothing. She just continued to stare out at the sea.
Jack sighed.
Tumen stomped his feet as best he could from his position at the post.
He was screaming and yelling in his native tongue, but occasionally Jack
understood words like "home" and "now."

The song was getting loud again, and as it wound its way through the
boat Jack could almost feel it. As it passed them, Tumen and Jean grew
limp, and their bodies seemed to sway to the song.
"Home," Tumen moaned. "Let me go home."
"Oh, Constance. We've got to lift your curse," Jean cried. "Tia Dalma . . ."
Constance let out a howl, stood up on her two hind legs and, bizarrely,
"walked" below to the galley.
"That again?" Jack asked, puzzled by the cat's behavior. There was
something strangely comic about it, but also something deeply
disturbing.
Thwack! The flying jib at the bow of the ship backwinded. The imbalance
of the sails made the boat tip dangerously to starboard. Jack skidded
across the deck and caught himself just before he tumbled over the rail.
He gripped the ratlines and straightened up.
"Oooh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" he said to the Barnacle, convinced
now that the ship itself was out to sabotage his mission. "Well, it will
never happen." He grinned while his restrained crew continued to chant,
moan, and shout, and Arabella continued to clutch the port rail, her sad
eyes never leaving the horizon.
"It's the sea, doll. Just the sea," Jack said, frustrated by her sudden
obsession with the ocean. "Seen one, seen them all. Waves, horizons,

open air. Not much else to look at besides that foggy island that might
or might not be there depending on when you look, and the occasional
odd tail of a sea creature that may or may not be a beastie ready to
attack us."
Jack took a step toward her, hoping, though he knew it might be in vain,
to get her attention. But the ship was still backwinded, and he slipped
backward. "I'll be back in a moment, doll. Must attend to the jib," he
said.
Keeping a hand on the rail, he hurried to the bow. He ignored the crew,
neatly leaping over them. Then he sat astride the bowsprit, muttering to
himself while he inched along the pole to release the wayward sail.
Salty spray stung his eyes, and he almost slipped twice due to the
slickness of the wet bowsprit, but he finally made it back to the deck.
"Are you going to say anything today, Bell?" Jack asked. Silence.
He waved his hands frantically in front of her face. "Hello there!" he
yelled, exasperated. Gesturing to the subdued crew, he said, "Even if
this lot here does not want to complete this mission, it's still you and I,
lass. You and I who decided to do this. You and I who found the
scabbard. You and I who secured the Barnacle and set sail and defeated
Torrents. It's you and I who are going to find this blasted sword, and
keep it out of the hands of thieves, pirates, and most of all, Davy Jones.
And it's you and I who will be free to do whatever we wish with its
power!"

"It doesn't matter . . ." Arabella's voice trailed off. "None of it matters."
Before Jack could respond he was distracted by Constance, back on
deck from the galley. He shook his head in disbelief.
"What do you mean, 'none of it matters'?" he asked. "All of it matters.
Every last blasted moment of it. We're partners, me and you. You said
so yourself the night we met."
Constance looked over her shoulder at Jack and Arabella and let out a
snarky meow. Jack's eyes widened as he watched the cat walk twolegged over to the cup of tea Arabella had left beside the stovepipe the
day beforebefore everything went crazy on the ship. Constance leaned
forwardstill balancing on her hind legsand tried to lift the cup with
her paws. Over and over she made the attempt, letting out annoyed
mews at her inability to grasp the handle of the cup.
"Of all the odd things I've seen in my day, this is up there," Jack
muttered. He walked over to Constance, who was now trying to steer the
ship's wheel. He scooped her up and tied her to the mast as well, right
beside Jean. The cat's mewing joined the rest of the crew in forming a
painful off-key symphony of groans.
All the while, the melody coming off the sea rose and fell. The rhythm of
the song seemed to match the swell of the waves, the pitch of the ship.
Jack peered up at the sails, then out to sea. Through the haze of gray
fog rolling off the island, he again spotted several green fins. As they

dropped just below the surface, he gripped his sword, preparing for the
worstanother attack by a vicious beast. But he also thought the fins
could just as easily belong to some kind of large fish.
The fog began to wrap around the ship, and Jack noticed that they were
closer than ever to the dark island that kept appearing. Jack stomped to
the helm. Then he whirled to glare at the three boys and the cat tied to
the mast. He cocked his head as he watched their antics. Clearly it was
the song that had driven them mad. But why wasn't he affected? And
why not Arabella? Or was it affecting her?
He turned to face the barmaid, who was still staring out to sea. "I don't
know what your problem is, Lady Misery," he said, "but at least you're
not trying to change the course of the mission."
"Jack, II want my mother."
Jack stared at her, surprised. "The lady speaks!" He furrowed his brow.
"But she speaks nonsense."
"I do, Jack. I want to be with my mother." Arabella finally pulled her gaze
from the sea and faced him, her eyes wild.
"Your mother, eh?" Jack raised an eyebrow. "Well, best schedule a visit
to the graveyard, dear. Everyone in Tortuga knows your mum is dead."
"If death is the only way for us to be reunited, then so be it."
Jack watched, stunned, as Arabella gripped the railing, hoisted herself

up, and turned to him. Then, without another word, Arabella threw
herself overboard.

CHAPTER EIGHT
"Oh, brilliant," Jack cried, as he watched Arabella fall into the sea.

He

stared down at the water. Arabella disappeared below the surface but
then quickly bobbed back up, gasping. Her hair streamed out behind
her, and her long skirts floated up around her head. But as the heavy
fabric of her dress soaked up the seawater it weighed her down, and
she began to sink again.
Only one thing to do, Jack thought, tossing his vest onto a cleat for
safekeeping. He threw the boat into the wind to stop it, leapt up onto
the railing and dove into the churning blue sea.
He plunged in with a splash and quickly broke the surface, scanning for
Arabella. He shook his head to get the shaggy wet hair out of his eyes
and spotted the top of her head just above the water.
He swam to her, hoping she wouldn't resist his effort to save her.
Coming up behind her, he grabbed her head and tilted it up out of the
water so she could breathe. With his other hand he gripped her firmly
around her shoulders, positioning her so that she lay nearly on top of
him. Then he kicked hard, floating on his back, and pulled her along
with him toward the ship.
She seemed unconscious, but her eyes were open and blinking. She
wasn't actually fighting him, but she was much heavier than he had
expectedit almost felt as if she were being pulled in the opposite
direction. Could her dress have snagged on something underwater?

Jack suddenly screamed out. A sharp stab had made him jerk his hand
up and out of the water, releasing Arabella. He treaded water and
checked his hand. Blood streamed down into the warm Caribbean Sea.
Jack's eyes bulged. Teeth marks. Like human teeth, but much sharper.
Arabella was out cold and sinking again. Jack watched hopelessly as
her head slipped below the surface.
He muttered something, took a deep breath, and plunged down. Once
below the waves, he opened his eyes and tried to focus. Underwater,
everything was a blur, but he could still see Arabella slowly drifting
toward the ocean floor. He kicked hard and was quickly by her side. He
wrapped one arm around her and used the other to paddle, bringing
them back up toward the surface. He had to hurry.
Then he realized that something was, in fact, dragging her down.
Colorful fish swam in front of him, seaweed smacked him in the face,
and his own kicking churned the water--all these things obscured his
ability to see what was pulling Arabella deeper and deeper. And he
knew he couldn't hold his breath very much longer.
He kicked hard, trying to yank Arabella out of the grasp of the unseen
obstacle. He wrapped both arms around her to make sure he didn't lose
her again.
He reached as far as he could to strengthen his grip around her and
found himself suddenly staring into a surprisingand surprisingly

beautiful face. Long, flowing hair the colors of the sea drifted around the
strange girl. Her pearly skin made him think of the inside of an oyster
shell, and her eyes glowed like moonlight. She was perhaps the most
gorgeous girl Jack had ever seen. And he had seen countless pretty girls
in his day.
Gorgeous.
Until she opened her mouth wideand released a bubbly hiss.
Jack reared back in shock, and in this moment of confusion loosened
his hold on Arabella. The fish-girl grabbed Arabella's shoulder and tried
to yank her out of Jack's arms.
Jack didn't need another clue to know that this underwater stranger had
bad intentions. Those sharp teeth of hers definitely matched the bite on
his hand, and now that he was less startled he noticed that she was in
fact a girl, but only from the waist upshe had a shimmering, scaly tail
the rest of the way down her body. A mermaid!
They had to get out of therefast! Back up to the surface for air and
back to the ship for safety! There were stories about mermaids. Many of
these tales told of mermaids that were very sweet and innocent. But
there were other tales of sinister mermaids who had aligned
themselves with Sirens. Jack quickly deduced that this one was part of
the latter group.
Clutching Arabella tightly to his chest, Jack quickly curled his body into a

ball and then sharply flung out his legs, kicking the mermaid square in
the chin. She reeled backward, and Jack swam as fast as he could for
the surface with Arabella heavy and lifeless in his arms. He glanced
down to see if the mermaid was gaining on him, and his heart thudded
hard.
The mermaid who had attacked Arabella was there, but she wasn't
alone. Scores of other mermaids were gathering belowand they were
all headed straight toward Jack!
His lungs were already nearly bursting, but he forced himself to push
hard for the surface. He knew he couldn't fight off all those creatures,
and he wouldn't be getting any help from Arabella.
He swam rapidly, lungs burning, muscles straining, Arabella's weight
slowing him down. He fought against his tiring arms and his exhausted
legs, determined to get both himself and Arabella out of that water. He
burst up into the air, gasping and sputtering. But it wasn't over yethe
still had to make it to the ship.
The water rippled around him, and he knew it was from the legion of
mermaids making their way toward the surface, their green fins
flapping as they sped up to him. He couldn't slow down now. He kicked
and kicked, dragging Arabella along, creating a wake.
Finally, he reached the ship, and never softening his grip on Arabella,
hoisted himself onto the ladder that hung over the side. Steadying
himself, hooking his feet into the rungs, he managed to shift Arabella so

she was over one shoulder. He grabbed the rail of the ladder and
scurried aboard.
Jack heaved himself and Arabella onto the Barnacle. He laid his
shipmate down, and then, panting, he collapsed. His chest rose and fell
as he regained his breath. As soon as his lungs were full, he knelt
beside Arabella, who was pale, bloated, soaking wet, and what
concerned Jack most of allnot moving or breathing. He opened her
mouth and placed his lips firmly on hers, exhaling into her, willing her to
breathe, determined to awaken her.
After all that, he thought, she can't have drowned. Not after all that!
Arabella coughed and sputtered, and Jack yanked her upright, pounding
on her back so she'd cough up all the seawater she'd breathed in.
The moment she got her bearings, she stood and raced back to the rail.
"Oh, no, you don't!" Jack shouted, chasing after her. He grabbed her
around the waist just as she was about to jump overboardagain. "I
risked my life getting you back onboard. I'm not doing it twice."
"I must get to my mother!" Arabella wailed. "Release me at once!"
"I didn't see your mum down there with the Scaly Tails," Jack said,
dragging her over to the mainmast. "You'd be wasting your time. And I'd
have to get myself all wet again rescuing you." He lashed her to the
mast with the others.

"The reason men made ships," he complained, "was so that they didn't
have to get themselves drenched going from place to place." He took
the ends of his shirt and wrung the water out of them. He stood in a
soggy puddle. "If I've ruined these boots," he warned Arabella,
"someoneand I think we both know who I meansomeone is going to
make me a new pair."
Jack stalked back to the helm, leaving a trail of wet footprints and
seaweed in his wake.

CHAPTER NINE
Jack smacked the wheel. He walked to the mast, circling around his
newly deranged crew members.
"So," he began, pacing back and forth in front of them, "it has recently
become clear to me that the Sirens, or something like them, are the
reason for all of this bizarre, strange, and utterly unacceptable behavior.
This of course indemnifies you all on some levelthough not entirely
but it does not solve my more immediate problem, which is how do I
overcome this trial and get you all back to normal."
He glared at Constance, who was sitting with her paws crossed angrily,
"Or, as normal as possible.
"It also does not explain why I seem to be the only one remotely aware
of this Siren song, nor does it explain why I have not been affected by
it." Jack stopped and thought for a moment.
"It does explain the sea beast."
He paused again and concentrated.
"It does not explain the appearing disappearing island.
"It does explain the presence of the song, whether you can hear it or
not."
Jack rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"So! You see, we have more items unanswered than answered."

The bound crew members were limp and stared slack-jawed and
expressionless at Jack.
"And it's clear none of you are hearing any of this, so I am basically
speaking to a mast," Jack said.
"Anyway," he continued, "about these Sirens ... I don't know why I didn't
realize it before. We've all heard the stories, the legends. Every sailor
lives in fear of being called to their watery grave by the Siren's song. He
leaned over the side of the ship and cupped his hands together. "I guess
I just thought they'd be a bit more on key," he mused.
Just then, the song wrapped itself around the ship once more. The crew
perked up.
"For the glory of the Crown and the Dalton name!" Fitzwilliam shouted.
"I must report for my commission at once! Why are you detaining me?"
"Well, you see, Fitzy," Jack said, kneeling down beside the delirious boy.
"There is no commission. There is no Crown. And after today I am not
even sure there is a family Dalton. Everything you've been saying is outand-out rubbish." Jack was enjoying turning the tables on Fitzwilliam,
who consistently insisted that Jack was not a captain.
Jack stood up, then stumbled a moment, dizzy and light-headed. He
steadied himself by grabbing the mast over Fitzwilliam's head. "Must
have not quite recovered from my dip in the ocean," he muttered.

"Mother!" Arabella pleaded. "I must see my mother! I must!"

"Bell," Jack said quietly, "I really don't think it's a good idea for that
request to be granted."
"Tia Dalma!" Jean moaned. "We have to go see her!"
"I believe your friend Tumen will argue that," Jack pointed out. Tumen
nodded angrily in agreement. "And I'd hate to cause a rift between such
good mates. So I shall refuse you both, in the interest of your friendship.
We're keeping to our original course."
Constance had stopped yowling and hissing. She simply sat there,
staring at the ropes wrapped around her and gazing up at Jack defiantly.
From the twitching of her tail, he was pretty certain he'd pay for her
confinement later.
"And you," he began to address the cat, who bared her teeth, "oh, never
mind."
Jack started suddenly and flapped his hands quickly about his ears, as if
he were trying to shoo away the song. He lowered his wet bandana over
his ears and tightened it, hoping it would help muffle the sound.
It didn't.
Jack groaned in frustration and gritted his teeth. The ship was drawing
ever closer to the island, and Jack was beginning to think that if this
was where the Sirens or mermaids, or whatever they were, wanted him

to go, then he should make every effort to avoid heading toward it.
He gave the wheel a tryhoping it would work this timeand was
thankfully surprised that the rudder responded to his touch. "Okay now,
Scaly Tails," he shouted out to the sea, "thank you for your hospitality.
So glad you'd like us all to stick around your strange disappearing
island, but sorry, it's getting late, must be going. Savvy?"
Peering at the instruments, he realized that although the compass
seemed to be working, he had no idea which way to guide the Barnacle.
The boat had been pulled in so many directions between here and
therebetween the first encounter with the sea beast and nowthat he
had no idea where he was.
Further, with his crew tied to the mast, he'd have no help adjusting the
sails to catch the winds. He thought that once the starry night appeared,
Tumen would be able to help him with navigating. ... Then he looked
over at Tumen, who was drooling all over himself and stuttering, "Home!
Home!"
"No help there," Jack said. "Well, actually, thinking about it more
carefully, this can't really be all that hard. All I truly want to do is get out
of here. It doesn't matter where I wind up, as long as it's far from sea
beasts and the Scaly Tails."
As Jack tried to figure out how to maneuver the boat away from the
island, the song grew even louder, filling Jack's head completely. It was
nearly impossible for him to think of a plan, a direction to take. Any

thought he had was crowded out by the wailing of the song and the
shouting of his crew.
"All right, that's it!" Jack stalked away from the wheel. "I've had it with
all of you!" Jack shouted. Turning to his crew, he continued through
gritted teeth, "And I do mean all of you."
There was only one thing to do. He had to face the creatures who were
tormenting him and entrancing his crew. One way or another, he had to
stop the singing. That was the only way he'd be able to break the hold
over his ship and his mates. If the Scaly Tails were too cowardly to come
to him, then he'd be more than willing to join them on their turf.
He strode to the prow of the ship and planted one foot on the bowsprit.
"All right, Scaly Tails," he bellowed out to sea, "I know who you are. I
know the game you're playing. I'm ready to fight for my crew! So, come
out...and play with old Captain Jack Sparrow!"
Sudden silence.
Then, Jack heard the lapping of gentle waves against the hull of his
ship. Finally, a delicate, pale hand broke the water. A finger was lifted
and it beckoned Jack into the sea.

CHAPTER TEN
Without hesitation, Jack dove into the water. A powerful current swept
over him, and he felt himself being sucked downward. He opened his
eyes wide, but the water was spraying his face, stinging him so badly
that he needed to squint.
He felt the rush of water all around him, and it became clear that he
was inside a whirlpool or something very much like one. He was spun
around and dragged deep into the ocean, deeper than he'd ever been
before. He could feel himself descending, and the little bit of light he
could see through his now barely opened eyes was waning. Down he
went, his hair whipping around, the underwater world swirling into a
frenzied blur.
Just when he thought his lungs would burst, Jack was spat out into a
vast cavern at the sea bottom. "Ouch!" he shouted as he landed. He lay
gasping on shell-covered sand.
"Hey," he murmured, "there's air down here. And light." Given these
strange facts, Jack was not sure if he'd actually landed at the bottom of
the sea, or if he'd been transported to another dimension entirely.
Slowly, he pushed himself up and gazed around.
The huge cavern walls shimmered with the refraction from the turquoise
water, each tiny ripple sending glints of light across the ceiling. Little
pools full of translucent shells and exotic fish dotted the sandy shore.

Black coral formed bridges and thrones throughout the dark, damp,
cavernous space that dripped and oozed with slime.
Three mermaids with bright blue tails lay in the center of the cavern
atop a slick boulder. They stared at Jack, their dark eyes haunting and
intense. Around them, in shallow water, were hundreds of mermaids
with green tails. They also stared at him intently. Relegated to a far
corner of the cove were a dozen or so red-tailed mermaids. Jack couldn't
tell where they were looking, but he thought it safe to assume that they,
too, were staring at him.
Jack stared back. He'd never before seen such a sight. "All these
beautiful mermaids." He smiled. "Creatures of legend and lore, right in
front of me! What an exciting adventure, indeed!" he murmured. Then
he straightened his back and quickly reminded himself that these
women were the enemy.
"Welcome," the three blue-finned mermaids said in unison.
"Nice harmony there," Jack commented. "I just hope you don't start up
all those choruses again. I don't think I can take any more of that bit.
Nice place you've got here," Jack said, admiring the dripping cave.
"Where exactly are we?"
"We are beneath the island that is here but is not here," the three
replied.
"Come again?" Jack asked.

"The place that resides in Davy Jones's locker but also rises to the air
above the sea. You saw this island, and you wished to explore it. You are
a courageous one," the blue-finned mermaids said together. "Not many
have dared explore Isla Sirena, and fewer still have been invited to meet
us in our lair. You intrigue us."
"You're a mite interesting yourself," Jack said, figuring these blue-finned
mermaids were the leaders.
The green-tailed creatures must be their armyif soft-looking fishtailed
girls could constitute an army. It was an odd thought, but he knew from
the legends how dangerous these creatures could be. His own crew had
succumbed to their powers. He wondered what the Red-tails were.
Servants, maybe?
As he scanned the cavern he noticed a movement just out of the corner
of his eye. It was a kind of flickering. He turned back to face the bluetailed sirens and started. He could have sworn they had just shape
shifted. For a moment he was certain he had seen their arms as
tentacles ending in sharp nasty claws and their shining scales covered
in barnacles and boils. Yet when he looked at the mermaids dead-on
they-were beautiful again.
And now, he sensed the same thing happening with all the green-tailed
mermaids just beyond his peripheral vision.
Steady on, he told himself. Keep your head clear.

"What is your name?" the three bluetailed mermaids trilled.

"Jack Sparrow. Well, actually now, Captain Jack Sparrow. I've got a ship.
The Barnacle. Little thing really, not such a ..."
"Silence!" the three mermaids rang out in unison.
"So," he cleared his throat, "you know who I am. And now, I assume, you
are the great Sirens of legend. Call sailors to their doom and all that," he
said.
"No, Jack Sparrow. We are not the Sirens. We are the merfolk. We sing
our own melody, and we do the bidding of the Sirens. We are their
agents, like the sea beast you killed during the last rising sun. There are
others you were fortunate enough not to encountergill men, sea
warriors...We all receive the protection of the Sirens in return for our
services."
"And what exactly are your services, pray tell?" Jack asked, leaning
forward.
Three Blue-tails flicked their fins in unison. "Our song will tear open your
heart, and you will beg for more. It will tease you with your greatest
desire till you grow mad. And this desire will eventually burn so fierce
that you will drive yourself directly to us. Then it is our charge to deliver
you to those to whom we answer."
"The Sirens," Jack said.

"Yes," the Blue-tails replied.

Jack thought about this.
"So, that explains why Fitzy wants to go join the Light Brigade, Tumen
wants to go home, Arabella threw herself overboard, and Jean wants
that mangy feline transformed back into a human form"
"which is the feline's wish as well," the mermaids finished for Jack,
"hence the eerily human posturing."
"But what about me? Why was I not affected?" He smiled smugly. "I
guess it's likely because you fancy me," Jack said, smiling and tugging
at his shirt collar. "Can't really say I blame you, ladies," Jack continued,
examining his dirty fingernails proudly in an attempt to look nonchalant.
Then he reminded himself that these ladies were not his friends.
"But you were affected, Jack Sparrow. Remember what you desire most.
You were following what you desire most," they responded.
This was not clear to Jack, who shook his head in confusion.
"Your greatest desire..." all the mermaids in the cavern crooned.
"Desire," hundreds of them echoed over and over, "desire."
Jack bit his lip. He was going to have to think about this one for a while.
"Well, no harm done," he told the merfolk. "I'd have acted the same way

with or without your musical interference." He took a step closer to the

edge of the lagoon. "But now I really must insist. Release my crew and
my ship from your spell ... or else."
Jack noticed the leaders' blue tails flicking the way Constance's tail did
when she was about to pounce. He braced himself for an attack and
gripped his sword, which still stank of slain sea beast.
"We are willing to make a deal," the three Blue-tails sang.
"A deal ... a deal ... a deal . . ." the others chimed in.
"I can do without the chorus, please," Jack said. "No offense."
"None taken," the mermaids replied.
He turned to address the entire circle of Green-tails and once again was
startled by strange transformations in his peripheral vision. Claws
snapped; what had seemed to be pretty, soft faces grew scaly and
fanged; tentacles reached toward him, then retracted. With a nervous
shiver, he faced the Bluetails again.
"You were saying," he said, his voice a little shaky.
"We will let you and your crew continue unimpeded on one condition.
You must offer to us the greatest treasure you will ever obtain."
Jack flinchedhe already considered the Sword of Cortes as good as his.
The prospect of cutting this deal so he was free to search for the Sword

just to lose it again to the Sirens was unthinkable.

"I'm afraid on that I shall have to disappoint you," he told them. "I see
no profit in going through all the trouble of finding the Sword of Cortes,
risking the life of my crewnot to mention my ownendure great
hardship, and face who knows what obstacles just to turn it over to you
lot." He shook his head. "We'll have to do a bit more negotiating, my
dears. The Sword of Cortes is not a treasure I'm going to part with."
All the mermaids in the cavern laughed, their amused voices trilling. The
sound was echoing so loudly in the huge cavern that Jack had to force
himself not to cover his ears.
"Not all treasure is silver and gold, Jack Sparrow," the Blue-tails said.
Jack wondered why these supernatural types always found the need to
speak in riddles. He could hardly figure out what his greatest desire was,
and now he was challenged to come up with the thing that would be the
greatest treasure he'd ever obtain. And that, only to barter it away in
order that he and his crew could sail on, in search of the treasure he
desired most. . . which he'd have to return to the merfolk once it was
procured. It was all so confusing.
"Well," Jack said, "if it's not silver and gold you're looking for, then it
can't be that important. I accept your offer," Jack said. All the mermaids
below Isla Sirena hissed.
"Then we have made a deal," the Bluetails sang.

"Great, then. Be on my way now," Jack said. "Can any one of you be a
lady and show me the way out?" he asked, winking at a particularly cute
Red-tail, who smiled back.
"Before we release you, we require collateral," the Blue-tails countered.
"Sorry, Scaly Tails, got nothing on me but this old sword, my boots, and
old Stone-Eyed Sam's stone eye."
The coven gasped.
"We will take the eye."
Jack shrugged. He'd taken it as a souvenir of his last adventure, but it
didn't have any value beyond the sentimental. And Jack Sparrow was
anything but sentimental. He held out the stone that was once set in the
skull of the pirate Stone-Eyed Sam and dropped it neatly into one of the
Blue-tails' hands. The mermaids smiled with pleasure.
"Very well. We will hold this stone until you return to deliver to us your
most prized treasure."
Jack shrugged. "Okay, then," he said. These mermaids were not quite as
clever as they thought they were.
The mermaids grinned at Jack as though they could read his thoughts. A
sudden shiver shot up Jack's spine. Their identical smiles unnerved him.
He shook off the strange feeling of doom.

"Jack Sparrow," the Blue-tails said, then paused . . .

Jack stared at them, waiting.
"You are free to go," they finished, laughing.
"Free, free, free," the rest of the coven repeated, as the word echoed
throughout the cavern.
Jack felt a hot rush of blood go to his head.
Free. Freedom was what Jack treasured most. It is why he couldn't be
enslaved by the mermaids' song. It was also what he had just bartered
away.
The evil cackling resounded through the cavern as a Green-tail's head
emerged from the water. Up close, Jack could clearly see the scales on
her face. She reached out and led Jack to the funnel of the whirlpool
that had brought Jack to their lair. The Green-tail blew Jack a mocking
kiss, then guided him back into the whirlpool where he was instantly
sucked back up to the surface. He popped his head out of the water and
quickly found the Barnacle.
He turned to catch one more glimpse of Isla Sirena, but it was already
vanishing. He felt the deep, sudden pain of regret. He knew the next
time he saw the island, he would be imprisoned there, possibly forever.
He swallowed hard and dragged himself back aboard the Barnacle.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
Once he was back on his boat, Jack saw that things were, as he had
hoped, back to normal.
"Help!" Arabella screamed. "Jack, where are you?"
"Untie us!" Fitzwilliam yelled.
"Jack, help us! Somebody knocked us out and tied us up," Jean hollered.
Constance mewed and hissed, and Tumen struggled silently.
Jack stepped into the view of his crew and began to untie them.
"Jack!" Arabella cried. "You're alive!" "What has happened here?"
Fitzwilliam asked.
"Oh, just the usual mayhem," Jack said. "Nothing to fret about. It's all
over now. Captain Jack has set everything right. And now we'll all need
to set this ship back on course."
"Why are we tied to the mast? Who did this to us?" Fitzwilliam
demanded to know.
"It was for your own safety," Jack said, explaining no further and quickly
untying the tangled ropes that held his crew. "Now we must find our
bearings. I believe we are far off course."
"Tumen and I will check the charts and our sightings," Jean said. Tumen

nodded, and together they went to the helm and began studying the
instruments.
Jack gazed down at Constance. The cat stared up at him. "I'm tempted
to keep this one tied up," he said.
"Oh, no, you won't!" Jean said. "She is as much a member of this crew
as the rest of us."
"Oh, all right," Jack relented. He knelt down and loosened the rope
around the cat. She quickly scrambled to the prow to keep watch over
the sea.
"We're both wet," Arabella said to Jack, gazing down at her still-damp
dress. "Why?"
"I had some business underwater," Jack said.
"What about me?" Arabella asked.
"Youyou were looking for something you thought might be found in the
sea. I persuaded you otherwise."
"Oh."
"We're having trouble finding our course," Jean called from the helm.
"Why am I not surprised," Jack mumbled.
"You!" Fitzwilliam pointed at Jack accusingly. "You have gotten us off

course, you have tied us to a mast, and you almost had us killed, first by
a notorious pirate and then by a raging sea beast."
"Don't forget the mermaids," Jack said.
"What mermaids do you speak of?" Fitzwilliam asked.
"Never mind that," Jack said. "Now, please make your point and make it
quickly."
"My point is," Fitzwilliam began, "that this mission is a sham. You are
not . . ."
"... a captain ... I know, I know . . ." Jack finished for him.
Fitzwilliam opened the chest on the deck where the crew kept their
most precious treasures, including the scabbard that belonged to the
Sword of Cortes.
He waved the scabbard in Jack's face and said, "For all we know there is
absolutely nothing different about this scabbard than any other!"
Fitzwilliam angrily threw the scabbard to the deck.
The crew watched in wonder as the scabbard spun aroundand gained
momentum instead of losing it. It began to waver a bit and then
steadied itself in one direction. Jack and Fitzwilliam looked at each
other.
"Okay..." Jack said, pulling out his compass, which, like everything else

on the ship, was again in working order. "Well, the scabbard is not
pointing north..."
"... but it is pointing in a consistent direction..." Arabella said. Each time
she tried to move the scabbard it sprang back to the position it had set
itself in.
"... which can only mean ..." Fitzwilliam said.
"... the scabbard is acting as a compass ..." Tumen added.
"... and there's only one thing I can think of it could be pointing toward
..." Jean said.
"The Sword of Cortes!" Jack shouted triumphantly. "Crew ... set a
thataway sort of course! We are about to become very rich, very
powerful ..." He paused and thought for a moment, then he smiled and
finished, "... and very free."
Captain's Log:
I am now one of the few men ever to match wits with the Siren's
mermaids and live to tell the tale. This bit about returning to them to
give up my freedom has me a little concerned. Though no entirely. After
all, I am Captain Jack Sparrow, and Captain Jack Sparrow can find his
way out of any mess.
So, for now, we're back on course thanks to my brilliance, clever, quickthinking action to throw the sheath of the Sword of Cortes to the ground,

which, I know, would cause it to act as a compass. Now there is nothing

to stand between us and finding Lewis ... and the sword.
Captain Jack Sparrow

Don't miss the next volume in the continuing adventures of Jack

Sparrow and the crew of the mighty Barnacle.

Vol. 3: The Pirate Chase

Jack and company are hot on the trail of Left-Foot Louis. But chasing
down a fierce seafarer is challenging, even for Jack's formidable crew.
And to top it all off, Arabella has a personal score to settle with Louis,
but doing so could jeopardize the entire mission!