Take Off Your Dress, Pick Up A Sword

a chinese dao

Elizabeth, the revered governor's daughter, was awarded clothes and a cabin. Joanna and Jack, on the other hand, were known criminals. On top of that, Joanna had not-so-subtly destroyed her dress and blatantly donned in men's garments. Her past transgressions plus that inane act quickly labeled her as a tailor-turned-pirate.

"Female hysteria," whispered one of the sailors Joanna and her escorts passed on the way to the brig. Joanna bit her tongue and resisted the mighty urge to roll her eyes.

For what seemed like a long time, Joanna paced the compact boundaries of her cell, lonely and anxious. She wished alternatively for the company of Will or Jack -- Will, who she missed something terrible, and Jack, who was brilliant and interesting and surprisingly kind.

Joanna tried not to brood on Will's fate, struggling to quell the vestiges of hope that had sprouted when Norrington agreed to Elizabeth's proposal. The Black Pearl had disappeared hours ago with William and the motley Tortuga crew. Isla de Muerta was not far. The chances of William emerging from this awful affair were slim.

When the stairs rattled with footsteps, Joanna eagerly pressed herself to the bars, squinting through the dark to see who was visiting. She brightened to see Jack, uncuffed and unharmed.

"Does 'silent as the grave' extend to the brig, as well?" Jack flippantly asked his escorts, two exasperated Navy men.

One of them cuffed the back of Jack's head as the other began fiddling with the lock to Joanna's cell. "It extends as long as your stay here," growled the punch-happy officer. Jack rolled his eyes.

Finally, the maw of the cell swung open and Jack was tossed inside. The Navy men quickly locked it and retreated, glad to be rid of the plague that was Jack Sparrow.

"I thought you were needed at the helm?" Joanna questioned as Jack went through the pretentious motions of brushing himself off. "Isn't your compass the key to finding the island?"

Jack's mouth twitched into a secretive smile. He leaned against the hull and slid to sit on the ground, folding his legs beneath him. "What makes you say that?" He inquired. His fingers brushed over the compass, dangling innocuously from his belt.

Joanna joined him on the floor, glad that, unlike the Pearl, the Dauntless chose to keep the seawater out of the brig. "You followed the compass to find the island, on our first voyage," Joanna explained.

"Ah-ah," Jack chided in a patronizing way. Joanna glared at him to make sure he knew how infuriating he was. "The compass led me to the Black Pearl."

"So the compass points to the Black Pearl."

Jack continued to smile at her, mysterious and teasing. Joanna squinted at him, thinking, until her thoughts culminated into a brilliant idea.

"Freedom," she whispered. Louder, she asked, "Does the compass lead to freedom?"

Jack's face lit up. He was pleased she'd remembered his drunken musings, Joanna guessed. "You're sharp, Jo."

"Don't call me that."

"But you're not quite there," he continued as if she hadn't spoken.

"Keep your secrets, then," Joanna muttered. She turned away, glaring through the bars. The belly of the Dauntless creaked jovially as the ship cavorted to the Island of Death. She thought about Will Turner.

"The Pearl has a head start," Jack said quietly. "But I wasn't lying when I said she was damaged. Ghostly or not, she was taking on water."

Joanna took a deep breath. As holy as swiss cheese or not, the Black Pearl was the swiftest ship in the Caribbean. "Do you think they've made it to Isla de Muerta by now?"