WILL WALKED OVER AND HUGGED HIS FATHER, nearly breaking his ribs – accidentally. His father patted him on the shoulder, like a brother returning from battle. They smiled at each other and all the strewn doubts fell into the water. Everything came back to water.

But the joy was short-lived. Arriving with a bang, terrible footsteps were heardechoing against the hull of the ship. Boom. Boom. Boom. Three times sounded the fatal blows of the sea knell. We saw an unimaginable creature appear, worse than all those inhabiting the liner.

Great Leviathan, a man with the face of an octopus was glimpsed. He looked menacing and aggressive, stretching his hand skyward: the latter like the claws of a crab. Its other hand, more humanoid, was surrounded by a tentacle that encircled its victims until asphyxiation. Casting his ink towards the heavens; sucking the blood of what he loves and finding it delicious; that inhuman monster was him.

"What are you doing here, kid?" asked the sailor.

"Davy Jones... so it's you," Will concluded.

"I'm glad you know the name of the captain of the ship you just intercepted. I'm in a good mood so I'll repeat my question for you, will you? What are you doing here, kid?"

Will should be scared, he who was only a timid young man flanked in his cogs and his boiler rooms. But nothing was happening. Not a fear, not an anxiety. Nothing.

"Jack Sparrow sent me to settle his debt."

Jones sneered, running a tentacle over his eye to wipe away a tear of derision.

"Please? Jack now sends homing sparrows? I have never seen such stupidity."

Jones considered, and pulled out a pipe. He bribed a sailor for fire, and smoked his shout, stammering the exhalation out of his lungs.

"Well, Jack wants to settle his debt. But he owed me a century of servitude, not some weakling."

"He's my son," Bill snapped.

"Ah, that explains it all. Anyway, you seemed to be driven by something other than Jack's debt, kid. What a joy to have a family reunion," smiled Davy Jones. "Iron him."

"What?" Bill asked. But no matter what he said, he knew it would be in vain, nothing could change Davy Jones' mind. Apart from one thing...

Will was put in the dungeon, dripping and smelling of rotten fish. The smells he had got used to.

From afar, he saw a prisoner, destitute and completely miserable. He had no rags, only poor clothes hiding his skin. Glasses clung to his skin, so he must have been here for a while.

"Hey, seafarer!" Will waved. No one on the horizon was watching them – apart from their own loneliness facing the bars.

Will never thought he'd find himself in such a situation before. He, who had always been a just man, of Law, was now in its antonym, the worst purgatory for a just.

"Hi," replied the stranger in front of him. "They got you too, huh?"

The man had terrible blue eyes, like the ocean, and hair that looked like it hadn't been cut in a long time.

"You could say that. How did you get here?"

"Ah that my man, it is rather simple. Dismissed by the love of my life, I had to bring her back an adornment worthy of the name for our wedding. But, the merchant from whom I was supposed to buy the dress sold me, for some reason. I don't even know why they keep me here, locked up. Nothing can be taken advantage of me; I am only a biologist loving his future wife. Future, if she ever will be... Thirty weeks I've been waiting in this tub, and I'm devastated that Margot thinks I've abandoned her. I would give anything for her. Do you know that, friend?"

"I do."

Will was saddened by the story of his comrade and felt a dark anger for this ship, which had stolen the union from this spring couple.

"I am really sorry..." Will continued.

"...Finn. My name is Finn. And you?"

"Will."

They smiled at each other through the cells and continued their discussion.

"You know, they say the captain imprisoned his heart. Perhaps he steals those of others to compensate."

"Yeah, I've heard of it."

"It seems that the East Indian Company is gaining more power. I bet they want the chest."

"The East India Company?"

"And yeah, man."

"Why would they want the chest, they don't want to live with the pirates."

"But living with the sea, yes."

Will opened his mouth, quickly realizing what was at stake.

Jack laid peacefully on the ship, twiddling his thumbs. He had finally settled one of those debts, so he could draw a line under that one! But the most benevolent crew members were skeptical and their compassion for their captain was dwindling. Surprisingly enough, they should be used to treachery, pure wickedness.

Suddenly, between two nasal inspirations, while he felt the breath between his mustache, an odor of seaweed, of an execrable stench came against his senses.

"Jack, how we meet again. Did you think you could go away with it?"

He half-smiled, disappointed that his plan had been so short-lived.

"How fate favors us, Davie'!"

The sailor growled, annoyed.

"You delivered the Turner son to me, why?"

"You wanted a soul, now you own it!"

"You promised me your soul, Sparrow."

"Here then. It seemed to me that I had not specified the appropriation of this soul."

Jack behaved like a little boy, who had just done too much foolishness.

"Enough! Would you stop taking me for an idiot!"

"An octopus idiot, then? Listen friend, how many souls would mine be worth, huh?"

The squid thought, puzzled. He took a bite of his pipe, feeling the smoke in his waterlogged lungs.

"Oh, a good hundred!"

"Perfect!"

"I'll give you three weeks, Jack. Not one more."

Davy Jones held out his hand, and Jack shook it, naively. The captain's tentacle wrapped around Jack's hand before he disappeared. Skeptically, Jack looked at his hand, marked terribly with a design: the black mark.

Seeing this, Gibbs jumped, as did all the crew; the mark was like some sort of curse, having it was the worst thing imaginable. But compared to Jack's miserable life, that was only a small detail.

"Jack, the black mark!" said his frightened companions.

"But it didn't make me deaf!"

As usual the pirate put on a good face; he smiled at the crew, while chaos resided in his head. Only one idea currently prevailed in his globular brain: "Land, land!"

But yes. He had to get on the ground, in which case the worst could happen to him.

As their small boarding vessel floated, Marty noticed something:

"Hey, wouldn't that be the Isla Cruces?" he asked.

"Good heaven!" enquired sailors.

"Very well! Remarkable! But... we are missing something, people. Something very important."

Will's father made the two teammates, who had vaguely got to know each other in irons, escape. Bill had very little humanity in him, and the more time he spent on the Flying Dutchman, the more he forgot who he was. Nevertheless, Will, William, his son, was there to remind him proof to the contrary.

When they went to the rowboats at night, while the crew slept, Will looked his father in the eye.

"Thank you, father."

Bill flinched; it had been ages since he had been spelled that.

"Of course, my son. But, listen. I may have something that could help you."   

"What?"

"Davy Jones is sleeping now, probably dozing on his organ. In its most remote tentacle, it hides a immaculate good. Take it, and never come back here again."

The two sailors understood and headed for the captain's cabin. Indeed, he slept near his instrument, his sea breathing in tune with the waves outside.

A little music sounded, soothing. This is the last thing we expected from Davy Jones.

Will took a stick between his teeth, and carefully lifted the tentacles, one by one. He felt the object clicking lightly, and begged Finn to pass him something that could replace it. Finn complied and passed a vulgar roll of paper to his companion.

He had to be quick, lift the tentacle, take the object, replace the other one without waking it, and leave.

Will swapped the utensils in no time and they were off, leaving the captain immersed in his mystical realm of ignorance.

Back to the lifeboats, the two sailors set off to sea, and rejoiced that they had escaped so easily — although they had had a big boost.

But then, in the distance, Will saw the terrible captain, who had therefore noticed two affronts: the absence of the clattering object, and of the two prisoners. Bill was going to pay dearly for it.

Will met Jones's gaze, and for the first time, a spasm-like terror shot through him. He had never been afraid for himself, no, but when it came to his loved ones, despite their wrongs, he couldn't help but be consumed with concern.

"Come on, row Finn. Let's hurry before he catches up to us."

The two companions did so, before fatigue caught up with them.Not far away, Jack's poor ship was trying to get to the island of the Four Winds, not before they almost hit a small boat.

Will!

The offspring had managed to escape—how?

He had to admit it, he would take his hat off to him.

But then the debt amounted to... 101.

He was not without passion either, and rescued the two young men. One known, the other foreign.

"William! What a pleasure to see you back with us!" blurted out Jack.

"Oh yes, I bet it is such a pleasure for you to greet the man you sold to the devil. You're the man who sold the world, Jack."

"I'm dishonest, and a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly. It's the honest ones you want to watch out for because you can never predict when they're going to do something incredibly stupid."

Will deflated: in spite of his rage, he had found his father thanks to Jack and he did owe him recognition, although it was not quite legitimate.

"Who is that miscreant by your side, Will?"

"My name is Finn. You must be Jack Sparrow. You know, we don't speak well of you..."

"But at least people are talking about me and I love it! I've always liked memorable starters. How chic!"

Jack concentrated and looked at the archipelago in the distance.

"We're heading for the Isla Cruces, but first we'd have to get something," the pirate said.

"You mean this?"

Will took a key out of his pocket, and the whole crew cried out in amazement. Will held in his hand a real Grail of inestimable value.

"Where did you find it?" asked Jack, surprised.

"My father told me where to find it, and I did."

"Ah! So you found good old Bill Bootstrap. How is he?"

"The reunion was not long."

"Aye, that's too bad mate. At least you can't say I didn't tell you where he's hiding."

Will nodded.

"Friends, it's time to go to the island, and become masters of the oceans!" Jack called eagerly.

But, before any action, the men of Davy Jones left the posts; their bodies fusing with the wood. Dozens of sailors arrived, and before they could shout the alarm, the scout ship went into a dark battle against the creatures of the abyss.

And the crew complied, dropping anchor on the mysterious island. Wonderful, she would soon have no more secrets for them. With the key in possession, Jack longed to take control of the oceans. They all advanced, led by Jack and Will, who sank into the Caribbean sand. Some nearly fell, and others succumbed to the lingering sandstone. Jack made a movement of which he was the annoying habit; pulling out his compass, taking it in a decisive grip, indeed, he made most of his decisions with it. But, he searched well, and the compass was no more.

"By Jod! Where is my compass?"

The others looked at each other, all shoplifting suspects.

"Mr. Gibbs, have you seen my compass?" Jack asked stubbornly.

"It doesn't seem like to me, sir. The last time we saw it was at the witch's house.""Hmm, Tia. She must have kept it."

The pirate crossed his arms and tried to think with the little madness he had left.

"How are we going to do it then?"

"To do what, Captain?" asked Marty.

"To find the chest, come on!"

The little man sighed, understanding the pirate. The crew therefore remained there, planted, without any facts and gestures, and even the wind acted more than the sailors.

Suddenly, a dull sound of a titanic wave was heard, and the Flying Dutchman appeared. Jack stared at his black mark, swallowing hard, while the buccaneers panicked at the sight of Davy Jones' men coming ashore. The squid-man had made an important choice there: not having the right to set foot on the ground every ten years, he had therefore sacrificed his ten years of work to go and destroy the disturbing element of his mission as a prophet.

The trawlers looked determined and terrible, brandishing their guns straight ahead.

At this precise moment, the horde was waiting for orders from Jack who finally let go:

"Ah, too bad."