THINKING TO END UP WHERE SHE THOUGHT; quite the opposite happened to her. As diligently advised by the Commodore, who had been offered a hug for all his service and devotion. She was in the most utter desolation to act like this, to act like her mother, but all this allowed her to understand everything. To understand her. People commit evil and thoughtless acts. Freedom is unique to everyone. Each being in this world can set its conditions up to its limits. Under the yoke of his captivity, the human only procrastinates. One is free to do wrong of course, or at least to perform all the acts that lead one so far. Free, since nothing prevents one from doing so, because even a text; the most powerful words cannot stop an arm from moving or a tongue from turning. One is free to do wrong but we are only free by doing wrong. It is a succession of actions, thoughts and images that bring us to the result. Not everything happens at the same time. It is therefore as if the more one were free, the more this concept would be taken away from them, for lack of excess. So where to stop? How to know where the door of evil is, and how not to cross it?

She had joined the ship with the red sails, hoping that she would arrive safely. Instead, as soon as she boarded, an evil crab claw came and grabbed her body. Fear itself suffused her being as she encountered what appeared to be Davy Jones. Having been there for a good part of the adventure at sea, she did not know the depths. She had seen it during the battles, but from a distance, like an inexorably insignificant dust, as if thinking: "I'll deal with that later, you don't have worry about it right now." And she was right, until now.

The crab-like man stared cruelly at the young girl, who was not at the end of her troubles.

"What do you want from me, you have your heart in your possession, don't you?"

"But I still have someone to eliminate. You can help me."

While Will and Jack were still talking, the young man was starting to like him more and more. Seeing his essence just as Asteria did, he managed to resent him less. The more time passed, the more Jack confided, more human than ever.

"Do you know how I became a pirate?" Jack demanded.

Will frowned: he had never asked himself that question. He had never wondered if this rank had been assigned to him by choice. He had hardly thought about the past of this man who, no doubt, had tried to hide behind so much humility.

The boy nodded, eager to know the answer.

Jack pouted sympathetically, and pulled a tearful face. It's been a long time – no, actually. He had never told this story.

Taking a breath that had seemed trapped in his resilient body, he began:

"I was thirteen. They put me in the holds of an English boat, yes, I come from the same country as you, my friend."

Will knew that this dose of sarcasm was no longer a joke but a way to show his flaws. Jack looked almost like a devastated clown, watching his makeup drip off in front of the mirror as the crowds roar cheering him on. The young man would not have suspected Jack of coming from England. He, who seemed so comfortable here, in the Caribbean, seemed to come from there in every way.

"So I was on board this ship... this terrible ship. I was put in charge of it, until I figured out what was going on."

"What was he carrying?"

Jack stared out at the ocean, memories flashing through his mind.

"Men."

Will's lips parted, surprised at the discovery. A question burned his lips, while the rapprochements were established.

"How many men?"

"A good hundred."

So that was it. Such a prize as Jones meant so much to him. Because a hundred or five hundred, that didn't make the difference. Will knew that this precise number was not trivial.

"When I was thirteen, I was already facing the misery of the world, watching families mourn their end. So I released them."

Will was not so surprised by this revelation. Although Jack might behave horribly, there was a very good way to discern his philanthropic side, which Will knew still dwelt in his heart. The young man was almost even proud of his friend, and to learn of his still buried goodness.

"I was punished for my actions, and that is how I was proclaimed a pirate."

Jack tugged at his sleeve, looking at him with difficulty. Bandage on his hand, and showed a red-hot mark. A "P". Will was aware of the nature of this punishment, and could only imagine the pain of a child at the red-hot iron; a weapon he knew only too well, wielding it days and nights before to forge the inquisitorial goods.

An ounce of sadness perfumed the ship, as well as Will.

"So you never chose to be a pirate."

"I wanted to follow in my father's footsteps, but wasn't sure. I had met Beckett, who offered to enlist me in the East India Navy. Such an offer was up for grabs, I was young and stupid."

"What happened next?"

"The ship whose slaves I freed was burned. Since then his sails are black."

Will understood immediately.

"So this ship was... it was..."

"Yes, it was the Black Pearl."

The blacksmith had never thought of the explanation for the color of the sails, 'a pirate pattern no doubt,' he had thought. Yet now that he knew, he could swear he smelled charred on that ship.

"Jones reassembled my ship, but could not save the color. And that's why I love him. Since then, he bets my soul against the hundred that I saved that day."

Will felt ashamed. All those times spent believing that Jack was having fun with stupid and unfounded stakes, for mere pleasure, when they came from acts of pure charity.

"That's why you love the Black Pearl so much...that you find all this...freedom in it," Will muttered.

Jack wasn't looking at anyone, from the very first word he spoke. He knew that Will was only speaking the truth.

"That's why freedom matters to you so much."

The pirate had a sudden urge to cry, but didn't want to compete with the sea. He choked back his tears, and swallowed, as he turned to Will.

"Yes."

"Jack, I'm sorry. I didn't know.

"Nobody knows, and I don't want my judgment distorted for my past actions."

"So you'd rather have a bad reputation than be remembered for your glorious deeds?"

"Which cost me a lot."

"Do you regret it?"

A great silence fell on board the sleight-of-hand vessel, calm.

"For nothing in the world," Jack said.

Aboard the Flying Dutchman, Asteria felt like the first time she had set foot in a boat. The pitching foot, swinging like an inexperienced tightrope walker. Only this ship was not just any ship. It wasn't the gentle Black Pearl, who despite his blackened sails, carried a lot of warmth in his casket – or maybe it was just because she knew her crew who, might be frightening to peers unfamiliar with them, but who were really just the nicest people Asteria had ever met. At court, the intentions were only hidden, dissipated, and although the pirates used the same sorcery, one could clearly see their camaraderie during the battles or their fraternal bravery in each of the trials. Blood had never brought so closely together adherents who hardly belonged to the same family.

The same warm atmosphere was felt on the poor ship borrowed by Jack, who simply wanted to find the first building that earned him all this condition. He longed every day to take it back from the vile hands of Barbossa. What was her relationship with Jack? the pirate using both sarcasm with his allies and his worst enemies, one could never unseal if he liked or hated someone. Jack probably wielded irony better than his own junk sword.

The Flying Dutchman was dirty, marine, with an impressive aquatic biodiversity: which brought back good memories of Asteria. When she was eight, the Governor had taken her to a marine zoo, a kind of private museum; a cabinet of curiosities reserved for nobles. She saw hundreds of specimens there, when the exhibit was still new to the general public. The concept of a museum was far from all that; the most beautiful paintings were exhibited in the mansions, the sculptures in the Italian patios, and the most beautiful columns like that of Trajane. All this preciousness was only made to be shown, as proof of belonging to a higher rank than yours. Asteria could never be grateful enough to have fled this world, which was growing bigger and bigger.

The Dutch ship was therefore immediately much more different. It seemed phantasmagorical, as if centuries of lost souls were wandering in its holds, a smell of putrefaction filling the hatches. The ship's pump chattered, and the salty green only blurred the girl's vision.

Jones was aware of the value of Asteria, both at court and at sea. He was even impressed that a noble could create a reputation for herself in such a short time. Coward, thief or traitor, she was called by all names, only to remain faithful to her true allies. The hacker was. Jealous, like almost all the people who can attend the spectacle of looks between the two lovers. Discreet, but notarial. How not to notice the thing he had dreamed of the most. All he had wanted was to share the same with Calypso; sailing on the seven seas alongside the love of his early life, kissing her in the evening under sheets too small for two. But the moment had passed, the expiration filling his now made being with betrayal and regret. Revenge had to be done.

"Put her in the dungeons until we set sail for Singapore."

The octopus indicated to his henchmen, while Asteria frowned, hardly accepting to be treated like a piece of meat.

She was thrown like a sack, her bones chewing against firm ground. A cry of pain and exasperation escaped her mouth, as she circled the bars with her hands.

"Can you at least give me something to shower? I have been in poor conditions for days because of the wounds of your stupid men! Are you going to leave a woman in such a pitiful state?"

She hesitated between the weak existence of pirate mercy. And their desire for every wandering female body, they who hadn't seen one for ages.

Koleniko, a sailor, came to answer him, yellow teeth mingling with the gills he possessed. With a salty breath, putrefied marine carrageenans, and rottenness, he answered with unsanitary guffaws:

"My beautiful one, you'll have as much water as you want!"

At these words, the ship plunged into the depths.

Sticking her head out as before, the young girl did not land on the ground. She stuck her head out of the atmosphere.

Benefiting from a charm – although it was cursed – the ship could circulate under water. Like an avant-garde submarine, it allowed its passengers to savor their end in new conditions. Asteria felt like she was part of the aquarium she had once visited. Did she see herself in the third person, small, looking through a mirror at a wooden ship that serves as a decoration for a blue merlin. She never would have guessed that she would take her place on the set, and that she would be on the other side of the stage.

She was terribly cold, Caribbean water not being the warmest, but not the coldest either. She knew that the closer they got to Chinese lands, the colder the water would become. However, this temperature was already pushing her beyond her limits.

She could still hear Koleniko's thick laugh, damn proud of his joke. But she didn't hear that. A melody, calm and soothing, like a lullaby for a child. It emanated throughout the ship, followed by an organ litany. Will had told him that Jones played it when he was melancholy.

Suddenly, a sound came from the holds, dull and hoarse.

"You..."

Asteria jumped, admitting that she was becoming less and less serene. She knew she would be calling at the same port as her friends, and that she would no doubt meet them again, but this unexpected stay left her with goosebumps, even after what she had been through. There was this strange recipe, this abominable pretense that seemed to rule this boat and her stomach was constantly in knots. She never wanted to stay there more than she was going to stay now.

The young girl turned to face a man whose features seemed to resonate in family tunes.

Although his face was marked, and hidden by starfish and other crustaceans, she seemed to see something else there.

"What do you want from me...?" she blurted.

It wasn't a hoarse tone that left her, but rather a soft, concerned look. She saw something good in this man lying on this pavilion of the abyss.

The man looked at her, as if he wanted to be sure.

"Asteria, right?"

The concerned frowned, wondering how many people knew of his existence. It would always surprise her. At court, there were no big surprises, but at sea, everyone seemed to know her.

"It's...it's me, yes."

Reflecting, she made up her mind and ask her lucidities.

"Are you Bill? Bootstrap Bill?" she asked.

Leaping, the sailor seemed to be challenged. He approached the bars, without retorting a word.

"Bill Turner?" she reiterated.

One phrase too many, hissing in the gong, he suddenly looked up at her.

"Yes, yes, Bootstrap Bill, it's me! It's me!"

He went completely mad, repeating his identity to himself. Will had spoken true about his madness. It saddened him to see his father in such conditions, and pinched his heart to imagine how Will might have felt, too.

"You're Will's father," she said, merely stating the truth.

Eyes squinting everywhere, a stunning blue, he was laughing to himself.

"Yes! William! My son! How is he? He came to save me? Ah! I knew he would come."

Asteria didn't understand, and a pinch came to tickle her heart. Curious, she tried to dig even if she guessed the difficulty: the poor man did not know what he was saying now. She found it despicable that the sea could change so many men and drive them to madness.

"Save you?"

The man stopped his childishness and immediately became of a threatening ether; an unrecognizable seriousness. Asteria jerked her head around as she tried to follow, and got scared.

"He didn't come, then. Ah, I understand..."

Now sad, he looked like a cherub who hadn't had his portion to taste him.

"Why do you have to save yourself? Does Davy Jones hold a grudge against you?"

Asteria looked the same distressed, compassionate.

"Don't you know the story of the Flying Dutchman?"

"Vaguely, I know that the Captain ripped out his heart and put it in the trunk the crew now has."

"We are bound by a terrible curse. Davy Jones was to repent souls in his lair, for their spiritual good. Then when Calypso was not there, he became unparalleled in cruelty. He can only leave his ship every ten years, to return to the sacred day when he lost everything on this island, without her. We are his henchmen. Since Davy Jones didn't keep his end of the bargain, he dragged us all down with him, until his death. The curse has always been there, but not necessarily bad."

Asteria opened her mouth, beginning to understand.

"What exactly is the curse?"

"The Flying Dutchman must always have a captain. So..."

"...Will wants to save you but will have to become captain of this ship, and only return to land every ten years."

The young girl quickly guessed the deception, her heart weeping. Will had never revealed this part of the plan to her, and well understood his desire to save his father, but from there to condemn himself? Besides, it would mean that he wasn't giving them a chance, and that she wasn't part of his future.

Asteria let out stunned sighs, tears pushing the entrance to her cornea, silent.

"He won't."

She turned to the father, incomprehensible.

"What do you mean?"

"He won't do it, because otherwise he'll have to lose you."

Chills run through her, as sad anger turned to great compassion for Will. He was faced with a dilemma, the same one she had been subjected to. But she refused. She categorically refused to be the person who would block him and spoil his quest.

"I can't ask him to choose between you and me. I mean, you're his father!"

"I know he will choose you no matter what. But be careful, I don't blame you. It's even the best thing to do. Focus on the future, rather than the past. I'll get by, I'm old and full of duplicities in my skin. I don't deserve redemption."

"Listen to me, Bill. Everyone has the right to a new attempt. You can repent. I'll persuade Will to save you, I promise. I want him to enjoy the only parent he has left, that's all I want for him. I want him to be happy."

The procreator smiled at the young girl.

"You are exactly as he described you to me."

"Come to think of it, how did you know me?"

"When we met again, we had little time, but enough to discuss, where he told me about your existence and how much you mattered to him."

The girl was touched and flattered.

The sailor, meanwhile, became marble again.

She was worried.

"Bill? Mr Turner?"

He awoke, as if he had been asleep for moons.

"Yes! Oh but you are Asteria! Will told me about you!"

A saddened look, the young girl reiterated:

"It's me, yes!"

"He's not coming to save me."

And it started again, while Asteria witnessed the madness of the great man.

He needed to be rescued.