They stepped into the tavern, the air thick with smoke, sweat, and spilled rum. The place was loud—laughter, shouting, a fiddle scraping badly somewhere in the back.
Every table was crowded, every corner occupied by sailors who looked like they hadn't seen dry land—or soap—in weeks.
Jack scanned the room immediately, eyes sharp despite his relaxed posture.
"Now where did Gibbs wander off to…" he muttered.
Daniel, meanwhile, had already picked up a mug from the bar. He lifted it slightly, sniffed the contents, then took a cautious sip.
"…Huh," Daniel said after a small sip. "Stronger than I expected. Worse taste, though."
He swirled the jug once, sniffing it again. Compared to modern alcohol, it burned harsher and smelled rougher—less refined, more crude. Not something made to enjoy so much as something made to forget.
Elizabeth glanced at him in mild surprise. "You drink?"
"What?" Daniel asked casually. "Is that a problem?"
Then he paused, suddenly aware of the era he was in—and what drinking rum implied here. Rum was considered a pirate's drink, cheap, harsh, and looked down upon by nobles as something coarse and unrefined.
"Rum makes even the most intelligent man into an idiot," Elizabeth said flatly.
Daniel nodded, taking another gulp. "That part's true."
Elizabeth stared at him as he lowered the jug. "Then why keep drinking it?"
"Because it's temporary," Daniel replied. "Stupidity, I mean."
Elizabeth sighed softly, shaking her head. She couldn't understand why men were drawn to something that tasted awful, smelled worse, and so often led them into trouble.
"Mate, the man we require is out back," Jack said, jerking his thumb toward a narrow passage beside the tavern.
Daniel and Elizabeth followed him through the side door. The noise of the pub faded quickly, replaced by the sounds of animals and the heavy smell of damp wood and filth.
They stepped into a small, muddy stable.
Pigs wandered freely, snorting and rooting through the dirt. A couple of them were pressed close together in a corner, entirely unconcerned with the humans nearby. The ground was uneven, soaked with mud and refuse, and flies buzzed lazily in the air.
Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. "Charming place."
Jack ignored her and pointed down.
A man lay sprawled on the ground, half in the mud, an empty bottle clutched loosely in one hand. His clothes were worn and stained, his boots scuffed beyond repair. He snored softly, completely unaware of his surroundings.
Elizabeth stared at him, then looked back at Jack.
"…This is the man?" she asked, disbelief clear in her voice.
Jack nodded, completely serious. "Aye. Best sailor you'll ever meet when he's sober."
Elizabeth frowned, studying the man more closely. Something about him tugged at her memory.
"I feel like I've seen him before," she said slowly.
Jack's expression shifted just slightly.
"Wouldn't surprise me," he said. "He's been around."
He stepped past Elizabeth and Daniel and grabbed a half-filled jug from a nearby barrel. Without ceremony, Jack tipped it forward and dumped the water straight onto the man's face.
"AH—!"
The man jerked awake with a shout, sputtering as he flailed blindly. "Who—what—who did that?!"
Jack crouched beside him, peering down with mild interest. "You look like you've had a productive day."
The man blinked several times, trying to focus. His hair was plastered to his face, his clothes soaked and reeking of rum and dirt. He squinted up at Jack, then at Daniel, then at Elizabeth—and froze.
"…Miss Swann?"
"Mr. Gibbs?" Elizabeth asked, surprised now. "Is that you?"
Gibbs pushed himself up on one elbow, groaning as he took in his surroundings—the dirt floor, the pigs rooting nearby, the dockside noise drifting in from outside. Then his gaze returned to Elizabeth, disbelief clear on his face.
"Well I'll be damned" he muttered. "Didn't expect to see you here of all places."
Elizabeth folded her hands, still unsettled. "You used to serve in the Royal Navy," she said.
Gibbs snorted. "Aye. Long time ago. Life took a… different turn."
"Different turn?" Jack said. "That's one way of putting it."
Gibbs squinted up at him. "Jack…?" His expression shifted instantly, irritation mixing with familiarity. "You miserable excuse for a captain."
Jack smiled. "Good to see you too, mate."
Elizabeth looked between them. "You know each other?"
"Unfortunately," Gibbs said as he pushed himself fully upright. "Every time I run into you, Jack, something explodes, sinks, or catches fire."
Jack ignored that and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Always good to see you too, Gibbs. And you're just the man we need."
Gibbs squinted at him. "For what disaster this time?"
Jack gestured casually between Daniel and Elizabeth. "Crew acquisition."
Gibbs's eyes shifted to Daniel, studying him with open suspicion. "And who's this? You recruiting well-dressed strangers now?"
Daniel met his gaze without flinching. "Temporary company."
Gibbs snorted. "That figures."
He pushed himself to his feet, brushing dirt off his coat. "I'm going back to the inn. I've had enough of you for one lifetime."
"No, mate," Jack said immediately, blocking his path. "We've got a ship to chase."
Gibbs stopped.
'A ship?"
Jack's grin widened just enough to be dangerous.
"The Black Pearl."
That got Gibbs' full attention.
His expression hardened, the humor draining from his face as old memories surfaced.
"You're serious."
"Deadly," Jack replied.
*****
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