How it all began: The story of the crew of the Black Pearl and the hunt for the treasure of Cortés. Based on the three movies, the Visual Guide (with some reference to the Annual 2008 and The Secret Files of the East India Trading Company) and Wikipedia - by the way: Thanks, guys, those of you who contributed to the PotC and ship-lore entries, they have been a huge help! Maybe a warning might be in order: GoC isn’t a story for kids. It doesn’t contain anything too graphic (I hope) but many of its events are not exactly harmless entertainment.

The winner of the Prison Break Contest: Annette's "Caribbean Prison Break", in German only.
Annette raises the dead in her somewhat different original of Chapter 21 (also German only).

Jacqueline Chings "Ghost Ship" meets Wilhelm Hauffs "Die Geschichte von dem Gespensterschiff" in dieser unmittelbar nach "The Curse of the Black Pearl" angesiedelten Geschichte. Als ein rätselhaftes Schiff in den Hafen von Port Royal einläuft und allerlei Unruhe stiftet, müssen Will und Elizabeth sich etwas einfallen lassen, um es wieder loszuwerden.

When a strange ship enters the harbour of Port Royal and causes trouble, Elizabeth and Will have to find a way to get rid of it.
“Ghost Ship” is based on – yeah – “Ghost Ship” by Jacqueline Ching as well as Wilhelm Hauff’s “The Tale of the Ghost Ship”.

Thanks to all who proofread and reviewed it! I don't know how to say it without constantly repeating myself, but your help and your feedback are appreciated.

Der Abschnitt, der (noch) nirgendwohin paßt

Ein kleiner Absatz zum Leben auf der Dutchman, der in keine meiner Geschichten paßt (noch nicht jedenfalls).

The Dutchman was more than a ship, and those who served aboard her were more than a mere crew. It sometimes seemed to Bill as though there were part of a living organism; sometimes he felt her plunging through the waters, the seaweed swishing softly against her hull. If he concentrated, he heard her whispering, sharing her ages-old memories, of strange and unknown waters, of passing souls, of those who had long ago become a part of her, who had listened too deeply. It was so easy, so comforting to lose yourself.
And then he forced himself to pull away from the deadly siren song, to remember who he was and why he was here. He would feel his skin itch, and there would be something new growing out of him, some coral or starfish or barnacle. In the beginning, he had tried to tear off those horrid expansions of his physiognomy, painful though it had been. At one of those times, when he had actually cried and almost screamed in pain, a broken voice had spoken to him.
“Why are you doing that, lad?” it had asked. “You can’t do it forever, it will only get worse. You are part of the crew and part of the ship now.”
Surprised, he had turned around – it had been the first kindly words anyone had spoken to him aboard the Dutchman. A withered face had looked at him from out of the bulkheads, its eyes blinking somewhat confused.
“Who are you?” Bill had asked.
It had blinked more rapidly. “Who are you,” it repeated. “Who are you? Part of the ship… part of the crew…”
Bill tried again. “What’s your name?”
“Name.” His new acquaintance obviously did some hard thinking. “Name.” Then its face brightened. “Name. My name. Wyvern. Yes. That was my name… once…”
Bill had looked at Wyvern closely. There was still enough left of him to recognize him as having been human once, but otherwise he resembled a carved wooden figure. It was then that Bill for the first time truly understood the horrible fate that awaited those who had sworn an oath to the Dutchman.
“How long have you been here?” he had asked, moved by a sudden compassion for his strange shipmate.
Wyvern had sighed deeply. “Long. So very long. I was one of the first, I think… when everything changed, I was there…”
“Changed how?”
Wyvern had closed his eyes. “Listen to it,” he had said sleepily. “The Dutchman will tell you everything. All you have to do is listen. Part of the ship… part of the crew…” Once more he had looked at Bill. “Stop hurting yourself,” he had admonished him. And then he had fallen silent and never talked to Bill again.
Things had certainly not improved since then, but Bill had never been one to complain, and in time he learned to accept his situation. It would not do to do otherwise; his shipmates and the captain relished suffering, so the least he could do was deprive them of enjoying themselves on his account. He did his duty under the oath he had sworn. And years passed.