Jack kneels on the sand, watching his ship sail into the horizon. The sun glares into his eyes, making them smart and water, but he keeps on looking after the Pearl. The waves lap around him, mocking him with their placidity. Jack's pistol washes up on the shore, nudging at his knees.
After a while, he cannot bear to watch anymore. Perhaps he realises that his Pearl isn't coming back. Perhaps he realises he has lost. He grabs the pistol and trudges further ashore to clean it.
His boot prints have already started to wash away.
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