Jack took two bottles of rum from the barmaid - took being the operative word. Sweet talked might be a better one. With promises of later payment as he laid a slender finger beneath her chin and promised her the moon, before waltzing out of the bar, swinging one bottle quite merrily, and having thrust the other at Will with the order to follow him.
Jack whistled rather merrily as he made his way back to the dock, to the Pearl - and to what else? It was difficult to say, but his feelings of effervescence were all tied to Will Turner. As was his tremendous steelsplitting erection.
Mr. Gibbs was nowhere to be seen, as he jauntily minced up the gangplank - out getting soused and/or laid no doubt. But Jack didn't care. He was a pirate on a mission, that mission being to sex up Will, something he'd been thinking about for some time now, and which seemed completely possible now that his frigid bitch was apparently out of the picture.