They're anchored and the Pearl has a scratch, what is needing to be fixed and soon in Jack's mind, and there's not much left to do now. His captaining skills are no longer in need. Not so hard this whole captaining business after all. Might just the perfect time for a drink. He's about to wander off in search of another bottle of rum when a something gets in his way.

Looks a bit like Gibbs. Again.

"Didn't we already do this once?" Jack asks, looking around suspiciously for any clothes he forgot to wear this time.

"Water barrel sprung a leak. And crew might be needing some, uh, boosting of morale now that we've anchored. Fresh fruit wouldn't go amiss."

Jack knows what Gibbs is trying to imply, and has a suspicion of why it is to him specifically it's being implied, but he only stares blankly at him. He really wanted rum, not an excursion over the island.

"Goin' to shore, collecting supplies, Cap'n. Anamaria is getting volunteers." Gibbs looks at him in that way that means this was Anamaria's idea in the first place and it's awful bad luck to go against a woman's wishes. Jack couldn't agree more in this case.

"Oh, er. Good! Stretch my land legs a bit then, eh? Send a few men ashore to collect water and fruit, Mr. Gibbs!" At Gibbs grim smile, Jack adds, "Tell 'em the Captain's going to. Mr. Cotton! You're on watch 'til we get back."

They clambore down the ladder and Jack stands on the ground -- oddly stiff feeling ground, never liked that locked feeling his knees get on it -- grinning to see who Anamaria roped into coming along. He hears her victim before he sees him and feels almost like laughing dumbly. Jack stares at Gibbs morosely, completely ignoring Anamaria and... her guest.

"No one else?"