This one, Will Turner and Jack.
Arms dangle loose at his side, sword grazing the floor; insolent eyes challenge with a rogue’s smile. He’ll fight like a thug, Will thinks, without form or finesse.
“Do you think this wise, boy? Crossing blades with a pirate?”
Will learns, fast, that form and finesse are overrated. But, aspiring to steal the Commodore’s treasure, he’s disgusted to uncover the natural born street-fighter within; he had hoped for better things.
“Pirate’s in your blood, boy,” Sparrow tells him later, “so you'll have to square with that some day.”
Will won’t believe a word; I should have left him to rot.