Thanks everyone for your comments. This is my first foray into fan fiction
and I hope everyone gets as much enjoyment out of it as I do.
In this instalment, Jack is 23 years old and has been captain of the Black Pearl for the last five years. He has heard of the treasure that Cortez had hidden from the church and has decided that he wants it. Little does he know what he's in for.
Read on!
------------------------------------
Ch 1. Forgive me Father, I have Sinned.
Jack rubbed his tired eyes and leaned back from the book he was reading. It was written in a heavy archaic mix of Latin and Spanish and was at least two hundred years old. He glanced around the dark room and at the few flickering candles he had dared to light. He was surprised that he had escaped notice for this long. Shifting uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench, he scratched again at his armpit and the small, crawly things hidden there. He swore softly at the monk who had previously owned the robe for his lack of hygiene and turned back to the book.
The book he was attempting to read was the official church record of Cortez's journeys to the new world. It described the journey in detail, from manifests and lists of equipment to books of detailed logs of the sea routes taken and what Cortez had discovered and brought back. Jack's search for this tome had taken him from the Port-of-Spain in the Caribbean all the way to mainland Spain herself. Earlier in the night Jack had, not unkindly, relieved a Franciscan monk of his senses and then his clothes. He had then sneaked into the scriptorium at the monastery and had finally found the book he was after. He was searching it for mention of a chest of gold that had been taken from the native Aztec but had never made it back to Spain. Cortez had hidden it for some reason. It had to be somewhere.
Jack stared again at the compass where it sat next to the book. It was about three inches square, made of leather bound in brass and looked innocent if age worn. It also seemed to be broken until you moved it. The north indicator should have pointed north but here in Spain it continued to point in a south-westerly direction regardless of which way you turned it. On the high seas it was useless. Jack kept it out of respect for Bootstrap Bill who had gifted it to him five years ago after Jack had captured his beloved ship. Jack smiled at the memory.
*
"You're daft boy, do ye realise that?" Bootstrap Bill told the young man beside him as he eyed the ship riding at anchor in the bay.
"Daft, no. Know what I want, yes. Besides, we've captured bigger ships that this one," the young man replied, gesturing to the ship, dark eyes not wavering as he gazed hungrily at her.
"Aye, that may be. But we've always been on our own ship to do the capturing. This is crazy Jack," Bootstrap hissed, not missing the hint of red visible as marines patrolled her black decks.
Jack finally tore his gaze from the HMS Prideful and smiled lopsidedly at the man beside him, "I may be crazy father, but when have I ever failed, ay?"
Bootstrap let go of the branch he was holding on to and gazed levelly at his eighteen year old son. He saw again the stamp of his Creole mother on him. The face before him had high cheekbones above which Bootstraps dark eyes twinkled merrily. Black hair had been tied back under a rich red headscarf and beads and coins hung from some of his plaits as charms against ill luck and just plain mementoes of past travels. His chin was graced by dark fluff that he was vainly trying to coax into a goatee. The dark honey coloured skin was smooth and tanned from years at sea. Bootstrap had to admit that his son, Jack Turner, though brash and a show- off was a master of calculated risk. And he hungered to captain his own ship.
"I can think of a number of times," Bootstrap replied, "But somehow you always manage to claw your way out of the midden."
Jack smile widened. He had indeed done just that a couple of years ago to avoid some of the local lawmen after he had crept into a house to kiss a pretty girl - on a bet.
Jack's gaze returned to the Prideful as his mind spun with ideas on how he could commandeer her. He felt, rather than saw, Bootstrap shake his head and move back from the ridge they were lying on. Jack sighed. He respected and maybe even admitted to loving the old coot a bit, but he could be a stiff man to bend at times. A movement in front of his nose startled Jack as a sparrow landed on the branch and cocked its head, fixing a beady brown eye on him.
"Shoo," Jack breathed, "You're in my way."
The sparrow's head darted left and right as it stared at him. It even chirruped at him.
"Shoo," Jack said a little louder whilst moving his hand slightly to waive the bird away.
To his complete astonishment, the sparrow hopped complacently onto his finger and fluffed its feathers then started to preen itself. Jack had never confronted anything other than a particularly bad tempered parrot that had wanted to sit on his hand before. Most sailors superstitiously considered birds to be unlucky unless it was an albatross flying in the wake of a ship as an albatross warded away bad storms.
"Well mate, what do you think ay? D' you reckon I'm crazy setting my sights on that ship?" he asked the bird.
The sparrow stopped preening itself and looked at him, its head darting from side to side. It chirruped at him again and took off. A few seconds later, Jack spied it looping gracefully through the air seemingly over the top of the ship. He smiled.
"I'll take that as an omen then," Jack murmured to himself looking again at the Prideful, "Hmm. Sparrow. Jack Sparrow. Captain Jack Sparrow," he looked toward the bird that was now a speck against the blue of the sky and chuckled, "Thanks mate."
Now, how about that ship.
*
Jack shook himself slightly and turned back to the book. Daydreaming wouldn't help him now. It took him several more painful hours before he found the passage he wanted. The text referred to a bargain that had been struck between the Spanish and the Aztec. Payment had been the chest-full of missing gold. Jack sighed. Reading between the lines of history meant that the conquistadors had killed everyone and stole what they could. The passage stopped abruptly, simply saying that the church had considered Cortez' actions too harsh and had acted accordingly.
Jack searched the passage again and found a mention of a date. Reaching for another book, the ship's log, he quickly found the passage the date referred to. Carefully, he tore out several pages and closed the book. He rolled them up and stuffed them into his shirt. Deciding that the library had told him everything it could, he stood and pulled the cowl of the robe closer around his face. He replaced the books on the shelves and made his way out of the scriptorium. He was surprised to find that dawn was lightening the sky in the east. and that the Brothers were awake and moving around.
Jack quickly linked his hands together and adopted a meditative pose as he walked slowly towards the gardens and the rope he had hidden there to help him over the wall. He was brought up short by a hand on his shoulder. Jack cursed silently.
"Brother," the monk said gently, "Mass will be held shortly. Walk with me to the chapel."
Thinking quickly, Jack replied softly in a rounded accent, "I cannot, brother. I have... left my book by the shed in the gardens. I wish to retrieve it."
The monk looked down at Jack's shadowed face, a frown slowly creasing his forehead, "I will accompany you."
"That will not be necessary," Jack replied. He knew in the growing light of day that his disguise would not last much longer.
"I think that I --" he began before a cry went up from the gardens.
They had found the monk that Jack had tied up. Before the monk could blink, Jack had turned and was legging it down the colonnade. The robe was hindering his stride and in a flash he was out of it and throwing it into the face of two monks who stepped in front of him in an attempt at stopping him. They lurched as their vision was hampered and Jack swerved around them.
The alarm having been raised, more monks were spilling out of doorways and Jack was running out of options.
"Why on earth do these people get up so early!" he huffed to himself as he crashed through a set of doors and slammed them behind him. He grabbed a tall candlestick and jammed it through the door handles, "There. That should keep 'em."
"Ahem..."
Jack froze at the polite cough and then turned around slowly. He was in the chapel and about a score of monks were staring at him. Wincing inwardly, he chose to bluff his way out and gave them his most winning smile, raking back an errant strand of hair.
"Hello mates!" he said jovially, sweeping down into an elaborate bow before carefully moving down the aisle, "Sorry about all the fuss. I was desperate for absolution and couldn't wait," he adopted a pained expression, "Father, bless me for I have sinned but I promise I'll go straight if I could just nip through..."
"Pilgrim mass is in an hour. Please go through that door and wait with the others," the priest intoned stiffly, affronted at having his service interrupted. It was plain to Jack that they hadn't realised what was going on yet.
"Of course Father," Jack crossed himself and held his hands together in prayer as he slid past the altar towards the indicated door, "Sorry. Sorry."
He quickly opened the door and slipped through to find himself in a courtyard half filled with peasants, pilgrims and travellers. On the opposite side of the space was the high outer wall and the gate. Swiftly he wove his way through the throng to the gate muttering the odd apology as he pushed past. As nonchalantly as possible, he walked through the gate and ambled down the road past a few stragglers heading toward the monastery. He kept the steady pace until he was over the brow of a small rise where Jack broke into a dead run. He left the road, haring off across a stubbly field towards a creek that had cut a deep channel through the dirt.
With a leap he splashed into the ankle deep water and collapsed down against the bank. Taking a moment to catch his breath, Jack eased out of his vest the tightly rolled sheets he had torn from Cortez' log book and unrolled them. He glanced over them to check that they weren't too damaged then satisfied, re-rolled them and tucked them back. He stood up enough to look over the lip of the bank to check he wasn't being followed, then crouching over, splashed his way downstream.
He grinned to himself. Cortez' treasure was one step closer.
******************
Please bear with me as it may take longer than expected to get the next chapter up and running. I promise it will be soon.
^_~
In this instalment, Jack is 23 years old and has been captain of the Black Pearl for the last five years. He has heard of the treasure that Cortez had hidden from the church and has decided that he wants it. Little does he know what he's in for.
Read on!
------------------------------------
Ch 1. Forgive me Father, I have Sinned.
Jack rubbed his tired eyes and leaned back from the book he was reading. It was written in a heavy archaic mix of Latin and Spanish and was at least two hundred years old. He glanced around the dark room and at the few flickering candles he had dared to light. He was surprised that he had escaped notice for this long. Shifting uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench, he scratched again at his armpit and the small, crawly things hidden there. He swore softly at the monk who had previously owned the robe for his lack of hygiene and turned back to the book.
The book he was attempting to read was the official church record of Cortez's journeys to the new world. It described the journey in detail, from manifests and lists of equipment to books of detailed logs of the sea routes taken and what Cortez had discovered and brought back. Jack's search for this tome had taken him from the Port-of-Spain in the Caribbean all the way to mainland Spain herself. Earlier in the night Jack had, not unkindly, relieved a Franciscan monk of his senses and then his clothes. He had then sneaked into the scriptorium at the monastery and had finally found the book he was after. He was searching it for mention of a chest of gold that had been taken from the native Aztec but had never made it back to Spain. Cortez had hidden it for some reason. It had to be somewhere.
Jack stared again at the compass where it sat next to the book. It was about three inches square, made of leather bound in brass and looked innocent if age worn. It also seemed to be broken until you moved it. The north indicator should have pointed north but here in Spain it continued to point in a south-westerly direction regardless of which way you turned it. On the high seas it was useless. Jack kept it out of respect for Bootstrap Bill who had gifted it to him five years ago after Jack had captured his beloved ship. Jack smiled at the memory.
*
"You're daft boy, do ye realise that?" Bootstrap Bill told the young man beside him as he eyed the ship riding at anchor in the bay.
"Daft, no. Know what I want, yes. Besides, we've captured bigger ships that this one," the young man replied, gesturing to the ship, dark eyes not wavering as he gazed hungrily at her.
"Aye, that may be. But we've always been on our own ship to do the capturing. This is crazy Jack," Bootstrap hissed, not missing the hint of red visible as marines patrolled her black decks.
Jack finally tore his gaze from the HMS Prideful and smiled lopsidedly at the man beside him, "I may be crazy father, but when have I ever failed, ay?"
Bootstrap let go of the branch he was holding on to and gazed levelly at his eighteen year old son. He saw again the stamp of his Creole mother on him. The face before him had high cheekbones above which Bootstraps dark eyes twinkled merrily. Black hair had been tied back under a rich red headscarf and beads and coins hung from some of his plaits as charms against ill luck and just plain mementoes of past travels. His chin was graced by dark fluff that he was vainly trying to coax into a goatee. The dark honey coloured skin was smooth and tanned from years at sea. Bootstrap had to admit that his son, Jack Turner, though brash and a show- off was a master of calculated risk. And he hungered to captain his own ship.
"I can think of a number of times," Bootstrap replied, "But somehow you always manage to claw your way out of the midden."
Jack smile widened. He had indeed done just that a couple of years ago to avoid some of the local lawmen after he had crept into a house to kiss a pretty girl - on a bet.
Jack's gaze returned to the Prideful as his mind spun with ideas on how he could commandeer her. He felt, rather than saw, Bootstrap shake his head and move back from the ridge they were lying on. Jack sighed. He respected and maybe even admitted to loving the old coot a bit, but he could be a stiff man to bend at times. A movement in front of his nose startled Jack as a sparrow landed on the branch and cocked its head, fixing a beady brown eye on him.
"Shoo," Jack breathed, "You're in my way."
The sparrow's head darted left and right as it stared at him. It even chirruped at him.
"Shoo," Jack said a little louder whilst moving his hand slightly to waive the bird away.
To his complete astonishment, the sparrow hopped complacently onto his finger and fluffed its feathers then started to preen itself. Jack had never confronted anything other than a particularly bad tempered parrot that had wanted to sit on his hand before. Most sailors superstitiously considered birds to be unlucky unless it was an albatross flying in the wake of a ship as an albatross warded away bad storms.
"Well mate, what do you think ay? D' you reckon I'm crazy setting my sights on that ship?" he asked the bird.
The sparrow stopped preening itself and looked at him, its head darting from side to side. It chirruped at him again and took off. A few seconds later, Jack spied it looping gracefully through the air seemingly over the top of the ship. He smiled.
"I'll take that as an omen then," Jack murmured to himself looking again at the Prideful, "Hmm. Sparrow. Jack Sparrow. Captain Jack Sparrow," he looked toward the bird that was now a speck against the blue of the sky and chuckled, "Thanks mate."
Now, how about that ship.
*
Jack shook himself slightly and turned back to the book. Daydreaming wouldn't help him now. It took him several more painful hours before he found the passage he wanted. The text referred to a bargain that had been struck between the Spanish and the Aztec. Payment had been the chest-full of missing gold. Jack sighed. Reading between the lines of history meant that the conquistadors had killed everyone and stole what they could. The passage stopped abruptly, simply saying that the church had considered Cortez' actions too harsh and had acted accordingly.
Jack searched the passage again and found a mention of a date. Reaching for another book, the ship's log, he quickly found the passage the date referred to. Carefully, he tore out several pages and closed the book. He rolled them up and stuffed them into his shirt. Deciding that the library had told him everything it could, he stood and pulled the cowl of the robe closer around his face. He replaced the books on the shelves and made his way out of the scriptorium. He was surprised to find that dawn was lightening the sky in the east. and that the Brothers were awake and moving around.
Jack quickly linked his hands together and adopted a meditative pose as he walked slowly towards the gardens and the rope he had hidden there to help him over the wall. He was brought up short by a hand on his shoulder. Jack cursed silently.
"Brother," the monk said gently, "Mass will be held shortly. Walk with me to the chapel."
Thinking quickly, Jack replied softly in a rounded accent, "I cannot, brother. I have... left my book by the shed in the gardens. I wish to retrieve it."
The monk looked down at Jack's shadowed face, a frown slowly creasing his forehead, "I will accompany you."
"That will not be necessary," Jack replied. He knew in the growing light of day that his disguise would not last much longer.
"I think that I --" he began before a cry went up from the gardens.
They had found the monk that Jack had tied up. Before the monk could blink, Jack had turned and was legging it down the colonnade. The robe was hindering his stride and in a flash he was out of it and throwing it into the face of two monks who stepped in front of him in an attempt at stopping him. They lurched as their vision was hampered and Jack swerved around them.
The alarm having been raised, more monks were spilling out of doorways and Jack was running out of options.
"Why on earth do these people get up so early!" he huffed to himself as he crashed through a set of doors and slammed them behind him. He grabbed a tall candlestick and jammed it through the door handles, "There. That should keep 'em."
"Ahem..."
Jack froze at the polite cough and then turned around slowly. He was in the chapel and about a score of monks were staring at him. Wincing inwardly, he chose to bluff his way out and gave them his most winning smile, raking back an errant strand of hair.
"Hello mates!" he said jovially, sweeping down into an elaborate bow before carefully moving down the aisle, "Sorry about all the fuss. I was desperate for absolution and couldn't wait," he adopted a pained expression, "Father, bless me for I have sinned but I promise I'll go straight if I could just nip through..."
"Pilgrim mass is in an hour. Please go through that door and wait with the others," the priest intoned stiffly, affronted at having his service interrupted. It was plain to Jack that they hadn't realised what was going on yet.
"Of course Father," Jack crossed himself and held his hands together in prayer as he slid past the altar towards the indicated door, "Sorry. Sorry."
He quickly opened the door and slipped through to find himself in a courtyard half filled with peasants, pilgrims and travellers. On the opposite side of the space was the high outer wall and the gate. Swiftly he wove his way through the throng to the gate muttering the odd apology as he pushed past. As nonchalantly as possible, he walked through the gate and ambled down the road past a few stragglers heading toward the monastery. He kept the steady pace until he was over the brow of a small rise where Jack broke into a dead run. He left the road, haring off across a stubbly field towards a creek that had cut a deep channel through the dirt.
With a leap he splashed into the ankle deep water and collapsed down against the bank. Taking a moment to catch his breath, Jack eased out of his vest the tightly rolled sheets he had torn from Cortez' log book and unrolled them. He glanced over them to check that they weren't too damaged then satisfied, re-rolled them and tucked them back. He stood up enough to look over the lip of the bank to check he wasn't being followed, then crouching over, splashed his way downstream.
He grinned to himself. Cortez' treasure was one step closer.
******************
Please bear with me as it may take longer than expected to get the next chapter up and running. I promise it will be soon.
^_~