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Disclaimer: The canon Pirates characters in this story are not mine, but the original characters are. I can't make any money with them, but ohhhh, can I have fun with them! :)
Author's note and dedication: I have not written on the website for most of the winter… after finishing "The Pirate Lass of Connemara, Books I & II", I needed a break.
I'm back, with inspiration to fill in some of the blanks that were left in Captain Jack Sparrow's story, "The Other Side of the Island". It would be helpful if the readers would peruse those two stories for some of the details that might be spoken of in this collection... I will also refer to some of my one shots, here and there.
I wish to dedicate this collection of memories to all of my faithful readers, all of whom I hope haven't abandoned me during my long winter's nap... and especially to my dear friend, love2write, a fine fan fiction author in her own right, who has been my muse by keeping my writing in focus and in fun during our Cat Mara Writing Workshops! Go raibh math agat, lass.
This collection of tales will be random in nature, as our Jack's Locker addled thoughts wander in and out of the places and people who shape a legend… at least a legend in his own fractured mind.
I will visit many places of Jack's past, and his oldest friend and lady love, Janie O'Madden, will be at his side or upon his mind, with guest appearances by many of the Pirates characters that we all love… so pull up a chair with a tankard of rum, and let me spin a yarn or two about a young man who was not always a pirate captain… but was once merely a raggle taggle gypsy of Irish heritage, who ran off to the freedom of the sea, after he almost lost his life, twice, to the despicable institution of slavery…
And lastly, "Raggle Taggle Gypsy" is a traditional song of Ireland that is one of my favorites. I suggest the version recorded by the Chieftains with Nickel Creek.
Now... on with our story. Pirate Cat
TALES OF A RAGGLE TAGGLE GYPSY
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The evening air was heavy with the smell of peat fires... and the sea could be heard, beating against the rocky cliffs of Moher in the distance, as the sun dipped low over the western horizon... shades of pink and deep gold rested upon the surface of the sea, and sea birds were dipping about as the sunlight began to fade into twilight... the soft, warm Irish wind was playing among the treetops, as if it were wishing to join those who were gathering in the tiny village, nestled in the moss covered hills that rolled along the craggy coastline.
The band at this particular public house in County Clare was striking up yet another merry tune, and the revelers had plenty of reason to celebrate upon this night. It was March 17, 2009, Saint Patrick's Day, and it was wee Magdalena Jane O'Madden-Sparrow's very first birthday!
Meg O'Shaughnessy Gibbs had pulled out all of the stops, and her finest pub grub was available for all to partake in, and the finest of the alcoholic libations were at hand at Joshamee Gibbs' ornate Victorian bar, with everything on the house for this celebration of life… even if it was suspected all up and down the coast of Western Ireland that those who were gathered upon this night were more than mere descendants of the pirates made famous by their exploits in motion pictures from a studio helmed by a mouse in red shorts.
All who lived in the villages that dotted the wild, craggy, windswept coastline had seen too much in Ireland's untamed and sometimes bloody history to ponder too heavily upon the rumours that the family that ran the Black Pearl Dinner Cruises out of Clifden were, in fact, the real Captain Jack Sparrow and his crew, enchanted by those mysterious things that can only be imagined and wondered about. And all who lived in this place strove to protect this odd family of 21st century pirates, just as Ireland had quietly protected pirates and their rebellious ilk for centuries.
The small guest of honour upon this evening was a tiny, winsome little thing, with dark, caramel coloured skin and high cheekbones, sparkling eyes and a ready, giggling smile… she had just learned to walk, and had been bobbing up and down to the music provided by the traditional band of local lads, who were playing ancient songs sung in Irish Gaelic, and some in English, in deference to those who did not speak the language that still defiantly refused to die in this part of Eire.
Little Maggie laughed and clapped her hands, her bright copper curls pulled up into a pigtail, bouncing with life as she "danced" with everyone in her green and pink flowered dress… she was truly a blessing, this child, and a delightful combination of a man who watched proudly as his daughter – the very image of himself – made his weaselly black heart (in his own words) utterly melt with every sparkle of her chocolate brown eyes, and his lady love, the tall, auburn haired woman on his arm… she of freckled, plain face and bright ocean blue eyes.
His Janie… his beautiful Janie…one who had crawled through a fence of her affluent father's widespread County Galway estate and scampered happily through the woods beyond…and had discovered a tiny cottage, and the beautiful young gypsy woman who lived there…
His exotic mother, Magdalena Sparrow, who fell in love with a pirate captain from Dublin named Edward Jonathan Teague… a woman who would set both of them forward on a long, convoluted path through life… the independent young Janie O'Madden, and her raggle taggle gypsy… who would later be known as the legendary pirate, Captain Jack Sparrow…
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"Come on, Janie, join me! Let's dance! It's yours and Jack's song!" Elizabeth Swann Turner was now pulling Janie to her feet, her own hazel eyes dancing as Jacey Sullivan and his cousins were beginning to strike up their instruments, shouting, "Aye, Janie! Sing to the Captain, like ye always do!"
Elizabeth's petite hands were grasping Janie's broad, freckled one, as Janie blushed and giggled, getting to her feet, looking over her shoulder into the dark face of the man that she had loved since she was five years old, and he was a little laddie of only three…
He grinned up at her, his dark incredible cheekbones rounding out like apples, his golden teeth shining, as the handsome, tall, muscled young man who was sitting next to him smiled and winked at the ladies… Jack and his young half-cousin, William Turner the Second, were as close as brothers since they first met back in the truly old days, taking a while to warm up to each other as they traveled to the pirate haven of Tortuga upon a commandeered Navy brig, but inseparable once the dark times At World's End had been put behind them, sailing away with the Flying Dutchman but a memory.
William had been freed of his service to the ghost ship, thanks to the slight, slender man sitting next to him… an odd man who was mildly mad and very pleasantly addled. It was after the events of World's End that they had found out that they were cousins by way of a shared paternal grandmother, and it was during the times after that they they found out just exactly how alike they were. William became Jack's first mate, and together, they had managed to survive into the 21st century, with the help of the magical Agua de Vida, hidden away in the Connemara mountains…
William leaned over and nudged a fresh tankard of rum toward his companion, and Jack glanced at him with a smirk, as he pulled his wee daughter into his lap… "So Jack… just how is it that this song became one that is so similar to what really happened to you and Janie?"
The captain leaned back in his chair and propped his booted feet up on the table, as the music began in earnest… his waist long, trinketed braids and the long, trailing tails of his red bandanna were flipped over a shoulder, and Jack took a deep, long pull from his tankard, as Janie began to sing along with Jacey's fiddle…
"There were three bold gypsies came to our hall door
They came brave and boldly-o
One sang high and the other sang low
And the other sang the raggle taggle gypsy-o...
It was upstairs, downstairs the lady went,
put on her suit of leather, oh
and there was a cry from around the door
she's away with the raggle taggle gypsy, oh...
It was late that night that the lord came in
inquiring for his lady, oh
and the servant girl she says to the lord,
she's away with the raggle taggle gypsy, oh...
Well, saddle for me my milk white steed,
my big horse is not speedy, oh,
I'm a-ride, I'm a-seek my bride,
she's away with the raggle taggle gypsy, oh..
Well he rode he east, and he rode west,
he rode north and south or so,
until he came to a wide open field
it was there that he spotted his lady, oh...
Tell me, how could you leave your goose feather bed,
your blankets strewn so comely, oh
how could leave, you've nowhere to go,
all for the raggle taggle gypsy, oh
Well what do I care for my goose feather bed
for my blankets strewn comely, oh,
tonight I lie in the wide open field
in the arms of a raggle taggle gypsy, oh...
Tell me, how could you leave your house and your land,
how could you leave your money, oh
how could leave your own good lord
all for that raggle taggle gypsy, oh...
Well what do I care for my house and my land
and what do I care for money, oh..
I'd rather have a kiss from the yellow gypsy lips
I'm away with the raggle taggle gypsy, oh!"
Sitting shoulder to shoulder with his best friend and first mate of nearly three centuries, the Captain closed his brown eyes, halfway, as he watched his lass' long, thick auburn braid trail down her back, tied at the bottom with a black velvet bow, swaying to and fro the beat of the bodhran drum, and he then looked down at the beautiful little curly haired girl that he was bouncing in his lap... by all unwritten laws of blood and heritage, a wee little lass of Romany blood, just like her papa....
Glancing over at William from the corners of his eyes, he said nothing for a moment, as William grinned at him, expectantly, "Well, William, th' story is very much like Janie's an' me own story, because it is Janie's an' me own story...."
Janie's eyes met his, and it was like a lightning bolt passed between them for the defiance in her voice, as she and her Jackie both sang the last line of the song, together...
"...I'm away with the raggle taggle gypsy, oh!..."
To be continued.....