PARADISE

Chapter the First: Boredom

Paradise. That was what some people called the Caribbean, with its wide, blue waters, clear skies, and overwhelming abundance of palm trees. In summer the days were hot, in winter the nights were cold. In autumn there was an annoying hail of coconuts and bananas, and in spring it was quite similar to summer except for a few new palm trees sprouting up here and there.

Paradise. The perfect holiday destination for bored British nobs. Unfortunately they all seemed to be staying at home, out of the heat, which was rather bad for people who made their living looting from British nobby ships.

One of these people was Captain Jack Sparrow. He clutched boredly at the helm of his ship, the Black Pearl, and stared despondently out at those wide, blue waters. He found himself wishing the skies weren't so clear this wonderful summer's day - at least a storm would liven things up a tad.

Being dead had been more interesting than this.

Jack slumped against the helm, his face squashed between two spokes, and after a moment realized he was stuck. He spent five minutes manoeuvring his head about, trying to free himself. He managed it eventually and rubbed at his bearded chin, giving the helm a good kick. He swore and clutched at his foot.
"This is NOT my day," he said after the pain had passed, and straightened, glancing around. Thankfully none of the crew had seen the Captain make a complete and utter arse of himself. Again.

Jack summoned a random crewmember to take over the wheel, instructed him to keep the ship pointed in roughly the same direction, and stepped off the quarterdeck, wobbling jauntily across the ship towards the bow.

He listened to the idle chatter of the sparse crew that wandered about on-deck, and to the slap of the waves against the gunwale. It was a disconcertingly quiet day, with no ships nor islands on the horizon. They were in the middle of paradise - in the middle of nowhere.

The pirate Captain sighed to himself. Life was terribly dull when he wasn't in danger of being slaughtered in a very violent way (as opposed to being slaughtered in a non-violent way).

It had been almost six months since someone had tried to kill him. It was like he wasn't even *important* enough to be killed, now. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow!" he yelled suddenly, causing a few crewmembers to look around at him. "I *deserve* to be assaulted, assailed, attacked and put in mortal danger!"

"Can't disagree with that," said a tall, brown figure that Jack hadn't noticed before. He whirled, and glared unhappily at the only female on his crew, Anamaria.

"Anamaria," he said.

"Yes?" The woman arched her eyebrows and tilted her hat.

"Do you have any rum?" Jack asked hopefully after a moment.

"Afraid not. We're almost out, Captain." Anamaria stared out at the glittering waters. "Shouldn't we head to Tortuga or somewhere? We're running pretty low on everything, including rum."

"Rum, rum, rum," chanted Jack Sparrow. "Rum and apples and bananas. Aye," he added, "We'll go to Tortuga. Lots of people there want to kill me."
Anamaria eyed the Captain specutavily. He always complained when people were attacking him, and yet now it seemed he wanted them to. His sun-bleached brain obviously wasn't working very well.

"Actually," Jack intoned thoughtfully, "Let's go to Port Royal. Drop in on a few...old...friends," He grinned at Anamaria, who looked at him in surprise.
"Jack--CAPTAIN Sparrow," she began, indignant, "Last time I checked, Port Royal was crawling with navy ships!"

"Last time I checked," said Jack, "They couldn't find their arses with both hands and a lantern."
"Last time *I* checked," said Anamaria, mocking his slurred accent, "We were all still *breathing*. I don't know about you, but I'd like to keep things that way."

"You're no fun," said Jack. "No sense of adventure."

Anamaria rolled her eyes, something she frequently did when dealing with Captain Jack Sparrow. "I'm sorry if I want to stay *alive*."

Jack gave her a Look that deserved the capital letter and turned away, humming to himself. He seemed to forget the entire conversation had taken place until Anamaria tapped him on the shoulder.
"Well? Aren't you goin' to order the crew to turn the ship towards Tortuga?" she asked haughtily. The Captain widened his kohl-rimmed eyes at her for a moment before memory flickered in their murky brown depths.
"What? Oh, yes. O'course. MEN!" he yelled, but the crew paid no attention. He frowned and climbed onto the starboard railing, gripping a loose line. "PIRATES!" Everyone stopped working and turned to him. He grinned triumphantly and swayed a bit before speaking.
"We're goin' to Tortuga!"

There was a roar of approval. At last, they were going to do something interesting aside from sailing around on this cursed, deserted sea.
"So...let us go! To Tortuga!" Jack continued. "At once!" He paused. "Avast!" he added, feeling as if he ought to add something pirate-y to his little 'speech'.

There was a chorus of affirmative statements. The ship began to turn in a slow circle as the man at the tiller swung it slowly to the side.

Jack hopped down from the rail after a moment, briefly getting tangled up in the rope he had been holding. Anamaria helped him down, smothering her laughter. He was the most incompetent Captain she had ever seen - except, of course, when he didn't want to be.

He straightened his official Captain's jacket and craned his neck, flapping his hands at her. "I don't need yer help, woman," he said, "I can take care of meself."
Anamaria declined to comment. Jack gave her another of those Looks and sauntered off, shouting random orders that made no sense.
Anamaria stared at the sea for a bit longer. After a moment, she turned to help adjust the running rigging that controlled one of the sails. She watched it unfurl slowly and grinned as the white fabric caught the wind, billowing like an angel's wing.

"Tortuga, here we come..."

The island loomed in the distance, a smoky, dark mass on the horizon. It didn't look very inviting, but that probably was why Jack was drawn to it. The place had an air of danger, of darkness and shadows and mystery lurking around every corner.

That and rum. Rum made the island even more appealing.

"Tortuga," Jack Sparrow announced, "has the best rum in the entire Caribbean."

"Aye," said the hairy, swarthy man standing beside him. He sipped from a hip-flask, and made a satisfied face.
"Gibbs," said Jack thoughtfully after a moment. He ran his hands along the spokes of the helm in front of him. "Am I insane?"

"Eh?" the swarthy Gibbs asked, tucking the flask into his belt. "No, o'course not."
The Captain turned slightly and gave him a look out of the corner of his eye. Gibbs cleared his throat. "Nothin' wrong with bein' a little barmy, Cap'n..." he said slowly.
"Aha, so you DO think I am crazy?" Jack looked triumphant.
"No!" Gibbs said. "Well, maybe a little! But you're a good Cap'n, and that's all that matters."

Jack took one hand off the helm and slapped Gibbs on the back. The bulkier man staggered forward a bit and quickly righted himself. "Good man," said Jack. "Honest man. Honesty is very important when you're a pirate. Honestly."

"Aye," said Gibbs gravely, declining to remind the Captain that pirates in general lied about almost everything. He walked off with the air of a man who has just avoided certain death.

Captain Sparrow twiddled the wheel thoughtfully. "Nothin' wrong with being a little barmy," he repeated thoughtfully to himself. "Hmm."

There was silence apart from the sounds of the sea and the crew bustling about. The sun hung low in the afternoon sky; casting a golden, shimmering glow on the flat, clear seas.

"Tor-tu-ga, Tor-tu-ga," Jack sang after a moment as the little spit of land came closer. "Tor-tu-ga my looove..."

Something hit him in the back of the head. He swore and rubbed the aching spot, half-turning to see the culprit. Anamaria stood behind him, holding a wooden jug. "You have a terrible singing voice," she informed him, and sipped from the jug.

"Rum?" he asked, ignoring her comment. Ana sighed and handed the jug over. Jack downed the burning liquid like a man dying of thirst would drink water. Anamaria watched him in faint disgust.

"Ah," he said as he finished, wiping his bearded mouth with a sleeve. "MUCH better."

"Couldn't you wait until we got ashore?" Anamaria asked as Jack tossed the empty jug over his shoulder, ignoring the ensuing yell of pain. "That was my last one!"

"I'll buy you a drink later," said Jack, waving an idle hand and almost hitting her in the face. She stepped back. "TorTUga," he sang loudly. "Tortuuuuga my looooove--OW!"

Anamaria put her shoe back on and walked off, ignoring Jack's glare.

"Women," he muttered to himself and twiddled the tiller a bit.

"Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em..."