I have had this story written for some time, and have simply not paid it it's due attention. I hope you like it :-)
The Great Escape
He ran as fast as he could, cursing himself for ending up on the same buggering island after he swore never to return. The swaying and fear intoxicated captain ran through the jungle, flying past wild animals and leaping over the deadly scorpions which littered the ground every so often. He threw himself over a hundred foot drop, landing precariously on the adjoining cliff. His eyes widened as he feared he would topple over into the deadly waters below, but instantaneously re-established his balance when he felt the jet stream of a poisoned arrow sailing passed his ear. His eyes widened further and he continued his inhumanly speedy retreat, knowing that the drop would buy him a head start on the heathens pursuing him. Moments, if not hours, passed and he eventually stopped running, savouring the painful gasps of free breath intake.
While stumbling forward as he watched the empty quagmire of greenery behind him, he suddenly walked headlong into something solid and terrifyingly alive. He collapsed back on his arse from way too much physical exertion, and could only helplessly gape at his impending doom. Feebly he tried to crawl backwards, not giving in to surrender; when he suddenly realized he was not starring at a cannibal crazed native. There before him stood a legend: the Great (if not always enthusiastically sung) Captain Jack Sparrow. He wiped at his forehead, not entirely sure that the humidity hadn't gotten to his already addled brains. Perhaps this was a mirage, or perhaps he had finally gone mad with hopelessness at an impossible escape. All he could do was gape.
Sparrow looked down on the poor excuse for an escapee, and sashayed towards him for a better look. Pointing down at his young and confused looking companion he slurred drunkenly, "Will you be coming along then, or do ye intend to stay an wait for the charming inhabitants to welcome you back into their hospitality?"
Seeing that Sparrow fully expected the obvious answer to that silly question, he furrowed his brows and promptly replied, "Well I done intend to become Thanksgiving feast if that's what yer wondering. I'm just catching me breath!"
Sparrow quirked a brow at the whelp as if he deemed him insane, but offered him a hand up all the same. The self righteous young man pushed himself up off the ground under his own steam and glared at the man before him. "Yo're wanted all over the Caribbean 'Mr.' Sparrow."
"It's 'Captain' Sparrow boy. An don't you think that's rather irrelevant at the moment, given our present circumstance?" Jack made exaggerated hand gestures behind the lad.
He raised his characterful brows and gasped at the new hoard of lunatics coming at them. He looked back at Sparrow, but found that he no longer stood before him: the Captain having taken flight the instant he turned his head. He growled in frustration and tore out in pursuit of his only hope: the legendarily slippery jail bird. Having rested some moments, however minute they might have been, he again reached his extraordinarily swift stride and was able to catch up Jack. "Captain Smith! At yer service…ye bloomin' thief!"
Jack simply gave one of his signature smirks and waved his hand in a bowing fashion as they both ran for their lives.
Enthralled they were in the pursuit of salvation: so much so that they suddenly came to a screeching halt as their boots skidded. They had reached the edge of the highest cliff on the island which dropped directly into the deep blue sea.
Exchanging earnest looks, Jack yelled, "Don't look back lad!" before they plunged in sequence: taking the leap of faith for all it was worth.
It was like nothing Smith had ever been through: quite exhilarating in point of fact. To plunge into the unsure abyss holding quite possibly sure death, and yet doing it in the necessity of the moment. It filled his veins with fire and anticipation, making his heart soar with a love only a seaman could harbor. He hit the water perfectly, and as expected delved very deep very fast. The velocity had been great, and he would have been surprised if he hadn't reached the bottom in a matter of seconds. He was of course a good swimmer and exercised his skill with alacrity lest he be the victim of drowning in his own swells. When he breached the surface with another painful gasp, he saw his only hope sailing away from him. How the Devil had Sparrow gotten to the ship so bloody fast! Well he was no dupe. He was fast himself. He tore out swimming for all he was worth. He gave his last chance at survival the kind of raw passion that had gotten him out of the soup pot in the first place: unlike many of his poor crew who were now no more. With great effort and ungodly struggle he finally reached the rope ladder and climbed it. At the top was an extended hand and a signature smirk awaiting his arrival ... The End.