Young Jack Sparrow:
In the 1700s, in the Caribbean. Tortuga. A messy place, really. Lots of fights. But that's where he was born.
Jack was born pirate, through and through. But in some ways, he hated piracy.
From his very earliest days, all he could remember was torture. All his family beat him, almost hated him, mainly because he was an only child, and so different.
He was the son of one of the Pirate Lords, Teague Sparrow, who, when Jack was about eight years old, became Keeper of the Code.
Jack himself sometimes thought he wasn't really a part of that family, wasn't really related to them. He was considering running away, finding his true family, or at least his way of life. It was one terrible night that drove him over the edge.
It was his twelfth birthday, actually, though no one but him knew it. Everyone was drunk, as usual. The beatings were worse. Teague told him to go get more rum, but Jack had had enough. He said, "No." Everyone stopped and stared. "You'll do what you're told, boy, and gladly!" Teague yelled drunkenly. Jack ran. He gathered his few possessions, and some coins, in a sack, and left. He made his way to the docks, and slipped onto the unguarded deck of a promising ship.
The next morning, he snuck up on deck and watched the sun rise. To him, it seemed a better dawn than any other, the dawn of a new life. A life of freedom. The dawn of his new life of freedom. No more drunk maybe-his-relatives,no more beatings, nothing but the sea he loved. Standing on the deck of an unknown ship, he had an image of himself, a Pirate Lord, a captain of a beautiful, well-armed, swift ship. He was, at last, free!