Voice of the Sea

Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. Captain Jack Sparrow, the Black Pearl, Anamaria, and anything else I did not mention are not mine. Nothin'. Nothin' but this story and Charity. I ain't claimin' it's mine. So back off. Please?

Italics mean thinking. Everything else is standard.

I would like to thank my friend Kyu for helping tremendously in this story...without her, it would not be here. Thank ya, love. I have worked insanely hard to make this as historically accurate as possible, however, Disney has this habit of butchering historical accuracy, so, I've improvised as much as possible. I'm going to make mistakes, obviously, and I'd love to hear of them if you spot one. This is a very slow start, but it's all I have to offer you all now. Now, onward!

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The sun was harsh, he noted, harsher than usual. The air was muggy and thick – it was like walking through water, just without the wet. Not that he minded the wet one bit. On the contrary; he greeted that stimulating relief when ocean waves swept over his body mercilessly, swallowing him alive like a raging beast that never slept, waiting patiently for more to fall for it's crafty tricks. The ocean was his home...it was freedom. No restraints, no ties, no responsibilities, no worries, no cares, save the occasional storm. That was how he liked life. Unexpected and wild was how he had always lived it, of course, with only one goal in mind. Freedom.

Freedom was home.

Freedom was Captain Jack Sparrow.

Of course, freedom was getting harder to obtain. Jack gave the helm of the infamous Black Pearl an idle spin, the ship groaning and relenting to his wishes. Intent brown eyes looked over the blue expanse surrounding him. All that met his eye was endless water and a horizon that was just as seemingly infinite. Saint Lucia was only a few hours away and he could taste the freshly smuggled rum already.

The British and French had been fighting over the small island for awhile now, but they were unaware of a small town that pirates docked at and smuggled stolen goods. It was also a hot spot for slave trading, he had heard. Not that Captain Jack Sparrow was interested in anything of the like; in fact, he was against slavery for it deprived people of their freedom, and that was a heinous crime. Jack couldn't even bear the thought of being forced to wait hand and foot on some snooty upperclassman, grooming and feeding their snot-nosed children. The very thought caused a shudder to ripple up and down his spine.

The idea of going to Saint Lucia was sprung upon the Captain by Anamaria, actually. She had approached him earlier about there being a short stock of rum and edible food and had pointed out that they were near the wee island of Saint Lucia. That being said, Jack was all over the idea of heading to land to restock on rum. Besides, the crew had been working hard, and some rest on land with the pleasurable company of some willing ladies would do the men good.

He took a deep breath, the salty air filling his lungs and he released, the sigh breathing through his nostrils. Everything was running smoothly so far. The British Navy was still after him, of course, which came as no surprise. He had taken Commodore Norrington to be a persistant individual, so he had expected him to begin the chase as soon as he had sailed off on the Black Pearl at Port Royal. He was not right at all for Elizabeth Swann, he had concluded, but maybe his boring personality could have toned down Elizabeth's rum burning, adventurous habits.

That thought was still bitter and heavy on his half-cooked mind.

A rough hand delved into his pocket, withdrawing a small weathered compass. Flipping it open, brown eyes examined the needle spinning within the small glass dome. Southwest. Perfect.

We'll be docking in Castries in no time, Jack practically grinned. He snapped the compass shut and dropped it back into the pocket, the weight tugging at his jacket. Gripping the helm, he bellowed to the crew scuttling about, "On your feet, you miserable mutts! We'll be boarding Castries Port before the night's end. We remain there for the night."

Jack watched as the crew offered a few shouts of understanding and skittered to their duties. He ran his hand over the helm's structure, caressing it affectionately.

M'love, it's good t' have you back.