Chapter 1 – Tortuga Tavern

The island of Tortuga meant different things to different people. To some, it was a hellish place, full of diseased and rotting people, people you couldn't trust and would probably steal from you and double cross you at the first given opportunity. There were no genuine friends in Tortuga. People were too drunk to be trusted and quite often too drunk to even hold a decent conversation. Really, in all honesty, the place was best avoided.

To others, it was a great place, full of taverns and pleasurable company if you so wished. No ties, no rules and no regulations – a place of fun, freedom and madness.

But to Jack Sparrow it was neither of these things. To Jack Sparrow it represented a haven. Somewhere to spend a few days between voyages at sea where no one would bother him, save for the odd drunken brawl. He had recently made quite a name for himself and the British Navy in particular would have been quite interested to catch up with him. And they were certainly not alone. So Tortuga was a great place to hide out and relax for a few days, recruit part of, or a whole new crew if needed and blend in with folk much louder, drunker and wilder than Captain Jack Sparrow was.

Jack smiled to himself as he recalled some of his recent adventures and took a large sip from the rum on his table. Not the best he had ever tasted, not by a long chalk, but it would serve its purpose, he supposed. He grinned as his friend slipped into the seat opposite with an equally large jug of ale.

"And where have you been for the last half hour I wonder?" Jack asked the man. William Turner leant forward over the table and flashed a quick look left and right to ensure no one was close enough to hear them. No worries there then– anyone who was close enough was too drunk to care.

"Do you see the man over there Jack? In the corner, look." Jack blinked and tried to regain his focus as he glanced over to the corner William was referring to. It was difficult to see anything clearly in this tavern which was lit only by candlelight. Three young women were dancing just across from where the two men were sitting, one was helping another on top of the table and she waved at Jack as she stood straight up and then wobbled, as the table legs were obviously not all the same size, and god only knows how much ale she had drank. Her two friends danced round the table and all three were singing a song that, to be fair, they did not seem to know all the words to, as three different sets of lyrics were being sung,or shouted across the room. Two men nearby were engaging in something that resembled a conversation of sorts, and broke into a barrage of shouting, before they laughed loudly and then after clinking their jugs together in some sort of toast, huddled together, as if plotting. Jack himself had a leg propped up on an unconscious man who was lying on the floor, half under the table and half sprawled around one of its legs, causing many a drunken fool to trip over him. The bar was full of loud, drunken men and women, the balcony which allowed those on the first floor to join in with the merriment in the bar, was equally full and every now and again someone would fall off this, or be thrown off it more likely, along with the odd stool or other piece of furniture. Sitting in the main area near the bar itself was actually quite a dangerous option but so far Jack and William had managed to avoid injury.

In the far corner of the bar, almost tucked away out of sight, sat a man huddled over his drink. He was sitting alone and seemed to have an almost ghostly appearance about him, especially in this dimly lit room. It was difficult to see anything clear about him at all, since he was wearing dark, very dirty clothes and a large hat which was pulled down at one side and covered part of his face. His lank, greasy, brown hair hung down past his shoulders and obscured most of his features. He was sitting hunched over his drink which he was holding onto with both hands, as if it might be spirited away if he let go. Although he was facing the noisy crowd, he did not interact with anyone, nor did anyone else seem to notice him. He didn't move, except to take the odd swig from his drink. Other than that, he quietly watched the madness unfold around him, like some ghostly observer. Jack looked at him for a few seconds and then turned back to William.

"I see the man Bill. What of him?"

William checked left and right again and leaned so far forward his nose almost touched Jack's. Jack squinted and shifted back slightly, the rum had taken its hold now and affected Jack's vision to the point that he could almost clearly see two Williams sitting opposite him. One of them was clearer than the other, who had taken onsomewhat ofablurred appearance. It was the clearer William that Jack decided to focus on.

"Rumour is that that man is looking for passage on a ship to Isla de Muerta. He's been here for three nights, talks to no-one and just sits there, staring into his ale." William shuddered as he continued, "There's an unnatural air about that man, you mark my words."

Jack took another swig of rum, unconcerned,"This worries you my friend?"

William shook his head in disbelief. "Doesn't it worry YOU Jack? You've been chasing this legend for the last two years, save for that spell with East India." Jack shuddered at the memory. "All of a sudden, man such as that turns up, just when you have the bearings? You don't think that's odd?"

Jack twirled the compass around in his coat pocket thoughtfully with his hand. As he did so, his coat sleeve rubbed on his wrist and he winced as it caught his newest "tattoo" – a P branded onto his arm, courtesy of the damn East India company.

Jack leaned back on his chair and then jumped forward again, meeting his friend across the table.

"A man such as that holds no worries for me William," he stated, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "The island cannot be found except by those who already know where it is. Now that I have the bearings, we will soon be upon the treasure of Cortes himself. Although," he added, "Perhaps he could do with a little treasure eh? Man such as that, obviously down on his luck." Jack nodded towards the man and looked across towards him as he spoke. As he did so he noticed the table was empty and all that remained was an empty jug. Jack's dark eyes darted around the bar to catch sight of the man, however there was no sign. He shrugged and drank the remains of his rum before staggering to the bar to order another.

As he waited patiently to gain the attention of the bartender, a strong hand suddenly gripped Jack's wrist. He did not try to pull away, instead he turned towards the newcomer and met the eyes of the man he had seen sitting in the corner a few moments earlier. Close up, he was around the same size as Jack, slightly heavier and about ten or fifteen years older, although it was difficult to tell exactly as his face was dirty and weathered. He could have been much younger but tough experiences or a hard life had aged him. He had cruel, but focussed eyes and a grip of a man who was actually much stronger than he looked in his present state.

"Ye'll be Jack Sparrow?" The man enquired, it was more of a statement than a question.

Jack grinned a slightly lopsided grin, "Well now, that would depend on the man who is doing the askin." Jack was aware that the man's grip on his wrist had not lessened any, however he declined to pull away at this point.

The man smiled, however it was a smile that remained firmly at the mouth and did not reach his eyes. Jack thought it was really more of a sneer.

"The name is not important boy. Three days and nights I have been sittin' here waitin' for yeh." He nodded towards the barman, "Smith here told me of your impending visit and Scarlett over there has told me many a tale about yeh to keep me amused." Jack glanced over to the girl dancing on the table. Wearing a red dress and with flame red hair, he doubted her real name was Scarlett and was probably just a nickname. She saw him look and waved again, obviously pleased to gain his attention, even if for a moment. Scarlett. Jack had spent a few evenings with her over the last few years, looking her up whenever he was in Tortuga. Shame though, that she couldn't keep quiet about him, always a problem with girls like that. She wouldn't repeat the legends, the stories of the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow, no none of that, more the information he wasn't so keen to let out - where he was, where he had been and when he was coming back. Too loud and excitable, givewomen a bit of attention and they forgot their place. Scarlett sometimes followed him around like a lost cabin boy and it was no coincidence she was in this verytavern tonight, dancing on the table like a showgirl. He sighed, and tried to re-focus on the man holding onto his wrist for dear life. A difficult task thanks to the pesky rum.

"Well may I enquire as to what you want with me my good man? If I'm worth waiting around for for three days, it must be of high importance." Jack pulled very slightly on his wrist. It didn't move, the man had a grip like a vice.

Smith, the barman put two jugs of rum down onto the bar. The mystery man touched his hat in gratitude and Smith nodded and moved away. The man had not paid for the drinks. "Interesting," Jack thought.

Quick as a flash, the man pulled up Jack's coat sleeve to reveal his Sparrow tattoo and the new "P" which was still red and inflamed.

"So are the stories true lad? Vanished under the watchful eye of seven agents of the East India company?"

Jack smiled, unable to resist the temptation to brag even to a stranger, "They will always remember the day they almost caught Captain Jack Sparrow friend." He took a swig of rum with his free hand and pulled his sleeve back down. There was no knowing who might be watching – a branded pirate was not something to be advertised, not even in a Totuga tavern.

The man released his grip on Jack's wrist and Jack quickly pulled away instinctively. Something about this man made Jack feel a little nervous, and this was not usual for Captain Sparrow who prided himself on remaining happily un-phased during most encounters. The man drew closer to Jack so that they were face to face. His eyes bore into Jack's like burning irons, and he stank to high heaven. The rum Jack had been drinking was still working well and it was all he could do to stop himself swaying backwards, however he slightly shifted his weight to put a little distance between himself and this man, and he managed a quick glance behind the man to see William still sitting at the table where Jack had left him. Jack's friend was watching like a hawk but he had remained in position – typical William Turner, always ready. Even with a barrel full of rum inside him, the man was ready to leap into action at any time to get his friend's back. Jack knew he would stayput to watch events unfold.

"I need passage on your ship boy. Rumours tell me you are in possession of the bearings to Isla de Muerta."

So what William had said was true. He knew. Jack shrugged casually. "That may or may not be true but I would ask you this…." He held up a dirty finger and pointed to his companion's face. "Why a Captain such as myself would be willing or wanting to take you along on any such venture? I see no profit in it for me."

The man's face suddenly changed and became softer for a split second. His eyes narrowed and he moved in again so that his face was an inch from Jack's. "I know yeh here lookin for new crew for this venture o' yours. I have two fine gents with me who work hard and would follow me to tha ends of the earth yeh might say. Name me your first mate and I'll bring em' aboard with me, I've got years of experience and I can hold my own. I've fallen on hard times yeh might say, lookin' to change my luck somewhat."

Jack was suspicious. The man seemed strange and dark, he probably had a hidden agenda and no doubt couldn't be trusted. But Jack liked to try and see the best in people. He was also curious and felt a need to know more about this man. And indeed, how he knew about Jack and the fact that he had only very recently come by the bearings to the legendary island. And if indeed the man had two "fine" sailors with him, where were they? William had said he had been to the tavern alone for the last three nights, apparently waiting for Jack to show up.

Jack needed to buy himself some time. It was indeed true that he needed to recruit a few more men. The passage to Isla de Muerta was no easy ride, even when one knew of the bearings. Stories of freak storms plagued those who attempted to find the place, then there were the rocks, the shipwrecks and the apparent ghosts of sailors past to negotiate the way through. Whilst Jack was doubtful about most of these rumours and stories, he was well aware they had to come from somewhere and didn't want to take any chances at all. "I'm not committing to such a thing," he said suddenly. "I need to think about it and see whether I've room on the ship as it were. Meet me here tomorrow and I'll let yeh know. And I need a name sir, or we've no deal at all. Do we have an accord?" Jack held out his hand.

The man took it with a firm shake. "Very well. Tomorrow it is then Captain Sparrow. And the name is Barbossa."