Summary – Soft sand, warm, salty water and a bottle of rum was all he had left for company.
Disclaimer – I do not own POTC, the sea shanty is called "Come Sail Away" by Styx. I am borrowing very much without permission but with intentions of giving it back.
Come Sail Away
"I'm sailing away, set an open course for the virgin sea,
I've got to be free, free to face the life that's ahead of me,
On board, I'm Captain, so climb aboard,
We'll search for tomorrow on every shore,
And I'll try, oh Lord, I'll try to carry on…"
His song sunk as the last wisps of black sail was finally out of site and all he had to gaze upon was the sapphire allure of the Caribbean ocean around him. He was soaking wet from the swim, Jack, former Captain Sparrow of the Black Pearl, peeled off his coat, boots and weapons. Laying his clothing out to dry, he looked around to see what sort of bleeding island Barbossa (the traitorous cur) had left him on.
"Come sail away with me…" he muttered to the soft breeze that danced around him and dried the droplets of sea water. Softly the breeze spoke to him as a friend and Jack turned his face towards it, in a way, he could still feel the Pearl under his hand. Upon opening his dark eyes once more, the fact that he had been too trusting struck him like a woman scorned like which fury hell hath no.
Captain Jack Sparrow was nothing more than a marooned sailor with nothing but a figurative title of which to cling to like a babe to its mother's breast; clinging to that which would comfort him and give him hope when he could ruffle up none on his own. Such a fact made Jack shiver in disgust. He was more disgusted at himself than at Barbossa, now, standing on the sand, just thinking about it, Jack could understand why.
Greedy little sausages, Cuttlefish were, and such was Barbossa.
Weabling along the shore line, Jack decided that a quick turn about the island would help him catch is barring, and maybe he might find some water or food source. Though, he highly doubted it. Barbossa would have picked an island he knew didn't have either substances.
"Bloody good it'll do that smarmy git!" Jack muttered, "A'er all, I am CAPTAIN JACK SPARROW! I'm more clever than that ol' lout! Just you watch, HECTOR BLEEDING BARBOSSA! I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD ON A BLEEDING GOLD PLATER!" Jack yelled into the sun set. Of course, nothing but the palm trees, sand, grass, wind, sun, moon and stars heard the man. Personally, they all thought he was mad from the heat all ready.
Muttering to himself, Jack stalked down the coast line, thoughts of what he would have to catch for dinner brought his attention to the middle of the island where the wood itself was located. Thanks to having to grow up with cousins who were rather incapable on camping trips outside the city of Ship Wreck, Jack had usually been delegated the job of catching fish to roast over the fire. Not to mention the fact that he had to set up camp, light a fire and do practically everything else.
Not that he wanted to go on those bloody stupid camping trips. Jack remembered he'd rather stay at Ship Wreck and catch up on all the pirate ships that sailed in. True, he didn't want to be a pirate, but, the old sea dogs told just gruesome stories that Jack had to find out what happened on their current voyage.
As a child, Jack could count the number of times he'd been kidnapped. The one time someone tried to cut off his hand and the time he had almost been sold as salve. His 'father' (though that was still a bit weird for both of them, Teague always did treat Jack like a father would, even for a pirate) had rescued him all those times.
Now, Jack would give anything to see the Misty Lady on the horizon. He wanted off the bloody island and he wanted it right that second. Of course, Jack had learned that one had to work for what they wanted, no matter what sort of capacity they found themselves.
Turning inland at last, Jack started humming up his tune. Many had said that he liked to hear himself talk; maybe that was why many people didn't bother listening to him. Now, Jack would have liked to have some sort of company. Anyone to bounce idea's off of. Now, humming, maybe his thoughts would leave him be, at least, the more philosophical ones. Jack hated to get philosophical, even on himself, and yet sometimes he couldn't help it.
"Nullum gratuitum prandium," Jack muttered. He'd have to do something.
In land, he had to laugh his arse off, for not only did Barbossa pick an island with absolutely no food or water, but, the only fruit the island had (besides one coconut tree) were plenty of Mora trees, all of which had rather poisonous fruit which was not good for human consumption.
"Fac me cocleario vomere!" Jack said in astonishment. Maybe, that lout wasn't as stupid as Jack had first thought he was. It made perfect sense! Jack had to admit that he would have probably done the same to Barbossa, given him half the chance. Suffering a bit of sanity here, Jack stopped the laughter at once, no way in hell was he like Barbossa! He'd at least have the decency to leave a bottle of rum besides the pistol and one shot.
Thunder in the distance told Jack that he might be in for a rather daunting night.
--
As the first day of him being made governor of the island faded into night, the rain came. It wasn't a hurricane, thank god, but Jack decided that the middle of the island was the safest place to be. It was hard work making his way to the flimsy protection of the Mora trees, the gales of the angry wind reminded Jack of Torrents, a man who made a deal with Davy Jones and was cursed with a storm following at his heels.
It was nights like these that luck were made, though Jack would rather not get bruises or bumps because of it. However, either way he looked at it, after he tripped on that rock, went sailing into a palm and landing on the ground; of which gave way beneath him. Being knocked out for several hours wasn't such a hard price to pay.
--
"Bugger, bugger and bugger it all again…" Jack muttered. His head hurt as if someone knocked him out with an oar. This of course was just absurd sine there was no company with him and no oars. If there was, he could safely assume there to be a boat of which he could paddle off into the sun set with. And since the whole situation was figurative anyway – he decided that he lost what brain cells he had left and had gone completely insane.
Blearily opening his eyes, Jack looked around. Surprisingly he found himself in a man dug hole. On three sides were wooden shelves of which held the one thing on the island that Jack was obsessed with.
Rum.
He was on a rum runner's island, which meant one thing, the rum runners would have to return. And when they did, Jack would take the opportune moment to bargain with them for passage off the island.
The baubles in his hair were good for more than just decoration, after all.
"Well, waist not wants not," Jack muttered as he got to his feet. He grabbed a bottle and climbed out. Around him, the day had just begun, the storm was far off but he could still hear the thunder in the not so far distance. Finding his jacket and boots, Jack laid them out to once again
Jack got himself some wood to lay out as well, now he would spear some fish, roast them and have some rum for all his troubles. Yes, there was a good wind in the sails.
--
"I look to the sea, reflections in the waves spark my memory,
Some happy, some sad,
I think of childhood friends, and the dreams we had,
We live happily forever, so the story goes,
But somehow we missed out on that pot of gold,
But we'll try best we can to carry on…"
Jack sung softly to himself as he sharpened the edge of a stick with his boot knife. He sat in the sand that was beginning be warmed by the Caribbean sun, yet, the breeze was still cool from the night time storm. Jack was sure that he would be damp for a long while coming. He simply hated being damp, but he needed something to eat. He had to wait for the rum runner's to come to their island.
Jack all ready knew what strand he'd give them as well, a strand of sapphire, quartz and moonstone. Jack had had plenty of offers to by that particular braid off his head. He was glad he had kept it though, it was times like these when wearing such trifles in his hair (no matter how stupid anyone else thought it) would come in handy.
"A gathering of angels appeared above my head,
They sang to me this song of hope, and this is what they said,
They said, come sail away, come sail away with me…"
--
A/N – this is a bit of an interlude for you guy's. I might come back and add to it later, but, I don't have a plot for it. The sea shanty reminded me of Jack straight away after reading it. I thought it was like his theme song or something.
Glossary –
Nullum Gratuitum Prandium – There is no free lunch
Fac me cocleario vomere! – Gag me with a spoon!