I was inspired to start this story in honor of, March 25, the International Day of Remembrance of the Victims of Slavery and the Transatlantic Slave Trade. All the events in this story take place before the first movie, Curse of the Black Pearl. I do not have any part of the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise, and I only take ownership over the original characters that I made up for this story. Enjoy! I'm apologizing now for any and all typos and spelling/grammar mistakes. Comments and feedback are most welcome!
There is a legend that has resurfaced in recent years, a legend about a great ship that was once envied and feared over any other sea vessel of its time. It was captained by one of the last real pirates of his era, a pirate whose own legacy lies somewhere between fact and fiction. The story goes that this pirate captain was once a valued lapdog for the East India Trading Company, carrying precious cargo across the Atlantic for many years.
But there was one brand of cargo that the captain refused to transport, for he knew that it was far too precious for any man to claim for himself. As punishment for his betrayal to perform his duty, the captain was branded forever as a pirate and his ship along with everything on it was set alight, doomed to meet its end at the bottom of the sea. However at the last minute, the captain refused to watch his treasured ship sink into the sea and in the last moment, jumped onto the flaming ship, apparently destined to go down with it. Just when it seemed that all hope was lost, the pirate made a bargain with the 'Devil of of the Seven Seas', a cursed creature bound to transport the souls of those lost at sea into the afterlife.
The sea devil agreed to resurrect both the captain and his beloved ship in exchange for his soul and a hundred years of servitude. Once the sea captain was reunited with his previously sunken ship, he was set to the task of christening it with a new name. According to folklore, while deciding on what to rename his ship, the captain recalled the gold medallion he had always worn around his neck and never took off under any circumstances. Then right away he got set to work on having a figure carved into the bow of his ship; the image of a woman with long hair and angel wings. Then he added black sails and as a final touch, painted the entire hull of the ship black to match.
Only then did the pirate captain finally unveil the new name of his rescued vessel: The Black Pearl.
She became one of the fastest and fiercest vessels to ever roam the high seas, took part in countless battles, and was infamously recognizable the world over for many years. While the story of The Black Pearl may have faded into history along with countless other tales of pirates from the Caribbean, the fascination with the legacy of the legendary ship still captivates the imagination of historians well into the twenty-first century. Whether the rumors about her escapades are based on real accounts or falsified events, the spirit of The Black Pearl continues to live on.
"Wherever we want to go, we go. That's what a ship is, you know. It's not just a keel and a hull and a deck and sails. That's what a ship needs. But what a ship is...what the Black Pearl really is...is freedom."
-Jack Sparrow
Saint Domingue, 1736
The sun was beginning to set but the heat of the day still lingered over the bustling ship yard.
A few hundred men hustled up and down the port, loading and unloading various goods on and off the ships, shouting and calling out to one another, occasionally stopping to wipe the sweat off their faces with either a handkerchief or the back of their hand. There was a small but much welcomed breeze blowing through the air, making the sails of the large ships flap back and forth. There was talk that a major storm was going to touch down with the next day or so and the ships captains and crewmen wanted to have their wares loaded and accounted for so they could be on their way to their intended destinations with all quickness.
One of these captains was Captain Thomas Delaney, a short, doughy man with a bald head and a red face. He was looking over a long piece of paper in his hands that contained a list of the names of the different cargo going on his ship along with various numbers and figures. He briefly glanced away from his paper when a peculiar image caught his eye; an unusual looking man who was dressed rather bizarrely with tanned skin and hair styled in long, matted locks. The man was chatting animatedly with another more normal looking man who had a slightly distressed expression. He thought he overheard the name "Tortuga" used once or twice. Captain Delaney rolled up his sheet of paper and waddled over to the two men, interrupting their conversation.
"Good afternoon, gentleman," he said by way of greeting.
The two men stopped their chatting and turned their attention to the small, round man who had just spoken to them. The normal looking man gave a quick nod of his head in response to the greeting, but the strange looking man only stared Delaney up and down as if inspecting some rare and previously unknown creature that clearly didn't belong. If Captain Delaney had been paying closer attention he may have taken offense to this, but he was too busy staring back at the oddly dressed man; upon having a closer look, he noted that the man had various beads and objects decorating his matted and tangled hair, his black goatee was braided into two separate strands, and he wore black kohl around his eyes. Any other person might have found these effects extremely unsettling but simple-minded and naturally curious Delaney simply found them fascinating.
"My word!" he exclaimed while peering over his glasses, "You're a peculiar fellow, aren't you?"
The peculiar looking man he just spoken to turned his attention back to his men who were loading large trunks and crates onto his ship.
"On the contrary, mate," he responded with slightly slurred speech, "I'm the most ordinary man you could ever meet."
Captain Delaney was absolutely mesmerized at this point and while he knew he should be keeping his attention on his own ship and its cargo he could not help himself. "Indeed! Thomas Delaney, captain of The Lady Mary." After introducing himself the small man held out a pink, pudgy hand to his chatting partner, who stared at the outstretched hand curiously for a moment, then after a slight hesitation took it in his own hand and gave it a quick shake before letting it go.
"I'm—Smith," he said offhandedly. The then cocked his head to the man standing next to him, who was trying unsuccessfully to hide his discomfort. "This is my first mate, Mr. Gibbs." The man called Gibbs nodded again at Delaney, offering a weak smile.
"I see! Well, gentleman, I hope you'll pardon my interruption but I couldn't help but overhear you mentioning the port of Tortuga and I was wondering if you could tell me—" Before he could finished his sentence the captain was tapped on the shoulder from behind by a large man wearing a green jacket.
"Pardon Captain Delaney, might I have a word? It's urgent."
Delaney stared from the stranger to Smith, his newest acquaintance two or three times, weighing his options before sighing.
"Oh, yes, very well then. Pardon me while I speak to this gentleman for a moment. It shouldn't take long."
The man who called himself Smith barely offered a sideways glance at the little man before he walked off with the man in the green coat. As he turned back to his first mate he became aware that there were several men in green coats now walking through the throng of people along the dock. They carried pistols in leather belts tied around the waists and appeared to be stopping random people and asking them questions. He didn't like the look of it. His first mate had noticed the men in green jackets too and spoke in a hushed tone, "Looks like a storm is headed our way, captain. I think we best be on our way soon. I'll see to it that our crew gets the rest of our shipment on board so we can get the hell out to sea."
The captain muttered, "Good man" as Mister Gibbs scurried down the dock and up the gangplank, giving instructions to the crewman currently loading up the ship. The captain then rummaged in his pocket for a moment and pulled out a compass enclosed in a small wooden case. He opened it and stared at the needle of the compass, as it constantly turned this way and that, pointing anywhere but north. He concentrated on it, crinkling his nose the whole time when he unexpectedly felt a hand on his shoulder which made him jump slightly. It was a tall, slender man, dressed in a green coat like the one who had just ushered away the Delaney man.
"Excusez-moi, monsieur, a moment of your time, please?"
The captain took a small step backwards as he closed the compass and quickly stuffed it back into his coat pocket. Just as he was getting ready to open up his mouth to speak, he saw something behind the man in green that he could've sworn that he imagined; the lid of one of his crates that was prepared to be loaded onto his ship looked like it had just closed shut, but from the inside.
Had anyone else seen it?
No. The dock was too crowded and everyone else's attention appeared to be elsewhere at the moment. Only he alone had seen it.
Once the man in green figured he had the captain's attention he pulled out a long piece of parchment that had an image sketched on it and some words written beneath it.
"We are looking for this girl," the man in green explained, holding up the parchment. "She escaped from a plantation about 15 miles from here and is wanted for killing a man. A large reward will be given to anyone who assists with her capture in any way and she was spotted not far from here a few days ago. Have you seen this girl?"
The captain wrinkled his nose again and squinted at the parchment in front of him before taking it in his own hands. He stared at the rough sketch of the young woman who these men in green were clearly in pursuit of. He quickly tapped on the parchment with his index finger and nodded.
"This girl? Oh, yes, I do believe I've seen this young lass before. Yes, not too far from here I believe."
He was still nodding his head when the bounty hunter took the parchment back.
"Where, monsieur, where?"
The captain raised his eyebrows at him.
"Where what? Oh, where did I see the girl? Oh, right. Yes, I believe I saw her about a mile or two from here. Yes, outside of a rather seedy looking place of business. I'm a man of high morals and reputation so I didn't go in of course, but I recall seeing her at the backdoor begging the landlord for food and shelter. This was about two—no, three days ago. Yes, three days ago, I'm sure of it. It was definitely this girl I saw, I'm positive."
The bounty hunter nodded, then reached into the pocket of his jacket and tossed the captain a brilliant gold coin.
"Merci beaucoup, monsieur. If she is captured you will be well rewarded." The bounty man turned his back and gestured several of his comrades to follow him back up the dock towards the rest of the island. The long haired captain watched him for a minute and then turned his attention back to the gold coin in his hand. He sniffed it, bit it between his teeth, then carefully flipped it in between his fingers before shrugging and sliding it into his jacket pocket.
"Make haste, gentlemen!" he called out to his crewman as they loaded the last of the crates onto his ship, The Wicked Wench. "We set sail at dawn!"
The following morning The Wicked Wench, well stocked with cargo and supplies, sailed out of the port of Saint Domingue at the crack of dawn and was now cruising at a comfortable speed towards its next destination, the port of Tortuga. After having been out at sea for roughly three hours, the captain of the ship had went down to his spacious cabin and studied a large, dingy map spread out on his desk while sipping rum from a glass bottle, his index finger unsteadily tracing across the various landmarks drawn out on the map before him. While their immediate destination may have been to reach Tortuga to gather up more crewman and supplies, his mind was more preoccupied with where he wanted to go next.
He had just taken another swig of rum when there was a knock on his cabin door. He was about to send the intruder away when the door swung open and first mate Joshsamee Gibbs walked in.
"Sorry for interrupting, Captain, but we, uh—have a bit of a problem out here."
"Another navy ship?" the captain asked as he took another hit of rum.
"No, not that. It's um, it seems some of the crewman were inspecting our supplies down in storage, and came across a stowaway."
The captain frowned and lifted his chin at his first mate, "Stowaway? What kind of a stowaway?"
Mister Gibbs rubbed his hand on the back of his neck nervously. "Ah, well you see. . .maybe you should have a look for yourself." He then turned his attention back out the door and gestured inside. "Bring in the stowaway, boys!"
The captain stretched out his neck and watched with curiosity as two of his young crewmen dragged the apparent stowaway into the his cabin; it was a young woman. Each of the young men held onto one of her arms to try and steady her as the captain looked at her from the other side of his desk.
"That's interesting," he declared bluntly.
He slowly rose from his chair and came around his desk to get a better look at the creature. By now several of the other crewmen had crowded into the doorway to get a look at the young fugitive. As he approached the young woman he noticed that she began to quiver and sway on her feet but was forcing herself to keep a straight face. She kept her focus on the far side of the wall and tried to control her shaking breathing as the captain looked her over.
She was more of a young woman than a girl, he decided. No younger than eighteen or nineteen. Her skin was the color of coffee and was petite but with long arms. The dress she wore was dirty, ripped and torn in several places, and it looked as though she had been wearing it for more than a few days. The fact that her hair was in long, dreadlocks similar to how he wore his own mane did not go unnoticed by the captain.
"They found her down in the brig, you say?" The captain asked.
"Aye," Gibbs confirmed. "Apparently she hid herself away in one of the trunks while we were still in port and got loaded onto the boat. None of the crew said they noticed a thing out of order. She won't talk."
After silently looking her over for a few minutes, the captain signaled with his hands for his first mate and crewman to exit the cabin.
"Leave me with her," he said decidedly.
Mister Gibbs made a move to protest but nodded as he ushered the rest of the on-looking men out of the room and back up to the deck before shutting the door closed behind him. After the two crewmen had let go of her arms, the young woman dropped to her knees on the floor, weak with a combination of fear, hunger and exhaustion. She began to plead with her captor, mixing her words with both French and English.
"S'il vous plait, Monsieur. Please, I am so sorry. I did not mean to. They were coming for me, I did not know what to do," she seemed as if she was trying to beg harder than she was, but simply did not have the energy for it. Her voice was small and it seemed to physical pain her to speak. "Have mercy, Monsieur. Ayez pitié. I will do whatever you ask. . ." She kept her face down as she spoke, her hands shaking as she tried to balance herself from her position on the floor. The captain had slowly walked around her while she spoke, examining her from every angle. Finally he stopped in front of her where she could see his black leather boots.
"On your feet, child."
The girl took a deep breath and after some difficulty managed to push herself to a standing position. She continued to keep her head down and nervously tugged at her fingers, her hair hanging limply around her face.
"S'il vous plait, Capitaine, do not throw me overboard, please. . ."
The captain resumed slowly pacing around her, and said, "I will consider your request. Do you have a name?"
The girl nodded and said quietly, "I am called Gabrielle."
He suddenly reached out a hand and cupped her chin, gently tilting her head back so that she was forced to look him in the eye. The sudden touch of his hand on her flesh made her gasp but she did not flinch or try to run as he gazed into her face. She had soft, plump lips, long eyelashes, and deep, ebony-colored eyes. Satisfied, the captain let go of her face.
Yes, it was definitely her, the one that the bounty hunters had been searching the docks for the previous afternoon. It was she he had seen slipping into one of the crates bound for the bottom of his ship. She clearly had an interesting story to tell, but there would be more time for that later.
"Gabrielle," he repeated to himself. He turned his back to her and began to twirl his finger around his goatee thoughtfully. A brilliant idea was slowly starting to take form in his head, and the excitement of it made his lips curl into a roguish smile without even realizing it.
He abruptly turned back around to face the young fugitive, and came to stand before her again. He stared down at her, twirling one of her own locks around his finger before tucking it behind her ear and out of her face. She stared back at him on her own now, not so much in fear but in awe and semi-confusion.
"Gabrielle, my dear, this shall be the day that you will always remember as the day that you first met Captain Jack Sparrow."
Sorry for the long introduction, I kept changing my mind about how I wanted it to flow. So, what do you think? I have a general idea for the direction I want this story to go in. The only thing I'm 100% sure about is how I want it to end. All comments and constructive criticisms are welcome. Thank you so much for reading my story!
