Chapter Two: To Tortuga We Go
Jack Sparrow, still floating someplace in the ocean in his little dinghy that Barbossa so kindly left him as he sailed away in Jack's ship, sat up and looked around to see how much progress he's made. Not much at all. He realized that his cherished hat was off seconds after and placed it on his head again, and secured it there. Jack looked to his left and picked up a dirty rum bottle that was lying next to him and uncorked it. He held it over his mouth and expected rum to come pouring out into his dry mouth, only to have a few drops fall from the opening of it. "Empty." Jack complained as he tossed the bottle into the ocean in disgust. "Bloody empty. Why is the rum always gone?" He pulled out his compass, which showed the user the way to whatever it is they wanted, and opened it up. It spun around a little and stopped after a little bit.
"I know what I want, and I want some rum..." He thought to himself, eyes clamped shut, hoping that the compass would point to somewhere decent (at least for him) where there'd be rum. It pointed to the East, to an island that looked very familiar to Jack, which had just come into view. Even from this distance he could hear the raucous music and occasional gunshot. "And what better place to find some." He shut the compass and picked up some oars. He looked back and saw Gibbs, fast asleep. Jack managed to head back shortly after setting sail, because he needed Gibbs...to row the boat. "Mr. Gibbs!"
He shot up and practically tossed his makeshift teddy bear off of the boat in shock. He looked around for a few seconds after rubbing his eyes, trying to fix his focus. "Yes, cap'n?"
Jack looked at him disapprovingly and then smiled. "Asleep again, eh?"
"No, Jack...just," He placed the ragged and plain looking teddy bear down at his feet, "resting me eyes."
"In other words," He raised a hand up, pointer finger extended, "you were sleeping," Jack said as he held out the oars for Gibbs to take. "And sleeping will not be tolerated on me..." Jack was going to say 'ship', until he realized the small dinghy they were in, "boat, unless I'm asleep. But I don't feel sleepy so stop sleepin'. Got it?"
"Got it." Gibbs said quietly as he grabbed the oars and began to row. "So, where be it we're goin', captain?"
Jack looked ahead at the island and then back at Gibbs with a large smile on his face. "Tortuga."
~~Later~~
Jack rowed into the port at Tortuga shortly after the sun set, letting the boat smack up against it. Jack really didn't care for this boat, as it were. He simply stepped out of the boat rather than tying it up to the dock. After all, there's bound to be a better ship than that lying around for the taking, which is just what Jack intended to do. After a bit of drinking, of course.
Mr. Gibbs struggled to get out of the boat as easily as Jack did, but eventually made it onto the docks. He stuffed his poorly made bear into his shirt and followed Jack, wherever he was headed. They walked down the dock and towards the town area, going past various drunken and otherwise rough and irreputable citizens of Tortuga. These were the type of people Jack felt right at home with.
Every now and again, Jack would have to step over some passed out drunks that lay there helplessly. "Pardon me, mate." He said as he stepped over a rather portly fellow. He looked over to Gibbs, who was walking with him to his left. "There is no place as wanting or as luminous as Tortuga, Mr. Gibbs."
"Aye, makes a pirate feel right at home, it does." Gibbs watched as a few men were thrown out of a bar that they were approaching - one of many on the island. One landed into a puddle of brown water, which - hopefully, for his sake - was just mud, and the other landed on top of him.
Jack was about to enter said bar when he spotted a familiar face by the door. "Ah, Isabella." He approached the woman. but was immediately greeted with quick a slap to the face. "Yup, right at home," he said, rubbing the side of his face with a grimace of pain. He turned and watched as the woman walked away, greeting other men as she passes them.
The two entered the bar, filled with inebriated men dancing wildly, talking too close to each other, and gambling their stolen riches away. Jack, knowing exactly what he wants, immediately went up to the barkeep and asked for some rum. Gibbs parted ways and went to look for an open table for them to sit at, which isn't easy to come by in such a place. Most tables are either sat at or have passed out people lying on top of them.
Jack grabbed the two cups that the barkeep handed him and looked around, trying not to spill his rum as people kept almost running into him. He eventually found Gibbs sitting rather far away. He made his way to the table, sipping some rum as to 'keep it from spilling'. He sat the cups down and took a seat across from his first mate. He slapped Gibbs' hand harshly as he tried to grab a cup from Jack. "Oi, my rum. Get your own, mate." Both cups were apparently for Jack, as sailing as long as he did in that little dinghy will do that to a man.
"Right, captain." Gibbs straightened up and leaned in to talk to Jack a little more privately. "So what are we doin' now without the Pearl? I mean, we can't exactly go after this fountain in that little dinghy...can we?"
Jack gulped down one of the cups and slammed it down on the table. "We can do it, but we won't, savvy?"
Gibbs looked a tad confused at Jack's usual demeanor, struggling to figure out what he planned to do. "Then what will we be doin'?"
"I plan to drink, fight, and gamble my black guts out all night until I get a captain to pass out dead drunk, and then steal his bloody ship." He lifted up his cup and smiled, feeling like his plan was foolproof. "And then, well, we do what we do best."
Gibbs smiled back and nodded. "Take what we can?"
Jack lifted his cup higher. "Give nothin' back." He gulped down that cup and slammed it down onto the table. Gibbs would have done the same, but he had no drink to speak of because of Jack. "You..." He thought for a second and waved his hand a little at Gibbs, "go do whatever. Leave it all to me, savvy?" He got up and staggered around, hoping to find a worthy opponent to drink under the table.
He found one sitting in a corner table, alone. The man appeared to be of Spanish origin, and his features were delicate, almost feminine, Jack thought with a smirk, with the small mustache he sported the only major hint as to his masculinity. "Aha." He looked like a likely candidate - assuming he had a ship worth commandeering.
He made his way over to the table and cleared his throat, which gained no response from the other man. Jack cleared his throat a little louder, hoping this time to get his attention. The man still looked at the coin he was flipping around his fingers. Jack coughed loudly, but still failed to get his attention. "Oi," Jack shouted.
This managed to make the other man look up and see Jack standing there, smiling at him. He gestured for Jack to come and sit with him at the table.
"How very kind of you, mate." Jack sat down in the seat across from him and immediately noticed the coin the man was flipping, it was what appeared to be pure gold. This little fact made Jack want to subdue him even more, seeing as he could possibly be a very rich man.
The Spanish man flipped the coin into the air and caught it as it came down, then looked at Jack. "Jack Sparrow."
Jack raised a finger at this statement, as he wasn't addressed correctly. "Captain Jack Sparrow, if you please."
"Of course, Captain." The man stopped flipping his coin and placed his hands on the table, one over the other. "What brings you to my table, my friend?"
"Well," Jack looked at the rings on the other man's fingers, which were all gold, and placed his hands on the table in the same fashion. "I'm in need of a ship, as it were."
"I am saddened to say that my ship will not be accepting passengers at this time, Captain." He tapped his fingers on the table a little bit and chuckled. "Unless of course there was an offer placed before me."
"Then allow me to do some placing." Jack pulled out the map he had stolen from Barbossa and placed it on the table. "This," he said as he unrolled it for the Spanish fellow to look at. "will lead you places beyond your imagination, mate. I should know, I was saved from me imagination because of this."
The other man leaned in and moved the map piece around slightly. "It is movable." He spun it around until he noticed a certain location that caught his attention. His eyes narrowed, and he began pulling the map closer, as though to get a better look at it.
"It makes more places available to you, savvy? But," Jack quickly took the map back and rolled it up before placing it on the bench at his side, "it's only available if a ship is made available to meself and my Gibbs."
"What is a 'Gibbs'?"
Jack blinked a few times and looked for Mr. Gibbs to point him out, but couldn't find him anywhere. He shrugged and turned back to the conversation. "It's more of a who, if you will. But that's not important. What is important is: I need a ship, and you have a ship."
The Spanish fellow sat back in his seat and crossed his arms. "Well, this is all very interesting, Captain Jack." He made a slight gesture with his hand, his fingers twitching a bit before he brought it up to stroke his mustache. "But I'm afraid I will be declining."
"Very well, mate. I hope you won't miss your ship too much." Jack said, making his intent to steal it quite clear. He stood up and looked at the man a little closer. "By the way, your mustache...it's very funny." Before he could turn around, Jack was struck in the back of the head by a man with a bottle, and fell onto his face without another word. The man, who had been hidden in the shadows up until that point, looked at his captain and nodded.
The Spaniard got up, pocketed the coin, and walked away casually, as though nothing unusual at all had happened, followed by his burly companion. No one else in the establishment paid them any heed, not even Gibbs, who had finally gotten his hands on a large tankard of rum, and had begun regaling those around him with stories about sea turtles. The Spaniard and his henchman were joined by one other as they made their way out of the bar, and as they left, a slightly battered, rolled up piece of parchment was passed to the Spaniard.
Jack, meanwhile, lay on the ground, out cold from the hit. Two men stepped up next to him and stood over Jack.
"What d'you s'pose we do with him?" one of them said quietly, his voice quiet but rough.
The other man responded thoughtfully, "It's bad luck to wake a sleepin' man, you know..."
