Chapter 2: A Message From Someone Forgotten

The door slammed shut as Anamaria strode into the cabin.

"Why are we going to Port Royal?" she demanded, crossing her arms.

Jack calmly took off his leather coat and seated himself at his mahogany desk, beautifully designed with ornate carvings. Apparently not at all bothered by the presence of his first mate, he proceeded to remove his effects, replying evenly, "To pick up some supplies, give the crew a break, visit an old friend or two, attend the occasional wedding—"

"You can't be thinking of going to Will and Elizabeth's wedding!"

"Why, love, I am. Is there a problem?" Jack's eyebrows were raised.

"Jack, it's only been five months." Anamaria's temper subsided somewhat, but she definitely still did not look happy with the captain's decision. He had just informed the crew that those who did not wish to be in close proximity to the Navy could stay in Tortuga for some time, for he planned to set sail for Port Royal, which had fairly upset her.

Propping his booted feet on the desk, Jack leaned back in his chair and remarked in a casual tone, "Aye. Who would've thought the whelp could take such quick action? Not a eunuch, then. Maybe."

"Jack…" Anamaria looked exasperated. "Norrington'll have his men watching out for you."

"I know. I'll wave to anyone I recognize."

A smile teased Anamaria's lips, and she made every effort not to laugh. This did not escape Jack's notice, however, who was grinning broadly, revealing four gold-capped teeth that glinted in the candlelight.

"You're daft, Jack."

"Never claimed to be otherwise. Besides, sanity is overrated."

Anamaria rolled her eyes.

"I'll try my hardest to keep myself out of the gaol, alright?" He assured her, then, when Anamaria made no move to leave, he commented, "Are you going to exit my cabin anytime soon, love, or were you hoping to stay the night?"

A loud slap resounded through the room.


Jack inhaled deeply as he sauntered along the cobbled streets of Tortuga, taking in the familiar aroma of liquor, smoke and human perspiration that a normal civilian would find overpowering. Amidst the shrieking voices, mad laughter and frequent strings of curses, scantily-clad strumpets called out invitingly while drunken ruffians engaged themselves in a heated brawl or two. Tortuga was in its usual, noisy state of complete chaos.

"We could've just dropped by and been on our way," muttered Anamaria, who did not appear to be in as high spirits as her companion.

"No hurry, love. It'd be good for you to loosen up a bit, too," said Jack, waving his hands about in a ridiculously exaggerated manner. "Ah, the Faithful Bride. C'mon, I'll treat you to a drink!"

As they approached the tavern's entrance, the wooden door swung open and a hooligan staggered out, reeking strongly of alcohol and swaying dangerously, before abruptly emptying his stomach's contents into a puddle that narrowly missed the pirates' feet. Anamaria scowled at the man, then at Jack, who beamed, flung out an arm and made a low, sweeping bow, like a gentleman giving way to a lady. Anamaria ignored him completely and entered the inn. Not in the least bit offended, Jack followed.

"Captain Sparrow!" The barman called once he noticed Jack come in. Jack, pleased at the use of his title, decided that he would buy a few more drinks that night.

"A message for you! 'S from a William Turner!"

Jack's eyebrows shot up. What would the whelp be doing in Tortuga? He glanced at Anamaria, who was equally puzzled. Jostling his way through the rowdy crowd, he collected the tattered piece of paper from the barman's grimy hands. There were blotches of smudged ink here and there, and whoever had written it had obviously tried to make his handwriting as legible as possible. The strokes were rough, uneven, as if they had been done by a very shaky hand, but strangely familiar.

The extremely short note read:

Jack,

Meet me at the Drunken Donkey, as soon as possible.

William Turner.


TBC