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Pirates of the Caribbean:
LIFE AS A SPARROW
BY Marlonian Hayes
Chapter 2: Fire In the Night
Five years later…
He laid on his bed staring at the wooden beams above him. Outside, the sky was dark, and the sea darker. Stars stretched across the heavens, and the moon shone down on the ever turning waters. Living close so close to the shore was a peaceful life. Every night he went to sleep with the sound of waves rolling onto the sand, washing in his ears.
Yet now, no sleep would come to him. Five years ago his father had left him, four years ago he gave up waiting for him to return. It saddened the boy to remember his mother's grief that day, and the final words his father and him had before parting. Now, when his day of birth was once again coming, the voice of James Sparrow echoed in his head.
Morning always brought a smile to the young boy's face. The sun rising, the birds singing, all of it signaled a new day, and new possibilities. Sitting up, Jack rubbed his eyes, and ran stiff fingers through unruly hair. A white nightshirt, too big for him, hung loosely off his shoulders. Sniffing, and scrunching his nose, the seven year old boy finally swung his legs over the side of the bed and touched the cold wooden floor.
Quickly he pulled on a pair of brown pants, and tied his red scarf across his forehead. Normally, Jack would not be up this early, nor would he dress himself so hurriedly. However, this was a special occasion, for it was after all, his seventh birthday. For weeks he had anticipated for this day. His father had promised to take the young boy sailing that afternoon on one of the trade boats. Placing a wide smile on his face, Jack headed for the door.
It was then that he heard something unusual. Not even his parents were up this early, and yet there was someone shuffling around in the room on the other side. Curious, the young boy twisted the handle and peeked through a small slit.
Between the door and the frame, he could see a tall figure filling a bag with several items. At first fear came to Jack, for he thought it a thief; it was not until he saw that it was the pack he had made for his father one year, did he relax. "Must be preparing for our little trip on the boat." Jack whispered to himself. Smiling, he began to push the door open a little more. He only stopped when he saw his father pick up the loaded pack and head out the door. It was a moment later that his mother raced into the room and looked around frantically. Not seeing his door open, the young woman raced out the door at spotting the man walking down the street.
Fearing that his parents were leaving him, and going somewhere, young Jack fully pushed the door open and sped out the door. Afraid of getting in trouble, he did not call out to his mother.
The young woman rounded a corner and headed for the docks. The young boy was about to follow here, when he heard her scream his father's name. "James!" Not wanting to get caught, Jack hid behind a crate in the street above the docks. Unfortunately, the item only hid him from their sight, but from their words.
Tears poured down his cheeks as he heard the two adults arguing. 'Why does father not want to stay?' Questions raced through his mind, questions that could only be answered by the departing man. Finally, the arguing ceased, but for a moment. Then all other speech was blocked out after he heard, "No, Jack does not need me-" It was his father who spoke, and the words frightened him. They were a gurantee of his departure.
Only a moment passed before the boy saw his mother race around the corner. Tears spilled down her cheeks. The young woman stopped abruptly, and fell to her knees. With her head in her hands, she began to cry harder than the boy had seen anyone cry before.
Not thinking, and not wanting to think, Jack lurched forward from his shadowed hiding place, and ran past the woman.
It was not long before his feet hit sand, and his dark eyes spotted his father upon the deck of a ship. The young man was leaning against the rail, and had his back faced to the town. Shouting as loud as he could, Jack ran towards the water, and soon touched the wet sand by the water. "Daddy! Daddy!" the man at first did not seem to notice his cries.
Finally, James Sparrow turned around to see who was calling him. His eyes widened with horror when he saw his son waste deep in the salty water. Jack's small body seemed to be struggling against the strong under current. "Jack! What are you doing!" At his yelling, several of the crew came a little closer to James' position and took a look out. They gasped when they saw such a young child testing the raging sea.
"Wait daddy! I am coming with you." Another wave of horror struck the man, and his gut tightened into a knot. If the child were to drown, it would be his fault. 'Angela would never forgive me.'
Almost screaming, James shouted back to his son, "No! You can't!"
"But you won't come back."
"What?" the man had spoken to himself, and then realized that Jack would not stop coming until he gave him reassurance, or until the boat was out of sight. Since the second chance was impossible because of how tall flat the ocean was, he decided to coax the boy back to shore. "Jack! Jack turn back. I promise, I will come home someday soon. I promise!"
"Really?!" now the water was at mid torso and swirling fast around the boy. More than once he stumbled and nearly caught his balance before falling into the restless waters.
"Yes, yes. I will return. Now back to your mother!" James watched with relief as the boy nodded with a blank expression, then began to trudge back to shore. His feet hit soft sand, and then solid ground. Sitting on the beach, Jack looked back towards the water. That was when the rain started. He must have sat their for hours before his mother found him.
"You promised," Jack scowled at the ceiling, and then drifted into a sleep. His dreams were filled with angry images of his father, and his mother. Always, his mother cried with pain as his father again, and again beat her. Rage would build up in Jack until he lashed out at his father with all his strength. Every dream ended the same. His mother dead from the beating, his father dead from the blood on his hands, and Jack stood alone in a room that was slowly filling with water.
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Morning came, and Jack no longer awoke with a smile. Instead he would glare at the door, and curse his father for never coming through it. Now, his nightshirt was just the right fit, and tight at the shoulders. His black hair was longer, and always tied back in a ponytail. The red scarf he got for his fifth birthday, found itself around his head constantly. Over the years it had gathered small trinkets to it; mostly including beads and coins. Sighing, he swung his legs onto the floor, and began to get dressed.
Ever since he gave up hope on his father ever returning, Jack had began to change. No longer was he the once cheery boy that his mother remembered, but instead a delinquent, that the townspeople constantly had complaints about. The first incident was his playing with the other boys. They would ask him to play only on rare occasions, because they knew his dad had left him. Because of this, he was named the son of a pirate. Still, this did not effect him much, for he would only chant back at them, "Well, if my father's a pirate, than I will be one some day. From now on, you will only call me Captain Jack Sparrow!"
One time, a boy took this a little too far. At nine years old, an older, bigger boy had called him Jack chicken; to insult the child more, he said the title 'Captain' did not belong to such a scoundrel. Growing angry at the boy's teasing, Jack remembered something his father had told him. "Always stick up for yourself." Constantly he would remind himself of this, and took the meaning a little too literal.
As the other boys were laughing at the jokes, some of them he considered friends, young Jack furrowed his brow, and launched himself at the larger boy. Immediately the effect of his sudden attack showed. Surprise was at Jack's advantage, and he quickly defeated the other boy with two blows to the chest, and one to the head. While the older child was rolling on the ground in pain, four of his friends jumped Jack.
Fighting fair would not work for him, so when they lifted him off the ground, he disposed of them by kicking them where it hurt. Yet still, two of the boys stood and took hold of Jack's arms. Now the first boy to be hit stood barely to his feet. Wiping away the mud on his hands, he curled up a fist, and Jack was soon bending over on the ground. His arms wrapped around his stomach, and blood dripped from his nose after the older boy kicked him. The five of them laughed again and walked away.
That was the first time Jack ever had physically hurt someone, and even though he thought otherwise, he done more damage to the boys that he knew. From then on, all of the children avoided speaking with Jack, soon making him a solitary boy. Since his mother was working all day, she could not be there to help her son. It no longer became a surprise when Jack would come home with bruises and a cut lip.
At the age of ten was when he first stole from someone. His mother was out working again, and all their food was gone. Feeling that there was nothing he good do for something to eat for lunch, Jack fell into his mother's rocking chair and thought. Finally, it struck him that one of the boys' father owned a bakery. Before he had beaten on the older boy, the baker's son had told him that their family never locked the door and his father always went fishing at the beginning of the month.
It was the first week in June, which meant the family would be gone. A sly smile came across Jack's face as he slunk out the back door. Fortunately, Jack did not have to be too secretive, even though he still was just to make sure, because there was a thick fog in the air. One could hardly see three inches in front of their face.
Nevertheless, the boy made it to his destination. What the baker's boy had said was true, for the back door simply creaked open. No one was inside, not a single sound was made, except for the slight thud of Jack's booted feet. Thinking better than to take a chance, the boy took of his boots and walked solely on his socks.
Sneaking to the counters, Jack took all different sweets. Finding clothes, he placed the sweets inside them, and then slipped them into his boots. It was not until each boot was filled with cupcakes, muffins, a piece of cake on top of each pile, sweets, and a jar of jelly filling, did he stop and leave.
Jack made it home, and stashed the stolen food under his bed. The choice was a bad one, but he saw it necessary. For two weeks after that, all his mother was able to buy was bread and cheese. Jack would only eat half of his meal each night, and give it to his mother. Being concerned for her child, Angela always held onto it until she was one-hundred percent sure he full. After dinner, and for most of the day, Jack would always go into his room, and this only made Angela wonder even more.
Now, at the age of twelve, he had stolen more times than he could count. Whenever anything went missing, people would storm to Angela's house and ask to see her son. Jack would slip out the back door, and run towards the shore. When the townspeople would find him, and question him of the missing item, he would pretend to have never heard of it, and proclaim he had an alibi. It was always, that he was in his room.
"I don't believe him!" The accuser would always say, and yet there would be no evidence of his departure. No one had ever seen Jack leave the house during the certain hours that the item was stolen. When in fact, he would leap out of his bedroom window, and hide in the garden until he crawled to the back of the house and disappeared behind the houses.
Every thievery Jack regretted.
Finally the preteen pulled over his black shirt. There was a V shaped collar, and the sleeves hung loosely on his arms to button up at the end. A pair of brown pants, with rims turned up halfway to his knee, and a pair of fading black boots, covered his lower half. Sighing, Jack rubbed his face with one hand. Each morning, he found it even more difficult to wake up.
As his large, smooth hand slid down his face, it stopped and rubbed his chin. The stubbles of a beard found their way across his lower jaw. Smiling at the new discovery, Jack moved out of his room and into the kitchen.
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With a sigh, Angela sat back down in her chair at the table. The last few months had been harder than ever for her. The food supply was low, and her employer was lowering her wage even lower each year. Soon, the young woman would be working for pennies. One thing was a blessing though, Jack was old enough to have a job.
In fact, he already did. The man who owned the docks had been a personal friend of James Sparrow, and gladly accepted Jack as one of his employees. Angela's son spent most of his time loading crates onto ships, and taking inventory. The extra job brought in extra money, and finally things were beginning to look up. Another benefit of the job was that it kept Jack out of trouble. The number of people seeking to blame the boy for stealing had lessened to but one person, the baker Trom.
Now Angela sat at the table, and watched as a small black cauldron of porridge began to heat up over the fire. The kitchen was a fairly small room. The longest wall ran about 3 meters across. The ceiling was only 2 ½ meters high, and wooden beans stretched across it; above was a thatched roof. There were five walls in total. One was split in half by the door that lead to the living room. On one wall was a stone oven, next to it a brick fireplace. About 1 ½ meters from the ground, wooden cabinets ran along two of the walls. The smallest wall held a window in it, that looked out unto the hills behind the Sparrows' house. Next to the window was the small table for two, that Angela now sat at.
In her hand was a tin cup, and inside that was a dark black liquid. Taking a deep breath, and licking her rosy lips, Angela gulped down the bitter, hot liquid. With a sudden, "Ahck!" her tongue flicked out and licked the right side of her mouth.
Then came a laugh she enjoyed hearing more than anything. It was young, and joyous. The young woman looked up into deep, amused eyes. They glinted with happiness, as did her own green ones. Jack shook his head at his mother, and then moved across the small kitchen.
Bending over to smell the pot of porridge, he scrunched his face into a confusing look, as if not able to describe how the breakfast smelled. Shaking off the sudden shock, the dark haired boy walked over to his mother and placed a morning kiss on her cheek.
"Good morning, mother. I thought I told you," Jack took the chair across from his beloved mother, and realized just how small the kitchen was. His chair pushed up against a wall, and barely left room for him to squeeze in. "I thought I told you that the coffee would taste much better if you waited until my next payday. By then, I will have enough coins to buy sugar and cream. If we have to, I will do twice the work to get more money for supplies."
Angela shook her head, with her eyes closed. "No, that will not be necessary my son," she placed the tin cup on the table, "I will do with this bitter cup of hot water and crushed beans. We need that money you are bringing in to buy you some more tools. Possibly a small pack animal; you know, to help me with carrying materials from one store to another. That way I do not tire myself from having to drop off my supplies after each store." The woman nodded her head slightly, as if to emphasize her point. Then, her jade green eyes looked out over the hills, and watched carefully as two black birds dove across the sky.
It was few quiet moments after that; then the porridge was done. While Jack got the bowls, Angela took the pot off the fire. Pulling out a large ladle, she proceeded to scoop half the pot into the boy's boil, and half into hers.
Picking up a worn spoon, Jack was about to dig in, when he actually took a close look at the porridge. It was a horrible gray, and with god as his witness, he swore he saw a face in it.
Gulping, Jack looked up at his mother, who sat eating the lumpy meal without hesitation. "Mother?"
"Hmm?" she looked up from her food and smiled at her son. "What is it Jack?"
"May I- may I eat my food in my room? I have some things to grab before I leave for the docks." Angela shook her head 'yes,' and watched as the dark haired boy quickly disappeared through the doorway, walked across the living room, and shut himself in his room. Sighing, the young woman went back to eating her food. That was when she finally took a good look at it. It was a horrible gray, and with god as her witness, she swore she saw a face.
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Letting out a breath he did not know he had been holding, Jack walked over to the window and opened it. Being careful not to get the hot contents on his fingers, poured the soupy porridge out the window. His mom would be off to work soon, as would he, and she would not notice the small pile of porridge outside his window. If she did look at that spot in the next few days, the food would have already been stolen by rats and mice.
Jack kneeled on his bed, and bent over to see under the bed. His black ponytail mixed with the tie of red scarf, as his curious eyes scanned what lay underneath.
Bundles of cloth were clumped towards the very back, and the boy had to be careful while reaching for a red cloth. His fingers stretched as far as they could, but it was useless. Sighing, Jack let his arm fall lax. The sudden relief from pressure sent his body over the side of the bed and onto the floor.
Sighing once again, the boy scooted on his back and finally just grabbed the cloth. "Always taking the hard route first, aye?" Staying half way under, Jack unwrapped the cloth and pulled out a small honey muffin. Then his long fingers tied the red material once again, and placed it over with the other three bundles.
Swiping away cobwebs from his face, the boy brought himself out from the under the bed, and sat up. With a sly smile on his face, Jack began to eat away on the muffin.
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The dark haired boy's lungs filled with the fresh, salty air of the sea. In his hands was the last of the crates he was to unload from a ship that had come from Port Royal. With a sigh, and a splinter in his arm, Jack placed the crate with the others on the sand. Wiping his hands, the boy looked towards his boss.
A short man, with a bare chin, and large glasses, looked down at a piece of paper in his hand. Scanning over the crates, he smiled and nodded towards Jack. "Aye, you have done two days' work. Now, it is late, and the moon is showing; go home before your mother has a heart attack wondering where you are!" The man pointed a thin, knotty finger at the young boy. With his smile spreading even wider, Jack thanked Trom and ran up towards the town. His booted feet clacked against the stone streets as he raced to get home.
What neither the boy, nor the man, saw was the approaching black sails.
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"Mom?" Jack opened up their front door and leaned in. His voice seemed to echo in the darkness. When no answer came from any of the rooms, the boy stepped further into the doorway. Shutting the oak door behind him, Jack made his way through each of the rooms. "Mom?" Still, she was not there. He knew that the Summer festival was coming up, and that the market was always buzzing with excitement around that time. Due to all the buying and selling of goods, the store his mother worked at was probably piled high with orders needing filled before the end of the week.
Smiling at the thought of getting his work done before his mother, Jack lit some lanterns, and built a small fire in the hearth. Holding out his hands, and blowing, his deep eyes watched as the small flames grew, and then engulfed the wood. It was not long before the logs were popping with the heat, and red coals were burning away underneath. With a short laugh of relief, the boy sat back on the floor and was soon entranced by the dancing of the flames.
Not knowing it, Jack's eyes slowly drifted close, and he was soon on another one of his adventures in dreamland.
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"Fire the cannons!" the sea raged around the wooden vessel, and the sails were raised to catch the wind. Like a wolf catching its prey, the ship glided across the ocean. Soon, the victim of the fierce pirates were right next to them. "Board the ship!" The captain stood at the wheel and looked down as his crew threw grappling hooks over. Even as the other ship came closer, the cannons still fired, creating massive holes in the British vessel.
Laughing, and holding their swords and pistols ready, the pirates jumped aboard their target, and began to slaughter the crew. Not one of the officers could get away; and as suddenly as they had come, the hunters of the sea jumped back to their own ship, and carried many treasures in their arms.
Watching the British ship sink, the pirates waved at the helpless souls that were still alive. It was but moments before the blue, red, and white flag was all that remained of the 'Tipton' and her crew.
When the excitement of the raid finally faded away, the sinful crew of the pirates piled their good into separate piles. The one with the biggest loot always got a reward of a good meal, and a glass of the Captain's ale.
Smiling at the promising piles before him, the Captain's boot made a hollow sound as they walked across the wood. Eyeing each golden heap as if it were a masterpiece, and each detail must be considered, the Captain quickly made his way down the line. All the piles were about the same, and he laughed at the thought of no one getting the reward.
It was then that he reached the line, and saw a mound of gold that rose to his chest. It was much larger than the others, and silver was mixed in here and there. Immediately the Captain's eyes grew wide, and he looked up and down the pile. Finally he found the person responsible for such a heap, and was amazed with the rest of the crew.
Sitting against the mast, next to his pile, was an adolescence boy. He had a thin mustache, and locks of black hair. Across his forehead was a red scarf decorated with trinkets such as feathers, beads, and coins. Staring down at his fingernails, and then looking casually up at the Captain, Jack simply said, "Do I win?"
"Jack…?" the Captain asked. He sounded confused. "Jack…? Jack Honey-"
The boy bolted upright, and his dream disappeared. He found himself in the living room, and the fire was burning bright next to him. Orange shadows danced upon the walls, and his mother's rocker slowly creaked behind. Rubbing his face, the boy looked around for the person who had awakened him. Jack was not the least bit surprised to see his mother sitting down in her chair.
Smiling at her son, Angela spoke to him, "I'm sorry I am late. You see…" her face flushed red, and the young woman put a hand to her face. All the while, a ball of yarn dropped from her lap. "Mr. Henry asked me if I would like to have dinner with him tomorrow."
At this, Jack's eyes grew wide with concern, and disappointment. Usually it was good news when a man asked his mother out, because that meant she could find a better man than his father. However, he did not want her to be away the next night.
Seeing her son's concern only made Angela smile. "Do not worry Jack, I reminded him that tomorrow was your birthday, and that I would see him the next night. Is that okay?"
"Of course," Jack stood to his feet, and felt like he was walking on raw meat stubs. His legs pained him a bit as they tried to gain back all feeling. One wobbling a little, the boy managed to kiss his mother on the cheek and head for his room.
Just then, Angela stood, her fingers clasped together and she held them to her mouth. In truth, she had come back after Jack had left for work. She forgot something and couldn't find it at first. Then she remembered that her son had used her bag for some reason, and headed into his room. It was then that she saw the crumbs, which lead her to search under the bed, and then to find the clothes of goods. "Jack? I was wondering-"
Before the young woman could finish what she was about to say, a loud blasting sound ran through the air. Then there was a scream, and the cracking of wood. Again, and again the sound came. At the first time, Angela ran to Jack and held onto his arm. "We must get out of here!"
"Why?"
"Pirates!" was the last thing he heard before his mother was pulling him by the arm out the door. The streets were filled with chaos, and everywhere houses were catching on fire from the cannons.
A large ship bobbed up and down just off the shore. The ship flew black sails, and the rest of it was hard to see in the night. Then a loud roar would fill the air, and a light flashed from the ship as another cannon was fired at the town.
Jack's heart began to beat faster and faster at the thought of the attack on his home. Never before had they had trouble from pirates, and never before had he felt so much fear. It overwhelmed him, and his feet would not move, despite the pulling on his arm from his mother.
Another fire bursted through the night, and another cannon was fired. the boy's deep eyes caught the shape of small boat heading towards the shore. After that, it was not long before many men were departing from the boats and running ashore. Every minute they grew closer, their feet tearing up the sand. Swords, hatchets, knives, and pistols were found in their hands. Slowly their faces entered the light of the fire, and that was when Jack was snapped back to reality. The horrid sight of the men finally became all too real to him.
Now, Jack was the one to pull his mother to safety. Before working at the docks, he had got an apprenticeship from the smith. After learning how to make swords, he taught himself how to use one. So, that was where he was heading, down the stone streets, glanicng at the stores beside him. Finally, after passing many burning buildings, and frantic people, Jack and his mother made it to the smith. It was just in the nick of time that the boy had rushed inside, told his mother to hide, and grabbed a sword.
When Jack came back out the door, a group of ten or more men rushed at him. The smell of rumand blood was heavy with the pirates. Sweat and dirt spread across their bodies, and many teeth were missing. Pulling out his sword, Jack cut into the attackers. Immediately two of the men fell dead. Nevertheless, three more pirates took their companions place.
The group was pressing in on the boy, and making it exceedingly hard for him to strike. Metal clanged, and Jack jumped onto barrels and crates to have an advantage of height. Soon, the pirates were fighting even more fiercely, angry to be showed up by a young boy. Meanwhile, Angela was crouching behind a bench inside and looking out the window. Her son jumped up into the view of the dirty window. The inside of the mill suddenly grew alive when the flames from the other houses jumped across to catch the smith on fire. Wooden beams cracked and fell as the fire quickly burned away the thatched roof.
A sudden heat spiked Jack's back, and his body immediately turned around. Fear found its way quickly into the boy's heart, and soon spread to make him immobile. The pirates took this advantage and grabbed the boy by the legs, quickly pulling them from under him. Jack fell onto the barrles, and his nose began to bleed once it cracked against the wooden edge. Not even able to scream, Jack was pulled into the crowd of men and quickly subdued by their sheer number. While five had to hold him, because of his lashing limbs, the other three ran into the smith. They had figured out Jack's fear was caused by someone being inside the smith.
"No!" Now the boy fought even harder. His muscles tightened, and he tried to loosen the grip the men had on him. Still, they gripped him far too hard. "No!" Jack's eyes grew large with fear when the three men finally came out of the burning building with a struggling young woman. Her brown hair was pulled, and sweat stretched across her brow. The fear the boy had was ten times worse in her. Angela was more worried about her son, that for her own being.
"Jack!" She shouted back and winced when one of the men pulled tighter on her hair. It broke Angela's heart to see her son struggle so hard to break free. Now his eyes were shut, and his Jack's jaw clenched shut. All of his energy was on breaking free. Sweat dripped down his brow and a foul taste came into his mouth. It was then that he realized the pain. One of the men had punched him in the stomach.
The man holding Angela by the hair began to laugh. His teeth were crooked, and a couple were missing. Stringy hair gripped onto a dirty and bloody scalp. A nose like a rat's jutted from his face, and his eyes sunk into his dirty head. The man's laugh was horse, he seemed to wheeze what air he could get in. "Well, what do we have 'ere? A mother 'n' son. Heh, Horbis, what was the policy on strong boys?"
A man out of Jack's sight spoke. He sounded scrawny and had a nasil sound to his voice. "All boys capable of serving are te be brought aboard, sir; Captain's orders." There was a loud sniff from the man, and he licked his lips. When Horbis had spoken, his breath wafted over the boy's nose. Jack scrunched up his face and licked the inside of his mouth over and over again to get rid of the terrible smell and taste.
"Then, Jack is it? Well, Jack is coming with us." The five men holding onto him tightened their grip, and rose him to his feet; the muddy ground below sucked on his back as he was placed on his feet. Once to his feet, Jack struggled again to escape their grip. Each of the five men dug what was left of their nails into Jack's skin. He could not help but cry out in pain.
Who seemed to be the leader of the small group laughed and then pulled out a knife. Jack looked at it with fearful eyes, and suddenly found himself pushed to his knees. Not knowing what was going to happen, he exchanged fearful looks with his mother. Angela took no time in beginning to beg for Jack to be spared. "Please, don't harm him. He will cooperate! Please, I beg you-" her pleads were silenced into a choking sound. A crimson liquid dripped from each side of her mouth. Her head hung low, and Jack watched in horror as her eyes faded and lost their life.
A torn up, black handle was turned, and rusted blade was pulled from the woman's gut. The leader laughed and smiled as the woman's body fell to the streets. Grief, and pain swirled up inside the boy. With it came a great and terrible anger. "No!" his voice rang through the streets. Jack's features turned dark and his face was turned into a mournful scowl. Tears streamed down is cheeks, washing away some of the dirt. "Mother! Wake up!" There was nothing he could do, and Jack felt so helpless. No more did he fight against the men's grip on him. Going limp, Jack's eyes blurred and he was dragged back to the shore.
The trip back to the boats was lost in Jack's grief. What events he remebered was hardly any. One more of the group's men was killed, people screamed and ran, more boys were torn away from their greiving parents, and even some of the girls were taken. The last thing Jack remebered befor the dawn was the bobbing of the boats, and the fire burning through the night.
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A/N: Sorry if I did not reply to your reviews, but my schedule is hetic. Well, at least I got this chapter done rather quickly. I do hope you enjoyed it, and look forward to the next one. Jack Sparrow Rules!
Your Author,
Marlo
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