3. Jack

"What're ye doin' aboard my ship?"

Ah, apparently he liked Santiago's present given that he had only been aboard this ship for minutes and yet he already claimed her his with a possessive ring to it. A dark timbre, a velvet slur; his voice sounded friendly but nevertheless cautious. It was a voice that could lure you, lull you, cheat you.

I opened my eyes and had to bite my lip not to laugh. He looked… I don't know how to describe it but I certainly had expected him to look different due to Santiago's portrayal. More like a ruthless rogue and less than the rag doll he actually was. His clothes were a conglomeration of various rags that had only one thing in common- they didn't go together at all. His boots were of a light brown and made of suede but they were so old and worn that a few scraps of cloth was all that held them together; the colour of his breeches was indefinable. He wore an unbuttoned, torn shirt that probably had been red once, showing too much of his tanned chest. His vest was the sleeveless version of a Spanish marine officer's coat yet still highly decorated. The sash around his hip was patterned with flowers, it was the kind of fabric to make fancy clothes for noble ladies so it was a stark contrast to the pistol and cutlass he had stuffed in it. His sword hung at a belt in a plain sheath; he had one hand on its hilt while the other was fumbling with his beard as if not knowing what to do with me.

I kept staring at him since there still was a lot to stare at. His hair for example. It was long and dark, almost black. A part of it was tied together with a ribbon at the nape of his neck, another on the left side of his head, swinging to and fro with every movement, while the rest of it was braided, decorated with shells and beads, leather strings wound round some strands. To top it all off he had wrapped a blue bandana around his head. I took all these little details in with utter fascination, when I suddenly noticed he was asking me the same question in about three different languages. What was I doing aboard his ship? Well, since I couldn't tell him the truth I repeated what Santiago had told me to answer but when I gazed into his face I immediately regretted having to lie to him.

He was handsome, very handsome. A heartbreaker if I'd ever seen one, the kind of guy that always attracts the glances of every woman around. My thoughts strayed off to Rowan, knowing she wouldn't have given me a second glance if I had stood next to him. His features were delicately shaped, he had a straight nose, high cheekbones and a firm, determined jaw. He, however, preferred to hide his attractiveness behind moustache, goatee and manly stubble, as well as he disguised his eyes with too much khol. The reason was not so hard to figure out- apparently he needed all of this masquerade so as not to appear as young as he actually was. I was astounded. Given Santiago's description I had expected to meet an old cutthroat and definitely not someone much younger than me. Also, I hadn't expected to like this weird guy but the moment our eyes locked I took an immediate liking to him.

Eyes don't lie, they say. His were brown, dark brown and mysterious. Eyes that already had seen much more than a lad of his age should have and yet they were humorous with a sparkle of mischief while at the same time very alert as he observed me with curiosity. Then his mouth twitched and he shot me an open smile, showing perfect white teeth except for a single gold one, which made his smile glitter.

"What's yer name?"

"William Turner," I hesitated before adding, " friends call me Bill."

With one finger at his chin he thoughtfully cocked his head and scrutinized me for a moment. I wonder what he saw in me but whatever it was, he offered me his hand to help me up.

His grip was firm; he had strong, calloused hands. The hands of a sailor who was used to hard work, to wielding a sword. Yet his fingers were fine-boned and long, almost elegant if not for the dirt under his fingernails. Fingers of a pickpocket.

"And ye are?"

"Jack." He paused for a second, then puffed himself up in front of me in all his funny, eccentric glory. He was about a head shorter than me, of slender statue but I believed the cords of muscles flowing under his tanned skin were solid. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. Welcome aboard the Black Pearl, Bill."

"Black Pearl?"

"Aye, me ship. The one ye're aboard if ye know what I mean."

"I'm not that stupid. I simply didn't know that that's her name."

"'Course not. I just gave her that name when I first saw her."

"Ah." I nodded, feeling like a fool.

"Ye know, Bill, black pearls are rare and hard to find, and ye don't find a beauty like her every day. She almost screamed to be mine... um, actually it was more like singing she did."

"Singing?" He was most definitely mad, talking about singing ships. But then again there was something odd about this ship, she wasn't only keel, hull, decks, masts and sails; there was an inaudible voice, a humming. I glanced at Jack, doubting my own sanity. Perhaps it was the Caribbean sun. "Ye're right," I had to admit.

"Ye hear it too?"

I did, but I also heard noises on deck, heavy footsteps, demanding voices. Apparently not everyone agreed with Jack Sparrow that the Black Pearl was his; there was quarrel in the air. The young pirate stiffened and cursed, then he scurried towards the deck with me following in his wake.

There were several pirates aboard the ship now, actually two groups of pirates standing opposite of each other and having a heated argument. Their spokesman was a hulking great brute of a man who looked every inch the pirates of my imagination. His face was scared, the glance of his eyes mean as he faced Jack.

"What gives ye the idea we'd let ye 'ave this ship, Sparrow? Ye won't get it an' we won't chose ye to be our new capt'n. Wake up, li'le boy. Ye're still wet behind the ears and much too full of yerself." He was a giant compared to my strange new friend, armed to the teeth, and a blow of his fists could probably kill a man. Nevertheless Jack stared at him with rebellious defiance, eager to pick a fight. Would anyone help him?

The larger group of pirates were followers of the brute while the smaller group seemed to favour Sparrow. None of them moved or interfered though, they all watched the scene with the same strange fascination as I did.

"Alright, Hulky Hobbs. What d'ye say to that- we forget about me becoming captain of the Mermaid, savvy? Ye can have her and I take this one instead, so we're both captains of our own ships. Do we have an accord?"

"Ye're wanna fob me off with the smaller ship and expect me to let ye get away with it? Ye're daft, lad. I'm the elder 'n more experienced of us therefore this ship is mine. Ye go back to the Mermaid and scrub the deck. Did I make meself clear?"

"Oh, unmistakably clear." Jack scratched his stubbly chin as if thinking hard about the other pirate's words, then beamed cheerfully. "I do wonder though why my name is written on the hull if she's supposed to be yers?"

The giant pirate shot him a blank glance, apparently not getting what Jack Sparrow was up to. Well, actually none of us who watched that scene was.

"Yer name? On the hull?"

Jack shrugged and examined his fingernails as if the dirt underneath them was far more interesting than this conversation. Did he know that Hulky Hobbs would actually go to take a look over the rail? However, the brute did.

"Can't see anythin'."

Jack hurried to his side, wildly gesticulating at a point probably only he could see because we didn't see anything either except for the original nameplate of the ship that was now called the Black Pearl. Hulky Hobbs bent further over the rail as the younger pirate teased him. "What d'ye see?"

"Nothin'."

"Right, that's exactly what ye'll get." With that Jack gave him a well-placed kick in the butt that sent Hulky Hobbs straight over the rail and down into the sea.

I gasped amazed. Mad or not, he definitely had a knack for manipulating the opportune moment to get the upper hand over a complicated situation, and he didn't cease to surprise me. When he noticed that Hulky Hobbs couldn't swim he tossed him a rope before whirling around in order to face the other pirates. He looked a bit cornered, desperate, trying to figure out who was on his side or not. For a moment it seemed that a fight amongst the pirates was likely to break lose, swords were drawn, and the Jack supporters were still outnumbered.

In an attack of mental derangement I stepped at his side, reassuringly. At the same time I cursed myself for being so incredibly foolish- I should have learned not to interfere in the affairs of strangers because that only landed me in a mess. I could be sitting in my house in London now, drinking tea with Claire if I hadn't chosen to play the hero for an unknown damsel in distress. And though I was still damned sure I could have dealt with the three gents threatening her then, it was a completely different situation now. Now I faced pirates, gruesome, unscrupulous, blood-thirsty pirates who were armed to the teeth while I wasn't armed at all. Besides, I wasn't even properly trained in using a weapon, I couldn't sword fight. Why did I put myself in danger for a funny lad I had just met a few moments ago? And not to forget, Sparrow was a pirate too. Probably not as blood-thirsty as the rest of them but a pirate nevertheless.

"Who's 'im?" My thoughts were interrupted when one of the pirates- a grey-haired, weathered guy with a peg-leg- pointed at me as if he had just taken notice of me for the first time. Well, in fact I had tried to be unobtrusive and stay in the background before whatever had driven me to take Jack's side. Perhaps his madness was already rubbing off on me and I was slowly losing my mind. What else could you expect aboard a singing ship…

"That's me friend Bill." Jack wrapped a casual arm around my shoulder. "Ye know he was a gift from the mermaids who also gave me this li'le ship."

Oh great, now that would definitely help to improve the situation. Strangely, it did. Most of the pirates backed away, throwing me frightened glances and some even crossed themselves.

"Ah, ye can always trust a superstitious sailor to be superstitious when mermaids are involved, and pirates are no exception from that rule. Even if they call their ship the Mermaid, they still believe mermaids are frightful bad luck," he whispered conspiratorially but then he let go of me because he suddenly realized it wasn't good to frighten everyone off; after all, he couldn't sail a ship of this size all on his onesies. So he scampered to convince and persuade at least a few of his fellow pirates to stay.

Listening to Jack was intriguing. He was brilliant with words and he knew what people wanted to hear in order to wind them round his little finger and agree with him. Although his logic seemed to be odd- like he compared the one sound leg of Peg-leg Pat with a mermaid's fish tails to assure him no mermaid would ever harm him- it was nevertheless matchless and, surprisingly, it worked. He actually managed to find himself a crew that was accepting him as captain of the Black Pearl.

Very cocksure of himself Jack then stalked up the stairs to the quarterdeck with feline grace, trailing along the dark wood of the banisters, admiring the beautifully carved figures at the stern and grinning when one of them happened to resemble a mermaid, before taking over the helm. The way he touched the wheel was almost sensual, like caressing the body of a lover, a dreamy look on his face. But when he noticed that he was being watched by his crew and me he immediately straightened himself, trying to look every inch the pirate captain he was now. And yet there was something amiss, he still wasn't completely satisfied.

"Peg! Peg, where's me hat?"

Peg-leg Pat limped up to him, each step followed by a loud thud of his wooden leg, and handed him a black tricorn hat. Now Captain Jack Sparrow was ready to bark orders.

"Scurry ye scabrous dog! I want movement! Brace the sails!"

Though I tried to make myself useful I merely seemed to be in everybody's way since I didn't really know what to do. Aboard the Glorious I had been given precise orders- actually I had been dragging at the same bloody ropes every bloody day without knowing why. No one had cared to explain. You blindly following orders without thinking about it, you obeyed or were punished, it was as simple as that. Feeling superfluous I looked hectically around.

"Seems the mermaids 'ave forgotten to give sea legs to yer new friend," I heard Peg-leg Pat sneer, "looks like he's 'bout to stumble over his own bootstraps ev'ry minute. What a bloody lousy sailor."

I felt embarrassed; I didn't want to appear a total failure, but of course he was right. I was a lousy sailor because I held no love for the sea. I didn't want to be at sea. I wanted to be home in London, with Claire and Will, and not miles away on the other side of the world where the bloody sun was roasting me.

There was a moment of reverent silence when the wind filled the canvas. I looked up, like the others, and had to admit that even I was impressed to see the raven black sails fully blown against the blue Caribbean sky. An exciting shiver seemed to run through the planks as the Pearl gained speed and- damned, was she fast. She almost flew across the waves, sending up fountains of glittering spray at her bow. I was mesmerized.

I glanced at Jack who stood at the helm, proud like a peacock, a wild, broad grin on his face; the wind played with the beads in his hair and made them jingle. He was excited, overjoyed and yet he looked as if he'd never done anything else in his life; he really seemed to belong there. Probably he would have stayed there for days, fixed to the wheel and not willing to let go of his new toy, wanting to test her out, sailing complicated manoeuvres, but then he proved to be a prudent captain. He knew that we were too small in number to handle a ship of her size properly so he settled for letting her run for a while, all canvas set and fully braced, before he gave orders to drop anchor in a calm, moonlit bay thus giving the crew a chance to take a rest.

He came up to me, slightly swaying, hands fluttering eccentrically "Ye gave me a good ship, Bill. Now would ye please be so kind to show me my cabin?"

"Aye Capt'n." I silently cursed Santiago for just dropping me in the brig without showing me the ship because I had no idea where his cabin was. On the other hand that made the story Santiago had instructed me to tell even more believable. Don't leave out the Navy, just change the ending of your story, he had insisted, you weren't rescued by pirates but managed to slip off the Glorious when in port and hid aboard a merchant vessel on her maiden voyage. They discovered the stowaway and locked you in the brig before pirates attacked the ship leaving you the sole survivor…

I opened a door that led from the main deck to a spacious cabin below the quarterdeck. It was nicely furnished in the same dark wood the Pearl was made of, with a large round table in the middle, some comfortable chairs and a bed. No bunk- a real bed. My eyes grew wide.

"Wow, " Jack breathed impressed before continuing in a more casual, slurred way, "I guess it's … appropriable for a pirate captain. Ain't it?"

"Aye Capt'n." I wondered why he didn't seem to notice what I noticed. The cabin looked… well, actually the whole ship looked too new and unused for a vessel supposed to be on her maiden voyage since there was no sign of her former crew, no personal belongings, nothing. Of course there had been no former crew but if Santiago wanted my story to be believable he should have taken better care of such small details. Even the nautical things- instruments- at the table looked brand new.

Jack didn't notice because he had apparently forgotten about everything including myself when he had launched himself at the bed, arms spread out wide, almost giggling with pleasure. I could understand him. The silken sheets that covered it were probably worth more than any casual docker earned in a year and he certainly didn't look like an upper-class lad who was used to it.

"Is there anything else ye need, Capt'n?"

"Rum," he said dreamily, then he became aware of my presence and sat up with a start.

Meanwhile I was rummaging through cupboards that were hidden behind carved wood in order to get him a drink, hoping at least not to appear a total loser with that simply task. Finally I found a cabinet with various bottles. I placed one on the table, together with a glass.

He gave me an odd gaze and the velvet slur of his voice was gone. "Is there anything wrong between us?"

"Pardon me, Capt'n?"

He mockingly imitated my words but somehow he appeared disappointed, even offended and I still didn't know what I had done wrong. I was dismissed with a casual wave of his fingers. I hadn't made it to the door yet when he suddenly asked, quietly, "Why did ye take me side, Bill?"

"I…" I turned around, not much wiser though. "I don't know."

"Ah."

We eyed each other in silence for a moment. I couldn't possibly say that I liked him or that he had looked so young and lost just now on deck- damned, he was a pirate, a pirate captain to be more precisely, he wouldn't want to hear such things.

"It seemed right." I offered.

"And it doesn't seem right to drink a glass of rum with me?"

Suddenly it dawned upon me what he was about, or at least almost. But why? Was he just trying to be friendly or did he believe in his own yarn I was a personal gift from the mermaids? Or did he have any ambiguous motives? I was cautious and somewhat angry.

"Well, I didn't lie to ye when I told ye I was being pressed to join the bloody Navy," I snapped before venting all my frustration, "and bloody Navy Captains don't drink rum with the scum that's sailing their bloody ships, they don't even look at ye, they don't know yer name except they can think up yet another reason why ye have to be punished again and of course they don't dirty their fine fingers with ye 'cause their officers do that. Damned, I never wanted to leave my family, I never wanted to go to sea and I never wanted having to become a pirate just to survive so stop pouting that it never came to me mind ye wanted me to join ye for a drink. I can't read yer bloody thoughts."

He stared at me and my heart sank. Great, now I really had gone too far. It had definitely not been wise to tell a pirate captain to stop pouting, no matter how young said pirate captain was. Jack Sparrow however merely raised an amused eyebrow at me, poured a glass of rum and took a sip before handing it to me.

"Drink." His voice sounded soft but with authority as he directed me to a chair and made me sit down, patting my shoulder. "It's not that bad, ain't it?"

Blast, it seemed he always got what he wanted. Actually I didn't mind given that his company was far less frightening than the other pirates although I made a point not to underestimate him. He was unpredictable and he proved that with a swift movement, pulling down my shirt. I gasped and backed away. What was he up to now?

"Don't fret, I'm not gonna harm ye. And I swear I'm gonna be a better captain than the bastard who did that to ye. No flogging aboard the Pearl, never."

The scars- he had seen the scars the cat had left on my back and I was a daft idiot once again for thinking ill of him. His reaction was to pour me another drink, as if rum was his wonder cure-all. Well, getting drunk was a tempting idea and rum was as good as any other drink to drown my sorrows.

I can't remember what we talked about that night- well, actually it had been me doing most of the talking, babbling about Claire and my dear little Will- but I do still remember being surprised that he was actually an attentive listener; I hadn't expected that. But then again Captain Jack Sparrow would never cease to surprise me.

The next day I learned that we were heading for Tortuga- the most notorious pirate haven in the Caribbean, that much I already knew - where Captain Sparrow wanted to recruit some more crewmembers.

My first impression of said place was not very pleasant; the air was too hot, too humid, and stank like hell. Drunks were lying in the gutter, embracing their own stench, whores were practising their job wherever they found a patron, and in between that numerous bawls took place as well as there were actually people selling goods at a market. Well, I had seen riots and debauchery in London so I didn't give a damn about that but I did stop to stare in utter fascination at a stall that sold strange, exotic looking fruits.

"Blast! Ne'er seen a pineapple?" Captain Sparrow cursed as he bumped into me

I shook my head. You certainly don't get pineapples in London unless you're very rich, which I wasn't. I wouldn't be here if I was one of the rich folks. But well, it wasn't that bad to be here either and perhaps pineapples tasted sweeter when stolen from a market stall and eaten on a roof overlooking Tortuga harbour, of course after causing a riot at that market and being chased by annoyed citizens as well as some soldiers. That's what Jack called fun. And I sat next to him, dripping with sticky sweet pineapple juice, and thought that life was wonderful.

Later that day he took me to a tavern called the Faithful Bride. The definitely not faithful ladies working there were excited to see him and swarmed around him like moths attracted to a light. He loved that; he loved being the centre of attention. The ladies however didn't like him kissing all of them and no, it weren't chaste kisses he gave them. They started bitching at each other before they came to the conclusion that Jack was the one to blame for their trouble so one by one they slapped him and vanished to look for more reliable patrons. In the end only a pretty dark haired stayed, by far the best choice. She sat down on his lap with a triumphant smile as if she had just won a prize.

"That's Dolores," he informed me before he greedily stuck his tongue down her throat.

Alright this was a pirate tavern in a pirate town nevertheless I still believed that some things belonged to the privacy of a bedroom or wherever, at least they should not been made a public event. The blood rushed to my cheeks when I saw him fumbling with her breasts, encouraged by her almost orgasmic moaning. That was too much. I would not watch this any longer.

"I'll go back to the Pearl."

He shot me an odd look as if he had completely forgotten about me- which was very likely- then he nearly dropped the lass in order to stop me from leaving.

"I'm sorry. I forgot the lousy wages the Navy's paying if they pay at all so be me guest- chose any wench ye like and tell her"

I rolled my eyes and cut him off. "Jack, I'm a married man!"

"Aye, ye mentioned that. So what? Yer wife's not 'ere."

"I promised to be a faithful, loving husband." Well, I was quite sure I would misinterpret the faithful part one day and seek the service of a whore but not in public and most definitely not with Jack paying for it. I had at least that much pride left. To change the topic I reminded him why we had came to Tortuga in the first place. "Thanks for yer offer but we're here 'cause ye need a crew, so if ye can't control yer needs ye could at least take Dolores to the upstairs' rooms for a few minutes."

"A few minutes?" He raised a brow at me, sounding offended. "I thought as a married man ye should know that it takes more than just a few minutes to"

I didn't want to hear him out. That was not a topic I wanted to discuss with him or anyone else. "I see ye in the morrow then."

There were many men who seemed to be keen on sailing with Captain Jack Sparrow but before they could sign on they had to pass old Peg-leg Pat, who wasn't accepting just anyone.

"Why d'ye turn them down?" I asked with mild curiosity, tying to see a pattern in his doings. .

The old salt gave me shrewd glance. "'Cause most o them aren't more than bloody bastards lookin' for a chance to get a good ship, not scruplin' to start a mutiny. I'm not too fond of Sparrow but I definitely do detest mutineers." He shrugged. "Actually I wouldn't care about Sparrow at all if not for Sam, Captain Samuel Davies that is, me recently deceased friend. Dunno what he saw in this young trouble maker and ne'er-do-right but he had a soft spot for 'im. Took 'im under his wings, taught 'im ev'rything 'bout sailin' an' well, I must admit he was learnin' fast. Clever lad he is, that Sparrow. Came aboard the Mermaid knowin' nothin' at all but worked his way up faster than a bloody shootin' star. He's one of these rare talents who knows the sea, understands her, foresees a storm long before anyone else; the sea's in his blood. Damned good sailor, great navigator and cartographer- but much too full o himself. And me thinks he's much too young to captain his own ship."

"How old is he anyway?"

"Hm- he wasn't older than thirteen when he first joined the crew, stayed with us for a year and then signed on with Morgan, raiding Panama."

"Henry Morgan?" I gasped, utterly shocked. I had heard of the raid of Panama- you couldn't have missed talk about it when living in London. The King hadn't been very pleased with Morgan's deeds since he had just signed peace with Spain so Morgan had been conducted to London. But instead of rotting in the Tower he had enjoyed life in the best circles of high-society and was knighted in '74. It's a weird world we're living in where people get rewarded for committing incredible cruelties and I didn't want to imagine what witnessing that had done to Jack; no boy of his age should have participated in this slaughter. I was surprised though that he was only five years younger than me and yet he had gone through so much more in his life

"When Sparrow came back to us one day he was different," Peg-leg Pat continued indifferently, "not completely changed but, um…darker, if ye know what I mean. Too consumed with his oddities to care about others."

I felt the urgent desire to throttle him. Jack was not an uncaring man, I knew that. But if no one cared about him why should he care about others? I remembered sharing stolen pineapples on a roof and decided that he could count on me now.