Raised as a lord
It had been nearly two years since his mother's death and Jack was already nominated for -the wicked little thief of London- title.
The house owner kicked him out as he was not paying any rent. He put his mother's ring around his neck and made London his new home.
He knew every road, every corner, places you could sleep like a king, places you shouldn't, by any means, go by.
He thought about going on a ship many times but no ship would take him and he would not be a pirate.
Barrow's golden chain was the first but not the last thing he stole. He made stealing his life and it was going just fine. Not too much trouble for lunch or dinner, breakfast was a meal he wasn't fond of.
When the night came he would sleep wherever he pleased. Under the stars, by the sea, wherever his heart desired.
Few were the days he brought his mother to his thought. She wouldn't approve it, his life. But she was long gone now and he had to survive.
One day as he was walking down the market trying to spot something good to eat he came across with the strangest sight ever.
A gentleman, with weird clothes and a wig on his head, shinning shoes and saved face was walking down the market with a lady about thirty years of age.
Never, in his ten years of living in that city had he seen a lord, he was sure of that, walking around in that corner of London.
"He must have plenty of variables. Poor man looks so heavy, let's make him lighter." Jack thought and approached him carefully.
He waited until they stopped in front of a bench with flowers.
Carefully he sneaked his long fingers into the old man's pockets and felt some coins.
Good. He thought and got his hand out.
"What are you doing there lad?" a guard yelled grabbing his hand.
Where were they? How did I not see them? He thought.
The old man turned around to face him in disgust. Of, course he was dirty and bony by hunger, how was he supposed to look?
"He tried to rob you sir." The guard said.
"I did not! Look sir, these were falling of your pockets and I was returning them." Jack said.
"Is that so?" the old man said.
"Yes, sir. Now if you would be so kind as to tell him to leave me." Jack said.
"I know him sir, he's Jack Shepherd, he has robbed half people in London." The guard said.
"I am not." Jack exclaimed.
"Yes, you are." The guard said.
"Have you seen him?" Jack asked.
"No."
"Then how can you accuse me of being him since you don't know how he looks like and I say I am not him?" Jack said. The guard looked at him confused. He spotted the chain around his neck.
"I am no going to argue with you, come lad, to the cage." The guard said picking him up.
"Let me go! Let me go, you old dog!" Jack screamed, and kicked and punched till his chain fell on the grown.
"No, my ring!" he screamed from the guard's arms.
The wealthy man picked it up.
"Where did you get that?" he asked him making the guard put the boy down.
"It's mine, it belonged to my mother. She died two years ago." He said and his face fell.
"What was your mother's name, boy?" the man asked.
"Mary, sir, her name was Mary." He answered.
"And what is yours?"
"Jack… Jackson John Christopher Teague."
Jackie walked past the huge doors of the huge house. Everything there seemed to be of a great size.
The old man insisted on taking him to his home, even though the woman who was escorting him obviously disagreed.
As soon as they got to the house two maids took him and made him have a bath. They burnt his clothes and rubbed him until he thought his skin would come off.
"The dirt will not come off." One of them said.
"Oh, dear God, I don't know why our lord brought him home." The other said.
Jack looked at them viciously. He was present!
That was not dirt; it was his skin, white with a touch of brown.
He may be a thief and a punk but they were maids, for goodness sake! No royalties!
They dressed him in new, clean clothes, brushed his hair, he needed a haircut and led him to a huge room with a long table where about a dozen of people were waiting.
He spotted the old man sitting at the other side.
"Jackson my boy!" he said standing up, "Come, have a seat. We have anything your heart desires." He said and showed him a chair next to him.
He got suspicious. What the hell was going on? Who was this guy and why was he being so nice to him?
He sat down and looked around. No one seemed very happy to see him.
"Do eat, boy." The man said. Jack took a look at the table. Chickens, potatoes, hum, salads, fruits, truly anything his stomach desired.
He jumped off his seat and staffed his plate with anything he would find, staffing his mouth at the same time.
Suddenly he stopped. The people on the table, lads and lasses who looked like they had a digestion problem, were looking at him disgusted.
"Pay them no attention boy, you must be hungry, they eat my money every day!" the old man said laughing. So Jack continued.
When lunch was over he could barely stand. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten so much.
Wait… he had never eaten so much! It felt so good!
"Was it good?" the old man asked and he nodded.
"Come with me." He said and walked away. Jack, being curious he did as he was told to and followed the old man through a long hall.
The walls were covered with pictures of weird fellows. All of them royalties with ridiculous wigs and clothes.
But there was one picture that captured him. A portrait of a woman with black eyes and black hair. She looked like his mother but her skin was whiter, like porcelain, her eyes looked young, problem free but they had sadness in them.
He read the title underneath. Mary Ann Hornblower.
Jack stopped.
"That's my mum." He stated. The old man stopped and sighed.
"Yes, yes it is." He replied.
"You're her father." Jack finally understood. The old man nodded and walked to his office. Jack followed.
"Sir Willoby Jackson Hornblower." He said as he sat down. Jack sat in a chair in front of the office.
"Twelve years. Twelve years I thought I had lost her forever. She was taken by a pirate, probably your father, and never heard of her again. Ten years ago someone saw her on a ship, fighting side by side with a pirate Captain, her swollen stomach revealing her pregnancy. I was always thinking about her, about her child.
Always wondering if she would ever come back to London. Now I find out she was here all along."
"Five years." Jack interrupted him.
"Tell me boy, how did she die?" Old Hornblower asked.
"She got shot by a pirate." He said bringing the scene on his head. He raised his eyes preventing tears from falling. Then he saw it, a picture of dove like sparrow flying towards the sun.
"The dove." He said and got the ring out.
"How do you know it's a dove?" Willoby asked.
"What could it be?" Jack asked.
"A sparrow." He answered. Jack thought for a while.
"What does it have to do with Hornblowers?" he asked finally.
"Nothing, it is a painting a friend of mine draw once. When he gave it to me I asked him what it was. He told me, whatever I like. Most people say it's a dove. White, delicate, smooth. When Mary saw it she told me it was a sparrow."
"Why?" Jack asked.
"I never really understood until one day I saw a sparrow too. It has to do with who you are. Delicate, smooth, free to fly but always come back or rough, carefree, and free to fly wherever you want? What do you see, Jackson?" Willoby Hornblower asked.
Jack thought about it.
"A sparrow."