Author's Note: Hello, mates! I haven't received any reviews on Chapter 6, but that's all right, I'll just wait :) or, rather, maybe I'll just let you review future chapters. Don't need to review all of them, anyway :) Chapter 6 was just my way of getting the Wench back. And I had to throw in some "annoy Davy Jones" things in there – which I will put in my How to Annoy Pirates and Alienate Yourself fanfic, haha. Anyway, this is the chapter where things start moving. As in, you meet the recurring character I talked about…and a couple of other things that lead to what we today call Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. Anyway, I best let you read. Remember to review and ENJOY!!
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Chapter Seven
The Adventuress
Jack's new crew had successfully been established, with Bootstrap as First Mate and Raja as Second Mate. Having reached Tortuga, they had decided to drink to their hearts' content, having bombed down their first ship under Jack's command as a pirate for plunder. Jack, however, didn't seem to be enjoying himself quite as much as the others. As they walked through Tortuga to the tavern, the Faithful Bride, Jack tried to reason with Bootstrap.
"They were people Bootstrap," said Jack.
"Do you think they really care if you're a person? No, they care that you're a pirate."
"Bloody pirates!"
"Why insult yourself?"
"It's all Beckett's fault. That short little man will pay –"
"'Course he will."
Jack groaned. "They're still people! An' now they're probably with that ol'…fish-face, wot's 'is name."
"Yeah, yeah. Well, you're a pirate, so think Beckett's on each o' them flagships."
"I feel better already."
Jack finally reached the Faithful Bride. The first thing he saw was a large crowd gathered around a table. A table he was not sitting at. He moved closer to get a better look but wasn't granted the sight through the drunken crowd.
"You, sir," said Jack to a man who didn't seem to be quite as drunk as everyone else.
"Yeah?"
"What the blazes is goin' on over… there?"
"Drinkin' contest. Mercedes Shackleton against our usual winner, Jarvis Kirkby."
Jack knew Kirkby, but, "Who the hell is Mercedes Shackleton?"
Someone moved, and Jack got a closer look. It was a beautiful woman who seemed stern and knew what she was doing. She and Kirkby were on another glass. Kirkby lifted the glass and drank it, a hand held to his head. Mercedes drank it in one swift gulp. What happened next was that, mid-sip, Kirkby fell to the ground, asleep.
"I believe I win this match, sirs," said Mercedes proudly. "And I want my money."
"Damn wench," said a man. He turned and left.
"You, sir!" She called to him. "You bet on us! A 'hundred pounds, I wager, if I lost – for me! The money, please."
"No, because you're a silly, stupid girl. And you'll have to fight me for it."
"Very well," she said. She pulled out a pistol and shot him to the floor, without a flinch. Jack shuddered. She grabbed wads of paper out. "Seems he carries thousands on his person." Mercedes left.
Jack ran to follow her. "You! Mercedes!"
She turned with a cold stare. "What?"
Now that Jack had her attention, he didn't know what to say. So he lamely asked, "Why'd you shoot him?"
She grinned. "Planning on arresting me?"
"No," said Jack.
Mercedes rolled her eyes and kept walking in the same direction, tightening the belt on her pants. "Then, I'm sorry, but I have no interest in talking to you."
"Why?"
"You're not involved in a dealing of mine, are you? You don't seem to be… you look too new to harsh life."
"Erm – no," said Jack. He was starting to like his pretty new acquaintance less and less, but no matter, he had to win this small battle. "I don't care, either. I get what I want."
"Really?" she asked with mock interest. "Who are you, anyway?"
"I am the…infamous… Captain Jack Sparrow."
Mercedes thought for a couple of moments, narrowing her eyes. Then she popped back into her regular, moody self. "Nope, never heard of you."
She continued on to walk into a private parlour. Jack followed. "You don't look completely Brit, you know."
"Ah, you noticed," she said, counting her new bills. "Well, let's see. Me mum was an Italian lady, and me pops was a penniless British drunk. Not quite sure what the hell she saw in 'im. He accidentally shot her when I was two, stupid idiot did."
She leaned forward to grab a coin that rolled off and Jack saw a tattoo of a Ship and Anchor on the part of her chest that showed.
"Caught the tat, 'ave you?" She asked, displeased.
"What do you do?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well…I mean, you know, for a livin' and whatnot… 'cause I was thinking, tonight –"
Mercedes ripped out a dagger and pierced through Jack's sleeve and on the table – missing his arm by centimeters.
"That was brilliant!"
"What're you talking about? I missed," she said. "Not usual that I miss."
Jack gulped.
"I know what you're thinking. I don't do that sort of thing, really," she said coldly, continuing to count her bills. "Two thousand and one pounds, and seven shillings. The bloke didn't know when or where to take 'is money."
Jack looked at her expectantly.
"Fine. I'll tell you," she said. "I do odd jobs, Mister…Sparrow. And that includes the rather lowly profession you here witnessed just moments ago."
"You mean, drinking."
"Yessssss…." She said, continuing off. "Anyway, I am not one to be trifled with and am no one to sit with pathetic men such as yourself who have nothing more in mind than a good night."
"'Scuse me, but I am not pathetic –"
"Then explain to me what on earth you're doing in Tortuga port, here, running around and claiming to be infamous, when none of us have the slightest inkling as to who the hell you are."
"I have much more to me than you see, you know."
"Says them all. You're just another one of them pirates," said Mercedes quietly. "Oi, Eve! I want an entire jug!"
"Jug? That's a lot!"
"And I'm Mercedes Regina Shackleton, and I drink no less, Sister." She gave a dazzling smile.
"You already just had one whole amound in a competi – "
"Yes, and that amount was quite mild," she said. Evelyn shrugged and handed her a large jug filled with rum.
"You plannin' on sharing that?" asked Jack greedily. Mercedes merely chugged it down and sighed.
"Does it look like I'm one to do that?" Mercedes pulled her shiv off of Jack's sleeve. "Sorry, mate. I just – I'm a bit wary now's again."
"Ain't we all?" Mercedes smiled – lightly. "You planning on finishing that tale o' yours?" asked Jack. "Seriously, what do you do?"
Mercedes looked around. "You tell this to one person, and I swear I will kill you."
Jack shrugged. He got this threat on a daily basis as of now.
"Right," said Mercedes. "Like I said, I do odd jobs. I don't often get a lot of money for them. But I do get a lot of money for one of my jobs." Upon seeing Jack's eyes, she continued, "And don't ask me about a night again, you hear?"
"Yeah, yeah," said Jack, bored of her beating around the bush.
"This job I speak of… I'm an… I'm an assasin."
"Figures," Jack said, snorting. He was actually a little shocke that someone as beautiful as this young woman would commit to killing people for money. There are better jobs, he thought. Like warming a bed.
"I know you think I should be doing something else," she said. "I've met your type. Pathetic, egotistical."
"Egotistical? You're the egotistical one here, if I say so."
"Hah!" Mercedes let out. "Me, egotistical? What I say is true, and I'll prove you to be one."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Then prove it."
"All right. I bet on this two thousand pounds 'ere, that I can beat you in a fencing duel within five minutes with my right hand tied behind my back. And my right arm is my strong arm."
"You think that's a bet? I've trained under them Spanish and Italian fencing wizards. If you think you can beat me in five minutes, I can beat you in five seconds," Jack said.
"That's egotistical for you," she said. She pulled out a little trunk and pulled out random items from it. "Need more room for me money," she explained. Outside of the trunk now lay the carving of a lion on a flat, wooden coin, a couple of grenades, and a long white stick-looking thing.
"Wha's that?" Jack asked. "An' Eve, if you'd be so kind, a pint for me." Eve handed him one, batting her eyelashes. Mercedes rolled her eyes.
"It's a reindeer's shin bone," said Mercedes. "I think I got it in the Arctic."
"You'd go up there?"
"So long as I'm paid for it. Worthless piece of junk, really. I killed some Voodoo priest and thought it was something important. It's just a worthless piece of junk."
"You killed a voodoo priest?" asked Jack. "You know who Tia Dalma is?"
"That ugly woman?"
"She ain't ugly," said Jack. "And yes, that's who I'm talking about. And if you tried to kill her the wrath of them 'eathen gods'd be on you!"
"Yeah, yeah. And, make up your mind, erm, Captain."
"See these two beads here?" Jack pointed at a red one and a cream-coloured one. "I got these from her to get summat."
"Ah. Supernatural? Or otherwise normal?"
"Supernatural, I'd say… Stone-eyed Sam."
"Mm," said Mercedes.
"I'll take the reindeer thingy."
"Yeah, yeah," she said, throwing it at him. He tied it above his bandana. "Why do you do that?"
"What?"
"It's gotta be heavy, don't it?"
"Not your problem, is it, Mercedes?"
She raised her eyebrows, annoyed. "Who are you?" she asked.
"Well, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, son of Meenakshi and Captain Johnathon Edward Teague, Pirate Lord of Madagascar."
Mercedes let go of her shiv, which landed on the table, her jaw dropped. "You're Teague's son? And 'ere I was thinkin' you ter be some sorta cheap knockoff."
"You don't even know me," Jack muttered, more or less to himself.
"Yeah, well, neither do no one," said Mercedes. "I hear yer father is after you. Wants to give you something, I'll warrant."
"Probably a beatin'."
"Yeah, well," said Mercedes. "You keep that shin bone, mate. I have a feeling we'll meet in the future, you in your same egotistical, pathetic position. You won't trust me, and good for you, because you shouldn't."
It was now Jack's turn to roll his eyes, which he did with relish. "You'll see, mate, it'll be you who's pathetic, you little –"
"Ah, ah, ah," said Mercedes, holding her shiv to his neck. "No insults, no blood. Fair and square."
She turned and left into the night. Jack shook his head. "BOOTSTRAP!" Bootstrap wasn't in the tavern. Jack almost left the tavern when he heard, in another private parlour…something more interesting than anything he had heard that night. He hid behind a rather large, towering plant to listen.
"Yes, that's righ', the old chest, what wiv' eight hundred an' eighty 'free pieces o' gold, or summat," he heard. It was a gruff voice, the voice of someone who sounded incredibly familiar yet strangely unkown.
"Eight eighty three? Naw, can' be. Them aztecs warn't rich 'nuff, were they?"
"You're an idiot, Guffin," said the first, gruffy gold. "I know where the gold lies…and all of the other treasure what belonged ter Cortez himself."
The infamous cursed gold, innit? Jack thought. Impossible! He wanted it all for himself – the gold would be his – and he would have what he wanted most: immortality.
"Ain' there a curse?" Yes, you idiot, Jack thought, although he wasn't entirely sure about the exact tenants of said curse.
"Apparently, if ye steal one bit of the gold, you turn into them undeaddies we call the livin' dead. An' ye can' tell by physical appearance 'less yer in the moonlight," said the gruff voice. "An' on'y I knows where it is."
"No you don't, you only know the name of the island, mate," said another voice.
"Big problem. I'll just hop a ship fer it."
"Name me the island, mate, I wants ter hear it."
"It's called…Isla De Muerta…"
…Island of the Dead, Jack thought. Not quite literally, o' course, but around it…
There was only one way to get the treasure, and Jack knew it full well. The Isla De Muerta was a legendary island that was not charted on the maps, and with good reason, now that he learned.
It was time to go upriver.