Disclaimer – Disney owns the entire franchise of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Swordplay

Captain Jack Sparrow watched in amusement as their newest recruit received an impromptu sword fighting lesson from the gunner. Pintel wasn't that handy with a cutlass either. So both combatants were locked in a clumsy dance across the deck. More often than not, the pair tripped over ropes and loose shot. Barbossa chuckled when Ragetti fumbled and dropped his sword, straight onto his own foot. The young pirate howled in agony and hopped about the deck clutching his injured foot.

"Hey, Pintel, tell yer mate the pointy-end goes in yer gut," the watching chief mate roared with laughter.

"Keep at it, Rags. Ye'll improve with practice," Jack called out some encouragement. Both captain and chief mate winced when Ragetti picked up his discarded sword and clumsily poked his own eye out. Looks like Ragetti would need a lot more practice.

It was a sunny day in Tortuga as the Misty Lady bobbed at anchor. Young Jack Sparrow was left to his games as the crew busied themselves with repairs and provisioning their vessel.

"There comes a time in a lad's life when he must be taught the way of the sword… It is now, Capt'n," Granny Grace said solemnly as she held out a sword to Captain Teague. It was a beautifully crafted blade, taken from a captured Spanish admiral of short stature, so it should not be too long or heavy for a young boy like Jack. The pirate glanced over to where his son was fighting an imaginary foe with a stick. With a sigh, the man took the sword from the sea cook and called for his son. Once his mother-in-law set her mind to something, he would get no peace, and probably a broken nose, if he failed to cater to her whim.

"Da, da, are ye goin' to teach me to use a real sword?" Jack Sparrow chirped as he ran over to his old da. He saw the gleaming hilt and the shiny black scabbard. He knew what was going to happen was going to be a big event for any lad.

"Aye, Jackie boy…" Teague handed Jack his first sword.

"Wow! Thanks, da!" the boy exclaimed. Jack tugged the sword out of its scabbard and overbalanced, landing with a heavy crash on his rump. "OW!"

Undeterred by this momentary setback, Jack Sparrow was back on his feet. "On guard…" Jack did a mock thrust and was swiftly parried by a laughing Teague with the stick Jack had been playing with earlier. Young Jack had often observed close-quarters combat from the safety of the rigging, captain's cabin or from the behind the bulwarks when Teague's crew boarded another ship or on the rare occasion they were boarded by hostile parties. Jack Sparrow was familiar with the standard moves.

"What do ye know 'bout swords, Jackie?" their chief mate called out from beside the main mast.

"Pointy bit goes into the other guy," Jack yelled over his shoulder and swung playfully at the mainmast in a mock attack. Honest Tom dodged and faked a grievous injury.

"Ye killed me, Jack…" the chief mate flopped down clutching his chest. He earned himself a kick in the ribs from an annoyed Granny Grace.

"Quit foolin' and git those potatoes o'er 'ere!" She kicked him in the rear to emphasize her impatience. The mate scrambled for the sacks. Jack grinned and raised his sword.

"Don't clench the hilt too tight or ye'll git de cramps," Teague warned. "Loose in de wrist, Jackie-boy." His heart swelled with a father's pride as his young son spun and swung his blade with ease, getting used to the weight he held.

Teague took his old sword out and called Jack to attention. Jack paused. "Let's have ourselves a duel," Teague laughed. Jack nodded earnestly. The sword Teague held was as blunt as sheep's teeth for most part. He did not wish to harm one hair on his son's head since Jackie was new to handling a sword. Soon both father and son were crossing blades as they pranced about the deck, dancing between the crewmates loading and hauling ropes, crates and other provisions. His son did not disappoint. Jack was agile on his feet and gave his old da a good fight.

"Watch fer that rope, Jackie!" Teague snapped as Jack almost tripped over a coil of rope. "Keep yer surroundings in sight," the father advised.

"Aye, aye, da!" Jack did a backflip over a crate to escape a thrust. Teague chuckled.

So caught up in their fencing was he that Teague did not notice a small nick in his blade. With every clash, with every parry… it stealthily deepened, until the inevitable happened.

With a resounding clash, the sword snapped. The severed sword point spun into the air and found its mark.

"ARGH!" Granny Grace's scream of pain shook the rigging of the Misty Lady like a typhoon. Seagulls within a five mile radius of the ship took fright and fled. The captain and Jack Sparrow blanched when they saw where the wayward point had ended up – sticking out of the ample rump of their gnarled sea cook. Granny Grace had been bent over trying to lift a heavy barrel of salt ham.

"Ah'll tear ye limb from limb, ye scurvy dog! With me bare hands!" an enraged Granny Grace cursed heartily as she yanked the offending point out of her rump and threw it within a few inches of Captain Teague's head. Honest Tom the first mate put up a brave show trying to restrain the sea cook but she swatted him aside as if he were nothing but an insect. Her beady eyes oozed pure murder. She fixed them on both father and son.

"RUN!" Without much ado, Teague shoved his son in the direction of the gangplank. With a few bounds, Jack was off the ship and sprinting across the docks. His da followed. The duo fled for their very lives as Granny Grace raged behind them like an angry bull. It was a good fifteen minutes before both father and son found refuge in an alley and Granny Grace gave up the chase.

"Ye forgot one thing, da…" Jack gasped for breath.

"What, Jackie boy?" Teague wheezed and mopped sweat off his brow.

"Keep the pointy end outta Granny Grace's butt," Jack jested. Teague slapped his son on the shoulder with a laugh. Their lucky escape called for a bottle of rum.

They would spend the rest of the day loitering in the tap room of the Faithful Bride over a bottle of rum before Honest Tom limped in to announce that Granny Grace has calmed down and forgiven them, would they please get their rumps back on board so they could start pillaging merchant ships?

The crew had just fought off an attempted boarding by some pirates Jack had pissed off at the last port. Blood still stained the deck but most of it was not from their men. Jack had fought like a wildcat, often taking on two or three opponents at once. The best fighters on board, in Bootstrap Bill's humble opinion, were the first mate Barbossa and their captain Jack Sparrow. Barbossa was taught by a master fencer as a lad, so he claimed during a drinking session. No one knew who taught their captain his sword-fighting.

"That was some neat sword-work. Who taught ye to use a sword, Captain?" Bootstrap Bill asked. He handed his captain a bottle of rum.

"Me old da," Jack grinned and silently toasted his da. Thanks, da.

Author's Notes:

A brief insight into Jack's education in the arts of sword fighting.