Yay! Finally, a long(er) chapter, and, drumroll, please... our favorite pirate, Captain Jack Sparrow!!! (Well, OK, our favorite pirate to watch... I think Will must be my favorite to just look at, although if we count Norrie as a pirate in the second movie, might need to reconsider that statement... eh, well, he needs to shave, in my opinion, even if he does look loads better sans perruque.) This is more or less the scene after Elizabeth falls off the parapet and is rescued by Jack, as told from James's point of view... next chapter, I will have the pleasure of writing my own Jack dialogue (a thought that both excites and terrifies me... so please be kind if I don't do it quite right!)

I don't own anything. Hoorah.

14. Tales Told: Captain Jack Sparrow

Although I had never met Jack Sparrow before, I had heard countless stories about him. He was only a handful of years older than I, but he had been racing about the Caribbean as captain of his own ship, causing all sorts of mischief, since he was only eighteen. Stories said he could charm any woman, and that he was rarely seen without at least one bottle of rum at hand. He had only ever been caught by one person, and that was Cutler Beckett of the East India Trading Company; no one knows why Beckett let him go after having caught him, but the fact that Sparrow had been caught at all was quite a wonder to most people. One thing that I always found somewhat intriguing about him was that in all his time as captain, neither he nor his crew had ever killed an innocent person – they might steal the clothes off a man's back, but as long as he was not pointing a rifle with a bayonet at them, they would not kill him. This might have made me more lenient towards Sparrow, except for one little grudge I held against him: he was the son of one Captain Teague, the man who had attacked my father's ship so many years before. And, to avenge the ruin and death of my father, I was determined to catch and execute Jack Sparrow if it was the last thing I did.

I don't think there is any way I could possibly forget the day that I first came face to face with Jack Sparrow for the first time. My promotion ceremony passed by in a nervous whirl of red coats, powdered wigs, tapping drums, and barked orders. I was given a beautiful new sword – made, as I well knew, by the boy whom my crew had rescued so many years before – and accepted it with much elaborate twirling and pomp, hoping that perhaps you were watching and would be impressed. I had already decided that today of all days would be the most appropriate to propose to you (isn't it a curious thought?), and in truth I spent most of the rest of the ceremony trying to force the fluttering in the pit of my stomach to stop. When the formalities finally ended, I of course had to endure the boring processes of hand-shaking and compliment-receiving before I could go find you and put an end to my uncertain suffering. I slipped away from the throng of well-wishers as gracefully and as soon as I could, but before I could make a full escape, your father, who knew exactly what I was up to, squeezed my shoulder and whispered, 'Good luck,' into my ear.

Even now, after so much time has passed, I cannot help but be rather embarrassed about the pathetic manner in which I began my proposal. I was, I now realize, far too stilted and formal – I must have sounded like I was drafting a battle strategy, not courting a woman, for pity's sake. However, none of that matters much now, as before I could get to the main point of my soliloquy, you had fainted over the edge of the parapet. I cannot describe the horror I felt when I realized what had happened – indeed, I think my lieutenant Gillette snorted in laughter every time he saw me for the next month or so because, when he heard my cry of dismay and ran over to see what was wrong, I was stripping off my coat and on the verge of jumping off the parapet after you. Instead, my men and I dashed from the fort down to the docks as quickly as we could… only to find you lying drenched on the deck, dressed in nothing but your underclothes (a fact that would have no doubt mortified me had the circumstances been any different), and surrounded by three men, the first two of whom I knew to be bumbling but rather harmless soldiers… but the third…

How does one describe a first impression of Jack Sparrow? He was exactly what I had always tried not to be – unkempt, dressed in a motley array of clothing, sly wit twinkling in his eyes and the cheeky grin that he just could not contain. Of course, at the time I could only guess that the man I was facing was Jack Sparrow – all I knew for certain was that he was a pirate who at the moment was leaning over the half-dressed woman I had just proposed to in a most menacing fashion. When I drew my sword and held it to his throat, glaring down at him, he did not glare back, angry at having finally been caught, as so many other pirates did; instead, he glanced down at the blade in a most bewildered manner and pulled himself to his unsteady feet, holding his hands out as though trying to keep his balance while never showing any concern for the fact I was about ready to impale him. I won't deny that the man had me completely caught off my guard, but I tried not to show it as your father anxiously bustled over to you and began worriedly asked about your safety and such. The pirate held his hands up innocently, still disregarding the threat of the sword pointed at him, and gave me a winning smile that I had to work hard not to laugh at – did the man not realize how absolutely ridiculous he was making himself look? I admit, as determined as I was to have him hanged the next day, I could not help but be fascinated with his nonchalant demeanor… so it was with only a half-reluctant heart that I lowered my weapon when you spoke out against your father's orders to shoot the pirate.

That smile was beginning to really irritate me, though. I was more than eager to wipe it off of his face.

'I believe thanks are in order,' I said in a business-like fashion, sheathing my sword. Sparrow gave my hand another confused look before hesitantly taking it. In one deft movement, I pulled his shirt sleeve up, exposing a burn scar in the shape of an elaborate P. Only one man in the Caribbean had a brand like that – he kept in with the poker and the rake by the fireplace in his office. My suspicions deepened. 'Had a brush with the East India Trading Company, now, did we… pirate?' I said, calling for Gillette to fetch some irons as I heard your father let out a triumphant 'Hang him!' The pirate winced, acting as though I had not realized that he was a pirate from the instant I saw him, or that he had not known he would be jailed and hung for it. A small blue line peeking from under the rest of his sleeve caught my eye, and I tugged it up a bit further to find a picture of a small bird – a sparrow – soaring gracefully over the waves. My heart began to beat faster – here, at last, was the son of the pirate whose attack had ruined my father's life and nearly ruined mine as well.

'Well, well,' I sneered, deciding that revenge was far more important than my curiosity for this quirky man, 'Jack Sparrow, is it now.' I derisively threw his arm back down to his side, wondering what the penalty would be for killing him on the spot without a proper and legal hanging.

The pirate winced again. 'Captain Jack Sparrow, if you please, sir,' he said in an agonized voice, seemingly more agitated about the lack of title than about the fact that I was going to hang him for it. This just irritated me more: I wanted to be able to strike fear into the heart of this man, more than any other pirate I had ever encountered, and yet he refused to be frightened.

'I don't see your ship, Captain,' I replied somewhat sarcastically. It was true – I hadn't seen Sparrow's ship arrive – and I knew no better way to insult the man than to point out that if he had no ship, he wasn't really a captain.

'I'm in the market,' replied the man coolly, 'as it were.'

' 'E said 'e'd come to commandeer one… These are 'is, sir,' said one of the sailors, bustling up with Sparrow's things as I glared at the pirate. All right, then, he wasn't reacting to a direct insult to his position… I examined and critiqued each of his other pitiful belongings – a pistol with only one shot, a compass that didn't point north, and a battered old sword – trying to bring a scowl to Mr Sparrow's face with each new insult I threw at him. 'You are without a doubt the worst pirate I've ever heard of,' I said finally, out of ideas.

Sparrow raised his eyebrows. 'But you have heard of me,' he pointed out.

I was livid. Why was this man refusing to act like a normal human being and admit his defeat?! All patience lost, I grabbed Sparrow by the arm and dragged him over to where Gillette was waiting with the handcuffs.

I believe it was at this point that you began to protest Mr Sparrow's arrest. 'Pirate or not, this man saved my life,' you more or less shouted at me, stationing yourself between Sparrow and me.

'One good deed cannot redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness,' I asserted, and was about to go on, but Sparrow interrupted, adding in, 'Though it seems enough to condemn him.' At least he had admitted to the fact that he was now my captive. 'Indeed,' I replied coldly, although inside I was actually rather startled by the ironic truth of the statement.

I have no doubt you remember the events that followed – Sparrow threatened to kill you and ran away, Turner managed to keep Sparrow occupied with fencing while my men broke down the door, and away Sparrow went to the prison. If I know your father, he probably whisked you back home and barricaded you inside the house to prevent any more mayhem from occurring. In honesty, I'm not quite sure if he was more worried about your personal safety, or that you'd run off with the pirates – I think he found your sympathetic stance towards Sparrow quite disconcerting.

I, meanwhile, went to the fort and held a quick and speedy trial for Mr Sparrow, as law requires. The verdict: guilty of piracy. Obviously. The guilty party was sentenced to hang at dawn, and everyone left the courtroom quite bored and unsurprised by the outcome.