One Night

Jack Sparrow, Captain of the fated Black Peal, was something he never in seven hells though he would be.

Jack was bored of life.

Raping had never been his style, even Jack considered himself gentlemanly enough to avoid that particular pirating gig. The ladies came easily enough to him, anyway, handsome dog that he was. Pillaging was losing its sport. He had enough gold stored away to last him and his crew several life times of high luxury. Plundering- that still held some amusement for him, explosions were fun for boys of any age. Shattering glass was a sound he cherished.

Battles, Jack still loved. He adored the look on those pompous prick's faces when they were done in by him, Captain Jack Sparrow. But he really did not have the same stomach for murder, anymore. Shooting a man down in battle was one thing- killing him off to make sure he doesn't cause trouble was another. It was quite tiresome, really.

But it was getting so that even the battles weren't so fun. He was, quite simply and modestly, getting too good. There were no surprises anymore. All the Commodores and Captains and Princes and Kings all tried the same maneuvers- every time. How droll.

Jack woke with a start, leaning against the steering wheel of his ship, his hat pulled low over his eyes and an arm around the lovely but somewhat unconquerable Anamaria. He had been dozing. Bad Jack. He tapped himself on the nose. What a naughty boy. Perhaps Anamaria would agree to spanking him later. He nearly giggled at the thought.

What he needed was some excitement, some adventure. It was then he noticed they were rather close to the island where he had met Will and Elizabeth, where his last truly great adventure had ended and begun. Perhaps it was there something great would occur. And, at least he could stop by and visit his fondly remembered friends. Fate, it seemed, had wanted him to take a look. But could he really risk it? He had known both of them for maybe five days, they were really mere acquaintances. But it was then he noticed the bright orange sails that marked the boats of Captain Gunther.

Gunther was a pirate disliked by pirates for being a swindling, unfair, cheating bastard. Heading straight for Will's island. Something in Jack's blackened heart lurched. Was it because, unbeknownst to his conscious mind, his very own flesh and blood, his son was in mortal peril? Or was it merely the knowledge the good man Will, who has risked his own life for Jack's, and the lovely lady Elizabeth, who's bravery had amused and astounded him, were in danger? Whatever the reason, he did not ignore the feeling in his gut. He couldn't.

"The wind's changing, you bloody curs! Methinks we'll make a quick stop over there." He threw an arm out, indicating Will's island and Gunther's ship. The crew, collectively, grinned. Perhaps there would be a real fight this time. The wind was changing, indeed.