Ah, the memories! - by Cunien

Thanks for reviews!

Mild cockney swearing in this, but nothing too bad.

Disclaimer: Jack Sparrow is the property of no man but himself!


Chapter 2 - Jack finds God.

So I took one look up at the buildings advancing up the hill, further from the sea, and decide to stay away from there for now. That big house on the hill was Governor whassisname's, and the whole neighbourhood looked far too respectable for the likes of me. Ooh I hate that word, respectable'. You have to promise to shoot me if I ever turn even remotely respectable, right? Because you understand I can't do it to myself, due to my vow concerning the shot in my pistol, right?

Actually never mind the bloody vow. This is more important - I'd shoot myself.

Anyway, up there didn't look like the kind of place our friend the Man in my hat would let himself be seen. Unless he was up there to steal more hats off the bigwigs of Port Royal. You know, the ones with all the braiding and ostrich feathers and stuff.

So I decide the best place to look would be around the port - in the bars and shops. I asked a few people if they'd seen anyone wearing my hat, but they just looked at me like I wasn't right in the head or something.
One man called for the Marines, so I scarpered before they could get there.
Damn Marines - they're always just around the corner aren't they? Always there when you don't want them to be. And what do they look like, in them big white wigs and red coats? Poor sods. Don't know any better I suppose. I've heard the pay is reasonable, but a man can get by on very little these days, take it from me. Especially if he's not too scrupulous about morals and all that. Job satisfaction - that's the most important thing if you ask me.

Anyway, I should have known better than to approach the man who called the Marines. He looked far too respectable. Can't be trusted, see?

So I'm skulking down the main street, glaring at another donkey cos it's giving me the evil eye, when I hear this voice that I recognise from somewhere. I kept on walking till I was standing opposite the road with my back turned to this man. I was pretending to be interested in this little kid's stall, selling beads and trinkets and bits and bobs, but I'm in a position where I can manage a glance back at this man every now and again.

He was tall, with close cropped blonde hair and an ugly perpetually sunburnt face. If ever anyone needed a hat it was him. I knew I'd seen him before, so I racked my brains. Unfortunately they weren't on top form that morning, and nothing came to me. Standing in the mid-morning sun again see? Damned hat thief.

So this man was standing with his equally ugly, rough looking mates. Scurvy seadogs if ever I saw them. He was talking to someone who may have been the tavern owner from last night, though I couldn't be sure. Everyone looks different when you're sober.

The blonde man was saying - about so high. Dark eyes n' hair.
Hairy bugger. his mate chipped in. The blonde man glared at him till he shrunk behind some of his mates, and then he continued, Long hair, all dreadlocks and braided with beads and the like. Wears a red bandana. Ee's got a beard, braided into two little plaits -

Now so far, this could have been a description of half the men in the Spanish Main. But then the man goes -and he stands like this - to which he screwed up his eyes in concentration, waved his hands around rather randomly and swayed around in the most peculiar way.

He didn't half look daft!

I couldn't think what kind of a man would stand like that. If you could call it standing - it was more like moving while staying still.

So about now I happen to glance down, and beside this kid's stall is a trough for horses and, God forbid, donkeys, and in it I can see a reflection right?
Now there aren't many mirrors on board a ship, so a man doesn't really become accustomed to his appearance. It came as a bit of a surprise then, when my reflection shows a man with dark eyes and hair, all dreadlocks and braided with beads and the like, wearing a red bandana, with a beard braided into two little plaits.....
So of course I realise they're talking about me.

Now I'm really racking my brains, trying to place this man. I'm going through a mental list of all the people I'd offended over the years, but still, nothing comes to mind.

I don't know what they meant about the swaying though. I have been told I sway a little when I'm not on board a ship, but I'm sure I don't look anything like that!

Still, it doesn't seem wise for me to be hanging around right then. I turned and tried to walk up the street in a nonchalant and unassuming manner.
But I've not gone two steps before there's this godawful scream, and the boy who's stall I've been perusing is jumping up and down like he's just been stung in the arse. He's pointing at me and jabbering away, and suddenly I realise what he's saying.

THIEF! He stole from me ee did! Bloody thief!

I tried to placate the little whelp, but by now there's nothing for me to do but dive for the kid and try and shut him up.

He was only a tiny thing, just skin and bones really, but he was squirming around so much it was hard to keep hold of him. I had a hand over his mouth but he's still shouting underneath it loud enough to raise the dead.

So I've got this kid wriggling in my arms and I turn around to see if anyone's noticed, while he stops screaming and squirming to catch his breath.
Of course, the whole of Port Royal is staring at me then.

I grinned, flashing my best winning smile at them - a man can always fall back on charm if he has too.

Ha! Silly lad - we were just playing, you know....
They all looked at me, disbelieving.
Cops and robbers? I tried.

And of course here come the bleeding Marines, a whole troop of them, clomping around the corner, and the blonde man and his mates are running at me. Somewhere in the crowd I'm sure I see the Man in my hat smirking, and of course the filthy donkey is braying away like it's having a good old laugh.

Obviously, this situation called for a bit more than charm.

I ran like hell up the street, and there were people screaming and the stupid Marines shooting their muskets at me. Lucky for me they're all godawful shots.

Round the corner I had a few seconds to find somewhere to hide before they Marines and Blondie and his mates catch up. I tired the first door I came to, which happened to be the blacksmiths, and I was rattling away on it trying to get it open in desperation. And that's when I noticed the Church.

My first thought was of all those tales you hear of criminals taking sanctuary in churches while the law is camped outside, unable to get in. Then the criminal sneaks out the back door and runs off laughing like the cat who got the cream.

So I went running for this door, and thank God this one opened. Actually, considering it was a church I suppose I really do have the Maker to thank for opening the door and letting me into his house.

TBC....

More soon - next chapter - Father Jack'

Thankyou for all the reviews so far!

Rat, Braveheart, CrimsonDestiny, Becky, Kitty the drunken butterfly and Sparkling Pippin - thankyou so much! Not a scurvy seadog amongst you!