A boat with my name on it - by Cunien

Disclaimer: Jack Sparrow belongs to no man but himself! Anamaria belongs to no man either - not even Jack. And the Jolly Mon belongs to Anamaria. Not Jack.

Warning: here be mild cockney swearing as befits a diamond in the rough like Jack Sparrow

In answer to anyone who believes Jack has acted and is acting like a dog in this fic - I agree, and my little heart is breaking at having to write it. BUT, and the capital letters show that it is a very big but', to write Captain Jack Sparrow any other way would be grievously out of character. I mean...Pirate!! This is how I see Jack anyway. He's out for himself in the long run, maybe feeling the odd twinge of guilt along the way, but nothing more. As in instances such as rescuing' Anamaria from Kennedy and his men, no matter what he says, I know that his motives weren't purely selfish. But I wouldn't ask anything more from him, unless you don't mind being sorely disappointed.
Sorry. Had to be said.

Thanks for the birthday greetings! Here's hoping 19 treats me better than 18!

Thankyou everyone for being nice. This is the last of this particular tale.
I know this isn't as good as Ah, the memories!', but it was fun to write, and I hope it hadn't disappointed.

Chapter 8 - Come Uppance

It took me roughly an hour to get Anamaria off me, gently so as not to wake her, get dressed and leave the room.

Then another 30 minutes to get down the stairs.

Luckily the lovely maid Sarah Browne found me prostrate ten steps from the bottom and helped me down, though not before a great deal of fussing and faffing around. I was in no mood for this, but couldn't sum up the energy to do anything about it to be honest.

So I know there's no chance that I can get around to Taffy's - it was hard enough when I was in perfect health. Right now, broken bruised and still bleeding all over the shop, I didn't have a hope in hell.

So I made my very slow way down to the docks.

It was about an hour from dawn. I knew Taffy would be down not long after the sun had risen, but I wasn't entirely sure I could stay conscious till then.

I thought about going to the bush and having a little shut-eye there. The problem was that if I did I couldn't promise I'd wake up in time to catch Taffy, and before the booze wore off and Anamaria brought down her terrible wrath upon me. I was hoping to be at least 10 miles away by then. Though I wasn't sure if even that would be far enough.

If you wrong a girl like Anamaria she'll hunt you down if she has to wander the earth for the rest of her life. Take it from me - I've wronged a lot of women in my time.

So down at the dock, I sit beside Taffy's little stock of ramshackle row boats for sale and wait. I've taken out my pistol right, and I'm just sitting there, shaking like a leaf and pointed it at the darkness expecting Anamaria to come leaping out at me with an un-godly shriek at any moment.

I'd just like to make it clear that I wasn't shaking from fear. I was feeling a little grotty right then, as I'm sure anyone would if they'd had the 24 hours that I'd just had. The rum was wearing off and I was feeling like I'd just been keel-hauled across the hull of a boat that hadn't been careened for a century, and was home to the world's population of barnacles.
Big, spiky barnacles.

But I must have drifted off for a moment, because the next thing I know Taffy's looking down at me in shock and slight disgust and poking me tentatively with a stubby finger.

I opened one eye and glared at him. He jumped back, looking terrified. I was aiming for an aggressive look, but the truth was that I only had the strength to open one eye.

Iesu Grist! He gasped and crossed himself. What in heaven has been happening to you?!

I am not... in the mood.. to talk about it..right now. I managed, through a mouth that felt like it was packed with sand.

He was leaning over me, so I reached up and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and tugged him closer.

Get..me a boat. I muttered, Any bloody boat. Then help me in it, and row me...1 mile east, along the coast.

He looked horrified. As he often does.

Hop to it. I ordered.

And he did. He was remarkably quick.
Or maybe I blacked out for a while.
Whatever the case, I found myself being dumped as carefully as Taffy could manage, but still unceremoniously into the puddle of water at the bottom of a leaky bucket of a row boat.

I hate row boats.

But Taffy rowed for me, so at least I could just sit back and rest my eyes a while.

I gave the little Welshman Anamaria's directions and let him do the rest.
The motion of the waves comforted me, and I lay down in the bottom of the boat, feeling the warm sun on my face and the warm bilge water soak into my clothes.

I felt better already.

I thought about what I was going to do if I could pull this one off and make good my escape with the Jolly Mon. I would have to change the plan a little, obviously, but thinking on his feet is Jack Sparrow's forte ain't it? There was no way I was in a fit state to go to Port Royal at the moment. Even if I could get all the way from Tortuga to Jamaica, you need to be on your toes if you're a pirate in Port Royal.

No, it could wait a while. All I needed to do right now was get as far away from Anamaria as I could. I needed to sail the comparatively small distance to Hispaniola, find a nice little bush, get the Jolly Mon in there and lie low for a day or two until I was feeling a little more meself.

Easier said than done though, eh?

But don't be forgetting who's the hero of this tale, old Captain Jack Sparrow. And when my little heart's set on something you'd have to move heaven and earth to stop me. I'd get the boat, sail to the nearby island of Hispaniola and drag that boat into the trees if it took me a week.

Well, that's if Anamaria didn't catch me before then.

So Taffy's puffing and gasping, rowing away, and I'm thinking that I'm doing him a favour - helping him get a little much needed exercise.

But he clears his throat and I get up as carefully as I can, and look at the cliffs near where out sad little leaky boat is bobbing around.

There were big strips of dark rocks, like folds in the cliff face, leading down into the water.

We rowed on a little, or Taffy did anyway, and we came around the corner to find a tiny sandy cove where a small stream reached the sea. On the other side of the beach, the cliff's rose up once more, and it was here we found the cave.

Two folds of dark rock, each as wide as a man was tall, ran down the cliff side by side. Down nearer the water they separated and the cave hollowed out between them, the dark rock like a massive archway above.

I knew this was it. Even if this wasn't the only cave in sight, I knew Anamaria would have chosen this one - it was dramatic, and if there's one thing the ladies like it's drama.

Now don't be looking at me like that. I can see all the men nodding and ladies clucking and shaking their heads but it's all true. I've know a lot of ladies in my time, from every walk of life, and while everyone was as varied and different to the last one as was possible, they all had one thing in common - a romantic constitution.

Of course that particular affliction isn't confined to females alone. Oh no. Just look at William Turner and you'll see what I mean.

I can see the light of understanding dawning in your eyes now eh? Haha. There we go.

So this was the cave, and I told Taffy so.

This is the cave. says I, and he rowed us over there.

It was tricky negotiating the black rocks sticking their heads up through the waves. The swell kept pushing us over towards them and threatening to smash our poor little row boat against the cliffs.

We were wasting precious time. We had to get the sail, the rudder, centreboard, oars - the very limbs of the boat - and get back to Tortuga in time to sail off into the sunset before Anamaria woke. Or things would get messy. Very messy indeed.

With this thought sounding like a 12 gun salute in my head I pushed aside the pain and wrestled the oars off the panicked Taffy, the lubber.

I soon had the boat in the cave and managed to beach her on the little sandy ledge. Taffy hopped out, obviously glad to be on solid ground once more, and helped me out. I felt and moved like a old man.

This particular cave was as big as a house, and I noted it's whereabouts because, like the bush from before, it would make quite a nice hide-out should the occasion call for such a thing.

Which, me being Captain Jack Sparrow, it often does.

Anyway, it goes quite far back this cave, dwindling into the darkness. But there's no need to go all that far, because within a few metres of the high tide mark, lashed securely to the rocks, are all the paraphernalia that my Jolly Mon required.

I just want to make it clear that I fell to my knees then not out of relief or anything. I was just feeling a little shaky.

Within ten minutes we'd loaded everything onto the boat and were rowing as fast as we could back to Tortuga. Well, I say we' but really it was just Taffy.

But by the time we rounded the cliff and Tortuga's port loomed into view I was having bloody kittens and resorted to paddling along with my own hands in an attempt to get there faster.

We reached the jetty, coming up right beside the Mon, and I jumped out, even though every square inch of my body swore vehemently at me for doing so.

So with fumbling fingers I undo the mooring ropes and tie them tightly onto the back of Taffy's little row boat, I grab the oars and together we're off!

It was easy.
Too easy.

We made a push to round the corner, and pass out of sight behind the cliffs to the east of the port as fast as we could.

And there she was, like I knew she would be.

My arms were hurting like hell, so I paused for a minute and let Taffy do the hard work for once. I turned to get one last glance at the dock.

Anamaria was walking carefully down to the sea, her head stiff and high as though she were balancing a bottle of rum on top of it. She winced and I could almost feel the sympathy pains of the pounding headache she was sure to be experiencing.

Oh no. They weren't sympathy pains. That was my own head.

She looked up and right at me for a second before she realised what she was seeing.

I had to turn away.
The fury and betrayal on her face was just so painful - like the waves of hatred could somehow cross the distance between us and strike me stone dead.

Hurry hurry. I screamed at Taffy as Anamaria's own screams reached me.

They seemed to reverberate around the cliffs and echo on and on - they followed us up the coast.

We reached the spit of land called the Devil's finger, pointing out towards Hispaniola. It was the closest to the bigger island, and it was here that we transferred the various bits and bobs to the Jolly Mon.

I put the centreboard in, and the rudder, set the sails and parted company with poor Taffy, who waved amiably - obviously glad to be rid of me but obviously not realising yet that it was he who had to return to Tortuga. And Anamaria.

I felt better already. The breeze was picking up and just being in my fully reassembled boat made me feel so good I felt like singing. So I did. The Jolly Mon handled perfectly and was a dream to sail - which was good, because seeming as I'd never sailed her before, it would be a bit of a let down if, after all this she was little better than a leaky bucket.

The rest of the day was uneventful. I was worried about Anamaria commandeering a boat and coming after me like some avenging spirit, but at the same time I couldn't rush it and end up killing myself somewhere between Tortuga and Hispaniola. It wasn't that far but it felt like a hundred miles with my aching arms.
And head.
And legs.
And everything else you care to mention, and some you'd care not to.

When I got to the deserted shores of Hispaniola I was as sick and tired as a dog.
I didn't know who owned the damned place right then, the Spanish or the French, as it was so hard to keep up. But I didn't give a fig, and was just pleased that there was no one around.

I managed to drag the boat up the shore a little and hide her in the trees. Luckily the beaches along the island's Northern coast were long thin things, and it wasn't far to go before the dense palm trees and nice bushes had swallowed us up.

I slept in the Jolly Mon, not wanting to leave her. If Anamaria found us she'd have to evict me bodily.

So I lay there and slept like a baby for a day and a night.
When I woke up again, the sun was rising and I felt all fresh and new born.

Well, I mean I still felt like shit, but a damn sight better than before.

So I got up and filled the boat with as much food as I could find, drank some rum that I'd lifted from Taffy while we were in the boat together, and set off.

I sailed right around, hugging the cliffs and keeping a weather eye out for anything vaguely Anamaria-like. I reached a tiny seaside village by night- fall and stayed there for a while to recuperate. I can't remember it's name - like I said, the place changes hands so often it's hard to tell if it's a Puerto or a Port or something entirely different.

The place's inhabitants didn't seem to have much of a clue either. They wandered round in a sort of confused daze. I speak a bit of French and Spanish but frankly can't be arsed to most of the time, when english and mime is so much easier.

The people seemed pleased to see an outsider and exchanged perfectly good rum and food and water for news, some of which was real and some of which I made up. I told them the island had fallen back into Spanish hands because they'd been nice to me and I felt as if I owed them. It was a lie but that wasn't the point. They seemed happy to have a definite answer, and as I left two weeks later almost every building was flying a Spanish flag above it's roof.

It was good sailing. I had rum and food. The sun was shining and I sang as loud as I could most days as I sailed.

I never felt truly at ease though - the shadow of Anamaria still fell on me and the Mon.

But as Port Royal came into view I heaved a sigh of relief, because I'd actually gotten away with it.

About a mile from shore I noticed the water sloshing round in the bottom of the boat.

I said Now this wasn't here before.

And it wasn't.

Because Anamaria hadn't just taken the rudder, the centreboard, the sails and the oars. Oh no.

She'd taken the little wooden peg in the hull.

A small bit of oiled cloth had been wadded up and pushed in to block the hole, obviously only meant to keep the boat afloat while she sat in Tortuga's dock. Anamaria knew that I wouldn't notice, and that if the Mon was taken out into the open ocean she wouldn't stay afloat long.

With this realisation all guilt I may have felt about taken Anamaria's boat fled like a sudden squall.

That....devious....sneaky..underhanded....woman!!!

I was surprised and rather proud that the thing had managed to stay afloat this long, as if it was personal snub against Anamaria.

But I was a little bit proud of her too, to be honest. I'd taken her for a naive chit of a girl. I told her to trust no one and ended up not falling for it all myself. I underestimated her.

And I suppose I have her to thank, because I got the entrance I wanted.
After all it was the reason I wanted Anamaria's boat in the first place.

Because they'll remember the man who sailed in to Port Royal in the most ridiculously small sailing boat ever to put to sea, standing proudly atop it's mast as it sank slowly and gloriously beneath the tide.

They'll remember the man who sailed in on the Jolly Mon.

THE END.

Hehe.
Sorry about the lame ending. Also I always seem to miss typos when reading on the computer, and my printer isn't working so I haven't been over it with a fine tooth comb! I'm sure you can make heads and tails of it....can't you?!

Right - as soon as I can manage it there will be another fic winging it's way to you, if you'll take it, titled (at the moment) All creatures great and small', another first person about young Jack and how he came to be a pirate. And also about his lifelong feud with donkeys.

Thanks to -
Rat - pie sounds nice. Thanks for your gifts of lovely reviews and recommending me!

First Matey Sara - Thanks to you too little lady - the salty seadog style happy birthday and your constant support and kindness. And of course the inspiration for the story to begin with. I know this isn't as good as Ah, the memories!', but it was fun to write, and I hope it hadn't disappointed.

Cal - that has to be the longest review I've ever seen let alone that's been written for a fic of mine! Thankyou so much!
By the way - is the new hat you're sending me big? With lacy trimming and buckles and ostrich feathers and the like? I'll have to hide it from the Man in my hat then. lol.

Kingleby- I'm glad, as a Jack/Ana fan you can see that this isn't that kind of story, but still enjoy it. Thankyou!

Rae Roberts - glad you got the Muppet's Treasure Island bit. A veritable goldmine of pirate info!

And to anyone else who reviewed and/or enjoyed this - thankyou so much, may the wind always be at your backs and sun on your face. But not in your eyes.
And if you find yourself alone, riding through green fields with the sun on your face, do not be afraid, for you are in Elysium....um........... ...wrong film. Got a bit carried away.
Sorry.
I'm sad now.