Author: karasu
Email: shinigami62@hotmail.com
Parings: none right now…prologues are nifty that way….will does make an appearance in the future thou…this is not a jack-centric fic. Okay-- you got me-- it *IS* bwahahahaha.
Archive: none outside of good'ol' FFN; Excluding my home computer (but that hardly counts, ne?). Feel free to take and post where ever you'd like, send to whom ever you'd like….. just please, warn me first.^^;
Disclaimer: characters belong exclusively to Disney and a bunch of OTHER people….I make no monetary profit from re-arranging them in my mind. However, if you would like to send me complementary muffins to inspire me….. -^.^- nay, not to pay or even bribe me, INSPIRE. *whispers* I wont tell anyone! Swear!
Author's note: (re-uploaded it to edit the formatting...hate html formatting X_X I couln't help editing it a bit, but that's only because i'm never happy with the results, nothing to fear though-- just wanted to make it flow better...i suppose i should of done that prior to posting but some friends were eager to read it...)
Oh yeah…the actual note….umm…never been to Inagua, considering the neighboring islands and such, I doubt it has massive volcanic outgrowth if any at all. It just suited the story. And I liked the name so was unwilling to change it, however, it IS an actual place…east of Cuba and north of Hispaniola and Tortuga by default ^_^; careen = turning a ship on it's side to clean it's bottom before the barnacles eat at the hull and sink the ship, usually done twice a year I believe.
Prologue | : | By what Bounds
Under the Jolly Roger
Jack stood on the top deck of his forty-gun beauty.
Many long years had drifted past him as he plotted and planned to reclaim her, his bad fortune deterring him in ways that could prove disillusioning to any other man, but, he had her once more. All his patience had paid off, his numerous encounters with danger and death only side-dishes to spread his name: The infamous Captain Jack Sparrow; never had the name sounded sweeter to his ear, never had it rung so melodiously in the passing air, and never had it held that authentic golden pitch of power-- of influence. If the possession of the fastest, most notorious ship wasn't enough of a compliment to his abilities (and backdrop to his name), then surely, the idea that he had claimed her twice, was most definitely flattering.
The humid night air cradled subtly the barren masts and shifting ropes, as the Black Pearl, the object of his constant and suffocating attention, rocked in her resting point behind quite a massive cliff. They were stationed for the night off the coast of Inagua and the crew had, for the most part, all rowed happily ashore to spend the gold they'd justly earned. They had numerous successful accounts with unarmed merchant chips in the area, earning them not only a fulfilling bit of gold and goods, but quite a bit of the aforementioned notoriety as well. He never did understand exactly why other pirates were foolish enough as to kill men in merchant ships, when in fact, stealing the caps off their heads and leaving them in a fright was more profitable in the long run. Word of mouth was a sensational thing, and proof of it's efficiency surrounded the proud pirate like dense fog. The merchants were never too heavily armed-- and the struggle was never too prodigious-- but once the men reached land, their tales received amazing acclaim. Suddenly the ships were bigger, faster, and all the more Dangerous, and the battles all the more bloody and gruesome. A seaman's tale would stretch the accounts of yesteryear for any land-ridden man listening, and attacked merchants were no exception-- they would tell of their ship being sacked for all eternity. Whether it's a pirate's short fight or a merchant's glorious struggle for life, men seemed to enjoy idolizing themselves-- and he was all aflutter with the tales of his sub-human and demonic disposition.
Smirking, Jack lifted his foot off the main rail and made his way for the captain's cabin where the allure of rancid rum paved a golden path to a warm bed and a nearing, gruesome tomorrow. He had almost convinced both the crew and himself, that he was there to watch for potential threats until the crack of morn-- but it was highly unlikely that anyone of any importance might see the inviolable ship, and the men knew it well. The growth of thick, blackish rock hid them just in the unlikely case any man-o-war were to pass by, and quite frankly the area was practically deserted when in regards to royal authority. The only reason they were there to begin with, was merely because the ship was well past due for a good careening and restocking, but then, there was nothing he could do about either until the crew returned. After all, how did the infamous Jack Sparrow keep his newer men happy? Why-- simply by allowing them to crowd ashore and celebrate their successes--that is, before putting them hard at work...
With flaccid movements he walked into the middle of the cabin and after a sudden realization, slowly turned and walked back to the entryway, to bring the heavy wooden door to a close. He fingered the designs on the iron latches detachedly, and with the same absence of mind, gracelessly waltzed to his desk to light a few candles and cover them with flamboyant gestures of hand and glass.
The idle lights lit up half the cabin, but more importantly, reflected off the decorative liquor cabinet a few steps away from his desk. He stared at the faded reflection in the glass covers, however. Turning his face to get a better angle, ignoring how the strings of beads embroiled into his hair signaled even the lightest tilt. With absolute disinterest, he reached a hand to touch the reflection with a queer expression of royal revulsion and a few more sways of his fingers. He always thought it rather odd that he should never really age too much, and had lost count of how many years he'd been a pirate and how many years he'd been alive-- oddly enough he looked the same now as he did when he was in his later twenties and just beginning--he scarcely looked like a bloody brute yet-- and he found no interest at all in the irony.
He took off his three cornered hat and tossed it carelessly it atop his desk, distracting himself only for a second before opening the cabinet and taking out an old, cloudy 'wine' bottle. It did irk at him sometimes, not knowing if his body was rotting on the insides and only posing as healthy and young to distract him. But what did it matter, It was a wonderful night, and if he was unbeknownst to a problem, he would ignore it and focus on others more deserving of his attention. He smiled condescendingly at his reflection, as if mocking it's very existence on the opaque glass, and downed half the bottle in a single gulp. He didn't seriously want to pass up the opportunity to celebrate, you see, whether it be in town or ship. That was all he wanted of the night. A chance to celebrate.
He strolled to the bed, swaying the bottle at his side, with all the joy and worry of a man living in the worthwhile present with insignificant binds to the past. He carried with him no need for visions of neither an ill nor pleasant future. He had no need for recounts of events long gone, and he tried to bask in the comfortable emptiness. He fell back against the stiff makings, and stretched out his tense neck. Slowly, he brought the bottle to his lips once more and merely laid with his eyes closed in slight relaxation.
Great night it was for relaxing. Two full years. Whether he deserved a celebration or not, he would have one. After all, He was Captain Jack Sparrow. Bloody scourge of the Spanish Main.
-------
The heavy sun was drawing out the third day, and so far restocking was going on schedule. They had a fair amount of salted meat, fruit and alcohol and all that was left was a few kegs of fresh drinking water. Jack stood on the main deck, sun beating mercilessly against his back, whist Gibbs walked back and forth, documenting every barrel and keg with surprising precision on a yellowing sheet of paper.
Despite an uncharacteristic delay, the last of the men had finally arrived -- remains of joyous grins painted carelessly across their charred faces as they rowed nearer to the Pearl-- the rest were lifting the heavy sails to ready the ship for a short trip into the other side of the bleak, rocky island. Inagua was an odd Island, at best. Upon the cliffs at the western edge sat the settlement they so enjoyed visiting, but unfortunately, the small island had only one inefficient and moreover, unfinished fort, that got little funding during it's beginning-- being so close to Cuba, they thought it ridiculous to invest in such a small and unstable location. Most of the island was unsettled wilderness that had been left as it was, for no further reason.
The fresh kegs of water were heaved onboard, and all men quickly took to their places, whist others moved the kegs into a lower deck. It took them no great expanse of time to sink into their old jobs, their hands automatically seeping into their duties without a regretful thought to deter them. They all preferred the jobs to any other, no matter how rough it could become, under the suffocating Caribbean sun. Hands tugged at the ropes and sails and ran from place to place in guised tiredness. Jack walked to the captain's wheel, face set in a grim look of concentration. He ran his fingers over the smooth wood of the wheel, the familiar designs etched onto the dark wood always a reassuring sight. They had their supplies, so only one thing was left to accomplish before they could sail away towards the loving bosom of their one and only, the sea-- and the idea of endless profits and freedom she lured them with. They were well aware of the dangers that careening insured, but if all went well, maybe they would remain in the area and plunder southbound merchants sailing to the nearby Tortuga. They had enough provisions now to remain sea bound for no more than three months without going anywhere near land.
Jack took hold of the wheel and shouted orders for the anchor to be lifted. The men followed suit and the coarse sails turned. It was a majestic sight. The Black Pearl took wind, sails stretching with ardor, as they allowed the ship to be pushed alongside the cliffs. She broke through the tides, her dark hull creating unnatural reflections in the once-still water. As they sailed away, parallel to the massive, dark buildup of rock, they came as close to the mainland of the island as they could, without having to fear disaster. The expanse of rocky land subsided slowly as they passed, and as men towards all things treasured, it unwillingly revealed the rare beauty of blue skies spanning above them towards the yet unseen horizon. With each wave the waters grew less and less violent, and the white sands reached further into the steep black rocks that were becoming nothing but a gradually descending memory. They would undoubtedly be nearing the other side of the island, in less than an hour's time.
The men methodically tightened ropes around deck, and constantly checked all vitals of the ship. Gibbs had run into the captain's cabin to submit the reports on the newly bought supplies, and unfortunately, the irregular wind patterns that insured, would keep Jack at the wheel for the next hour. He was stiff, his deep-set eyes focused on the distance, while mentally reviewing some idle thoughts and calculations. The men were terrified of a careen and he needed to get it over with as smoothly as possible. They feared any effectiveness on the part of the Royal authority, which, though almost absent in Inagua, had been more and more lively when extinguishing the few remains of piracy. None of which mattered to Jack, of course, since he was confident that they could never muster up enough skill to catch him, were he in his Pearl. Their continual failed attempts were providing a silent accolade, in his mind. The Pearl was the last real pirate ship in the Caribbean, and she had stayed thus for more than nineteen years now. No authority of theirs could stifle their collective fate (though he could see why they would try). They were legendary pirates. They were the best at what they did. And they still hungered for more. The newer ones were fools to doubt him.
Eventually, though, the waves grew clear as they stretched themselves over the white sand, and his thoughts were distracted. The beach ran for a few feet before a web of trees covered it in shadows. Jack had found the perfect place, and he thanked whatever god there was for such good luck.
"alright now, loves, be on ye guard " he said silently to no one in particular, as his eyes followed the island's outline. He turned the wheel slightly, forcing the ship to get as close to land as possible, and then turning her slightly to cut though it. The waters grew clearer and more docile, as the Black pearl ripped through them. She hit shallow waters and slowed dramatically -- which was enough of a sign for the crew.
The sails were being lowered and several men ran to the second deck.
"Bring all 'er cannons broadside!!" Jack shouted after them, his deep voice scraping at his throat at it escaped him, slurred words commanding nonetheless. He left the wheel and ran towards Gibbs, who was helping with the ropes. Jack placed a hand on his shoulder, and when the man looked up, he said absentmindedly whilst periodically looking to his surroundings.
"Get' er to tip to the right, we'd be too vulnerable to attacks otherwise in this location, savvy?" at Gibbs' nod he continued "I'm going ashore, mate, send half a dozen to scout the area after me."
Gibbs nodded again in confirmation and got up to begin shouting orders, as Jack walked to the side of the ship, making his way as gracefully as any other through the men doing their appointed tasks systematically and without thought. He suddenly turned around though, wobbling to the sides, and brought his hand to his chin in a thoughtful pose.
"oh, an-b'efore I-f'orget," he smiled at Gibbs sarcastically "I want two of 'er cannons brought ashore.." He nodded to himself to save Gibbs the trouble of confirmation, and before the first mate could say anything, he took hold of a rope, and slid down the side of the ship.
--
Water splashed to his thighs and he could hear Cotton's parrot screeching it's way inland.
He walked into the beach and quickly surveyed the area. He had enough time to take a look around before the scouts would arrive. They would most surely be newer men, since he knew Gibbs liked to keep the experienced ones working. The blasted scouts would be on stand day and night, since the men wanted to feel safe, even if it did decrease his workforce a bit. Were it up to Jack, they would all be working, to speed up their departure from the blasted island.
But it wasn't always up to Jack, and he had to listen to his men.
They had already unloaded all the kegs of water into the beach, and were in the process of hauling one of the cannons. The Pearl was already keeling to her side, as they continued to put everything with enough weight on one side of the ship. Cannons, kegs, and brute force would all eventually lead her to show more of her barnacle-clad underbelly, for well-deserved cleaning.
He could already see the scouts approaching, big burly men which he knew only by structure. He scrunched up his nose, when he realized that the men put to guard, were each more than twice his size and strength. Personal scouting would have to wait it seemed. He waited until they had reached him, bobbing as they walked, too burly to move efficiently through the shallow waters and hot sands without giving the impression of oversized, burly, tattooed and bloodthirsty ducks. They would have to do until he checked the other vitals and went to curse Gibbs back into whatever brewery he crawled out of this morning. He put a hand to his waist and pointed around the parameters.
"ye'll not leave this area, and scout for anything that might look…" he swayed his free hand for emphasis "…suspicious" A sardonic smile graced his features only temporarily, before he bitterly walked away, practically stomping. What a waste of good labor, he would have to talk to Gibbs later, the old man must have been blind. Really, to place such strong men, to relieve them of duty so quickly…the man was out of his mind.