Okay, having read the quality of fics on this film, I am not sure if this
one is quite good enough, but here goes! It's my first try to do a PotC
fic, so be gentle, but any constructive criticism would be very much
appreciated! Especially as far as my characterisation goes!
In case you don't know, none of this belongs to me, except certain characters such as Marin, Elias and Danielson. The rest all belongs to Walt Disney . . . I mean, come on, if Jack - sorry - Captain Jack Sparrow belonged to me, would I really share him with you guys?
This does verge on the Mary Sue, so don't say you haven't been warned, and the rating is just to be safe, okay? Ready?
Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin . . .
*~*~*
A Silver Doubloon
*~*~*
Lovely as Port Royale was, it was not the place for a pirate. Especially one who made a habit of almost getting himself hanged every time he visited. The drums echoed through the town, announcing to one and all that the British Navy were once again trying to end the life and misadventures of Captain Jack Sparrow.
As usual, the crowd had gathered, not to see him die, but to witness firsthand how he would escape this time. A richly dressed young woman smiled seductively at the bound captain where he stood on the gallows, obviously hoping for some sign that he had seen her. The drums stopped and the charges were read.
Jack raised his eyes to the heavens, his mind racing. He had no idea where his crew were, since he had sent them off to enjoy themselves and they hadn't returned. Will Turner was off on the high seas with his lady, enjoying the life that had called to him since he was a child. He'd surreptitiously checked the gallows for imperfections and found none. For the first time in a long history of executions, Captain Jack Sparrow was stuck where he was, waiting for fate to intervene.
He held Commodore Norrington's gaze as the naval commander stared impassively at his prisoner, obviously waiting for him to sail away into the sunrise as he had done so many times before. Beside him, Governor Swann seemed less than happy with this repeat of a failed execution, and Jack found himself clinging to the hope that the governor might decide this was pointless and set him free.
The noose was placed around his neck, tight but not so as to strangle him. As with all pirates, the people wanted to see a short drop and a sudden stop, not a convulsing, twitching, elongated death. Jack found himself looking into the face of death itself, and determined not to let it win.
As the drums began again, he drew in a deep breath, preparing himself for what could be his final few minutes. The drumming slowed to the rhythmic beat that announced his impending demise. With one deft movement, the executioner pulled the lever that would open the floor beneath the pirate's feet.
There was a gasp from the crowd. The trapdoor had not opened. Jack could see the confusion on every military face, and the open amusement on the governor's. The boards felt solid beneath his feet, even to the point where he felt safe enough to dance a little jig.
'It would appear that today is not my day to die, Commodore,' he called across the rising tide of laughter that rose from the crowd.
Norrington inclined his head stiffly, refusing to rise to the bait. He motioned to the marines beside him.
'Return Mr Sparrow to the cells,' he ordered. 'And someone get that gallows fixed.'
The noose was removed and Jack found himself manhandled down the steps and through the crowd. As they approached the steps where the commodore stood, he called out,
'Am I to understand my departure from this world has been cancelled, mate?'
The commodore's gaze was cold, though as usual Jack could see the amusement behind his eyes at yet another failed attempt to get rid of him.
'Postponed, Mr Sparrow, merely postponed,' he informed the pirate.
Jack rolled his eyes impatiently.
'Captain, it's Captain,' he muttered as the marines marched him back to the cells. And from the shadows, a small figure hurried away, down into the town, full of the importance of his news.
*~*~*
The tavern was noisy, white noise that blacked out any semblance of normal thought from a person's mind. Everywhere the eye could see, men drank, gambled and wenched to their heart's delight, enjoying the hospitality of one of Port Royale's less than savoury quarters. The tavern women scurried back and forth between tables, dodging groping hands and keeping tankards filled.
There was a roar from a particularly rowdy corner, a huge voice demanding of attention.
'Marin! Marin, me lovely, bring us some rum and a measure of yer fine company!'
The girl in question spared him one withering glance and turned her back on his drunken calls, sharing an irritated glance with her companion. Ann glanced over at the table, wincing as a brawl broke out in the usual violent fashion.
'You can't keep ignoring him forever, Mar,' she said quietly, refilling her pitcher from the barrels behind the bar. 'Sooner or later, he's going to come and get you.'
Marin sighed.
'I know, I know,' she said wearily. 'But I hate it when he does this.'
Ann smiled gently, moving to cover her friend's hand with her own.
'He just wants you to know how much he cares,' she told her. 'I know you don't believe me, but he does care for you, Marin, deeply. You're the daughter he wishes he could have had.'
A faint smile touched the younger woman's face. Just for one moment, her stormy grey eyes lost their guarded look and glowed with a fondness that lit up her delicate features.
'I know,' she murmured, feeling suddenly small and alone, but for the man in the corner calling for her company.
Captain Elias Fitzpatrick had never been the best of men, being the proud possessor of a reputation that included rape and murder, and yet he had shown her kindness when she had most needed it. When she was a child, barely two years of age, her mother had taken her on a voyage to the Caribbean. All she remembered of the tragedy that had befallen them was guns and flying debris, and finding herself all alone in the water, clinging desperately to a cabin door that had somehow escaped the destruction. The next thing she remembered was being taken from the water by gentle hands, and a soft voice telling her not to be afraid, that she was safe now.
Elias' men had seen the smoke and heard the cannon fire, and sailed straight to the site of the battle, too late to intervene on either side. The bo'sun had spied a child floating in the water, and they had lowered a boat to retrieve her. Since they had found no other survivors, the captain had taken the little girl for his own daughter. He had named her Marin, a name that meant 'from the sea', because that was where he had found her. Ever since, she had been under his protection, and despite all outward appearances, the two were very close.
Marin was not the prettiest girl you could wish to see, but she was striking, a fact that made all men look her over carefully before noticing her ever-present guardian. Her pale skin and rich copper hair caught the eye, and the slender frame held it. She was a true Celt, Elias had decided, and they had journeyed to Ireland when she was a child to try and find anyone who might know her. The trip had not been successful, and to a certain extent she was glad. Marin was a pirate now, or at least, a pirate's lass, and was well able to look after herself. Why would she want to change her life now?
She gave another sigh and gave in, walking through the crowds to join her protector with two bottles of rum. Elias gave her a gold-toothed grin, one that she returned with amusement as she sat beside him.
'Now, me lass,' the captain declared. 'We've not had the pleasure of yer company since we docked. What is it about Port Royal that tears ye away from yer own?'
Marin smiled.
'The thought that if I stayed with you, I'd have to get drunk just to be able to stand your company, cap'n,' she told him, inwardly pleased with the guffaw of laughter her answer produced.
'Fair enough, fair enough,' Elias chuckled, throwing back his head to swallow the contents of his goblet. 'But will ye be boarding with us when the time comes to leave? That's the real question.'
He watched as she pretended to ponder the question, looking somewhat concerned, even though he already knew the answer. They played this game every time they set into port. Marin would find work for the duration of their stay while the men got as drunk as possible, and she would keep them hanging as to her intentions when they would set off. But, invariably, the sea called to her and she would rejoin her surrogate family with a light heart when the time came.
'We'll have to see about that, cap'n,' Marin informed her friend. 'Depends on whether you have room for a woman on board.'
'We always have room!' Elias announced indignantly, slapping the table in amusement at her words.
He smiled at her, once again thanking his stars that he had chosen to fish her from the water when he could so easily have left the child to die. She was his one saving grace, he knew that, and as long as he had his Marin, the world was a brighter place.
'Now, lass, how about a song? I could never grow tired of hearing me lovely's voice.'
Marin rolled her eyes in comical resignation. She should have expected this. With a gentle sigh, she allowed herself to be hauled to her feet and set atop the table, waiting for the rhythmic beat provided by the crews around them.
'We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot, Drink up, me hearties, yo ho! We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot, Drink up, me hearties, yo ho . . .'
As others joined in, Elias was distracted by a small hand tugging at his coat sleeve. Turning, he noticed his cabin boy grinning up at him, looking as though he had news that could be interesting. Elias nodded once to Marin as she danced from table to table, and slipped out into the cool, but above all, quiet street.
'Now, Dugan, me boy, what have ye to tell me?' he asked of the young lad.
Dugan grinned despite himself, hoping he had gathered the information his captain wanted.
'Cap'n, you know you said if Jack Sparrow was in town, you would want tae have words wi' him,' he began excitedly, encouraged when Elias' gaze sharpened on hearing the familiar name. 'Well, they tried tae hang him agin this morn, and it didnae work, so they've set his next execution fer sunrise.'
Elias nodded slowly, waiting for the location of the infamous Jack Sparrow. Dugan echoed the nod, his young face flushed with excitement and importance.
'He's bin ta'en back tae the cells fer the night, cap'n, you know, the ones beneath the fort.'
'Aye, that I do, young Dugan,' Elias agreed, squeezing the boy's shoulder. 'And I suppose ye know the way in, do ye?'
The grin widened.
'In and oot, cap'n,' Dugan told him.
A slow satisfied smile passed across Elias Fitzpatrick's face. He knew now what it was he would do with his time in Port Royale.
In case you don't know, none of this belongs to me, except certain characters such as Marin, Elias and Danielson. The rest all belongs to Walt Disney . . . I mean, come on, if Jack - sorry - Captain Jack Sparrow belonged to me, would I really share him with you guys?
This does verge on the Mary Sue, so don't say you haven't been warned, and the rating is just to be safe, okay? Ready?
Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin . . .
*~*~*
A Silver Doubloon
*~*~*
Lovely as Port Royale was, it was not the place for a pirate. Especially one who made a habit of almost getting himself hanged every time he visited. The drums echoed through the town, announcing to one and all that the British Navy were once again trying to end the life and misadventures of Captain Jack Sparrow.
As usual, the crowd had gathered, not to see him die, but to witness firsthand how he would escape this time. A richly dressed young woman smiled seductively at the bound captain where he stood on the gallows, obviously hoping for some sign that he had seen her. The drums stopped and the charges were read.
Jack raised his eyes to the heavens, his mind racing. He had no idea where his crew were, since he had sent them off to enjoy themselves and they hadn't returned. Will Turner was off on the high seas with his lady, enjoying the life that had called to him since he was a child. He'd surreptitiously checked the gallows for imperfections and found none. For the first time in a long history of executions, Captain Jack Sparrow was stuck where he was, waiting for fate to intervene.
He held Commodore Norrington's gaze as the naval commander stared impassively at his prisoner, obviously waiting for him to sail away into the sunrise as he had done so many times before. Beside him, Governor Swann seemed less than happy with this repeat of a failed execution, and Jack found himself clinging to the hope that the governor might decide this was pointless and set him free.
The noose was placed around his neck, tight but not so as to strangle him. As with all pirates, the people wanted to see a short drop and a sudden stop, not a convulsing, twitching, elongated death. Jack found himself looking into the face of death itself, and determined not to let it win.
As the drums began again, he drew in a deep breath, preparing himself for what could be his final few minutes. The drumming slowed to the rhythmic beat that announced his impending demise. With one deft movement, the executioner pulled the lever that would open the floor beneath the pirate's feet.
There was a gasp from the crowd. The trapdoor had not opened. Jack could see the confusion on every military face, and the open amusement on the governor's. The boards felt solid beneath his feet, even to the point where he felt safe enough to dance a little jig.
'It would appear that today is not my day to die, Commodore,' he called across the rising tide of laughter that rose from the crowd.
Norrington inclined his head stiffly, refusing to rise to the bait. He motioned to the marines beside him.
'Return Mr Sparrow to the cells,' he ordered. 'And someone get that gallows fixed.'
The noose was removed and Jack found himself manhandled down the steps and through the crowd. As they approached the steps where the commodore stood, he called out,
'Am I to understand my departure from this world has been cancelled, mate?'
The commodore's gaze was cold, though as usual Jack could see the amusement behind his eyes at yet another failed attempt to get rid of him.
'Postponed, Mr Sparrow, merely postponed,' he informed the pirate.
Jack rolled his eyes impatiently.
'Captain, it's Captain,' he muttered as the marines marched him back to the cells. And from the shadows, a small figure hurried away, down into the town, full of the importance of his news.
*~*~*
The tavern was noisy, white noise that blacked out any semblance of normal thought from a person's mind. Everywhere the eye could see, men drank, gambled and wenched to their heart's delight, enjoying the hospitality of one of Port Royale's less than savoury quarters. The tavern women scurried back and forth between tables, dodging groping hands and keeping tankards filled.
There was a roar from a particularly rowdy corner, a huge voice demanding of attention.
'Marin! Marin, me lovely, bring us some rum and a measure of yer fine company!'
The girl in question spared him one withering glance and turned her back on his drunken calls, sharing an irritated glance with her companion. Ann glanced over at the table, wincing as a brawl broke out in the usual violent fashion.
'You can't keep ignoring him forever, Mar,' she said quietly, refilling her pitcher from the barrels behind the bar. 'Sooner or later, he's going to come and get you.'
Marin sighed.
'I know, I know,' she said wearily. 'But I hate it when he does this.'
Ann smiled gently, moving to cover her friend's hand with her own.
'He just wants you to know how much he cares,' she told her. 'I know you don't believe me, but he does care for you, Marin, deeply. You're the daughter he wishes he could have had.'
A faint smile touched the younger woman's face. Just for one moment, her stormy grey eyes lost their guarded look and glowed with a fondness that lit up her delicate features.
'I know,' she murmured, feeling suddenly small and alone, but for the man in the corner calling for her company.
Captain Elias Fitzpatrick had never been the best of men, being the proud possessor of a reputation that included rape and murder, and yet he had shown her kindness when she had most needed it. When she was a child, barely two years of age, her mother had taken her on a voyage to the Caribbean. All she remembered of the tragedy that had befallen them was guns and flying debris, and finding herself all alone in the water, clinging desperately to a cabin door that had somehow escaped the destruction. The next thing she remembered was being taken from the water by gentle hands, and a soft voice telling her not to be afraid, that she was safe now.
Elias' men had seen the smoke and heard the cannon fire, and sailed straight to the site of the battle, too late to intervene on either side. The bo'sun had spied a child floating in the water, and they had lowered a boat to retrieve her. Since they had found no other survivors, the captain had taken the little girl for his own daughter. He had named her Marin, a name that meant 'from the sea', because that was where he had found her. Ever since, she had been under his protection, and despite all outward appearances, the two were very close.
Marin was not the prettiest girl you could wish to see, but she was striking, a fact that made all men look her over carefully before noticing her ever-present guardian. Her pale skin and rich copper hair caught the eye, and the slender frame held it. She was a true Celt, Elias had decided, and they had journeyed to Ireland when she was a child to try and find anyone who might know her. The trip had not been successful, and to a certain extent she was glad. Marin was a pirate now, or at least, a pirate's lass, and was well able to look after herself. Why would she want to change her life now?
She gave another sigh and gave in, walking through the crowds to join her protector with two bottles of rum. Elias gave her a gold-toothed grin, one that she returned with amusement as she sat beside him.
'Now, me lass,' the captain declared. 'We've not had the pleasure of yer company since we docked. What is it about Port Royal that tears ye away from yer own?'
Marin smiled.
'The thought that if I stayed with you, I'd have to get drunk just to be able to stand your company, cap'n,' she told him, inwardly pleased with the guffaw of laughter her answer produced.
'Fair enough, fair enough,' Elias chuckled, throwing back his head to swallow the contents of his goblet. 'But will ye be boarding with us when the time comes to leave? That's the real question.'
He watched as she pretended to ponder the question, looking somewhat concerned, even though he already knew the answer. They played this game every time they set into port. Marin would find work for the duration of their stay while the men got as drunk as possible, and she would keep them hanging as to her intentions when they would set off. But, invariably, the sea called to her and she would rejoin her surrogate family with a light heart when the time came.
'We'll have to see about that, cap'n,' Marin informed her friend. 'Depends on whether you have room for a woman on board.'
'We always have room!' Elias announced indignantly, slapping the table in amusement at her words.
He smiled at her, once again thanking his stars that he had chosen to fish her from the water when he could so easily have left the child to die. She was his one saving grace, he knew that, and as long as he had his Marin, the world was a brighter place.
'Now, lass, how about a song? I could never grow tired of hearing me lovely's voice.'
Marin rolled her eyes in comical resignation. She should have expected this. With a gentle sigh, she allowed herself to be hauled to her feet and set atop the table, waiting for the rhythmic beat provided by the crews around them.
'We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot, Drink up, me hearties, yo ho! We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot, Drink up, me hearties, yo ho . . .'
As others joined in, Elias was distracted by a small hand tugging at his coat sleeve. Turning, he noticed his cabin boy grinning up at him, looking as though he had news that could be interesting. Elias nodded once to Marin as she danced from table to table, and slipped out into the cool, but above all, quiet street.
'Now, Dugan, me boy, what have ye to tell me?' he asked of the young lad.
Dugan grinned despite himself, hoping he had gathered the information his captain wanted.
'Cap'n, you know you said if Jack Sparrow was in town, you would want tae have words wi' him,' he began excitedly, encouraged when Elias' gaze sharpened on hearing the familiar name. 'Well, they tried tae hang him agin this morn, and it didnae work, so they've set his next execution fer sunrise.'
Elias nodded slowly, waiting for the location of the infamous Jack Sparrow. Dugan echoed the nod, his young face flushed with excitement and importance.
'He's bin ta'en back tae the cells fer the night, cap'n, you know, the ones beneath the fort.'
'Aye, that I do, young Dugan,' Elias agreed, squeezing the boy's shoulder. 'And I suppose ye know the way in, do ye?'
The grin widened.
'In and oot, cap'n,' Dugan told him.
A slow satisfied smile passed across Elias Fitzpatrick's face. He knew now what it was he would do with his time in Port Royale.