Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean or Jack, although I wish I did. I don't own any of Johnny's films, actually (lines from a few will pop up here and there). I don't own Muppet Treasure Island either (don't ask). The only person I can take credit for is James. Came up with him myself. So don't sue me, savvy?
Carpe Diem
Wrapping a loaf of bread and an apple- his dinner- in a napkin and tucking that meal into his parcel, James Crow adjusted his wig and strut through the door. The walk to the jail cells was a short one, but, every time he traveled it, stretched on as though he were dragging a corpse down a mile of muddy streets.
It actually wasn't far from that, only reverse it. He, under the obligation of his status in the Royal British Navy, was being dragged to a corpse; a future corpse, at any rate.
When he finally reached the door that led to a small set of stairs, which brought him to the cells, he found the last shift waiting for him. James gave the man a slight nod.
"Got a strange one in there today." Russell explained. "Going to hang at dawn."
"Great" James mumbled. All he needed was a pirate desperately pleading for his life all night. He grudgingly opened the door and trudged down the stairs.
"Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirate's life fer me We pillage, we plunder, we rifle, we loot, drink up, me earties, yo-ho! We kidnap an' ravage an' don' give a oot, drink up, me earties, yo-ho! Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirate's life fer me!"
James entered a dreary dungeon, greeted by the key-bearing dog and one rather drunken-sounding in-mate. Taking a seat at a bench, he peered into the cell to see the scruffy prisoner lying on his back, hands drawn and folded on his stomach, tricorn cocked over his eyes.
He was clad in a dirty white shirt, worn black pants, leather vest, a red horizontal striped white sash, and a pair of large boots whose tops folded over to the ankles. His hair, from what he could see, was brought into many messy dreads, a few strands with beads and other trinkets threaded into them. Practically everything about him was tattered and grimy.
Leaning back against the wall and setting his parcel down next to him, James heaved a heavy sigh and shut his eyes.
"So, what're ye in fer, mate?"
Opening his eyes again, James glanced to the cells, finding the pirate hadn't stirred, but was grinning a cocky gold-toothed grin.
"Shouldn't I be asking you that question?" James lifted an eyebrow.
"Ah, but ye already know that," the pirate's grin widened, "so what'd be the point?"
The scum was right. James sighed.
"So what's yer name?"
James debated whether or not to answer him. Well, it couldn't hurt. "James Crow."
"Nice teh meet ye, Jim." The pirate lifted up a single hand in a lazy wave. The sleeve on his right arm slid down, revealing a branded P and the tattoo of a sparrow in flight.
"Jack Sparrow, eh?" James smirked slightly. "Haven't they tried to kill you before? What brings you back to the noose?"
"Bad luck, mate." Jack answered simply. He finally lifted up his hat and placed it atop his head, revealing a pair of warm brown kohl-lined eyes. "An' it's cap'n, if ye don' mind."
James chuckled slightly. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad night after all. "Where's your ship, captain?"
Jack shrugged. "She's off somewhere."
"Rather confident for your sentence, aren't we?"
"Ye think?"
Pulling his dinner from his parcel, James used his pocketknife to slice the apple in half.
"Spare a meal, Jim?"
James, by that time, was sitting with his mouth open and the half of the apple between his teeth. He glanced down to the other half of the apple in his hand, sighed, and tossed the apple through the bars to the pirate's waiting hands.
"Thank ye, lad!" Jack bit down on the apple and then, getting to his hands and knees, began to fumble with the stones to the far right side of the cell, under the bench.
What is he doing? James tried to behave as if he wasn't interested, despite his curiosity.
Jack pulled one stone lose and fumbled around the dirt underneath it. He pulled out two dusty bottles of rum. "I like ye, Jim! Ave a drink!"
"I don't drink." Jim answered simply.
Jack looked as if he had told him he didn't need to breathe. "Ye poor deprived lad. All the more reason teh start now!"
"No thank you."
"Come on, mate! Carpe diem! Seize the day!"
"I didn't know pirates spoke Latin."
"Ye just eard me entire Lat'n vocab'lary."
James chuckled and hesitantly took the bottle offered through the bars. "How old is this brand?"
Jack shrugged again. "Dunnow."
Brushing the dust from the label, James felt his jaw drop. "1492?! That's back when they still drank mead!"
"Then it's good!" Jack grinned and downed a swig.
James stared rather reluctantly at the bottle of brown alcohol in his hand.
"Come on, lad! Down the atch!"
Pulling out the cork with minor difficulty, James took a deep breath and swallowed a mouthful. The drink had a strong, sour taste that burned his throat the entire way down. James forced the alcohol down and then, feeling his eyes water, doubled over and coughed with all his might. When he finally managed to sit back up, James took a few long, deep breaths and grudgingly set the bottle as far away from him as possible.
Jack, meanwhile, grinned a gold-toothed smile and chuckled. "Ah, aye. Ev'ryone's first time be a little rough." He took another gulp of rum. "Shake it off, Jim."
Wolfing down his half of the apple, James found it slightly lessened the sour aftertaste, but not enough for his liking. He scrunched up his face and shook his head sharply, although it did nothing for the rotten taste on his tongue. After he finally recovered from that little encounter, James sighed heavily and was greeted by an abrupt silence.
Trying to find a subject to start a conversation on, James glanced to the left to see a spider scurry towards him.
There was a high-pitched scream, a crash of glass breaking, and a loud shuffling noise.
James looked back to the cell to see Jack standing on his tiptoes on top of the bench- which was at the opposite side of the cell-, shying as far away from the floor as possible, while at the same time looking regretfully at the pile of glass and spilled rum on the floor. Glancing back to the floor, James stared bewilderedly at the tiny arachnid still crawling towards the two men.
"It's just a spider." James cocked an eyebrow.
"Kill it! Kill it!" Jack stammered quickly. "No-no-no, stun it!"
James continued staring at the spider as it scurried past his left boot.
"Don't let it get me!" Jack stumbled to the very edge of the bench. "Jimmy-Jim, Jimmy-Jim, Jim-Jim-Jim!"
Lifting up his boot as the spider reached it, James bright it down sharply with a loud clomp. He cringed at the slight squish as he peeled his shoe from the floor.
Jack sighed heavily and hopped down from the bench. "Well done, lad! Ye deserve a shantey!" There was a pause as Jack mentally composed a tune His face brightened as he came up with something, and he sat down on the bench. "Hey-ho, we'll go anywhere the wind is blowing! Hoist the sails and sing!" A slight pause as he thought up the next stanza, "Sailing for adventure on the big-blue-wet-thing"
James lifted an eyebrow. "Big blue wet thing?"
"Well- it just felt right." Jack smiled sheepishly. Upon the odd look James gave him, he decided to elaborate. "Well, ye try to come up with a rhyme on the spot."
Wanting to prove that he could beat the pirate at his own shanty-composing game, he quickly came up with a tune and fitted words to it. "Shiver my timbers, shiver my bones. Yo-ho, heave-ho. There are secrets that sleep with old Davy Jones. Yo-ho, heave-ho." Since he was on a roll he decided to create a verse. "When the main sail's set and the anchor's weighed, there's no turning back from any course that's laid."
"And when greed and villains sail the sea," Jack joined in with his own half of the verse, "you can bet your boots they'll make history."
"Shiver my timbers, shiver my sails." The two men sang in unison, leaning forward as if challenging each other. "Dead-men-tell-no-tales!"
There came a loud bang that made both men jump.
"I've been shot!" Jack screamed. "Gah!" A loud thud followed as he fell to the floor, clutching his chest.
James glanced to the right to see three guards standing at the open door- it had been slammed open. His gaze when to the window, where the sun was rising over the coastline.
That's right. Jack was going to hang in only a manner of minutes now.
Upon the look he received from the one leading the group, James called the dog and took the keys from its collar. As he unlocked the cell, he noticed the slightly apprehensive look on Jack's face- he had gotten back onto his feet. "Sorry" he mumbled.
Jack, however, shrugged as two guards stepped forward and clapped him in irons. "Oh well. Now I must die." The two soldiers dragged him out.
Glancing around to find the other cells empty, an idea entered James' head. He approached the higher-ranking officer. "Sir, the cells are empty. Permission to follow the scum to his execution."
The soldier glanced to the empty cells. "Permission granted."
Picking up his parcel and slinging it over his shoulder, James grabbed his rifle and followed the dreary march towards the gallows. Thoughts flashing through his head, he suddenly realized that he had a job to do, and rank and status played no part in it. His grip tightened on his rifle as he sped up his pace to keep up with his fellows as they led the pirate towards his death. And then, in the blink of an eye, it happened.
Swinging the rifle with all his might, he smashed the man on Jack's right over the head with the butt, knocking the man unconscious. The soldier to Jack's left gave a startled, angered yell and lifted his rifle. James used the bayonet on his rifle to pin the man's rifle down, ramming it into the dirt, and then brought the butt up and into the soldier's forehead. He fell to the ground, unconscious, with a heavy thud.
Jack, the entire time, was standing completely still so as not to be hit, staring at him with a rather amusing bewildered look on his face.
But wait wasn't there three of them? James whirled just in time to see the third and final soldier fire his rifle. The round barely missed his face, but the shock of the shot sent him flying backwards as if he had been shot, legs flying out from underneath him. He fell flat onto his back with a large thud, sprawled across the ground as he recovered from the shock. It's a good thin most people are dead when they fall like that that HURT!
The man slowly walked into view and leaned over him as if he were checking to make sure he was dead. James, ignoring the pain, quickly grabbed the man's collar and, giving a sharp kick to the man's stomach, sent him flying over him and into the wall behind him. The soldier slid to the ground, out like a light.
Groaning ruefully, James got up stiffly and pulled the ring of keys from his pocket.
Jack chuckled as James released him from his irons. "I always liked ye, lad! Never doubted ye fer a second!"
There came a shout from further down the hall.
Jack grabbed James' shoulders and quickly dragged him into an intersecting corridor and pressed him against the wall and behind a barrel. When the commotion in the halls died down, Jack sighed heavily and patted James on the shoulder.
"So what're ye gonna do now, mate?"
James sighed pointedly, pulling his wig from his head and running his fingers through is shoulder-length red hair. "I don't know I can't go back. Norrington would hang me." With another sigh, he tossed the rather annoying wig into the dusty hallway.
Jack thought for a moment, grinning as an idea entered his mind. "Are ye much of a sailin' man, Jim?"