Chapter the Third: Aboard the El Pizza

Captain Jack Sparrow lounged miserably in the dark, dingy cell. The only light came from a crack in the bulkhead, and even that was barely enough to illuminate the small space.

"Bloody Spaniards," he muttered and kicked the bulkhead. Gently, though - the wooden boards looked like they would give in at any moment.
The blasted soldiers hadn't even given him a chance to explain once their boat caught up with his. They'd just babbled in Spanish and knocked him out after they found out he didn't speak the language. Now, he found himself in this cell that would probably get minus one piratical points for captive accommodations on Jack's personal scale.

He rubbed his aching head and frowned. They'd taken his hat, along with his compass, cutlass, and gun. He felt strangely naked without all of his effects. Especially his hat. Jack's hat was a part of him, as much as his arm or leg.

Jack slumped against the wall and tapped his fingers against the rotting bulkhead. "You Spaniards don't take very good care of your ships, do you?" he said, addressing the guard sitting on a stool outside the cell. The dark-haired man glared at him, and Jack shrugged. "Just saying..."

He glanced warily from side to side and stood, pressing his face between two bars. "Mate," he said to the Spaniard, "What would you say to..." he did a quick mental arithmetic, "Ten gold coins, if you let me out of here?"

The guard stared at him blankly. Jack sighed and reached inside his coat, grinning as the guard stiffened. He brought out a handful of gold coins instead of some hidden secret weapon, and the guard blinked, staring.

"All I ask is you go to sleep for a few hours, savvy?" Jack whispered.

The man spat at him and said a few choice words that, although in Spanish, Jack caught the meaning of. He scowled and tucked the gold away. "Have it your way, mate," he said.

After awhile he grew bored and started to pace about. Unfortunately, it was only two steps between the bulkheads.

One, two, turn. One, two, turn. One, two, turn.

He did this until the guard swore at him. Jack stuck his tongue out after the guard had turned his back, and leaned against the bulkhead.

He made to tilt his had over his eyes, but his hat was gone. He swore under his breath and glared at the guard. "Can I have my hat, at least?" he asked, but the man ignored him. "Fine. Have it your way."

Jack fell asleep eventually, or dozed. He wasn't sure which. When he woke up from his 'nap', it was dark. He pressed his face to the hole in the bulkhead and could see nothing.

There was a cough behind him. Jack whirled to see a man, dressed in a very uncomfortable-looking Spanish uniform, looking at him. He held an oil lamp that threw into sharp relief his pockmarked, severe face.

"You are a pirate?" the man asked in flawless, but heavily-accented English. Jack was surprised for a moment but found his voice and usual cocky swagger within seconds.

"Aye, that's me. Pirate all the way. Very piratey, me."

"My men tell me that they found you, in a boat, sailing towards us," the man continued flatly. "They say you shot at them with your pistol."

"Aye, I did, but they shot at me first!" Jack protested. "Self-defence, it was." He stared a moment at the man, who raised his eyebrows. "Hang on a minute, *your* men? Who exactly are you, mate?"

"I am Captain Jose Ortiz, and you are on my ship, El Español Se Levantó," Captain Ortiz said.

"El Espan...right, that's a bit of a mouthful," said Jack. "Well, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow and my ship, the Black Pearl, will be coming after YOUR ship, the El Pizza or whatever it is, if you don't let me go. Savvy?"

Captain Ortiz stared at him steadily. "The Black Pearl?" he asked, after a moment.
"Aye, the Black Pearl," said Jack gravely. "Now, what say you to my...proposal? You're running out of time, mate. I'll eat me hat if the Pearl isn't right behind us at this very moment."

"There's no need to resort to threats, Mr. Sparrow," said Captain Ortiz. "I regret to inform you that your ship is nowhere in sight."

Jack swore under his breath. "What ever happened to guidelines, eh? Just guidelines," he muttered, and then turned a dazzling golden smile on Ortiz. "Well, Captain Ortiz," he said, as politely as he could manage. "It seems we're in a bit o' a pickle, here."
"No, Mr. Sparrow, *you* are in the pickle," said Captain Ortiz. "I don't know how your country deals with pirates, but mine kills them."

"Pirates? Who mentioned pirates?" Jack frowned and looked around. "I don't see any pirates."

Captain Ortiz gave him a cool look. "Our attempt to retake Tortuga has failed," he said, "But it seems we will not return home empty handed." He turned and walked up the rickety steps, pausing to speak softly to the guard before disappearing out of sight.

Jack kicked the wall and clutched at his toe, eliciting a stern glance from the guard. He muttered a curse and flumped back against the wall like a limp rag doll, wondering how the hell he was going to get out of here.

"Well, you ARE Captain Jack Sparrow," he told himself, but that didn't seem to help. He had no brilliant flash of inspiration, nor a sudden deus ex machina like a decent lockpick.

He stuck his fingers into the split in the bulkhead and wondered if he could make the hole big enough, and then quickly decided against it. He would drown before he had a chance to scramble out and escape.

Jack turned and eyed the guard, who was looking at him steadily in the light of the oil lamp. "Don't suppose you might reconsider that bribe?" he said, hopefully.

The guard ignored him. Jack slid onto the damp floor and stretched his legs out in front of him, his foot hitting one of the iron bars of his cell. The bar shifted forwards a few inches. Jack glanced at the guard to see he was watching the wall boredly and grinned.

He crawled forward and tested the bar. It came loose and the only thing preventing it from falling noisily to the deck was Jack's grip on it. He stood slowly and carefully leaned the bar against the wall, silently slipping through the gap.

The guard didn't see Jack creep up behind him, or have time to cry out as he was grabbed by the neck and slammed into the wall. The portly Spanish man slid to the deck, unconscious. Jack pinched his uniform as an afterthought.

It didn't occur to him that he looked rather odd with a Spanish uniform-coat on over his pirate garb.

He found his effects tucked away in a locker near where the guard had been stationed. He put on his hat and strapped on his sword and compass, shoving his gun into his belt. He skipped stealthily up the stairs and pushed the hatch open, emerging onto the moonlit deck. He hid quickly behind a pile of rope, barrels and other shippy things he couldn't recognize in the dim light as Captain Ortiz and who presumably was his Lieutenant walked by, talking Spanish in low voices.

He stood when they were out of sight and peered out over the starboard rail. They were sailing past a small, tropical-looking island. Jack couldn't see any cities or towns, and without a map and the bearings on where he was, he couldn't tell if it was populated or not.

The Pearl will come looking for me, Jack reassured himself. They'll find me. I'll make a signal or something.

Jack took off his hat and flattened it, shoving it securely into his belt. He clambered up onto the rail and just as he was about to jump, heard someone shout behind him.

He didn't waste time. As guns began to fire at him, he fell, rather clumsily, off the rail. He hit the surface on his back, the salty water rushing into his ear and blocking out the crack of bullets.

He dived deeper into the water and swam until his lungs burned and he felt that he was far enough from the boat to resurface. Jack Sparrow dragged air greedily into his lungs as he broke the water, and looked around with stinging eyes.

The shore was close, and as he turned in the water, he saw no pursuing rowboat. He grinned to himself, imagining Ortiz's face.

"You'll always remember this as the day," he shouted at the retreating ship, "That you almost caught Captain Jack Sparrow!"