Disclaimer: see chapter 1
Author's note: Thanks for the nice cheery reviews, much appreciated.
----
It was Jack's first morning at sea. Still rubbing his bruised head, he made his way up the ladder and out on to deck.
There was a thin line of land still on the right-hand side of the ship, and Jack shaded his eyes to see. A shadow fell across the sunlit deck beside him, and he looked up to see Captain Flint grinning a gilded grin in his direction.
"Taking your last look at England, Jack?"
"Aye, sir."
"We'll be out of the Channel by midday," the captain said. "And then it's open water all the way. D'ye get sea-sick?"
"I don't reckon so," Jack said thoughtfully. "Few times I've been on the sea, I've been fine."
"Good lad," Captain Flint said. "Now, I'll pass you over to me second mate, here, and he'll start teaching you what you need to know. You're in his watch."
Jack nodded, but he was thinking of something the captain had just said. "All the way to where, cap'n?"
Flint laughed, long and loud and cheerful. "Why, to the Caribbean, young Sparrow. The West Indies."
"The New World," Jack breathed.
"Warm weather, and blue seas," the captain said. "You'll like it. Thornton!"
The second mate came over to them. "Aye, cap'n?"
"Take our new lad under your wing, Thornton - show him what to do, give him some jobs."
"Glad to, cap'n," Thornton said. Jack thanked the captain, and followed the second mate across the ship. "Sparrow, isn't it?" Thornton asked.
Jack looked up at the man, a burly, bronzed sailor in blue and white stripes, and nodded.
"Right, then," the mate continued. "There's a deal of work to be done aboard a vessel this size, but you cannot do it all at once. We'll have you up the rigging afore the year's out, but for now, can you mop the decks for me?"
He gave Jack the mop, and gestured at a bucket. "When t'bucket's mucky, tip it over the side and fill it up again. Cap'n Flint likes his decks shiny."
"Shiny. Right," said Jack, rolling up his sleeves.
Thornton nodded. "Off you go, then, lad."
From that moment on, Jack felt he was busy every moment of every day. He spent hours just cleaning the Pearl - mopping her decks, coiling ropes, caulking and tarring cracks, mending sails and nets. When he wasn't cleaning, tidying or mending, he was being taught how to sail. He hauled on ropes, and learnt that they were called "sheets"; he climbed the rigging, metre by metre until he could get to the top of the mainmast without feeling dizzy; he learnt what a bell was and when it rang. When he was not needed for some duty, he sat in a corner and tied bits of string together, learning seamen's knots. And he got to know the crew.
He learnt that Captain Flint was a hard taskmaster, but a kindly man who looked after his men and did not give unfair punishment. The first mate, an Italian called Roberto, spoke awful English but could steer the ship nearly as well as the captain.
Thornton, the second mate and Jack's teacher, was a gruff Yorkshireman who had begun his life sailing fishing boats and collier brigs out of Whitby. At some point he had found his way south and on to the Black Pearl, and, as he himself put it, had never looked back.
The rest of the men were an assorted bunch of sailors by birth and sailors by accident, all with years of experience under their ragged belts. Jack found he got on best with Bootstrap Bill Turner, who always spared a kindly word for the boy, but none of the men were unfriendly.
However nobody really spoke about the business of the ship, and though Jack thought he could guess, his guesses went unconfirmed until they were three weeks from England.
He was halfway up the foremast, being taught how to reef a sail, when the lookout shouted down from the crow's nest.
"Sail HO!"
Captain Flint pulled out a battered telescope and peered through it, before tipping his head back and calling: "What sort of sail?"
"Merchant. Spanish!" came the cry.
"Put out the Ensign!" Flint shouted, and someone ran to pull out a flag from a locker. Soon it was flying from the stern, the colours of His Majesty's Navy blowing proudly in the wind. Jack climbed down from his perch, as some of the men disappeared below and re-emerged tying sashes around their waists, knife and sword hilts sticking out ready for use.
Jack felt a wave of excitement course through his body. Bill Turner came up to him, grinning.
"Have you got a knife, Jack?"
"No."
Bootstrap handed him a small but razor-sharp knife. "Take this. Better safe than sorry, eh?"
Thornton hurried to them. "Bootstrap, get to your position. Jack, lad, can you coil the grappling irons and get them ready for use?"
"Aye, sir," Jack said, his heart beating even faster.
He settled to coiling the ropes attached to the sharp grappling irons, every now and then looking up. He could see they were gaining on the merchant vessel ahead of them, the Pearl carving through the water. Several times her crew had boasted to him that she was one of the fastest ships afloat, and for the first time Jack believed them.
Captain Flint was at the helm, guiding his ship with the lightest of touches so that her sails were filled with all the wind there was. Only a few of the crew were moving, standing by the sheets in case of an order from their captain. The rest of the men had gathered on deck, silent. Jack coiled his last rope and went to join them.
Thornton laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Now, you stay aboard the Pearl, right? No heroics now, there'll be more than enough time for that when you're older." He handed Jack a spar. "But take this, lad, should anyone try to board us - whack him over the head. That'll stop any man. Right?"
"Right." Jack nodded, gripping his spar. Thornton smiled, briefly.
"You'll be right, Jack."
Jack found a spot for himself out of the way, the heavy spar resting on the deck. They were within hailing distance of the merchant vessel now, and he could read her name, picking out the letters slowly. "S ... A ... N ... T ... A," he read to himself. "C ... L ... A ... R ... A. Santa Clara."
As the bow of the Black Pearl came to overlap the stern of the Santa Clara, Flint called an order from the helm, and one of the men raced to the stern and the Ensign came rippling down. In moments it was replaced. Jack found himself grinning nervously as the black flag spread in the wind, grinning like the skull emblazoned on it.
"Piratas!" someone cried from aboard the merchant vessel.
"Grappling irons!" the first mate Roberto called, and the Pearl's men each took one of Jack's ropes, even as the ship swung in close to the merchant vessel. Jack saw that aboard the other ship chaos reigned, with men hurrying around, all shouting different things in Spanish. "Now, gentlemen!" Roberto ordered, and with shouts and cheers the grappling irons were thrown, catching on the side of the merchant ship. The men of the Pearl swung themselves across the gap. Someone screamed, and a shot rang out, smoke puffing into the air.
There were more shouts, the clash of steel, and Jack saw with a horrified thrill one of the merchant sailors fall, a bloom of red on his shirt.
Roberto started calling orders, and soon the crew of the other vessel were gathered in a silent, sullen group, guarded by five of the pirates with swords and a couple of pistols. The rest of the Black Pearl's men had split up and seemed to be searching the ship, and soon reappeared, their arms full of loot.
"Jack!" Bill Turner was waving from the other deck. "Catch this, can you?" He lobbed a small sack across to Jack, who caught it and set it aside. Soon he was darting from side to side, catching the loot that could be thrown. The pile on the deck of the Pearl grew, and shortly some of the pirates came back to their ship to field the heavier items. In less than half an hour the grappling irons were released, and the men of the Black Pearl waved cheerfully at the Spaniards as they glared helplessly, bound quickly with ropes. Soon the merchant ship was a small shape on the horizon, and Captain Flint was examining the gains.
Jack stood and watched as the men counted coins and sorted the rest of the booty into piles - food, drink, textiles, and precious stones and jewellery. Each of them chose something small from the pile, tucking it away into a pocket.
"You too, lad," Captain Flint invited, glancing over at Jack.
"But I didn't do anything," Jack said.
"You've worked hard these past weeks," the captain returned. "Learned well. Come on, young Sparrow - some coins, something you can put aside for when you're older."
Jack came over to the pile of loot, and picked through it for a few moments. Finally he held a few silver pieces in his hand, and a silver necklace. Flint nodded his approval, and threw him a length of red fabric as well.
"Use it as a belt, or for your head," he suggested. Jack ran it through his fingers, grinned, and tied it around his hair.
Bootstrap came up behind him and straightened the scarf out. "Suits you, Jack. So what did you think of your first raid?"
Jack put his coins in his pocket. "When's the next one?"
Flint threw his head back and laughed. "Aye, I knew we'd make a pirate of ye yet!"
The crew joined in the laughter, and Jack did too. As he began to help the men carry the booty down to the hold, he thought to himself that he would not only be a pirate, but a good pirate. In fact, not only a good pirate, but a pirate captain - Captain Jack Sparrow. He would have a ship like the Black Pearl, and all would fear him.
----
TBC.
Author's note: Thanks for the nice cheery reviews, much appreciated.
----
It was Jack's first morning at sea. Still rubbing his bruised head, he made his way up the ladder and out on to deck.
There was a thin line of land still on the right-hand side of the ship, and Jack shaded his eyes to see. A shadow fell across the sunlit deck beside him, and he looked up to see Captain Flint grinning a gilded grin in his direction.
"Taking your last look at England, Jack?"
"Aye, sir."
"We'll be out of the Channel by midday," the captain said. "And then it's open water all the way. D'ye get sea-sick?"
"I don't reckon so," Jack said thoughtfully. "Few times I've been on the sea, I've been fine."
"Good lad," Captain Flint said. "Now, I'll pass you over to me second mate, here, and he'll start teaching you what you need to know. You're in his watch."
Jack nodded, but he was thinking of something the captain had just said. "All the way to where, cap'n?"
Flint laughed, long and loud and cheerful. "Why, to the Caribbean, young Sparrow. The West Indies."
"The New World," Jack breathed.
"Warm weather, and blue seas," the captain said. "You'll like it. Thornton!"
The second mate came over to them. "Aye, cap'n?"
"Take our new lad under your wing, Thornton - show him what to do, give him some jobs."
"Glad to, cap'n," Thornton said. Jack thanked the captain, and followed the second mate across the ship. "Sparrow, isn't it?" Thornton asked.
Jack looked up at the man, a burly, bronzed sailor in blue and white stripes, and nodded.
"Right, then," the mate continued. "There's a deal of work to be done aboard a vessel this size, but you cannot do it all at once. We'll have you up the rigging afore the year's out, but for now, can you mop the decks for me?"
He gave Jack the mop, and gestured at a bucket. "When t'bucket's mucky, tip it over the side and fill it up again. Cap'n Flint likes his decks shiny."
"Shiny. Right," said Jack, rolling up his sleeves.
Thornton nodded. "Off you go, then, lad."
From that moment on, Jack felt he was busy every moment of every day. He spent hours just cleaning the Pearl - mopping her decks, coiling ropes, caulking and tarring cracks, mending sails and nets. When he wasn't cleaning, tidying or mending, he was being taught how to sail. He hauled on ropes, and learnt that they were called "sheets"; he climbed the rigging, metre by metre until he could get to the top of the mainmast without feeling dizzy; he learnt what a bell was and when it rang. When he was not needed for some duty, he sat in a corner and tied bits of string together, learning seamen's knots. And he got to know the crew.
He learnt that Captain Flint was a hard taskmaster, but a kindly man who looked after his men and did not give unfair punishment. The first mate, an Italian called Roberto, spoke awful English but could steer the ship nearly as well as the captain.
Thornton, the second mate and Jack's teacher, was a gruff Yorkshireman who had begun his life sailing fishing boats and collier brigs out of Whitby. At some point he had found his way south and on to the Black Pearl, and, as he himself put it, had never looked back.
The rest of the men were an assorted bunch of sailors by birth and sailors by accident, all with years of experience under their ragged belts. Jack found he got on best with Bootstrap Bill Turner, who always spared a kindly word for the boy, but none of the men were unfriendly.
However nobody really spoke about the business of the ship, and though Jack thought he could guess, his guesses went unconfirmed until they were three weeks from England.
He was halfway up the foremast, being taught how to reef a sail, when the lookout shouted down from the crow's nest.
"Sail HO!"
Captain Flint pulled out a battered telescope and peered through it, before tipping his head back and calling: "What sort of sail?"
"Merchant. Spanish!" came the cry.
"Put out the Ensign!" Flint shouted, and someone ran to pull out a flag from a locker. Soon it was flying from the stern, the colours of His Majesty's Navy blowing proudly in the wind. Jack climbed down from his perch, as some of the men disappeared below and re-emerged tying sashes around their waists, knife and sword hilts sticking out ready for use.
Jack felt a wave of excitement course through his body. Bill Turner came up to him, grinning.
"Have you got a knife, Jack?"
"No."
Bootstrap handed him a small but razor-sharp knife. "Take this. Better safe than sorry, eh?"
Thornton hurried to them. "Bootstrap, get to your position. Jack, lad, can you coil the grappling irons and get them ready for use?"
"Aye, sir," Jack said, his heart beating even faster.
He settled to coiling the ropes attached to the sharp grappling irons, every now and then looking up. He could see they were gaining on the merchant vessel ahead of them, the Pearl carving through the water. Several times her crew had boasted to him that she was one of the fastest ships afloat, and for the first time Jack believed them.
Captain Flint was at the helm, guiding his ship with the lightest of touches so that her sails were filled with all the wind there was. Only a few of the crew were moving, standing by the sheets in case of an order from their captain. The rest of the men had gathered on deck, silent. Jack coiled his last rope and went to join them.
Thornton laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Now, you stay aboard the Pearl, right? No heroics now, there'll be more than enough time for that when you're older." He handed Jack a spar. "But take this, lad, should anyone try to board us - whack him over the head. That'll stop any man. Right?"
"Right." Jack nodded, gripping his spar. Thornton smiled, briefly.
"You'll be right, Jack."
Jack found a spot for himself out of the way, the heavy spar resting on the deck. They were within hailing distance of the merchant vessel now, and he could read her name, picking out the letters slowly. "S ... A ... N ... T ... A," he read to himself. "C ... L ... A ... R ... A. Santa Clara."
As the bow of the Black Pearl came to overlap the stern of the Santa Clara, Flint called an order from the helm, and one of the men raced to the stern and the Ensign came rippling down. In moments it was replaced. Jack found himself grinning nervously as the black flag spread in the wind, grinning like the skull emblazoned on it.
"Piratas!" someone cried from aboard the merchant vessel.
"Grappling irons!" the first mate Roberto called, and the Pearl's men each took one of Jack's ropes, even as the ship swung in close to the merchant vessel. Jack saw that aboard the other ship chaos reigned, with men hurrying around, all shouting different things in Spanish. "Now, gentlemen!" Roberto ordered, and with shouts and cheers the grappling irons were thrown, catching on the side of the merchant ship. The men of the Pearl swung themselves across the gap. Someone screamed, and a shot rang out, smoke puffing into the air.
There were more shouts, the clash of steel, and Jack saw with a horrified thrill one of the merchant sailors fall, a bloom of red on his shirt.
Roberto started calling orders, and soon the crew of the other vessel were gathered in a silent, sullen group, guarded by five of the pirates with swords and a couple of pistols. The rest of the Black Pearl's men had split up and seemed to be searching the ship, and soon reappeared, their arms full of loot.
"Jack!" Bill Turner was waving from the other deck. "Catch this, can you?" He lobbed a small sack across to Jack, who caught it and set it aside. Soon he was darting from side to side, catching the loot that could be thrown. The pile on the deck of the Pearl grew, and shortly some of the pirates came back to their ship to field the heavier items. In less than half an hour the grappling irons were released, and the men of the Black Pearl waved cheerfully at the Spaniards as they glared helplessly, bound quickly with ropes. Soon the merchant ship was a small shape on the horizon, and Captain Flint was examining the gains.
Jack stood and watched as the men counted coins and sorted the rest of the booty into piles - food, drink, textiles, and precious stones and jewellery. Each of them chose something small from the pile, tucking it away into a pocket.
"You too, lad," Captain Flint invited, glancing over at Jack.
"But I didn't do anything," Jack said.
"You've worked hard these past weeks," the captain returned. "Learned well. Come on, young Sparrow - some coins, something you can put aside for when you're older."
Jack came over to the pile of loot, and picked through it for a few moments. Finally he held a few silver pieces in his hand, and a silver necklace. Flint nodded his approval, and threw him a length of red fabric as well.
"Use it as a belt, or for your head," he suggested. Jack ran it through his fingers, grinned, and tied it around his hair.
Bootstrap came up behind him and straightened the scarf out. "Suits you, Jack. So what did you think of your first raid?"
Jack put his coins in his pocket. "When's the next one?"
Flint threw his head back and laughed. "Aye, I knew we'd make a pirate of ye yet!"
The crew joined in the laughter, and Jack did too. As he began to help the men carry the booty down to the hold, he thought to himself that he would not only be a pirate, but a good pirate. In fact, not only a good pirate, but a pirate captain - Captain Jack Sparrow. He would have a ship like the Black Pearl, and all would fear him.
----
TBC.