Disclaimer: see chapter 1
Author's note: I upped the rating on this to PG-13, owing to the fact I wanted to deal with some "coming of age" issues. I've sketched round them pretty much, but better safe than sorry, eh? As ever, comments appreciated. Thank you, and enjoy!
----
"I'd like to propose a toast!" Bootstrap called, raising his tankard high. "To our cabin boy." He grinned at Jack. "Happy Birthday, lad."
The Pearl's crew echoed the toast, and raised their own tankards.
Jack lifted his own drink. "Thank you all!" he called.
"Is that it?" Thornton asked with a grin. "You're not usually so quiet, lad."
Getting to his feet, Jack sprang up on the tabletop with slightly less than his normal agility. He doffed his hat - a present from the Pearl's crew, bought new rather than taken, and made of stiff black leather - and bowed to the assembled men.
"Thank you, all!" he repeated. "It is an honour - nay, a delightful honour - to be with you all, here, tonight, in this haven of Tortuga. Indeed I'd not be anywhere else. When I joined the Pearl five years past, I hardly thought I'd find such excellent men." He paused. "Actually I was a little scared of you all." He raised his tankard. "A toast, gentlemen, to the Black Pearl and the freedom she brings us!"
"We'll drink to that!" someone shouted, and there were cheers and whistles. Jack sat down with a bump.
"I'm sure you've laced this rum with something," he told Bootstrap Bill Turner, seriously.
"Only more rum," Bill said. "Anyways, you should be able to take your drink now as you're sixteen, and a proper pirate with a hat and all."
"Me own father wouldn't recognise me," Jack said, and he was right.
The Black Pearl had spent the last five years sailing out of Tortuga and other Caribbean ports. Her reputation had grown, and merchant ships seeing her trademark black sails would turn tail and run rather than face a fight. They had liberated one small naval frigate of some rather good cannon, and since then Captain Flint had been ever more daring in his attacks. They had lost eight men to injuries sustained "in the course of thievery" as the captain put it, and several more had left the ship for other reasons - either to sail back to England, or to settle with a woman in the West Indies. But the Pearl never found it hard to find replacements, such was her standing amongst the pirates of the Caribbean.
Jack Sparrow, meanwhile, had grown from a boy to a young man. He had never filled out much, but had got lean and brown from years at sea. It was acknowledged by the rest of the crew that their cabin boy was by far the best of them at shimmying up the rigging. Continued sword lessons meant that Jack was also coming to be someone to be feared in a fight.
Maybe because he was the youngest of the crew, Jack had developed a quick wit and a quicker tongue. He would answer any jest, joke with the captain, and had already talked his way out of several sticky situations. He added to his singular nature by growing his hair longer than most, and had braided a couple of coloured glass beads into it. But he was well liked by the other men, and had developed a real friendship with Bill Turner.
They had docked in Tortuga two nights before Jack's birthday. The Black Pearl had a rip in her mainsail from a altercation with a Dutch vessel that needed mending, and Captain Flint wanted to take some of the loot off the ship to be hidden away for future needs. The crew spent most of the time ashore, drinking and finding women, and the revelries to celebrate Jack's sixteenth were merely the culmination of their leave.
"More rum!" Bootstrap called.
"I'm not sure I can drink any more," Jack said, his voice slightly slurred. "Not that it's not an uncommonly nice drink."
"It's a great drink," Bill said. He hesitated. "Jack, I'm going back to old England."
Jack sat straight up and peered at his friend from under the brim of his hat. "When? Why?"
Bill sighed, and cupped his hands around his tankard. "It's been a long time, is all. And last time we were there, I met this lass - I don't suppose she'll remember me, but I'd like to find out."
"There are women here too," Jack said. "Pretty girls." He smiled up at the barmaid who had brought them another bottle of rum along with several foamy mugs of ale. "Like this one. My friend here wants to meet a lass, sweetheart!"
She raised her eyebrows, shook her head and turned away.
Bill smiled. "This girl's special, Jack. Beautiful, she is. I've got to know if I stand a chance with her, you see? Anyway, I've got passage on the Lucille, and she sails tomorrow."
"What did the cap'n say?" Jack asked, peering at Bill with bleary eyes.
"Oh, you know Flint," Bootstrap returned. "Didn't say much. Gave me me share of the profits, bade me good luck."
"I'll miss you," Jack admitted, examining his drink.
"Ah, you'll be all right," Bill said. "You're Jack Sparrow, savvy?"
Jack found himself laughing. He hit Bootstrap with his hat. "That, William Turner, is my line."
"That hat's to be worn, not used as a weapon," Bill retorted.
"I've got better news for ye, too."
Jack looked round, to see the Pearl's current second mate, an Irishman named Liam O'Connell, grinning at him. "Aye, and what's that, Mr O'Connell?" he asked.
"Cap'n's found a new cabin boy. You get to be one o' the reg'lar crew, now, Sparrow. Taking over from Bootstrap's tasks." O'Connell leaned in. "And more share o' the booty, too."
"So my going's a good thing for you, Jack," Bill added.
Touching his tankard to Bootstrap's, Jack smiled his usual carefree smile, and the party went on.
They carried on drinking well into the early morning, and eventually the innkeeper turfed all the men out of the tavern. Jack wobbled uncertainly along the street, singing a shanty softly to himself, and examining anyone who passed him with bleary-eyed interest.
"Lookin' for a companion for the night, mister?" The girl appeared from an alleyway, expanses of white skin bulging from a tight bodice, and Jack peered in fascination at her.
"Maybe. Possibly." He frowned. "Am I?"
She laughed, and took his arm.
Jack woke the next morning sprawled over an unfamiliar bed, in a strange room, and it took him a moment to remember where he was and what he had been doing. When he did, he sat up, and realised that was a mistake. His head spinning, he lay down again with a groan.
"Mornin', love." The girl from the night before popped her head around a screen. "Thought you'd never wake up."
Jack waved his hand at her, and did not try to speak.
"Mebbe you haven't, yet," she commented, disappearing again. There were splashing noises, and Jack surmised that she must be washing before the new day.
He tried sitting up again, more slowly, and discovered that his head was a little steadier. He also realised that his clothes were neatly draped over a chair, with his red headscarf, belt and dagger on the top of the pile.
"Hat?" he said to himself.
"Eh?" The girl poked her head around the screen once more.
"Hat," Jack repeated. "I had a hat. Nice hat."
"Hangin' on the back of the door, love," she said, emerging from behind the screen wearing a thin cotton robe. "The water's still warm, if you want a bath."
Jack nodded. "Thanks, I will." Making his way carefully round the screen, he found a tub full of water and some rough soap. He slid into the tub and closed his eyes again, hoping that his head would stop throbbing.
Footsteps told him that the girl had come back to him, and in a moment he felt hands rubbing soap through his hair. "Be careful of the beads," he said, eyes still closed.
"If it weren't for last night, I'd swear you were more woman than man," the girl said. "Long hair, and pretty beads an' all."
"Pirate, love," Jack said lazily, soothed by the fingers massaging his scalp.
"Mad pirate, then," she returned, and poured a jugful of water over his head.
He luxuriated in the lukewarm water for a while, until it got too cold, and then he climbed out and put his clothes back on. The girl looked disappointed.
"Got to go, sweetheart," Jack said. "The Pearl'll be waiting, and I've a friend to say goodbye to. I'll look you up next time we're in Tortuga."
"Ah, ye all say that," she said, and threw him his hat. He blew her a kiss, and strolled out of the door.
Bootstrap was talking to the captain when Jack got back to the ship, his bundle on the deck by his side. As Jack came aboard, Flint shook Bill's hand, and turned away to speak to another of the crew.
Jack stuck his hands in his sash. "You're off, then?" he said.
"Got a ship to catch," Bill agreed. He swung his bundle on his shoulder.
The two men looked at each other, Jack fidgeting from foot to foot. Finally, he nodded. "Well, hurry up, then - you'll miss your tide."
"I'll look for you, when I'm back in the Caribbean," Bill said. "Likewise, ask for me if you're ever in Portsmouth. I hope to see you master of your own ship by then, Jack. I know ye'll do it."
"Good luck with the lass," Jack said. He hesitated, and then stepped forward and gave Bootstrap a hug.
Bill was momentarily taken aback, but after a second's pause he returned the embrace. "Good luck for you, too, lad."
Jack watched as his friend went down the gangplank, on to the dock and across the harbour to a small, speedy-looking brig. Bill did not look back.
Sighing, Jack turned and made for the hatch, to leave his hat and other belongings with his hammock, but he was stopped by the captain.
"Hear you had a lively time last night, Sparrow."
"It was that, captain," Jack said. Flint regarded him, and shook his head, before shrugging and continuing.
"O'Connell told me he told you 'bout the new cabin boy. I'll up your share of the loot, when we get some, but you look after him, right?"
"I'll treat him as well as I'd treat meself, sir," Jack said.
"Good lad. He's below decks, sorting his stuff out. Go and find him, then both of you back on deck. We sail in an hour."
"Where to?" Jack asked.
"East," said Flint.
Jack sketched the captain a bow, and hurried below decks to find the new cabin boy.
He was folding a blanket on the end of his hammock, a skinny lad with dark skin and black hair. Jack flung his hat into his own hammock, and crossed to the boy.
"Mornin'," he said.
"It's afternoon." The boy spoke with a tight, controlled voice and a Creole accent.
Jack shrugged. "So 'tis. Afternoon, then. I hear you're taking my job from me."
The boy looked up, and Jack caught the sight of big brown eyes under a floppy hat. "Oh? Who are you?"
"I'm Jack Sparrow, savvy? Ex-cabin boy of the Black Pearl. Cap'n's charged me with looking after you - you've got a name?"
"An ... André," the cabin boy said. "De Haïti."
"Well, then, André of Haïti," Jack said, "we've work to do. We're sailing shortly. You're coming?"
"I am aboard," André said, "so yes, I am coming." He stood up.
Jack nodded. "Good. Well, then, André - welcome to the Black Pearl."
----
TBC: he's got the scarf. He's got the long hair. He's got the beads (well, some of them). He's got the hat. Naught remains to be obtained but those lovely dark-rimmed eyes - and in Chapter 6, we'll find out how he gets them.
Author's note: I upped the rating on this to PG-13, owing to the fact I wanted to deal with some "coming of age" issues. I've sketched round them pretty much, but better safe than sorry, eh? As ever, comments appreciated. Thank you, and enjoy!
----
"I'd like to propose a toast!" Bootstrap called, raising his tankard high. "To our cabin boy." He grinned at Jack. "Happy Birthday, lad."
The Pearl's crew echoed the toast, and raised their own tankards.
Jack lifted his own drink. "Thank you all!" he called.
"Is that it?" Thornton asked with a grin. "You're not usually so quiet, lad."
Getting to his feet, Jack sprang up on the tabletop with slightly less than his normal agility. He doffed his hat - a present from the Pearl's crew, bought new rather than taken, and made of stiff black leather - and bowed to the assembled men.
"Thank you, all!" he repeated. "It is an honour - nay, a delightful honour - to be with you all, here, tonight, in this haven of Tortuga. Indeed I'd not be anywhere else. When I joined the Pearl five years past, I hardly thought I'd find such excellent men." He paused. "Actually I was a little scared of you all." He raised his tankard. "A toast, gentlemen, to the Black Pearl and the freedom she brings us!"
"We'll drink to that!" someone shouted, and there were cheers and whistles. Jack sat down with a bump.
"I'm sure you've laced this rum with something," he told Bootstrap Bill Turner, seriously.
"Only more rum," Bill said. "Anyways, you should be able to take your drink now as you're sixteen, and a proper pirate with a hat and all."
"Me own father wouldn't recognise me," Jack said, and he was right.
The Black Pearl had spent the last five years sailing out of Tortuga and other Caribbean ports. Her reputation had grown, and merchant ships seeing her trademark black sails would turn tail and run rather than face a fight. They had liberated one small naval frigate of some rather good cannon, and since then Captain Flint had been ever more daring in his attacks. They had lost eight men to injuries sustained "in the course of thievery" as the captain put it, and several more had left the ship for other reasons - either to sail back to England, or to settle with a woman in the West Indies. But the Pearl never found it hard to find replacements, such was her standing amongst the pirates of the Caribbean.
Jack Sparrow, meanwhile, had grown from a boy to a young man. He had never filled out much, but had got lean and brown from years at sea. It was acknowledged by the rest of the crew that their cabin boy was by far the best of them at shimmying up the rigging. Continued sword lessons meant that Jack was also coming to be someone to be feared in a fight.
Maybe because he was the youngest of the crew, Jack had developed a quick wit and a quicker tongue. He would answer any jest, joke with the captain, and had already talked his way out of several sticky situations. He added to his singular nature by growing his hair longer than most, and had braided a couple of coloured glass beads into it. But he was well liked by the other men, and had developed a real friendship with Bill Turner.
They had docked in Tortuga two nights before Jack's birthday. The Black Pearl had a rip in her mainsail from a altercation with a Dutch vessel that needed mending, and Captain Flint wanted to take some of the loot off the ship to be hidden away for future needs. The crew spent most of the time ashore, drinking and finding women, and the revelries to celebrate Jack's sixteenth were merely the culmination of their leave.
"More rum!" Bootstrap called.
"I'm not sure I can drink any more," Jack said, his voice slightly slurred. "Not that it's not an uncommonly nice drink."
"It's a great drink," Bill said. He hesitated. "Jack, I'm going back to old England."
Jack sat straight up and peered at his friend from under the brim of his hat. "When? Why?"
Bill sighed, and cupped his hands around his tankard. "It's been a long time, is all. And last time we were there, I met this lass - I don't suppose she'll remember me, but I'd like to find out."
"There are women here too," Jack said. "Pretty girls." He smiled up at the barmaid who had brought them another bottle of rum along with several foamy mugs of ale. "Like this one. My friend here wants to meet a lass, sweetheart!"
She raised her eyebrows, shook her head and turned away.
Bill smiled. "This girl's special, Jack. Beautiful, she is. I've got to know if I stand a chance with her, you see? Anyway, I've got passage on the Lucille, and she sails tomorrow."
"What did the cap'n say?" Jack asked, peering at Bill with bleary eyes.
"Oh, you know Flint," Bootstrap returned. "Didn't say much. Gave me me share of the profits, bade me good luck."
"I'll miss you," Jack admitted, examining his drink.
"Ah, you'll be all right," Bill said. "You're Jack Sparrow, savvy?"
Jack found himself laughing. He hit Bootstrap with his hat. "That, William Turner, is my line."
"That hat's to be worn, not used as a weapon," Bill retorted.
"I've got better news for ye, too."
Jack looked round, to see the Pearl's current second mate, an Irishman named Liam O'Connell, grinning at him. "Aye, and what's that, Mr O'Connell?" he asked.
"Cap'n's found a new cabin boy. You get to be one o' the reg'lar crew, now, Sparrow. Taking over from Bootstrap's tasks." O'Connell leaned in. "And more share o' the booty, too."
"So my going's a good thing for you, Jack," Bill added.
Touching his tankard to Bootstrap's, Jack smiled his usual carefree smile, and the party went on.
They carried on drinking well into the early morning, and eventually the innkeeper turfed all the men out of the tavern. Jack wobbled uncertainly along the street, singing a shanty softly to himself, and examining anyone who passed him with bleary-eyed interest.
"Lookin' for a companion for the night, mister?" The girl appeared from an alleyway, expanses of white skin bulging from a tight bodice, and Jack peered in fascination at her.
"Maybe. Possibly." He frowned. "Am I?"
She laughed, and took his arm.
Jack woke the next morning sprawled over an unfamiliar bed, in a strange room, and it took him a moment to remember where he was and what he had been doing. When he did, he sat up, and realised that was a mistake. His head spinning, he lay down again with a groan.
"Mornin', love." The girl from the night before popped her head around a screen. "Thought you'd never wake up."
Jack waved his hand at her, and did not try to speak.
"Mebbe you haven't, yet," she commented, disappearing again. There were splashing noises, and Jack surmised that she must be washing before the new day.
He tried sitting up again, more slowly, and discovered that his head was a little steadier. He also realised that his clothes were neatly draped over a chair, with his red headscarf, belt and dagger on the top of the pile.
"Hat?" he said to himself.
"Eh?" The girl poked her head around the screen once more.
"Hat," Jack repeated. "I had a hat. Nice hat."
"Hangin' on the back of the door, love," she said, emerging from behind the screen wearing a thin cotton robe. "The water's still warm, if you want a bath."
Jack nodded. "Thanks, I will." Making his way carefully round the screen, he found a tub full of water and some rough soap. He slid into the tub and closed his eyes again, hoping that his head would stop throbbing.
Footsteps told him that the girl had come back to him, and in a moment he felt hands rubbing soap through his hair. "Be careful of the beads," he said, eyes still closed.
"If it weren't for last night, I'd swear you were more woman than man," the girl said. "Long hair, and pretty beads an' all."
"Pirate, love," Jack said lazily, soothed by the fingers massaging his scalp.
"Mad pirate, then," she returned, and poured a jugful of water over his head.
He luxuriated in the lukewarm water for a while, until it got too cold, and then he climbed out and put his clothes back on. The girl looked disappointed.
"Got to go, sweetheart," Jack said. "The Pearl'll be waiting, and I've a friend to say goodbye to. I'll look you up next time we're in Tortuga."
"Ah, ye all say that," she said, and threw him his hat. He blew her a kiss, and strolled out of the door.
Bootstrap was talking to the captain when Jack got back to the ship, his bundle on the deck by his side. As Jack came aboard, Flint shook Bill's hand, and turned away to speak to another of the crew.
Jack stuck his hands in his sash. "You're off, then?" he said.
"Got a ship to catch," Bill agreed. He swung his bundle on his shoulder.
The two men looked at each other, Jack fidgeting from foot to foot. Finally, he nodded. "Well, hurry up, then - you'll miss your tide."
"I'll look for you, when I'm back in the Caribbean," Bill said. "Likewise, ask for me if you're ever in Portsmouth. I hope to see you master of your own ship by then, Jack. I know ye'll do it."
"Good luck with the lass," Jack said. He hesitated, and then stepped forward and gave Bootstrap a hug.
Bill was momentarily taken aback, but after a second's pause he returned the embrace. "Good luck for you, too, lad."
Jack watched as his friend went down the gangplank, on to the dock and across the harbour to a small, speedy-looking brig. Bill did not look back.
Sighing, Jack turned and made for the hatch, to leave his hat and other belongings with his hammock, but he was stopped by the captain.
"Hear you had a lively time last night, Sparrow."
"It was that, captain," Jack said. Flint regarded him, and shook his head, before shrugging and continuing.
"O'Connell told me he told you 'bout the new cabin boy. I'll up your share of the loot, when we get some, but you look after him, right?"
"I'll treat him as well as I'd treat meself, sir," Jack said.
"Good lad. He's below decks, sorting his stuff out. Go and find him, then both of you back on deck. We sail in an hour."
"Where to?" Jack asked.
"East," said Flint.
Jack sketched the captain a bow, and hurried below decks to find the new cabin boy.
He was folding a blanket on the end of his hammock, a skinny lad with dark skin and black hair. Jack flung his hat into his own hammock, and crossed to the boy.
"Mornin'," he said.
"It's afternoon." The boy spoke with a tight, controlled voice and a Creole accent.
Jack shrugged. "So 'tis. Afternoon, then. I hear you're taking my job from me."
The boy looked up, and Jack caught the sight of big brown eyes under a floppy hat. "Oh? Who are you?"
"I'm Jack Sparrow, savvy? Ex-cabin boy of the Black Pearl. Cap'n's charged me with looking after you - you've got a name?"
"An ... André," the cabin boy said. "De Haïti."
"Well, then, André of Haïti," Jack said, "we've work to do. We're sailing shortly. You're coming?"
"I am aboard," André said, "so yes, I am coming." He stood up.
Jack nodded. "Good. Well, then, André - welcome to the Black Pearl."
----
TBC: he's got the scarf. He's got the long hair. He's got the beads (well, some of them). He's got the hat. Naught remains to be obtained but those lovely dark-rimmed eyes - and in Chapter 6, we'll find out how he gets them.