Disclaimer: see chapter 1
Author's note: continued thanks to everyone who's reviewed - those who are repeat reviewers and those who are new reviewers alike.
----
"This is utterly bloody ridiculous!" Jack threw down his mop in disgust, and stood hands on hips, glaring.
He had succeeded in finding a pirate ship leaving Tortuga the same day that the Black Pearl was hauled out of the water for repairs. The Fiery Dragon was a somewhat dilapidated brigantine, a little smaller than the Pearl, but her captain was looking for crew and did not even ask Jack for a recommendation from Captain Flint. He promised Jack an equal share in profits, and assured him he would be able to leave the ship when the Black Pearl was ready to sail once more. Accordingly Jack fetched his belongings from the Pearl, said goodbye to her crew - O'Connell was leaving for Dublin, several others for England - and joined his new ship.
Now, less than a week later, he was regretting his hasty decision.
At first, things had been all right. Getting underway, Jack had been sent to his favourite post aloft, unfurling the main topsail, and after that it had been all hands to tidying the ship. The crew were perhaps less talkative than the pirates on the Black Pearl, but they were not unpleasant, and Jack was happy enough. But on the second day out of Tortuga, the situation worsened. He had been set to swabbing the decks and cleaning brasswork that had not been cleaned for months; tasks he completed willingly enough. However, when those same jobs were given him for the next two days, he began to get annoyed. Now, on the fifth day, with the decks shining and the brass gleaming, he was fed up.
"You missed a spot." Some of the crew, lounging on coils of rope playing cards, glanced over to Jack and his discarded mop, grinning at each other.
"It can stay missed," Jack retorted. "Didn't join this ship to mop the deck."
"Oooh, 'oity-toity, ain't we?" The comment came from a man with a tangled and straggly ginger beard.
"Ship's gotta be kept clean," another added. " But we're not goin' to do it. It be a job for lads like you."
Deliberately and carefully, Jack picked up the bucket he had been using to collect water, and emptied it over the side of the ship. He put it down in its accustomed storage space, by the mast, and put the mop in its place too.
"I am not a lad," he said, turning to the other pirates.
They exchanged glances.
"Are ye not?" the ginger bearded one said. "What are you, then? A lass?" The men laughed. "Sure looks like it, don't it, mates?" he continued. "Them beads an' baubles."
"It's darned bad luck to have a woman on board," said a stout pirate, leering unpleasantly.
"Is it?" Jack said. "You reckon so? I suppose that explains why we sailed four years with a lass as cabin boy, and came back as the richest buccaneer ship in the Caribbean?"
"We?" said the ginger pirate, climbing to his feet. "That'd be old Skinflint and his precious Pearl, would it? The ship what looked like she were about to fall apart when she got into Tortuga last week?"
"At least she'd gone somewhere!" said Jack, feeling himself about to explode. Somehow he did not mind personal insults, but people badmouthing the Black Pearl was a step too far. "I'm beginning to wonder if you lot really are pirates, or if you just drift about for a bit and then sail back into port. Ever attack anything?"
The rest of the men got to their feet, hands clutching at knives.
"You'll regret that, boy!" Ginger Beard snarled, drawing his own short cutlass.
Jack spread his hands. "I'm unarmed, mate. Not very gentlemanly to draw on an unarmed man, now, is it?"
"We're not gentlemen!" the other man said. "We're bleedin' pirates."
"No honour amongst thieves these days?" Jack asked. "You want to fight, then we'll fight, but give me a chance to fetch me sword, at least."
The ginger-haired pirate lowered his cutlass, and nodded. "All right, then. Go an' fetch it."
"Fetch what?" The voice came from behind them, and the group turned to see the captain of the Dragon, arms folded, face set in irritation.
"His, er, his ..." stammered the stout pirate, after a moment's pause.
"My sword, cap'n," Jack said.
"Your sword, Sparrow?"
"It's like this, cap'n," Jack explained. "Me, I'm sick of swabbing these decks all by my onesies, savvy? Decks don't need cleaning all day, every day. See, I'm happy to take my turn. But I'm not going to work constantly with them sitting there taking their ease."
"He said as how we weren't real pirates," the ginger man cut in. "How we ain't attacked anything yet. Why'd you take on this stripling, cap'n? He's no good for anything." He glared at Jack. "Except swabbing the decks."
Jack shrugged. "Like I said, let me get a sword and I'll prove I'm worth more than that."
The captain looked from one to the other, and nodded. "Go on, then."
"Sir?"
"Get your sword, Sparrow. It's a dull day, we'll have some sport."
Grinning, Jack nodded and hurried off to find his sword.
When he came back, having rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and tightened his headscarf around his head, he found the deck cleared and the pirates in a circle, leaving a space large enough to fight in. Ginger Beard had taken off his coat and was waiting, pacing the space restlessly.
Jack drew his sword and threw the belt and sheath aside.
"We're agreed that we're not gentlemen, then?" he said, adjusting his grip and his balance.
His opponent nodded. "Agreed."
"Excellent," said Jack, and attacked. The ginger pirate met his lunge with a tolerable parry, and followed that up by slashing his cutlass across, aiming for Jack's sword arm. Jack dodged and feinted, and danced backwards neatly out of the other man's way. Ginger Beard snarled, and moved in fast but without planning his attack. Easily sidestepping, Jack darted the tip of his sword in and grazed the pirate's face.
The watching crew cheered at the sight of blood, but far from being daunted, the ginger pirate kept on coming.
They moved round and round the circle, Jack pressing his speed and agility advantage, the other man using his weight and height. But Ginger Beard had clearly not expected his young opponent to challenge him so convincingly, and his attacks grew steadily more desperate. Jack kept his feet moving, finding his balance easily on the shifting deck, his wrist loose and fluid as the sword flitted dangerously close to the older man's body.
Their audience watched keenly, applauding particularly clever moves and goading both the fighters on. There was certainly more support for Ginger Beard, but Jack heard the odd shout in his favour too. Those encouraged him. He maintained his attacks, and finally, after maybe ten minutes of hard duelling, he landed a solid sideways blow on the other man's legs. The ginger pirate stumbled, and fell. Instantly Jack had the point of his sword at his opponent's neck.
"So," he said, breath coming quickly, "I'm no good for anything, is that it?"
Ginger Beard let his cutlass drop from his outstretched hand. "No," he said, grudgingly, "I give in. You win."
Jack stepped back, and saluted his fallen enemy with his sword. "Thank you," he said, holding out a hand to help Ginger Beard up.
The older man took the offered hand, and got to his feet.
"Well now," said the captain, thoughtful, "you never told me you could fight, Sparrow."
"You never asked, sir," Jack returned. "I said I was looking for a ship, you said you had room."
"Fair enough," the captain conceded. His expression hardened. "But ye're still the new one aboard, Sparrow, and there's no call for shirking duties."
"Shirking duties!" Jack exclaimed. "I've mopped these decks till you could eat dinner off 'em, and watched others sit and gamble the day away. With respect, cap'n, I didn't join this ship to swab decks." "What did you join it for, then?" the captain demanded.
Jack picked up his scabbard and slid the sword into it. "Because I'm a pirate, cap'n, and I reckoned this looked like a pirate ship. So far, doesn't look much like it. Aren't we going to attack anything? Loot something?"
"That's enough, Sparrow!" the captain said. "I'll take you off swabbing duty, if that'll shut you up."
"Shut me up," Jack said. "Right you are, cap'n. I'll be silent as the grave."
"You'd better be," Ginger Beard put in, "or you'll be feeling the edge of me blade." He waved the cutlass, threateningly. Jack threw him a smile.
The captain shot the ginger pirate a glance, and the cutlass was swiftly put away. Jack, true to his word, said nothing, but observed the moment of discipline and stored it away for future reference.
The crew dispersed, given a variety of small tasks to do. Jack was sent up the mainmast on lookout duty. He sat comfortably across the topmost spar, arm hooked around the mast for stability, and savoured the solitude as the Fiery Dragon glided across the ocean's surface.
Down below, the captain and Ginger Beard talked, casting the occasional glance upwards at Jack on his perch. Eventually, the captain disappeared into his cabin, leaving the ginger pirate at the helm, and Jack up above, blissfully unaware of events on deck.
Author's note: continued thanks to everyone who's reviewed - those who are repeat reviewers and those who are new reviewers alike.
----
"This is utterly bloody ridiculous!" Jack threw down his mop in disgust, and stood hands on hips, glaring.
He had succeeded in finding a pirate ship leaving Tortuga the same day that the Black Pearl was hauled out of the water for repairs. The Fiery Dragon was a somewhat dilapidated brigantine, a little smaller than the Pearl, but her captain was looking for crew and did not even ask Jack for a recommendation from Captain Flint. He promised Jack an equal share in profits, and assured him he would be able to leave the ship when the Black Pearl was ready to sail once more. Accordingly Jack fetched his belongings from the Pearl, said goodbye to her crew - O'Connell was leaving for Dublin, several others for England - and joined his new ship.
Now, less than a week later, he was regretting his hasty decision.
At first, things had been all right. Getting underway, Jack had been sent to his favourite post aloft, unfurling the main topsail, and after that it had been all hands to tidying the ship. The crew were perhaps less talkative than the pirates on the Black Pearl, but they were not unpleasant, and Jack was happy enough. But on the second day out of Tortuga, the situation worsened. He had been set to swabbing the decks and cleaning brasswork that had not been cleaned for months; tasks he completed willingly enough. However, when those same jobs were given him for the next two days, he began to get annoyed. Now, on the fifth day, with the decks shining and the brass gleaming, he was fed up.
"You missed a spot." Some of the crew, lounging on coils of rope playing cards, glanced over to Jack and his discarded mop, grinning at each other.
"It can stay missed," Jack retorted. "Didn't join this ship to mop the deck."
"Oooh, 'oity-toity, ain't we?" The comment came from a man with a tangled and straggly ginger beard.
"Ship's gotta be kept clean," another added. " But we're not goin' to do it. It be a job for lads like you."
Deliberately and carefully, Jack picked up the bucket he had been using to collect water, and emptied it over the side of the ship. He put it down in its accustomed storage space, by the mast, and put the mop in its place too.
"I am not a lad," he said, turning to the other pirates.
They exchanged glances.
"Are ye not?" the ginger bearded one said. "What are you, then? A lass?" The men laughed. "Sure looks like it, don't it, mates?" he continued. "Them beads an' baubles."
"It's darned bad luck to have a woman on board," said a stout pirate, leering unpleasantly.
"Is it?" Jack said. "You reckon so? I suppose that explains why we sailed four years with a lass as cabin boy, and came back as the richest buccaneer ship in the Caribbean?"
"We?" said the ginger pirate, climbing to his feet. "That'd be old Skinflint and his precious Pearl, would it? The ship what looked like she were about to fall apart when she got into Tortuga last week?"
"At least she'd gone somewhere!" said Jack, feeling himself about to explode. Somehow he did not mind personal insults, but people badmouthing the Black Pearl was a step too far. "I'm beginning to wonder if you lot really are pirates, or if you just drift about for a bit and then sail back into port. Ever attack anything?"
The rest of the men got to their feet, hands clutching at knives.
"You'll regret that, boy!" Ginger Beard snarled, drawing his own short cutlass.
Jack spread his hands. "I'm unarmed, mate. Not very gentlemanly to draw on an unarmed man, now, is it?"
"We're not gentlemen!" the other man said. "We're bleedin' pirates."
"No honour amongst thieves these days?" Jack asked. "You want to fight, then we'll fight, but give me a chance to fetch me sword, at least."
The ginger-haired pirate lowered his cutlass, and nodded. "All right, then. Go an' fetch it."
"Fetch what?" The voice came from behind them, and the group turned to see the captain of the Dragon, arms folded, face set in irritation.
"His, er, his ..." stammered the stout pirate, after a moment's pause.
"My sword, cap'n," Jack said.
"Your sword, Sparrow?"
"It's like this, cap'n," Jack explained. "Me, I'm sick of swabbing these decks all by my onesies, savvy? Decks don't need cleaning all day, every day. See, I'm happy to take my turn. But I'm not going to work constantly with them sitting there taking their ease."
"He said as how we weren't real pirates," the ginger man cut in. "How we ain't attacked anything yet. Why'd you take on this stripling, cap'n? He's no good for anything." He glared at Jack. "Except swabbing the decks."
Jack shrugged. "Like I said, let me get a sword and I'll prove I'm worth more than that."
The captain looked from one to the other, and nodded. "Go on, then."
"Sir?"
"Get your sword, Sparrow. It's a dull day, we'll have some sport."
Grinning, Jack nodded and hurried off to find his sword.
When he came back, having rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and tightened his headscarf around his head, he found the deck cleared and the pirates in a circle, leaving a space large enough to fight in. Ginger Beard had taken off his coat and was waiting, pacing the space restlessly.
Jack drew his sword and threw the belt and sheath aside.
"We're agreed that we're not gentlemen, then?" he said, adjusting his grip and his balance.
His opponent nodded. "Agreed."
"Excellent," said Jack, and attacked. The ginger pirate met his lunge with a tolerable parry, and followed that up by slashing his cutlass across, aiming for Jack's sword arm. Jack dodged and feinted, and danced backwards neatly out of the other man's way. Ginger Beard snarled, and moved in fast but without planning his attack. Easily sidestepping, Jack darted the tip of his sword in and grazed the pirate's face.
The watching crew cheered at the sight of blood, but far from being daunted, the ginger pirate kept on coming.
They moved round and round the circle, Jack pressing his speed and agility advantage, the other man using his weight and height. But Ginger Beard had clearly not expected his young opponent to challenge him so convincingly, and his attacks grew steadily more desperate. Jack kept his feet moving, finding his balance easily on the shifting deck, his wrist loose and fluid as the sword flitted dangerously close to the older man's body.
Their audience watched keenly, applauding particularly clever moves and goading both the fighters on. There was certainly more support for Ginger Beard, but Jack heard the odd shout in his favour too. Those encouraged him. He maintained his attacks, and finally, after maybe ten minutes of hard duelling, he landed a solid sideways blow on the other man's legs. The ginger pirate stumbled, and fell. Instantly Jack had the point of his sword at his opponent's neck.
"So," he said, breath coming quickly, "I'm no good for anything, is that it?"
Ginger Beard let his cutlass drop from his outstretched hand. "No," he said, grudgingly, "I give in. You win."
Jack stepped back, and saluted his fallen enemy with his sword. "Thank you," he said, holding out a hand to help Ginger Beard up.
The older man took the offered hand, and got to his feet.
"Well now," said the captain, thoughtful, "you never told me you could fight, Sparrow."
"You never asked, sir," Jack returned. "I said I was looking for a ship, you said you had room."
"Fair enough," the captain conceded. His expression hardened. "But ye're still the new one aboard, Sparrow, and there's no call for shirking duties."
"Shirking duties!" Jack exclaimed. "I've mopped these decks till you could eat dinner off 'em, and watched others sit and gamble the day away. With respect, cap'n, I didn't join this ship to swab decks." "What did you join it for, then?" the captain demanded.
Jack picked up his scabbard and slid the sword into it. "Because I'm a pirate, cap'n, and I reckoned this looked like a pirate ship. So far, doesn't look much like it. Aren't we going to attack anything? Loot something?"
"That's enough, Sparrow!" the captain said. "I'll take you off swabbing duty, if that'll shut you up."
"Shut me up," Jack said. "Right you are, cap'n. I'll be silent as the grave."
"You'd better be," Ginger Beard put in, "or you'll be feeling the edge of me blade." He waved the cutlass, threateningly. Jack threw him a smile.
The captain shot the ginger pirate a glance, and the cutlass was swiftly put away. Jack, true to his word, said nothing, but observed the moment of discipline and stored it away for future reference.
The crew dispersed, given a variety of small tasks to do. Jack was sent up the mainmast on lookout duty. He sat comfortably across the topmost spar, arm hooked around the mast for stability, and savoured the solitude as the Fiery Dragon glided across the ocean's surface.
Down below, the captain and Ginger Beard talked, casting the occasional glance upwards at Jack on his perch. Eventually, the captain disappeared into his cabin, leaving the ginger pirate at the helm, and Jack up above, blissfully unaware of events on deck.