Disclaimer: see chapter 1
----
Jack stood on the wooden pier and watched as the Fiery Dragon receded into the distance. He was clutching his sword belt, wrapped around his battered scabbard; his hat was on his head and he had his coat and boots. So all in all, he considered he was doing all right. He had no money, though, and the only valuable items were the bits of silver in his hair, and his sword.
He turned, and walked slowly off the pier and on to the hard ground of the island. Around him he could hear mainly French, of varying degrees of fluency, and the harbour was full of French naval vessels and respectable merchant ships. There was not a buccaneer in sight.
The captain had stayed true to his word, and Jack had been put ashore the first landfall they made - the island of Martinique, colonised by the French. He had had all his belongings taken away, except for his sword. Someone had passed that up to him as he stood on the pier, the longboat turning to row back to the Dragon. So now here he was, alone, weeks away from Tortuga. He remembered a little French and a little Creole, the former learnt from Joffo and the latter from Anamaria, but not nearly enough to get by. Things did not look good.
He paused and strapped his sword on, feeling the comforting and familiar weight at his waist. With it tapping against his thigh, he wandered on, listening to the conversation around him and picking out what he could.
Passing a bakery with appetising smells drifting out made Jack realise how hungry he was. He had had only meagre rations of water and bread while he was in the brig, and now his stomach grumbled for something more appetising. But what to buy it with?
He felt the trinkets in his hair; mostly worthless beads, pretty enough but not much use for bartering. But there were a few pieces of silver, and he pulled a braid or two before his eyes to examine them. Jack was reluctant to get rid of his decorations - they had become a part of him, as much as his arms and legs.
Accordingly, he kept on going past the bakery, not without a regretful sniff of the fragrant wafts of warm air. If he was not going to barter anything for food, then he would have to resort to piracy, and steal it. He flexed his fingers thoughtfully.
Sure enough, a little further on and around a corner was a small market. More bread, and a variety of fruit and vegetables, were displayed on a number of stalls. People thronged around, baskets on their heads or in their hands, buying. Jack pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes, and sauntered along, weaving in and out of the crowds, using his ship-born agility to stay out of everyone's way. When he was sure that those around him were too busy to pay any attention to him, he let his hand wander out, snagged a mango, and tucked it into his coat. Nobody seemed to have noticed, and he moved along to the next stall and added some bananas. Soon his coat was bulging with fruit, and a small loaf of bread, and he moved off quickly to find a quiet place to eat his gains.
Jack felt much better with the food inside him, and he resolved to set his mind to finding a place to sleep for the night. In the morning, he would try and get passage on a ship back to Tortuga.
Luck, however, was still not with him. In vain he asked for lodging at a number of taverns, but without money nobody would give him a bed. Jack turned on the full force of his charm and tried cajoling the innkeepers' wives, but they merely laughed and closed the door on him. Eventually, he sat down in the doorway of a shop, tipped his hat down over his eyes, and settled down to sleep.
He dreamed, that night, of the Black Pearl. She was newly fitted out, her sails charcoal against a blue sky, her bow cutting cleanly through smooth water. All her crew were aboard, even those who were dead or gone. Jack himself was at the helm, hands caressing the wheel, with Bootstrap Bill at his side. The crew were applauding him for something, and he shot them back a smile, and carried on steering. A compass hung down at his side, and he lifted it and looked at it. It did not seem to point north, and Jack turned to Bootstrap, meaning to ask why, wanting to find out where they were going. Bootstrap grinned at him, showing a mouthful of blackened teeth, and then drew his sword and ran it through Jack's body.
Jack woke, gasping. His neck was cricked from sleeping in a sitting position, and he slowly got to his feet and looked down at his stomach. There was no blood, no ripped shirt - indeed, he seemed to be in one piece, even if it was one rather stiff and cold piece. He took off his hat and rubbed his brow, and stretched.
It was not yet morning, but Jack knew he would not be able to get to sleep again. He buckled on his sword belt and adjusted his coat, and set off towards the harbour.
The town was quiet now, with few people about. The temperature was balmy, and on the horizon Jack could see the first orange stirrings of dawn. He stuck his hands in his sash and yawned, taking a seat on a handy coil of rope and listening to the tap of rope against the masts of the ships at harbour, the creaking of wood, the slap of wavelets against hulls.
As the sun came up, Jack saw that a ship was creeping into the bay from the open sea outside, all her canvas aloft to catch what little wind there was. He watched as the sails were lowered and the ship slipped closer to shore. She came to a halt, there was a splash as her anchor was lowered, and after some time two longboats were lowered and the sweeps cut in and out of the water.
The boats came up to the pier Jack was sitting on, and the coxswain in the first called out to him. "Can you make us fast?"
Jack stood up, and caught the line thrown to him, bending and making it fast in a neat clove hitch around the mooring post.
"Thank you," the coxswain nodded. Jack touched his hat and moved back to allow the occupants of the boat to disembark. The rowers were sailors, clad in a dark blue uniform, but there were passengers as well, looking dishevelled and tired. They climbed out of the longboat on to the pier, passing Jack as he stood to one side.
The third passenger to go past looked up at Jack, and paused. "You?" he said.
"Me?" Jack returned. He examined the other man. "Oh, you!" he exclaimed.
Lord Edward Howard, his velvet coat torn and stained, drew his sword. "Where are the rest of your crew, pirate?"
Jack took a step back, feeling the edge of the pier under his heels, and held his hands up. "Dunno, mate. They sailed off and left me here, and frankly I was glad to see the back of 'em."
"They left you here?" Lord Howard's voice was disbelieving.
The coxswain of the longboat had landed now too, and had come up to Jack and the young lord. "You know this man, your lordship?"
"He was one of the pirates that attacked our ship," Lord Howard said, the point of his sword resting against Jack's throat.
"I'm not denying that," Jack said. "But I had nothing to do with the rest of it, savvy? If I'd known they were stripping you of supplies and disabling your ship, I'd have said something. It's against the Code, that."
"Against the Code?" Edward Howard asked.
"Pirates' Code, y'r lordship," explained Jack. "Attacking's fine. You take what you can. But spitting men in cold blood, that's not done. Leaving men adrift, that's not done either."
"Which does not explain why you were amongst the pirates who did just that to my ship!" the young lord said. "If these good men had not come along and taken us aboard, we would have died out there. Where is the rest of your crew, man?"
"Name's Jack Sparrow," said Jack. "Like I said, they dumped me here, no money, no food, no nothing. We had a disagreement."
"Jack ... Sparrow?" Lord Howard asked.
"At your service, y'r lordship," Jack said. "How about we move this conversation to somewhere more comfortable?"
The coxswain turned from tying up the second longboat alongside the first. "Pirate though this man is, your lordship, he has a point. We cannot stand here all day, and my men were promised some vittles."
Lord Howard lowered the sword. "Very well. Lead the way, Mr Liddell."
They made their way to a tavern, the sailors casting sideways looks at Jack in their midst. Edward Howard kept his sword in his hand, his mouth set in a grim line. He was supported by others Jack recognised from the merchant ship that the Fiery Dragon had attacked, a couple of them with cocked pistols.
They settled down in a tavern, and breakfasts were ordered for all except Jack.
"Now, Sparrow, explain yourself," Edward Howard said, swallowing a mouthful of ale.
Jack explained, telling them the tale of the stolen money and how he had been set up by ginger-haired Burns. "And now I'm looking for passage back to Tortuga," he finished.
"Tortuga?" Liddell, the coxswain, said.
"Where my ship is," Jack said. "Not the Dragon. If I never see her again, I can't say as I'd mind."
"With that I concur," Howard said, devoutly. "And ... and despite myself, I think I believe your tale, Mr Sparrow. You did not harm me, nor anyone else on our ship, and you could have kept my sword. You did rob me ..."
"I'm a pirate, mate," Jack said. "It's what I do."
"Yes." Lord Howard stood up, and slid his sword back into its scabbard at his side. He sat down again, resting his chin on his hands and looking suddenly very young. "How long have you been a pirate, Mr Sparrow?"
Jack did some mental sums. "Nearly ten years," he said. "Since I was a lad."
"And you like it?"
"Wouldn't do anything else," Jack told him, frankly. "It's not an honest trade, but I've given up pretending I'm an honest man. There's nothing like the chase and attack, and nothing like the old Pearl."
Howard smiled. "I envy you your freedom, Mr Sparrow. When this voyage is over, I have to return to England and follow my father into Parliament. If there was no fear of being attacked by your fellows, I would gladly sail the waters instead." He turned to Liddell. "Mr Liddell, do you think we could give Mr Sparrow his passage?"
Liddell shrugged. "'Tis true we are sailing north, to Hispaniola. We could take you that far, Sparrow, if the captain agrees. You made that line fast very neatly, and if you are prepared to work your passage ..."
"Absolutely," Jack said, waving his hand. "I'll work it."
"Then I shall ask our captain," Liddell said.
"Thank you," said Jack, inclining his head in gratitude.
Edward Howard pushed his plate of half-finished breakfast towards Jack. "I find I'm not hungry - would you like this?"
Jack grinned, and set to, thanking whatever gods were smiling down on him.
----
Jack stood on the wooden pier and watched as the Fiery Dragon receded into the distance. He was clutching his sword belt, wrapped around his battered scabbard; his hat was on his head and he had his coat and boots. So all in all, he considered he was doing all right. He had no money, though, and the only valuable items were the bits of silver in his hair, and his sword.
He turned, and walked slowly off the pier and on to the hard ground of the island. Around him he could hear mainly French, of varying degrees of fluency, and the harbour was full of French naval vessels and respectable merchant ships. There was not a buccaneer in sight.
The captain had stayed true to his word, and Jack had been put ashore the first landfall they made - the island of Martinique, colonised by the French. He had had all his belongings taken away, except for his sword. Someone had passed that up to him as he stood on the pier, the longboat turning to row back to the Dragon. So now here he was, alone, weeks away from Tortuga. He remembered a little French and a little Creole, the former learnt from Joffo and the latter from Anamaria, but not nearly enough to get by. Things did not look good.
He paused and strapped his sword on, feeling the comforting and familiar weight at his waist. With it tapping against his thigh, he wandered on, listening to the conversation around him and picking out what he could.
Passing a bakery with appetising smells drifting out made Jack realise how hungry he was. He had had only meagre rations of water and bread while he was in the brig, and now his stomach grumbled for something more appetising. But what to buy it with?
He felt the trinkets in his hair; mostly worthless beads, pretty enough but not much use for bartering. But there were a few pieces of silver, and he pulled a braid or two before his eyes to examine them. Jack was reluctant to get rid of his decorations - they had become a part of him, as much as his arms and legs.
Accordingly, he kept on going past the bakery, not without a regretful sniff of the fragrant wafts of warm air. If he was not going to barter anything for food, then he would have to resort to piracy, and steal it. He flexed his fingers thoughtfully.
Sure enough, a little further on and around a corner was a small market. More bread, and a variety of fruit and vegetables, were displayed on a number of stalls. People thronged around, baskets on their heads or in their hands, buying. Jack pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes, and sauntered along, weaving in and out of the crowds, using his ship-born agility to stay out of everyone's way. When he was sure that those around him were too busy to pay any attention to him, he let his hand wander out, snagged a mango, and tucked it into his coat. Nobody seemed to have noticed, and he moved along to the next stall and added some bananas. Soon his coat was bulging with fruit, and a small loaf of bread, and he moved off quickly to find a quiet place to eat his gains.
Jack felt much better with the food inside him, and he resolved to set his mind to finding a place to sleep for the night. In the morning, he would try and get passage on a ship back to Tortuga.
Luck, however, was still not with him. In vain he asked for lodging at a number of taverns, but without money nobody would give him a bed. Jack turned on the full force of his charm and tried cajoling the innkeepers' wives, but they merely laughed and closed the door on him. Eventually, he sat down in the doorway of a shop, tipped his hat down over his eyes, and settled down to sleep.
He dreamed, that night, of the Black Pearl. She was newly fitted out, her sails charcoal against a blue sky, her bow cutting cleanly through smooth water. All her crew were aboard, even those who were dead or gone. Jack himself was at the helm, hands caressing the wheel, with Bootstrap Bill at his side. The crew were applauding him for something, and he shot them back a smile, and carried on steering. A compass hung down at his side, and he lifted it and looked at it. It did not seem to point north, and Jack turned to Bootstrap, meaning to ask why, wanting to find out where they were going. Bootstrap grinned at him, showing a mouthful of blackened teeth, and then drew his sword and ran it through Jack's body.
Jack woke, gasping. His neck was cricked from sleeping in a sitting position, and he slowly got to his feet and looked down at his stomach. There was no blood, no ripped shirt - indeed, he seemed to be in one piece, even if it was one rather stiff and cold piece. He took off his hat and rubbed his brow, and stretched.
It was not yet morning, but Jack knew he would not be able to get to sleep again. He buckled on his sword belt and adjusted his coat, and set off towards the harbour.
The town was quiet now, with few people about. The temperature was balmy, and on the horizon Jack could see the first orange stirrings of dawn. He stuck his hands in his sash and yawned, taking a seat on a handy coil of rope and listening to the tap of rope against the masts of the ships at harbour, the creaking of wood, the slap of wavelets against hulls.
As the sun came up, Jack saw that a ship was creeping into the bay from the open sea outside, all her canvas aloft to catch what little wind there was. He watched as the sails were lowered and the ship slipped closer to shore. She came to a halt, there was a splash as her anchor was lowered, and after some time two longboats were lowered and the sweeps cut in and out of the water.
The boats came up to the pier Jack was sitting on, and the coxswain in the first called out to him. "Can you make us fast?"
Jack stood up, and caught the line thrown to him, bending and making it fast in a neat clove hitch around the mooring post.
"Thank you," the coxswain nodded. Jack touched his hat and moved back to allow the occupants of the boat to disembark. The rowers were sailors, clad in a dark blue uniform, but there were passengers as well, looking dishevelled and tired. They climbed out of the longboat on to the pier, passing Jack as he stood to one side.
The third passenger to go past looked up at Jack, and paused. "You?" he said.
"Me?" Jack returned. He examined the other man. "Oh, you!" he exclaimed.
Lord Edward Howard, his velvet coat torn and stained, drew his sword. "Where are the rest of your crew, pirate?"
Jack took a step back, feeling the edge of the pier under his heels, and held his hands up. "Dunno, mate. They sailed off and left me here, and frankly I was glad to see the back of 'em."
"They left you here?" Lord Howard's voice was disbelieving.
The coxswain of the longboat had landed now too, and had come up to Jack and the young lord. "You know this man, your lordship?"
"He was one of the pirates that attacked our ship," Lord Howard said, the point of his sword resting against Jack's throat.
"I'm not denying that," Jack said. "But I had nothing to do with the rest of it, savvy? If I'd known they were stripping you of supplies and disabling your ship, I'd have said something. It's against the Code, that."
"Against the Code?" Edward Howard asked.
"Pirates' Code, y'r lordship," explained Jack. "Attacking's fine. You take what you can. But spitting men in cold blood, that's not done. Leaving men adrift, that's not done either."
"Which does not explain why you were amongst the pirates who did just that to my ship!" the young lord said. "If these good men had not come along and taken us aboard, we would have died out there. Where is the rest of your crew, man?"
"Name's Jack Sparrow," said Jack. "Like I said, they dumped me here, no money, no food, no nothing. We had a disagreement."
"Jack ... Sparrow?" Lord Howard asked.
"At your service, y'r lordship," Jack said. "How about we move this conversation to somewhere more comfortable?"
The coxswain turned from tying up the second longboat alongside the first. "Pirate though this man is, your lordship, he has a point. We cannot stand here all day, and my men were promised some vittles."
Lord Howard lowered the sword. "Very well. Lead the way, Mr Liddell."
They made their way to a tavern, the sailors casting sideways looks at Jack in their midst. Edward Howard kept his sword in his hand, his mouth set in a grim line. He was supported by others Jack recognised from the merchant ship that the Fiery Dragon had attacked, a couple of them with cocked pistols.
They settled down in a tavern, and breakfasts were ordered for all except Jack.
"Now, Sparrow, explain yourself," Edward Howard said, swallowing a mouthful of ale.
Jack explained, telling them the tale of the stolen money and how he had been set up by ginger-haired Burns. "And now I'm looking for passage back to Tortuga," he finished.
"Tortuga?" Liddell, the coxswain, said.
"Where my ship is," Jack said. "Not the Dragon. If I never see her again, I can't say as I'd mind."
"With that I concur," Howard said, devoutly. "And ... and despite myself, I think I believe your tale, Mr Sparrow. You did not harm me, nor anyone else on our ship, and you could have kept my sword. You did rob me ..."
"I'm a pirate, mate," Jack said. "It's what I do."
"Yes." Lord Howard stood up, and slid his sword back into its scabbard at his side. He sat down again, resting his chin on his hands and looking suddenly very young. "How long have you been a pirate, Mr Sparrow?"
Jack did some mental sums. "Nearly ten years," he said. "Since I was a lad."
"And you like it?"
"Wouldn't do anything else," Jack told him, frankly. "It's not an honest trade, but I've given up pretending I'm an honest man. There's nothing like the chase and attack, and nothing like the old Pearl."
Howard smiled. "I envy you your freedom, Mr Sparrow. When this voyage is over, I have to return to England and follow my father into Parliament. If there was no fear of being attacked by your fellows, I would gladly sail the waters instead." He turned to Liddell. "Mr Liddell, do you think we could give Mr Sparrow his passage?"
Liddell shrugged. "'Tis true we are sailing north, to Hispaniola. We could take you that far, Sparrow, if the captain agrees. You made that line fast very neatly, and if you are prepared to work your passage ..."
"Absolutely," Jack said, waving his hand. "I'll work it."
"Then I shall ask our captain," Liddell said.
"Thank you," said Jack, inclining his head in gratitude.
Edward Howard pushed his plate of half-finished breakfast towards Jack. "I find I'm not hungry - would you like this?"
Jack grinned, and set to, thanking whatever gods were smiling down on him.