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12 years earlier..
The young Jack Sparrow had recently received claim to his first ship, The Glasmore. Rather shabby, decrepit even, but for the first time the salt on the boards of a ship never smelt fresher.
Turning down the traditional bottle of wine, the craft was dubbed seaworthy with a small bottle of Rum.
The new Captain Sparrow now had a crew worthy of his ship, mostly old friends from his enigmatic past. One included, Barbossa his long time best friend, now declared first mate of the Glasmore. The sea called to Jack in a way it never had buccaneering on ships where he was the commanded. His swift movements and unrivalled swordsmanship had guaranteed him his own ship, with the famous amount of treasure and gold he had acquired.
He smiled a wild smile, bearing his golden teeth. Independence filled his veins as he let out a drunken whoop of laughter. He turned to Barbossa and smirked
"Where we be off to now, matey?"
"Your choice, cap'n"
"Aye" he beamed.
"Guess we be sailin' towards Tortuga then, where we can drink ourselves silly, savvy?"
"Aye, Cap'n. Yes be a happy man now Jack"
The exchanged a glance that showed their history in each other's eyes. Jack pulled away; pirates hold no place for harebrained sentimentality. He placed his hands on the wheel and steered into the neat horizon.
Arrival in Tortuga was as rough and violent as always, as pirate ships docked and their users made their ways to the brothels and taverns. Men were brutally bashed and tortured by pirates in broad daylight, and women robbed and taken into dank alleys.
Any onlooker, deducting the inhabitants, would fins the city picturesque with the bright blue harbour, and the town built amongst tropical foliage.
The crew of the Glasmore made their way into the crowded settlement, holding their knives close to hand.
Jack Sparrow walked into the Iron Boot, a place of refuge ever since he was a very young boy. The bartender, Henry Whittaker, was a friend in times of (quite drunken) need.
"Ill be struck dead, It be young Jack Sparrow" he cried out
"That's Captain Jack Sparrow, Whittaker, and he be needing the comfort of an ole' friend"
"Surely they have ye precious drink on board, Sparrow?"
"Nothin' like ye home-brew, and I'll be takin' some o' that with me"
Jack took a long a dissecting look around the room, at lonely men drinking themselves under the table, and some not so lonely men, pawing over bawdy whores. He sighed, paid for his alcohol, and bid Henry farewell.
He walked back to his ship, sat on the deck and stared into the sea.
Little did he know, he was not the only watching.
Little cat eyes studied the youthful figure of the Captain Jack Sparrow.
Please review! xoxox
12 years earlier..
The young Jack Sparrow had recently received claim to his first ship, The Glasmore. Rather shabby, decrepit even, but for the first time the salt on the boards of a ship never smelt fresher.
Turning down the traditional bottle of wine, the craft was dubbed seaworthy with a small bottle of Rum.
The new Captain Sparrow now had a crew worthy of his ship, mostly old friends from his enigmatic past. One included, Barbossa his long time best friend, now declared first mate of the Glasmore. The sea called to Jack in a way it never had buccaneering on ships where he was the commanded. His swift movements and unrivalled swordsmanship had guaranteed him his own ship, with the famous amount of treasure and gold he had acquired.
He smiled a wild smile, bearing his golden teeth. Independence filled his veins as he let out a drunken whoop of laughter. He turned to Barbossa and smirked
"Where we be off to now, matey?"
"Your choice, cap'n"
"Aye" he beamed.
"Guess we be sailin' towards Tortuga then, where we can drink ourselves silly, savvy?"
"Aye, Cap'n. Yes be a happy man now Jack"
The exchanged a glance that showed their history in each other's eyes. Jack pulled away; pirates hold no place for harebrained sentimentality. He placed his hands on the wheel and steered into the neat horizon.
Arrival in Tortuga was as rough and violent as always, as pirate ships docked and their users made their ways to the brothels and taverns. Men were brutally bashed and tortured by pirates in broad daylight, and women robbed and taken into dank alleys.
Any onlooker, deducting the inhabitants, would fins the city picturesque with the bright blue harbour, and the town built amongst tropical foliage.
The crew of the Glasmore made their way into the crowded settlement, holding their knives close to hand.
Jack Sparrow walked into the Iron Boot, a place of refuge ever since he was a very young boy. The bartender, Henry Whittaker, was a friend in times of (quite drunken) need.
"Ill be struck dead, It be young Jack Sparrow" he cried out
"That's Captain Jack Sparrow, Whittaker, and he be needing the comfort of an ole' friend"
"Surely they have ye precious drink on board, Sparrow?"
"Nothin' like ye home-brew, and I'll be takin' some o' that with me"
Jack took a long a dissecting look around the room, at lonely men drinking themselves under the table, and some not so lonely men, pawing over bawdy whores. He sighed, paid for his alcohol, and bid Henry farewell.
He walked back to his ship, sat on the deck and stared into the sea.
Little did he know, he was not the only watching.
Little cat eyes studied the youthful figure of the Captain Jack Sparrow.
Please review! xoxox