By the Light of the Moon
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Pirates of the Caribbean characters. Much as I would like to, I don't! Life is so unfair...
A/N: Welcome, me hearties! This is a story of everyone's favorite captain, from his point of view. This tells a little about his past, which he is remembering as flashbacks from different parts in the movie. I wrote about Jack's three loves in my other story, "A Corset for a Cutlass" and decided to elaborate them here. I'm trying VERY hard to keep him in character, so I've read his lines in the script about 20 times or more!
A/N #2: I'm listening to the official POTC soundtrack as I'm writing this, which really puts me in the mood. I'm always humming the 2nd song because I just love Jack's entrance in the movie! But I think that really describes his character, and also in song 6 in the middle (that's when they're under the boat). I imagine Jack running through the street, the jumpy cello tune totally describes his walk. Yeah, I know, I picture things when I listen to music. Anyway, go buy the CD!
A/N #3: Last one, I promise! It's so weird, but after I see a movie a few times and find a character I really like, I start to wonder about their past and what makes them the way they are. So this is my interpretation. Hope you like, mateys! I don't know Jack's real age in the movie, and I know Johnny Depp is 40, but I'm making him 35.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter I: Imprisoned in Thoughts
So there I was, the un-catchable Captain Jack Sparrow, leaning against the cold gray concrete wall of a jail cell. I rubbed the back of my head where I had been hit by a glass bottle in the blacksmith forge. Stuck in this cell when I could be out pillaging and plundering and getting my ship back, I thought sadly. I pulled my hat away from my eyes for a moment and watched the prisoners in the cell next to mine trying to coax a flea-bitten dog with a bone. The dog stared at them with blank eyes, obviously not interested.
"You can keep doing that forever," I remarked, "the dog is never going to move." One of the prisoners turned to me and scowled.
"Oh, excuse us if we haven't resigned ourselves to the gallows just yet," he said. I made no reply, but rolled my eyes and pulled the hat over them again. A man's got to have sleep sometime, even a pirate, though preferably in a comfortable feather bed with his arm around a tavern whore. Clothing optional. The dank, gloomy dungeon reminded me of my old home, when I was young. How long had it been? Must have been at least... twenty-five years or so, since I'd last seen the place. It was a very hot summer when I was in my tenth year, and I fell in love that July afternoon. With a maiden who could change from beautiful, to cruel, to benign, in the blink of a kohl-lined eye. Her name was Sea, and she took my heart from the very moment I saw her...
**FLASHBACK**
''Hurry up, boy, we don' have all day!' I barely heard my father, as I was too busy staring out at the amber waves crashing upon the rocks in the harbor. They seemed to make a song, which captivated my attention and left all other matters behind. The Sea was calling to me. The sun was setting far off in the west, and the sky was ablaze with flames of red and gold, reflected in the ocean's shining face. I jumped as a hand grabbed my arm. 'We be going now, Jack!' I turned reluctantly back to my father.
'The ocean, she sings to me,' I said. I was an honest lad, a trait which I've 'more or less' kept throughout the years. My father, a muscular and slightly ponchy man with a balding head, only laughed.
'Tha's nonsense, 'nd I'll be hearin' nothin' else of the sort, understand me?' he said, dropping a heavy barrel into my arms. He collected supplies from the merchant sailors who stopped at the docks, and brought them into town.
'Yes, Father,' I said sadly, and followed him onto the wagon drawn by mules. I gazed behind me as we clattered away over the dirt path. The waves seemed to beckon me back, and I was reluctant to leave my mistress.
We returned home after nearly an hour.
'Now be a good lad and go inside, while I take these to the town,' Father said. I nodded and entered my small three-room cottage. My mother, Esperanza Pearl Rosa Laurence, was out at the market. She was a young woman from Hispaniola, a true beauty who passed her dark hair and amber-brown eyes to me. My father, Edward Laurence, married her when I was a year old, after she birthed me by an unknown man. But since I had known no true father, Edward was the closest to a real one, though he was very rough and sometimes beat my mother and I.
I stepped into our little kitchen, and there, right before my eyes, in my mother's favorite chair, sat a strange woman. She had frizzy red hair and wore too much eyeliner, and the laces of her bodice were practically popping off. A very interesting mental picture, now that I think of it, and I've since kept my taste for redheads...
'Why, 'ello, li'lle boy. Wot's yer name?,' she said. I gasped and ran to my room. Who was that woman, and why was she in my house? I decided to calm myself by pulling out my yellowed parchment and a piece of charcoal from under my tiny bed. Unlike many of the village brats, I knew my letters, thanks to my mother, but the charcoal was not for writing. I closed my eyes and tried to remember, sifting through my mind... With a few strokes the paper was transformed. The harbor became real, regenerated onto the aging parchment. I haven't sketched for years, and I doubt that I'd still have the same ability today, but all the same, it was a way for me to escape my harsh life. Suddenly I heard noises and shoved the sketch back under my bed. I didn't want it to end up in the fire like all my other ones. I crept out of my bedroom and looked around the corner of the wall. My mother was standing there, pointing and shouting at my father, the grocery basket hooked around her arm forgotten.
'Edward, I'll tell you for the last time! You are not to be bringing your wenches to the house anymore, you hear me?!' Of course, to my little boy ears, the word 'wench' was new and not in my vocabulary. How different that is now.
'I'll show you a wench, you wretched Fernandan!' the strange blonde woman screeched, standing behind my father.
'I'm warning you, Edward, I'll take Jack and we'll leave right this instant!' my mother said. She began to walk towards my hiding spot, on her way to my bedroom.
'No you won't!' replied my father, grabbing her arm. She pulled it out of his grip and continued on her way. But he wound an arm around her waist and threw her into the wall. There was a nasty crack, and she didn't move. I was terrified at that moment, and ran to her.
'Mama! I cried, shaking her shoulders, and getting not the slightest response.
'You, boy, what did you see?' said Father. I turned to him, tears streaming down my dirty cheeks.
'You hurt Mama!' I accused him.
'She got was she deserved! I'll teach you not to speak to your father that way!' he shouted angrily, and made a lunge for me. But I was small and quick, and I dashed around him and to the door.
'You're not my father!' I cried. 'I HATE YOU!' And I bolted out the door, ignoring his shouts and various threats. My little legs carried me as fast as they could, and I sobbed as I ran.
**END FLASHBACK**
I was broken from my reverie by a loud blast outside. It sparked my memory, and I barely hoped to believe it.
"I know those guns," I said, more to myself than the other prisoners. I stood up and looked out of the narrow barred window. "It's the Pearl!"
"Black Pearl?" a prisoner asked timidly. "I've heard stories. She's been preying on ships and settlements for near ten years. Never leaves any survivors." I chuckled to myself and turned to him. Some people never think.
"Then where do the stories come from, I wonder?" He had no answer to that. I ducked as a cannonball came whizzing our way. It blew a hole in the cell next to mine, and the thieves and vagabonds began to escape.
"My sympathies, friend," said the same one who had asked about the Pearl, "you've no manner of luck at all." He's probably right, I thought, as I fitted my head in the small hole in the wall of my cell. Maybe Captain Jack Sparrow really is running out of luck. I looked around the dungeon, for any chance of escape. I couldn't stand being stuck in any one place for too long. That's when my eyes landed on the dog bone. Ah, what the heck? Might as well... I reached for it and whistled, banging it on the bars.
"Come on, doggy. It's just you and me now. It's you and ol' Jack, come on," I cooed. Much to my surprise, the dog actually began to inch towards me. "Come on, good boy. That's it, good boy, come on! Bit closer, bit closer. That's it, that's it, doggy. Come on you filthy, slimy, mangy cat." There was a noise from above and the dog skittered away and out of reach. "No, no, no, no, no, I didn't mean it," I pleaded. "I didn't..." But there was another crash, and a guard came rolling down the steps. Two familiar men cam hurrying down. I gritted my teeth. Two members of my old crew.
"This ain't the armory," said the one called Twigg. Oh, brilliant, my friend, you do have brains after all. I was beginning to lose hope for you, I thought sarcastically. That's when they spotted me.
"Well, well, well, look what we have here Twigg - Captain Jack Sparrow," said the other pirate. Never could remember his name. He had a really awful dental job, I remember. Twigg spat at my feet and grinned wickedly.
"Last time I saw you, you were all alone on a godforsaken island, shrinking into the distance. His fortunes aren't improved much." I narrowed my eyes at him. Don't mention that awful bloody island again, I warned mentally.
"Worry about your own fortunes, gentlemen. The deepest circle of Hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers," I said quietly. His companion growled and grabbed at my throat. I pulled back quickly, but could still see his arm in the moonlight. It was bone-white and skeletal. And I mean, really skeletal. As in, no flesh.
"So there is a curse. That's interesting," I remarked. I had heard of the curse on my journeys, but I'd never believed it. Until now.
"You know nothing of Hell," he spat, and they turned and left. I stared after them for a moment. If there really is a curse, I thought, that means Barbossa can't die either. So much for my one shot. I held up the bone still in my hand.
"That's very interesting."
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Pirates of the Caribbean characters. Much as I would like to, I don't! Life is so unfair...
A/N: Welcome, me hearties! This is a story of everyone's favorite captain, from his point of view. This tells a little about his past, which he is remembering as flashbacks from different parts in the movie. I wrote about Jack's three loves in my other story, "A Corset for a Cutlass" and decided to elaborate them here. I'm trying VERY hard to keep him in character, so I've read his lines in the script about 20 times or more!
A/N #2: I'm listening to the official POTC soundtrack as I'm writing this, which really puts me in the mood. I'm always humming the 2nd song because I just love Jack's entrance in the movie! But I think that really describes his character, and also in song 6 in the middle (that's when they're under the boat). I imagine Jack running through the street, the jumpy cello tune totally describes his walk. Yeah, I know, I picture things when I listen to music. Anyway, go buy the CD!
A/N #3: Last one, I promise! It's so weird, but after I see a movie a few times and find a character I really like, I start to wonder about their past and what makes them the way they are. So this is my interpretation. Hope you like, mateys! I don't know Jack's real age in the movie, and I know Johnny Depp is 40, but I'm making him 35.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter I: Imprisoned in Thoughts
So there I was, the un-catchable Captain Jack Sparrow, leaning against the cold gray concrete wall of a jail cell. I rubbed the back of my head where I had been hit by a glass bottle in the blacksmith forge. Stuck in this cell when I could be out pillaging and plundering and getting my ship back, I thought sadly. I pulled my hat away from my eyes for a moment and watched the prisoners in the cell next to mine trying to coax a flea-bitten dog with a bone. The dog stared at them with blank eyes, obviously not interested.
"You can keep doing that forever," I remarked, "the dog is never going to move." One of the prisoners turned to me and scowled.
"Oh, excuse us if we haven't resigned ourselves to the gallows just yet," he said. I made no reply, but rolled my eyes and pulled the hat over them again. A man's got to have sleep sometime, even a pirate, though preferably in a comfortable feather bed with his arm around a tavern whore. Clothing optional. The dank, gloomy dungeon reminded me of my old home, when I was young. How long had it been? Must have been at least... twenty-five years or so, since I'd last seen the place. It was a very hot summer when I was in my tenth year, and I fell in love that July afternoon. With a maiden who could change from beautiful, to cruel, to benign, in the blink of a kohl-lined eye. Her name was Sea, and she took my heart from the very moment I saw her...
**FLASHBACK**
''Hurry up, boy, we don' have all day!' I barely heard my father, as I was too busy staring out at the amber waves crashing upon the rocks in the harbor. They seemed to make a song, which captivated my attention and left all other matters behind. The Sea was calling to me. The sun was setting far off in the west, and the sky was ablaze with flames of red and gold, reflected in the ocean's shining face. I jumped as a hand grabbed my arm. 'We be going now, Jack!' I turned reluctantly back to my father.
'The ocean, she sings to me,' I said. I was an honest lad, a trait which I've 'more or less' kept throughout the years. My father, a muscular and slightly ponchy man with a balding head, only laughed.
'Tha's nonsense, 'nd I'll be hearin' nothin' else of the sort, understand me?' he said, dropping a heavy barrel into my arms. He collected supplies from the merchant sailors who stopped at the docks, and brought them into town.
'Yes, Father,' I said sadly, and followed him onto the wagon drawn by mules. I gazed behind me as we clattered away over the dirt path. The waves seemed to beckon me back, and I was reluctant to leave my mistress.
We returned home after nearly an hour.
'Now be a good lad and go inside, while I take these to the town,' Father said. I nodded and entered my small three-room cottage. My mother, Esperanza Pearl Rosa Laurence, was out at the market. She was a young woman from Hispaniola, a true beauty who passed her dark hair and amber-brown eyes to me. My father, Edward Laurence, married her when I was a year old, after she birthed me by an unknown man. But since I had known no true father, Edward was the closest to a real one, though he was very rough and sometimes beat my mother and I.
I stepped into our little kitchen, and there, right before my eyes, in my mother's favorite chair, sat a strange woman. She had frizzy red hair and wore too much eyeliner, and the laces of her bodice were practically popping off. A very interesting mental picture, now that I think of it, and I've since kept my taste for redheads...
'Why, 'ello, li'lle boy. Wot's yer name?,' she said. I gasped and ran to my room. Who was that woman, and why was she in my house? I decided to calm myself by pulling out my yellowed parchment and a piece of charcoal from under my tiny bed. Unlike many of the village brats, I knew my letters, thanks to my mother, but the charcoal was not for writing. I closed my eyes and tried to remember, sifting through my mind... With a few strokes the paper was transformed. The harbor became real, regenerated onto the aging parchment. I haven't sketched for years, and I doubt that I'd still have the same ability today, but all the same, it was a way for me to escape my harsh life. Suddenly I heard noises and shoved the sketch back under my bed. I didn't want it to end up in the fire like all my other ones. I crept out of my bedroom and looked around the corner of the wall. My mother was standing there, pointing and shouting at my father, the grocery basket hooked around her arm forgotten.
'Edward, I'll tell you for the last time! You are not to be bringing your wenches to the house anymore, you hear me?!' Of course, to my little boy ears, the word 'wench' was new and not in my vocabulary. How different that is now.
'I'll show you a wench, you wretched Fernandan!' the strange blonde woman screeched, standing behind my father.
'I'm warning you, Edward, I'll take Jack and we'll leave right this instant!' my mother said. She began to walk towards my hiding spot, on her way to my bedroom.
'No you won't!' replied my father, grabbing her arm. She pulled it out of his grip and continued on her way. But he wound an arm around her waist and threw her into the wall. There was a nasty crack, and she didn't move. I was terrified at that moment, and ran to her.
'Mama! I cried, shaking her shoulders, and getting not the slightest response.
'You, boy, what did you see?' said Father. I turned to him, tears streaming down my dirty cheeks.
'You hurt Mama!' I accused him.
'She got was she deserved! I'll teach you not to speak to your father that way!' he shouted angrily, and made a lunge for me. But I was small and quick, and I dashed around him and to the door.
'You're not my father!' I cried. 'I HATE YOU!' And I bolted out the door, ignoring his shouts and various threats. My little legs carried me as fast as they could, and I sobbed as I ran.
**END FLASHBACK**
I was broken from my reverie by a loud blast outside. It sparked my memory, and I barely hoped to believe it.
"I know those guns," I said, more to myself than the other prisoners. I stood up and looked out of the narrow barred window. "It's the Pearl!"
"Black Pearl?" a prisoner asked timidly. "I've heard stories. She's been preying on ships and settlements for near ten years. Never leaves any survivors." I chuckled to myself and turned to him. Some people never think.
"Then where do the stories come from, I wonder?" He had no answer to that. I ducked as a cannonball came whizzing our way. It blew a hole in the cell next to mine, and the thieves and vagabonds began to escape.
"My sympathies, friend," said the same one who had asked about the Pearl, "you've no manner of luck at all." He's probably right, I thought, as I fitted my head in the small hole in the wall of my cell. Maybe Captain Jack Sparrow really is running out of luck. I looked around the dungeon, for any chance of escape. I couldn't stand being stuck in any one place for too long. That's when my eyes landed on the dog bone. Ah, what the heck? Might as well... I reached for it and whistled, banging it on the bars.
"Come on, doggy. It's just you and me now. It's you and ol' Jack, come on," I cooed. Much to my surprise, the dog actually began to inch towards me. "Come on, good boy. That's it, good boy, come on! Bit closer, bit closer. That's it, that's it, doggy. Come on you filthy, slimy, mangy cat." There was a noise from above and the dog skittered away and out of reach. "No, no, no, no, no, I didn't mean it," I pleaded. "I didn't..." But there was another crash, and a guard came rolling down the steps. Two familiar men cam hurrying down. I gritted my teeth. Two members of my old crew.
"This ain't the armory," said the one called Twigg. Oh, brilliant, my friend, you do have brains after all. I was beginning to lose hope for you, I thought sarcastically. That's when they spotted me.
"Well, well, well, look what we have here Twigg - Captain Jack Sparrow," said the other pirate. Never could remember his name. He had a really awful dental job, I remember. Twigg spat at my feet and grinned wickedly.
"Last time I saw you, you were all alone on a godforsaken island, shrinking into the distance. His fortunes aren't improved much." I narrowed my eyes at him. Don't mention that awful bloody island again, I warned mentally.
"Worry about your own fortunes, gentlemen. The deepest circle of Hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers," I said quietly. His companion growled and grabbed at my throat. I pulled back quickly, but could still see his arm in the moonlight. It was bone-white and skeletal. And I mean, really skeletal. As in, no flesh.
"So there is a curse. That's interesting," I remarked. I had heard of the curse on my journeys, but I'd never believed it. Until now.
"You know nothing of Hell," he spat, and they turned and left. I stared after them for a moment. If there really is a curse, I thought, that means Barbossa can't die either. So much for my one shot. I held up the bone still in my hand.
"That's very interesting."