Chapter 2 – Captain Jack Sparrow
(A/N: Note that William Turner is twenty-five when he leaves Rockwell, and ten years older than Jack Turner.)
He sailed out into the distance, mesmerized by the sea. This man's dark eyes reflected the dark sea of the night below. He stood at the bow of the Black Pearl, silent for quite a time, apparently lost completely in his thoughts.
Jack Sparrow thought of his ship, his crew, and of his freedom. Thoughts crossed came to him about Will Turner and Elizabeth Swan every once in awhile, bringing a small smirk to his face. "Nice hat," he muttered to no one but the wind.
Will Turner. That name made him think of William Turner, Bootstrap Bill, if you will. Closer than acquaintance was Bill to Jack Sparrow, if truth be told. Bootstrap Bill was Jack's older brother, or so Bill insisted. Ever since Jack could remember, he had had no family.
Waiting for him at Tortuga, as the Black Pearl docked with his old crew some four years ago, was a man named William Turner. He eyed Jack closely and insisted from then on that Jack Sparrow was indeed a boy named Jack Turner. Captain Sparrow would never much have vied for the sanity of this weathered man, but he took a liking to him, and kept him on board the Black Pearl for a few short years. He said he'd left behind his family, wife and child on an island, Rockwell. His boy was only ten when he'd left them.
William insisted that he had been searching for his lost brother for years upon years, and that he had a son 8 years before this Jack Turner had gone missing.
All was peaceful on the sea of the Caribbean. The small waves gently rocked the boat back and forth. The ship was heading to Tortuga. After meeting Will Turner, the son of Bootstrap Bill, Jack and a woman to see. She was an old friend indeed. She would tell him once and for all what he was most scared to ask her of. His past.
The farthest thing back he could remember was being a pirate. A young pirate, but a pirate none the less. Aboard a ship called the Grey Lady. He had made a name for himself as the years went by, finally leading him to the Captainship of the Black Pearl.
It wasn't his for a time, but he tends to let those times slip through his mind, regarding them as a temporary mishap.
It was time to return to his bed, the Captain must get his rest as well as anyone else. Jack went and knocked on Ana Maria's cabin, asking her to take the helm for the rest of the night. He returned to his own cabin after she consented, and felt for his matches in one of his many pockets. Jack lit a small candle in his cabin, his mind still alive, his body exhausted.
Dark eyes lined with coal stared into the burning flicker for maybe an hour, thoughts still brooding in his mysterious head. He had had lovers in his life, Tortuga being the place it is, and rum being the beverage of choice. But Sparrow had never, and would never find love. Each woman he saw he felt little interest, though he was a charmer, and had a few women still left with the dust in their eyes from his flying footprints. Every time he loved another woman, he felt as though he were chasing a ghost, a ghost long lost.
He shook his head, his beaded hair shaking with it, making clinking noises. His palm outstretched, Jack clasped a fist around the lit candle, and the room was dark, rocking slowly. The noises of the sea sang him to sleep after awhile.
He was running, through a forest of some sort, chasing a woman in a white dress. He had had this dream many times before. He caught a glint of red hair through the darkened woods. She was laughing as she ran, the lilting laughter falling off of her soft breath. She never saw him, though. This always disturbed him. But he would chase her through all his dreams. Mostly in the forest, sometimes on a beach. Every now and then he would catch a little glimpse of her. But she was always so far ahead.
This dream had never bothered him hugely before, but now that his thoughts were focused so much on seeing the Mistress, as she called herself, he couldn't help but wonder even in his dream. He knew he was dreaming, he had a lot of control over himself, but not over her. In his thoughts he willed her to turn around, thought about it with his entire mind. She would never turn around for him. He was doomed to chase her for forever.
He felt young in this dream, very young. She was not too old herself. "Lady!" He cried out to her, "Please, what is your name!" She just laughed, the laugh carrying back to him on the wind. There was just no use in chasing her. Jack walked after the direction she had gone in, finding nothing particular, but some ways in the distance there was a clearing. He sped up a bit once he got near it, and found himself on a beach. Waves were crashing down, and it was storming now. It was dark, but it seemed too bright for him to see far out into the sea. Finally, the blinding light lessened, and he saw a speck of white running out into the sea, beginning to swim. He almost called out to her again, but knew it would be of no use.
His surroundings seemed to be rocking. A beach, rocking? He sat down, unsure of what was happening, and then the blinding light returned, he lay back, and squinting, opened his eyes into the light.
Not only light, but sound as well flooded Captain Jack Sparrow's senses. Things were busy aboard the Black Pearl, voices were yelling and people were stomping about. There was a loud knock at his door.
"Aye?" He called, seeming slightly annoyed, perhaps just cranky.
"Aye! Get up and handle yer own ship! I 'aven't slept at all! I'm goin ta bed!" The voice was both rough and shrill at the same time.
Jack stretched and sighed, "Ah, lovely Ana Maria." He could tell by the lack of further words that she had already gone and done as she said she would. She was a bit of a firecracker, that one. Never could tell what she was thinking. Then again, that may be all women, not that Jack had known a lot of women as more than one night acquaintances.
He shrugged and went to his little washing basin, full of ice-cold water, and rubbed his face, so as to wake up. A glance he gave down to his hands, and he shook them off with disgust as he saw them covered with black. "Bloody coal," he muttered, and as was his ritual about once a week, he shut his eyes and scraped a piece of dark coal over them, to protect them from the sun, or so he believed. Jack put on his Captain's coat, and left his cabin rather lazily.
A few of them men stared at him as he walked out, "Hard night, Cap'n? Ye look rather pale." Said a man named Connor.
Jack smirked at him, "Nay, it wasn't so bad, but the face washing this morning sure did me in, makin' me pale and all." Connor chuckled, as the glint in the Captain's eyes expected. Sparrow walked onward, to the helm of the ship, checking to make sure that all were hard at work.
He reached the front deck, and found it empty, as was to be expected, now that Ana Maria had retired.
Jack heard a scurrying, as someone following him, and he turned around, hands palm in palm behind his back. It was his first mate, Gibbs, who seemed just slightly out of breath as though he had been chasing Jack all around the ship. "We'll reach Tortuga by the night, Cap'n, I'm afraid."
"Afraid, Gibbs?" Jack raised an eyebrow just slightly.
"Aye, don't want ta end up with the pigs agin. Ya know how I got there don't ya? It was when I was on the run from 'Port Royal' meself. I 'ad a ship, well, that's sayin, I was on one for a time, and they, they bloody left me jis cause I gone and got drunk. Don't they know yer not s'posed ta leave till morning anyways?" Gibbs talked slowly, explaining himself and making sure he did it correctly.
"Aye, don't worry. We won't be leavin ya, you're a valuable commodity, you are." Gibbs just smiled and shook his head at the Captain, and turned away, beginning to walk back to his duty of, shall we say, micromanaging the ship.
So Captain Jack Sparrow, receiving his little morning report, leaned on the front of his ship, staring into the endless sea, as was the general ritual of the days and nights and the days and nights when nothing too interesting is happening.
(A/N: Note that William Turner is twenty-five when he leaves Rockwell, and ten years older than Jack Turner.)
He sailed out into the distance, mesmerized by the sea. This man's dark eyes reflected the dark sea of the night below. He stood at the bow of the Black Pearl, silent for quite a time, apparently lost completely in his thoughts.
Jack Sparrow thought of his ship, his crew, and of his freedom. Thoughts crossed came to him about Will Turner and Elizabeth Swan every once in awhile, bringing a small smirk to his face. "Nice hat," he muttered to no one but the wind.
Will Turner. That name made him think of William Turner, Bootstrap Bill, if you will. Closer than acquaintance was Bill to Jack Sparrow, if truth be told. Bootstrap Bill was Jack's older brother, or so Bill insisted. Ever since Jack could remember, he had had no family.
Waiting for him at Tortuga, as the Black Pearl docked with his old crew some four years ago, was a man named William Turner. He eyed Jack closely and insisted from then on that Jack Sparrow was indeed a boy named Jack Turner. Captain Sparrow would never much have vied for the sanity of this weathered man, but he took a liking to him, and kept him on board the Black Pearl for a few short years. He said he'd left behind his family, wife and child on an island, Rockwell. His boy was only ten when he'd left them.
William insisted that he had been searching for his lost brother for years upon years, and that he had a son 8 years before this Jack Turner had gone missing.
All was peaceful on the sea of the Caribbean. The small waves gently rocked the boat back and forth. The ship was heading to Tortuga. After meeting Will Turner, the son of Bootstrap Bill, Jack and a woman to see. She was an old friend indeed. She would tell him once and for all what he was most scared to ask her of. His past.
The farthest thing back he could remember was being a pirate. A young pirate, but a pirate none the less. Aboard a ship called the Grey Lady. He had made a name for himself as the years went by, finally leading him to the Captainship of the Black Pearl.
It wasn't his for a time, but he tends to let those times slip through his mind, regarding them as a temporary mishap.
It was time to return to his bed, the Captain must get his rest as well as anyone else. Jack went and knocked on Ana Maria's cabin, asking her to take the helm for the rest of the night. He returned to his own cabin after she consented, and felt for his matches in one of his many pockets. Jack lit a small candle in his cabin, his mind still alive, his body exhausted.
Dark eyes lined with coal stared into the burning flicker for maybe an hour, thoughts still brooding in his mysterious head. He had had lovers in his life, Tortuga being the place it is, and rum being the beverage of choice. But Sparrow had never, and would never find love. Each woman he saw he felt little interest, though he was a charmer, and had a few women still left with the dust in their eyes from his flying footprints. Every time he loved another woman, he felt as though he were chasing a ghost, a ghost long lost.
He shook his head, his beaded hair shaking with it, making clinking noises. His palm outstretched, Jack clasped a fist around the lit candle, and the room was dark, rocking slowly. The noises of the sea sang him to sleep after awhile.
He was running, through a forest of some sort, chasing a woman in a white dress. He had had this dream many times before. He caught a glint of red hair through the darkened woods. She was laughing as she ran, the lilting laughter falling off of her soft breath. She never saw him, though. This always disturbed him. But he would chase her through all his dreams. Mostly in the forest, sometimes on a beach. Every now and then he would catch a little glimpse of her. But she was always so far ahead.
This dream had never bothered him hugely before, but now that his thoughts were focused so much on seeing the Mistress, as she called herself, he couldn't help but wonder even in his dream. He knew he was dreaming, he had a lot of control over himself, but not over her. In his thoughts he willed her to turn around, thought about it with his entire mind. She would never turn around for him. He was doomed to chase her for forever.
He felt young in this dream, very young. She was not too old herself. "Lady!" He cried out to her, "Please, what is your name!" She just laughed, the laugh carrying back to him on the wind. There was just no use in chasing her. Jack walked after the direction she had gone in, finding nothing particular, but some ways in the distance there was a clearing. He sped up a bit once he got near it, and found himself on a beach. Waves were crashing down, and it was storming now. It was dark, but it seemed too bright for him to see far out into the sea. Finally, the blinding light lessened, and he saw a speck of white running out into the sea, beginning to swim. He almost called out to her again, but knew it would be of no use.
His surroundings seemed to be rocking. A beach, rocking? He sat down, unsure of what was happening, and then the blinding light returned, he lay back, and squinting, opened his eyes into the light.
Not only light, but sound as well flooded Captain Jack Sparrow's senses. Things were busy aboard the Black Pearl, voices were yelling and people were stomping about. There was a loud knock at his door.
"Aye?" He called, seeming slightly annoyed, perhaps just cranky.
"Aye! Get up and handle yer own ship! I 'aven't slept at all! I'm goin ta bed!" The voice was both rough and shrill at the same time.
Jack stretched and sighed, "Ah, lovely Ana Maria." He could tell by the lack of further words that she had already gone and done as she said she would. She was a bit of a firecracker, that one. Never could tell what she was thinking. Then again, that may be all women, not that Jack had known a lot of women as more than one night acquaintances.
He shrugged and went to his little washing basin, full of ice-cold water, and rubbed his face, so as to wake up. A glance he gave down to his hands, and he shook them off with disgust as he saw them covered with black. "Bloody coal," he muttered, and as was his ritual about once a week, he shut his eyes and scraped a piece of dark coal over them, to protect them from the sun, or so he believed. Jack put on his Captain's coat, and left his cabin rather lazily.
A few of them men stared at him as he walked out, "Hard night, Cap'n? Ye look rather pale." Said a man named Connor.
Jack smirked at him, "Nay, it wasn't so bad, but the face washing this morning sure did me in, makin' me pale and all." Connor chuckled, as the glint in the Captain's eyes expected. Sparrow walked onward, to the helm of the ship, checking to make sure that all were hard at work.
He reached the front deck, and found it empty, as was to be expected, now that Ana Maria had retired.
Jack heard a scurrying, as someone following him, and he turned around, hands palm in palm behind his back. It was his first mate, Gibbs, who seemed just slightly out of breath as though he had been chasing Jack all around the ship. "We'll reach Tortuga by the night, Cap'n, I'm afraid."
"Afraid, Gibbs?" Jack raised an eyebrow just slightly.
"Aye, don't want ta end up with the pigs agin. Ya know how I got there don't ya? It was when I was on the run from 'Port Royal' meself. I 'ad a ship, well, that's sayin, I was on one for a time, and they, they bloody left me jis cause I gone and got drunk. Don't they know yer not s'posed ta leave till morning anyways?" Gibbs talked slowly, explaining himself and making sure he did it correctly.
"Aye, don't worry. We won't be leavin ya, you're a valuable commodity, you are." Gibbs just smiled and shook his head at the Captain, and turned away, beginning to walk back to his duty of, shall we say, micromanaging the ship.
So Captain Jack Sparrow, receiving his little morning report, leaned on the front of his ship, staring into the endless sea, as was the general ritual of the days and nights and the days and nights when nothing too interesting is happening.