Chapter 3 - Tortuga
The hills of Tortuga were shrouded in mist when the Black Pearl approached it. The sun was hidden behind the clouds, far down to the west. It was near dark, and lights began to come on. The Captain of the Black Pearl felt a certain calm within himself, as though he was reminded of a different time, a peaceful time. As they docked, he went about in a haze, walking around the ship in an almost drunken manner.
He seemed rather disoriented until his best drinking buddy came up to him, ready to head to the taverns for a night on the town. "Ya ready, cap'n? Ye haven't been out for a proper night in Tortuga in ages. That little visit ye had to fetch me and the crew didn't count for much."
Jack half-smiled and cocked his hat, his thoughts of the Mistress drawn far away from him, with the taste of rum in the very air of Tortuga. "Aye."
They found themselves soon off of the Pearl and into the midst of the Tortuga nightlife. There were 'ladies of the night' on every corner, a few of whom Jack recognized and gave a quaint smile to, not a bit of shame in his grin. They batted their lashes and showed their bosoms, but he said nothing to them on this visit.
"She's a cute one to be sure. That one over there." Jack looked in the direction that Gibbs was pointing to; a saucy red head was walking over to them, rather haughtily. Within seconds she had reached them, and raised back her hand to slap Jack, again.
"Jack Sparrow, you are the most infuriating pirate in all of the…" Jack caught her hand mid-swing.
"It's Captain, love. Captain Jack Sparrow." He said with that smile of his.
She looked rather haughty at the whole matter, her cheeks a natural rouge for once, but her skin still ghostly pale. He appraised her, she was a lovely girl. If only she had some sort of personality, he would have been able to put up with her for two seconds. "I swear, you are the most…"
Jack gave her a warning look and she raised a brow to him. He rolled his eyes and swaggered about just a little, letting go of her hand with a flippant and rather disgusted gesture. They seemed more the bickering brother and sister than anything else.
"Love I told you this a thousand times. I apologize." He gave a humbling bow as low as he could get to the ground. "Now if you will, please…" His voice trailed off as he made to move her out of the way.
The girl placed her hands on her hips, obviously refusing to move. He made a gesture over to his left, and behind her. "Love, I think you've got a customer, aye?" She didn't look a bit ashamed, and sighed a sigh that meant giving up, and walked over with a smile on her face to the nameless man holding a hand full of gold.
"Saucy, Mr. Gibbs, aye." But as he turned around, talking to Gibbs, he was nowhere to be seen. The Captain smiled and shook his head, knowing that the other man would already be down at the taverns. Where else?
He was about to walk into The Red Dragon, one of his favorites. If you wanted to feel the burn of the liquor in your chest, this was the place to go. Many men, and women, went there to forget, to feel they're suffering inside and out. He went there to feel the burn, to feel alive.
At the door he nearly tripped over a little girl, she was entirely out of place in this horrific scene. Or, at least, it should be horrific in the eyes of a child so small. She had a drink in her hands, a liquid of green. As they met eyes, she beckoned him to kneel down and talk to her, as if she had a secret to share with him.
He kneeled down, being the decent man he was, and she had a giddy smile upon her face, and a twinkle in her eyes, a twinkle which seemed almost familiar. She whispered to him, "It's a potion that I made." The girl giggled innocently and held it out for him to try. "Go on, it won't hurt you. It makes you see the faeries!"
Jack nodded his gesture and took the beverage, a happy grin on him the whole time. It was surprisingly sweet and base, not the fiery liquid he had been expecting for the last hours. She laughed and ran away, he only noticed then that she was clothed in a gown of white.
His mind became more erratic, and his thoughts lingered on the girl, thinking how she was far too young to be the girl that he chased in his dreams. He stayed kneeling for quite awhile, but eventually got up and started walking, away from the tavern. Cool moonlight shone down on him, and the wind rustled the trees. Jack walked quite a ways away from the town, until he didn't quite know where he was anymore.
Something had gotten to his head, and had hit him hard. He attempted to recall, and remembered vaguely that he hadn't drunk anything that night. Then he remembered the little girl, her sweet innocent face shining down on him as he knelt before her. "Red hair. Her hair was red." Jack stumped and he finally lay himself down in the sand, moonlight being the blanket upon Jack Sparrow that eve; he slipped into a light sleep, but one that was seemingly unavoidable.
"You alright, there?"
The morning light shone brightly past the Captain's lidded eyes, and he could feel the affects of last night. He paused in his thought. Last night? He never entered the tavern last night! Thoughts of the young girl rushed back into his head, and he gave a small smile before risking his sensitive eyes to the harsh light.
"I said, you alright, there?" He felt a kick on his side, and recognized the voice as female. He looked more closely at her as he squinted. She had long dark hair, falling to block some of the sun; it had gray streaks in it though. The woman must have been forty, but she still retained a sense of regal beauty to her; a strange quality for a Tortugan woman to have.
"Aye, aye, I'm up. And who might you be?" He turned a little, and expected to feel the rough sand stuck to the back of his shirt, but wherever he was, it was quite cushioned.
"The one, the only." He raised an eyebrow, and gave the lady a look of pure and unmasked confusion. She rolled her eyes, "Let me getcha a drink, and see if you feel good enough to recognize whom you've come to see then!"
The lady turned to go, and as her dress of black was sweeping along the wooden floor he had his epiphany. "Mistress! You're The Mistress. But, how did I get here then, eh? Las I remember I fell down to sleep at the beach."
"Didn't she tell ya? The drink it was supposed to make ya see 'The fairies." Her voice was hushed and mocking at the word fairies.
Sparrow looked again confused beyond all doubt and she walked back over to where he was. "The drink my girl gave ya was naught but a sleeping drought. Yeh didn't walk anywhere, or at least not far. She led you back here, not but a quarter of a mile out of the city."
He shook his head, "No no, I walked for miles and miles, and she ran off after she gave me the drink and I had dreams of a girl with red hair. I had dreams of Fi-." He caught himself and his black eyes gleamed, terrified. He had been another for a moment, if only just that moment. His train of thought was gone and he was lost again. He gripped his silver necklace, and wide-eyed, said to no one but himself in a small whisper, "I was almost home."
"Home, aye? Where is your home then lad, if not but here?" He gazed at her suspiciously, almost untrustingly.
"Who would know that but the Mistress herself, hmm?" Jack stood up; his boot buckles rattling slightly as they hit the floor. He seemed to be countering her, seeing right through her gaze.
She remained fairly tight-lipped, and ignored him, "I will get you you're drink now, Captain." The lady gave a mock-curtsy and walked swiftly out of the room.
Jack was left alone with his thoughts now, trying to regain that thought he had had; that second of seeming consciousness in a gallery of sleep and dreams. He began to sat down, but the second he had he stood back up and walked in the direction of the Mistress.
He called brashly, "Who's name was it that I said right now? Did I say a name? Did I say a place? I can't seem to remember what I was thinking of." There was no response, and he wandered farther through the house. The kitchen he passed through was ornately decorated, with large windows full of streaming sunlight. She was nowhere to be seen. A door at the end of a dark hall was cracked open just slightly, and there was a music box tune coming from there.
Jack ventured down this hallway, noting the multiple doors on either side of this dark place. As he reached the end he peered through the crack, inside it seemed a child's fantasy. The walls were lightwood, but onto them had been sketched large fairies and other winged creatures. They were flying above a sea, outlined in black below. His own fantasies mingled with the fantasy of this room, and he ventured to crack it open a little bit farther. The door creaked loudly, and as soon as it did it slammed shut, and he heard a scream from down the hall. It was one of pain.
He turned around with only slight reluctance, to run to the place where the scream had come from. Jack found the Mistress on the floor, clutching her stomach. "How dare you!" Her shriek was in agony. He was horribly confused again. "Enter the chamber of my dead daughter!" She was crying amidst the screams.
"I . . . but I thought that it was . . . there was music." She glared at him with flashing eyes of the sea.
"There has been no music in there for years. There was no music." Her tone was still strained and angry. "You will find out what it is you came for on your own. Now leave! Run away from here, far away from here. Never return to my household." Her voice was menacing, and her eyes were swirling, becoming almost demonic.
Jack turned as she said, wishing that he could have just had another look at the room of mysteries. But she had alarmed him as well, and he knew that in the house of a gifted one, there had to be some . . . supernatural troubles. Quickly enough he found his way back to the front door, the sobs and screams were silenced. Before he touched the handle he hesitated for a moment, listening, hardly breathing. He could hear nothing. It was eerie. Jack opened the door and shut it behind him, and began walking, looking for a vision of the city he knew so well.
After he had gone not a hundred feet through what might have well as been a desert, he turned around to take a last glance at the haunted house. It was gone. Jack made a wide circle, looking for something, anything on the horizon. There was nothing to be seen. Jack swirled around, forgetting which direction he had been going in the first place. He was . . . lost. Jack Sparrow was lost.
The hills of Tortuga were shrouded in mist when the Black Pearl approached it. The sun was hidden behind the clouds, far down to the west. It was near dark, and lights began to come on. The Captain of the Black Pearl felt a certain calm within himself, as though he was reminded of a different time, a peaceful time. As they docked, he went about in a haze, walking around the ship in an almost drunken manner.
He seemed rather disoriented until his best drinking buddy came up to him, ready to head to the taverns for a night on the town. "Ya ready, cap'n? Ye haven't been out for a proper night in Tortuga in ages. That little visit ye had to fetch me and the crew didn't count for much."
Jack half-smiled and cocked his hat, his thoughts of the Mistress drawn far away from him, with the taste of rum in the very air of Tortuga. "Aye."
They found themselves soon off of the Pearl and into the midst of the Tortuga nightlife. There were 'ladies of the night' on every corner, a few of whom Jack recognized and gave a quaint smile to, not a bit of shame in his grin. They batted their lashes and showed their bosoms, but he said nothing to them on this visit.
"She's a cute one to be sure. That one over there." Jack looked in the direction that Gibbs was pointing to; a saucy red head was walking over to them, rather haughtily. Within seconds she had reached them, and raised back her hand to slap Jack, again.
"Jack Sparrow, you are the most infuriating pirate in all of the…" Jack caught her hand mid-swing.
"It's Captain, love. Captain Jack Sparrow." He said with that smile of his.
She looked rather haughty at the whole matter, her cheeks a natural rouge for once, but her skin still ghostly pale. He appraised her, she was a lovely girl. If only she had some sort of personality, he would have been able to put up with her for two seconds. "I swear, you are the most…"
Jack gave her a warning look and she raised a brow to him. He rolled his eyes and swaggered about just a little, letting go of her hand with a flippant and rather disgusted gesture. They seemed more the bickering brother and sister than anything else.
"Love I told you this a thousand times. I apologize." He gave a humbling bow as low as he could get to the ground. "Now if you will, please…" His voice trailed off as he made to move her out of the way.
The girl placed her hands on her hips, obviously refusing to move. He made a gesture over to his left, and behind her. "Love, I think you've got a customer, aye?" She didn't look a bit ashamed, and sighed a sigh that meant giving up, and walked over with a smile on her face to the nameless man holding a hand full of gold.
"Saucy, Mr. Gibbs, aye." But as he turned around, talking to Gibbs, he was nowhere to be seen. The Captain smiled and shook his head, knowing that the other man would already be down at the taverns. Where else?
He was about to walk into The Red Dragon, one of his favorites. If you wanted to feel the burn of the liquor in your chest, this was the place to go. Many men, and women, went there to forget, to feel they're suffering inside and out. He went there to feel the burn, to feel alive.
At the door he nearly tripped over a little girl, she was entirely out of place in this horrific scene. Or, at least, it should be horrific in the eyes of a child so small. She had a drink in her hands, a liquid of green. As they met eyes, she beckoned him to kneel down and talk to her, as if she had a secret to share with him.
He kneeled down, being the decent man he was, and she had a giddy smile upon her face, and a twinkle in her eyes, a twinkle which seemed almost familiar. She whispered to him, "It's a potion that I made." The girl giggled innocently and held it out for him to try. "Go on, it won't hurt you. It makes you see the faeries!"
Jack nodded his gesture and took the beverage, a happy grin on him the whole time. It was surprisingly sweet and base, not the fiery liquid he had been expecting for the last hours. She laughed and ran away, he only noticed then that she was clothed in a gown of white.
His mind became more erratic, and his thoughts lingered on the girl, thinking how she was far too young to be the girl that he chased in his dreams. He stayed kneeling for quite awhile, but eventually got up and started walking, away from the tavern. Cool moonlight shone down on him, and the wind rustled the trees. Jack walked quite a ways away from the town, until he didn't quite know where he was anymore.
Something had gotten to his head, and had hit him hard. He attempted to recall, and remembered vaguely that he hadn't drunk anything that night. Then he remembered the little girl, her sweet innocent face shining down on him as he knelt before her. "Red hair. Her hair was red." Jack stumped and he finally lay himself down in the sand, moonlight being the blanket upon Jack Sparrow that eve; he slipped into a light sleep, but one that was seemingly unavoidable.
"You alright, there?"
The morning light shone brightly past the Captain's lidded eyes, and he could feel the affects of last night. He paused in his thought. Last night? He never entered the tavern last night! Thoughts of the young girl rushed back into his head, and he gave a small smile before risking his sensitive eyes to the harsh light.
"I said, you alright, there?" He felt a kick on his side, and recognized the voice as female. He looked more closely at her as he squinted. She had long dark hair, falling to block some of the sun; it had gray streaks in it though. The woman must have been forty, but she still retained a sense of regal beauty to her; a strange quality for a Tortugan woman to have.
"Aye, aye, I'm up. And who might you be?" He turned a little, and expected to feel the rough sand stuck to the back of his shirt, but wherever he was, it was quite cushioned.
"The one, the only." He raised an eyebrow, and gave the lady a look of pure and unmasked confusion. She rolled her eyes, "Let me getcha a drink, and see if you feel good enough to recognize whom you've come to see then!"
The lady turned to go, and as her dress of black was sweeping along the wooden floor he had his epiphany. "Mistress! You're The Mistress. But, how did I get here then, eh? Las I remember I fell down to sleep at the beach."
"Didn't she tell ya? The drink it was supposed to make ya see 'The fairies." Her voice was hushed and mocking at the word fairies.
Sparrow looked again confused beyond all doubt and she walked back over to where he was. "The drink my girl gave ya was naught but a sleeping drought. Yeh didn't walk anywhere, or at least not far. She led you back here, not but a quarter of a mile out of the city."
He shook his head, "No no, I walked for miles and miles, and she ran off after she gave me the drink and I had dreams of a girl with red hair. I had dreams of Fi-." He caught himself and his black eyes gleamed, terrified. He had been another for a moment, if only just that moment. His train of thought was gone and he was lost again. He gripped his silver necklace, and wide-eyed, said to no one but himself in a small whisper, "I was almost home."
"Home, aye? Where is your home then lad, if not but here?" He gazed at her suspiciously, almost untrustingly.
"Who would know that but the Mistress herself, hmm?" Jack stood up; his boot buckles rattling slightly as they hit the floor. He seemed to be countering her, seeing right through her gaze.
She remained fairly tight-lipped, and ignored him, "I will get you you're drink now, Captain." The lady gave a mock-curtsy and walked swiftly out of the room.
Jack was left alone with his thoughts now, trying to regain that thought he had had; that second of seeming consciousness in a gallery of sleep and dreams. He began to sat down, but the second he had he stood back up and walked in the direction of the Mistress.
He called brashly, "Who's name was it that I said right now? Did I say a name? Did I say a place? I can't seem to remember what I was thinking of." There was no response, and he wandered farther through the house. The kitchen he passed through was ornately decorated, with large windows full of streaming sunlight. She was nowhere to be seen. A door at the end of a dark hall was cracked open just slightly, and there was a music box tune coming from there.
Jack ventured down this hallway, noting the multiple doors on either side of this dark place. As he reached the end he peered through the crack, inside it seemed a child's fantasy. The walls were lightwood, but onto them had been sketched large fairies and other winged creatures. They were flying above a sea, outlined in black below. His own fantasies mingled with the fantasy of this room, and he ventured to crack it open a little bit farther. The door creaked loudly, and as soon as it did it slammed shut, and he heard a scream from down the hall. It was one of pain.
He turned around with only slight reluctance, to run to the place where the scream had come from. Jack found the Mistress on the floor, clutching her stomach. "How dare you!" Her shriek was in agony. He was horribly confused again. "Enter the chamber of my dead daughter!" She was crying amidst the screams.
"I . . . but I thought that it was . . . there was music." She glared at him with flashing eyes of the sea.
"There has been no music in there for years. There was no music." Her tone was still strained and angry. "You will find out what it is you came for on your own. Now leave! Run away from here, far away from here. Never return to my household." Her voice was menacing, and her eyes were swirling, becoming almost demonic.
Jack turned as she said, wishing that he could have just had another look at the room of mysteries. But she had alarmed him as well, and he knew that in the house of a gifted one, there had to be some . . . supernatural troubles. Quickly enough he found his way back to the front door, the sobs and screams were silenced. Before he touched the handle he hesitated for a moment, listening, hardly breathing. He could hear nothing. It was eerie. Jack opened the door and shut it behind him, and began walking, looking for a vision of the city he knew so well.
After he had gone not a hundred feet through what might have well as been a desert, he turned around to take a last glance at the haunted house. It was gone. Jack made a wide circle, looking for something, anything on the horizon. There was nothing to be seen. Jack swirled around, forgetting which direction he had been going in the first place. He was . . . lost. Jack Sparrow was lost.