Disclaimer - I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean. And from now on, that
disclaimer is a given.
Thanks for the reviews!
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"You're Captain Maynard Hawk!"
"That I am, lad," the captain responded proudly. "And what be yer name?"
"Jack, sir," he replied, taking the man's offered hand with his much smaller one. "Jack Thompson."
"And you work here?"
"All me life."
"And how long be that? Twelve years did ye say?"
"Aye," Jack nodded.
"Ah," said the man, scratching his beard. "Twelve years... And yer mother? She works here too, I assume?" At Jack's nod, he continued questioning. "Thompson... She wouldn't be Miss Bethany Thompson, now would she?"
"Well, yes, sir, that is her name."
Maynard leaned forward, looking Jack over carefully, still stroking his whiskered chin. Sensing he was being inspected, Jack lifted his chin proudly and met the man's clear eyes with his own. Deep brown met blue, yet despite the clash in color, the two pairs of eyes held something similar, the same solemn yearning and determination, the same secret amusement and confidence, the same strange intensity that others often mistook for madness. The silent search went on for another moment, then the captain, seemingly satisfied, leaned back in his chair, his demeanor instantly switching into ease and contentedness.
"Well, young Jack, that was quite a clever little performance just now. I must say, you've made me day. T'was not goin' so well up till then I've got to admit. Didn't expect anythin' unusual happenin' in this old place, but here you are. Quite the charismatic little blighter, aren't you? That's was the biggest laugh I've had in a while, so thanks for that, mate. Also didn't mind seein' ole' Granger getting' put in his place," he added with a chuckle.
Jack grinned. "Glad to be of service, Captain."
"Here's that beer ye was askin' for, Captain," said a young man approaching the table, in a clear, pleasant voice.
"Ah, thanks, Bill," said Maynard, taking the tankard and sliding it over to Jack. Seeing Jack reach into his pockets, he quickly added, "Don't worry. It's on me, mate. Why don't you have a seat Bill?"
The young man nodded and sat down beside Jack.
"Jack, this be William Turner, one me crew. Bill, this here's Jack Thompson, my new small friend."
Swallowing his protest at such a condescending title, Jack shook hands with the pirate beside him. He didn't look all that much older than Jack himself, ten years at most. Looking at him, Jack was disappointed to find that his brilliant idea of the "pretty pirate" had already been carried out by someone else. Bill Turner was a strong but lean, clean-shaven lad in his late teens with curly, black hair emerging from under a bandana to frame an honest face and warm, chocolate-brown eyes.
Bill raised an amused eyebrow at meeting this strange youngster, which confused Jack for a moment. He had nearly forgotten that only a moment ago he had been standing upon a table, addressing the entire room with a ridiculous speech declaring his entrance into prostitution. He laughed a little at his own boldness and shrugged. Bill shook his head and smiled, taking a swig at his glass. Jack and Captain Maynard followed suit and the three felt quite content and comfortable.
"You said yer day hadn't been goin' too well before, sir. Why was that?" asked Jack, turning his attention back to the older man.
"Ah, well," Maynard sighed and looked at Bill. "Things didn't quite work out as planned on our last voyage, and it's always a disappointment coming home unsuccessful."
Jack looked questioningly at him, but he did not embellish. Bill however, seeing Jack's unvoiced questions, spoke up eagerly. "Well, we was plannin' on headin' to the Isle de Muerta, and there's a lot of legend surrounding that island, said to be absolutely flooded with treasure. But you see, no one knows where exactly it is, and it's said no one can find it unless they've been there before. Obviously that makes the whole thing quite difficult, perhaps impossible. But Hawk here found this man, a pirate called Jonesy, 'oo said that he's been there and stood upon the island himself. Of course, he's rather old and I suppose he must be out of his mind, because he had no idea where he was going. We ended up goin' in circles for months until the men started getting' real anxious and the captain here decided we'd better head back before things got too ugly. And now more'n half the crew's not gonna' be boardin' with us when we depart again, due to the way things worked out this last time."
Bill, finished with his enthusiastic narrative, turned back to his drink, but stopped with the glass halfway to his lips, noticing that his captain was staring at him. The older man's face was expressionless, but the meaning behind it was clear. He blinked and continued looking at his young mate in a sort of patient frustration, wordlessly informing Bill what an idiot he was, blurting out the entire story to a stranger for no reason. Shrewdness was apparently not the younger pirate's strong point. He at least had the decency to look a little ashamed as he realized what he had done.
Jack watched the exchange with interest and amusement. "Don't worry, mate," he said with a half-smile. "It's not as if I'm really a big threat."
"With that mouth of yours?" asked the captain with raised eyebrows. "Of course you are." But he smirked as he said it and Jack felt he somehow had the older man's trust. "It wasn't a real blunder anyway. Ye gave nothing of great importance away there, Bill, it's alright. But it's the principle of the thing. Just a bad habit we've got to break, eh?"
Bill smiled despite himself, still looking a little abashed and hid his face in his drink again. Deciding it would be best to change the subject, Jack took another sip of his beer and looked at his two new friends. "What's it like? Being a pirate..?"
"That's rather a broad topic, mate. What do you want to know?"
Jack shrugged. "Everythin'. Anythin'. Tell me what it's like to not be stuck here."
Bill gladly complied and began to tell him dozens of stories, about his becoming a pirate, about sailing a ship and why some ships were better than others, about battles with clashing bands of pirates, or redcoats trying to have them arrested, and adventures for treasure, and night-raids in villages, and staying up drinking and singing and many other things. Maynard gladly joined in on the telling of many of these stories and told a few of his own as well. Jack listened to them, jealous and awed of the excitement, danger, glory and freedom of their lives.
The three got along very well and Jack was disappointed when finally it was time for the tavern to close, and his new friends to return to their ship for the night. He wiped down the tables and stacked the chairs absentmindedly, eventually getting up to his room and climbing into bed with an odd mixture of sadness and delight. Hearing them talk, he felt an aching sense of longing, a need to get out somehow, to be able to go wherever he wanted and do whatever he pleased, to live on whims rather than routine, to see the world... Yet a strong, irrepressible hope rose in him, telling him he would leave someday, and become a great, renowned and feared pirate, and his mind was filled with wonderful dreams of the future.
The marvelous camaraderie he had enjoyed with the two men that evening served to make him feel a little more lonely than before now that they were gone and he realized everyone else around him in his daily life merely tolerated him. Sitting at that table, drinking, laughing, listening to stories, Jack felt accepted and comfortable; he felt at home. That was the life for him, that was where he belonged. Not a troublesome burden to his mother and the other women of the tavern, not a conscientious bartender and innkeeper - but a pirate, a leaf fluttering in the air wherever the wind would take it.
Thanks for the reviews!
________________________________________________________________________
"You're Captain Maynard Hawk!"
"That I am, lad," the captain responded proudly. "And what be yer name?"
"Jack, sir," he replied, taking the man's offered hand with his much smaller one. "Jack Thompson."
"And you work here?"
"All me life."
"And how long be that? Twelve years did ye say?"
"Aye," Jack nodded.
"Ah," said the man, scratching his beard. "Twelve years... And yer mother? She works here too, I assume?" At Jack's nod, he continued questioning. "Thompson... She wouldn't be Miss Bethany Thompson, now would she?"
"Well, yes, sir, that is her name."
Maynard leaned forward, looking Jack over carefully, still stroking his whiskered chin. Sensing he was being inspected, Jack lifted his chin proudly and met the man's clear eyes with his own. Deep brown met blue, yet despite the clash in color, the two pairs of eyes held something similar, the same solemn yearning and determination, the same secret amusement and confidence, the same strange intensity that others often mistook for madness. The silent search went on for another moment, then the captain, seemingly satisfied, leaned back in his chair, his demeanor instantly switching into ease and contentedness.
"Well, young Jack, that was quite a clever little performance just now. I must say, you've made me day. T'was not goin' so well up till then I've got to admit. Didn't expect anythin' unusual happenin' in this old place, but here you are. Quite the charismatic little blighter, aren't you? That's was the biggest laugh I've had in a while, so thanks for that, mate. Also didn't mind seein' ole' Granger getting' put in his place," he added with a chuckle.
Jack grinned. "Glad to be of service, Captain."
"Here's that beer ye was askin' for, Captain," said a young man approaching the table, in a clear, pleasant voice.
"Ah, thanks, Bill," said Maynard, taking the tankard and sliding it over to Jack. Seeing Jack reach into his pockets, he quickly added, "Don't worry. It's on me, mate. Why don't you have a seat Bill?"
The young man nodded and sat down beside Jack.
"Jack, this be William Turner, one me crew. Bill, this here's Jack Thompson, my new small friend."
Swallowing his protest at such a condescending title, Jack shook hands with the pirate beside him. He didn't look all that much older than Jack himself, ten years at most. Looking at him, Jack was disappointed to find that his brilliant idea of the "pretty pirate" had already been carried out by someone else. Bill Turner was a strong but lean, clean-shaven lad in his late teens with curly, black hair emerging from under a bandana to frame an honest face and warm, chocolate-brown eyes.
Bill raised an amused eyebrow at meeting this strange youngster, which confused Jack for a moment. He had nearly forgotten that only a moment ago he had been standing upon a table, addressing the entire room with a ridiculous speech declaring his entrance into prostitution. He laughed a little at his own boldness and shrugged. Bill shook his head and smiled, taking a swig at his glass. Jack and Captain Maynard followed suit and the three felt quite content and comfortable.
"You said yer day hadn't been goin' too well before, sir. Why was that?" asked Jack, turning his attention back to the older man.
"Ah, well," Maynard sighed and looked at Bill. "Things didn't quite work out as planned on our last voyage, and it's always a disappointment coming home unsuccessful."
Jack looked questioningly at him, but he did not embellish. Bill however, seeing Jack's unvoiced questions, spoke up eagerly. "Well, we was plannin' on headin' to the Isle de Muerta, and there's a lot of legend surrounding that island, said to be absolutely flooded with treasure. But you see, no one knows where exactly it is, and it's said no one can find it unless they've been there before. Obviously that makes the whole thing quite difficult, perhaps impossible. But Hawk here found this man, a pirate called Jonesy, 'oo said that he's been there and stood upon the island himself. Of course, he's rather old and I suppose he must be out of his mind, because he had no idea where he was going. We ended up goin' in circles for months until the men started getting' real anxious and the captain here decided we'd better head back before things got too ugly. And now more'n half the crew's not gonna' be boardin' with us when we depart again, due to the way things worked out this last time."
Bill, finished with his enthusiastic narrative, turned back to his drink, but stopped with the glass halfway to his lips, noticing that his captain was staring at him. The older man's face was expressionless, but the meaning behind it was clear. He blinked and continued looking at his young mate in a sort of patient frustration, wordlessly informing Bill what an idiot he was, blurting out the entire story to a stranger for no reason. Shrewdness was apparently not the younger pirate's strong point. He at least had the decency to look a little ashamed as he realized what he had done.
Jack watched the exchange with interest and amusement. "Don't worry, mate," he said with a half-smile. "It's not as if I'm really a big threat."
"With that mouth of yours?" asked the captain with raised eyebrows. "Of course you are." But he smirked as he said it and Jack felt he somehow had the older man's trust. "It wasn't a real blunder anyway. Ye gave nothing of great importance away there, Bill, it's alright. But it's the principle of the thing. Just a bad habit we've got to break, eh?"
Bill smiled despite himself, still looking a little abashed and hid his face in his drink again. Deciding it would be best to change the subject, Jack took another sip of his beer and looked at his two new friends. "What's it like? Being a pirate..?"
"That's rather a broad topic, mate. What do you want to know?"
Jack shrugged. "Everythin'. Anythin'. Tell me what it's like to not be stuck here."
Bill gladly complied and began to tell him dozens of stories, about his becoming a pirate, about sailing a ship and why some ships were better than others, about battles with clashing bands of pirates, or redcoats trying to have them arrested, and adventures for treasure, and night-raids in villages, and staying up drinking and singing and many other things. Maynard gladly joined in on the telling of many of these stories and told a few of his own as well. Jack listened to them, jealous and awed of the excitement, danger, glory and freedom of their lives.
The three got along very well and Jack was disappointed when finally it was time for the tavern to close, and his new friends to return to their ship for the night. He wiped down the tables and stacked the chairs absentmindedly, eventually getting up to his room and climbing into bed with an odd mixture of sadness and delight. Hearing them talk, he felt an aching sense of longing, a need to get out somehow, to be able to go wherever he wanted and do whatever he pleased, to live on whims rather than routine, to see the world... Yet a strong, irrepressible hope rose in him, telling him he would leave someday, and become a great, renowned and feared pirate, and his mind was filled with wonderful dreams of the future.
The marvelous camaraderie he had enjoyed with the two men that evening served to make him feel a little more lonely than before now that they were gone and he realized everyone else around him in his daily life merely tolerated him. Sitting at that table, drinking, laughing, listening to stories, Jack felt accepted and comfortable; he felt at home. That was the life for him, that was where he belonged. Not a troublesome burden to his mother and the other women of the tavern, not a conscientious bartender and innkeeper - but a pirate, a leaf fluttering in the air wherever the wind would take it.