My other story is now at chapter two! Yes! Have fun reading!
Ch. 11 rum runners and rescues
Jack opened his eyes to the sight of the sun set casting the sky into blood red and pink colors, reflecting in the water until it seemed that the sky itself was injured. Rolling over, he was met by sand, the tide hitting his legs and soaking his boots through. Groaning, he tried to remember how he had managed to get to the island. Depression sank in and he sat up, reaching for the gun in his sash.
Jack placed the cold metal of the gun under his chin, his finger on the trigger. Should he? He was going to die anyway; he might as well get it over with and finish it now. A light breeze lifted his hair and he sighed, placing the gun on the sand beside himself and watching the horizon.
"There's still a chance someone will come." He said fairly to the thin air. "I mean, how long can it be? A day, two at the most." He laughed and rubbed his face.
"Yeah right Sparrow, the sun really has fried your brain. That gun beside you is your only way out." His stomach growled just then and he laughed maniacally. "Or starvation is another option, you can try that, see how it goes."
"Well, I'll live longer." He picked up the gun and pointed it at the ocean. "Maybe I can catch a fish." He snorted.
"Yeah, well, if the sea doesn't carry it away before you can grab it, saying you actually hit one, then what are you going to do tomorrow? Catch a bird or something by throwing the gun at it?" He laughed again, placing the gun in his mouth and cocking it. Squeezing his eyes shut, Jack waited a few seconds and pulled the trigger. It clicked but nothing happened.
The bullet was sitting in the sand beside him, he hadn't loaded it. Screaming with rage he loaded the gun and threw the gun behind him where it hit the sand with a soft thud. "And now, yer talking to yerself, great, just absolutely bloody great." He hissed and lay back on the sand, hand over his eyes. "That shot is meant for one man and no other. Not me...not yet...Barbossa. Barbossa will die..." He moaned and rolled over onto his stomach, propping his chin on a hand and watching the gun. "What about Fritz, I still got to kill him. He's not dead, I know it. He's waiting for me."
The trees swayed slightly in answer to his constant talking and Jack got up; testing his strength and hissing as his side began to throb again. The bleeding had stopped, a good thing, but I still hurt enough. He made his way to the center of the island where there was a small grassy plain and began picking up small twigs, grass bits, pieces of bark and rocks, intent on building a fire. He took the first load back to the beach and set back for a second. As he bent down to gather up a particularly sparse bit of grass, a plank of wood caught his eye.
It was pretty well concealed, and made him wonder weather there had been a shipwreck or something early. As he stooped to investigate though, a glint of something caught his eye. It was a trap door, which squeaked slightly as he pulled it up revealing a sandy staircase and a small square hole like a room underneath.
Climbing down carefully, Jack squinted through the dark letting his eyes adjust to the dimmer light and was astounded to see crate apon crate of bottles full of amber liquid. Moving forward, Jack grabbed one, popped the cork, and took a giant whiff, coughing at once. It was rum. Setting down the bottle, Jack began to count the crates.
"This island must a cache." He muttered, pulling a small crate off a larger one and prying off the top revealing more. "Who knows how long it'll be before they come back though so," He grabbed a few bottles and left the hole, closing the lid behind him and setting off for the beach. He set them down under a tree and made a fire as quickly as he could, trying to recall some of the lessons the men of the Catherine had given him all those years ago.
When he was done, Jack sat down with his bottles, pulled off the cork of one and lay down, pouring the liquid over his side and groaning as the sting of it filled his injury, numbing his one side to anything but the burn. "What the hell." He muttered, tipping it into his mouth and choking at the taste. He did it again and again, alternating between his side and him mouth until he was on the second bottle and fell asleep only when he had drained both and gone for a third and a fourth.
The next day and night Jack was to drunk to light a fire or do anything but lay on the beach, watching the horizon and muttering incoherently to himself about revenge. "He'll be sorry...hic...Barbossie an' Fritztner wi' tas' me blade. I'll ge' me Pear...lllll back an' be the bes'...damn pirate in the..." He gestured vaguely to the water before passing out.
There was something on the horizon, it looked like a large wave but he wasn't sure, his head was spinning to badly. There were dark shapes moving up the beach towards him. Jack sat up and immediately wished he hadn't. He'd been on this blasted beach for three full days, two of which almost completely passed out and now, to see people on the beach almost felt wrong.
"Son," Someone was slapping his face. "Son, can you hear me?" There was a man crouching next to him in the sand, his one hand holding Jack up, the other slapping him hard with every other word. "Son? He's drunk alright."
"Yeah an' e he's drinkin' all our rum." Another yelled. The man in front of Jack stopped and let him fall back to the sand.
"What?" A female voice this time, from the direction of the water, probably with some lifeboats. Oh great, he'd drunken all the rum and now they were going to kill him. "That's impossible!"
"Okay, maybe it was some. I count eleven...fourteen...eighteen...twenty-two bottles." Said the man near the trees. Jack opened his eyes and was able to make out a large fuzzy outline leaning over him and peering into his face.
"How long have you been here son?" The man asked. Jack tried to wrap his mind around the question. "How long?"
"Three...three...three...days." Jack managed to say. The man above him whistled.
"I be thinkin' we should leave 'im 'ere, let 'im die. Obviously someone did." There was some mummers of agreement around him and Jack turned his head to take in the others though he really couldn't make them out more then blurred shapes.
"No." He muttered. "I...have to...revenge."
The man above him leaned in closer and tapped his right cheek hard shaking him with out mercy. "Why should we take you?" He asked loudly making Jack's head pound harder then ever.
"I'll...work off...what I...drank, I can...read, write...an do other stuff. I've been...on a...pirate ship..." The man made a weird sound, "The Black Pearl."
"A pirate eh?" Jack closed his eyes again and waited. "Alright, we may need you for a few years, to pay off what you've drunk here." The man stood and suddenly two pairs of arms had seized him and were dragging him to his feet, his arms wrapped over their shoulders. Looking to his left her saw a kid around his age with short red hair, to his left a woman with long black hair. Before they had reached the boats, though, his world faded into darkness.
The first thing he became aware of was a soft and rhythmic ticking, like a clock. Opening his eyes slowly, his fuzzy vision revealed a roughly paneled wood room, beneath him a comfortable bed that rocked slightly with the obvious waves that tossed the ship. He groaned trying to remember what had happened prior to him ending up here.
Turning his head, he noticed a woman with dark hair sitting in the corner, hunched over a table with a dying candle beside her. She looked up at him, the pen she had been writing with suspended in mid air over a piece of parchment.
Jack took in her black hair that hung shoulder length and curly around her oval face almost masking her beautiful blue eyes. She watched him intensely for a moment and then asked, "Head ache?" Jack nodded, bringing a hand to his face and rubbing his eyes roughly. She sighed and began writing again, "Well, you sure drank enough."
"Where am I?" Jack muttered his voice scratchy.
"On the rum runner ship, the Lister." She replied. Jack closed his eyes again, feeling sick. "You must really like your rum Jack." He looked at her confused and she laughed lightly. "It's on your arm, under the tattoo of a robin."
"Sparrow." Jack corrected. "I'm Jack Sparrow." The woman set down her pen again, stood and went to a cabinet in the corner and pulled out a bowl of water and set it down on a small chair next to the bed. Out of the bowl she took out a white cloth which she rung out and then pressed to his face.
"Here you go Jack Sparrow," she said letting go of the cloth, which slipped down his face onto his chest. He picked it up and slapped it back on his face, covering his eyes to block out the light of the candles in the room.
"And who are you?" he asked quietly. He heard the creak of her chair as it took her weight again and a scratching of her pen on the paper.
"My name is Emmaline Haron, I'm the wife of the captain of this ship." She answered. Jack nodded and removed the cloth to look at the woman, she looked no older then he was.
"How old are you?" Jack asked. Emmaline glanced up at him, still writing what ever it was she was writing.
"Why?" She asked. Jack shook his head and replaced his cloth, soaking in its cold dampness.
"Just wondering, it just seems like he was a little old."
"That would be while you were lying almost dead on the beach?" Jack laughed. "No, you're right, he is a little older. But, Miguel, the captain, he's a good man, really."
"How old?" Jack asked. Emmaline chose not to reply. He was about to say more when the cabin door opened and Jack glance over to see the Captain standing in the doorway.
"He's awake?" He asked his wife. Emmaline nodded and continued writing. The man nodded and walked over to sit on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling son?" Jack shook his head and muttered something under his breath. "Head hurt?" Jack nodded and muttered again. "Well, no doubt." He took the cloth away from Jack's eyes so he could see him better.
The man had light brown hair that was graying in some places, mainly on the top where the hair was moving along the hair line, back towards the back of his head. His scruffy beard was also graying, outlining his fat rosy cheeks. Jack sat up and leaned against the headboard, taking a small glass of water that was offered to him.
"Thanks." He croaked, sipping the water until it was all gone and handed the glass back to him. "You are..."
"Captain Haron, you can call me Miguel, you probably met my wife," he indicated the dark haired woman in the corner at the table. "And I hope she's been taking care of you." Jack nodded, allowing a smile to play on his lips. "Now, we need to talk about payment for all the rum of mine that you drank." His smile died.
"I am truly sorry sir, you see..." Miguel held up his hand.
"What's done is done. I am a fair man, Jack." Jack covered the tattoo on his arm with out thinking about it and didn't even bother to ask how he had known his name. "I would like payment however. How long would you be willing to work on my ship?" Jack shrugged.
"As long as it will take to pay off any damage..." Miguel again stopped him.
"It's alright. Where are you from?" Jack pondered this question, wondering how far back the man wanted him to go.
"The pirate ship, Black Pearl." He said simply. The man shifted and watched him intensely. "I was also on the pirate ship Catherine."
"Only pirate ships?" Miguel asked. Jack nodded. "Where did you grow up? You seem to well spoken to be brought up on any ship."
"I was born and raised in Britain, the man who raised me was a commodore in the navy, my mother was a pirate along with my father." They talked all night until Jack was finally told to go to sleep.
The sun was warm and bright when he stepped from the room the next day. The cabin he had spent the night in was by far not as comfortable or as roomy as the one he had had on the Pearl, and he knew the crews quarters where he's be sleeping later would be even less so.
Emmaline worked at the far end, handing some crates to a young man around his age with flaming red hair and a noticeable scar above his left eye. She looked up at him but didn't acknowledge his presence. The boy with red hair also looked up and smiled slightly until Emmaline shoved the crate hard into his stomach, knocking him backwards a few steps. The boy got back his footing and turned his attention back to his job.
Jack's eyes swept over to the wheel where Miguel stood with a blond haired short man with cold brown eyes who stood glaring at Jack as though he'd insulted him. Jack shifted his shoulders uncomfortably and walked over to join them.
"Ah, there you are." Miguel said, a large smile on his face, "Our newest family member." Miguel grabbed Jack's hand and shook it before letting go and turning to the man beside him. "Jack, this is Ian, Ian, this is Jack." The man didn't shake hands with Jack but instead turned away and began playing with the ropes on the side of the ship. "John," Miguel called. The young red haired man strode over, a smile on his face, and held out his hand, which the young pirate shook.
"Hello, Jack." John said, "Is that your real name or is it John as well?" Jack smiled.
"My name's John, everyone calls me Jack." John smiled.
"Fair enough." He looked at the Captain, "Shall I show Jack where he'll be staying?" The captain nodded and John led Jack off the deck into the stuffy underbelly of the ship.
Below here there were four beds made on the floor, another behind a curtain. Jack set his stuff on one of the beds and said, "You and Ian sleep..."
"Here." John said. He walked around the room, stepping over a mattress and pointing to one with raggedy blankets and a bundle of cloths made into a pillow. "This one's mine," He pointed to another beside it, "This one's Ian's and that one," He pointed to the one behind the curtain, "That one was Ellie's." Jack raised an eyebrow.
"Ellie?" He asked. John nodded and moved to the curtain, drawing it aside and showing the small mattress behind. There were pinkish blankets on this one, ripped and faded in some places, a stuffed elephant on top next to a pillow that had been poorly sewn.
"She was killed, two weeks ago." He said sadly. "We've been havin' a hard time till you came along." He beamed at Jack and let the curtain fall back into its place. "And don't mind Ian, he's like that. Ellie was his girl." He giggled nervously, his hands twisting in his shirt folds. "A pirate eh? I bet that was exciting." Jack shrugged, eyes on the small crew quarters. "How long were you a pirate?"
"A few years." Jack said. He moved across the room to a small desk in the corner, the light from the deck above flooding down the staircase and illuminating it's surface strewn with bits of paper and a small amount of broken stationary.
"This ship won't be as grand as I'm sure your pirate ship was but," He said down on his mattress and sighed, "It's home."
Fritz moved towards him with Barbossa, a manic glint in his eyes, his arms wrapped around Lily who looked strangely like Scarlet. In the distance, Jack could see his beautiful Black Pearl pitching in high waves.
"What are you going ta do Sparrow? What are ya goin' to do? Get revenge?" Barbossa and Fritz laughed and Jack moved backwards, slipping on a tuft of grass. They were on the island he'd been marooned on.
"Jack! Help me!" Lily screamed, her sweet Irish voice moving through him. He drew his pistol and fired the shot hitting Fritz squarely between the eyes. He didn't die though, he was still coming, blood oozing from his forehead.
"Is that the best you can do Jack?" He asked. Jack hit a palm tree and came to a stop and so did Barbossa and Fritz with Lily held like a shield. "Bye." His knife cut across Lily's throat and blood sprayed at Jack, drenching his face, her terrified gasping screams ripping threw him.
Jack sat bolt upright, sweat running down his face. The room was dark, Ian and John's combined snores echoing through the almost bare room. He got to his feet and made his way to the deck, wanting the silence and cold of the night air above.
He found Emmaline at the ship's edge, a candle sitting in a dish next to her, bleeding candle wax down it's side, a book in her hand. Suddenly Jack remembered the book his father had written for his mother. It was still on the Pearl, hidden in the Captain's cabin behind the cabinet. He'd never finished it and knew he probably never would now.
He joined Emmaline at the edge, leaning on the rail beside her candle, not surprised when she didn't look up. "Who taught you to read?" He asked. Emmaline sighed.
"Who taught you to ask so many questions?" She licked her thumb and turned the page, eyes moving over it as she took in every word. "Ever since you came on the Lister all you've done is ask questions." Jack smiled and leaned in closer to look over her shoulder at the page she was now on.
"A romance novel?" He asked, reading a few lines. Emmaline inched away from him, bringing her candle with her and Jack didn't move to follow, instead turning his gaze back out to the moonlit ocean. "Will we be docking anywhere soon?" He asked. Emmaline shrugged simply in reply.
"Tortuga maybe, to stock up and move on to more private and simple inlets. There are some pubs we stock in Tortuga but also Port Royal, port Thomas..." Jack made a guttural sound and Emmaline looked at him coldly. "Fine, fine, you get the picture."
Jack rubbed a hand over his mouth and down his braided beard, cocking his head to the side slightly and rocking back and fourth, thinking while using his mad pirate routine with out even realizing it. Finally he spun around making Emmaline jump and rested on the railing, looking at her dead on. "Ye ever drunk on yer own stuff?" He slurred a slight smile on his face. Emmaline closed her book with a snap, a smile on her lips as well. She moved in closer, her mouth near his ear.
"No." And with that she walked away, her candle in hand.
For five years Jack sailed under Miguel, learning the trade of rum running, and smuggling other goods, drinking his fare share and working off what he drank. They'd been caught several times but he'd managed them out of it somehow. His mind, though, while always looking for new ways to insult and anger Ian, was always on two men, Barbossa and Fritz.
Every night he dreamed of two things, Barbossa and Fritz on their knees bagging for their lives on the deck of the Black Pearl, which was his, or else of holding Lily in his arms and calling her his own. Either way, when the chance to be a pirate again came, he took it.
One night in Tortuga, Miguel had stopped to make a usual pick up and delivery when Jack remembered Roger who he hadn't seen since taking his ship.
"I'll be back later." He muttered, walking away with Miguel calling after him that he had four hours until departure. Jack hadn't been off the Lister to explore Tortuga when they docked since the first month he had joined the crew and desperately hoped to see Roger and Scarlet.
A little woman with long blond curls and a mousy face ran into him outside a pub, her curls bouncing around her face, reflecting the glow from the pub's grungy windows. She giggled. "Hello, I'm Giselle, wanna go for some fun?" She pointed to the pub but Jack declined, stepping past her and heading up the street. An' if yer ever in Tortuga, jus' talk ta Marshie at Fanny's.
Fanny's was a small inn with an overgrown weedy garden and a dilapidated old white fence, the paint peeling off and laying in the grass like snowflakes. Jack ran his callused fingers along the top of the fence and smiled at the splitters prickling his skin. It reeked of rum and cheap perfume, exactly what he needed.
The door was heavier then it looked when he pushed it open into a bustling pub like atmosphere except this was like no pub he'd ever been in. Women danced on the tables pouring beer over the men who sat in chairs, the piano player in the corner also drunk, falling and drooling over the key board.
Jack crinkled his nose and walked past a woman who was singing to a man who was either passed out or dead in her lap and sat down on a bar stool, sweeping his long gray blue coat from under him. With out asking, the bar tender gave him a tankard of rum. Jack smiled, whipped the rim with his sleeve, took a sip then grabbed the man's sleeve as he made to walk away.
"I'm lookin' fer someone. Marshie." He said, pulling the bar man down low and getting real close to his face so they were only an inch apart. He loved scaring people and, as predicted, the man tensed up.
"Not here." He said. "Gone out." Jack swore.
"How bout Gibbs?"
"Ah, over there." The man pointed to the corner where there was a door. Jack raised an eyebrow and the man nodded vigorously. Letting go, he stood and followed the intended direction. It led to a barn. Thinking he was being led on, Jack walked along the dirty ally between the stalls and was stopped by the sounds of snoring.
Moving carefully, he edged his way to the side of a stall and peered over the edge. A scruffy man lay below, his chest rising and falling softly. "That's interesting." Jack muttered. He bent down, scooped up some straw from the ground beneath his feet and let it fall on the sleeping man's face. With a grunt, the man woke with a start; pulling a pistol from beside him and waving it around like a mad man.
With a shot, the gun went off and Jack ducked so the man couldn't see him. "Who's there? I'll gut ye, ye mangy cur of a sea dog! Come out and I'll cure..."
"Stop you stupid eunuch, are ye tryin' to kill me?" Jack screamed. The man's curses stopped, Jack heard a shifting and looked up from his crouched position to see the other peering over the edge of the stall, a sour look on his face.
"Bloody hell, whelp, what do ye think yer doin'? It's bad luck to be wakin' a man when e he's sleepin'!" The man roared.
"Obviously it's not good to my health either." Jack yelled back, "Ye almost killed me."
His head disappeared only for a moment before he stood in the doorway to Jack's stall. "Mary the holy mother, are ye daft, ye almost got yerself killed. Come sneakin' up on me like tha'."
Jack stood and straightened his jacket, brushing straw off the back, frowning. This had not started well. "I was looking for someone, Roger Gibbs. Ye seen him?" The man's expression darkened.
"He be me brother." He said stiffly, placing the pistol back in his sash, "He's dead." It took a moment for that to sink in but, once it had, it hit him like a wave, crashing against him and trying to crush him in shock.
"Dead?" Jack sat down again on the straw, sick. He'd been in Tortuga before, why hadn't he done something about seeing Roger then, when he had had time...when he was still alive? "You must be Joshamee?" The man nodded. "Roger talked about you."
The other man sat down beside him and Jack looked into the face of the brother of one of his best friends. They didn't look much alike. "You were with him? On the Catherine?" Jack nodded and Gibbs looked down at his arm where his tattoo was clearly visible, "Jack," He muttered, "Sparrow?"
Hey, hoped you liked it! Finally another! To my reviewers:
Alteng: Sorry about your household talking to you while you try and read, happens to me to so, no worries. Egar? No, worried you'll all get board and no one will review and my life will be a desaster! Kidding, but yes, worried would be it. I would have made a character development but, in my other story I explained it, I havn't had a lot of time lately. I try to pop em off best I can and see what happens in my short space of time. Not only the job but school, homework, readining for finals soon, writing this and training horses has got me tired. And I'm still fighting with my friend. Been a week! In my story, dealing with the mutainy, I kinda had Bill tell Jack. From what we hear, Bill's a good guy and I don't think he'd even let his worst enimy stand up to an angry crew with out notice. Barbossa, in mine, kinda knew Jack knew and sent in Pintel and Ragetti to fish him out. I'm not going to re-write this story, don't really need to, it's just fun, getting me ready to write my own...so. It's a good idea, with the part of his crew mutanying against him but...I din't think of it so...oh well. And the curse, in my other story there is something like that, with the draw of the curse so...not to worry.
DragonHunter200: Hey! Wassup? Thank you, I haven't really read any other mutanies, a few but...thanks for saying it was the best, that really means a lot to me. Eye things make me sick to. In bio class we have to disect a cow eye! Ewe, right now we're on fetal pig. That is so gross and that fluid stuff stinks so bad! I had to cut it open, I wanted to gag. For 'Mexico' my neice told me the whole thing before I watched it, kinda a draw back cause nothing came as a shock, including the eye thing. I wanted to kill those guys for taking his eyes, they are so sexy. Oh well, it's only a movie. I also have the habit of looking ahead to the last few chapters to see what'll happen so...it's all habit, really. Sun fried brain...hah...it said in the movie about his brain fried by the sun but...Gibbs is a story teller. I added it cause it would be fun. I'll see Don Juan DeMarco. My dad's never home but I'll need him to pick it up. I get my licence soon so, I can soon but I'll need his money. The city, Saskatoon, is about an hour away and, if that's where I'll find it, that'll be where I'll go. My dad not only calls him a woman but him and my brother bug me, sayin he's gay and way to old for me. What ever, age is only a number and, no offence, but you made my skin crawl with the Harrison Ford thing. Don't worry, when I was younger I was in love with all of Backstreet boys, Nsync and of course, Leonardo DiCaprio. Man, was he a looker. Enough of that, though, older guys are hot...if you can enjoy them on the big screen and not in your bed.
Dshael: Poor, poor Jack. To stupid...to young...to insane for his own good. Oh well, still a looker. I'm glad you didn't drop me with the whole Josh thing...sniff. This story is actually going to go through the movie and past it...three or so chapters. His revenge on Barbossa and his revenge on Fritz were close together. I like your curiosity, It's refreshing. See ya...not really...read ya and answer ya late-a!
Ch. 11 rum runners and rescues
Jack opened his eyes to the sight of the sun set casting the sky into blood red and pink colors, reflecting in the water until it seemed that the sky itself was injured. Rolling over, he was met by sand, the tide hitting his legs and soaking his boots through. Groaning, he tried to remember how he had managed to get to the island. Depression sank in and he sat up, reaching for the gun in his sash.
Jack placed the cold metal of the gun under his chin, his finger on the trigger. Should he? He was going to die anyway; he might as well get it over with and finish it now. A light breeze lifted his hair and he sighed, placing the gun on the sand beside himself and watching the horizon.
"There's still a chance someone will come." He said fairly to the thin air. "I mean, how long can it be? A day, two at the most." He laughed and rubbed his face.
"Yeah right Sparrow, the sun really has fried your brain. That gun beside you is your only way out." His stomach growled just then and he laughed maniacally. "Or starvation is another option, you can try that, see how it goes."
"Well, I'll live longer." He picked up the gun and pointed it at the ocean. "Maybe I can catch a fish." He snorted.
"Yeah, well, if the sea doesn't carry it away before you can grab it, saying you actually hit one, then what are you going to do tomorrow? Catch a bird or something by throwing the gun at it?" He laughed again, placing the gun in his mouth and cocking it. Squeezing his eyes shut, Jack waited a few seconds and pulled the trigger. It clicked but nothing happened.
The bullet was sitting in the sand beside him, he hadn't loaded it. Screaming with rage he loaded the gun and threw the gun behind him where it hit the sand with a soft thud. "And now, yer talking to yerself, great, just absolutely bloody great." He hissed and lay back on the sand, hand over his eyes. "That shot is meant for one man and no other. Not me...not yet...Barbossa. Barbossa will die..." He moaned and rolled over onto his stomach, propping his chin on a hand and watching the gun. "What about Fritz, I still got to kill him. He's not dead, I know it. He's waiting for me."
The trees swayed slightly in answer to his constant talking and Jack got up; testing his strength and hissing as his side began to throb again. The bleeding had stopped, a good thing, but I still hurt enough. He made his way to the center of the island where there was a small grassy plain and began picking up small twigs, grass bits, pieces of bark and rocks, intent on building a fire. He took the first load back to the beach and set back for a second. As he bent down to gather up a particularly sparse bit of grass, a plank of wood caught his eye.
It was pretty well concealed, and made him wonder weather there had been a shipwreck or something early. As he stooped to investigate though, a glint of something caught his eye. It was a trap door, which squeaked slightly as he pulled it up revealing a sandy staircase and a small square hole like a room underneath.
Climbing down carefully, Jack squinted through the dark letting his eyes adjust to the dimmer light and was astounded to see crate apon crate of bottles full of amber liquid. Moving forward, Jack grabbed one, popped the cork, and took a giant whiff, coughing at once. It was rum. Setting down the bottle, Jack began to count the crates.
"This island must a cache." He muttered, pulling a small crate off a larger one and prying off the top revealing more. "Who knows how long it'll be before they come back though so," He grabbed a few bottles and left the hole, closing the lid behind him and setting off for the beach. He set them down under a tree and made a fire as quickly as he could, trying to recall some of the lessons the men of the Catherine had given him all those years ago.
When he was done, Jack sat down with his bottles, pulled off the cork of one and lay down, pouring the liquid over his side and groaning as the sting of it filled his injury, numbing his one side to anything but the burn. "What the hell." He muttered, tipping it into his mouth and choking at the taste. He did it again and again, alternating between his side and him mouth until he was on the second bottle and fell asleep only when he had drained both and gone for a third and a fourth.
The next day and night Jack was to drunk to light a fire or do anything but lay on the beach, watching the horizon and muttering incoherently to himself about revenge. "He'll be sorry...hic...Barbossie an' Fritztner wi' tas' me blade. I'll ge' me Pear...lllll back an' be the bes'...damn pirate in the..." He gestured vaguely to the water before passing out.
There was something on the horizon, it looked like a large wave but he wasn't sure, his head was spinning to badly. There were dark shapes moving up the beach towards him. Jack sat up and immediately wished he hadn't. He'd been on this blasted beach for three full days, two of which almost completely passed out and now, to see people on the beach almost felt wrong.
"Son," Someone was slapping his face. "Son, can you hear me?" There was a man crouching next to him in the sand, his one hand holding Jack up, the other slapping him hard with every other word. "Son? He's drunk alright."
"Yeah an' e he's drinkin' all our rum." Another yelled. The man in front of Jack stopped and let him fall back to the sand.
"What?" A female voice this time, from the direction of the water, probably with some lifeboats. Oh great, he'd drunken all the rum and now they were going to kill him. "That's impossible!"
"Okay, maybe it was some. I count eleven...fourteen...eighteen...twenty-two bottles." Said the man near the trees. Jack opened his eyes and was able to make out a large fuzzy outline leaning over him and peering into his face.
"How long have you been here son?" The man asked. Jack tried to wrap his mind around the question. "How long?"
"Three...three...three...days." Jack managed to say. The man above him whistled.
"I be thinkin' we should leave 'im 'ere, let 'im die. Obviously someone did." There was some mummers of agreement around him and Jack turned his head to take in the others though he really couldn't make them out more then blurred shapes.
"No." He muttered. "I...have to...revenge."
The man above him leaned in closer and tapped his right cheek hard shaking him with out mercy. "Why should we take you?" He asked loudly making Jack's head pound harder then ever.
"I'll...work off...what I...drank, I can...read, write...an do other stuff. I've been...on a...pirate ship..." The man made a weird sound, "The Black Pearl."
"A pirate eh?" Jack closed his eyes again and waited. "Alright, we may need you for a few years, to pay off what you've drunk here." The man stood and suddenly two pairs of arms had seized him and were dragging him to his feet, his arms wrapped over their shoulders. Looking to his left her saw a kid around his age with short red hair, to his left a woman with long black hair. Before they had reached the boats, though, his world faded into darkness.
The first thing he became aware of was a soft and rhythmic ticking, like a clock. Opening his eyes slowly, his fuzzy vision revealed a roughly paneled wood room, beneath him a comfortable bed that rocked slightly with the obvious waves that tossed the ship. He groaned trying to remember what had happened prior to him ending up here.
Turning his head, he noticed a woman with dark hair sitting in the corner, hunched over a table with a dying candle beside her. She looked up at him, the pen she had been writing with suspended in mid air over a piece of parchment.
Jack took in her black hair that hung shoulder length and curly around her oval face almost masking her beautiful blue eyes. She watched him intensely for a moment and then asked, "Head ache?" Jack nodded, bringing a hand to his face and rubbing his eyes roughly. She sighed and began writing again, "Well, you sure drank enough."
"Where am I?" Jack muttered his voice scratchy.
"On the rum runner ship, the Lister." She replied. Jack closed his eyes again, feeling sick. "You must really like your rum Jack." He looked at her confused and she laughed lightly. "It's on your arm, under the tattoo of a robin."
"Sparrow." Jack corrected. "I'm Jack Sparrow." The woman set down her pen again, stood and went to a cabinet in the corner and pulled out a bowl of water and set it down on a small chair next to the bed. Out of the bowl she took out a white cloth which she rung out and then pressed to his face.
"Here you go Jack Sparrow," she said letting go of the cloth, which slipped down his face onto his chest. He picked it up and slapped it back on his face, covering his eyes to block out the light of the candles in the room.
"And who are you?" he asked quietly. He heard the creak of her chair as it took her weight again and a scratching of her pen on the paper.
"My name is Emmaline Haron, I'm the wife of the captain of this ship." She answered. Jack nodded and removed the cloth to look at the woman, she looked no older then he was.
"How old are you?" Jack asked. Emmaline glanced up at him, still writing what ever it was she was writing.
"Why?" She asked. Jack shook his head and replaced his cloth, soaking in its cold dampness.
"Just wondering, it just seems like he was a little old."
"That would be while you were lying almost dead on the beach?" Jack laughed. "No, you're right, he is a little older. But, Miguel, the captain, he's a good man, really."
"How old?" Jack asked. Emmaline chose not to reply. He was about to say more when the cabin door opened and Jack glance over to see the Captain standing in the doorway.
"He's awake?" He asked his wife. Emmaline nodded and continued writing. The man nodded and walked over to sit on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling son?" Jack shook his head and muttered something under his breath. "Head hurt?" Jack nodded and muttered again. "Well, no doubt." He took the cloth away from Jack's eyes so he could see him better.
The man had light brown hair that was graying in some places, mainly on the top where the hair was moving along the hair line, back towards the back of his head. His scruffy beard was also graying, outlining his fat rosy cheeks. Jack sat up and leaned against the headboard, taking a small glass of water that was offered to him.
"Thanks." He croaked, sipping the water until it was all gone and handed the glass back to him. "You are..."
"Captain Haron, you can call me Miguel, you probably met my wife," he indicated the dark haired woman in the corner at the table. "And I hope she's been taking care of you." Jack nodded, allowing a smile to play on his lips. "Now, we need to talk about payment for all the rum of mine that you drank." His smile died.
"I am truly sorry sir, you see..." Miguel held up his hand.
"What's done is done. I am a fair man, Jack." Jack covered the tattoo on his arm with out thinking about it and didn't even bother to ask how he had known his name. "I would like payment however. How long would you be willing to work on my ship?" Jack shrugged.
"As long as it will take to pay off any damage..." Miguel again stopped him.
"It's alright. Where are you from?" Jack pondered this question, wondering how far back the man wanted him to go.
"The pirate ship, Black Pearl." He said simply. The man shifted and watched him intensely. "I was also on the pirate ship Catherine."
"Only pirate ships?" Miguel asked. Jack nodded. "Where did you grow up? You seem to well spoken to be brought up on any ship."
"I was born and raised in Britain, the man who raised me was a commodore in the navy, my mother was a pirate along with my father." They talked all night until Jack was finally told to go to sleep.
The sun was warm and bright when he stepped from the room the next day. The cabin he had spent the night in was by far not as comfortable or as roomy as the one he had had on the Pearl, and he knew the crews quarters where he's be sleeping later would be even less so.
Emmaline worked at the far end, handing some crates to a young man around his age with flaming red hair and a noticeable scar above his left eye. She looked up at him but didn't acknowledge his presence. The boy with red hair also looked up and smiled slightly until Emmaline shoved the crate hard into his stomach, knocking him backwards a few steps. The boy got back his footing and turned his attention back to his job.
Jack's eyes swept over to the wheel where Miguel stood with a blond haired short man with cold brown eyes who stood glaring at Jack as though he'd insulted him. Jack shifted his shoulders uncomfortably and walked over to join them.
"Ah, there you are." Miguel said, a large smile on his face, "Our newest family member." Miguel grabbed Jack's hand and shook it before letting go and turning to the man beside him. "Jack, this is Ian, Ian, this is Jack." The man didn't shake hands with Jack but instead turned away and began playing with the ropes on the side of the ship. "John," Miguel called. The young red haired man strode over, a smile on his face, and held out his hand, which the young pirate shook.
"Hello, Jack." John said, "Is that your real name or is it John as well?" Jack smiled.
"My name's John, everyone calls me Jack." John smiled.
"Fair enough." He looked at the Captain, "Shall I show Jack where he'll be staying?" The captain nodded and John led Jack off the deck into the stuffy underbelly of the ship.
Below here there were four beds made on the floor, another behind a curtain. Jack set his stuff on one of the beds and said, "You and Ian sleep..."
"Here." John said. He walked around the room, stepping over a mattress and pointing to one with raggedy blankets and a bundle of cloths made into a pillow. "This one's mine," He pointed to another beside it, "This one's Ian's and that one," He pointed to the one behind the curtain, "That one was Ellie's." Jack raised an eyebrow.
"Ellie?" He asked. John nodded and moved to the curtain, drawing it aside and showing the small mattress behind. There were pinkish blankets on this one, ripped and faded in some places, a stuffed elephant on top next to a pillow that had been poorly sewn.
"She was killed, two weeks ago." He said sadly. "We've been havin' a hard time till you came along." He beamed at Jack and let the curtain fall back into its place. "And don't mind Ian, he's like that. Ellie was his girl." He giggled nervously, his hands twisting in his shirt folds. "A pirate eh? I bet that was exciting." Jack shrugged, eyes on the small crew quarters. "How long were you a pirate?"
"A few years." Jack said. He moved across the room to a small desk in the corner, the light from the deck above flooding down the staircase and illuminating it's surface strewn with bits of paper and a small amount of broken stationary.
"This ship won't be as grand as I'm sure your pirate ship was but," He said down on his mattress and sighed, "It's home."
Fritz moved towards him with Barbossa, a manic glint in his eyes, his arms wrapped around Lily who looked strangely like Scarlet. In the distance, Jack could see his beautiful Black Pearl pitching in high waves.
"What are you going ta do Sparrow? What are ya goin' to do? Get revenge?" Barbossa and Fritz laughed and Jack moved backwards, slipping on a tuft of grass. They were on the island he'd been marooned on.
"Jack! Help me!" Lily screamed, her sweet Irish voice moving through him. He drew his pistol and fired the shot hitting Fritz squarely between the eyes. He didn't die though, he was still coming, blood oozing from his forehead.
"Is that the best you can do Jack?" He asked. Jack hit a palm tree and came to a stop and so did Barbossa and Fritz with Lily held like a shield. "Bye." His knife cut across Lily's throat and blood sprayed at Jack, drenching his face, her terrified gasping screams ripping threw him.
Jack sat bolt upright, sweat running down his face. The room was dark, Ian and John's combined snores echoing through the almost bare room. He got to his feet and made his way to the deck, wanting the silence and cold of the night air above.
He found Emmaline at the ship's edge, a candle sitting in a dish next to her, bleeding candle wax down it's side, a book in her hand. Suddenly Jack remembered the book his father had written for his mother. It was still on the Pearl, hidden in the Captain's cabin behind the cabinet. He'd never finished it and knew he probably never would now.
He joined Emmaline at the edge, leaning on the rail beside her candle, not surprised when she didn't look up. "Who taught you to read?" He asked. Emmaline sighed.
"Who taught you to ask so many questions?" She licked her thumb and turned the page, eyes moving over it as she took in every word. "Ever since you came on the Lister all you've done is ask questions." Jack smiled and leaned in closer to look over her shoulder at the page she was now on.
"A romance novel?" He asked, reading a few lines. Emmaline inched away from him, bringing her candle with her and Jack didn't move to follow, instead turning his gaze back out to the moonlit ocean. "Will we be docking anywhere soon?" He asked. Emmaline shrugged simply in reply.
"Tortuga maybe, to stock up and move on to more private and simple inlets. There are some pubs we stock in Tortuga but also Port Royal, port Thomas..." Jack made a guttural sound and Emmaline looked at him coldly. "Fine, fine, you get the picture."
Jack rubbed a hand over his mouth and down his braided beard, cocking his head to the side slightly and rocking back and fourth, thinking while using his mad pirate routine with out even realizing it. Finally he spun around making Emmaline jump and rested on the railing, looking at her dead on. "Ye ever drunk on yer own stuff?" He slurred a slight smile on his face. Emmaline closed her book with a snap, a smile on her lips as well. She moved in closer, her mouth near his ear.
"No." And with that she walked away, her candle in hand.
For five years Jack sailed under Miguel, learning the trade of rum running, and smuggling other goods, drinking his fare share and working off what he drank. They'd been caught several times but he'd managed them out of it somehow. His mind, though, while always looking for new ways to insult and anger Ian, was always on two men, Barbossa and Fritz.
Every night he dreamed of two things, Barbossa and Fritz on their knees bagging for their lives on the deck of the Black Pearl, which was his, or else of holding Lily in his arms and calling her his own. Either way, when the chance to be a pirate again came, he took it.
One night in Tortuga, Miguel had stopped to make a usual pick up and delivery when Jack remembered Roger who he hadn't seen since taking his ship.
"I'll be back later." He muttered, walking away with Miguel calling after him that he had four hours until departure. Jack hadn't been off the Lister to explore Tortuga when they docked since the first month he had joined the crew and desperately hoped to see Roger and Scarlet.
A little woman with long blond curls and a mousy face ran into him outside a pub, her curls bouncing around her face, reflecting the glow from the pub's grungy windows. She giggled. "Hello, I'm Giselle, wanna go for some fun?" She pointed to the pub but Jack declined, stepping past her and heading up the street. An' if yer ever in Tortuga, jus' talk ta Marshie at Fanny's.
Fanny's was a small inn with an overgrown weedy garden and a dilapidated old white fence, the paint peeling off and laying in the grass like snowflakes. Jack ran his callused fingers along the top of the fence and smiled at the splitters prickling his skin. It reeked of rum and cheap perfume, exactly what he needed.
The door was heavier then it looked when he pushed it open into a bustling pub like atmosphere except this was like no pub he'd ever been in. Women danced on the tables pouring beer over the men who sat in chairs, the piano player in the corner also drunk, falling and drooling over the key board.
Jack crinkled his nose and walked past a woman who was singing to a man who was either passed out or dead in her lap and sat down on a bar stool, sweeping his long gray blue coat from under him. With out asking, the bar tender gave him a tankard of rum. Jack smiled, whipped the rim with his sleeve, took a sip then grabbed the man's sleeve as he made to walk away.
"I'm lookin' fer someone. Marshie." He said, pulling the bar man down low and getting real close to his face so they were only an inch apart. He loved scaring people and, as predicted, the man tensed up.
"Not here." He said. "Gone out." Jack swore.
"How bout Gibbs?"
"Ah, over there." The man pointed to the corner where there was a door. Jack raised an eyebrow and the man nodded vigorously. Letting go, he stood and followed the intended direction. It led to a barn. Thinking he was being led on, Jack walked along the dirty ally between the stalls and was stopped by the sounds of snoring.
Moving carefully, he edged his way to the side of a stall and peered over the edge. A scruffy man lay below, his chest rising and falling softly. "That's interesting." Jack muttered. He bent down, scooped up some straw from the ground beneath his feet and let it fall on the sleeping man's face. With a grunt, the man woke with a start; pulling a pistol from beside him and waving it around like a mad man.
With a shot, the gun went off and Jack ducked so the man couldn't see him. "Who's there? I'll gut ye, ye mangy cur of a sea dog! Come out and I'll cure..."
"Stop you stupid eunuch, are ye tryin' to kill me?" Jack screamed. The man's curses stopped, Jack heard a shifting and looked up from his crouched position to see the other peering over the edge of the stall, a sour look on his face.
"Bloody hell, whelp, what do ye think yer doin'? It's bad luck to be wakin' a man when e he's sleepin'!" The man roared.
"Obviously it's not good to my health either." Jack yelled back, "Ye almost killed me."
His head disappeared only for a moment before he stood in the doorway to Jack's stall. "Mary the holy mother, are ye daft, ye almost got yerself killed. Come sneakin' up on me like tha'."
Jack stood and straightened his jacket, brushing straw off the back, frowning. This had not started well. "I was looking for someone, Roger Gibbs. Ye seen him?" The man's expression darkened.
"He be me brother." He said stiffly, placing the pistol back in his sash, "He's dead." It took a moment for that to sink in but, once it had, it hit him like a wave, crashing against him and trying to crush him in shock.
"Dead?" Jack sat down again on the straw, sick. He'd been in Tortuga before, why hadn't he done something about seeing Roger then, when he had had time...when he was still alive? "You must be Joshamee?" The man nodded. "Roger talked about you."
The other man sat down beside him and Jack looked into the face of the brother of one of his best friends. They didn't look much alike. "You were with him? On the Catherine?" Jack nodded and Gibbs looked down at his arm where his tattoo was clearly visible, "Jack," He muttered, "Sparrow?"
Hey, hoped you liked it! Finally another! To my reviewers:
Alteng: Sorry about your household talking to you while you try and read, happens to me to so, no worries. Egar? No, worried you'll all get board and no one will review and my life will be a desaster! Kidding, but yes, worried would be it. I would have made a character development but, in my other story I explained it, I havn't had a lot of time lately. I try to pop em off best I can and see what happens in my short space of time. Not only the job but school, homework, readining for finals soon, writing this and training horses has got me tired. And I'm still fighting with my friend. Been a week! In my story, dealing with the mutainy, I kinda had Bill tell Jack. From what we hear, Bill's a good guy and I don't think he'd even let his worst enimy stand up to an angry crew with out notice. Barbossa, in mine, kinda knew Jack knew and sent in Pintel and Ragetti to fish him out. I'm not going to re-write this story, don't really need to, it's just fun, getting me ready to write my own...so. It's a good idea, with the part of his crew mutanying against him but...I din't think of it so...oh well. And the curse, in my other story there is something like that, with the draw of the curse so...not to worry.
DragonHunter200: Hey! Wassup? Thank you, I haven't really read any other mutanies, a few but...thanks for saying it was the best, that really means a lot to me. Eye things make me sick to. In bio class we have to disect a cow eye! Ewe, right now we're on fetal pig. That is so gross and that fluid stuff stinks so bad! I had to cut it open, I wanted to gag. For 'Mexico' my neice told me the whole thing before I watched it, kinda a draw back cause nothing came as a shock, including the eye thing. I wanted to kill those guys for taking his eyes, they are so sexy. Oh well, it's only a movie. I also have the habit of looking ahead to the last few chapters to see what'll happen so...it's all habit, really. Sun fried brain...hah...it said in the movie about his brain fried by the sun but...Gibbs is a story teller. I added it cause it would be fun. I'll see Don Juan DeMarco. My dad's never home but I'll need him to pick it up. I get my licence soon so, I can soon but I'll need his money. The city, Saskatoon, is about an hour away and, if that's where I'll find it, that'll be where I'll go. My dad not only calls him a woman but him and my brother bug me, sayin he's gay and way to old for me. What ever, age is only a number and, no offence, but you made my skin crawl with the Harrison Ford thing. Don't worry, when I was younger I was in love with all of Backstreet boys, Nsync and of course, Leonardo DiCaprio. Man, was he a looker. Enough of that, though, older guys are hot...if you can enjoy them on the big screen and not in your bed.
Dshael: Poor, poor Jack. To stupid...to young...to insane for his own good. Oh well, still a looker. I'm glad you didn't drop me with the whole Josh thing...sniff. This story is actually going to go through the movie and past it...three or so chapters. His revenge on Barbossa and his revenge on Fritz were close together. I like your curiosity, It's refreshing. See ya...not really...read ya and answer ya late-a!