***Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean. There will be some original characters, especially later on and I suppose they are all that I own related to this fic ;-) Enjoy!***
Chapter One.
The trail went on, in its patchy way, for miles. Jack walked along for what seemed to him like hours until the trees abruptly began to thin out. Peering through the trees Jack could see that the sun had shifted slightly, but that there was plenty of daylight still to come. The sun had baked his shirt dry as it clung to him. He absent mindedly pawed at it from time to time as the sand rubbed his skin. He found a shady spot under a tree and carefully lowered himself to the ground. He picked up one of his brown feet and winced as he gently rubbed some of the sand from the blisters.
"Pity," he said to himself. "And I had such lovely feet." He put his foot down and took a look around him. There was still no sign of habitation, and he was starting to worry that he may have washed up far from help, if help was to come his way. He certainly would not be able to find help in his condition. On sea Jack Sparrow couldn't be held back, not by anyone or anything. On land, however, that was a different story. "So, what's next for Jack Sparrow?" he asked himself. He grinned, looking at his tattered clothes. "I am fortune's fool!" he laughed. "Read that somewhere. Don't remember where. Seems appropriate." He looked like he had been crushed more than once under fortune's wheel.
At that moment Jack heard the definite sound of someone coming through the trees up ahead. Jack scrambled to his feet, hopping on one leg as he did so. "Damn!" He just managed to angle himself behind a tree when the man became visible. He broke through the veil of the trees and stumbled into the pathway not far ahead. The man was wearing a three cornered hat, under which flowed brown curls down his neck and over his ears. Otherwise, his clothes were not that different from Jack's own. In his hand he loosely swung a half-empty bottle of rum with every step he took. The man gave a series of discrete coughs.
"Twas all in the Martinmas Time when roses all were swellin', that William of the west country fell in love wi' Barbr'y Allen!" sang the man in a brisk style.
"Ah, he's drunk, the ol' fool!" said Jack, losing all of his trepidation. He casually walked towards the man. "Good morning!" said Jack as calmly as he could considering he had just survived a shipwreck the previous evening. The man looked at him over his shoulder with mild surprise. Jack realised that he was staring at the man. He made an effort to smile, and look a little more relaxed. The man seemed to be more surprised that he had company, not that his company looked like a sandy scarecrow. "My name is Jack Sparrow," he said. The man smiled at Jack.
"Well, Jackie, if you'd be so kind," he stomped one of his heavy feet and its boot. "I need to get me back home," He looked at Jack seriously. "An' I'm not feeling well," It was all Jack could do not to laugh. Aye, he looked less than well.
"Do you need a hand, then?" offered Jack, walking over to steady the big man. He groaned, as he felt the heaviness of the man's arm on his shoulder.
"Ah," laughed the man. "You're all hollow y' are!" he howled right in Jack's ear. Meanwhile he politely winced and plodded along trying not to care about the hot coals he was walking on. This would get him to civilization, or at least a reasonable substitute. "You a sailor?" said the man, as his hands rubbed against one of the places on Jack's shirt were the sand was collecting.
"Aye," said Jack catching his breath long enough to reply. The man didn't seem to notice Jack's struggle to keep him upright. He merely received the information, duly stored it and nodded as though it were a profound truth. It didn't take all that long to arrive at the man's small holding by means of the old trail which led up into his property from the back. Jack stopped to rest at an old wooden fence bounding the little green acre and it's neat white clapboard house. The man trode over to the gate, while Jack panted. He lifted the creaking latch.
"Shhhh!" whispered the man, looking at Jack with a wide grin. Jack didn't get the joke, but he grinned anyway. The man looked concerned, and walked over to Jack again. "Here," he said, handing him the bottle of rum. "I can't be seen with that, can I?" Jack nodded sternly. The two of them walked over to the white house. Jack's eyes lit up as he saw the whiteness of the level roadway beyond.
They were soon standing near the back steps, the man giving Jack a farewell slap on his trusty back. Jack lifted his head casually, and attempted to ask the way into town. "You know, Jackie," said the man. "I tell you what I'll do. You follow this road here," he pointed along with his large finger. "Until you see a place that has a sign out front looks like a dove on a barrel. That'll be the Drunken Dove," Jack blinked.
"The Drunken Dove?"
"Yeah, it's the tavern. You're in luck Jackie for today there's someone there who'd be real glad to meet you. He's lookin' for sailors for the King himself!" the man laughed. "His name's Teigue McCory. He's cried the town for sailors, an' could find none. Ask for Tall Teiggy. Tell him Joseph sent ya!" Jack waved goodbye and set his much maligned feet on the white roadway. He look a quick sip of what was left in the bottle.
The wind was blowing behind him, and it's coolness soothed Jack somewhat. As he walked along, he looked up at the sky, imagining beautiful dark ships sailing seas as blue. And onboard he could see the loyal men of the crew and their fearless captain. He could see the smartly dressed marine guards standing straight all in a line. His heart quickened and his mind raced. "Me? In the King's navy?" He imagined himself as the perfect midshipman. He would be so brave, so clever, so loyal. Maybe he would save the captain's life, and be brought before the King himself! He hummed as he well nigh raced along towards his new vocation, the scruffy ragamuffin. His black hair fanned his brow and a wide grin flashed on his face as he closed his eyes and imagined himself promoted to a life of honours, and wealth. The thought also didn't escape him that, as a dashing naval hero, he would be fair game for graceful young women of a sort he would never have met otherwise. And they would all think he was exceptional, and handsome, and quite clever and want him to steal their kisses like he would their hearts.
He smiled to himself. He was so enraptured that he hardly noticed how long he had walked. He was already in the outskirts of the town. He looked around keenly for the sign of the Drunken Dove. Instead, his eyes caught the sight of people staring back at him. It wasn't an unusual feeling for him, but he didn't care much for it all the same. He tried, like many times before, to get used to walking on land but once again the art eluded him. He only managed not to draw too much attention to himself this time. He just couldn't get used to non-rolling surfaces like terra firma.
There it was at last, the sign of The Drunken Dove. It was a large, well-painted sign and Jack nearly caught his breath when he saw it. He let himself roll along to the tavern, regardless of how it looked. He was on a course with destiny, he could feel it, and it was drawing him onward. He paused only for an instant at the threshold. He felt within him that he would never be the same once he entered under that sign. It excited and thrilled him to the core. Without another thought he briskly walked into the tavern.
Chapter One.
The trail went on, in its patchy way, for miles. Jack walked along for what seemed to him like hours until the trees abruptly began to thin out. Peering through the trees Jack could see that the sun had shifted slightly, but that there was plenty of daylight still to come. The sun had baked his shirt dry as it clung to him. He absent mindedly pawed at it from time to time as the sand rubbed his skin. He found a shady spot under a tree and carefully lowered himself to the ground. He picked up one of his brown feet and winced as he gently rubbed some of the sand from the blisters.
"Pity," he said to himself. "And I had such lovely feet." He put his foot down and took a look around him. There was still no sign of habitation, and he was starting to worry that he may have washed up far from help, if help was to come his way. He certainly would not be able to find help in his condition. On sea Jack Sparrow couldn't be held back, not by anyone or anything. On land, however, that was a different story. "So, what's next for Jack Sparrow?" he asked himself. He grinned, looking at his tattered clothes. "I am fortune's fool!" he laughed. "Read that somewhere. Don't remember where. Seems appropriate." He looked like he had been crushed more than once under fortune's wheel.
At that moment Jack heard the definite sound of someone coming through the trees up ahead. Jack scrambled to his feet, hopping on one leg as he did so. "Damn!" He just managed to angle himself behind a tree when the man became visible. He broke through the veil of the trees and stumbled into the pathway not far ahead. The man was wearing a three cornered hat, under which flowed brown curls down his neck and over his ears. Otherwise, his clothes were not that different from Jack's own. In his hand he loosely swung a half-empty bottle of rum with every step he took. The man gave a series of discrete coughs.
"Twas all in the Martinmas Time when roses all were swellin', that William of the west country fell in love wi' Barbr'y Allen!" sang the man in a brisk style.
"Ah, he's drunk, the ol' fool!" said Jack, losing all of his trepidation. He casually walked towards the man. "Good morning!" said Jack as calmly as he could considering he had just survived a shipwreck the previous evening. The man looked at him over his shoulder with mild surprise. Jack realised that he was staring at the man. He made an effort to smile, and look a little more relaxed. The man seemed to be more surprised that he had company, not that his company looked like a sandy scarecrow. "My name is Jack Sparrow," he said. The man smiled at Jack.
"Well, Jackie, if you'd be so kind," he stomped one of his heavy feet and its boot. "I need to get me back home," He looked at Jack seriously. "An' I'm not feeling well," It was all Jack could do not to laugh. Aye, he looked less than well.
"Do you need a hand, then?" offered Jack, walking over to steady the big man. He groaned, as he felt the heaviness of the man's arm on his shoulder.
"Ah," laughed the man. "You're all hollow y' are!" he howled right in Jack's ear. Meanwhile he politely winced and plodded along trying not to care about the hot coals he was walking on. This would get him to civilization, or at least a reasonable substitute. "You a sailor?" said the man, as his hands rubbed against one of the places on Jack's shirt were the sand was collecting.
"Aye," said Jack catching his breath long enough to reply. The man didn't seem to notice Jack's struggle to keep him upright. He merely received the information, duly stored it and nodded as though it were a profound truth. It didn't take all that long to arrive at the man's small holding by means of the old trail which led up into his property from the back. Jack stopped to rest at an old wooden fence bounding the little green acre and it's neat white clapboard house. The man trode over to the gate, while Jack panted. He lifted the creaking latch.
"Shhhh!" whispered the man, looking at Jack with a wide grin. Jack didn't get the joke, but he grinned anyway. The man looked concerned, and walked over to Jack again. "Here," he said, handing him the bottle of rum. "I can't be seen with that, can I?" Jack nodded sternly. The two of them walked over to the white house. Jack's eyes lit up as he saw the whiteness of the level roadway beyond.
They were soon standing near the back steps, the man giving Jack a farewell slap on his trusty back. Jack lifted his head casually, and attempted to ask the way into town. "You know, Jackie," said the man. "I tell you what I'll do. You follow this road here," he pointed along with his large finger. "Until you see a place that has a sign out front looks like a dove on a barrel. That'll be the Drunken Dove," Jack blinked.
"The Drunken Dove?"
"Yeah, it's the tavern. You're in luck Jackie for today there's someone there who'd be real glad to meet you. He's lookin' for sailors for the King himself!" the man laughed. "His name's Teigue McCory. He's cried the town for sailors, an' could find none. Ask for Tall Teiggy. Tell him Joseph sent ya!" Jack waved goodbye and set his much maligned feet on the white roadway. He look a quick sip of what was left in the bottle.
The wind was blowing behind him, and it's coolness soothed Jack somewhat. As he walked along, he looked up at the sky, imagining beautiful dark ships sailing seas as blue. And onboard he could see the loyal men of the crew and their fearless captain. He could see the smartly dressed marine guards standing straight all in a line. His heart quickened and his mind raced. "Me? In the King's navy?" He imagined himself as the perfect midshipman. He would be so brave, so clever, so loyal. Maybe he would save the captain's life, and be brought before the King himself! He hummed as he well nigh raced along towards his new vocation, the scruffy ragamuffin. His black hair fanned his brow and a wide grin flashed on his face as he closed his eyes and imagined himself promoted to a life of honours, and wealth. The thought also didn't escape him that, as a dashing naval hero, he would be fair game for graceful young women of a sort he would never have met otherwise. And they would all think he was exceptional, and handsome, and quite clever and want him to steal their kisses like he would their hearts.
He smiled to himself. He was so enraptured that he hardly noticed how long he had walked. He was already in the outskirts of the town. He looked around keenly for the sign of the Drunken Dove. Instead, his eyes caught the sight of people staring back at him. It wasn't an unusual feeling for him, but he didn't care much for it all the same. He tried, like many times before, to get used to walking on land but once again the art eluded him. He only managed not to draw too much attention to himself this time. He just couldn't get used to non-rolling surfaces like terra firma.
There it was at last, the sign of The Drunken Dove. It was a large, well-painted sign and Jack nearly caught his breath when he saw it. He let himself roll along to the tavern, regardless of how it looked. He was on a course with destiny, he could feel it, and it was drawing him onward. He paused only for an instant at the threshold. He felt within him that he would never be the same once he entered under that sign. It excited and thrilled him to the core. Without another thought he briskly walked into the tavern.