***I still don't own PotC ;-) I own Mr. McCory, The Drunken Dove, The Golden Bough, and Captain Hawthorne when I create him ;-) As far as I know, 'Teigue' is pronounced "TEE-g" but it's modern version, which is a slur for 'Irish Catholic' (because in PotC time England was taking over Ireland, and there were a lot of Teigues, so the name stuck) is pronounced 'TAY-g'. Ah well. He's called 'Tom' most of the time so you don't need to worry ;-)
lem68: I'm so glad that you are enjoying my story! I don't really know which is my favourite. But some of my favourites are OOC, and Rum and Tears. If you look at my profile, there's a lot more but I think those are probably the ones that stand out in my mind right now.
***
It was a neat neighbourhood pub, rather than a tavern. It had long, leaded glass panes along the walls bathing the inside with daylight. Jack's eyes immediately picked out a smartly dressed man sitting at a nearby table with several other men. He ran a hand through his hair and began to walk over to them. He had only taken two or three steps when they, in a body, turned and looked at him. He stopped; their gaze fell on him like a cold shower. The corners of their mouths rose into grins and they continued ignoring him. Jack was mortified; yet he took another step towards them, and they stared at him again, this time less intensely. The smartly dressed man put down his drink, smoothed his neat moustache and peered over his nose at Jack.
"Is there something you want, boy?" he asked with feigned gentility. Jack set his head up and looked the man in the eye.
"I'm looking for a Mr. McCory," he said. The man's friends began to laugh even before he had turned to look at them. He resumed ignoring Jack. Jack looked around him, not knowing what was going on until he saw a dark haired man on the other side of the room motion to him. He took one more look at the high-spirited group and walked as straight as he could over to the other table in the corner.
"I hear you're lookin' for McCory," said the man as Jack stood beside his table. Not waiting for Jack to respond, he smiled and held his hand out in front of an empty chair. "I'm the only McCory 'round here, far as I know." Jack eagerly sat down, and returned the man's grin. Mr. McCory was around the same height as Jack, with black hair and blue eyes that always seemed to be amused by something, even though there was a grave look about him otherwise. Jack saw in his face that he had known the sea longer than Jack, although how much longer was hard to tell.
"A man named Joseph sent me," said Jack. "He said that you were looking for sailors." Mr. McCory frowned as he looked at Jack. He slowly reached out his hand and felt the sand blasted linen clinging to Jack's shoulder and seemed disturbed by it. He looked at Jack again.
"Aye, I've been crying the town for sailors for the past few days while the ship's moored in the bay," he motioned beyond to the water hid behind the town itself but Jack still followed the sailor's finger outwards. "I haven't found any takers," he laughed softly. "Now you tell me your story and then we can see if I'll be offering you a position," Mr. McCory leaned back in his chair. "First, let's have your name."
"My name is Jack Sparrow," the man nodded keenly.
"And how did you get here, Mr. Sparrow?"
"My father's ship was wreaked last night," said Jack looking down for a moment. "I awoke this morning on the beach. Managed to meet a mister... uhm.... a man named Joseph," Mr. McCory nodded. "And he told me that I'd do well to seek you out here."
"That's hard luck, lad," said McCory, rubbing his chin. He paused. "You haven't been put off of the sea, I take it?"
"It's not in me for that," said Jack seriously. The man eyed him carefully.
"So, you're not afraid of it then?" he asked as he looked just past Jack for a moment before resting his eyes on his once more. "Are you not afraid of the sea, lad?" Jack said nothing, because he knew that the man had his answer already. His blue eyes sparkled and he withdrew. "And you feel yourself an able seaman, Mr. Sparrow?"
"I am able, sir," said Jack not without some fierceness. He tried to subdue it somewhat but he had always been passionate.
"I'll be needing able backs, willing hands, level heads and loyal hearts. Are you the man I'm lookin' for, Jackie Sparrow?" Mr. McCory smiled even broader as he saw the look on Jack's face. "Aye, you miserable cur," he said. "I'll take ye as y' are, and we'll probably make something of you in time." Jack sighed with relief, as Mr. McCory signalled to the bar. A glass of water was brought over for Jack. He eagerly drank as Mr. McCory once again ran his eyes over his new crew mate.
"My Christian name's Teigue," said Mr. McCory. "You can call me Teigue if you like, or Thomas if ye prefer. Some blokes onboard call me Tall Teigue which I don't mind; everyone sort of acquires new names in this enterprise," he smiled to himself. "You'll have one as well, in time." Jack was too exhausted to speak. Now that he had come all this way, and obtained what could be the first step towards what he had always desired he suddenly felt all of the pain, and emotional weariness which he had temporarily shut out. He just listened.
"The ship is called The Golden Bough," continued Tom. "And her captain's Henry Hawthorne." Jack looked surprised for a moment, Tom saw the fleeting look. "No, I'm not the captain. I'm not even first mate. I'm a crewman, same as you. I volunteered to go ashore to fill up the crew for the captain. I take it you don't have anywhere to go," he rubbed his chin once more. "I don't see why I can't bring you onboard straight away."
Jack stared at Mr. McCory, his dark eyes filling with a strange light. He smiled. "So, Teigue," he said. "That's all? I just go onboard, and I'll have a uniform and all?" Mr. McCory frowned, and put both hands on the table. Jack's smile faded an inch.
"Jackie," he said slowly. "You're after thinkin' I'm with the navy?" Jack suddenly felt cold rush through him and he opened his mouth but couldn't get it to reply. "No, we're not with His Majesty's." He felt sorry for disappointing Jack, so he cut short his explanation. "We serve the King, to be sure, but we're his loyal privateers not his regular navy." There was a pause in which Mr. McCory expected Jack to either leave, or stay and Jack stayed but said nothing. Suddenly Tom knew what the trouble was.
"D'ye not know what a privateer is?" he ventured to the wide-eyed Jack.
"I don't sir," admitted Jack who was somewhere between hopes. Mr. McCory ran a weary hand over his face and seemed likewise conflicted. He once again abbreviated.
"We are legal pirates," he said. Jack's eyes widened further for an instant before he relaxed as he was finally catching on. "The King sends a letter of marque which authorises sailors to pirate ships of other countries. The letter saves them from the law, at least the King's law." Jack looked suspiciously over at Mr. McCory who continued. "It's a dangerous game, Mr. Sparrow. I don't want ye if I can't trust that you're really for it all. I know you were thinkin' of the blue backs but we ain't them."
He paused, trying to read Jack's face which, at this moment, hid the thoughts behind it like a mask. He was somewhat surprised by the cold look in the young man's eye, the determined line his mouth had drawn across his rather fresh and impish face. What was it lurking in the depths of that dark eye, like a creature barely seen, beautiful and terrible at once? Was it disgust? Could it be fear? He didn't know, and never could say what he had seen there. There was a man behind the eyes now were there had only been a lad before. He suddenly discerned an urgency as he felt the flash of the young man's eye.
"We're just as loyal to our King," he said nearly unawares. He was searching for a way to reach this raw castaway. "Only we work covertly," he explained. "And get some bonuses."
"You mean, treasure?" said Jack coldly. "Booty, I'd imagine?" The older man nodded, and added a curt 'aye'. Jack looked thoughtfully at his hands and the tatters of his shirt. So, this wasn't his dream coming to fruition, as he had thought. He had never heard of privateering, and the idea that it was piracy, albeit legal piracy, didn't make the prospect very appealing.
Mr. McCory saw the concern and disappointment on Jack's face and looked at him sympathetically. "Look," he said. "You don't need to decide right now," Jack looked over at him once more. "I'll take you to the captain, you can have something to eat, and a place to stay the night at least. And I promise we won't steal ya," he added with a grin.
Jack smiled back and the two of them laughed softly. In the brief pause between the two men a hundred things passed through Jack's mind. There was his desperate present needs first of food and shelter. Then, from the darkest depths of Jack Sparrow, came a calling which he had never felt before. Even earlier, when he had raced to the pub to meet his destiny, he hadn't felt this grave and insistent tug from within. He had to resist the urge to touch his breast, to feel the tug with his finger tips, so strong and real was the feeling that this was not disappointment. It was, certainly, neither postponement and that is what intrigued him.
"Alright, Tom," said Jack. "I'll consider your... proposal." A sly grin spread across his face, and this time he smiled with his eyes. "Consider it only, savvy?" The other man returned the smile.
"Aye, Mr. Sparrow," said Tom. Jack placed his hands upon the table, now looking exceedingly poised for a castaway.
"Call me Jack," he smirked.
lem68: I'm so glad that you are enjoying my story! I don't really know which is my favourite. But some of my favourites are OOC, and Rum and Tears. If you look at my profile, there's a lot more but I think those are probably the ones that stand out in my mind right now.
***
It was a neat neighbourhood pub, rather than a tavern. It had long, leaded glass panes along the walls bathing the inside with daylight. Jack's eyes immediately picked out a smartly dressed man sitting at a nearby table with several other men. He ran a hand through his hair and began to walk over to them. He had only taken two or three steps when they, in a body, turned and looked at him. He stopped; their gaze fell on him like a cold shower. The corners of their mouths rose into grins and they continued ignoring him. Jack was mortified; yet he took another step towards them, and they stared at him again, this time less intensely. The smartly dressed man put down his drink, smoothed his neat moustache and peered over his nose at Jack.
"Is there something you want, boy?" he asked with feigned gentility. Jack set his head up and looked the man in the eye.
"I'm looking for a Mr. McCory," he said. The man's friends began to laugh even before he had turned to look at them. He resumed ignoring Jack. Jack looked around him, not knowing what was going on until he saw a dark haired man on the other side of the room motion to him. He took one more look at the high-spirited group and walked as straight as he could over to the other table in the corner.
"I hear you're lookin' for McCory," said the man as Jack stood beside his table. Not waiting for Jack to respond, he smiled and held his hand out in front of an empty chair. "I'm the only McCory 'round here, far as I know." Jack eagerly sat down, and returned the man's grin. Mr. McCory was around the same height as Jack, with black hair and blue eyes that always seemed to be amused by something, even though there was a grave look about him otherwise. Jack saw in his face that he had known the sea longer than Jack, although how much longer was hard to tell.
"A man named Joseph sent me," said Jack. "He said that you were looking for sailors." Mr. McCory frowned as he looked at Jack. He slowly reached out his hand and felt the sand blasted linen clinging to Jack's shoulder and seemed disturbed by it. He looked at Jack again.
"Aye, I've been crying the town for sailors for the past few days while the ship's moored in the bay," he motioned beyond to the water hid behind the town itself but Jack still followed the sailor's finger outwards. "I haven't found any takers," he laughed softly. "Now you tell me your story and then we can see if I'll be offering you a position," Mr. McCory leaned back in his chair. "First, let's have your name."
"My name is Jack Sparrow," the man nodded keenly.
"And how did you get here, Mr. Sparrow?"
"My father's ship was wreaked last night," said Jack looking down for a moment. "I awoke this morning on the beach. Managed to meet a mister... uhm.... a man named Joseph," Mr. McCory nodded. "And he told me that I'd do well to seek you out here."
"That's hard luck, lad," said McCory, rubbing his chin. He paused. "You haven't been put off of the sea, I take it?"
"It's not in me for that," said Jack seriously. The man eyed him carefully.
"So, you're not afraid of it then?" he asked as he looked just past Jack for a moment before resting his eyes on his once more. "Are you not afraid of the sea, lad?" Jack said nothing, because he knew that the man had his answer already. His blue eyes sparkled and he withdrew. "And you feel yourself an able seaman, Mr. Sparrow?"
"I am able, sir," said Jack not without some fierceness. He tried to subdue it somewhat but he had always been passionate.
"I'll be needing able backs, willing hands, level heads and loyal hearts. Are you the man I'm lookin' for, Jackie Sparrow?" Mr. McCory smiled even broader as he saw the look on Jack's face. "Aye, you miserable cur," he said. "I'll take ye as y' are, and we'll probably make something of you in time." Jack sighed with relief, as Mr. McCory signalled to the bar. A glass of water was brought over for Jack. He eagerly drank as Mr. McCory once again ran his eyes over his new crew mate.
"My Christian name's Teigue," said Mr. McCory. "You can call me Teigue if you like, or Thomas if ye prefer. Some blokes onboard call me Tall Teigue which I don't mind; everyone sort of acquires new names in this enterprise," he smiled to himself. "You'll have one as well, in time." Jack was too exhausted to speak. Now that he had come all this way, and obtained what could be the first step towards what he had always desired he suddenly felt all of the pain, and emotional weariness which he had temporarily shut out. He just listened.
"The ship is called The Golden Bough," continued Tom. "And her captain's Henry Hawthorne." Jack looked surprised for a moment, Tom saw the fleeting look. "No, I'm not the captain. I'm not even first mate. I'm a crewman, same as you. I volunteered to go ashore to fill up the crew for the captain. I take it you don't have anywhere to go," he rubbed his chin once more. "I don't see why I can't bring you onboard straight away."
Jack stared at Mr. McCory, his dark eyes filling with a strange light. He smiled. "So, Teigue," he said. "That's all? I just go onboard, and I'll have a uniform and all?" Mr. McCory frowned, and put both hands on the table. Jack's smile faded an inch.
"Jackie," he said slowly. "You're after thinkin' I'm with the navy?" Jack suddenly felt cold rush through him and he opened his mouth but couldn't get it to reply. "No, we're not with His Majesty's." He felt sorry for disappointing Jack, so he cut short his explanation. "We serve the King, to be sure, but we're his loyal privateers not his regular navy." There was a pause in which Mr. McCory expected Jack to either leave, or stay and Jack stayed but said nothing. Suddenly Tom knew what the trouble was.
"D'ye not know what a privateer is?" he ventured to the wide-eyed Jack.
"I don't sir," admitted Jack who was somewhere between hopes. Mr. McCory ran a weary hand over his face and seemed likewise conflicted. He once again abbreviated.
"We are legal pirates," he said. Jack's eyes widened further for an instant before he relaxed as he was finally catching on. "The King sends a letter of marque which authorises sailors to pirate ships of other countries. The letter saves them from the law, at least the King's law." Jack looked suspiciously over at Mr. McCory who continued. "It's a dangerous game, Mr. Sparrow. I don't want ye if I can't trust that you're really for it all. I know you were thinkin' of the blue backs but we ain't them."
He paused, trying to read Jack's face which, at this moment, hid the thoughts behind it like a mask. He was somewhat surprised by the cold look in the young man's eye, the determined line his mouth had drawn across his rather fresh and impish face. What was it lurking in the depths of that dark eye, like a creature barely seen, beautiful and terrible at once? Was it disgust? Could it be fear? He didn't know, and never could say what he had seen there. There was a man behind the eyes now were there had only been a lad before. He suddenly discerned an urgency as he felt the flash of the young man's eye.
"We're just as loyal to our King," he said nearly unawares. He was searching for a way to reach this raw castaway. "Only we work covertly," he explained. "And get some bonuses."
"You mean, treasure?" said Jack coldly. "Booty, I'd imagine?" The older man nodded, and added a curt 'aye'. Jack looked thoughtfully at his hands and the tatters of his shirt. So, this wasn't his dream coming to fruition, as he had thought. He had never heard of privateering, and the idea that it was piracy, albeit legal piracy, didn't make the prospect very appealing.
Mr. McCory saw the concern and disappointment on Jack's face and looked at him sympathetically. "Look," he said. "You don't need to decide right now," Jack looked over at him once more. "I'll take you to the captain, you can have something to eat, and a place to stay the night at least. And I promise we won't steal ya," he added with a grin.
Jack smiled back and the two of them laughed softly. In the brief pause between the two men a hundred things passed through Jack's mind. There was his desperate present needs first of food and shelter. Then, from the darkest depths of Jack Sparrow, came a calling which he had never felt before. Even earlier, when he had raced to the pub to meet his destiny, he hadn't felt this grave and insistent tug from within. He had to resist the urge to touch his breast, to feel the tug with his finger tips, so strong and real was the feeling that this was not disappointment. It was, certainly, neither postponement and that is what intrigued him.
"Alright, Tom," said Jack. "I'll consider your... proposal." A sly grin spread across his face, and this time he smiled with his eyes. "Consider it only, savvy?" The other man returned the smile.
"Aye, Mr. Sparrow," said Tom. Jack placed his hands upon the table, now looking exceedingly poised for a castaway.
"Call me Jack," he smirked.