Disclaimer: I do not own anything directly from or pertaining to Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (2003). I swear, Disney owns it all.
Attention!!! This is a oneshot. This comes from "Soaring Scarlet", another Jack Sparrow story I've written, and basically, it'll explain how Jack got his beads, in my creative imagination...
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Jack Sparrow set his first foot on Indian soil, and sighed. This certainly wasn't quite where he wanted to be, but he also needed to be with a ship, be with the ocean. He couldn't survive without the ocean, and he knew it.
His current captain was a man named Pierre Lavallé. The man was skinny as a rat, and almost looked like one too. Jack was disgusted with himself. He had vowed not to be captained by anyone anymore, after Edward Leander, but he needed the money.
What he needed was his own ship. What he needed was his Pearl back again, instead of this rat-man, and his rat ship, the Ronguer (which was ironically named.)
"Go on, lads." Lavallé said in his snivelling little voice, and Jack wanted to deck him, right then and there. "Have a bit of fun. We'll be here for awhile."
The rest of the crew answered with an "Aye aye Cap'n." Jack remained silent as they all headed their seperate ways.
"Jack." Lavallé stepped in front of him, blocking his way.
"What, Captain?" Jack asked, putting particular emphasis on the word captain. "I was on m'way out."
"You better shape up young lad." The pirate captain said, his voice holding such a French accent that Jack was surprised that he actually spoke English. "I won't hold with insubordinates such as yourself."
Jack was too tired to tell the snotty little man that 'insubordanites' wasn't actually a word, and simply answered "Yes Captain." He was gone before Lavallé could make any other comments towards him.
He found his way into the little port village looking around as he did so. Apparently, the name of this place was Shekra. Jack didn't know if that had a special meaning to the people of India, or if it was the Indian word for pig. Shekra. This was where he'd be spending the next eight months, so he'd better get used to it...
The pirate promptly found himself a bar.
Five months, three weeks, and two days until the Ronguer set sail again, and Jack knew because he was counting. Not right now, of course. Right now, he was lying face down in a pile of damp, dirty hay. This was because he'd gotten himself thoroughly drunk the night before, and was trying without avail to shield his eyes from the bright sun. The damn thing just kept creeping around to his eyes, and Jack thought that he was probably blind already.
No matter, Jack thought. And he rolled over and sat up anyway. Who needs eyes, right?
Once his eyes had finally adjusted to the glaring light, he blinked a couple of times, and looked around a bit.
"Jesus!" He cursed loudly, and jumped at least a foot.
He put his hands out in front of himself, and stared at the little Indian girl who was holding his pistol. She couldn't have been more than six years old.
"Just.. give me th'gun, luv." He said softly, trying to sound soothing. "Just hand it over to Jack here."
"Je ne vous comprends pas. Parlez-vous français?" The girl said in absolutely perfect French.
(A/N: From now on I'll continue their conversation in English... makes it easier on me, and any other non-French speakers. By the way, those that speak French, can indeed correct me if my grammar is wrong, or whatever..)
Jack nodded. "Yes." He also replied in French. "Give me th'gun, luv."
The girl shrugged her tiny shoulders, and handed the gun to him. He snatched it from her hands "Whatever you say mister. What's your name?"
"Jack." He muttered, shoving the pistol back in his belt. "Jack Sparrow. Who're ye?" He had to wonder what it was she saw. He looked himself up and down, already knowing what his face looked like. Boots, a typical baggy white shirt, and a red bandana holding his thick dark hair back. His eyes were lined with black kohl, to shield them from the sun somewhat, and he had a few gold teeth replacing his real ones (as a result of a few fights he'd been in.)
"Pantoufle." The litte girl said boldly, and Jack wrinkled his nose at her.
"Who named ye that god awful name?" Jack asked, then immediately wanted to take it back. It wasn't a bad name.. it was just that 'pantoufle' meant 'slipper' in English, and he thought it a bit odd.
"A French lady." The girl replied, and crossed her brown arms over the dirty dress she wore. "And I like my name." Pantoufle was just a little girl, with long dark hair, and bare feet. It was her eyes that caught Jack's attention. They were dark, so dark that he thought of chocolate, that wonderful luxury from Europe.
"Sorry." Jack muttered, levering himself to his feet, slightly shaky. He gave one more look at the strange Indian girl who spoke perfect French, and was named for a slipper, Pantoufle, and strode into the village.
It wasn't until he was paying a woman for an apple, that he noticed she had followed him, absolutely silently, and was standing there behind him, just watching.
"What d'ye want?" He asked a bit impatiently, turning to face her, and forgetting that she didn't understand English. So he tried again, this time in French. "What d'ye want?"
"You're a pirate, are you not?" Pantoufle asked, seeming to carefully measure her words.
Jack nodded brusquely. "I am, luv. Ye shouldn't be followin' me."
"Well, mister Sparrow, sir, I must admit that a pirate was exactly what I was looking for." The girl said, and again, Jack noticed her eloquence, and perfect pronunciation. "You see, I've a desire to be a pirate one day myself. Therefore, I need a pirate to learn from."
"Whoa whoa!" Jack said, stumbling backwards a few steps. "Not good! Not good."
"What's not good mister Sparrow?" Pantoufle asked innocently, her wide eyes questioning him.
"I can't teach ye anythin'." Jack shook his head like a wet dog, his thick hair whirling about his head.
"That's certainly untrue, mister Sparrow." Pantoufle corrected him. "You can teach me all a manner of things. The question is, whether or not you choose to do so."
"I choose no." Jack answered immediately, then felt a bit guilty. "Look, luv, I'm a pirate! Pirate's cut people's heads off, and steal, and shoot people, and stuff!"
"I know." She said simply. "I want to be a pirate. Teach me, mister Sparrow. Please?"
"No!" Jack said loudly, and staggered off towards the Ronguer, meaning to collaspe below deck, in the comforting dark.
The slightly drunk pirate took about half a dozen steps before he ran into a woman, and knocked her down. Of course, he landed on top of her. This might not have been such a big deal, except for the fact that her husband didn't like that too much.
He hauled Jack to his feet, and decked him one, sending him crashing into a cart.
Jack scrunched his face up a little bit, sighed, and opened his eyes. He didn't sit up, but looked around anyway. He was lying in the shade under some sort tree that he couldn't name. The sun was going down, make beautiful pink and orange reflections on the clouds. He would never admit it to any living soul, but he loved the way the clouds looked, both at sunrise, and sunset. In fact, his favourite thing in the world (other than his Pearl) was the orangey colour the whole sky looked just before the sun went down.
Pantoufle's face loomed in front of his. "Oh, good, you're awake."
Jack yelled, and rolled away from her. "Christ, girl! Just leave me alone!"
"Mister Sparrow, I saved you." She scolded him. "That man hit you very hard, and probably would've killed you. I told him not to, and he laughed, and walked away."
Jack sat up, shaking his head to get rid of the fuzziness that still lingered. "How'd ye get me under this tree?"
She shrugged. "I dragged you."
"Huh." Jack said, pushing himself to his feet. "Ah-right then, luv. I'll teach ye a few things. Will ye be leavin' me alone after that?"
Pantoufle nodded solemnly.
"Find some sticks, luv. Long enough t'be swords." He told her, and so she did, giving him the longest of the two.
He stood easily, with his "sword" down, almost touching the ground. "Okay, luv. Try t'hit me."
Pantoufle swung upward, and Jack blocked it quickly. She swung to the side, and he parried.
They continued with this for a few more minutes, then Jack stopped her. "Don't hold the thing as it ye're tryin' to beat me feet t'death." He told her. "Just use one hand."
She did as he said silently.
"Also, don't try t'hit me sword. Aim for me, not th'stick. The stick can't die, but I can, so go fer hittin' me skin." He told her, and she promptly lashed out at his ribs.
He still parried it, but she'd gotten the drift of what he was saying.
Jack actually found himself having fun with this girl, Pantoufle. He found that odd. He didn't care too awfully much for children, but Pantoufle seemed different. So quiet, and well spoken.
She missed again, and Jack grinned. "Try a bit harder, luv."
Over the next five and a half months, Jack showed Pantoufle everything he could possibly show to her, taught her everything he could think of.
He'd even snuck her onto the Ronguer for a tour, to show her what it was like, and explained to her how everything worked, while keeping away from Lavallé.
There was a bond between the interesting pirate, and the little Indian girl that Jack couldn't explain, much less understand. He simply accepted it for what it was.
However, time was flying by, and Jack certainly noticed. He had such a short time with Pantoufle, and it saddened him, but he didn't tell her that he was leaving soon, couldn't tell her. Because he didn't want to leave her. And yet, at the same time, he needed to go. He'd been stuck on land for far too long, and if he stayed for any longer, he'd go crazy with the need for the ocean, and he knew it.
So he continued spending all his time with Pantoufle, realizing that he'd not had a drink since the night before he'd met the girl.
Then the day came for Jack to leave. Lavallé had ordered his men to be back at the ship at 11 o'clock that morning, and Jack knew that he must be on that ship when it left. That was the way it would have to be.
So he sat Pantoufle down a little while before he had to go, and looked at her seriously.
"Pantoufle." He said solemnly. "I have t'leave today."
She looked at him curiously. "Go where?"
"Go away on th'ship. To th'ocean." He tried to explain.
"Well take me with you then." She said simply. "I have no belongings to get. I'll go with you."
"Ye can't darlin'." Jack said, trying to get past the lump in his throat. "Me life isn't suited for little girls. 'Tis too dangerous."
"That's not true." Pantoufle whispered. "I know how to be a pirate. Please, Jack. Don't leave me here."
"Pantoufle." Jack said softly. "I can't. Ye know that."
Pantoufle's chin trembled for a moment, and then she began to cry silently. "Please Jack." She pleaded with him, and Jack found himself crying too.
"Here, luv." He said quietly, and pressing a bandana exactly akin to his own into her hands. "Don't ferget me, ah-right?"
She clutched the bandana to her chest for a moment, then threw her arms around his neck. "Oh Jack." She said. "I knew you'd have to go."
"I know." Jack whispered into her hair. "Goodbye Pantoufle. We'll meet again, someday."
He then pulled away from her, looked at her pretty little face once more, and began to leave.
She grabbed his hand, and he looked back. She put a small cloth satchel into his hand. "I knew you had to go." She said again, still crying. "This is for you."
Jack didn't say anything, he simply returned to the Ronguer, just as they were setting sail.
As the beautiful ship was fading into the distance, Jack looked back, once. And only once.
His heart broke in that moment, because his soul was focussed on the little Indian girl named Pantoufle, who was cryin at the dock, watching her best friend in the world, sailing away. She probably knew she would never see him again. She was so smart, it wouldn't have surprised Jack.
He forgot about the satchel that Pantoufle had given him, until the next week, and they were far away from Shekra.
As he remembered, he pulled it from his pocket, and spilled its contents into his hand.
It was beads. Beads of every colour, and Jack could've cried right then.
These simple beads were Pantoufle's pride and joy. She'd been collecting them her entire life, and now she'd given them all to Jack.
The pirate sat down heavily on the deck, and rolled them about in his hand. Then, with a sigh, he began to braid them into his dark hair, thinking of his best friend while he did so.
"What're those?" A crewmate asked him, and Jack looked at him with sad eyes.
"These are me heart, mate."
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Okay, so there ya go. That's my take on the beads. Please review, and I'll thank you in advance, considering this will not have another chapter.
I know, those that have read Soaring Scarlet, I know this is a bit off from the story that Jack told, but let me tell you... I don't speak French, and I sort of screwed myself into Pantoufle speaking French... which was.. difficult... to say the least.. lol..
Anyway, please review?? Please, please, please??? grins hopefully
-Abbie
Attention!!! This is a oneshot. This comes from "Soaring Scarlet", another Jack Sparrow story I've written, and basically, it'll explain how Jack got his beads, in my creative imagination...
----------
Jack Sparrow set his first foot on Indian soil, and sighed. This certainly wasn't quite where he wanted to be, but he also needed to be with a ship, be with the ocean. He couldn't survive without the ocean, and he knew it.
His current captain was a man named Pierre Lavallé. The man was skinny as a rat, and almost looked like one too. Jack was disgusted with himself. He had vowed not to be captained by anyone anymore, after Edward Leander, but he needed the money.
What he needed was his own ship. What he needed was his Pearl back again, instead of this rat-man, and his rat ship, the Ronguer (which was ironically named.)
"Go on, lads." Lavallé said in his snivelling little voice, and Jack wanted to deck him, right then and there. "Have a bit of fun. We'll be here for awhile."
The rest of the crew answered with an "Aye aye Cap'n." Jack remained silent as they all headed their seperate ways.
"Jack." Lavallé stepped in front of him, blocking his way.
"What, Captain?" Jack asked, putting particular emphasis on the word captain. "I was on m'way out."
"You better shape up young lad." The pirate captain said, his voice holding such a French accent that Jack was surprised that he actually spoke English. "I won't hold with insubordinates such as yourself."
Jack was too tired to tell the snotty little man that 'insubordanites' wasn't actually a word, and simply answered "Yes Captain." He was gone before Lavallé could make any other comments towards him.
He found his way into the little port village looking around as he did so. Apparently, the name of this place was Shekra. Jack didn't know if that had a special meaning to the people of India, or if it was the Indian word for pig. Shekra. This was where he'd be spending the next eight months, so he'd better get used to it...
The pirate promptly found himself a bar.
Five months, three weeks, and two days until the Ronguer set sail again, and Jack knew because he was counting. Not right now, of course. Right now, he was lying face down in a pile of damp, dirty hay. This was because he'd gotten himself thoroughly drunk the night before, and was trying without avail to shield his eyes from the bright sun. The damn thing just kept creeping around to his eyes, and Jack thought that he was probably blind already.
No matter, Jack thought. And he rolled over and sat up anyway. Who needs eyes, right?
Once his eyes had finally adjusted to the glaring light, he blinked a couple of times, and looked around a bit.
"Jesus!" He cursed loudly, and jumped at least a foot.
He put his hands out in front of himself, and stared at the little Indian girl who was holding his pistol. She couldn't have been more than six years old.
"Just.. give me th'gun, luv." He said softly, trying to sound soothing. "Just hand it over to Jack here."
"Je ne vous comprends pas. Parlez-vous français?" The girl said in absolutely perfect French.
(A/N: From now on I'll continue their conversation in English... makes it easier on me, and any other non-French speakers. By the way, those that speak French, can indeed correct me if my grammar is wrong, or whatever..)
Jack nodded. "Yes." He also replied in French. "Give me th'gun, luv."
The girl shrugged her tiny shoulders, and handed the gun to him. He snatched it from her hands "Whatever you say mister. What's your name?"
"Jack." He muttered, shoving the pistol back in his belt. "Jack Sparrow. Who're ye?" He had to wonder what it was she saw. He looked himself up and down, already knowing what his face looked like. Boots, a typical baggy white shirt, and a red bandana holding his thick dark hair back. His eyes were lined with black kohl, to shield them from the sun somewhat, and he had a few gold teeth replacing his real ones (as a result of a few fights he'd been in.)
"Pantoufle." The litte girl said boldly, and Jack wrinkled his nose at her.
"Who named ye that god awful name?" Jack asked, then immediately wanted to take it back. It wasn't a bad name.. it was just that 'pantoufle' meant 'slipper' in English, and he thought it a bit odd.
"A French lady." The girl replied, and crossed her brown arms over the dirty dress she wore. "And I like my name." Pantoufle was just a little girl, with long dark hair, and bare feet. It was her eyes that caught Jack's attention. They were dark, so dark that he thought of chocolate, that wonderful luxury from Europe.
"Sorry." Jack muttered, levering himself to his feet, slightly shaky. He gave one more look at the strange Indian girl who spoke perfect French, and was named for a slipper, Pantoufle, and strode into the village.
It wasn't until he was paying a woman for an apple, that he noticed she had followed him, absolutely silently, and was standing there behind him, just watching.
"What d'ye want?" He asked a bit impatiently, turning to face her, and forgetting that she didn't understand English. So he tried again, this time in French. "What d'ye want?"
"You're a pirate, are you not?" Pantoufle asked, seeming to carefully measure her words.
Jack nodded brusquely. "I am, luv. Ye shouldn't be followin' me."
"Well, mister Sparrow, sir, I must admit that a pirate was exactly what I was looking for." The girl said, and again, Jack noticed her eloquence, and perfect pronunciation. "You see, I've a desire to be a pirate one day myself. Therefore, I need a pirate to learn from."
"Whoa whoa!" Jack said, stumbling backwards a few steps. "Not good! Not good."
"What's not good mister Sparrow?" Pantoufle asked innocently, her wide eyes questioning him.
"I can't teach ye anythin'." Jack shook his head like a wet dog, his thick hair whirling about his head.
"That's certainly untrue, mister Sparrow." Pantoufle corrected him. "You can teach me all a manner of things. The question is, whether or not you choose to do so."
"I choose no." Jack answered immediately, then felt a bit guilty. "Look, luv, I'm a pirate! Pirate's cut people's heads off, and steal, and shoot people, and stuff!"
"I know." She said simply. "I want to be a pirate. Teach me, mister Sparrow. Please?"
"No!" Jack said loudly, and staggered off towards the Ronguer, meaning to collaspe below deck, in the comforting dark.
The slightly drunk pirate took about half a dozen steps before he ran into a woman, and knocked her down. Of course, he landed on top of her. This might not have been such a big deal, except for the fact that her husband didn't like that too much.
He hauled Jack to his feet, and decked him one, sending him crashing into a cart.
Jack scrunched his face up a little bit, sighed, and opened his eyes. He didn't sit up, but looked around anyway. He was lying in the shade under some sort tree that he couldn't name. The sun was going down, make beautiful pink and orange reflections on the clouds. He would never admit it to any living soul, but he loved the way the clouds looked, both at sunrise, and sunset. In fact, his favourite thing in the world (other than his Pearl) was the orangey colour the whole sky looked just before the sun went down.
Pantoufle's face loomed in front of his. "Oh, good, you're awake."
Jack yelled, and rolled away from her. "Christ, girl! Just leave me alone!"
"Mister Sparrow, I saved you." She scolded him. "That man hit you very hard, and probably would've killed you. I told him not to, and he laughed, and walked away."
Jack sat up, shaking his head to get rid of the fuzziness that still lingered. "How'd ye get me under this tree?"
She shrugged. "I dragged you."
"Huh." Jack said, pushing himself to his feet. "Ah-right then, luv. I'll teach ye a few things. Will ye be leavin' me alone after that?"
Pantoufle nodded solemnly.
"Find some sticks, luv. Long enough t'be swords." He told her, and so she did, giving him the longest of the two.
He stood easily, with his "sword" down, almost touching the ground. "Okay, luv. Try t'hit me."
Pantoufle swung upward, and Jack blocked it quickly. She swung to the side, and he parried.
They continued with this for a few more minutes, then Jack stopped her. "Don't hold the thing as it ye're tryin' to beat me feet t'death." He told her. "Just use one hand."
She did as he said silently.
"Also, don't try t'hit me sword. Aim for me, not th'stick. The stick can't die, but I can, so go fer hittin' me skin." He told her, and she promptly lashed out at his ribs.
He still parried it, but she'd gotten the drift of what he was saying.
Jack actually found himself having fun with this girl, Pantoufle. He found that odd. He didn't care too awfully much for children, but Pantoufle seemed different. So quiet, and well spoken.
She missed again, and Jack grinned. "Try a bit harder, luv."
Over the next five and a half months, Jack showed Pantoufle everything he could possibly show to her, taught her everything he could think of.
He'd even snuck her onto the Ronguer for a tour, to show her what it was like, and explained to her how everything worked, while keeping away from Lavallé.
There was a bond between the interesting pirate, and the little Indian girl that Jack couldn't explain, much less understand. He simply accepted it for what it was.
However, time was flying by, and Jack certainly noticed. He had such a short time with Pantoufle, and it saddened him, but he didn't tell her that he was leaving soon, couldn't tell her. Because he didn't want to leave her. And yet, at the same time, he needed to go. He'd been stuck on land for far too long, and if he stayed for any longer, he'd go crazy with the need for the ocean, and he knew it.
So he continued spending all his time with Pantoufle, realizing that he'd not had a drink since the night before he'd met the girl.
Then the day came for Jack to leave. Lavallé had ordered his men to be back at the ship at 11 o'clock that morning, and Jack knew that he must be on that ship when it left. That was the way it would have to be.
So he sat Pantoufle down a little while before he had to go, and looked at her seriously.
"Pantoufle." He said solemnly. "I have t'leave today."
She looked at him curiously. "Go where?"
"Go away on th'ship. To th'ocean." He tried to explain.
"Well take me with you then." She said simply. "I have no belongings to get. I'll go with you."
"Ye can't darlin'." Jack said, trying to get past the lump in his throat. "Me life isn't suited for little girls. 'Tis too dangerous."
"That's not true." Pantoufle whispered. "I know how to be a pirate. Please, Jack. Don't leave me here."
"Pantoufle." Jack said softly. "I can't. Ye know that."
Pantoufle's chin trembled for a moment, and then she began to cry silently. "Please Jack." She pleaded with him, and Jack found himself crying too.
"Here, luv." He said quietly, and pressing a bandana exactly akin to his own into her hands. "Don't ferget me, ah-right?"
She clutched the bandana to her chest for a moment, then threw her arms around his neck. "Oh Jack." She said. "I knew you'd have to go."
"I know." Jack whispered into her hair. "Goodbye Pantoufle. We'll meet again, someday."
He then pulled away from her, looked at her pretty little face once more, and began to leave.
She grabbed his hand, and he looked back. She put a small cloth satchel into his hand. "I knew you had to go." She said again, still crying. "This is for you."
Jack didn't say anything, he simply returned to the Ronguer, just as they were setting sail.
As the beautiful ship was fading into the distance, Jack looked back, once. And only once.
His heart broke in that moment, because his soul was focussed on the little Indian girl named Pantoufle, who was cryin at the dock, watching her best friend in the world, sailing away. She probably knew she would never see him again. She was so smart, it wouldn't have surprised Jack.
He forgot about the satchel that Pantoufle had given him, until the next week, and they were far away from Shekra.
As he remembered, he pulled it from his pocket, and spilled its contents into his hand.
It was beads. Beads of every colour, and Jack could've cried right then.
These simple beads were Pantoufle's pride and joy. She'd been collecting them her entire life, and now she'd given them all to Jack.
The pirate sat down heavily on the deck, and rolled them about in his hand. Then, with a sigh, he began to braid them into his dark hair, thinking of his best friend while he did so.
"What're those?" A crewmate asked him, and Jack looked at him with sad eyes.
"These are me heart, mate."
------------
Okay, so there ya go. That's my take on the beads. Please review, and I'll thank you in advance, considering this will not have another chapter.
I know, those that have read Soaring Scarlet, I know this is a bit off from the story that Jack told, but let me tell you... I don't speak French, and I sort of screwed myself into Pantoufle speaking French... which was.. difficult... to say the least.. lol..
Anyway, please review?? Please, please, please??? grins hopefully
-Abbie