A/N Next chapter of my story!!
Thanks to Shiranai Seito for my first review!! Please R &R!!
Chapter One
I was only five years old when I first heard the name of Jack Sparrow. We were still residing in England, my mother a popular woman at court, and my father a money thirsty baron, sucking the land around him dry. We owned a large estate, just outside the outskirts of London, we also had in our possession a town house, near to court where my mother spent most of her days. My father preferred the quiet more productive life of the country land owner. Stealing food from the very mouths of the peasants that worked our lands.
I lived happily, in my groove for many years, not seeing any further then I wished, shutting my eyes to the bad aspects of life, taking in only the goodness of my parents.
We went on holiday, to spend a couple of weeks by the coast with my cousins. They owned a huge manor beside the sea, and my mother, who was suffering with her bones again, thought the sea air would do us all some good. It was hard for her to leave the court, and my father refused to leave his estate without running through the list over twenty times with his manager.
But eventually we set off in our luxury carriage to cousin Rudolph's house beside the sea.
As a five year old, who had never seen the sea before, it opened up a whole world of mysteries to me. And it was not long before I was begging cousin Rudolph for his stories of the smugglers, the wreckers and most importantly the pirates.
Rudolph Harping was an ageing man, who struggled for attention at the best of times, when presented with an apt five year old who lapped up his every word he suddenly regained his former self, and was more alive I was told then he had been for the last ten years. His daughter and son in law, lived with him, and their children. I didn't think much of them, and hardly saw them the five weeks we spent in the house.
"Tell me more." I begged, one evening. Rudolph sat by the fire, an open book perched on his lap. His daughter was sitting across from him, doing some needlework. He snapped the book shut.
"I'll do better then that, my dearest Theodora. What say I take you down to the beach on the morrow and show you the caves?" He said, happily, ruffling my hair with his print stained hand.
I smiled, my eyes shone with excitement. "Promise?" Asked the innocent child, I once was. He nodded and held up his right hand. "I solemnly swear that I will take you, weather permitting." That night, in my dreams, I was visited by the famous wreckers, shining their misleading torches on the rocks, the pirates plundering our shores, and the smugglers as they bundled their booty down the mazes of caves, carved long ago by the sea into the rocky cliffs.
The next day I was awoken by the scurrying maids, dressed and breakfasted before Rudolph had even emerged from bed. I was sitting, waiting for him in the drawing room, amusing my five year old self, by pouring over a book on wreckers. Not reading of course, but the pictures were fascinating. I jumped up when the door opened, thinking it was cousin Rudolph. But standing in the doorway was the form of Roberto, Rudolph's grandson, and my third cousin.
Roberto was two years my senior, and used this age difference to his full advantage. Everything I knew, he knew more, everything I did, he could do better. He grinned as he marched into the room. He picked up the book I was looking at.
"What you doing in here?" He asked, innocence flashing briefly across his mischievous face.
"Cousin Rudolph is taking me to see the caves."
"I'm coming, too." He said, without hesitation. That basically summed Roberto up, he was not one to wait for an invitation, rather make one for himself.
In due course Rudolph arrived, he was pleased to find his grandson a willing companion, as Roberto had never before shown any interest in the myths of the coast. But he could not bare the thought of me beating him at something, even it was so trivial as having seen the caves.
Rudolph led us down the coast path. Roberto jumped on ahead, leaping down the steep steps, as sure footed as 'a mountain goat'.
I lagged behind with my cousin, he helped me down the difficult bits, and I clung to his wrinkled hand. Eventually we reached the golden sands of the beach, Roberto was already there, kicking the sand into the sky with his brown boots. Rudolph told him off, but with no real conviction.
Roberto raced on ahead, as we struggled across the dry sand. It slipped away from under our feet, making walking difficult. After about ten minutes we reached the rocks. Rudolph led us over them and into the mouth of a cave. It was large, and he could walk through it without having to duck his head. But with no light it was hard to see where we were going, and even Roberto gripped Rudolph's hand. The cave branched off into two separate ways.
"You can't go that way, it's blocked off, and this way leads to a dead end."
"Why's it blocked off?" Roberto asked, obstinately.
Rudolph chuckled, merrily. "Ah, there is an ancient myth that the pirates gathered all their booty, and buried it in the cave. They blocked it off so none could ever reach it."
"Can't we dig for it?" Roberto asked.
Rudolph shook his head. "Is too dangerous, the cave could collapse if you start shifting the rock around. Come on." He led us back out into the daylight.
We continued to walk around the beach for a bit, Rudolph talking all the while about the old stories and fables. Roberto ran along side him, eagerly asking questions, I was happy just to listen.
It was there in the little cove we found the boy. I saw him first. "Look!" I shouted. "A person, a boy!" Rudolph dropped our hands and ran over to the figure, that lay unconscious half on the beach, half in the sea.
Rudolph felt for the boy's pulse, and checked he was breathing before he picked up easily in his hands. "He's still breathing, poor boy. He must have been here all night, we must take him with us back to the manor, and call for the doctor."
He began to walk back up the beach, holding the soaking, freezing boy delicately in his arms. "Roberto run ahead, get help."
Roberto set off up the beach, back the way we had came.
I stared into the boy's vacant face. I placed my small hands on his wet forehead, stroking the hair from his face.
Once back at the manor we lay him down in one of the guest rooms, where the doctor attended him. After several days of care, food and warmth, he awoke. I was mystified, as he pushed himself up from the feather bed. He recollected nothing of how he had arrived on the beach, he talked little of his former life, and it was the general agreement that he should stay at the manor and work for his keep. And so Rudolph set him to work in the stables. And that is how Jack Sparrow appeared in our lives.
Thanks to Shiranai Seito for my first review!! Please R &R!!
Chapter One
I was only five years old when I first heard the name of Jack Sparrow. We were still residing in England, my mother a popular woman at court, and my father a money thirsty baron, sucking the land around him dry. We owned a large estate, just outside the outskirts of London, we also had in our possession a town house, near to court where my mother spent most of her days. My father preferred the quiet more productive life of the country land owner. Stealing food from the very mouths of the peasants that worked our lands.
I lived happily, in my groove for many years, not seeing any further then I wished, shutting my eyes to the bad aspects of life, taking in only the goodness of my parents.
We went on holiday, to spend a couple of weeks by the coast with my cousins. They owned a huge manor beside the sea, and my mother, who was suffering with her bones again, thought the sea air would do us all some good. It was hard for her to leave the court, and my father refused to leave his estate without running through the list over twenty times with his manager.
But eventually we set off in our luxury carriage to cousin Rudolph's house beside the sea.
As a five year old, who had never seen the sea before, it opened up a whole world of mysteries to me. And it was not long before I was begging cousin Rudolph for his stories of the smugglers, the wreckers and most importantly the pirates.
Rudolph Harping was an ageing man, who struggled for attention at the best of times, when presented with an apt five year old who lapped up his every word he suddenly regained his former self, and was more alive I was told then he had been for the last ten years. His daughter and son in law, lived with him, and their children. I didn't think much of them, and hardly saw them the five weeks we spent in the house.
"Tell me more." I begged, one evening. Rudolph sat by the fire, an open book perched on his lap. His daughter was sitting across from him, doing some needlework. He snapped the book shut.
"I'll do better then that, my dearest Theodora. What say I take you down to the beach on the morrow and show you the caves?" He said, happily, ruffling my hair with his print stained hand.
I smiled, my eyes shone with excitement. "Promise?" Asked the innocent child, I once was. He nodded and held up his right hand. "I solemnly swear that I will take you, weather permitting." That night, in my dreams, I was visited by the famous wreckers, shining their misleading torches on the rocks, the pirates plundering our shores, and the smugglers as they bundled their booty down the mazes of caves, carved long ago by the sea into the rocky cliffs.
The next day I was awoken by the scurrying maids, dressed and breakfasted before Rudolph had even emerged from bed. I was sitting, waiting for him in the drawing room, amusing my five year old self, by pouring over a book on wreckers. Not reading of course, but the pictures were fascinating. I jumped up when the door opened, thinking it was cousin Rudolph. But standing in the doorway was the form of Roberto, Rudolph's grandson, and my third cousin.
Roberto was two years my senior, and used this age difference to his full advantage. Everything I knew, he knew more, everything I did, he could do better. He grinned as he marched into the room. He picked up the book I was looking at.
"What you doing in here?" He asked, innocence flashing briefly across his mischievous face.
"Cousin Rudolph is taking me to see the caves."
"I'm coming, too." He said, without hesitation. That basically summed Roberto up, he was not one to wait for an invitation, rather make one for himself.
In due course Rudolph arrived, he was pleased to find his grandson a willing companion, as Roberto had never before shown any interest in the myths of the coast. But he could not bare the thought of me beating him at something, even it was so trivial as having seen the caves.
Rudolph led us down the coast path. Roberto jumped on ahead, leaping down the steep steps, as sure footed as 'a mountain goat'.
I lagged behind with my cousin, he helped me down the difficult bits, and I clung to his wrinkled hand. Eventually we reached the golden sands of the beach, Roberto was already there, kicking the sand into the sky with his brown boots. Rudolph told him off, but with no real conviction.
Roberto raced on ahead, as we struggled across the dry sand. It slipped away from under our feet, making walking difficult. After about ten minutes we reached the rocks. Rudolph led us over them and into the mouth of a cave. It was large, and he could walk through it without having to duck his head. But with no light it was hard to see where we were going, and even Roberto gripped Rudolph's hand. The cave branched off into two separate ways.
"You can't go that way, it's blocked off, and this way leads to a dead end."
"Why's it blocked off?" Roberto asked, obstinately.
Rudolph chuckled, merrily. "Ah, there is an ancient myth that the pirates gathered all their booty, and buried it in the cave. They blocked it off so none could ever reach it."
"Can't we dig for it?" Roberto asked.
Rudolph shook his head. "Is too dangerous, the cave could collapse if you start shifting the rock around. Come on." He led us back out into the daylight.
We continued to walk around the beach for a bit, Rudolph talking all the while about the old stories and fables. Roberto ran along side him, eagerly asking questions, I was happy just to listen.
It was there in the little cove we found the boy. I saw him first. "Look!" I shouted. "A person, a boy!" Rudolph dropped our hands and ran over to the figure, that lay unconscious half on the beach, half in the sea.
Rudolph felt for the boy's pulse, and checked he was breathing before he picked up easily in his hands. "He's still breathing, poor boy. He must have been here all night, we must take him with us back to the manor, and call for the doctor."
He began to walk back up the beach, holding the soaking, freezing boy delicately in his arms. "Roberto run ahead, get help."
Roberto set off up the beach, back the way we had came.
I stared into the boy's vacant face. I placed my small hands on his wet forehead, stroking the hair from his face.
Once back at the manor we lay him down in one of the guest rooms, where the doctor attended him. After several days of care, food and warmth, he awoke. I was mystified, as he pushed himself up from the feather bed. He recollected nothing of how he had arrived on the beach, he talked little of his former life, and it was the general agreement that he should stay at the manor and work for his keep. And so Rudolph set him to work in the stables. And that is how Jack Sparrow appeared in our lives.