The Rumrunners had to be, without a doubt, some of the rowdiest people Jack had ever known. Of course, given their trade, it was no surprise. And it wasn't as though Jack minded. The rum helped to fuel the anger and take away the pain of what Barbossa had done to him.
Jack served the Rumrunners for four months, as payment for his salvation from the deserted island. They invited him to stay, and it was certainly tempting, but revenge was on Jack's mind now, and he really did not want to serve on a ship-he wanted to captain one.
Jack knew the best place to buy information in the Caribbean was the island of Tortuga, and it did not take much convincing to get the Rumrunners to leave him there. After all, Tortuga was a pirates' paradise, with plenty of wine and women all around. So he left the Rumrunners in a tavern and set out to find a source of information.
Although the denizens of Tortuga had always been more than willing to sell information in the past, Jack was surprised to discover that no one wanted to discuss the fate of The Black Pearl, no matter how much he offered. Even the lowest scoundrels who Jack believed would have sold their own mothers for a bit of gold paled at the mere mention of the ship, claiming they knew nothing and shooing Jack away.
After a week of no success, Jack was about ready to give up on Tortuga as a source of information. He was not ready to give up on his mission to reclaim his ship and to get revenge on his mutinous First Mate, but he was starting to think he would have to go elsewhere. He was stumbling through the streets after a night of too much rum (if three even was such a thing), when he practically fell over the unconscious body of Joshamee Gibbs.
Joshamee and Jack went back a long time, and Jack knew that if there was anyone he could convince to tell him whatever rumors were circulating, Gibbs was that person. It took some effort for Jack to drag the much larger man's unconscious dead weight into a room in an inn, but he managed despite having had too much to drink himself, and without causing Gibbs to so much as moan in his sleep. The man stunk to high heaven, but Jack was so drunk himself, he hardly cared.
Gibbs slept well into the following afternoon. When he awoke, his pleasure at seeing his old friend quickly dissipated when Jack began to question him about the Pearl.
"Haven't you heard the stories?" Gibbs asked, glancing around as though he fully expected to be ambushed at any moment.
"No, I haven't," Jack said. "I was rather hoping you might tell them to me yourself."
Gibbs looked leaned in towards Jack, his voice lowered to a whisper. "They say the whole crew is cursed."
Jack smiled. "You sound almost as if you believe that, mate."
Gibbs eyes were wide as saucers. "I do. I know someone who heard one of Barbossa's men talking about it. How they took the forbidden treasure and have been cursed."
Jack sighed. "Here I thought you were finally sober."
"It's true, I tell you!" Gibbs insisted.
"And what is the nature of this curse?" Jack asked mockingly.
Gibbs' voice dropped even lower. "No one knows for sure. But I also know, it is a curse they cannot cure."
Jack sighed. He was beginning to think that maybe Gibbs would not be such a good source of information after all. "And why is that."
"Well, I'll tell you. They say the heathen gods demand the blood of every fool who touched the treasure. Trouble is, Barbossa already killed one of his crew."
Jack's stomach clenched. Suddenly, he was not so amused. "Barbossa killed one of the crew before he learned he needed his blood."
Gibbs nodded eagerly. "They say the sailor remained loyal to you, Jack. They say he sent a piece of the treasure away so they would stay cursed forever. Well, Barbossa was right furious, as you can imagine. So he tied a canon to the sailor's bootstraps and sent him plunging into the sea."
William...
Jack leapt out of his seat and grabbed Gibbs by the collar. "You're lying," he growled furiously, giving the shocked Gibbs a shake. "You're lying to me!"
"Jack, I'm only telling you what I heard!"
"Admit that you're lying, you scabby bastard!"
"Jack! I'm telling you what I heard, no more! Maybe it's not true."
"No," Jack said softly. He released his hold on Gibbs' collar and sunk back into his chair. The sinking feeling in his gut told him it would true. William, beautiful, gentle William, gasping for air as he sunk to the bottom of the sea...
"Jack?"
Jack started. For a moment, he had forgotten Gibbs was there.
"Are you alright, Jack?"
"Yes," Jack said, his voice not at all convincing. "Yes, I am."
"You need a drink," Gibbs said knowingly, and Jack nodded and followed the older man down into the bar where he drank himself into a stupor.
As he dragged himself to his room and collapsed onto the mattress, Jack was distressed to find that the alcohol had not numbed the pain. William Turner's face kept flashing in his mind. It was as though Jack could still feel those fingers against his chest, those lips against his own. And William had stood up for his former captain-had died a horrible death for him. With the sounds of Gibbs' snores drifting over him, Jack buried his face in his mattress and for the first time since he was a lad, Jack Sparrow found himself shedding tears until sleep finally claimed him.
Jack served the Rumrunners for four months, as payment for his salvation from the deserted island. They invited him to stay, and it was certainly tempting, but revenge was on Jack's mind now, and he really did not want to serve on a ship-he wanted to captain one.
Jack knew the best place to buy information in the Caribbean was the island of Tortuga, and it did not take much convincing to get the Rumrunners to leave him there. After all, Tortuga was a pirates' paradise, with plenty of wine and women all around. So he left the Rumrunners in a tavern and set out to find a source of information.
Although the denizens of Tortuga had always been more than willing to sell information in the past, Jack was surprised to discover that no one wanted to discuss the fate of The Black Pearl, no matter how much he offered. Even the lowest scoundrels who Jack believed would have sold their own mothers for a bit of gold paled at the mere mention of the ship, claiming they knew nothing and shooing Jack away.
After a week of no success, Jack was about ready to give up on Tortuga as a source of information. He was not ready to give up on his mission to reclaim his ship and to get revenge on his mutinous First Mate, but he was starting to think he would have to go elsewhere. He was stumbling through the streets after a night of too much rum (if three even was such a thing), when he practically fell over the unconscious body of Joshamee Gibbs.
Joshamee and Jack went back a long time, and Jack knew that if there was anyone he could convince to tell him whatever rumors were circulating, Gibbs was that person. It took some effort for Jack to drag the much larger man's unconscious dead weight into a room in an inn, but he managed despite having had too much to drink himself, and without causing Gibbs to so much as moan in his sleep. The man stunk to high heaven, but Jack was so drunk himself, he hardly cared.
Gibbs slept well into the following afternoon. When he awoke, his pleasure at seeing his old friend quickly dissipated when Jack began to question him about the Pearl.
"Haven't you heard the stories?" Gibbs asked, glancing around as though he fully expected to be ambushed at any moment.
"No, I haven't," Jack said. "I was rather hoping you might tell them to me yourself."
Gibbs looked leaned in towards Jack, his voice lowered to a whisper. "They say the whole crew is cursed."
Jack smiled. "You sound almost as if you believe that, mate."
Gibbs eyes were wide as saucers. "I do. I know someone who heard one of Barbossa's men talking about it. How they took the forbidden treasure and have been cursed."
Jack sighed. "Here I thought you were finally sober."
"It's true, I tell you!" Gibbs insisted.
"And what is the nature of this curse?" Jack asked mockingly.
Gibbs' voice dropped even lower. "No one knows for sure. But I also know, it is a curse they cannot cure."
Jack sighed. He was beginning to think that maybe Gibbs would not be such a good source of information after all. "And why is that."
"Well, I'll tell you. They say the heathen gods demand the blood of every fool who touched the treasure. Trouble is, Barbossa already killed one of his crew."
Jack's stomach clenched. Suddenly, he was not so amused. "Barbossa killed one of the crew before he learned he needed his blood."
Gibbs nodded eagerly. "They say the sailor remained loyal to you, Jack. They say he sent a piece of the treasure away so they would stay cursed forever. Well, Barbossa was right furious, as you can imagine. So he tied a canon to the sailor's bootstraps and sent him plunging into the sea."
William...
Jack leapt out of his seat and grabbed Gibbs by the collar. "You're lying," he growled furiously, giving the shocked Gibbs a shake. "You're lying to me!"
"Jack, I'm only telling you what I heard!"
"Admit that you're lying, you scabby bastard!"
"Jack! I'm telling you what I heard, no more! Maybe it's not true."
"No," Jack said softly. He released his hold on Gibbs' collar and sunk back into his chair. The sinking feeling in his gut told him it would true. William, beautiful, gentle William, gasping for air as he sunk to the bottom of the sea...
"Jack?"
Jack started. For a moment, he had forgotten Gibbs was there.
"Are you alright, Jack?"
"Yes," Jack said, his voice not at all convincing. "Yes, I am."
"You need a drink," Gibbs said knowingly, and Jack nodded and followed the older man down into the bar where he drank himself into a stupor.
As he dragged himself to his room and collapsed onto the mattress, Jack was distressed to find that the alcohol had not numbed the pain. William Turner's face kept flashing in his mind. It was as though Jack could still feel those fingers against his chest, those lips against his own. And William had stood up for his former captain-had died a horrible death for him. With the sounds of Gibbs' snores drifting over him, Jack buried his face in his mattress and for the first time since he was a lad, Jack Sparrow found himself shedding tears until sleep finally claimed him.