Hello my fair readers! I am back and terribly sorry for the delay, my muses pooped out on me for a while there. But they recently returned in full force, so I decided to treat you to an extra long chapter: 14 pages on word!
But I really must thank all those who reviewed. You all are so great, and inspire me to keep this story going! So a big thank you to nychick8990, Kungfuchick, FalconWing, CommodoreJewlz, heavenxleigh, pippinlotrfrek, Tina, Lostelvengurl, Oneiriad, Jeff's favourite skittle, dshael, chumbawumbawootwoot (love that name!), superdork10, RoXySuRfEr12, noviceangel, RaineArilan, Andrea, Lauren, PirateWench5309, SparrowPiratess, and jeska. You all are my idols, and as a thank you present, I would personally like to present to you. . . Your very own Captain Jack Sparrow clone! Have fun with him, and enjoy the chapter! This one concludes the backstory, and we will get back to King Sparrow now.
Chapter 5
Dark clouds were just beginning to intrude on the otherwise blue sky as Jack and his soon-to-be wife strolled through the vast extense of gardens that surrounded the Stanton estate. Jack thought it seemed as though he had been walking for hours, Prude attached to his arm, listening to her endless drabble of mindless chatter and complaints. Although, "listening" would not be the correct term for what he had been doing for the last, oh, twenty minutes. He was more or less daydreaming, and saying "Oh yes," or "Of course" every few minutes just to appease the yellow-dressed devil whose arm was linked in his, as a gesture purely of chivalry. In his daydreams, Jack was mostly thinking about the genius of his planned escape, which he would need to pull off tonight if it was to work, but he was also silently plotting a few last pranks to pull on old Prudence
". . . house is, well, a bit small. I mean really! Only 16 bedrooms! I'd think your father would be able to afford something more livable than that. Honestly, I will positively die of claustrophobia! Francis, you really must speak to your father about these despicable arrangements. . ." 'Cry me a river,' Jack thought to himself.
Francis. What a God-awful name that was, he thought; it sounded especially worse when Prudence said it in her whiny, nagging voice. He couldn't help but think that he could not resist the urge to strangle her if he heard her croon in her screechy voice, "FRAN-cis," one more time while registering another complaint. So Jack decided to fix the problem. "Call me Jack," he interrupted her. "I hate being called 'Francis,' and most people just call me 'Jack.' Well, except for my parents, that is."
Prudence's quick-stepped gait stopped suddenly, and she looked at him with repugnance. "Jack," she sneered, "That is such a. . . common name. No, I shall call you 'Francis,' if you please." She took his arm again, threw back her shoulders, and continued her excessive hip-swaying as she walked along.
As the continued on their stroll, the Stanton mansion grew further and further away, until it was merely a small rectangle off in the distance. The sky was quickly darkening now, and the backs of the leaves were visible: a sure sign of an impending storm. "I think we should go on back now," Jack suggested, inspecting the sky.
Prudence, too, observed the weather, then hastily turned around in her path. "Yes, let us head back." They began the long stroll back to the house.
As they were walking, Jack looked up at the sky and noticed a small bird flying about their heads. A sparrow, it looked to be. 'Lucky little bugger,' he thought to himself. 'Can do whatever he wants, go where he wants to go, and not be forced to hang around with spoiled brats.' As if the sparrow had read his thoughts, the small bird swooped down and released a giant stream of white poop right on Prudence's head. As she screamed and grabbed angrily at her head, Jack could not resist laughing any longer.
"WELL, I'LL NEVER! FRANCIS STANTON! THIS IS NOT FUNNY!" the girl shrieked hysterically as she pulled one of her hands from the top of her head. When she looked at it and saw white goop smeared across her fingers, she held her arm out to her side as far as she could, while crying into her other hand. Jack was still dying of laughter while he offered her his handkerchief. She quickly snatched it and wiped off her hand and head, then turned quickly and delivered a sharp slap to Jack's face. Caught completely off-guard, Jack stepped back a few feet and brought a hand up to his now-red cheek.
"Now was that really necessary, love?" he asked, rubbing his face.
"You know it is, Francis Stanton!" She was seething with anger, and Jack was not sure if it was because of the poop, or because of his laughter. But he just couldn't help himself! She did have it coming. Prudence dropped the now sticky handkerchief onto the walkway, grabbed up her masses of skirts, and stomped down the path angrily.
Not really in the mood to go appease her, Jack continued a slow swagger down the path after her. His feathered comrade once again appeared and flew gracefully past him. Jack stopped to raised his hand to his head in a salute to the small sparrow, then continued his Prude-chasing.
He heard Prudence let out a squeal as a streak of lightning lit up the dark sky. Seconds later, a deafening boom of thunder sounded, and rain began to pour from the sky. The two were still a good distance away from the house, but the stables were only a few feet away. Jack grabbed Prudence's arm and dragged her into the wooden structure.
"We'll wait here 'till the storm passes," he said, as he lit a lantern hanging on the wall. Once the light was present, Jack could see the Prude turning up her nose at her surroundings. She took a few more steps into the barn, but decided to go no further. Jack really cared less what she did, as long as she was not being a nuisance.
Jack walked further into the building and turned down the long walkway lined with dozens of stalls, all of which contained rather frightened horses. He continued down the hallway, then turned into a storage room in the back. After digging around for a few minutes in the straw that covered the ground, he pulled up a floorboard to reveal a hidden compartment, which currently contained a large glass bottle filled with a questionable substance: rum. Jack had a secret penchant toward this foreign drink, and always stashed his secret supply in this particular hiding spot so there would be no chance of his father finding it. After all, the elder Sir Francis would be probably the last person on Earth who would be found in the stables: much too smelly and unclean for his tastes.
Jack pulled out the bottle and was pleased to find that it was still mostly full. He had purchased this bottle quite a while ago, from some questionable merchants down at the docks. He figured that if he would be forced to sit in this building with the Prude for an undefined amount of time, he would definitely need a few drinks.
Of course, so might Prudence.
Now that would be interesting. . .
Just the thought of a drunken Prudence was enough to make Jack snigger. But maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all. . .
"Fran-CIS! Whatever are you doing back in that filth?"
'Speak of the devil,' Jack thought as he saw his wife-to-be standing in the doorway to the storage room, arms crossed. She wrinkled her nose quite blatantly to show her disgust at the smell. As she surveyed the small room in distaste, she noticed the bottle in Jack's hand. "Now what, may I ask, is that?"
An idea popped into Jack's head. He knew Prudence was about as intelligent as she was skinny, which was not saying much for her brain capacity. So he began. "This?" he asked, pointing to the bottle. "This is something very, very powerful. And if I tell you, you must tell nobody else." He could see her eyes light up at the mention of a secret. 'Poor, sheltered sod, can't even recognize alcohol when it's staring her in the face,' he thought.
Prudence became very curious at Jack's words. Whatever was in the bottle must be very special for it to be so secretive. Despite her utter dislike for her fiance, she had to make him tell her what the substance was. She stepped across the room and sat down on a crate in the corner, folding her hands neatly in her lap, trying to be as lady-like as possible, despite the unpleasureable circumstances. "Please continue, Francis. I shall tell no one."
Jack was almost laughing at the girl. She really had no idea! Much more fun for him. "This," he began, waving the bottle dramatically, "This was given to me by a very old, blind soothsayer down at the town market. He said that he received it as a gift from a certain Fairy Queen down in Timbuktu." He smiled as he saw that Prudence was entranced by his utterly false story. "Now this soothsayer, he was in Timbuktu, out in the jungles, collectin' more herbs for his practices, when he came across this fairy village. And what was happening was completely terrible, he told me."
"What? What happened?" Prudence demanded as Jack paused from his storytelling for a second, amused at her gullibility.
"The fairy village was being attacked by a dragon! Huge, fire-breathin' beast, it was. And the old man, you know what he did? He waved around his arms like this," he put down the rum and waved his arms wildly above his head, demonstrating the motion, "And huge lightning bolts shot from the sky, and killed the dragon!"
Prudence's eyes narrowed. "Now Francis Stanton, I am not sure that I should believe you or not," she said suspiciously.
"Oh, but it's all true! Heard it with my own two ears, I did."
Prudence seemed to accept Jack's protest. "All right. So the fairys gave the soothsayer this stuff as thanks?"
"That's right."
"So what is it?" Prudence demanded impatiently.
Jack picked up the bottle and held it in the air. "This is a potion that, when drunk, will make the drinker the most beautiful, intelligent person on earth."
Prudence's eyes widened and her jaw dropped at this prosepct. Of course, she was already beautiful and extremely intelligent, she thought, but what could a little more hurt? She quickly snatched the bottle from Jack's hands and took a big swig. The taste of the brown liquid was a bit vile, and it sent a burn down her throat and made her eyes tear up. "Oh, yuck!" she said hoarsely after the first swallow. But, of course, if the potion worked, it would be well worth it.
Jack smiled to himself, this was going just as he hoped. He now decided to protest weakly, just to egg her on. "Oh no, Prudence, you just ruined everything! Now I can't even use my potion!"
Prudence looked up from her second swig in curiousity. Surely there would be enough for him left over, after she was through. "Why not?"
"Because," Jack smiled, "The only way for the potion to work is for the drinker to drink the entire bottle! And now you have already started it!"
"Well, I might as well finish it too," she said snobbily, then raised the bottle to her lips for another big swig.
'Perfect,' Jack thought, very pleased with himself as he sat back against the wall to watch the drinking wonder before him.
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The bottle was now two-thirds empty, and Prudence was still going strong, despite her obvious lack of motor skills. As she tried to take another drink, she spilled some more rum down the front of her dress. "Oh bother!" she slurred as she handed Jack the bottle. Grabbing at the shelves on the wall, she pulled herself up to a wobbling stand, then looked down at her rum-soaked dress. "D'ya think tha' th' stuff'll still work?"
Jack looked at the bottle as if examining it, then replied, "Oh yes, I believe it will." This was one of the most entertaining sights he had ever seen before. Quite amusing to watch this priss drink herself silly. 'Too bad Marie isn't here,' he thought.
Prudence now ventured a couple wobbly steps across the storage room to the doorway. "Funny," she said, "This potion makes m' feel ver' odd," she said slowly, then let out a tremendous, drunken laugh as she grabbed onto the doorframe for support. She held out a hand toward Jack, and he put the "potion" back in it. She held it up to her face, then addressed it. "How 'bout we go for a li'l stroll while I fin'sh ya? Alri'?" The bottle seemed to think this was a good idea, so the two exited the closet, Prudence swigging from her companion.
Jack stood up and followed behind the wobbling figure. Taking another long drink, Prudence strolled up to one of the horses. She examined it closely, squinting her eyes. "Now Francis," she said to the black horse, "Why're you wearin' those funny clothes? Take off tha' bloody corset, i's mine!" As soon as she finished speaking, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she ungracefully slumped to the floor. Unfortunately, she landed in the manure pile. Now, Jack could not refrain from laughing his head off.
But now it was time to put his escape plan into action. "So long, Prudence Rutherford!" he called as he saluted the unconscious drunk on the ground. He grabbed the bottle and threw it back into the storage room, satisfied to hear it shatter and the evidence destroyed, then turned and ran out the stable doors, towards his house.
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Almost two hours had passed since the time Jack and Prudence had left for their stroll, and Sir Francis Johnathan Henry Stanton III was beginning to become a bit worried as to their whereabouts. A large thunderstorm had hit while they were out, and it had ended about a quarter hour ago. Francis figured that the two probably took shelter in the stables during the storm, but he did wish that they would hasten back to the house. There was much to be done yet.
So he decided to send someone to find them. "Jenkins!" he called, as his trusty butler rushed into the room.
"You called, sir?"
"Would you go to the stables and see if Francis and Prudence are there? Please tell them that we expect them back as soon as possible."
"My pleasure, sir." Jenkins walked out the back doors of the house, through the garden, across the field, and into the stable. But what the saw when he arrived was quite a shock.
Upon first entering the stables, Jenkins did not see a soul in sight. But when he walked farther in, he discovered an unconscious Miss Rutherford lying on the manure pile, reeking of rum. However, next to her was an envelope, addressed in a quick, untidy scrawl to "Sir Francis Stanton III."
"Wha's goin' on?" Jenkins jumped a foot in the air, startled as Prudence Rutherford awoke into a drunken stupor. The girl looked around wide-eyed, then smiled to herself. "Am I beautiful?"
Jenkins wasn't quite sure how to go about answering this question. "Well. . . of course you are, Miss Rutherford." She grinned at him. "Now, why don't we get you back to the house." He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. He then picked up the letter, and the two began a slow walk back to the house.
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"Prudence! What on Earth happened?" Sir Rutherford was quite dismayed at the sight of his daughter when she entered the door with the butler. She was swaying heavily as she walked, and her dress was covered in brown filth, which smelled up the entire room.
"Father! I'm now th' most beeyoutiful girl in th' whole world!" Prudence shouted happily as she walked up to her parents. They both looked at her, wide-eyed, then looked to the butler for an explanation, as did the Stantons. However, Marie couldn't help but laugh quietly at the Prude. This surely had been her brother's doing, and boy, was it genius.
A very out-of-breath Jenkins walked up to Sir Stanton and handed him the envelope. "I went to the barn, and I found Miss Rutherford unconscious and smelling of rum, as well as this letter! But your son was nowhere in sight."
Sir Stanton grabbed the letter from his butler and said, "Thank you, Jenkins. Now why don't you show Miss Rutherford upstairs, and perhaps get one of the maids to assist her in bathing?" Jenkins did as he was instructed, steadying Prudence by grabbing her arm as they walked up the stairs, the drunken girl chattering about some nonsense of a potion and a soothsayer and a fairy kingdom.
Sir Stanton sat down in the parlor on the sofa, as the othe four occupants of the room gathered around him to see what the letter said. The man opened the envelope and pulled out a small piece of parchment, covered in a hasty scrawl. But the words shocked him.
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Sir Stanton:
If you ever want to see your son again, please deliver 100 pounds to the Ten Bells tavern by eight o'clock. Leave the money behind the bush in front of the building. If you comply, your son will be safely delivered to your estate by midnight. If you do not, he will be executed. We hope that you will cooperate.
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"Oh Francis, whateve are we to do!" Lady Stanton was nearly in tears after hearing what the ransom note said. "We must save our son!"
"Of course we will, dear." Sir Francis Stanton was extremely angry about this entire situation. How dare anybody use his wealth for ransom money, muchless kidnap his only son on the eve of his wedding?
Marie Stanton sat quietly in a chair in the corner. She was not sure of what to make of this whole situation. It may be true, but she had a sneaking suspicion that this was the escape that her brother hinted at earlier that day. She hoped it was the latter, and felt confident that this was Jack's escape. Very smart to collect some extra money from father before he left to wherever he was going, too.
"I shall go and prepare the money, then make way to this tavern. Jenkins!"
"Yes, sir?"
"Please prepare my carriage for departure in a few minutes."
"Of course, sir." With that, the butler left the room to fulfill his orders. Sir Stanton rushed into his study, with a very worried Lady Stanton trailing behind. The Rutherfords, albeit worried about their daughter's fiance, were more concerned about said darling daughter, and were shown upstairs to dote upon her even more, if that was possible.
In the study, Sir Stanton hastily made way to a secret panel in the bookshelves, behind which was the family safe, where he kept much of their riches. He was furious at the amount of money the kidnappers were asking for. One hundred pounds? Even for him, that was quite a sum. He found a leather purse, and began filling it with gold coins.
While her husband was counting out the ransom money, Lady Beatrice Stanton was sitting in one of the armchairs, sobbing. "How could they take my son!" she cried. Her husband just shook his head, wishing that she would stop the drama. But another thought hit the woman. "Francis?"
"What, Beatrice?" her husband answered, quite annoyed.
"What if they don't bring him back, even if we give them the money? What if. . ." She stopped her choked talking, then burst into another bout of hysterics.
Her husband made a feeble attempt to comfort the crying woman. "It's alright, dear," he said gently, walking over to her and touching her arm. "Francis will be just fine, I am sure." But now he needed to get going to the Ten Bells, if there was any chance of seeing their son again. Nighttime was fast approaching, and it was a long ride into the heart of town, especially to the area where he could find all the seedy taverns. "Darling, I must be going," he said as he walked to the front door, where his carriage awaited him. He climbed in, and they took off, making haste to reach the tavern before eight.
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All the drama and hysterics of her mother was too much for Marie to handle, so she quickly retired to her bedroom. The Rutherfords had left soon after her father, wishing luck for her brother's well-being. Then, they were off to buy the Prude a brand new dress, since hers was unfortunately ruined by horse manure. How Jack got her to drink that much rum, she had no idea, but was it ever funny!
Jack. Marie was not quite sure what to make of the whole situation. She was pretty sure that this was his own doing, but then she thought that he did not plan to leave until tonight. It was hard to say.
However, her questions were all answered by a letter she found on her desk.
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Marie,
I wrote this just to say goodbye. As you probably know, I've been "kidnapped," and can pretty much assure you that even if Dad sends the money, I will not be "returned" at midnight. I am not sure what I'll be doing now. I'll probably take a ship to another place. Perhaps France, or maybe even out to the New World. I do not know when I will next see you, so I felt the need to give a farewell. You'll be in my thoughts often, and I will miss your company greatly. Just don't worry about old Jack. Trust me, I'll be just fine. And please don't tell the parents about what I'm really up to. I would prefer for them to think me dead, rather than possibly finding me.
All my love, Jack
PS: Send my regards to the Prude, and tell her that I hope she will recover well from her hangover.
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Marie smiled at her brother's words. Of course this was his plan! Silly of her to doubt him. But she was sad that she may not see him for a long time, or perhaps ever again. She was trying her best to do as he instructed and not worry about him, but it was difficult. He got himself into enough problems just here around the house, who knows what conflicts could arise out in the world of sailors?
But no need to worry. He can take care of himself.
"Good luck, Jack," she whispered into the night sky, then folded up the letter and hid it away.
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Sir Stanton scoffed at his surroundings. He never particularly enjoyed venturing into the heart of Devonshire, but he especially disliked this part of town. Plus, it was night. Not a good combination. As the carriage stopped, he saw the Ten Bells tavern in front of him, surrounded by drunken sailors and dirty, half-dressed prostitutes. He carefully made his way out of the carriage and towards the bushes in front of the building, where he was expected to deliver the money. Careful to ward of all approaching harlots, who could see that he was obviously dripping with wealth, he backed up to the bushes, and dropped the purse of money inconspicuously behind his back. Hopefully nobody saw that and would take it, he thought.
Now, it was time to return to his home and await his son's delivery. If they would return him at all. He hoped they would, because the boy could prove very valuable when married to Miss Rutherford.
He climbed back in the carriage and instructed the driver to take him home. They sped away, leaving all the prostitutes disappointed and all the drunks in wonder.
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As soon as he heard the thud of the money bag and his father's footsteps walking toward the carriage, Jack became excited. He really did not expect the man to pay up! Lucky for him, now he was one hundred pounds richer! Another factor of his luck was that his father did not take the time to look behind the bush, which just happened to be where Jack was hiding. He crawled over to the leather drawstring bag, and opened it to find it filled with gold pieces. Luck sure was on his side today.
Before he left, he had gone to his room to change into more practical clothes, and to grab his sword. While there, he grabbed what few coins he had lying around his room, just in case his dear father did not pay up. But now, his worries were over. Jack quickly took the bag and emptied most of the coins into his boots, to prevent any pickpocketing. He left a few coins in the purse, then tied it to his belt.
Now, he just had to find a ship.
He walked down to the docks and looked around at the multitude of ships that were harbored there. He was willing to go with anyone to anyplace, even on a pirate ship. 'Actually,' he thought, 'Especially on a pirate ship.' He did need some excitement in his dull life, after all.
Out of all the ships moored to the docks, one in particular caught his eye. This one, unlike all the brightly-painted ships, was pure black, which shone beautifully in the moonlight. And instead of having pristine white sails, the sails on this particular ship were black, to match the rest of the paint job. There was just something about this certain ship that called to him. Perhaps its beauty, or the mysteriousness of it. Or perhaps the strong scent of rum that permeated from its decks. Or, most likely, a combination of the three.
Jack sauntered down the decks and toward the gangplank of the black ship. As he was just about to start climbing up, a hand grabbed his shoulder from behind him and spun him around. After he was turned, he was surprised to see an older man with a gray beard, dressed in well-worn clothing. He looked like a pirate. However, he did not seem to be vicious and depraved, like the stories said. He actually had a glint of kindness shining in his eye. He questioned Jack, "Whoa there, laddie, where ye be goin?"
Jack decided to tell him the truth. "Well, I was just tryin' to find the cap'n of this ship. I was hopin' I could possibly barter passage, or even stay onboard as a shiphand." Becoming a member of the crew would be almost better, actually. He really didn't have anyplace to go once he reached his destination.
The captain was silent as he looked over Jack from head to toe, doing what seemed to be a visual inspection of the young, dark-haired man before him. The lad looked like he would have the makings of a good pirate, although he was most likely a bit wet behind the ears at the sailing bit. However, he looked strong and fairly intelligent, so he would learn quickly. Plus, after the recent battle the ship had, they were needing some replacement crewmembers. He then smiled and spoke, "Well, boy, where ye be headin'?"
Jack thought this over for a second. He really had no idea where he was going. He only knew that he wanted to be anywhere other than here. "Wherever you're goin', sir."
The older man smiled, then resumed his questioning. "We're from out in the Caribbean, son. Now, we have a few open spots on our crew, and could be usin' a strong young lad like yerself. Tell me, lad, d'ye have any skill with th' sword?"
"Yeah, I do," Jack replied, silently thanking his father for making him practice fencing for hours and hours every day.
"That's good. But I must tell ye, lad, me an' me crew, we're not th' most. . . honest of folk, if ye know what I mean." Jack knew he was trying to say that the ship was a pirate ship, and he nodded. "Now that wouldn't bother ye, would it?"
"O'course not, sir. I just want out."
"Well boy, we'd be glad to have ye aboard. What be yer name?"
'Damnit,' Jack thought, 'How could I forget to make up a name?' He was searching his mind for a new alias, when outside another tavern, a plump woman dressed in yellow rushed out, shouting, "Well, I'll never! That was not funny!" If he hadn't known better, he would've thought the woman to be Prudence after the sparrow had pooped upon her head.
Sparrow. There we go. "My name's Sparrow. Jack Sparrow, at yer service."
The man stuck out his dirty hand, and Jack shook it. "Well, Jack Sparrow, I am Captain Wellesley. Welcome aboard the Black Pearl."
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". . . So I followed the Captain up the gangplank to begin me new life as the charming scallywag you know today." Captain Jack Sparrow, who was seated on a crate on the deck of the Black Pearl, looked around to see both his crew and a number of navymen staring at him in great interest, completely enthralled by his story. He suspected that the Navy was just still surprised that he was, indeed, a royal. However, his crew was most likely surprised that their captain actually told them a true story about his past: a rare occasion indeed. It took several seconds after he concluded for anyone to speak.
Said speaker was the Commodore, who was trying his best to look disinterested at the pirate's story. "Well, Mister Sparrow, that is quite a tale."
"Yep, it is, Commodore. And all true, too." Jack grinned at him as Norrington did his best to look disinterested. But even he was surprised at the pirate captain's tale. He couldn't blame him for wanting to leave England. That Prudence sounded like a real treat.
"Now, Mister Sparrow," Jack coughed and gave him the evil eye, "Erm, Your Majesty, I would appreciate if you would board the Dauntless so we can begin making way to Port Royale as soon as possible."
"And what of my ship an' crew?"
"They are free to go," Norrington answered the new King.
"Alright, I s'pose I best be goin', before these men try to stretch my neck," Jack addressed his crew. "Anamaria will be your captain until further notice. I s'pose I shall be in jolly ol' London in a few weeks," he said, giving his crew a meaningful look.
As their captain was being escorted onto the navy ship, the dumbfounded pirates just stared. Only Anamaria, the provisional captain, could find words. "Captain, what about you?" she asked, knowing that Jack wouldn't settle for being away from his Pearl for too long.
"Keep to the code," he said with a wink, and Anamaria understood him completely. Jack turned to salute his crew before being led across the plank between the ships, to be taken off to Port Royal.
Phew! That was long! How'd you like that?? Let me know by sending a nice little review, then you can get your very own Captain Jack Sparrow clone, too!
Anyway, remember to tune in next time to see Jack's grand entrance into Port Royal, and even perhaps his welcoming ball at the Governor's mansion! Now that should be interesting. . .
See you next time!
But I really must thank all those who reviewed. You all are so great, and inspire me to keep this story going! So a big thank you to nychick8990, Kungfuchick, FalconWing, CommodoreJewlz, heavenxleigh, pippinlotrfrek, Tina, Lostelvengurl, Oneiriad, Jeff's favourite skittle, dshael, chumbawumbawootwoot (love that name!), superdork10, RoXySuRfEr12, noviceangel, RaineArilan, Andrea, Lauren, PirateWench5309, SparrowPiratess, and jeska. You all are my idols, and as a thank you present, I would personally like to present to you. . . Your very own Captain Jack Sparrow clone! Have fun with him, and enjoy the chapter! This one concludes the backstory, and we will get back to King Sparrow now.
Chapter 5
Dark clouds were just beginning to intrude on the otherwise blue sky as Jack and his soon-to-be wife strolled through the vast extense of gardens that surrounded the Stanton estate. Jack thought it seemed as though he had been walking for hours, Prude attached to his arm, listening to her endless drabble of mindless chatter and complaints. Although, "listening" would not be the correct term for what he had been doing for the last, oh, twenty minutes. He was more or less daydreaming, and saying "Oh yes," or "Of course" every few minutes just to appease the yellow-dressed devil whose arm was linked in his, as a gesture purely of chivalry. In his daydreams, Jack was mostly thinking about the genius of his planned escape, which he would need to pull off tonight if it was to work, but he was also silently plotting a few last pranks to pull on old Prudence
". . . house is, well, a bit small. I mean really! Only 16 bedrooms! I'd think your father would be able to afford something more livable than that. Honestly, I will positively die of claustrophobia! Francis, you really must speak to your father about these despicable arrangements. . ." 'Cry me a river,' Jack thought to himself.
Francis. What a God-awful name that was, he thought; it sounded especially worse when Prudence said it in her whiny, nagging voice. He couldn't help but think that he could not resist the urge to strangle her if he heard her croon in her screechy voice, "FRAN-cis," one more time while registering another complaint. So Jack decided to fix the problem. "Call me Jack," he interrupted her. "I hate being called 'Francis,' and most people just call me 'Jack.' Well, except for my parents, that is."
Prudence's quick-stepped gait stopped suddenly, and she looked at him with repugnance. "Jack," she sneered, "That is such a. . . common name. No, I shall call you 'Francis,' if you please." She took his arm again, threw back her shoulders, and continued her excessive hip-swaying as she walked along.
As the continued on their stroll, the Stanton mansion grew further and further away, until it was merely a small rectangle off in the distance. The sky was quickly darkening now, and the backs of the leaves were visible: a sure sign of an impending storm. "I think we should go on back now," Jack suggested, inspecting the sky.
Prudence, too, observed the weather, then hastily turned around in her path. "Yes, let us head back." They began the long stroll back to the house.
As they were walking, Jack looked up at the sky and noticed a small bird flying about their heads. A sparrow, it looked to be. 'Lucky little bugger,' he thought to himself. 'Can do whatever he wants, go where he wants to go, and not be forced to hang around with spoiled brats.' As if the sparrow had read his thoughts, the small bird swooped down and released a giant stream of white poop right on Prudence's head. As she screamed and grabbed angrily at her head, Jack could not resist laughing any longer.
"WELL, I'LL NEVER! FRANCIS STANTON! THIS IS NOT FUNNY!" the girl shrieked hysterically as she pulled one of her hands from the top of her head. When she looked at it and saw white goop smeared across her fingers, she held her arm out to her side as far as she could, while crying into her other hand. Jack was still dying of laughter while he offered her his handkerchief. She quickly snatched it and wiped off her hand and head, then turned quickly and delivered a sharp slap to Jack's face. Caught completely off-guard, Jack stepped back a few feet and brought a hand up to his now-red cheek.
"Now was that really necessary, love?" he asked, rubbing his face.
"You know it is, Francis Stanton!" She was seething with anger, and Jack was not sure if it was because of the poop, or because of his laughter. But he just couldn't help himself! She did have it coming. Prudence dropped the now sticky handkerchief onto the walkway, grabbed up her masses of skirts, and stomped down the path angrily.
Not really in the mood to go appease her, Jack continued a slow swagger down the path after her. His feathered comrade once again appeared and flew gracefully past him. Jack stopped to raised his hand to his head in a salute to the small sparrow, then continued his Prude-chasing.
He heard Prudence let out a squeal as a streak of lightning lit up the dark sky. Seconds later, a deafening boom of thunder sounded, and rain began to pour from the sky. The two were still a good distance away from the house, but the stables were only a few feet away. Jack grabbed Prudence's arm and dragged her into the wooden structure.
"We'll wait here 'till the storm passes," he said, as he lit a lantern hanging on the wall. Once the light was present, Jack could see the Prude turning up her nose at her surroundings. She took a few more steps into the barn, but decided to go no further. Jack really cared less what she did, as long as she was not being a nuisance.
Jack walked further into the building and turned down the long walkway lined with dozens of stalls, all of which contained rather frightened horses. He continued down the hallway, then turned into a storage room in the back. After digging around for a few minutes in the straw that covered the ground, he pulled up a floorboard to reveal a hidden compartment, which currently contained a large glass bottle filled with a questionable substance: rum. Jack had a secret penchant toward this foreign drink, and always stashed his secret supply in this particular hiding spot so there would be no chance of his father finding it. After all, the elder Sir Francis would be probably the last person on Earth who would be found in the stables: much too smelly and unclean for his tastes.
Jack pulled out the bottle and was pleased to find that it was still mostly full. He had purchased this bottle quite a while ago, from some questionable merchants down at the docks. He figured that if he would be forced to sit in this building with the Prude for an undefined amount of time, he would definitely need a few drinks.
Of course, so might Prudence.
Now that would be interesting. . .
Just the thought of a drunken Prudence was enough to make Jack snigger. But maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all. . .
"Fran-CIS! Whatever are you doing back in that filth?"
'Speak of the devil,' Jack thought as he saw his wife-to-be standing in the doorway to the storage room, arms crossed. She wrinkled her nose quite blatantly to show her disgust at the smell. As she surveyed the small room in distaste, she noticed the bottle in Jack's hand. "Now what, may I ask, is that?"
An idea popped into Jack's head. He knew Prudence was about as intelligent as she was skinny, which was not saying much for her brain capacity. So he began. "This?" he asked, pointing to the bottle. "This is something very, very powerful. And if I tell you, you must tell nobody else." He could see her eyes light up at the mention of a secret. 'Poor, sheltered sod, can't even recognize alcohol when it's staring her in the face,' he thought.
Prudence became very curious at Jack's words. Whatever was in the bottle must be very special for it to be so secretive. Despite her utter dislike for her fiance, she had to make him tell her what the substance was. She stepped across the room and sat down on a crate in the corner, folding her hands neatly in her lap, trying to be as lady-like as possible, despite the unpleasureable circumstances. "Please continue, Francis. I shall tell no one."
Jack was almost laughing at the girl. She really had no idea! Much more fun for him. "This," he began, waving the bottle dramatically, "This was given to me by a very old, blind soothsayer down at the town market. He said that he received it as a gift from a certain Fairy Queen down in Timbuktu." He smiled as he saw that Prudence was entranced by his utterly false story. "Now this soothsayer, he was in Timbuktu, out in the jungles, collectin' more herbs for his practices, when he came across this fairy village. And what was happening was completely terrible, he told me."
"What? What happened?" Prudence demanded as Jack paused from his storytelling for a second, amused at her gullibility.
"The fairy village was being attacked by a dragon! Huge, fire-breathin' beast, it was. And the old man, you know what he did? He waved around his arms like this," he put down the rum and waved his arms wildly above his head, demonstrating the motion, "And huge lightning bolts shot from the sky, and killed the dragon!"
Prudence's eyes narrowed. "Now Francis Stanton, I am not sure that I should believe you or not," she said suspiciously.
"Oh, but it's all true! Heard it with my own two ears, I did."
Prudence seemed to accept Jack's protest. "All right. So the fairys gave the soothsayer this stuff as thanks?"
"That's right."
"So what is it?" Prudence demanded impatiently.
Jack picked up the bottle and held it in the air. "This is a potion that, when drunk, will make the drinker the most beautiful, intelligent person on earth."
Prudence's eyes widened and her jaw dropped at this prosepct. Of course, she was already beautiful and extremely intelligent, she thought, but what could a little more hurt? She quickly snatched the bottle from Jack's hands and took a big swig. The taste of the brown liquid was a bit vile, and it sent a burn down her throat and made her eyes tear up. "Oh, yuck!" she said hoarsely after the first swallow. But, of course, if the potion worked, it would be well worth it.
Jack smiled to himself, this was going just as he hoped. He now decided to protest weakly, just to egg her on. "Oh no, Prudence, you just ruined everything! Now I can't even use my potion!"
Prudence looked up from her second swig in curiousity. Surely there would be enough for him left over, after she was through. "Why not?"
"Because," Jack smiled, "The only way for the potion to work is for the drinker to drink the entire bottle! And now you have already started it!"
"Well, I might as well finish it too," she said snobbily, then raised the bottle to her lips for another big swig.
'Perfect,' Jack thought, very pleased with himself as he sat back against the wall to watch the drinking wonder before him.
-------------------
The bottle was now two-thirds empty, and Prudence was still going strong, despite her obvious lack of motor skills. As she tried to take another drink, she spilled some more rum down the front of her dress. "Oh bother!" she slurred as she handed Jack the bottle. Grabbing at the shelves on the wall, she pulled herself up to a wobbling stand, then looked down at her rum-soaked dress. "D'ya think tha' th' stuff'll still work?"
Jack looked at the bottle as if examining it, then replied, "Oh yes, I believe it will." This was one of the most entertaining sights he had ever seen before. Quite amusing to watch this priss drink herself silly. 'Too bad Marie isn't here,' he thought.
Prudence now ventured a couple wobbly steps across the storage room to the doorway. "Funny," she said, "This potion makes m' feel ver' odd," she said slowly, then let out a tremendous, drunken laugh as she grabbed onto the doorframe for support. She held out a hand toward Jack, and he put the "potion" back in it. She held it up to her face, then addressed it. "How 'bout we go for a li'l stroll while I fin'sh ya? Alri'?" The bottle seemed to think this was a good idea, so the two exited the closet, Prudence swigging from her companion.
Jack stood up and followed behind the wobbling figure. Taking another long drink, Prudence strolled up to one of the horses. She examined it closely, squinting her eyes. "Now Francis," she said to the black horse, "Why're you wearin' those funny clothes? Take off tha' bloody corset, i's mine!" As soon as she finished speaking, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she ungracefully slumped to the floor. Unfortunately, she landed in the manure pile. Now, Jack could not refrain from laughing his head off.
But now it was time to put his escape plan into action. "So long, Prudence Rutherford!" he called as he saluted the unconscious drunk on the ground. He grabbed the bottle and threw it back into the storage room, satisfied to hear it shatter and the evidence destroyed, then turned and ran out the stable doors, towards his house.
---------------
Almost two hours had passed since the time Jack and Prudence had left for their stroll, and Sir Francis Johnathan Henry Stanton III was beginning to become a bit worried as to their whereabouts. A large thunderstorm had hit while they were out, and it had ended about a quarter hour ago. Francis figured that the two probably took shelter in the stables during the storm, but he did wish that they would hasten back to the house. There was much to be done yet.
So he decided to send someone to find them. "Jenkins!" he called, as his trusty butler rushed into the room.
"You called, sir?"
"Would you go to the stables and see if Francis and Prudence are there? Please tell them that we expect them back as soon as possible."
"My pleasure, sir." Jenkins walked out the back doors of the house, through the garden, across the field, and into the stable. But what the saw when he arrived was quite a shock.
Upon first entering the stables, Jenkins did not see a soul in sight. But when he walked farther in, he discovered an unconscious Miss Rutherford lying on the manure pile, reeking of rum. However, next to her was an envelope, addressed in a quick, untidy scrawl to "Sir Francis Stanton III."
"Wha's goin' on?" Jenkins jumped a foot in the air, startled as Prudence Rutherford awoke into a drunken stupor. The girl looked around wide-eyed, then smiled to herself. "Am I beautiful?"
Jenkins wasn't quite sure how to go about answering this question. "Well. . . of course you are, Miss Rutherford." She grinned at him. "Now, why don't we get you back to the house." He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. He then picked up the letter, and the two began a slow walk back to the house.
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"Prudence! What on Earth happened?" Sir Rutherford was quite dismayed at the sight of his daughter when she entered the door with the butler. She was swaying heavily as she walked, and her dress was covered in brown filth, which smelled up the entire room.
"Father! I'm now th' most beeyoutiful girl in th' whole world!" Prudence shouted happily as she walked up to her parents. They both looked at her, wide-eyed, then looked to the butler for an explanation, as did the Stantons. However, Marie couldn't help but laugh quietly at the Prude. This surely had been her brother's doing, and boy, was it genius.
A very out-of-breath Jenkins walked up to Sir Stanton and handed him the envelope. "I went to the barn, and I found Miss Rutherford unconscious and smelling of rum, as well as this letter! But your son was nowhere in sight."
Sir Stanton grabbed the letter from his butler and said, "Thank you, Jenkins. Now why don't you show Miss Rutherford upstairs, and perhaps get one of the maids to assist her in bathing?" Jenkins did as he was instructed, steadying Prudence by grabbing her arm as they walked up the stairs, the drunken girl chattering about some nonsense of a potion and a soothsayer and a fairy kingdom.
Sir Stanton sat down in the parlor on the sofa, as the othe four occupants of the room gathered around him to see what the letter said. The man opened the envelope and pulled out a small piece of parchment, covered in a hasty scrawl. But the words shocked him.
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Sir Stanton:
If you ever want to see your son again, please deliver 100 pounds to the Ten Bells tavern by eight o'clock. Leave the money behind the bush in front of the building. If you comply, your son will be safely delivered to your estate by midnight. If you do not, he will be executed. We hope that you will cooperate.
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"Oh Francis, whateve are we to do!" Lady Stanton was nearly in tears after hearing what the ransom note said. "We must save our son!"
"Of course we will, dear." Sir Francis Stanton was extremely angry about this entire situation. How dare anybody use his wealth for ransom money, muchless kidnap his only son on the eve of his wedding?
Marie Stanton sat quietly in a chair in the corner. She was not sure of what to make of this whole situation. It may be true, but she had a sneaking suspicion that this was the escape that her brother hinted at earlier that day. She hoped it was the latter, and felt confident that this was Jack's escape. Very smart to collect some extra money from father before he left to wherever he was going, too.
"I shall go and prepare the money, then make way to this tavern. Jenkins!"
"Yes, sir?"
"Please prepare my carriage for departure in a few minutes."
"Of course, sir." With that, the butler left the room to fulfill his orders. Sir Stanton rushed into his study, with a very worried Lady Stanton trailing behind. The Rutherfords, albeit worried about their daughter's fiance, were more concerned about said darling daughter, and were shown upstairs to dote upon her even more, if that was possible.
In the study, Sir Stanton hastily made way to a secret panel in the bookshelves, behind which was the family safe, where he kept much of their riches. He was furious at the amount of money the kidnappers were asking for. One hundred pounds? Even for him, that was quite a sum. He found a leather purse, and began filling it with gold coins.
While her husband was counting out the ransom money, Lady Beatrice Stanton was sitting in one of the armchairs, sobbing. "How could they take my son!" she cried. Her husband just shook his head, wishing that she would stop the drama. But another thought hit the woman. "Francis?"
"What, Beatrice?" her husband answered, quite annoyed.
"What if they don't bring him back, even if we give them the money? What if. . ." She stopped her choked talking, then burst into another bout of hysterics.
Her husband made a feeble attempt to comfort the crying woman. "It's alright, dear," he said gently, walking over to her and touching her arm. "Francis will be just fine, I am sure." But now he needed to get going to the Ten Bells, if there was any chance of seeing their son again. Nighttime was fast approaching, and it was a long ride into the heart of town, especially to the area where he could find all the seedy taverns. "Darling, I must be going," he said as he walked to the front door, where his carriage awaited him. He climbed in, and they took off, making haste to reach the tavern before eight.
----------------
All the drama and hysterics of her mother was too much for Marie to handle, so she quickly retired to her bedroom. The Rutherfords had left soon after her father, wishing luck for her brother's well-being. Then, they were off to buy the Prude a brand new dress, since hers was unfortunately ruined by horse manure. How Jack got her to drink that much rum, she had no idea, but was it ever funny!
Jack. Marie was not quite sure what to make of the whole situation. She was pretty sure that this was his own doing, but then she thought that he did not plan to leave until tonight. It was hard to say.
However, her questions were all answered by a letter she found on her desk.
------------------
Marie,
I wrote this just to say goodbye. As you probably know, I've been "kidnapped," and can pretty much assure you that even if Dad sends the money, I will not be "returned" at midnight. I am not sure what I'll be doing now. I'll probably take a ship to another place. Perhaps France, or maybe even out to the New World. I do not know when I will next see you, so I felt the need to give a farewell. You'll be in my thoughts often, and I will miss your company greatly. Just don't worry about old Jack. Trust me, I'll be just fine. And please don't tell the parents about what I'm really up to. I would prefer for them to think me dead, rather than possibly finding me.
All my love, Jack
PS: Send my regards to the Prude, and tell her that I hope she will recover well from her hangover.
------------------
Marie smiled at her brother's words. Of course this was his plan! Silly of her to doubt him. But she was sad that she may not see him for a long time, or perhaps ever again. She was trying her best to do as he instructed and not worry about him, but it was difficult. He got himself into enough problems just here around the house, who knows what conflicts could arise out in the world of sailors?
But no need to worry. He can take care of himself.
"Good luck, Jack," she whispered into the night sky, then folded up the letter and hid it away.
-----------------
Sir Stanton scoffed at his surroundings. He never particularly enjoyed venturing into the heart of Devonshire, but he especially disliked this part of town. Plus, it was night. Not a good combination. As the carriage stopped, he saw the Ten Bells tavern in front of him, surrounded by drunken sailors and dirty, half-dressed prostitutes. He carefully made his way out of the carriage and towards the bushes in front of the building, where he was expected to deliver the money. Careful to ward of all approaching harlots, who could see that he was obviously dripping with wealth, he backed up to the bushes, and dropped the purse of money inconspicuously behind his back. Hopefully nobody saw that and would take it, he thought.
Now, it was time to return to his home and await his son's delivery. If they would return him at all. He hoped they would, because the boy could prove very valuable when married to Miss Rutherford.
He climbed back in the carriage and instructed the driver to take him home. They sped away, leaving all the prostitutes disappointed and all the drunks in wonder.
----------------
As soon as he heard the thud of the money bag and his father's footsteps walking toward the carriage, Jack became excited. He really did not expect the man to pay up! Lucky for him, now he was one hundred pounds richer! Another factor of his luck was that his father did not take the time to look behind the bush, which just happened to be where Jack was hiding. He crawled over to the leather drawstring bag, and opened it to find it filled with gold pieces. Luck sure was on his side today.
Before he left, he had gone to his room to change into more practical clothes, and to grab his sword. While there, he grabbed what few coins he had lying around his room, just in case his dear father did not pay up. But now, his worries were over. Jack quickly took the bag and emptied most of the coins into his boots, to prevent any pickpocketing. He left a few coins in the purse, then tied it to his belt.
Now, he just had to find a ship.
He walked down to the docks and looked around at the multitude of ships that were harbored there. He was willing to go with anyone to anyplace, even on a pirate ship. 'Actually,' he thought, 'Especially on a pirate ship.' He did need some excitement in his dull life, after all.
Out of all the ships moored to the docks, one in particular caught his eye. This one, unlike all the brightly-painted ships, was pure black, which shone beautifully in the moonlight. And instead of having pristine white sails, the sails on this particular ship were black, to match the rest of the paint job. There was just something about this certain ship that called to him. Perhaps its beauty, or the mysteriousness of it. Or perhaps the strong scent of rum that permeated from its decks. Or, most likely, a combination of the three.
Jack sauntered down the decks and toward the gangplank of the black ship. As he was just about to start climbing up, a hand grabbed his shoulder from behind him and spun him around. After he was turned, he was surprised to see an older man with a gray beard, dressed in well-worn clothing. He looked like a pirate. However, he did not seem to be vicious and depraved, like the stories said. He actually had a glint of kindness shining in his eye. He questioned Jack, "Whoa there, laddie, where ye be goin?"
Jack decided to tell him the truth. "Well, I was just tryin' to find the cap'n of this ship. I was hopin' I could possibly barter passage, or even stay onboard as a shiphand." Becoming a member of the crew would be almost better, actually. He really didn't have anyplace to go once he reached his destination.
The captain was silent as he looked over Jack from head to toe, doing what seemed to be a visual inspection of the young, dark-haired man before him. The lad looked like he would have the makings of a good pirate, although he was most likely a bit wet behind the ears at the sailing bit. However, he looked strong and fairly intelligent, so he would learn quickly. Plus, after the recent battle the ship had, they were needing some replacement crewmembers. He then smiled and spoke, "Well, boy, where ye be headin'?"
Jack thought this over for a second. He really had no idea where he was going. He only knew that he wanted to be anywhere other than here. "Wherever you're goin', sir."
The older man smiled, then resumed his questioning. "We're from out in the Caribbean, son. Now, we have a few open spots on our crew, and could be usin' a strong young lad like yerself. Tell me, lad, d'ye have any skill with th' sword?"
"Yeah, I do," Jack replied, silently thanking his father for making him practice fencing for hours and hours every day.
"That's good. But I must tell ye, lad, me an' me crew, we're not th' most. . . honest of folk, if ye know what I mean." Jack knew he was trying to say that the ship was a pirate ship, and he nodded. "Now that wouldn't bother ye, would it?"
"O'course not, sir. I just want out."
"Well boy, we'd be glad to have ye aboard. What be yer name?"
'Damnit,' Jack thought, 'How could I forget to make up a name?' He was searching his mind for a new alias, when outside another tavern, a plump woman dressed in yellow rushed out, shouting, "Well, I'll never! That was not funny!" If he hadn't known better, he would've thought the woman to be Prudence after the sparrow had pooped upon her head.
Sparrow. There we go. "My name's Sparrow. Jack Sparrow, at yer service."
The man stuck out his dirty hand, and Jack shook it. "Well, Jack Sparrow, I am Captain Wellesley. Welcome aboard the Black Pearl."
----------------------
". . . So I followed the Captain up the gangplank to begin me new life as the charming scallywag you know today." Captain Jack Sparrow, who was seated on a crate on the deck of the Black Pearl, looked around to see both his crew and a number of navymen staring at him in great interest, completely enthralled by his story. He suspected that the Navy was just still surprised that he was, indeed, a royal. However, his crew was most likely surprised that their captain actually told them a true story about his past: a rare occasion indeed. It took several seconds after he concluded for anyone to speak.
Said speaker was the Commodore, who was trying his best to look disinterested at the pirate's story. "Well, Mister Sparrow, that is quite a tale."
"Yep, it is, Commodore. And all true, too." Jack grinned at him as Norrington did his best to look disinterested. But even he was surprised at the pirate captain's tale. He couldn't blame him for wanting to leave England. That Prudence sounded like a real treat.
"Now, Mister Sparrow," Jack coughed and gave him the evil eye, "Erm, Your Majesty, I would appreciate if you would board the Dauntless so we can begin making way to Port Royale as soon as possible."
"And what of my ship an' crew?"
"They are free to go," Norrington answered the new King.
"Alright, I s'pose I best be goin', before these men try to stretch my neck," Jack addressed his crew. "Anamaria will be your captain until further notice. I s'pose I shall be in jolly ol' London in a few weeks," he said, giving his crew a meaningful look.
As their captain was being escorted onto the navy ship, the dumbfounded pirates just stared. Only Anamaria, the provisional captain, could find words. "Captain, what about you?" she asked, knowing that Jack wouldn't settle for being away from his Pearl for too long.
"Keep to the code," he said with a wink, and Anamaria understood him completely. Jack turned to salute his crew before being led across the plank between the ships, to be taken off to Port Royal.
Phew! That was long! How'd you like that?? Let me know by sending a nice little review, then you can get your very own Captain Jack Sparrow clone, too!
Anyway, remember to tune in next time to see Jack's grand entrance into Port Royal, and even perhaps his welcoming ball at the Governor's mansion! Now that should be interesting. . .
See you next time!