How Did Jack Come By That Compass?
A/N: This is the first chapter in POTCIII: The Pirate's Last Tale. I'm going to post each chapter individually as well, because they are all short stories. There are about five or six short stories in the long one, but to find out what happens after he's done telling the stories, you have to read the full one.
Disclaimer: I don't own pirates of the caribbean. Actually, I do. ( holds up dvd to the computer screen) I have the lost disc too. MUAHAHAHA! take that disney! I also own Emily, Nick, Nicholas, Samantha, the drunk man who buys Jack's rum, Jack's mum and dad, the orphan asylum, La Leyenda Negra, aaaand....the farm Jack's dad works on. LOL. Thanks for reading, please R&R!
A young boy rushed through the crowds of people to get to Jack. Captain Sparrow sat in his usual spot at the table, draining tankard after tankard of his usual, rum, and holding it rather well, might I add, when the boy, named Nicholas, came up to him. The boy was about five, and he was strong and brave. He spent his time down at the docks, against the will of his father, or in his grandfather's blacksmith shop, watching him make swords, horseshoes, handcuffs, jail cell doors, and anything else in Port Royal that was made of metal. Today though, he had heard a rumor that someone quite famous would be in Port Royal. An infamous pirate captain with whom the boy shared a lot of things, including a last name, and although Nicholas' father would never have told him these things, his mother, Samantha, grandmother, Elizabeth, and grandfather, Will, had told him all the stories about his other grandfather, Jack. He already looked up to this man, and couldn't wait to meet him, so that rainy Sunday afternoon, he had snuck out of the house and down to the Four Winds, the waterfront tavern that he knew Jack would be at, thanks to the hints Will had given him. He tugged on Jack's coat.
"Oy! What is it?" Jack asked, looking around. When he couldn't see anyone, he shook his head and went back to his rum. Nicholas tugged again, harder this time, desperate to get his grandfather's attention.
"Excuse me, Mr. Sparrow?" A little voice said from below. Jack looked down this time, and was startled to see the little boy.
"Captain! Captain Jack Sparrow if you please, lad...And who might ye be?" Jack asked, leaning down, face to face with him.
"Nicholas William Sparrow." he said.
"Nicholas Sparrow...Good strong name...No doubt named for your father, aye?" Jack smiled, realizing he was talking to his grandson.
"Yes, but you can call me Nick." the boy said.
"Nick. Your father never let me call him that." Jack said. "How is your father?"
"He's fine." Nick said, clambering up the chair next to Jack.
"Well, that's good. I'm glad. So what is it that ye want young Mr. Sparrow?"
"I want to hear the real, true story of the infamous Jack Sparrow."
"Do ya now? Well, I suppose I could tell ye a few tales. Where would ye like me to start?"
"At the very beginning. Tell me about when you were a lad."
"Yes, Jack, let's hear it." said the barmaid, a woman two years younger than Jack. His sister, Emily Sparrow.
"Well, let's see if I can remember back that far...That was a long time ago lad..." He squinted and thought hard.
"Well, I was born to a peasant farmer and his wife in a small village outside of County Monmouth, Wales, in England. Me mum and dad were very poor, so poor that we had dirt floors, and no glass in the windows. From the time I was old enough to walk I helped me dad in the fields, carrying baskets of grain or corn or whatever the chosen crop was that year.
When I was about three, my baby sister, Emily was born, and me mum died not long after. Me dad tried 'is 'ardest to support us, but there wasn't enough time or money for him to raise a family all by his onsie, so when I was five, Emily two, he sent us off to an orphan asylum in London.
The orphanage was a dirty place, not much better than home, and if you were old enough to talk or walk, in their opinion, you were old enough to work. And once you were of age, they could apprentice you to the career of their choosing. Either a sailor, a merchant, a blacksmith, or farmer, and you had no choice of what your life would be either.
When I was eight years old, they apprenticed me to a ship of the fleet, a British Navy ship, as a cabin boy. It was a privateering ship called La Leyenda Negra, the black legend, and the captain was none other than the infamous Sir Henry Morgan, the greatest pirate to sail the Spanish Main. The ship had been a ship of the Spanish treasure fleet, and it had been taken by Morgan without him even having to fire a shot, just knowing Sir Henry was after them struck fear into the sailors. He took gold and plunder worth more'n you'll ever see in your life from that ship, then he kept it as his flagship, and who's to argue? No ship ever escaped capture once Morgan had decided to take it. He had turned each one besides La Leyenda Negra, over to England, and they rewarded him handsomely.
I was apprenticed to him to learn the trade of cartography, mapmaking. It is a difficult trade, though a very rewarding one when done right. I worked on deck with the crew by day, and had my lessons with the other promising apprentices by night, and when Morgan discovered that I had a knack for the trade, he began taking me by meself for private lessons, teaching me all the ins and outs of navigation, seamanship, and mapmaking. He saw in me as a young lad what I have become today. Sir Henry taught me everything I know about piracy and ships, and I would still be happily under his command today, were it not for a misfortunate occurrence that happened when I was ten years old.
By sailor's standards, Morgan was ancient when he died. Life expectancy was only thirty for an average seaman, but Morgan lived to be fifty-three years old. He died in battle, as he had hoped he would, while we were attempting to take a small Spanish sloop, whose crew only amounted to nine or ten men. He was stabbed through the heart by the opposing captain's cutlass, a dreadful way to end that man's life, but he had lived to the fullest, as I can only hope to do.
He lay in his quarters, dying, that night, and he called me to his side. Just me and him. And what he told me was how proud he was of me, and what a great pirate I was turning out to be. Then he gave me his most prized and secret possession. A compass. Now, most of the men on board believed this compass to be broken, after all, it didn't point north like it should, but Morgan told me the truth. He told me of a little island called Isla De Muerta, an island that nobody could find unless they already knew where it was, or if they had this compass. It was an entirely normal compass, except for the pointer, which was made from a piece of rock taken from this mysterious island. Ever since it had been taken, it pointed toward that island, Isla De Muerta, Island of Death. This island is where Sir Henry had stored all of his plunder and loot over the years. He only trusted me with this secret. I was young, innocent and loyal. A ten year old boy does not know the greed like that which consumes a grown man, like that greed that consumed Morgan's crew and first mate, a young man known only by his last name, Barbossa.
Barbossa was named captain after Sir Henry finally passed, and he knew that Morgan had told me a secret. Barbossa was determined to find the location of Morgan's secret treasure island, and only I knew. First he tried to bribe me, promising me that he'd make me first mate, and telling me he'd give me more of my fair share of food, rum and plunder. When I wouldn't talk, he turned to threats, but I still wouldn't give up the bearings.
The next place we stopped was a tiny island off the cost of Puerto Rico, and that is where my history with Barbossa begins." Jack cleared his throat and stopped speaking. The crowd had grown around him, all were listening intently.
"What did he do Grampa Jack?" Nick pleaded.
"Yeah Jack, what'd he do?" a man asked him.
"Oh, I'dknow if I can keep goin', me throat's givin' out." Jack said. "I wouldn't want that."
"Of course not...Miss Emily, another tankard of rum for Captain Sparrow, on me!" The man said earnestly, there wasn't a second to waste.