The Black Pearl : Bringer of Freedom
Welcome to my first POTC story. I'm going to have a lot of fun writing it :P and I hope that you will have fun reading it. If you do, please review, but no Flames please!
Disclaimer: No, I do not own POTC but if a certain Jack Sparrow ever came up for grabs you would not see me 4 dust….
Chapter One : Trapped
"Rum, lass! Gimme rum!" shouted the raving drunkard sitting at the best table of 'The Seaman's Inn'. Grace cursed vehemently as she tried to fill the tankard without adding to the already numerous spills on the tavern's floor. It had been a long, busy night and now here she was left with a man who had been more than a little worse for wear an hour ago, and was now so drunk his only goal was to keep on drinking.
"Coming sir," she answered contemptuously as she marched over to him and slammed the tankard down, rum spilling from the brim. She turned to go when a slimy paw grabbed her hand. She turned back to see the man's mottled, flabby face leering up at her. "Stay a while lass," he gloated, while stroking her hand in such a way that it made her flesh creep "keep a' old man comp'ny…." Grace smarted; here was just another swine in a long line of customers who thought just because he was loose with his money, she obviously must be too. It did not help that she was what polite people called petite and what others called short; it made even more men try to take advantage of her. "I'm sorry sir," she replied in a voice so icy it could have frozen the entire Caribbean "but just because I serve filth does not mean I bed it into the bargain." She tugged her hand away and was about to storm off when a pair of eager arms grabbed her waist and pulled her into his lap.
Grace cried out and squirmed desperately, trying to escape the man's surprisingly powerful grip. "Th're now lass, stay still," he said evilly, his vile breath making Grace gag "Ah swear I'll grow on yer," he smirked, cackling. Grace, still squirming, suddenly spied the man's pistol at his side. In a flash she had seized it and was up with it aimed, directly at her assailants forehead. The man changed instantly; from a jeering, lustful scoundrel, to a pitiful coward, white with fear. "Get out of my establishment, trash, before I blow your scurvy brains to hell and back." She ordered, her eyes flaming with anger. He struggled to his feet, quivering like a jelly. She followed him to the door, the gun at his back. Just as he reached the threshold, she added, "Wait. You may leave your purse. Your money is good even if you are not." She calmly took the purse from him, then booted him through the door. 'The Seaman's Inn" stood upon one of the few hills on the island, so the blackguard went rolling down the hill, crying out in pain. Grace watched him fall, then closed the door and leant against it. She looked ruefully at the purse in her hand, that would cover his expenses at least. As for the pistol, she thought turning to it, it could come in handy. Sighing, she locked the door, and went to bed.
The next day, Grace got up and walked into the kitchen. Surveying her dark, dreary not to mention dirty) surroundings, she realised that today, after what had happened last night and all, she just couldn't face it. Instead, she would go down to the beach at the base of the hill, and spend the day there. Still, she told herself, as she packed herself a lunch, it wasn't as if any of her regulars would visit before dusk, when their hangovers had lightened enough for them to find their way back. And besides, there was a little voice in the back of her mind telling her that she needed a rest, that she needed to go out today. As she grasped the door handle, she glanced back at the pistol, lying on the table where she had left it. She grabbed it, then strode out.
Once out in the warm, Caribbean sunshine Grace's mood automatically began to lift. She walked down the narrow, curving pathway, swinging her basket, smiling to herself. While admiring the gorgeous scenery around her she found that she couldn't remember the last time she had gone out like this, all alone, just to relax. It was as she was thinking this that she came round the last twist in the pathway, and was rewarded with a fine view of 'The Seaman's Inn' on the top of the hill. It was getting lately that she hated the sight of it. It struck her suddenly that she was probably going to spend the rest of her life in that tavern, serving scum like that drunk last night (Grace's blood boiled at the memory) for little pay or thanks, with only trips like this to alleviate the boredom every once in a while. The thought depressed her considerably. Her brother Thomas would tell her that it was her responsibility, her duty to their dearly departed mother. Grace scowled, he did not know what it was like to wake up to the same simple misery day after day, and to know that that was simply your lot in life, that it would never change or improve. No husband would come and rescue her, she was not pretty enough for that. She was trapped. Taking a deep breath to quell the hot tears pricking at her eyes, she carried on down the path.
She reached the end of the path in a slightly happier mood, and after having looked at the blisteringly hot sand on the beach, decided instead to eat her lunch in a little grotto she knew nearby. Her and Thomas had discovered it years ago and the tide would be out now. She climbed over various rockpools and such like until she reached the entrance. Pausing to catch her breath a moment, she stared into a still pool. With her dark brown hair, blue-grey eyes and dark tan skin, she was certainly not pretty (her brother had told her that often enough), but some of the more cultured customers at 'The Seaman's Inn' declared that she had a certain 'je ne sais quoi'. She did not believe them.
She was about to carry on when suddenly, she noticed something gleaming in the water. Curious, she reached down and plucked it out, then her eyes widened. It was a Spanish doubloon. Darting now, her eyes picked out yet another gleam in the shadows. There turned out to be an entire trail of them, leading directly to the grotto's main chamber, and when she got there, what she saw made her catch her breath. Treasure. Chest upon chest of gold and silver, coins bursting from every crack. Bags full of the rarest jewels, rubies, diamonds, pearls, emeralds and sapphires too. Cups and plates encrusted with gems had been dumped next to priceless ingots and silks. A carved teak box of fine jewellery lay next to Grace. She gingerly opened its lid, just one of the many necklaces, earrings or bracelets was worth more than Grace could ever dream of having. Worth more than enough to free her. She noticed a silver necklace hanging out of the side, set with blue opals and a single black pearl. She was about to touch it when a length of cold hard steel gently rapped her knuckles.
"I wouldn't touch that if I were you luv,"
She spun round in horror as a man stepped from the shadows, holding the sword with an expert hand. He was a head taller than Grace, with golden skin, dark eyes and even darker hair threaded with talismans. He wore a long worn jacket and hat, and a belt hung with a pistol and sheath. He was a pirate! She realised with another gasp. Only a pirate could have gathered this much wealth and hidden it, and she had, unwittingly, stumbled right onto their hiding place.
"I wasn't aware anyone else knew of this place. Than' you for correcting me," he drawled.
"You're a pirate," she whispered softly, hardly daring to believe it.
"Not just any pirate luv," he said, spreading his arms "I'm Cap'n Jack Sparrow."
"Who?" Grace asked, stunned.
"Whaddya mean who?" spluttered the man "I'm Cap'n Jack Sparrow!"
"Who?" she repeated blinking. At this, Jack (for that obviously was his name) thereupon looked so utterly crushed that Grace found herself struggling to make amends. "Then again, I do have a terrible memory for names, and this is a very small island…" As Jack's face began to brighten Grace caught herself. Why on earth was she trying to spare this man's feelings? He had a sword at her throat for crying out loud!!! With that, Grace remembered the pistol in her basket, and for once her meagre height was useful. She ducked under his sword arm and elbowed him in the gut. As he fell backwards she yanked the pistol out and pointed it deftly at his heart. Jack, taking in the situation, promptly dropped his sword and put his hands up.
"You be careful where you point that thing luv. Someone migh' get hurt. Probably me," he added, raising his eyebrows.
"You will let me go," she said uneasily.
"Certainly," Jack replied, then watched as his friend Gibbs knocked her out with the butt of his gun. "I'm afraid I didn't say anything about him, though" he said apologetically, getting up and looking down at the unconscious form.
"Whadllwe do with her Cap'n?" asked Gibbs. Jack thought for a moment.
"Take her on board."
"But Cap'n," argued Gibbs.
"The wind is against us Mr Gibbs and no doubt His Majesty's Navy is looking for us." Jack declared, leaning in "We don't need any witnesses to help them with that particular search," he explained, winking.
"Oh aye, Cap'n" agreed Gibbs, winking back.
And together the two pirates carried the girl back to their ship, the Black Pearl.
Well, that's the first chapter done. I have tried to get the way Jack talks right but even so, any tips? Press that little blue button now!
