Author's Note: Sorry I took so long to update. This chapter's a bit short, but the next one
will come out soon, and hopefully be a bit longer. Once again I don't have a beta reader, so
feel free to tell me about any mistakes. This story has officially progressed beyond an
experiment. I'm pretty sure I'll finish it. And I still don't own PotC. And I'm sorry about the
spacing, but I tried to fix it for over an hour and it didn't work, so deal.
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W.W.T.:
Luck and Legends. An old run down tavern, which was a favourite loitering place for old
sea dogs who just wanted to reminisce about the good old days. And, unbeknownst to the
Royal Navy, this inconspicuous tavern was filled daily with wealthy retired pirates who wanted
to keep their booty away from the long arm of the law.
Mr. Joshamee Gibbs, who was rumoured to have been part of both the Royal Navy and
Jack Sparrow's crew during the infamous un-dead pirate adventure, was the proprietor of the
establishment, and could be seen lounging in front of the fire trading stories at this very moment.
He had also made it his duty, in the five years that he'd been living in the upstairs suite, to remind
every captain of every ship that ever set sail from the nearby harbour about all the little things
they were doing that would bring bad luck to the voyage. Every so often he also wandered
down to the shipyards to witness the construction of the newest naval and merchant vessels and
reminded the shipbuilders to slip in a silver coin under the mast for luck.
A gentle salty breeze wafted through the nearest window bringing the cool twilight air to
the few not-quite-drunk-yet patrons of the Luck and Legends who were huddled by the roaring
fire. Mr. Gibbs, who was still easily recognisable by his rather large sideburns that had recently
turned snow white, was discussing something with a frail old bearded man, who had a parrot
perched on his shoulder, and with a young man who could hardly be more than one-and-twenty.
The old man, Mr. Cotton, was seated in his usual padded gilt chair, which looked out of
place in the somewhat seedy tavern, and close to the fire. Mr. Gibbs, being one of the few
people who could understand the parrot, had taken care of the old sailor once he became too
weak to stand up on his own. The colourful parrot currently perched on Mr. Cotton's shoulder
had surprisingly survived many years beyond its natural lifespan.
The young man, William Turner the third, usually known as Bill to avoid confusion with his
father William Turner the second, was a spitting image of said father and his grandfather before
him. The only difference between the three generations, as told by Mr. Gibbs, was the lack of
facial hair on the last descendant and that Bill's hair was a little lighter than his father's.
"So Billy-me-boy," Gibbs said, "I've heard some mutual friends of ours are coming in next
week. I haven't seen those two fer almost a year now."
Nodding, Bill replied, "Yes, they should dock in three days, if Jack's on time. It was
Eliz—Pearl's birthday last week. Jack said he's bringing her here as a birthday surprise."
"Aye. And wish the lass a happy birthday from the both of us, won't you."
"Wind in yer sails. Wind in yer sails," confirmed Mr. Cotton's parrot.
"I'll bring her down here to say hello," said Bill.
"And bring her father too," Gibbs added with a smile "Even though he's only here once or
twice a year, he's one of me best customers."
At that moment, a young boy, who could scarcely be over ten, ran into the tavern in a
great hurry. He looked around the room for someone, and when his eyes fell on Mr. Gibbs, he
hurried over and said in a great hurry, "Itshere. Hegavemeashillingtotellyou."
"Calm down, boy. Take a deep breath and repeat what ye just said,...except much slower.
What's here?" Gibbs asked.
The boy followed his orders precisely, taking a huge gulp of air. His face was flushed and
he looked as if he'd run across town.
"The Black Pearl, sir. It's come early. The cap'n gave me a shilling to tell you that...And 'e
said ye'd give me another shilling when I told you." The last part was added a bit slyly, as if he
hoped to earn an extra shilling.
"When? How long ago?" Bill interjected, rising from his seat.
"It came in a few hours ago, but the cap'n only told me to tell ye a few minutes ago. He
was gettin' on a carriage with a real pretty lass. They headed up towards them high-society folk's
houses." The boy was adding information in an expectant tone, hoping for a little tip.
Upon hearing this, Bill muttered, "They're heading for my house," shoved his flagon
towards Gibbs, spilling rum on the old man's shirt, and took off running much faster than the boy
had, knocking down two drunks on his way out.
Shaking his head at the madness of today's youth, Gibbs went to help his customers up
and clean off his sopping shirt.
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Author's Note: Sorry I took so long to update. This chapter's a bit short, but the next one will
come out soon, and hopefully be a bit longer. Once again I don't have a beta reader, so feel free
to tell me about any mistakes. This story has officially progressed beyond an experiment. I'm
pretty sure I'll finish it.
ThePinkPanther: Yes, I'm going to continue. Is your name based on the movie or cartoon?
catpaws51784: I did read it. Yeah, the name thing is wierd. No, my birthday's not in May. It's
on October fifteenth.
moonlightstarlight: Thank you for the compliment. Love your name, by the way.