Disclaimer: Yep. I can't write this. So…I've trained a monkey to type for me. Her name is Calamity Jane! And she's really snazzy. A really good trained monkey. I just write what I want her to say –no, don't touch that!- and she types it, simple as that. Of course, all the bananas are starting to smell. Jane don't like bananas…
AN (10/3): Ah aha. I like writing. I don't know why I gave up. Because I'm a loser. Oh, wait, I started college. So, since I have, I won't update very often… I feel like I've been away from Fanfic forever… Well, I truly have. But maybe I will update often. I've worked out a deal with my muse, Katie (who also happens to be my roommate): when she's practicing the trumpet, I get to write. Of course, I'm writing this right now and I really should be in bed. I mean, I have French bright and early…er…yeah. I'm rambling now, so I'm going to get on with it.
Homeward Bound: Chapter Four
"Captain!" a plaintive voice cried out, resembling Cotton's multicolored parrot who liked to make sure the rest of the crew were on task by yelling out random obscenities and pirate clichés. "Captain Sparrow!"
Jack merely rolled his kohl-lined eyes (a rare occurrence) at the sound of the voice. "What is it, Michael?" he asked tiredly, slumping over the helm and crossing his arms. He was exhausted. There were large bags under his eyes that clearly weren't merely from the kohl. Plus, he'd been rather irritable lately, what with the ineptitude of his new crew. The pirate captain hadn't been a captain in over ten years, after all, and he'd forgotten how horrid it was to have a man aboard who didn't understand a single thing. Pintel and Ragetti surely would've died if Barbossa had been able to kill them. Jack, while captain of the Pearl before, had come very close to it.
"Oh, there you are!" Michael said gleefully, resembling a young child after his mother came back into the room with a new toy. "I was wondering…"
"No. Whatever it is, no." Jack tiredly looked away from the young man stepping up the stairs to get onto the bridge. He was very sick of the blonde man's hypothetical questions. The last one he'd allowed the youth to ask had gone along the lines of 'if you were aboard a ship and the navy caught you and you battled with the navy and they killed most of your people and you were lost at sea and only had yourself, your first mate, and one of your crew members by your side, would you eventually resort to cannibalism to save your life, even if you had no way of cooking their meat and would probably die anyway?' There were those who believed there were no stupid questions. Jack had been one of those naïve fools, for a time, until meeting Michael. At least Ragetti and Pintel kept their brainless questions to themselves, generally.
"But you haven't even heard my question!" Michael protested, a petulant look to his blue eyes. This was one of those times you just wished something would explode on the ship and put you out of your misery…
The search for William Kidd's treasure wasn't exactly going to plan. Since Jack's hasty escape from Tortuga, ships had been following the Pearl's every move. All the greedy people in the world wanted what they thought they had a claim on. Since they didn't actually have the map, it was just best to follow like sheep. Jack was doing his best to winnow out the masses, but it was hard work and the closer they got to the island, the more the treasure seemed to call to Jack. He had foolish dreams of one day presenting it all to Nessa to get her off the streets… The longer the captain was at sea, the more he thought of her.
"I know," Jack said wearily, straightening out somewhat so that he didn't look as though he was trying to sleep on duty. "It's probably jus' another one of your ruddy what if's, isn't it?"
Michael frowned slightly and glanced towards the decks for a moment, indicating that it truly was. His mind was vainly searching for some other excuse. "Which side is port?"
Jack rolled his eyes again and pointed weakly, banging his head against the helm for a moment. This was all just some terrible dream and he'd be waking up any moment now, right? It seemed impossible that someone could actually be this thick. He'd clearly explained to Michael at least five times the directions on a ship. It wasn't that hard to grasp…
"Oh." Michael turned and looked at the port side of the Pearl, examining everything as though it were the first time he'd ever seen any of it. "I see," he said a moment later, chewing on his lower lip. "What is that?"
"What is what? Port?" Jack wearily shook his right hand. "I've told you already-"
"No, I know that," Michael interrupted almost proudly. He pointed. "That. That black speck. What is that? Is it a bug?"
"No…" Jack said with a frown as he looked up and glanced towards where Michael was pointing. His dark eyes widened. "No. Tha's no bug…tha's a ship. Since we're in Spanish waters…it very well could be the Navy…"
"Come on!" Jack said quickly, glancing at his crew. They all looked so weary, so ready to give up. But they couldn't give up. Jimenez himself was approaching, and he was out for blood. The Spaniard was Norrington's equal in all but one thing: Jimenez was cruel to those who broke the law. There was no mercy as far as he saw it. Jack really hated those ruddy officers who seemed to have a rule book crammed up their behinds… "We can 'old a bi' longer!" The two ships were intertwined much like a pair of snails that happen to meet in a luscious garden at the right time.
Captains were often required to yell such morale boosting comments, even if they truly thought their ship was doomed and was about to meet the bottom of Davy Jones' Locker. Jack didn't think that would happen…but the number of bodies on deck was far from encouraging. Moshe, Dungbie, and Crimp were all dead. Their precious blood was staining the decks of the Pearl a curious color. The Pearl hadn't seen this much blood in many a year, due to the fact that Barbossa's men couldn't bleed and that Jack hadn't been in any major scrimmages since receiving the Pearl… She seemed unnerved by the blood as well, for she was pitching to and fro much more than she generally did in weather like this.
Fortunately for the safety of the crew, the morale boosting comment was enough to give them a little more vigor. Jimenez soon was forced to back up, towards his ship. The Spanish man was excited about catching the famed Captain Jack Sparrow who'd escaped from Commodore James Norrington right under Norrington's nose. They really had quite a rivalry, the Spanish and English. Jimenez was always trying to "one-up" the auspicious Commodore who now seemed obsessed to the point of distraction in regards to the infamous pirate captain. How better to appear more capable than Norrington than to catch the very man he was after?
The look in Jimenez's dark eyes was one of complete disgust, though, as he watched his crew heading back towards his ship. Jimenez was used to winning; he'd never faced a man before that didn't inevitably surrender. Of course, Jimenez didn't often go against desperate pirate captains who would rather die than surrender… Swearing lightly as another of his officers ran past him towards their bridge, Jimenez spat on the decks of his ship and pulled out his sword. This Sparrow fellow was his.
"And I'm tellin' you, I'm not a bloody soldier or privateer," Jack practically growled, rancor in his dark eyes as a Spaniard neared him holding pincers that didn't look very nice at all. The metal was almost corroded away and the way the Spaniard was holding it seemed to indicate that he was about to use it to break Jack's nose. Jack, obviously, didn't want his nose to break, especially with such a filthy instrument… The Spaniards had kept him in the brig of Jimenez's ship for the past five days with nothing to eat or drink. That was after a week of various types of torture. Jimenez wanted to know why Norrington didn't kill Jack when he had the opportunity, before. It made more sense to him to kill the blacksmith, who would stand as a martyr, to get a pirate like Jack out of the way. The cruel man reasoned that Jack must've made a deal with the venerated Commodore, hence all this fuss over what Jack knew.
"Never have been, never will be," the Spaniard mocked, adding what Jack typically said after that sentence with an exaggerated accent. They'd heard that from Jack so much they could recite it from memory. There comes a point when people reach a breaking point. Jack was very close to it; he'd never been treated this cruelly his entire life. The only thing keeping him going was the knowledge that the Pearl was safe in the hands of Anamaria and Gibbs. The Spaniards had nearly fully retreated when Jimenez managed to knock Jack out. He'd pulled the pirate captain off the ship. Unfortunately, nobody had noticed until after Jack was already incarcerated and the Pearl had changed course to limp back to Tortuga and lick her wounds. They were worried about their captain, but they knew he'd join up with them again if possible. Being a pirate is a dangerous profession.
"Exactly," Jack said with a forced sigh of relief. "I'm glad ye've finally figured it out. I can't believe it took me so long t'-"
"Quiet, English scum," the Spaniard said angrily, waving the pincers threateningly towards Jack. "Jimenez is going to talk to you." He seemed disappointed, seeing as Jimenez didn't like watching the pincer treatment.
"Oh, wow!" Jack said excitedly, struggling to sit up a bit straighter. He'd been chained to the wall with so many chains it was ridiculous. Everyone in the Caribbean knew how wily the captain could be and knew that he was harder to keep in jail than a snake. Of course, this was going to the extreme…Jack had a hard time breathing because of the pressure, as well as the metallic smell… "I've been wanting t' speak to him. Surely he's more sensible than the rat who likes talkin' t' me…"
"I wouldn't be so sure," the Spaniard replied with a shrug, leaning against one of the iron bars the brig was made of. "Jimenez doesn't offer mercy. He just wants to get rid of you." He smiled vaguely and then abruptly came to attention, saluting as the smartly dressed Jimenez stepped into the cell.
Jimenez was a strict disciplinarian. He ran his ship much like the way he dressed; everything was in place and perfect. His uniform was freshly pressed, his dark hair immaculately pulled back beneath his wig. His dark eyes were stern as he stared at Jack. He muttered something in Spanish to his underling and the man instantly left the brig. "Captain Sparrow," he said very softly, approaching the fatigued captain cautiously as though he were nearing a feral animal.
"Jimenez. Lovely to see you again." Jack smiled vacantly. "I never thought I'd be so 'appy to see someone's face as I am now. If I could get up, I'd kiss ye, mate." He glanced down at his hands, twirling the silver ring on his index finger over.
"I do not doubt that," Jimenez responded, a glimmer of curiosity dancing across his eyes. "My men say you've lost your mind."
"How could I lose somethin' I've never had?" Jack asked earnestly, still staring at his hands. "I don' fink I've lost my mind. If I did think I had lost it, I probably would prove I'm perfectly sane. Don' it require a smidgen o' sanity to realize you're not sane?"
"I suppose…" Jimenez reluctantly admitted, leaning down near Jack. "What are you up to, Sparrow?"
"The paperweights are flying away again." Jack's kohl-lined eyes were as expressive as dead fish eyes as he continued to stare at his hands. "And I'm telling you, I'm not a soldier or a privateer. Ne'er have been, ne'er will be."
"You've told me that," Jimenez snapped, frowning at Jack. "I'm not a fool. I know as well as you do that you're not really insane. Drop the act. We've decided to give you to the British in exchange for something of value."
"Value as in black and white or value as in money?" Jack asked as he glanced up at Jimenez, the blank look still in his eyes. He looked absolutely miserable, his hair was wild even for him.
"Money," Jimenez quipped. "Why would I be interested in black and white?" Humans have an innate desire to want to test the boundaries of insanity in another human. Altered states of consciousness are always intriguing.
"Because black and white would help you rule the world," Jack replied simply. "But it doesn't matter, I guess. Be' that he'd pay a lo' for me. I bet women would pay more. Why do I pay them?" He seemed genuinely puzzled.
Jimenez bit his large lower lip for a moment, disgust and slight envy in his eyes. "Look, you need not keep this façade around me. Soon you will be safely locked up on land for several months until the English Navy finally manages to come and get you." He laughed. "And once their money comes. Which might take a very long time."
"I mean, it don' make much sense for me to pay them…they seem to get more out of the whole interchange than I do." Jack frowned and looked at his hands again. "I'd rather not take their money, though. Money is…fluid. Always moving from person to person. If they paid me, I'd never get rid of it. I can't break the ruddy cycle."
Jimenez sighed and stood erect. "Glad we could have this talk, Sparrow."
Jack's eyes widened. "And I'm telling you, I'm not a soldier or a privateer. Ne'er have been, ne'er will be." He put his chin to his chest and fell completely silent.
Jimenez stared at him for a long while before finally leaving the cell, snapping something angrily to the man holding the pincers. There was no point in torturing the captain any further. All the information he knew had been extracted and a broken and insane man was all that was left. The interchange had convinced him of that.
Once Jack was safely alone in his jail cell, the tired captain breathed a sigh of relief. "Nessa…I really don' know how much longer I can do this," he said, a fanciful note to his voice. He liked speaking to the redhead, even though he was perfectly aware that the beautiful siren couldn't hear him. This charade would either work or genuinely drive him insane…
Just a quick thank you to all reviewers. I don't think I'm allowed to individually (feel free to correct me, if I'm wrong)thank all y'all, but I'd love to give y'all hugs or something…