Liberty, Equality. Fraternity -by Cunien

Hello people! Long time no see! If you have a spare moment or two, check out my livejournal at
for updates, or this spiffing PotC fic challenge and reccs communtiy that we've Maybe some mild cockney swearing, and violence too - Jack thinks nothing of it, so don't trouble yourself over it. He's like a cartoon character - he just bounces right back!

WARNING!: Yesterday I had an epiphany while hoovering at work - and before we get stuck in I want to warn people that this story *may* deal with some pretty heavy themes - racism, violence, torture - you know the drill.
*BUT*, Jack is not one to make a big deal over things, so I'm going to try and write it in his normal, rather blase' style, although it should be obvious to us that Jack really is rather messed up by the whole affair.
So if it get's too much, I might up the rating, or put a secondary theme of angst' in there, but never fear, this is still primarily a humour' fic. If it fails at this, let it be because I'm a rubbish writer with a poor sense of humour, rather than because it's too serious and sad. *END OF WARNING* Alright people, go about your business.
Chapter 4- Fun and games.

Smug git.

That's one thing I hate in a man, something I can't abide - smugness. Of course, it's alright when I'm the man in question, but on anyone else it's just wrong, like another man wearing my hat.

Gabriel Jones ordered various members of the crew, I suspect those with the most violent dispositions, to tie me to the mast. He claimed I'd do more damage, intentional or otherwise if I wasn't properly restrained'.

After a while he made them gag me too.

At sunset they untied me and prodded me once round the deck, let me have a drink (water), and see to my business.

Then they roughed me up a bit and tied me back to the mast.

That night a storm came in, and guess who got a first class view of the whole thing? I slept a bit when the rain stopped, but was so bloody soaked and cold, and kept having nightmares about my whole body puckering like your fingers when you've been too long in the water.

The next day was, I'm sure, one of the hottest that's ever been. Since the beginning of time. And just because it was very amusing, they took my hat and my shirt. And made me stand there all day in the baking heat.

Now if you're a newcomer to my little fireside tales, you may be suprised at this, but Jack Sparrow and the sun aren't the best of friends. Well, it's all fun and games when you have something to protect your head, or when you can nip into the shade to cool down every half hour or so.

But when you're tied to the mast on the hottest day of summer with a barehead - well, that ain't natural for anyone.

And as they were playing at jesters that day, they didn't give me any water, no matter how long I begged. Well, a man has his pride, but I'm sorry luv - if it's a toss up between being proud or breathing, I'll take the latter and scarper thankyou very much. Reputations can be rebuilt, but as far as I know anyhow, there ain't no way to come back once you've shuffled off this mortal coil.

And I'm rather taken with this living' lark.

Dear God that was one of the longest days of my life.

But I came out the winner, didn't I? Eh? Cos I'm still here, alive and kicking, to tell you this tale. Whereas last thing I heard they was all dead, or bound for the gallows at least.

Anyway, around sunset that evening, the bo'sun, wearing a rather fetching flowered bonnet with pink ostrich feathers came to untie me.

To be quite honest, I can't be a hundred percent sure he was actually wearing a flowered bonnet with pink ostrich feathers, as I'd been standing in the sun for quite a while, and that has been known to play silly-buggers with a man's head.

But I admired his hat anyway, and told him it brought out the colour in his eyes. He looked at me funny and then punched me in the face.

Come to think of it that was probably quite a clear sign that he wasn't wearing the hat in question.

So this fellow unties me and I go sagging like I haven't a bone in my body, which is rather embarassing as you can imagine. I take some pleasure in the fact that I was all elbows and knees, and the ruffian had to carry me. And my elbows and knees might have connected with a few rather delicate areas of his on more than one occasion. Completely by accident, of course.

Anyway, there was this commotion on deck and Gabriel appeared, looking very pleased with himself. He stood on the gunnels and surveyed the approaching Nassau Port like a conquering hero, returning with the spoils of war.

Nice to be home, eh? I croaked.

He made like he hadn't heard me, but I could tell by the little twitch around his eyes that he had. A lot of people try to ignore me. So much so that I've become accustomed to the signs that say they did actually here me and are just playing.

And I've also become a dab-hand at getting people who are trying to ignore me to crack, and shout, or laugh, or acknowledge me in some way, even if that way is a swift kick to the stomach.

Normally I just annoy them so much that they give in. I'm good at that, me.

But this time, as things were going, I didn't feel like pushing my luck.

So I let the Ruffian manhandle me off the boat when we came into port. At first he tried to carry me, and then gave in, and half supported, half lifted me along. Then he just grabbed hold of my arms and dragged. I let myself be pulled along, enjoying the scenery and digging in my heels every here and there, because obviously, my legs weren't yet my own again. And it made life a little harder for the Ruffian.

He huffed and puffed, and seemed well pleased to be shot of me when he let go of my arms and let me fall to the ground. From my vantage point of flat on my back, I could see the curling orange clouds of evening, and the stars beginning to peep out. Over to my right a palm frond or two poked it's way into my line of sight, but other than that the night was clear.

Until Gabriel appeared, looming over me. I jumped and swore, because having him appear out of nowhere above you is not a sight you relish.

He smiled grimly, and his ruffians half kicked, half rolled me through a doorway and into a small one-roomed building.

In truth, I'd had control of my legs again for some time, but really, when it comes to walking somewhere or getting a free ride, I know which one I'd choose. Even if you're arms do feel like they've been half pulled out of their sockets by the end.

But then I wished I hadn't played around, because when it comes to walking into a building or getting kicked in, I know which one I'd choose.

The building had stone walls almost a meter thick, and a hefty iron grid as a roof. There was nothing in it, except a wooden block propped against the wall and a little half rotten straw on the floor, stained with dark patches that I didn't like the look of at all. They looked liquid black in the evening light, but the tangey coppery smell in the air gave them away.

I shivered. When you walk in to a room that smells of blood you just know there's going to be fun and high-jinks ahead don't you?

They kicked me in and grabbed my hair to make me kneel in front of them, while another went and hefted the big wooden block I'd seen against the wall.

Oh this just got better and better.

The block turned out to be some horrible sort of stocks thing.

I said as I tried to scrabble away from them, Do you really think I merit such precautions?!

They didn't answer.

I'm naught but a humble pirate! I pleaded, Thick as two short planks, me! This room with meter thick stone walls and cast iron door is quite enough!

It's at a time like this when having a reputation like mine is a disadvantage. Now, if I was any old man, they wouldn't be doing this.

But instead I had to be me.
I mean, of all the bleeding people in the world, I had to be Captain Jack Sparrow, didn't I? Just my bloody luck.

Who vanished from under the eyes of seven agents of the East India Company.
Who continues to defy death and achieve the impossible.

Who generally sticks two fingers up at danger, nicks it's purse, kicks it in the privates and sails off into the horizon with it's wife.

So me being the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow, they put the stocks on my shoulders, behind my neck, and lifted my arms to clamp them in the tight iron cuffs secured to either end.

They hauled me to me feet, and I felt like I was being bloody crucified.

Now I've never been one to observe the rules of a fair fight, and if you want proof just ask William Turner. But I do have morals, even if they are slightly skewed, normally in my favour.

Because there is nothing moral or fair about locking someone's arms to a heavy wooden stocks, and then taking turns to punch him in the stomach until he falls over.

After a while they got tired and left me in the little cell by myself, where I let my blood join the sticky stains on the floor.

TBC...

Eww Jack. Poor schnoockums. Sorry about nor posting for ages. Please don't lose patience with this tale. There's a lot to tell, and Jack isn't nearly ready to shut up yet.
x.x.x