Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's all Big Mickey's. The Mouse owns all. Damn that Mouse.
A/N: To those who read and/or reviewed my first chapter: you're all wonderful. I thank you very much. I feel much less incompetent now.
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Chapter two-"Putting Home Behind"
Contrary to popular belief, Lady Luck is in the habit of smiling on me. Of coarse, when she doesn't, I hold a cutlass to her throat until she co-operates, if you know what I mean, and what I mean is that I have to make my own luck sometimes. Whatever people may say about my fortunes, they don't know the whole story. Lady Luck and her son Coincidence have saved my skin a score of times.
And on that particular occasion, the Lady Luck had sent Ris Sparrow my way by way of Coincidence, to get me out of that mess.
After he led me away from the burnt-down barn, Ris took me into the local inn that, being so close to the port and therefore in constant proximity to thirsty sailors, doubled as a tavern. At that time of night, there was no one there who was paying any attention to anyone but themselves, and there was very little light, at least half of the candles in the wall and ceiling fixtures were out for the night. Ris took me inside, and sat me down opposite himself at a small table in a small, dim corner in a niche under the stairway.
Even the dim light in there was brighter than the night outside and I could get a better look at my uncle. He was, as I'd observed in the dark, a very tall man, very large and powerful, looking like a bear sitting across the table from me. His tangled dark-brown hair was in a loose braid to just past his shoulders, and on top of his head, he had a beaten looking, black- brown, leather tricorn hat. I hadn't seen this article outside, and I can only assume he'd been carrying it in his hand. Sorta makes sense, removing his hat for the newly deceased. His brown tunic and trousers and blue coat had been rather beaten looking too, as well as the blue bandana around his head and red bandana around his neck. I got the impression he'd been wearing all these things for a long time.
Ris watched me for a moment, as I stared blankly at the table. I heard him sigh, and he got up for a minute, and then returned.
"Jack?" he said. I looked up briefly at him, then back at the table. I heard clinking glass, and then a very small cup, a shot glass, appeared in my field of vision. I sniffed at the brown liquid contents. Rum. I looked up curiously at Ris. He nodded. "Go ahead, Jack-'ave just that little drink. You ever had anything to drink before?" I shook my head. A lie, technically: I'd stolen a sip from my father's beer mugs on several non-consecutive occasions, and liked what I tasted. "Well," Ris said, "I'm sayin' you can have one now."
"But I'm only ten years old, and-" I said questioningly, and looked up at him.
"Jack," Ris sighed "that's gotta be the smallest glass in existence. Not nearly enough there to get you sozzled. Besides, it'll help you out: after the sort of day you've had, you could probably do with a drink, no matter what your age. I know I'm having one."
There's Ris Sparrow's idea of problem solving for you.
I looked up at Ris in time to see him take a drink from a bottle in his hand, probably what was left after having put that miniscule amount in my glass. I nodded to him, and he nodded back. I picked up the tiny shot glass and drank from it. It tasted a lot different than my Dad's beer, and when I finished, I put the glass down and tried unsuccessfully to stifle a cough as it burned my throat. Ris grinned as he stifled amusement at it.
"Feel better? I know it calms my nerves." Ris said. I did feel better, less withdrawn, and more alert, though I'd had so little it was probably by nothing more than power of suggestion. And, as I looked at the lovely, glistening, bronze droplets left in the bottom of the glass, there began a passion of mine.
Ris began to introduce himself by more than name. Or perhaps I should say Captain Ris...and therein lies that coincidence I mentioned. Complete coincidence that my uncle Ris just happened to be the captain of a ship. Entirely coincidental that Ris just happened to be passing through Oxbay with the intention of visiting the brother he hadn't seen since they'd crossed the Atlantic from England then parted ways. Purely a twist of fate that he had arrived that day, and been there hardly two hours before the fire. And when we crossed paths at the barn, that was...well, I think you get the picture.
A series of happenstance occurrences, and outlandish ones at that. I'm well aware. My life seems to be made up of a whole lot of those. Come to think of it, I'd realized it right at that moment when he'd been telling me, and Ris saw it too.
"Jack, lad," Ris had said "You have the strangest sort of luck, but you've plenty of it."
I nodded vaguely. At the time, I hadn't the foggiest what he was talking about.
"Uncle Ris," I said, "You said you were a Captain. On a boat?"
"Ship." He corrected sternly enough that I got the message that there was a true hell of a difference.
"A merchant ship?" I asked further. My prank-accomplice, Ron, had a father who was a merchant sailor, and I was thinking it might be the same ship. That thought was put firmly out of my head by Ris' ironic, but not really guilty at all, laugh.
"After a manner. What me and my crew...obtain...does eventually get sold." He said, smiling slightly. I thought for a moment.
"Are you from a caravan ship? That escorts the merchants?" I ventured. Ris laughed ironically again.
"Not quite, lad, but you're on the right track. I'm the reason merchants need escorts."
From the expression on Ris' face, I imagine my eyes must have gone wide, or I'd looked like I didn't know what to say. But what I was thinking was apparently written all over my face, by the out and out laugh of Ris' reaction.
"Yeah, Jack, that's right." Ris said. "Plenty of fancy names for it...soldiers-of-fortune, corsair, thieves of the sea, privateers-"
I interrupted him.
"A privateer and a pirate aren't the same thing." I said. Not that I had a strong opinion, I was just regurgitating a scrap of information I'd heard when the mayor had been deliberating on politics. Ris smiled wryly.
"Depends on your point of view, doesn't it?"
"No..."
"Oh, aye? Well, imagine how you'd feel if you were the captain of an English ship and some French privateer told you that he's a privateer with a fancy letter of mark and all, and that piece of paper means that it's perfectly all right for him to go killing you and your crew, stealing everything on board, and sinking your ship. Besides, most privateers become pirates sooner or later." Ris said. "Don't argue with me on this, lad."
I nodded. I still wasn't convinced, but I let it drop until a better opportunity came up and perhaps when I knew more about my subject.
"Have you ever been on a ship, Jack?" Ris continued. I shook my head. "Well, is there an orphanage around here? You have any other relatives?" I shook my head again. "No one else at all who'd take you? Anyone at all would be better than I would. I don't know a thing about kids!" I thought hard for a moment. I couldn't think of anyone at all. Everyone knew I was a handful, and that I didn't get along with the other kids, and everyone thought I was a moron, so I shook my head. Ris sighed. "Fine. Jack, lad, I guess I'll take you in...well, take you onboard...just until I find someone else to watch you until you're old enough to move off on your own."
Apparently that had made me look some kind of excited, because Ris then said, "But only for the minimum amount of time. Don't get your hopes up."
I nodded my head quickly. Ris nodded back.
"Well, I'd come here to see my brother, but I guess since I've met up with my nephew instead, I guess there's nothing else to do." I nodded my head again. Looking back, I seemed to do a lot of that around Ris.
Ris finished what was left of the rum in the bottle in his hand and stood up from the table. I'll say this about my uncle: the man can take his drink. He looked like he hadn't had anything to drink at all that night. Perfectly sober, which is more than I can say about myself after about age fifteen, but since I'm trying to tell this story in order; I'll try not to digress there quite yet. I stood and followed Ris quietly out of the tavern. I know, doesn't seem much like me to follow anyone or behave quietly, even separately. Never mind both at the same time. But you gotta admit: first thing they teach you as a kid is to listen to any adult who acts like they're in charge and look like they know what they're doing. Fortunately, Ris immediately started training that out of me.
But once again I get ahead of myself. I went with Ris in the night, following him under the lit street lamps, down the hills to the front of town, and to the familiar wooden contraptions of the port. There was a small rowboat tied to the pier, and I looked out into the harbor to see what ship was there that could belong to Ris. A black-hulled ship with dark sails waited patiently like a grand shadow in the similarly tinted night. Ris followed my gaze and smiled proudly.
"Aye. That's her. That's my Black Pearl. The fastest...hell, the greatest ship in the ocean."
I looked up at Ris. I'd seen enough ships to be sure that this was an uncommonly nice one, but Ris had an expression in his eye that I didn't recognize at the time. But I'd understand one day, and, according to some, wear that expression myself.
Ris helped me into the rowboat and told me not to fidget. Then he got in himself and took up the oars. I watched him with mild interest in what he was doing, and it wasn't long before the crew aboard the Pearl was raising the rowboat up by hooks and pulleys and ropes. Ris got nimbly out then helped me out and on to the deck. I stood there, looking confused and probably a bit stupid.
I looked around at the men who were looking curiously at me. A motley lot my uncle commanded. Not that I'm one to talk. But at the time, they were making me nervous, and I stood close to Ris.
"Gents," Ris said, "This is my nephew. His name's Jack- Jack Sparrow."
I awaited the usual guffaws that followed the announcement of my unusual last name, but none came. Probably because it was late, work on a ship is hard, and these men were tired. Also, their captain shared my particular surname.
"His father was my brother. Didn't get to visit him on account of his being recently deceased. Which means Jack here is my brother's orphan. He'll be with us until I find somewhere else to put him."
My uncle's crew muttered some expression of common consent and wandered off. Ris looked at me, then started off to the stairs leading to below deck. He beckoned for me to follow him, which I promptly did.
"Jack, the crew sleep in hammocks in a single room. But since you're not from the crew and you're a bit young to be put up in there, I'll put up a hammock for you in some corner of the cargo hold. Same arrangement as with the cabin boy."
"Alright, sir." I said, mostly out of habit. I was tired, I'd had a long day and my brain was starting to shut it's self off. Ris laughed slightly.
"There's something new, even for me: someone calling me sir without adding, "You're making a scene"! Ris is just fine. Hell, even my own crew don't call me sir."
I nodded, suppressing a yawn. Ris lead me into the cargo hold, and moved some crates to clear out a corner. He went through a sack, and got out a hammock made of a rough, brown netting-like material, and hung it by rings attached to the wall and a pole a few feet away, for just such a purpose. When he finished, Ris gestured at it.
"There you go, Jack. This spot's your. The cabin boy's hammock in across the room. Can't see it from here, past all the boxes." I nodded, and climbed a bit clumsily up to sit on my hammock. I wasn't quite ready for sleep yet. Ris turned away and went back up on deck. I lay back in the hammock, deciding on the optimal way to get comfortable in it.
About a half an hour passed and everything was about still on the ship. The Pearl had left the port a while ago. I was, however, trying very hard not to think about that, and was, to tell the truth, succeeding.
I like to think I'm an optimist, at least a reasonable one. It's not as if anyone can say I've never made the best of a bad situation. At that time, I'd mostly pushed thoughts of the fire out of my head, and Oxbay was becoming a memory. I'd always dreamed of being off somewhere else, but farmers are tied to the land they work and farmers' young sons to their fathers, so the possibility of actually going anywhere was remote. But, there I was, and, oddly, rather pleased with myself. So my Uncle Christopher Sparrow was a pirate. So I had pirate blood in me. Well, that certainly explained some things.
After those thirty minutes had passed, I remembered Ris mentioning a cabin boy who was in here because he was in the same boat as me- pardon that pun- being to young to have his hammock in the same room with the rest of the crew. As I was thinking on this, Coincidence decided to make another appearance. I heard footsteps on the stairs. They were too light to belong to that hulking mass of human that called himself Ris Sparrow, but I sat up as best I could in a hammock and peered into the dark.
"Hello?" I asked of the dark. A young voice answered me. The voice was young enough that it hadn't changed yet.
"It's only me. Where are you?"
"Over here. Behind all these crates."
The footsteps got closer and a face looked out at me from behind the crates. I sat up on my hammock and took notice.
The person who had taken that very opportune moment to make an appearance was near my age, but a few years older and a few inches taller. He was fair- skinned for a kid who worked on a ship, though as a cabin boy he wouldn't be above deck as much as the crew. His hair was dark brown and it looked scruffy and a bit tangled, as if he tried to keep it neat and somewhat groomed, but it was simply not a possibility. He had curious eyes, brown like mine (though I'd observed it at the time as, "brown like rum") and some tattered tan breeches on, a tattered and formerly white shirt that was missing it's sleeves, and a faded red kerchief knotted around his neck, the ends dangling below his neck. He looked no older than thirteen or twelve, though by his clothes he was trying to look older and more like the pirates he worked for. He had a questioning incline to his head as he looked at me.
"You're the captain's nephew."
"I guess I am."
"Are you staying onboard? Long term?"
That question had sounded strange to me. Not only because it was an odd thing to say, but also because of the hopeful tone in his voice. I didn't understand it at the time seeing as I'd never wanted for peer companionship. Not because I had so much of it, but because I literally didn't want it. But hindsight's 20/20 and now I know he'd been excited and happy to see someone his own age onboard to talk to.
"I don't know how long. I don't think Ris wants to adopt me or keep me or anything, but I don't know how long it'll be before he finds somewhere suitable to drop me off."
"But until he does, you're staying."
I smiled. "Aye." I said jokingly, and the other boy laughed.
"Ris said your name was Jack Sparrow?" "That's right."
"Hello, Jack. My name is William. I want to be called Bill, but they say they won't call me that until I'm older. Right now, I'm just Billy. Billy Turner." He put his hand out for a handshake. I accepted it, and smiled.
"Hello, Billy!"
"Jack, can I ask you somethin'?"
"Sure. As long as I'm around here, we may as well be friends."
This notion seemed to please the whelp we'll call Billy until he earns otherwise, who smiled at me.
"Do you actually want to be dropped off anywhere?" Billy said "Or would you rather stay here on The Pearl? Ris wouldn't say no to another cabin boy, I bet."
"Oh, yeah," I said sarcastically "I really wanna be "dropped off" somewhere like so much cargo."
"I thought not." Billy laughed.
"Unfortunately, that's exactly what Uncle Ris said he was going to do. The minute he found somewhere suitable."
"When he finds somewhere suitable?" Billy asked, and I could see the wheels in his head start turning.
"That's what he said."
"Then we'll just have to make sure he doesn't find anything suitable about any place, heh?"
Billy gave me one of those mischievous half-smiles I was (and am) so known for. I practically saw what was in his head, and returned the expression.
"Yeah." I said, and we both laughed. We both intended to work out some way to make sure no where the Pearl stopped looked like any place to leave a ten year old.
Because, after all, who'd want to leave the Black Pearl?
A/N: There it is! Chapter two finished . The tragedy is over and the comedy/adventure part is ready to pick up. Jack finds out that his Uncle Ris is a pirate and Jack has been introduced to rum, the Black Pearl, and Billy the cabin boy, who, obviously, is the not-yet Bootstrap Bill Turner. Review please, and tell me when I'm being a moron!