The Truth

Summary: The truth about the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow. The stories are true, the rumours are true. But what's behind all of that? Where did he come from?

Disclaimer: I #cough# own Captain Jack Sparrow. I #cough# do. So there.

Author's Note: I am supposed to be working on another story, but I have lost insperation. But I will continue it eventually. I will! Anyway, this story is just something that just randomly popped into my head. I've got no idea where it's gonna go, or what's gonna happen. So if it's crap blame... er... well, anyone but me. Blame Bob.

Please review. If you hate it, let me know. If you love it, let me know. If you're only reading this because I sent you the link and you feel compelled to, review. And if you do, I promise to reply to every one of you. Unless you don't want me to. Thank you for listening. D

"You've got to be the worst pirate I've ever heard of!"

"But you have heard of me."

Well, at least the myth is still alive.

Norrington clamped me in irons an attempted to drag me off to the cells shortly after that comment. But I, being I, escaped. Beautifully in fact. Not so much as a bullet graze.

But now here I sit, (biding my time, obviously) in the cells, listening to the clear up of Port Royale. Perfect time to reflect on my life.

Well... where to start? I was born to a king and queen of Philadelphia. I was raised by the most gorgeous maid and had everything I ever wanted.

Pah.

I was born in England. Portsmouth to be exact.

My father was rich. I don't know what he did for a living, but it wasn't legal, whatever it was, but it meant he was out 12 hours a day, everyday, except Sunday. My mother stayed at home 'entertaining' her male 'guests' upstairs.

My father decided, that as he could afford it, I should receive the best possible education. So, during the long, tedious hours of the day, I sat in the downstairs schoolroom and was tutored by a stony-faced, quick-tempered schoolmaster. I have the marks on my buttocks to prove it. As a child I loathed my father for it, and for most of the time he was home I begged him to let me run wild with the other children my age.

He refused. Though I suppose I am grateful. Education comes in very handy.

When I was 12, however, everything changed. My father was caught for his illegal dealings, and was hanged in the local square.

It wasn't a particularly sad day. We were never very close- except when he laid me across his knee and added to the marks on my already bruised behind.

My mother was distraught. She had lost all ofher money and none of her 'guests' were interested in her anymore.

So we moved to London. She found a job in the local tavern. Apparently sheserved drinks, butI stonglydoubt that.

During the day I was left to fend for myself. Having never done this before it presented more of a challenge then I first expected.

However, I made friends quickly, and soon adopted the London cockney accent. I soon discovered I was a better thief then many of the children I ran with- and I'd only been at it a few months.

My mother was of course suspicious of where I'd acquired the leather wallets, gold chains and jewellery I often came home with. Giving her a little over half of what I'd 'earned' soon got her to turn a blind eye.

She spent the money on alcohol, andsoon became an alcoholic. After a few months she was a wreck, and a few months after that I came home to find her drowned in her own vomit.

To make matters worse, it turned out she owed people money, and lots of it. When I told her she was dead they demanded the money off me. So I fled.

I left London and found my way to the coast.

I had nowhere to go, nothing to do, so I decided to sign onto a ship. The first few I asked were full. The next few were navy vessels and refused to take me on. The next few were empty, and the last few didn't speak English.

I'd soon lost all hope, and simply sat on a pile of coiled ropes, watching the sunset.

It was then that my luck changed. A sailor and a young boy walked past me, the boy looked very sick. They disappeared into the town for an hour or so. Then the sailor returned. He spotted me sitting on my ropes and stopped to stare at me.

"Yessir?" I said, slightly impatiently, as he didn't seem to want to speak.

"How old are ye, boy?" The sailor asked.

"Thirteen," I replied. "Fourteen in a few months."

The sailor nodded.

"What's yer name?" He asked.

"Jack," I said. "Jack Sparrow."

"Good strong name." The sailor remarked.

"That'll one day be feared by man and beast alike," I joked lightly.

The sailor nodded, smiling slightly.

"Ever sailed a'fore?" He asked, nodding to the ships floating silently behind him.

I shook my head.

"Want t' learn?" He asked.

I looked up hardly daring what I was hearing.

"Yeah!" I said excitedly.

"Then it's yes sir," the sailor said, a grin spreading onto his face. "I'm Jacob Halford. First mate of The Leaping Wave. Ye can call me Jakey. Our last cabin boy just got sick."

"I noticed," I commented. "Is 'e alright?"

"No," Jakey said. "But 'e'll live I expect. Can ye read?"

"Yeh," I answered, finally grateful for the long hours spent pouring over long, boring novels.

"Yeh can?" Jakey looked surprised, as I stood up. He lookedme up and down."Come on then."

He led me to a smallish ship made of dark wood. It wasn't the grandest ship there, but to me it was like heaven.

I later learned that they were not the respectable merchant sailors I had assumed they were. They were pirates. But they treated me all right enough. I was expected to learn quickly, which I did, and soon I could imagine no other life for myself, except that of a sailor. Well, pirate.

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