Chapter 3- The Hat

Thanks for reviewing. I'm leaving for vacation Saturday, July 30, and I won't be back until August 11th. After that, I'm going to sleepaway camp on the 15th. I also need to actually write chapter four. But, I swear I'll try my very hardest to get it up between vacation and camp. Alright... I think that's all. On to the story!

-

"You okay, Jack?" Jacob finally asked, once he could no longer ignore the fact that Jack had been staring off into space for the last few minutes instead of participating in the conversation he'd been having with Charlie over supper.

"Is anyone?" Jack did not look at Jacob; he seemed utterly engrossed in the piece of hardtack he was knawing on. (If the reader has ever had hardtack, you will know that knawing on it is the only way it can be eaten.)

Jacob gave Charlie an exasperated look. This had been Jack's reply to similar questions for the past few days. He seemed to be going through a depressed mood, and nothing either Jacob or Charlie tried to do could bring him out of it.

The reason for his depression was that, after almost exactly one year, he had done nothing to fulfill his vow. He had thought about it a great deal, but he was, for the moment, helpless to make it come about.

The first step to fame, Jack reasoned, was getting your own ship. Doing that, however, had a set of problems all it's own. To get a ship, one needed money. Unless, of course one wanted to commandeer a vessel, but Jack had reasoned that a seventeen-year-old boy had little chance of pulling that off. So, back to needing money.

Jack wasn't sure how much a ship cost, but he knew that it would take him at least two or three year's worth of savings to get the money. If he were promoted he would be able to earn more money, so he had been working harder then usual for the last few weeks. But the Captain still had not noticed.

He had thought he might have a chance to prove his worth a few days ago, when the Captain informed the crew that the deck was in need of re-tarring. "I know it ain't a job any of you likes," he had said, "But do I have anyone willing to volunteer?"

Jack's hand had shot up. "I'll do it, sir!"

The Captain smiled at him. "Good man, Jack. Anyone else, or do I have to assign some of ye?" And that had been that. When Jack sank into his hammock that evening he was a great deal sorer, but still a common sailor.

"Tell us Jack, why so pessimistic?" Jacob's voice brought him out of his thoughts.

"No reason."

"C'mon, there has to be one!" Charlie said.

"Well, there isn't, alright! Just leave me alone!" And with that, Jack stormed out of the mess hall, taking his mostly uneaten piece of hardtack with him.

When he reached the deck, he made his way over to the railing and leaned against it, as he often did when he was pensive. He took a bite of hardtack, but unluckily found that he had bitten into a weevil. He spit it out, grimacing.

"The bloody worse part o' bein' a pirate is the damn food." He muttered.

"Are you all right?" someone asked from behind him.

Jack spun around, to find that the person who spoke had been the captain.

The captain was called Furious Red in the few stories told about him, named for his hair color and fierceness in battle. Otherwise, however, the captain was a fairly decent man, and most aboard the ship called him Captain Red, good-naturedly. Only the bosun, who had known him for twenty years, called him James, his given name.

"I'm fine, sir." Jack said.

"That'd be why you aren't enjoying some time with your friends in the mess hall?" Red raised his eyebrows.

"I didn't feel like it tonight, sir." Jack said.

"Care to share why not?"

"I took an oath, and I don't know how to keep it."

"Well, what was the oath?"

Jack hesitated.

Red's look softened. "This is more serious than a child's fancy, then." He observed softly.

Jack swallowed. "Yes, sir."

"You can tell me, Jack. I swear I ain't gonna laugh at ye."

"My father says that our family's cursed. I- I swore to him that I'd break it." It was an immense relief to get what he had as of yet told no one off his chest.

"This is very important to you, isn't it?"

He nodded, relieved that the captain seemed to understand.

Red clapped him on the shoulder. "I wish you the best of luck, then." With that, he walked away.

Jack spun around. To say that he was disappointed would have been a massive understatement. "I don't get any advice, or anything?" he asked.

"The best advice comes when you aren't looking for it." Red said simply.

-

The next day, Jack had changed his attitude. He no longer moped, but tried to be exceptionally alert to everything that was going on around him.

Red had given him advice after all, he had realized. "The best advice comes when you aren't looking for it."

This made him think. If advice could be so cleverly hidden like that, could not other things be, too? What he seemed to be saying was to be constantly alert.

So Jack began looking for hidden nuances in everyday conversations. He learned that body language often spoke truth when words lied, and a smile that did not reach the eyes was usually an untruth.

Soon his crewmates began to grow wary of him. Jack seemed to know things, things that no one else could possibly have noticed. In a few weeks, it became known that Harvey, who to all seemed to steadily dislike his brother Mark, actually would do anything for him; the affable Kevin secretly despised Pierre; and Jules had a mistress back in Tortuga who was loyal only to him.

Many in the crew, especially the ones who had been exposed, began to avoid Jack like the plague. Jack himself did not honestly mind. He still had a few friends, and did not see the need to be popular.

Charlie and Jacob seemed to be the only ones who were bothered by the situation, so they advised him. Charlie said that he should stop doing whatever it was that was allowing him to know all these things; Jacob said that he should keep doing it but stop making his knowledge public. Jack took Jacob's advice. Of course he didn't care if he was well liked or not, but if he did not make the things he knew public they became valuable weapons.

So, Jack slowly returned to favor among the members of the crew. Of course there were still those, like Harvey and Jules, who disliked him. They took to teasing, ridiculing, and annoying him, being mean and generally not making his life easy.

But when Jack looked back on these events in the weeks to come, he saw them for what they truly were- the last semblances of calm before the proverbial and much dreaded storm.

-

About two weeks into Jack's return to favor, a ship was spotted on the horizon one morning. She was a French merchant ship, and too much for the captain to resist. They ran up the French flag and shot off a friendly salute. The ship, thinking she had found an ally, drew closer.

As soon as she was in firing distance, Red gave the order to hoist the Jolly Roger. By then, it was too late for the other ship. They opened fire on her. Being a merchant ship, she was unequipped for battle. Red, who was usually humane, gave them an offer- surrender, and all those who wished to join his crew would be allowed to. Those who wanted to be "bloody righteous idiots" would be set adrift in a small boat with a few supplies.

Most chose the former. Some chose the latter. Red sent Charlie, Jacob, Jack, Mark, and Kevin over to deal with the "bloody righteous idiots."

There was a sailor on this ship who had more cause to hate pirates than most. They had killed his wife and children. These pirates were not the same, but to Jacques Dovet it mattered not.

As the selected members of the pirate crew loaded the boat he and others were to be set drift in with supplies, Jacques crept up behind them. Only a few noticed, and they were on his side, so it mattered not.

He chose his target- the old, fat one nearest him. Upon reaching him, he took out a dagger that he had concealed and stabbed him in the back. Charlie fell to the ground with a cry.

"No!" Jack yelled, running to him.

Jacob turned upon Jaques with rage in his eyes. In the blink of an eye, He drew his sword and stabbed him through the chest. Then he also went to Charlie's side.

Mark and Kevin drew their swords and made it very clear that any who tried to do anything like that would suffer a similar fate to Jacques'. They conveyed this message very effectively and in a way that made the fact that they did not speak French a complete moot point.

Jacob and Jack, however, were oblivious to all this. They had been put in the most horrible of positions- their friend was horribly wounded and was bleeding in their arms.

At this point I am going to put you, the reader, out of the misery of the suspense I have just built up. Charlie is, indeed, going to die. He will meet his end and not linger, or, indeed suffer much. He will exchange a few words with Jack and Jacob, and do one more thing besides. Now, let us return to the scene.

"Charlie…" Jack said brokenly. "It'll be okay, you'll be alright…"

Charlie shook his head. "I'm gonna die, Jack, and we both know it." He managed. He turned to Jacob. "Look after 'im." He implored, motioning at Jack.

"I will." Jacob promised.

"Jack," Charlie said. "I want ye teh 'ave this." He took the hat from his head and held it out with a trembling hand. Jack took it.

"Ye're a good pirate, Jack," he said softly. "I 'ope…"

But whatever it was that he had hoped, it was not to be known, for Charlie went limp with a sigh, and exited this world.

Jacob closed his eyes and murmured a prayer. Jack burst into tears.

-

They put Charlie's body in his hammock and sewed it up. Then they held the funeral. Red read a few verses from his bible, and Jacob and Jack said a few words. Then they committed his body to the sea.

Jack wallowed in his despair for days after. He went about his work slowly and dejectedly, speaking to no one. He would not eat unless Jacob made him, and he spent all his free time lying in his hammock.

After almost a week of this, Red decided that something needed to be done. So he called Jack to his cabin.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Jack asked, peeking his head around the door.

"Come in, Jack." Red said.

He did so. Red bade him to sit in one of the chairs he had set facing each other.

"Jack, I've been noticing something." The Captain said as he took a seat in the other chair.

"What's that, sir?"

"It's that ever since Charlie's death you've been moping. It isn't good for you. If you're ever going to break that curse of yours, you've got to get off your arse and do something about it."

Jack's eyes flashed anger. "Charlie was like a father to me!" he exclaimed. "I've known him since I was twelve… he was my friend." As swiftly as it had come, his anger was leaving him and he was left with only his melancholia.

"You see what I mean?" Red asked. "You're good for nothing when you're like this!"

'What do you suggest I do, then?" Jack's anger had returned.

"I'm setting anchor for Tortuga. I suggest you do some serious thinking while we're there. I won't want to see any moping after that."

"Will that be all?" Jack asked, anger still obvious in his voice.

Red sighed. "You're angry at me. Your friend just died, and you think you have the right to mope about it. But life doesn't just stop when we're grieving, Jack. You ought to learn that."

-

When they docked in Tortuga, Jack went to see his father, who made good use of the opportunity to remind Jack of the curse. Jack got irritated with him and left more determined to break the curse then ever.

Due to Red's influence warring with his instinct to mope, Jack developed an interesting way of dealing with grief. He never really got over Charlie's death, and poured all his leftover emotions into his hat, which he soon grew to treasure.

And that, dear readers, is the story of why Jack Sparrow is so bloody fond of his hat.

-

I know this chapter didn't further the plot much, but I liked the idea, and it does explain the hat. In the next chapter, we will get into events that you will recognize, and meet a few characters that are not OCs. I'll try to upload when I get back from vacation.