Anne slipped up beside her uncle and the Commodore, her eyes fixed on the slim figure making his way up the steps of the gallows.
"Ah, Anne, there you are," said Norrington absently, "I was beginning to think you had gotten lost."
"I wouldn't be surprised if she had," rejoined Gillette in a high nervous voice, "she has seen little else of the fort except the gaol for the last few days. I'd be amazed if she had known there was a square here had you asked her yesterday." He laughed shrilly, ignoring the scathing glances of his superior officer and his young niece.
"Indeed," muttered the Admiral. On the podium an elderly man had begun to read off the list of Jack's crimes: theft, assault of officers of the British navy, piracy, impersonating various people of status including officers and members of the clergy and many more, it seemed as though they would all die of old age before the list was complete. As the old man spoke Anne looked around carefully, counting the guards.
The drums began to beat as the official finished his list. Anne began to fan herself against the uncomfortable heat. Her breathing became irregular and she leant on the Commodore's arm for support.
"Is something wrong Anne?" asked her uncle.
"I... I feel... faint. I feel faint!" A frown passed across the elderly Admiral's handsome face and was quickly replaced by a grim smile. "Anne," he began but he did not get a chance to finish as she dropped, pulling the light frame of Gillette with her.
The drums stopped but Anne, apparently recovering rather quickly from her faint was already on her way towards the gallows, skirts flying. There Jack had succeeded in kicking the hangman squarely between the legs just as the drummers finished their roll. He ducked three guards as they careered towards him and took a running dive from the gallows and landed heavily with a grunt of pain. Anne was already beside him, slicing his bonds with the sword she had removed from the Commodore. Together they charged through the crowd, under the arch, across the flat to the alcove where the bell hung and looked down to see... and empty sea.
"I thought you paid for a boat!" Jack shouted.
"I did, the stupid sod must have drunk the money and forgotten." Anne's tone was desperate as they turned to try and go back the way they had come only to come face to face with Gillette and his men who surrounded them.
"This," Jack muttered from the corner of his mouth, "would be an opportune moment to panic." They looked into the grim faces of the soldiers and their leader. Gillette looked as though he were about to say something when Norrington appeared, a face like thunder.
"Lower your weapons!" he commanded. Gillette's men complied. There was a tense silence and Sparrow, appearing from behind Anne's shoulder began to chuckle dryly.
"I'm too old for all this," he said, turning to Norrington, "you and me both. This scene is somewhat familiar, don't you think Admiral?" Norrington suppressed a smile.
"Indeed Captain. Interesting how history repeats itself." As he spoke Jack moved forward until he was face to face with his old adversary and friend.
"But we both know it's not going to," he said, his voice just audible over the noise of the sea, the remains of a faint smile playing on his weather worn face. "Not now. No more Pearl to save me. No more Gibbs or Anna-Maria. No more Cotton, not even a bloody parrot. Just...," he waved a hand in the general direction of the horizon, "... her."
"Yes." replied Norrington, his face solemn.
"That's how the story ends." said Jack softly.
"The Legend of Captain Jack Sparrow?"
Jack chuckled again. "Always thought that had a nice ring to it. But you know what the problem with legends is?" he tapped the Admiral's shoulder conspiratorially. "All the people in 'em are dead."
"I understand it's often the case." The two men stared at each other in silence.
"Jack?" Anne murmured uncertainly. He blinked and seemed to come out of a trance. With amazing agility he bounded to the edge of the cliff and stood facing them. He cocked his head in thought while looking at Anne.
"You should have had a hat with a feather in," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "Remember me to your father. Tell him... tell him I always thought he was a good man." Then he straightened and called out across the fort.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I trust you will always remember this as the day..." he stopped and smiled. "Oh, he knows what I mean." he added, waving a hand at Norrington. Then he turned his back on them all. Face to the wind, arms raised above his head. The gentle breeze made the beads in his hair tinkle. He stood there for a moment that lasted an eternity and then he was gone.
It was not a fall but a flight. As he plummeted towards the water Jack Sparrow spread his wings, feeling as light and free as his name. A sparrow shouldn't die in a cage. And then the sea, the one mistress to whom he had always been faithful, opened her arms and welcomed him home.
The people on the cliff stared in disbelief.
"I'll send some men down to fetch the body." said the Commodore.
"You'll do no such thing," replied Norrington, breaking his silence. He looked carefully at Anne as he spoke. "Sparrow belonged of the sea, let him remain there."
EPILOGUE
William Turner received a letter in the early spring from his daughter. This was her second since leaving for the Caribbean, the first had told of how much she was enjoying her stay there and came with the best wishes of James as well as her own. As he opened it he hoped for something in the same strain and had been looking forward to reading it since it had arrived at breakfast that morning. However the letter was brief, it read:
Dear father,
It is my duty to inform you of the death of Captain Jack Sparrow, a man you once counted as a friend. He took his own life, leaping from the cliff into the bay of Port Royal after a failed attempt at escape from the gallows in which I was his accomplice. Please note that I am in no trouble as uncle James was able to smooth things over with Commodore Gillette.
Captain Sparrow need not have taken this action but that he seemed to think it his time to go. Beforehand he was good enough to tell me of the events which lead to our leaving the Caribbean when I was a child but discussion of that can wait until I return home. It may be of interest to you to know that he bore you no ill for your accusation and indeed asked me to relay to you that he had always thought you a good man.
Yours, as ever, Anne.
Will put down the letter and placed his head in his hands. When he looked up there were tears in his eyes. He gazed at the portrait of his dear wife which hung over the fireplace. She looked back at him blankly.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. He put his head back in his hands. "Oh Jack, I'm so very sorry."
THE END
