Little Sparrow
Summary: "Now up is down," was the last thing any of them heard before the rush of water drowned everything else out. Later, waking up on a random, deserted island, they almost immediately notice that something was not right with their Captain. Sparrington, Salazak, Willabeth, maybe others mentioned.
They made port in a small Danish town, Danish only in conception but actually being a freeman's port, mostly known by pirates and privateers and almost never visited by any 'respectable' folk. Finding a crew wouldn't be hard here but that was also why they had to be extremely careful as to whom they let aboard. They most definitely didn't need any mutineers so close to finally setting off for the Shipwreck Cove.
They had no problem making port at the little harbor, although plenty of people had gathered to see the black ship with its unusually black sails, excited and wondrous murmurs greeting the ears of the crew. Seeing as how their Captain was standing at the top of the mainmast and looking over the town from his higher ground while the wind dramatically whipped his hair, coat and sash about, it was no surprise that there was a lot of squealing and laughing children there, pointing with their dirty little fingers while their faces were stretched in awed smiles and their eyes twinkling with curiosity ans wonder. When the Captain finally set foot on land some time later, they clamored around him, tugging at his coat, his hands, his pant legs and asking questions a mile a minute.
It was quite a sight, watching Jack indulge them, even placing a toddler on his shoulders and letting two girls hang off of his arms, showing off his quite well hidden strength. The kids oohed and aahed and cheered when he started telling them stories, his animated gestures more than appreciated by his young audience. The adults and teens, though, were more stunned by his looks and age than by the impossible adventures he was retelling. It was quite a surprise to see such a young Captain on such a magnificent ship as the Black Pearl. It must have been as strange the first time around, when the sails had still been white, the hull brown and lined with gold, when Jack had genuinely been eighteen years old and the new Captain of the Wicked Wench. Except now, his crew could marvel at how strange it was while his old crew had gotten used to it a long time ago. They had first known Jack as a midship man, one of the crew, not her Captain.
When the ship was well secured and Mr Cotton, Tia Dalma and Gillete were left to guard it while the rest got more supplies and tried to hire more crew, they followed Jack as he made his way right into the most popular tavern in the little harbor town, strutting in like he owned the place and little street urchin following him in, trying to imitate his gate and giggling as they did so. Some of the crew tried - unsuccessfully - to smother their grins and smirks, but Sparrow's walk had drawn quite a bit of attention to the pretty teen, greedy eyes on him as he made his way to the bar, got himself a drink and looked around. Seeing all eyes on him even as his crew moved to join and surround him - for all that he was Captain Jack Sparrow, he was currently the youngest one here and so they thought they had to protect him; a habitual reaction towards the young, more than anything else - he smirked into his rum, calculating. They needed provisions and smaller ports had suspicious folk lurking about, paranoid almost. They won't give them a good price for whatever they want to buy unless he gets them to trust them, or at least him as this group's Captain. And no experienced sailor would want to serve under someone so much younger than them. All the men here were almost twice Jack's - current - age and had grim expressions set on their faces.
He surveyed the room, taking each face in and cataloging them in his mind, pondering their usefulness on a ship and whether they had a single trustworthy bone in their bodies. Groups were out of the question. That was practically asking for a mutiny. Two to three ex crew mates tops. No more. Maybe a female pirate, if there was one in the port. But he needed laid back men, not some power hungry idiots who will try to cut his throat in his sleep. He needed able bodied sailors with experience, although a few youngsters might not be all that bad, either. More enthusiastic, wanting to prove themselves hands to quicken the pace. He won't be looking for a cabin boy or a pilot. Between himself, Mr Cotton, Mr Gibbs, Barbossa and the Navy boys, they had more than enough. But he needed a few more gunners and deck hands. It will make the overall sail much easier.
His eyes settled on a large table where he could hear five different languages yelling over each other, their speakers seventeen men in the middle of preparing what looked like a drinking game. The men were all dressed completely differently and were all obviously from different ships or ports, none of them particularly familiar with each other but seeming to get along fine when there were bets, fun and drink. He saw a single chair left unoccupied at the table and his brilliant mind started wiring in contemplation. He saw lemons and salt beside a couple of big, big glass bottles of amber liquid and Jack smiled, excitement pouring off of him in waves. He took his tankard with himself as he boldly sashayed across the room, making way straight for the table, startling the men when he, so young in comparison to the rest of them, sat down to join them.
"Hola, amigos. Mind if I join in on your fine wager?" He asked, not seeing one man's in a corner head snapping up at the sound of his voice, punctuating his point by throwing down a half open pouch of golden coins they'd stolen from Captain Finch and his crew a couple of days ago. He grinned as their eyes bulged with greed at all that glittering gold and was satisfied to see them seizing him up, as though trying to gauge his years, his weight, his drinking experience and the likely round he will get hammered enough to fall out of the game. Jack let them do their little stare thing and pointedly took a long swig from his rum, watching their eyes light up. So they thought him mixing his alcohol will make a difference, eh? Oh, this was going to be as fun as it had been the last time. Those Spaniards never knew what hit them.
"Not at all, mon ami." A man with a fake French accent said as he put a glass in front of Jack while said pirate was eying the wagers already on the table. His was by far the biggest, which meant these men were unemployed and could use some money. Money Jack obviously had.
"Jus' don' go cryin' when you lose," a Chinese man sneered at the youngest player through his chapped lips and toothless mouth. The rest were a bit too busy eying the gold and still trying to decide whether Jack was naive or crazy. Or drunk already. Sparrow gave them a cheerful grin as his crew mates came to try and drag him from the table and the grin was so sharp they stopped halfway through their very first protests. He remained seated while a few of his fellow contestants now looked uneasy.
"I'll be sure to hold your braid out of the way when you start vomiting last week's breakfast, mate."
"Enough trash talk," a leather dressed man with a big cowboy hat, blond hair and blue eyes cut in, pulling out the cork from the bottle and sniffing the contents. It was so strong that Jack could smell it from where he sat across the table. "Time to put your money where your mouth is."
"I agree," a big African man with implants under his skin grunted, thrusting his glass at the cowboy to pour him a drink and he downed it instantly, sucking on a lemon slice, forgoing the salt altogether and slamming his glass upside down to show he was finished. Behind the man, there was a big board with the names of all of the contestants written on it and a boy of twelve hastily put one tick next to then name Ahmed. "Pour the poison, Gary."
Gary gave him a flat look as the black man arched a non-existing eyebrow as he poured it around. The blond looked at the Caribbean Pirate Lord, seated between the China man and the guy with the fake French accent, and he grinned. "What's your name, dead meet?"
"Jack, if you will."
"Well, Jack, welcome aboard the one way train to Hangoverswill." The cowboy said as he finished pouring everyone their drink, each of them taking it down with grimaces at the strength of the drink or a cough. Then they all turned to watch Jack expectantly and Sparrow just grinned at them, swiped a little salt between thumb, pointer and middle fingers, licked them clean, downed his drink and sucked a lemon slice dry within ten seconds all, watching their surprised faces as he neither choked nor grimaced or showed he was in any way affected by the drink. His own companions were wide eyed, especially Will and Elizabeth as they could smell the alcohol from across the room. He met Gary's eyes and smiled.
"Drink up, me hearties, yo ho!"
He didn't notice a pair of eyes trained on him like a hawk.
00000
"I give up," a poor, poor English bastard groaned, green in the face as he watched Jack throw back one more shot of tequila, barely tipsy. Across the table, a Spaniard stood up and ran out of the establishment to throw up, nauseated by the mere sight of alcohol. After watching his sudden movement, a Russian and an Irishman followed suit, barely making it out before they were barding up all the food they had eaten in the last couple of days.
"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!"
"Enough," Ahmed moaned, his head pounding, dizzy, barely able to see straight, as it were. He had finally given in last round and he was watching with awe as Jack signaled another. "If he drinks any more he will die."
"Sea monsters can't kill a guy with his tolerance. Must be one of those damn gods in human flesh, he is." Gary said with grudging admiration as he poured him and the China man, Lee, another drink. And while Sparrow was barely tipsy, only a slight flush to his tan cheeks, eyes still sharp, tongue still eloquent, Lee was already deep in his cups and hiccuping on every third word. He didn't look too good.
Hearing the comment from another table over, the Black Pearl's crew choked on their own beverages while Jack himself just laughed, sucked on some salt, took his shot and sucked the lemon slice it went with. He steadily put his cup back, showing it was empty before winking at Lee. The Chinese pirate was now proudly slurring an ode to rice wine as he took up the cup and poured it bravely into his mouth, swallowing. He put it back down and grinned in victorious pride at Jack before promptly falling over, right out of his chair. He snoozed gently as he used Jack's booted feet as a pillow and Jack signaled for another.
"Really bad eggs," and the first signs of drunkenness in such a slight man after drinking tequila for two hours straight was just a slightly drunken giggle as he observed the seventeen he had drank under the table. The tavern cheered for the teen, many coming over to clap him on the back and to try to take some of his winnings, but Jack still had his wits about him and taking out his gun with a steady hand and a cocked eyebrow dissuaded any further attempts of the latter. Although he was widely propositioned to all kinds of ... pleasurable activity and more gambling challenges as he casually picked up his winnings and hid them in one of his numerous pockets, sipping on the rum he had not touched since he sat down.
Another man turned green and ran straight out, falling into the harbor in his drunken haste.
Jack just giggled again while Gary and Ahmed, the only two who still really had any of their wits around them even though they were well and truly drunk, stared in horror and awe.
"Holly shit. I mean, how does he take it? Where does it all go? Look at him! Your arm is bigger than him!" The blond complained to the African, who swore he was watching some mythical creature instead of a man as Jack finished his tankard of rum and asked for another. "It should all be escaping through his ears by now."
"This is nothing," a voice said slightly behind and to Sparrow's left side and the teen stiffened. James immediately saw this and stood up, only slightly tipsy himself - they had all indulged themselves as they watched Jack drink his fellow competitors into a coma - hand on his sword as he eyed the tall man. He looked and sounded of Spanish origins, as tall as James with short black hair and small blue eyes, his skin only lightly tanned from his time in the sun. He must not have been on a ship in a long, long time. He was about Barbossa's age and held himself like a Navy man, an officer, judging by how he held his hands and how his eyes rowed instead of looking just straight. He was a handsome man and there seemed to be no malice in his eyes or voice or gestures as he put a hand on Jack's shoulder but the pirate was still stiff and uneasy, so James didn't back down. He saw from the corner of his eye the others reaching for their weapons as well before zeroing back in on the Spaniard. "He once drank an entire Spanish galleon under the table and the sea around our ship was a not so appealing green in the morning when he asked for rum. The Capitán forbade drinking contests since." He tsked disapprovingly at Sparrow. "You must stop drinking like this, birdie, before you die of alcohol poisoning. What would Capitán think?"
The Caribbean Pirate Lord was on his feet in a dizzying rush, glaring daggers at the older man, his eyes glassy with something other than drink. "Don't you dare bring up Armando in this!"
The Spaniard didn't look much impressed, although you could see his eyes rowing over Jack's face and body, brows furrowing in confusion. "He would not want you acting like this. Will you dishonor his memory by drinking yourself to your grave, birdie?"
"Enough," it came out almost as a beg this time around and the man's face softened. "Please don't talk about him. It's too soon. It's too soon." James came up next to Jack and drew him away from the Spanish man, but the glare he sent his way had Norrington stiffening and reaching for his sword. "It still hurts too much."
"Why are you still so you, Jack?" The Spaniard pitched his voice lower, leaning closer. "Please do not tell me you were cursed or died so young. The Capitán would be so sad."
"They say I died a year ago and ended up in the Locker." The Pirate Lord said bitterly. "I still don't know how, but I'm apparently de-aged by twenty years, so I don't think I died young."
The Spaniard's eyes narrowed at this, raising a hand towards Sparrow's face but the Captain flinched away. Norrington had a sword at the older man's neck in an instant. He frowned but let his hand fall back down. "Still not good enough."
Jack rolled his eyes but he seemed to have relaxed some. "Oh shut it, Frederico. I'm having enough trouble trying to figure out what's going on without you throwing Armando into it all. I have to get me a few more crew members and then have to sail to Shipwreck Cove and deal with sealed goddesses and scorned women and the Brethren Court and my Da - dear god, I need to speak with Da! Twenty years! Did I even see him once in those twenty years? Does he know I died? No, of course he does. But does he know I'm alive again?" He took hold of his head and groaned, as if in pain. "Bloody hell, my head hurts."
"Jack? Are ye alright?" Gibbs asked as he walked up to his young Captain, keeping a wary eye on Frederico. He put his hands on the teen's shoulders and made to move him away but Frederico had his sword out and pointed at him, but James sliced a think trickle of blood on his neck as a response.
"Aye, the salt's just run its course." The youngest in the pub rubbed at his temples and glared at the three surrounding him. "Frederico, Mr Gibbs is a friend of my family. My Grandmama and my Da would hunt him down if he killed me or let me come to harm. Mr Gibbs, I once sailed on the same ship as Frederico Sanchez. Armando would come back from the dead and hunt him down if he hurt me or let me get hurt. James, bloody leave him be. I don't want to repeat myself." He glared at all three of them at the same time - a miracle, as they had practically made a triangle position around him - until they all stepped down. He grinned and nodded, only to grab hold of his head again. "Ow. Giv' me somethin' salty b'fore me head bursts."
Gibbs gave a relieved laughed at the familiar drawl and Jack, not understanding his sudden need to make so loud a noise when his head was pounding, glared at him petulantly. James just smiled and took the Captain by the elbow, leading him over to the bar to get him some food that would hopefully make him feel a bit better. Frederico watched them go, an arched eyebrow at the way the Englishman was almost fretting over the teen and a small, sad smile crossed his lips.
"Capitán, your little Sparrow will be just fine."
Gibbs, forgotten about by the Spaniard, started, eyes going wide as he finally, finally realized at just what age they had gotten Jack back to.
"Curse of the seven seas," he swore. He was in deep shit once they got back to the Cove.