I feel so – I don't think there's words to do this feeling justice – special. Lucky. Blessed. Not only have my loyal reviewers saved Will from a fate worse than death, they thought a line I wrote was worth remembering! I've been quoted! I'm like a famous person or a dead person or something! Okay, maybe I'm getting a bit carried away with that… Egotism getting a bit out of control…
(many thanks to Nicole E, Lonaargh, shadowicewolf, Llewellyn for 'rescuing' Will and Pebbles1234 for their initial concern for Will's welfare – Will is eternally grateful)
And thus, the return of the said William James Turner, blacksmith turned pirate and too damned handsome for his own good (curse his perfect English/Welsh genes).
Jack wandered the streets, whistling a ditty through his white and occasionally golden teeth. As much as he enjoyed the bustle of the streets, the brimming of ale in the taverns and the beauty of the girls of the streets, he began longingly once again for the adventure and unpredictability to sea had to offer. He strode down the street, passing many bars and taverns, before spinning on his booted heel and turning to face the "Sydie Bar." He regarded it for a moment, and then with hands still in his pockets and whistle still in his mouth, sidestepped to the right about three feet.
Several seconds later, Will Turner crashed bodily through the window, arms flailing wildly, landing directly at Jack's scuffed boots. Jack peered down at him, taking in Will's chaotic tangle of dark hair, rumpled and torn garb and day-old stubble. Will's dark-brown eyes - a tribute to his Welsh ancestors - shot Jack a look that clearly said, 'a little help here?' As Jack offered him a calloused hand and hauled him to his feet, he surmised that Will had seen a rough night. The only thing Jack was unsure of was whether Will had been kept up all night from bad drink, or good company…
"Sorry to spoil your stay lad, but adventure awaits, as it were," said Jack as he pulled Will to his unsteady feet. Will staggered slightly and after checking that nothing seemed broken, brushed the dust and shattered glass off his dishevelled clothes.
"A pity; I think they were just starting to warm up to me." Will remarked sardonically.
They both ducked instinctively they heard a loud crack, and sure enough, a bullet from a musket streaked past them, shattering what glass remained in the bar's front window and showering them with the fragments. Will sighed and shook the glass off his coat, wondering why he bothered even stepping off the Black Pearl in the first place. "Come on, lighten up," Jack had said," Have some fun. What could possibly go wrong with a little harmless drink amongst mates? That was the trouble with Jack; he was so damn persuasive. The other irritating thing about Jack Sparrow was that he was Jack Sparrow. And Jack Sparrow tended to attract trouble like a candle drew in moths. That was the good thing and the bad thing about him. Some days it was most definitely a good thing. Today it was a bad thing.
"Oi, you lot'll be payin' fa that!" Came the proprietor's warning growl as he stuck his bleary whiskered face out the window above their heads, from his living quarters on the second floor.
"I believe it's time to wave bye-bye to your new bosom buddies and alas abscond from this incredibly inviting establishment." Jack replied, untying a horse from the fastening post in front of the bar.
"Funnily enough, that was my plan from the start." Will muttered, following suit.
Of course, I had to choose the slowest horse, Will thought as his urged his steed – more like old nag – to keep up with Jack's. "Seeing as you know how my day's been thus far, how did you fare?" Will asked. Not being much interested in the company of the pub, Will had retired to his sparse quarters upstairs, leaving Jack and his rum downstairs. He had awoken to find no Jack inside or outside the flea-hole that was the tavern. Not surprising. What had been surprising was the short, curly haired women he had woken up face-to-face with.
"Whoops, wrong room." She had giggled, but seemed to make no attempt to find the correct one. Will had shot up in alarm, and was hurriedly attempting to politely shift her outside when a hulking, broad shouldered, bearded man had thrown open the door, seized Will by his collar and the back of his breeches and bodily thrown him out the window. Luckily for Will, the man was the girl's brother, not her betroved or her husband, so the hulk did not require any further vengeance. Except to shoot at them. Due to that debacle, Will suspected that Jack had encountered more luck that night than him.
"I left to pursue a much more decent and comfortable abode." Jack replied airily and vaguely as they rode side by side through the rumbling carriages and galloping horses.
"Which would be?" Will asked, a smile on his face. He was betting Jack went with the raven-haired vixen he had been dancing with the night before.
"My second home; the famously frequented and extremely comfortable local gaol." Jack answered shortly. Will's smile slid from his face.
"A pirates life for us, hey?" He said sympathetically.
"I'm not complaining." Jack said. "It was all peachy until everything went pear-shaped... Ah well; sour grapes for all fruits involved."
Will decided not to try to translate that sentence into intelligent English. Some mysteries were better left unsolved. "Where are we going?" He called to Jack's rapidly diminishing figure, as his own nag begun to lag behind Jack's. Will had a nasty feeling he would be left behind shortly with only his slow, niggling mare for company, while Jack rode off into the horizon in the pursuit of adventure. As usual.
"Sam, the old bosun, has arthritis and has taken leave." Jack called back over his shoulder to Will, "He was also our local weather forecaster with those knees of his… A pity; he could play a good game of Rum Chummy. Stomach of steel. And generally, we'll be needing more crew. It's a long journey, and I want to break a few in. I might even be able to afford a cabin-boy or two…" Sparrow dreamed.
Ahh, thought Will, the epitome of luxury and wealth in pirating circles. The equivalent of servants for the upper-class. He was glad he hadn't hadto start as cabin boy. Lots of cleaning and scrubbing of the entire ship. And on some ships, test-taster of the 'food' the 'cooks' produced. Also, cabin boys were a good source of entertainment and amusement for bored pirates. Get them drunk and they did all sorts of interesting things; staggered around the top-deck like a headless chicken, tangle themselves up in the rigging and backstays, sung rude ditties in an incredibly high and squeaky voice from the Crows Nest…The possibilities were endless. Get two of them and you could pit them together in a make-shift fighting ring, or lather them up with soap and water so they'd slide over the sea-soaked wooden decks, then race them up and down the decks. You lost a few of them overboard though...In short, a cabin boy's life was wrought with danger. But then, so were the lives of most pirates. Murder, betrayal, mutiny and a short life expectancy was sort of in the job description of a pirate. But on the positive side, so was priceless treasure.
The cost of riches came at a price, however. Pirates had to dodge the Royal Navy, other pirating ships in the area and storms and seas that had their own mind about whether ships sailed over the seven seas or under them. Inexperienced pirates also had trouble with the merchant ships they were trying to rob; their 'foolproof' commandeering of the vessel didn't always go exactly to plan. And the problem with not following the plan when you were pirates was that people often ended up dead.
Merchants hated them, ship owners loathed them, the bar and tavern proprietors hated the damage to their properties yet loved the colour of their money, the navy loved to hate them, the general crowd feared them and the whores neither loved them nor hated them. Whores tended to care about little. So it was no surprise that pirates associated with other pirates. Once in the life of piracy - or any crime for that matter - it was hard to turn from. Most pirates were that – common criminals and petty thieves. Some were cold-blooded murderers but most were just out for food and shelter and a chance of a life in luxury. Their loyalty could be bought as often as a coin changed hands and it waxed and waned more often than the moon. Jack would have a tough time trying to find some honourable men amongst the general pirate rabble.
Will shook himself out of his deep reverie, picked up his head and scanned the backs of the horsemen's heads for a sign of Jack's unique three-pointed captain's hat. He got several smiles and glances from the ladies passing in the streets and carriages, but he saw none of Jack's conspicuous clothing, and had no hope of hearing his whistles over the din of the street. He sighed and dismounted from his horse where it stood in the middle of the road; exceedingly glad to be rid of the lagging nag. He slapped its rump and watched in satisfaction as it galloped off into the crowd as if someone had lit a fire-cracker under its tail, upsetting several ladies out for a morning ride through the town. Will stepped calmly off the busy road and onto the sidewalk – which was in all respects just as crowded and bustling - and thought to himself in amusement, that's the fastest the ancient beast has probably ever gone in all its miserable life..
He turned and headed for the direction of the docks. The presence of a pirating ship in the harbour and the story of Jack's obvious gaol escape would have every professional and amateur pirate at the docks by noon, the traditional pirate meeting time for an interview and appraisal, pirate style.
Next instalment – the new crew. Some characters may be re-appearing, hint hint. The Black Pearl returns. The continued adventures on the high seas. There'll be a Naval ball coming up soon that everyone is loathe to attend.