And here is what James wrote in the book he gave Elizabeth... back story!!! I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you don't mind reading it!
Disclaimer: Much to my annoyance, I STILL don't own "Pirates"...
10. Tales Told: England
Elizabeth – I suppose there is no need to tell you who is writing and why, but as a creature of habit, I feel bound to introduce myself before anything else. I do hope I don't bore you with everything I have to say, but I do not feel that you will truly be able to forgive me for all the mistakes I have made in the past unless you fully understand me. I therefore beg you to at least hear me out.
I was born in Dover, Kent, England, a mysterious land of mist and fog that I have almost forgotten in the Caribbean sun. I do not remember much of my early childhood, but I do remember my mother sitting in her garden, surrounded by the murmur of the fountain and the sweet scent of the roses. It seemed to me that she was always there, waiting for my father to return home from sea. My father was a captain in the Royal Navy when I was born. He was promoted to commodore when I was three, the same year my sister Virginia was born. By then I already had dreams of being just like my father – he seemed to have a sort of otherworldly presence simply because of the authority he seemed to exude. Looking back, I see now that this was quite foolish of me, as he was after all simply a man, and yet I still can't deny that in his own taciturn way he demanded respect from everyone he met. He was a quiet but strong man who always told me that above my life and my happiness, I had to defend my country, and protect my honor. My mother was always so proud of him, and I was quite fond of her; perhaps it was a childish desire to make her just as proud of me that made me so eager to join the Navy.
As a boy, I went to school like any other child my age. School bored me terribly – my mind was always on the sea – but I somehow managed to do well in all the classic subjects – French, Latin, maths, writing. Although my mother wanted me to go into law, my father saw early on that my real interest was in sailing and began teaching me how to use a sword when I was only six. He decided I should go into the navy when I was sixteen, and thought to train me by himself until then. I became very good with a sword very quickly; I began teaching my sister so I would have someone to practice with, and she mastered whatever material I taught her even more quickly than I. Of course, I had to teach her in secret – my mother would have been horrified if she had known that I was teaching her ladylike little Ginny how to fight. (I suppose you are probably rather surprised to know that I was at one point quite a rebel, that I wasn't always as stuffy and proper as I was when you met me.) Nonetheless, I couldn't resist teaching her, for my own benefit, and also because Ginny was much like you in that she was always in search of adventure and never liked the idea of being confined her whole life.
But her life was far too short. When I was nine, my mother and sister both caught consumption. My father decided it would be best to send them to France for the fresh air, but during the crossing to Calais, both of their conditions worsened. My mother, who had never been terribly strong, died on the first night of the voyage. Ginny, who adored Mum, got much worse after that, and was gone by the next morning. I was heartbroken. My father, in turn, locked himself in his room for a good month, refusing to talk to anyone. When he finally emerged, he had changed completely. Although he had always been a serious man, he had at one point enjoyed a good joke or an occasional drink with his friends. Now he never laughed, and slapped me if I ever so much as smiled. 'To become an officer, you must be completely emotionless, even in the face of death!' he would snap at me. I suppose I eventually forgot how to smile and laugh. My father also became very religious, quite puritanical, actually; he no longer smoked or drank, and from then on any step I took out of line became a reason to give me a harsh beating. I think he believed that the disease had taken my mother and sister because of all the sin in the world. And that's when he became obsessed with catching pirates. He called them the vermin of the world, and had me absolutely convinced that it was because of their cruel deeds my mother and sister had died. He would sail off for months at a time, charging about the Mediterranean after pirates; he became renowned for his bravery, but he never seemed to notice the praise heaped on him, always too fixated on getting his revenge.
I, on the other hand, threw myself into mastering the blade. Swordplay became my obsession; naval strategy was my only joy in life. My father was always very hard on me, but I knew he always had my best interests at heart, and his criticisms only made me work harder and improve more quickly. As I still idolized my father, I soon adopted his fanaticism with wiping out pirates, and used to imagine him dashing about the oceans in his fine ship, cutting down dirty, cruel pirates as he went. I swore to myself that I would one day be just like him, the scourge of piracy on the seven seas, a name to be feared by every pirate alive, and one day I would wipe them all out and finally have taken revenge for the deaths of my mother and sister. I do not remember how many years later it was when I realized that it could not be the fault of the pirates that my mother and sister were dead, but by then I had other reasons to hate pirates.