Jack Sparrow groaned and twisted slightly, opening his eyes to find Joshamee Gibbs staring down at him. "Gibbs..?"
"Aye Cap'n, what be ye doin' on the floor like tha'?" the man queried with a somewhat amused expression. Jack was lying on the floor of the Faithful Bride in what appeared to be a very uncomfortable position—on his side with one leg draped over a small keg and his head pillowed on a piece of broken chair. Empty bottles were strewn about the pirate captain and the half-empty one clutched in his fist indicated that they had all previously held rum. The prone man under scrutiny groaned again and brought a hand to his face.
"Ugh, damn Tortuga rum… s'always stronger 'n I'm used to aboard the Pearl…" He mumbled, closing his eyes against the pounding in his head that was made stronger by the daylight. After a moment he peeked out through one cracked eyelid and found Gibbs still standing by him dutifully. "Was it somethin' ye wanted then, Gibbs?"
The crewman nodded sheepishly and Jack's annoyed sigh and half-hearted wave of the hand prompted him to speak. "Well, s'just that 'tis late morning, Captain Sparrow…"
"Aye, what of it? Ye've disturbed me rest t'inform me of the time o' day?"
"Well y'see… The orders ye gave said tha' we were t'make sail on Sunday at high tide…"
"I'll ask ye only one more time, Gibbs: Why're ye bloody wakin' me up to tell me what me own orders are! I also remember tellin' ye that I would be back on Sunday, an' not to bother me afore then!" Jack snapped as loudly as he could without causing his already aching head to explode.
"It is Sunday, Captain."
Jack fell silent for a few moments before making a supreme effort to sit up slightly. His whole body hurt, which was a bit of a mystery until he reasoned that if what Gibbs had said was true, three days was certainly enough time to have been in a few brawls. Apparently the rum from Tortuga was far more potent than he had originally thought, potent enough to have turned the last three days into a rum-soaked haze he couldn't discernibly remember!
"Sunday, ye say?" He asked finally, gazing blearily up at Gibbs who was still standing respectfully by his captain's battered body.
"Aye, Sunday."
"High tide yet?"
"Not for another half hour, though the crew was gettin' a bit antsy when ye hadn't shown yer face."
"Hmm. Ye came lookin' fer me, Gibbs. Why? What of the code?"
Gibbs only smiled crookedly, his hands askance. "Yer the captain, Captain! No pirate's as good as yerself an' the crew respects that!"
Jack Sparrow pondered this for a few moments before looking back up at his mate skeptically. Under the accusing stare, the man shrugged and laughed a bit nervously.
"Well, the fact that yer the one wit the magical compass may have 'ad somethin' to do with things… But the crew do respect ye, Captain!" He finished quickly, and the pirate captain only snorted in satisfaction before holding out a hand to be helped up.
"Bloody pirates," He said simply, receiving a grin from Gibbs as well as a boost to his feet. "S'no matter anyhow, back to the Pearl, mate… I've 'ad enough rum t'last me a lifetime!" The pair began picking their way through the bodies that littered the tavern floor and Gibbs laughed out loud.
"The usual twoscore kegs of rum t'be loaded into yer personal stores then, Captain?"
Captain Jack Sparrow winked and managed to make a somewhat unstable bow. "Aye, that'll about do it."
Once out in the bright Caribbean sunshine, both men winced and shielded their eyes. The street, like the Faithful Bride, was positively paved with all manner of inebriated buccaneers, and they had to watch where they were stepping to avoid falling over the prone bodies. Just as they had reached the dock where the Black Pearl was moored, however, Gibbs happened to glance over at his captain.
"Captain, don't rightly know how to tell ye this… But where's yer hat?"
Jack Sparrow stopped dead in his tracks and patted his head all over, as if perhaps he would find his beloved tri-corne somewhere in his tangled mane of hair. "Oh Bugger," He finally mumbled, a scowl on his face. He turned to go back the way he had come when Gibbs grabbed his arm.
"But Captain, we sail in ten minutes time!" the mate protested, motioning urgently towards the Pearl.
"Not without me hat, Gibbs! Won't be but a moment!" Jack called out, having already begun his frantic, slightly effeminate stumble/run/flail journey back up the dock into the port of now-awakening Tortuga.
Five minutes later found Captain Sparrow once more within the Faithful Bride, and he cast about frantically beneath tables and behind barrels in search of his weather-beaten hat. After a few minutes of fruitless searching, he fell ungracefully to the floor having tripped over a sleeping drunk.
"Bloody pirates," He spat again as the man he had fallen over merely snored loudly and rolled over, but then forgot about his anger as his eyes fell upon a certain article. "Me hat!" Jack picked himself up and sauntered over to the fugitive headpiece. He picked it up, fixed a few dents in it and once again replaced it upon his head at a jaunty angle. Once again complete and satisfied, the captain left the tavern.
He had hardly left the door however, when a female voice not unlike that of Scarlet reached his ears.
"Jack Sparrow!"
"Captain Jack Sparrow, if ye please, Luv," He prompted automatically, turning to see the speaker. A wiry blond woman clad scantily in trademark harlot's garb stepped over a few bodies towards him. "Giselle, darling!"
"The rumors are true then—Ye haven't been killed off yet," She observed with a cold sweep of her eyes over him. It was obvious that she wasn't exactly thrilled about said confirmation.
"Aye, Luv, rest assured! I've come back t'ye lass, safe 'n sound! Funny ol' world, innit?"
"It's a bleedin' miracle ye haven't been strung up—"
"Not at all, dearie. Y'see, it's highly improbable that any of those bumbling Navy cads could get me 'andsome neck in a noose." Jack smiled dashingly and paused for effect before dropping his signature line. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. Savvy?"
Giselle merely rolled her eyes. "Oh, well I haven't come here to bandy words wit the likes o' you, Jack Sparrow," she told him, ignoring his mumbled insistence to be called 'captain,' "I've only come t'give ye back somethin' that ye so kindly gave me last time ye were in port,"
It was then that Jack put his finger on what had seemed amiss about their encounter thus far—she hadn't tried to slap him yet! The reason for this became clear as it finally registered that both hands were otherwise occupied by a cloth bundle. Before he could wonder what it contained, however, she had thrust it into his arms.
"T'was nine months o' hell, Jack Sparrow, hell that I could never repay ye for… But s'pose I'll have t'setttle for ye takin' the thing off me hands. Good luck wit yer newest adventure, Captain!" The blond woman shrilled, and disappeared into the growing crowd before he could say anything at all in reply.
Jack Sparrow stood there stunned for a moment, his hands now full of this odd gift. After a moment of wondering what she had meant about 'nine months of hell that she could never repay him for,' curiosity simply got the better of him. He loaded the thing into the crook of one arm and held the other hand poised above it as he scrutinized the misshapen package. When nothing out of the ordinary happened, the pirate captain tapped the bundle sharply three times with one finger.
"WAHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The noise that erupted from the previously dormant clothes caused Captain Jack to nearly leap out of his skin, and all but drop what had made the noise. Eyes wide in alarm, he used one hand to quickly flick open the corner of the blanket in his arms. His shocked stare was greeted by a gaze as dark as his own. A BABY! The pirate's breath stopped for a moment as two pairs of chocolate eyes took each other in for the first time.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANGGG!
The familiar bell of the Black Pearl shattered his reverie and he jumped again. The small baby started crying again at his movement and at the noise, and Jack's mind began to whirl. The sound of those bells could only mean that the ship was about to depart—and here he was, not onboard and holding a child!
"Oh Bugger," He mumbled again before holding the bundle out in front of him with both hands and staring at it wildly. The brown-haired little girl wailed louder than ever as the bedclothes fell away and she hung in the pirate's rough and unsure grasp.
Realising that his ship was about to leave him behind and that a crowd was beginning to stare at the spectacle of the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow holding a baby, Jack did the only thing he could: He turned on his heel and half stumbled/half ran down towards the docks, the caterwauling child held out at an arms-length as he went.