Book Four - Chapter Thirteen: The Missing Years
It was most unexpected that Jack stumbled upon a bottle that was cast aside on the island. The contents were still full. It was a sign. A sign that Jack would have one last good moment before heaven knows how many moments of torment. He plopped himself down on the ground where he found the bottle and pulled the cork. As his bottom hit the ground, Jack felt the sand beneath him give way to a slight bounce. It was unusual. Jack scooted a little, testing the firmness of the ground beneath him. As he moved he uncovered a bit of rope with his foot. Curious, Jack pulled it. The rope was attached to a metal ring. The metal ring was attached to a wooden plank. Jack stood up and pulled the rope once again. The plank lifted.
"That's not natural," Jack said to himself. He looked at the door and the small cache which the door had hidden. He stepped down. Things were looking up.
Three days of drinking rum and watching the sunrise and set, then a ship came. The rumrunners were shocked to find the castaway, but in exchange for silence, they agreed to take him aboard and drop him off at the next port. The problem was that Jack literally had nothing now. He had no money, no ship, and no one to trust. He had the compass which meant that he had a direction. The gold was a lost cause now, just as Tia Dalma had predicted. That being the case, he had nothing left to lose in trying to find the girl now.
Jack had no choice but to beg, borrow and steal his way around. The debts he created for himself grew monumentally. Any bonds Jack was able to make were quickly severed when he disappeared with no trace of being able to pay back his debts. As if there weren't enough barriers set against him, Jack began to find himself in and out of custody with every turn he made. He was arrested four times by royal officers, six times by debtors, and three times by an angry mob. Needless to say, he was not making the best time.
As he checked his compass, Jack noticed the destination changed gradually. It gave Jack hope. It meant that Amelia was alive and she was on the move.
It was not long before Jack began to feel that he was on the right trail. Rumours about a phantom ship with black sails began to spread like a wildfire. A great man, they said, by the name of Feersen, had his whole fleet destroyed. All that once powerful man had worked for was nothing but ash, much like the man's own state currently. On one hand Jack was pleased with the news. On the other, he feared that a reaction that strong meant something was amiss.
The longer Jack followed his compass, the more rumours he heard. His ship was gaining fame. Jack, however, was gaining nothing. Being in prisons, in the stocks, walking to the gallows, running on the loose, jumping ships, stealing horses, and walking long and dreary miles by foot, made this a never-ending journey for Jack. Seasons passed though it all seemed one big blur of time as far as he was concerned. He hadn't counted the days for months. The days didn't matter.
Finally, Jack made it north-east. He knew that he was close because the name Crestcastle had become more and more familiar to the general public. There were rumours of a girl, the Colonel's step-daughter, though none of them bore her name kindly. From what Jack had gathered, someone had succeeded in returning Amelia to her mother. He couldn't have known whether or not to attribute it to Bimbly's plan or Barbossa's secondary coordinates. It didn't matter. She was safe.
On Jack followed his compass, trying to stay out of irons in fear of delaying himself further when he knew that he was so close. Time turned against the captain once again. His direction changed again. Amelia was heading west. Jack followed dutifully. Soon there was a new rumour. A marriage. Colonel Crestcastle's terribly prominent eldest son, the Lord Gerald Crestcastle, was to commit himself to taking on his step-mother's daughter. It was a scandal in numerous respects. While many shouted incest at the thought of a union, others figured it was the only way to confine the young woman.
Amelia's mother had been most obliging to create her daughter an all too familiar history. Amelia, it was said, had married a young sailor while attending her Aunt. The sailor had died at sea leaving the poor girl with nothing. Her Aunt thought it best to coordinate the alternative marriage. Gerald had no desire for marriage or a family. He was at heart a politician, governed by a military frame. Incest would be nothing to fear. He felt no desire towards the young woman. In his mind he was sacrificing his name, his money, and his dignity for charity. Those who looked at the situation with his mind's eye sympathised with the man. Gerald was merely picking up the pieces that his father had left unattended to when Mrs. Victoria Barbossa became his step-mother. It was an illogical move on his father's part. Rather than let these women ruin the family name any further, Amelia would be kept close by.
Jack's journey had more purpose now. Nothing would stop him from getting to her and putting a hole in this Lord Gerald Crestcastle's thick head.
The compass didn't fail him. He arrived at a farming town in the south of a growing collection of communities calling itself Louisiana. The Crestcastle estate wasn't hard to find, it was the largest plantation in the town. People were everywhere. The whole of the grounds were festive. It was the day that Jack feared most. By the looks of things, he was too late.
The wedding party was still outside where the ceremony was apparently held. Jack hid behind a tree and watched. His eyes landed immediately on the bridegroom. Jack pulled out his pistol and aimed. He had a clear shot. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something moving. Jack looked to the side to see what was there. He half expected it to be some form of guard that had seen him creeping around the estate. Jack let out a sigh of aggravation when he saw that it was only a small child. A young boy, his dress clothes were dirty from playing outside. The boy stood there looking up at Jack quizzically. His presence made Jack uncomfortable and so he tried to shoo the child away so that he could shoot Lord Crestcastle undisturbed. The boy was unmoved until a voice in the distance called out.
"Tristan," the voice called sweetly. "Tristan, love, where are you?"
The boy turned to look behind him. Jack looked too. His breath was taken from him in that moment. There she stood, beside her new husband. Amelia had never looked more beautiful than she did there standing in white. She looked happy.
"Tristan," she called out again.
The boy looked up at Jack one last time and then turned to run down towards his mother. The realization hit Jack like a lightening bolt. The child could not have yet been two years old. Had Jack really been gone for that long? The more he thought about it, the more he realized the truth. He held out his hand, wishing the boy to the stay, but unable to speak any audible words. The boy ran to his mother and wrapped his arms around her skirt. Amelia bent down and picked the child up lovingly. Jack wanted to reach out to them. The pistol was still in his hand. He could still do it. He could shoot the man, take the girl and the child and be off. But off to where? Jack had nothing. He had no ship, no money of his own, nothing but a trunk-full of warrants for his arrest. She seemed happy here. She had a family to start. A life to live. Jack had nothing to offer her. Nothing to offer his son. This is why he could not save the girl. What had he to save her from? This was the curse. Living without her would be the mark that would haunt him forever. A son who would never know his father. What had Lord Crestcastle done to deserve death? His crime was simply his ability to give Amelia what Jack couldn't. With only a single shot to spare, the blame rested not on the bridegroom but the man who stole everything from Jack. Everything fell into place. Barbossa wanted Amelia out of the sea, off of the ship, and into a proper life. Barbossa wanted the Pearl and he wanted the gold. Barbossa had the crew on the end of a string. Barbossa would die for this. The Black Pearl would be reclaimed. Freedom would be regained.
Jack put his pistol back in its holster. He had no reason to linger here. For what he did to her, Jack didn't deserve to win her back. He opened his compass once again, slowly the arrow changed course. Jack staggered away to follow it.
His luck had not changed. He was on and off ships. In and out of custody. Always too many steps behind the Pearl. His debts climbed. His reputation dropped. His drive, however, was limitless.
Eight years would pass by before Captain Jack Sparrow's wanderings would lead him to his revenge.
End of Book Four