A/N: This is just a little oneshot I wrote for a contest at Novice Writers. I've always been an adorer of Jack Sparrow's "Freedom" speech from Curse Of The Black Pearl, I only wish he hand't passed out and could continue to talk. So here it is, Captain Sparrow's musings on freedom and pirates, as I imagine he would tell it. Enjoy!

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Wherever we want to go, we’ll go.
That’s what a ship is, you know.
It’s not just a keel and a hull and a deck and sails,
that’s what a ship needs. But what a ship is,
what The Black Pearl really is...
is freedom.

The taste of freedom on the pearly waters of the Caribbean’ll ne’er be sweeter to any other heart than that of a pirate, love. It’s what we do, it’s who we are. A pirate’s heart belongs to his ship, his spirit woven betwixt the ivory sails, his soul perched ‘pon the yardarms. A pirate be nothin’ but a heartless flop without his ship. Moreover, they say a man condemned to land will vex ‘imself mad if he’s a true sailor at heart.

That’s how I see it. A man who lives and breathes this nuance, that same man’s as much a sailor as I be a pirate. Because freedom, well freedom’s a ship. Just as the sea’s a feisty woman cloaked in blue and burning with the desire to perturb any bullheaded sailor thinking he can tame her. Freedom’s like that, too, and a ship’s the device that’ll take ye on to it. Wherever we want to go, we’ll go. Whate’er we want to do, we’ll do. And that’s what makes a pirate diff’rnt than a sailor, love. A sailor ignores Lady Sea’s tug on ‘is jacket, her invitation to such freedom. A pirate, well he leaps at the chance.

I was once met with entirely unfortunate circumstances that landed me stranded on an island for three weeks - alright, alright, darlin’. Three days. I was stranded on an island for three days. And for that three days I was beside meself, vexed by Lady Sea’s taunting call and no device to take me to her. The Pearl was my freedom, savvy? It’ll always be the key to my freedom. But for those three days I reflected - and had a sip or two o’ rum (I love that stuff) - and I came about to realize how much a man like me needs the sea. Ye can’t explain it to a land-man, that’s impossible and no mistake. But ye can try, eh?

It was somethin’ like being trapped in a bottle clear as day. Ye could see what you wanted, reach for it, but you wouldn’ be able to hold it in yer hand, not for a long shot. But the more ye look at somethin’, the more beautiful it becomes, savvy? And the more beautiful somethin’ becomes, the more precious it seems. The more you want it. An’ I promised meself I wouldn’t only get my Pearl back from the bastard who I’d been mutinied by, but also to taste that treasure like I ne’er have before. An’ I did that. Because freedom isn’t somethin’ you can have when you want it. I learned that.

E’ery man’s a pirate inside somewhere. Maybe even a woman. Scarlet would not exhibit her wares beyond the shores o’ Tortuga and Giselle the same; but Anamaria, dear girl that she is, her heart belongs to the sea. Pirate. Although Gibbs seems to think there’s something in her blood that makes her unwomanly, eh? Otherwise that bad luck ‘e speaks of would follow us everywhere we venture. But digression works its magic, eh? What I’m tryin’ te say is that even a woman feels the sea’s call and occasionally succumbs to it, savvy?

See, pirates aren’t all just beggers and blighters and ne’er-do-well cads (I love that song!), they’re somethin’ more, the lot of ‘em. (Although I won’ speak for me mutinous ex-first mate, Hector) The world’s a mess o’ classes, yaknow, an’ most of ‘em look down on pirates. Ye can’t blame them sometimes, I know, love, but not all pirates should be looked on with such belittlement. See, it’s not all about silver and gold, that’s not what treasure is, as I say on many an occasion. Freedom itself be a treasure, and ye can’t blame a man for having a burning desire to obtain such a treasure. That’s where the line is drawn between a scallywag and a good man.

Now I know o’ a man, a good friend, a good man, by the name of one William Turner. An’ he’s a good man. But he’s also a pirate, and very much in love with a woman much beyond his station. See, he believed what most everybody else believes: a pirate’s a pirate, no matter how you spin it; he’ll always be a pirate, and should always be treated like the scum of the ocean for that. But what Will doesn’t see, he doesn’ see that he’s a pirate too. (At least, it took ‘im a little while to see the light - methinks it’s partly him bein’ round that Commodore friend o’ mine for too long) But he finally came around, and he fig’red it out. What’s treasure to me, freedom; and that’s worth fightin’ for, stealing for. What’s treasure to him, well that same thing came to him in the form of a woman. (Unfortunate circumstances, his being a eunuch and all.)

So what I’m tryin’ to say, love, is that no one man’s the same. But their spirits all long for one thin’ or another, and it doesn’t matter how hard he tries to figure it out, it’ll be no use. Cause his treasure will find him, he’s only gotta be keepin’ his eyes open for it. Sometimes it’s a ship, sometimes it’s a woman, sometimes it’s a puffy white wig and an ugly blue suit as it was for an ol’ Commodore friend of mine...but whatever it is, they’ll fight for it. They’ll do anything for it.

So what freedom is for me, well it’s me treasure. It’s the one thin’ I’ll be fightin’ to obtain for the rest o’ me days. The sea found me, and I say if goes for any seafarin’ man; if yer lookin’ to find out their spirit, their true desire down to the depths of their soul, there’s only one place to look and that’s fine Lady Sea. Cause what freedom is...is their hearts’ desires.