Summary: Indebted to a murderous pirate, Captain Jack Sparrow goes in search of his father's ancient treasure trove: home to more than thirty years of plundering.
Rating: PG-13 for violence, language, substance abuse, an sexual situations.
Timeline: A sequel of sorts, one that will predate the film coming out on July 7th of next year.
Disclaimer: The characters and concepts in this story are the property of Disney. This is an amateur writing effort meant for entertainment purposes only.
Note: Title is subject to change. Any suggestions would be nice.
Not a Mary-Sue. I so much as read one review with those words in it and your ass is mine. You will make me naked for a day, but I will strip you for all eternity, savvy? If you bloody bastards wanna start a battle of wits I've got you beaten my default. Go get attention from someone who cares.
That's the last I'm gonna say of it. Good day, dames and gents, and enjoy.
Pirates of the Caribbean 2
Chapter One: The Black Spot
A pair of nine-year-old eyes stared out through the cracks in the floor at his mother pacing restlessly above. For over an hour, they had been watching the woman from such a position after she had ushered both he and their female ward down below and out of sight.
"Out of the way, Jack, I want to see," the tiny girl whispered and tried to push him out of the way. He turned his sights on her, eyes narrowed in frustration and fear before lifting his finger in the air to silence her. Though he had only seen their father utilize such a tactic effectively, the younger child silenced immediately, but not so much from Jack's actions. Rather, the front door to their small home had just been thrown open and shouts and screams were filtering in from outside.
Their mother didn't scream. She didn't beg and didn't cry. Not even as two men entered and snatched her by the arms gruffly. Unconsciously, she attempted to escape, and was rewarded for her efforts with a swift upper cut to the jaw. She fell back into the waiting arms of another man who had seemingly come from nowhere and was not joining in the scuffle of binding the woman.
It took only seconds to subdue her and lead her out of the house.
Jack lowered his eyes and headed for the trap door. The girl went after him.
"Where are you going?" she hissed. "She told us to stay…"
"Shut it, Morgan," he snapped. "Now listen to me: you stay here and you stay quiet. I'm going to see what's going on."
"I said shut it," he snapped again, irritated with her incompetence. She was just barely four after all. "You stay here, alright? I'll be back for you."
"What if they come back?" she said with tears in her eyes. "What if they take me too Jack?"
Morgan had started to cry. Her choked sobs radiated upwards into the house and potentially into the waiting ears of other villagers still hanging about the house. Jack scampered over hurriedly and clapped a hand over her mouth. However, the hostility he showed only served to exacerbate the poor girl's symptoms. Sighing, he released her, attempting to remember the words to the song their mother always sung to them.
"Carry me out to the wide open space," he began, rushing it along so she would calm herself, "Where the sun and the moon show their beauty and grace. Summon me back to the tall cresting waves, my Lord and my freedom, my kingdom…"
"The sea," she finished with him, wiping her tears away. "You think she's dead, don't you?"
He went still for a time, unsure of what to tell her. Then, with a small and shaky nod, he confirmed his fears. "Yes, Morgan, I think she's dead. But I've got to go check, so stay right here and I'll be back, alright?"
She nodded, just as shakily as he, if not more so. More tears tumbled down her cheeks and Jack was quick to tear a piece of his raggedy clothing and wipe them away. "Count to a hundred and I'll be back."
"You don't know how high that is," she replied. Jack rolled his eyes. Sometimes Morgan was too smart for her own good. Even though their mother taught them equally, Morgan was better at it than he was. Jack could rig ships, cast nets, and find a use for practically anything but could barely count to ten without assistance.
"I know it's high enough," he snapped back. "Start counting. I've got to go."
He headed for the trapdoor again, but Morgan stopped him. "Jack?" she asked.
He groaned and turned. "Yeah?"
"You will be back, won't you?"
"I'll be back, Morgan. I promise ye, I'll be back."
"Captain," a low, lurid voice commanded from nowhere.
Jack Sparrow jerked about , hands moving slowly and limply through the air. "I told you…" he mumbled, still completely asleep. His fingers went up into the air as if he were about to make a profound statement. "I did not sleep with your two sisters."
Tossing a bucket of cold water on him, Ana Maria effectively brought him into the waking world. Jack leapt up onto his feet shakily, hands waving about in the air for some unseen assailant. Hands on her hips and bucket at her feet, the female pirate stared at him, greatly unamused by his performance.
"That, darling, was uncalled for."
"Not entirely," she said. "Rags is here."
"What in the bloody hell do I care about Rags?" he asked, squeezing the water from his dread locks.
"He has news that you need to hear."
Jack rolled his eyes. That would be the day. Rags was a freelance sponge to pirates everywhere. He gathered information on the mainland from a variety of sources – some legitimate, some not so much – and then sold it whenever ships were in port. That day, it happened to be the Black Pearl, fastest ship in the Caribbean, stationed for the past few hours in Tortuga when they lost the wind.
"I'm paying some man to sing songs about who is and isn't after us, savvy?" Jack said with a sigh.
"And normally I'd be agreeing with you, but this time the last of your gold is worth it."
Jack's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "This had better be, love."
He staggered out of the hold, straight up the wooden steps to the deck above.
It was a clear night with a soft breeze, nothing enough to sail by yet but Jack had a feeling it would be back soon. Blue moonlight cascaded from the giant full moon above them, covering the inky black nighttime waters with gleaming starlight.
His crew was standing and sneering at the dirty little man in the center of their circle. Rags was barely five feet tall, a man made mainly of flesh and bone rather than fat or muscle. Having lived at the bottom of the barrel his entire life, he bore the look of a starved corpse. Mousy brown hair hung loosely from his head, falling out even as he stood there staring wide eyed and cocky at the Captain. His head was permanently tilted to one side, courtesy of an abusive father or so some said. Scars lined his face, mementos of previously unsatisfied customers. Alas, such a thing was as Jack said, "Welcome to the Caribbean, love."
"I've only got five pieces for whatever you're selling, Rags, so make it good and make it quick."
Rags was quick to snatch the offered money from the outstretched Captain's hand, chuckling under his breath like a madman. He staggered backward to his original position and deposited the coins into the pouch on his belt before beginning his announcement. "You're a marked man, Jack Sparrow."
The Captain's eyes narrowed. "What are you going on about Rags?"
The smaller man's psychotic laugh followed, interrupted by a loud, long, and wet cough. Ana Maria made a face at the sound of it, as did many other members of the crew, but Jack just stared and waited for Rags to say what he had come to say.
"The illustrious Captain Robert Bateman is seeking payment for the money lent to you on the night of June twenty-second, seventeen eighty…eighty…" Rags faded off, unsure of the exact year in which the Captains had partaken in such a bargain. Jack didn't seem to care one way or another. That day had been long ago, and Rags had already mentioned more than he knew.
"You go back and tell Captain Bateman I will have his money in full in a matter of moments," Jack said, pointing back at port.
"Jack…" Ana Maria whispered from behind him, her voice barely a whisper in an attempt to communicate the one underlying flaw to Jack's seemingly brilliant plan – the crew was completely broke. However, he hushed her by waving a finger unsteadily through the air.
"I'm afraid that this will not suffice, Jack Sparrow. It would seem that the great Captain Bateman has already gone forth to put a bounty on your head."
"If the great Captain Bateman has so much money to throw around as to put a bounty on me, why is it so urgent that I pay him back?" Jack countered, but Rags was already shaking his head, laughing like a loon.
"Money paid means money owed, even though the bounty on your head could pay such a debt twice over," Rags laughed and coughed again, spitting a wad of green saliva onto the deck. That time even Jack had to flinch. "Captain Bateman demands your head as payment now. You're a marked man, Sparrow, wanted by every cut throat in Tortuga now."
Rags walked slowly back to the starboard side of the ship, pushing his way through the hostile crew before turning on a heel and returning back to the middle of the deck. "Oh, and one more thing, Jack Sparrow: Captain Bateman asked that I give you this, regardless of what I was paid."
He tossed a small scroll to the deck of the ship, wrapped in thin leather string and two smooth stones to give it weight. Jack lowered and picked it up, unwrapping it quickly.
In the middle of the frayed parchment was the black spot: the Pirate's death sentence.
Well, be as overly critical as you like. Please review nonetheless :)