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Every pirate worth their salt has heard of the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow. Heard tales of madding luck and a never-ending love for the sea. I’d wager you can find a scoundrel in every port weaving stories of Captain Sparrow's mighty adventures. I’ve even had the dubious honor of witnessing a few of those feats in person, with me own two eyes.
I’ve served many captains during my time as a slave to the sea goddess, but I’ve never seen one so attuned with his ship like Sparrow was. Nary a twitch of the Pearl’s robust bulk went unaccounted for. Sparrow could read the ocean’s rebellious waves so well it seemed as though the water itself was whispering in his ear.
Along with tales of his burglary, Sparrow also gained a reputation for his exploits in bed. There isn’t a port this side of the sun that doesn’t have some sorry bloke pinning after the Captain, lass and lads alike. I’ve seen for myself how Sparrow can charm pretty things into his bed. All around Captain Jack Sparrow is a right good pirate, but not the best role model when it comes to matchmaking.
I’ve had to give up living my days on a rocking boat with my old age, but I’ve made sure to retire on the foulest, most dangerous island I could find. It’s long past sunset on a warm summer night when I set my eyes on Sparrow for the first time in many years. He’s just walked into my rowdy, old pub and sauntered over to an open table.
The local whores immediately take notice of the new fish, not that I can blame them. Sparrow hasn’t lost his rugged beauty in the last ten years. If anything he’s just become more enticing, the lucky bastard. Jemma, one of my barmaids, idles over to the Captain, flaunting her curvy hips and stunning red hair.
The captain, curiously, doesn’t spare the woman a glance, just murmurs his order and returns to staring at the door. Jemma huffs, annoyed, before marching back to the bar.
“Three mugs of ale for the blind man, Jimmy,” Jemma says snidely, glaring at Sparrow. A hearty chuckle bubbles up my throat. Jemma is not used to being rejected, the beauty that she is.
“That ‘blind man’, as you say, is none other than Captain Jack Sparrow,” I inform her, amused. Her head snaps around, staring at me with wide eyes. When I just nod, laughing under my breath, she turns slowly to access the Captain more thoroughly.
Sparrow does make for a fetching view if I’m being completely honest. His long braided hair is adorned with its usual beads and jewelry. Tattoos brand his tan skin and his dark eyes are lined with coal, making them sparkle in the warm light of the candles sitting before him. Even lounging sprawled on a wooden bench, Sparrow manages to exude a magnetic, sexual air around him.
“That’s Jack Sparrow,” Jemma demands dubiously, eyeing me suspiciously. I’m not surprised she didn’t clock the presence of a predator the minute Sparrow walked in. Not much use for such instincts when you make your living serving rum and the Captain has always been able to blend in when he so desires.
“Captain Jack Sparrow,” I correct absently, watching him curiously.
“I’ve always heard he never turns down a warm body,” Jemma remarks, more confused than annoyed this time.
“Well maybe he’s already found himself a partner for the night,” I offer, trying to soothe the woman’s hurt pride. The pub doors open again and two people stroll in. Sparrow practically lights up at the sight of them, a besotted grin splitting his lips. Or two partners, I mentally correct, watching Sparrow stand to greet them.
The man and woman search the chaos of my pub, looking for something, before their eyes land on the Captain. Sparrow waves them over, grinning a hungry, shark-like grin. They amble over, the woman leading with one of her hands grasping the man’s.
They make a stunning couple, their alluring looks draw attention from all across the pub. The man, still a lad really, has earnest, boyish features. He stands several feet taller than the lass. His skin is sun-kissed, a burgundy color that draws the eye to his high cheekbones and playful amber eyes. A loose, white shirt barely hides his toned chest and a gleaming, silver sword hangs from his hip. There’s a gold charm dangling from his ear and a black tattoo peeks out from under his shirt.
The lass, on the other hand, possesses beautiful, piercing looks. An enticing rose blush paints her cheeks, the result of many hours spent under the sun. A ruby-red dress hugs her striking figure, and a set of wicked-looking daggers are strapped to her thighs. Electric, blue eyes gaze out from beneath long, pretty lashes, and the smirk on her pouty lips belays the danger lurking in her bones. She strides across the pub with confident, sure steps that somehow compliment her companion’s excited bouncing perfectly.
“Jack!” The lad exclaims happily, prancing up to the pirate. Sparrow’s smirk softens in the face of the lad’s joy and he greets the young man with a sweet, passionate kiss. The lad melts into the Captain, sinking into the kiss with great enthusiasm. Sparrow tangles his fingers in the lad’s soft, brown hair and pulls him closer. The lass sidesteps the kissing couple and commandeers one of the chairs at Sparrow’s table, gracefully sitting down. Jack releases the lad, who steals one more kiss before flopping onto the nearest chair.
“Elizabeth,” Sparrow greets coyly, gazing at her with heated eyes. The lass, Elizabeth it seems, simply raises an eyebrow in response, smirking at the Captain.
“Jack,” she says in return, dipping her head slightly. They stare at each other for a moment, eyes locked and gazes intense, before Elizabeth stands smoothly, grips the front of Sparrow’s shirt, and pulls him in for a kiss. She fits her teeth over his lower lip, sucking it firmly into her mouth. They share a kiss very different from the one Sparrow exchanged with the lad. They push and pull, bite and suck. Hair is snagged tightly, skinned nipped at, and for all the extra it is no less intense than the previous kiss.
“Will, darling, you’re drooling,” Elizabeth teases lightly as she slinks away from the Captain, both of them panting slightly. The lad, Will, was indeed drooling. He’s perched on his chair, head snapping between the two with wide eyes. He shrugs unrepentantly at having been caught, snagging one of Elizabeth’s hands to press light kisses along her knuckles.
“You can’t blame the lad, Lizzie,” Sparrow sings, his eyes sparkling. “We do make quite the picture.”
“What can I say,” Will drawls, sighing dreamily. “I’m one lucky guy.”
They're far enough away, and the pub too noisy, to catch what they say next, but the continuous physical contact and seductive gazes fill in the blanks well enough. I send Jemma off to their table with their drinks. It's best to avoid the brawl depriving Captain Jack Sparrow of his alcohol will cause, in my experience. Jemma comes back giggling and blushing madly, so I can safely assume the Captain and his companions are no less shy about expressing their love when a closer audience is about.
I have a bar to run, though, and I must focus on keeping the deaths, sex, and bribes conducted in my bar to a minimum, juicy gossip about the world’s most famous pirate aside. So besides the occasional bout of infatuated laughter, Sparrow and his lovers are pushed out of mind.
It isn’t until a gang of loud, burly men crowd into my pub that the going gets interesting again. Sparrow’s group migrated to a table sheltered in a dark corner sometime during the night, so the new arrivals don’t spot them immediately. Will is cuddled up to Sparrow's chest, his legs on either side of the Captain’s chair with Elizabeth’s feet resting comfortably on his lap. Sparrow is gesturing wildly, narrating what has to be a spectacular story. Elizabeth watches him with a fond, indulgent look in her eyes, nursing a bottle of rum that she shares occasionally with Will.
It’s the lass that spots the men first, alerting her partners with a single look as she removes her legs from the lad’s lap. Will slinks off the Captain, disappearing into the shadows behind their table so thoroughly even I would have trouble pointing him out. Sparrow continues on with his story, the crafty glint in his eye the only tell something’s changed.
“Sparrow,” One of the men bellows, pointing at the Captain with a big, meaty finger. The rest of the men turn as well, sneering when they catch sight of Sparrow. The pirate in question waves his hat in a mockery of a greeting and I swear on me mother’s life one of the men actually snarls.
“That’s Captain Sparrow to you, Bo’sun,” Elizabeth drawls haughtily, sneering right back. Bo’sun, the one who spoke before, takes two threatening steps forward before stuttering to a stop at the feel of cool metal pressed against his throat. Will, as silent as the wind, crept up behind the men and has his handsome sword leveled at the black man’s neck. He moved so swiftly, lighter than a feather, that I didn’t realize the lad had stirred until he already had his weapon drawn and ready, his hand held steady.
“Gentleman, how lovely it is to see you again,” Will chirps, all friendly-like as if his blade isn’t gleaming from its place lodged under the big man’s chin. The men shift furiously around Will, but they don’t dare try anything fishy with one of their own threatened so.
“Turner,” Bo’sun growls, glaring at the lad who just smiles sweetly back. The name shakes a few things loose in my dusty, old head. Turner, as in Bootstrap Bill Turner. This must be his boy, William Turner if me memory serves. Sparrow rises fluidly to his feet, smirking all the while.
“Answer me this, my dear mutineers, how are you still alive? Last I remember our dear friend Norrington was going to have you lot hanged,” The Captain questions, peering curiously at the gathered pirates. Mutineers, I haven’t heard that word in many a year. I, of course, came across the rumors that Captain Jack Sparrow had been betrayed. Running a pub with the clientele I get makes rumors hard to evade, but I always ignored the tales of the Black Pearl’s overthrowing. I figured no one would dare double-cross Sparrow, but it seems there is some truth to those rumors after all.
The group assembled before Sparrow and his lovers are a pitiful lot. Torn, dirty clothes. Loose skin and too-thin waists. Some even have open wounds festering in infection. All of them look a pace away from death and yet they glare at the Captain with a hatred that could light fires.
You would think, looking on, that they were the ones betrayed and left to starve on an island, instead of being the unfaithful ones themselves. I recognize a few of the men. Pintel, with his wooden eye, and Ragetti. Both pirates I thought followed the code, a foolish notion it seems. Neither men nor their cohorts will be welcomed in my bar after tonight.
“A couple of Englishmen are not enough to kill us, Sparrow, even if they were enough to hang you,” Bo’sun declares snidely amongst the jeers and catcalls from his peers.
“Almost,” Sparrow exclaims, causing Elizabeth’s eyes to roll and an amused smile to appear on Will’s lips. “Almost is an important part of the sentence.”
“I do recall my inconvenient fainting spell had a rather lot to do with the continued breath in your lungs, my Captain,” Elizabeth observes teasingly, completely ignoring the armed men gathered before her.
“Hey,” Will whines, puppy-dog eyes on full display. His sword doesn’t so much as wobble. “I threw the sword that saved your neck, Jack, I deserve at least half the credit.”
“Of course, my darlings,” Sparrow allows easily, grinning ravishingly at his companions. “Our combined genius saved my life.”
“Enough of this idiocy,” Bo’sun snarls, forgetting the blade at his throat. “It is time for you to die, Jack Sparrow.”
Bo’sun reaches for his sword, but before his fingers can touch the hilt he tumbles to the floor, blood gushing from his slit throat. Will Turner stands over the fallen body, his sword smeared red and the pleasant smile absent from his face.
“That’s Captain Jack Sparrow,” Will remarks, the corners of his mouth twitching up. I knew, of course, that Sparrow doesn’t suffer fools and prefers his bedmates feisty, but Will’s bright laughter and effortless smiles made it too easy to underestimate him. Bo’sun made the same mistake and paid for it with his death.
The rest of Bo’sun’s mutinous crew are frozen, staring at their fallen comrade in shocked disbelief. There’s a moment of stillness, as Bo’sun’s crewmates stare at his body and process the recent happenings, before the guy closest to Will draws his sword with an enraged roar, and charges.
The pirate doesn’t get farther than three paces before a smoking hole appears between his eyes and he falls lifelessly to the ground, a bullet buried in his forehead. Captain Sparrow stands casually, lowering his pistol with a showy twirl, glaring at the dead man all the while. This time the mutinous crew reacts faster, grasping weapons and racing into a fight. It’s twelve against three, and I reach down for my own sword, ready to help the Captain and his beloveds.
By the time I’ve located my weapon and have turned back to the brawl taking place, it becomes suddenly very clear they will not be requiring me presence. Elizabeth is still seated primly on her chair, examining her impeccable nails and just generally ignoring the chaos around her. Occasionally she expertly flings a dagger when someone gets too close, each one landing squarely in the throat. Sparrow is stationed a little behind Elizabeth’s chair, dancing around blades of all kinds, looking for all the world like the swords themselves rebel against the very idea of striking him.
It’s Will Turner, however, that proves to be the biggest threat in this fight. Possibly on the whole damn island. He moves with a swift precision only gained after years of practice. He cuts through man after man, tearing into flesh with a viciousness that is at direct odds with his earlier jovial mood.
The men, though big and muscled, are sickly and losing ground fast to Will’s relentless attacks. Even well-fed and healthy they wouldn’t have stood much of a chance. Will stalks through the bar like a prowling tiger, all lithe grace and coiled muscles. For the first time in years, a shiver of fear wracks down my spine, but I’d be lying if I said this isn’t the most fun I’ve had in weeks.
The brawl is over almost as soon as it starts, Elizabeth stays seated through it all and most of the bar patrons don’t even realize anything of interest is happening. Then again, this was the third fight of the night, even if it was a tad bloodier than the last two.
Sparrow saunters back to their table, dropping a kiss on Elizabeth's head as he prances by. The lass calls Turner’s name softly and it’s like a switch is flipped. From one second to the next, Will transforms from a merciless killer back to the happy-go-lucky lad from before, only his time the freckles dotted across his cheeks are joined by a splash of freshly spilled blood.
I take their next round of drinks over personally this time, Jemma is liable to either flirt herself to death or find herself joining the ranks of Sparrow’s spurned lovers. Best to avoid the pouting fit that would entail, I think. Not to mention I wouldn’t mind speaking to me old Captain. Sparrow catches sight of me first, and for a second he tenses, his head cocked before his eyes light up in recognition.
“Jimbo,” the Captain greets cheerfully, waving me over. Elizabeth has soaked a reasonably clean rag and is using it to gently clean Will’s face. The lad’s eyes snap open at Sparrow’s exclamation, gazing at me curiously, a friendly smile on his lips. The lass, on the other hand, seems to have run out of amiable emotions. Preferring instead to glower at me as I resolutely travel closer, ignoring the dead bodies in my path with practiced ease.
Swallowing a little thickly under her cool gaze, I set the tray holding their drinks down on the table with a heavy thunk. What can I say, I’m not as graceful as I once was. Aging is a real kick in the ass if I do say so myself.
“Jack, do you know this man?” Elizabeth demands, her narrowed eyes focused solely on me.
“I do indeed, Lizzie darling,” Jack confirms, and the lass relaxes a fraction at that. “Old Jimmy here used to be a part of me crew.”
“Really!?” Will exclaims, defying all known laws of gravity and perking up even more. “What was Jack like back then? You must have some good gossip.”
“As a matter of fact-”
“I have to introduce you first,” Sparrow cuts in quickly, waving his arms around in mock outrage. “Honestly, where are your manners?”
Elizabeth smirks slightly, sending me a look that manages to clearly convey she will be hearing any and all stories I have to offer of her Captain’s life before he met them. Sparrow doesn’t seem to notice the look, or ignores it, choosing instead to spring to his feet and gesture dramatically to Elizabeth.
“This is Elizabeth Turner, formally Swan,” Sparrow says, grinning in that way that makes his eyes sparkle. “And this is Will Turner, Elizabeth’s husband.”
“We’re on our honeymoon,” Will informs me brightly, interlocking his fingers with his wife’s.
“In London,” Elizabeth adds, a hint of a smile playing at the edge of her lips.
“The city is simply beautiful this time of year,” Will continues on, winking.
“Well congratulations on your nuptials,” I say, grinning at them. “You’d best be careful on your way home though, I hear pirates hunt in those waters.”
“It’s a wonder you weren’t attacked on your way,” Sparrow agrees, tone solemn and eyes twinkling. “Any pirate worth his salt would snatch you both up in a heartbeat.”
“A real shame that would be,” Will intones, shaking his head sadly. There is a moment of silence before we are all laughing, Elizabeth finally relaxing fully. Some of my other patrons start-up a jaunty sea shanty, and the music immediately catches Will’s attention. He coaxes Elizabeth out of her chair, then bounds away in search of the source of the singing, dragging his wife along after him. Sparrow is watching them with a soft look in his eye when I turn back around, and it’s almost enough to warm even me old, cold heart.
“How on earth did you manage to steal those two, Captain?” I ask after a moment, and I have to hold back a laugh at the besotted look that question garners.
“Well now that is quite the story,” Sparrow begins, motioning for me to sit. The night passes in the blink of an eye as the Captain weaves tails of curses, and duels, and adventure. The sun is shining through my broken windows when they head back out into the streets. Sparrow has Elizabeth tucked under one arm, her head resting on his shoulder as Will bounds off ahead of them. Still a ball of energy even after the long night. I can’t tell you how much of Sparrow’s story is true, but one thing is clear, he did steal the prize in the end. Two beautiful newlyweds that are wild, and caring, and free. Sparrow’s prized treasure.