Pirates of the Caribbean Oneshots

Island Conversations

The midday sun was mercilessly scorching the white sand of the tiny island that was currently inhabited by two very frustrated people.

"But you're Captain Jack Sparrow! You vanished from under the eyes of seven agents of the East India Company! You sacked Nassau port without even firing a shot! Are you the-" Elizabeth cut her frustrated speech short, turning to fix Jack with a look that was somewhere between confusion and curiosity.

"What?" He said, thrown off by her sudden silence and intense look.

"Sparrow isn't your last name. It can't be."

"Why not?" Jack was examining the emerald ring on his forefinger, resting in the shadow of a palm tree.

"Because," Elizabeth's bare feet left footprints in the sand at the water's edge as she came back up to where he was standing, "there were Sparrow's in London where I grew up, and they're very wealthy people. It's a very old aristocratic name, with an awful lot of power and influence. And if there had been a bastard child born into the family, it would have been talked about for years. There isn't a Jack Sparrow in that family, so it can't be your last name."

Jack looked at Elizabeth as she came to sit beside him. He opened his mouth but she was still talking.

"Unless you were born there and sent away, or ran away because your father hated you and-" she paused briefly. "Did you even know who your mother was? Why did you choose piracy instead of a proper job?"

He sat upright from his previous reclined position, back now resting against the tree trunk. His gaze rested on her, his expression more serious than she had ever seen as he pulled back the cuffs of his shirt.

"Sparrow is my last name. And yes, it's the same family as the ones you were talking about. My mother is a Sparrow. She came from that family, from the wealth and power and political influence, from a life of luxury on a London estate, with a household of staff tending to her every need as she was the only daughter of a very well-off, powerful governor."

"You weren't...raised like that?" Elizabeth asked in disbelief.

"No, I wasn't raised like that. My father's family are pirates and I was born at sea. My parents are married, Elizabeth. I was born on the ship they got married on, which my mum captains, a lovely old frigate called the Misty Lady. I've spent the majority of my life on a ship, though we have two places in Ireland and Madagascar."

Elizabeth shifted to rest against the same tree as him. "Why piracy?" she prompted as the silence stretched briefly.

Jack sighed, gaze falling on the brand burned into his forearm. "Well, I was raised with it. Then, at twenty, decided I wanted a change of career. I wanted to sail legitimately, so I joined the East India Trading Company, much to the disapproval of my parents, more so my father. I went anyway, and I hated it, but was very good at it. Ended up captaining a cargo galleon called the Wicked Wench."

He reached for the bottle of rum laying in the sand beside him, taking a long drink. "When I joined, I had one condition: I would not transport slaves. Cutler Beckett agreed, and for just over five years, the Wench's haulage was tea and spices and linens, entirely ordinary cargo."

Elizabeth watched him carefully, noticing his eyes darkening as he drank again. "I was told to go to the Bahamas, and not provided a cargo inventory. I didn't realise until I was a good fortnight or more out of port that I hadn't been given one. One of the crew reported having "trouble" with the "cargo", so I went down to the hold to see what was going on."

Jack twisted the emerald ring on his forefinger while he spoke. "One hundred slaves," he said quietly, voice hardening with anger. "One hundred people, crammed in the cargo hold of my ship, in shackles and chains like criminals. Starved and sick and terrified, lying in their own waste, in conditions most people wouldn't let animals live in."

He finished off the bottle of rum and she silently offered him another. Opening it, he continued. "I freed them, took them to somewhere Beckett would never find them, gave them a chance at life. Then I returned to London and confronted Beckett. He branded me a pirate and shot me twice before setting the ship on fire with me still aboard."

"How on earth did you survive?"

"Made a deal," Jack replied casually.
"The Wicked Wench was restored as part of the deal, though permanently scorched black, which signalled her change of career and prompted a renaming."

Elizabeth inhaled sharply as realisation struck. "The Black Pearl. You were branded a pirate for setting slaves free?"

"Yes. Beckett branded me after I freed slaves. Have I satisfied your curiosity yet?"

"Mostly. What's your father's name?"

Jack took a drink. "Not telling you that."

"You said something about spending time in Ireland and Madagascar, which are two very strange places when mentioned in the same sentence, how did you end up in both?"

"My father is Irish, and he also has a house in Madagascar, inherited it from a mentor, so I was raised between the two depending on where my parents wanted or needed to be."

After a minute, he rose to his feet and disappeared out of her view, returning after a short while. "So, I'm half English aristocracy, half Irish pirating family, if you go by my parents backgrounds, raised between Ireland, Madagascar, Shipwreck Cove and the sea, then joined the EITC. Freed slaves, got branded over it and returned to piracy, which has been my career path since. Still not tellin' you my father's name. Anything else?"

Sitting back down, he turned to her awaiting a reply. She thought for a minute.

"Do you have anyone?"

"Romantically?" Jack raised a brow.

Elizabeth nodded, pulling at the hem of her shift as she settled herself more comfortably in the sand. She tucked hair behind her ear, awaiting his reply.

He sighed, falling quiet for a while.
"No, not anymore. Did have, years ago, but it...ended badly, and I've never looked for anything long-term since."

"What was her name?"

Again, Jack was quiet before he replied. "Esmerelda DeSantos. Spanish father, raised mostly in Spain, couple of years older than me. In retrospect, a bad relationship, but I was naive and in love and blind to how badly I was treated until after it ended."

Curious, she opened her mouth again, then closed it, realising from his tone that Jack clearly didn't want to talk any more about it.

They were silent for a while, drinking and building a fire. The light was fading rapidly, Jack now stretched out on the sand again. "Fair warnin' Lizzie," he murmured, a slur to his words now, "you tell anyone my personal information, and I'll make Captain Barbossa look very pleasant."

The threat was still hanging in the cooling air when his low snores sounded, signalling the beginning of a drunken stupor. Elizabeth sat for some time, pondering everything she now knew about him. "There's certainly more to Captain Jack Sparrow than meets the eye," she murmured, before rising to put her plan to get them rescued from the island into action.