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The Only Rules That Matter (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

"What... what is this, Mr. Lands?" Jack demanded as he came down the deck.

"Our new cargo, Captain Sparrow." The plump solicitor appeared entirely unmoved by the sight before him. "The sugar plantations in Jamaica have a constant need for labor, and the aboriginal inhabitants of the island are entirely unsuited to the task."

"Slaves?" Jack hissed, eyeing the men and women in their shackles. As he watched, one of the black slavers laughed as he beat a smallish black woman. "This is inhuman, Mr. Lands."

Lands shrugged. "They are barely human, Captain Sparrow. Cursed of God, and suited for a life of work and the lash. And they're good profit. The voyage will weed out the weak and sick, and we'll receive between fifty and sixty pounds each for the survivors. A little less for the women and the children, naturally."

Jack's stomach churned. "Survivors?"

"The profits work out to nearly fourty pounds apiece." Lands blinked up at him. "And yes, there's always a certain amount of attrition in the cargo on these runs. But the profits more than make up for it."

Jack stared at him in horror, then turned and looked up at the Wicked Wench. Not all the crew were there, but many of the ones he trusted were. And they looked with sick fascination at the spectacle before them. Gibbs. Ragetti. Even Barbarossa, hard as he was. And all of them were looking back.

Annie needs this money, Jack thought. My family needs this.

He looked back. Blood dripped from the black slaver's cudgel. And in his mind's eye, he could see one of Jenny's favorite Psalms. "They cried out to the LORD in their trouble, and He brought them from their distress. He stilled the storm to a whisper; and the waves of the sea were hushed. Let them give thanks to the LORD for His unfailing love."

"People ain't cargo," he muttered.

"Hmmm?" Lands muttered, glancing back. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear that."

"I said, you bloated sack of suet," Jack snapped, drawing his Toledo-forged blade, "people ain't cargo!"

"What are you doing?" Lands gasped, backing away. "This... this is madness! Mutiny! Piracy!"

"Aye, that it is," Jack laughed, leveling his blade at Lands' throat. He turned to face the Wicked Wench. "And who's with me, lads? Who'd rather be an honest pirate, than a filthy slaver?"

Ragged cheers erupted from the deck.
 
The sunset seemed to reflect the bloody day it had witnessed as it sank to the horizon. The Company's men lay dead. The Wicked Wench had just enough crew left to get her out to the open water, not the least of whom among them were Barbossa, Bootstrap Bill, Ragetti and his uncle Abner Pintel, and Mr. Gibbs. They were all breathing heavily, exhausted, but there was still work to do. Ragetti stepped forward and the bound slaves--who hadn't managed to get very far in the ruckus--flinched when he raised his blade...then cut through the ropes binding them. He worked diligently, cutting loose every man, woman, and child he could. Years ago he'd been pressganged into the royal navy before working for the Company; he knew what it was to be a slave. It wasn't right.

"Should do it," he mumbled once the last of them had been cut free. He looked round to Jack. "Where to, Cap'n? 'Spect a few of the Company's men've gone to the jungle. We're dead once they get back to London."

Barbossa looked to Jack as well. "I know of a place," he suggested tentatively, uncertain whether the captain really meant to turn from Company man to pirate so quickly. He'd seen it happen before, but it was usually a gradual change with a step of mercenary or privateer in between. "Pirates can always find haven in Tortuga. If every town on earth were like that place, no man would feel unwanted." He smiled wryly and watched Jack, waiting for a decision.
 
Had it only been an hour? It felt like it had lasted days. Days of desperate fighting, men with improvised weapons and bare hands against the Company soldiers. Of fighting against the slavers, black and white, that had opposed their actions. And then of putting out the flames that the last of the soldiers had attempted to kindle. And now the Wicked Wench drifted at anchor, smoking and scorched and blackened.

Ragetti finished freeing the slaves. "Should do it," he mumbled once the last of them had been cut free. He looked round to Jack. "Where to, Cap'n? 'Spect a few of the Company's men've gone to the jungle. We're dead once they get back to London."

"That we are, Mr. Ragetti, and no doubt about it." Jack thought, or tried to think. But all he could hear were mocking words. So know this, John Sparrow: you shall live this night...but you shall never return home. And that cat-woman had been right, damn her eyes. He'd be hung as a mutineer, if he ever returned to England. But... how could he not? Jenny... his family...

"I know of a place," Barbarossa grunted.

Jack turned, looking at him. "Oh? Do tell, or d'ye mean to keep us in suspense?"

The larger man eyed him carefully, then gave him a wry smile. "Pirates can always find haven in Tortuga. If every town on earth were like that place, no man would feel unwanted."

"Pirates," Jack echoed. The word was hard in his ears. But, hadn't he already been a pirate? And hadn't he learned that you didn't have to be a murderer and a monster to be a pirate? And... to be honest, what sort of options did he have now? Slowly, he nodded. "Pirates."

"Ahhh," Barbarossa breathed, a gleam in his eyes. "Pirates it be, then." He turned, voice booming out. "D'ye hear that, me brothers? Who'll sail the Wicked Wench under a pirate's flag, under Captain Jack Sparrow?"

"AYE!" roared a score of voices.

"Nay!" Jack - Captain Jack - bellowed, leaping up on a piling. All eyes stared at him, and Barbarossa started to protest. "Ye'll not be sailing the Wicked Wench, for that's a Company ship and we're free men!" Sudden laughter and cheers erupted. "We'll be sailing..." he eyed the ship for a moment, homesick and heartsick. "We'll be sailing the Black Pearl!"

More cheering. Captain Jack's voice rang out above them. "See to the blacks, mates. We've need of a crew, and surely some of them will fly the colors for gold and revenge! And then we raise sail!" His rapier glittered blood red in the light of the setting sun. "For gold! For revenge! For Tortuga!"

"TORTUGA!" his crew roared back. "TORTUGA!"

"Upon the Black Pearl," someone sang, taking up a tune that all of them knew but none recognized, "For Tortuga we sail.
"For gold and for revenge
"Wealthy or dead, the Company we've fled
"We sail for Jack alone."

Laughing wildly, Jack took up the chorus with them.

"Yo ho, all hands
"Hoist the colours high
"Heave ho, thieves and beggars
"Never shall we die!" He lept from the piling. "Now hop to it, me lads!"

"Now some have died
"and some are alive
"and others sail on sea
"with the keys to the cage
"and the Devil to pay
"we lay to Fiddler's Green."

Still singing, the men scattered to their duties. Jack leaned against the piling, staring into the blood-red sea created by the setting sun. "Yo ho, haul together," he whispered. "Hoist the colours high. Heave ho, thieves and beggars."

His eyes misted as he thought of Jenny, of his family, waiting for him in Dover, and his voice turned fierce. "Never shall we die."
 
Tortuga was indeed a city unlike any other. The only time it ever seemed quiet was in the middle of the morning when the drunkards and whores had gone to bed. The smell of stale beer and roasting meat was pervasive and seemed to stick even to Jack's skin. Drunken laughter, gunfire, steel against steel, there didn't seem a single quiet corner in the entire township. The place Barbossa brought Jack to was part inn, part bawdy house, but there didn't seem to be a single place to sleep that didn't house some sort of women for sale and Hector swore it was the finest in town.

"The most beautiful girls, the best dinners...passable drinks. Well, passable in taste anyway; they'll have you sideways in a tick, no doubts about that." Barbossa laughed as he led the way in.

Just as every other place in Tortuga it was noisy, crowded, smoky, and smelly; different in every possible way from the Black Anchor, which was clean and kept respectable clientele. Barbossa was greeted by the barman as an old regular. Nearly as soon as they sat down, two women sidled up to Barbossa while eyeing Jack with curiosity and a wanton look.

"Haven't seen you in a donkey's age!" the young blonde said with a smile and a nudge. " 'Oo's yer friend here?"

"Looks awful lonely, 'e does," agreed her friend in a husky voice. The red woman was somewhat older and seemed more sure of herself, perhaps a mentor to the blonde.

"Cap'n Jack Sparrow, this is Scarlet and Giselle." Barbossa weaved an arm around each of the women as he introduced him. "And anything ya might see as y'like tonight is on me." The women eyed him hungrily, sensing that he might be out of his element.
 
As soon as Jack walked - well, sort of half-swaggered half-stumbled - into the... establishment, he decided it wasn't quite the place he'd want to be. Although, in truth, Tortuga wasn't the sort of place he wanted to be. Oh, sure, it gave his crew a place to sell off their cargo - the trade goods for the slavers, and the silks and spices of a Spanish trader they'd found along the way - but...

Well, it wasn't Dover. But, it and the Pearl were home now.

And then there were the two women. A young blond and an older redhead, and neither of them holding a candle to his Jenny. Barbossa had a possessive arm around each. "Cap'n Jack Sparrow, this is Scarlet and Giselle. And anything ya might see as y'like tonight is on me."

"Right," Jack nodded, glancing about. "Let's start with some drinks, then. Where is the rum?"


January the Second, the Year of our Lord seventeen hundred and ten.

My darling Jenny,

I have no knowledge of what you have heard of my fate, yet. I do not even know if the Company is aware of what I have done. And as this is my first opportunity to write to you after the Ivory Coast, I hope that this letter finds you before any word from them does.

Ivory Coast. A dreadful joke, it seems. For it has another and more honest name. The Slave Coast.

The Company and Mr. Beckett, it seems, deceived me. I was given to understand that I would be ferrying cargo from Dover to the IvorySlave Coast to Jamaica, and then back to Dover. Mr. Beckett deceived me as to the nature of that cargo. For the "cargo" in question were human beings, my love.


The rum still burned down his throat, even after the fifth mug. "...so you see," Jack said, pointing at the middlemost of the three Giselles that swam before his eyes, "that bastard from th'Company lied ta me. To Cap'n... Cap'n..." He hiccoughed. "To Cap'n Jack Sparrow. Tried to play me fer a fool, he did, when only I get to play me fer a fool. An' so... an' so... i took his ship. Took my ship. Took th' Wicked Wench, an' made her th' Black Pearl..."

He blinked in surprise as a foot slid up his calf. "Oh, I bet she's not the only wicked wench you could take, Captain..." Giselle purred.


I was a pirate for a year, Jenny, when I sailed with my father and grandmother after the lord Cavernon was sunk. And there are things I did of which I am not proud, although I attempted t moderate the worst impulses of my shipmates during that year. But I would rather be hanged as a pirate, my love, than live a free man with money from the traffick of slaves in my pocket. I have taken the Wicked Wench as my own, and named it the Black Pearl, and I have fled to the West Indes. I hope that you understand my decision, my love. There is much I would do for our family, but... people are not, should not be cargo. Slavery is an abomination, my love, and I could not have faced our family knowing that I had aided and abetted such a monstrous crime.

I shall try to establish myself in the Colonies, and then send for you. Perhaps it is God's will that we begin a new life, here in the new world.

I love you, my darling. Please do not ever doubt that.

Your husband,
John Sparrow



Jack blinked at Giselle. "Take her where?" he managed, the rum making him foggy.

Scarlet draped an arm around his shoulder, pressing her body up against his. "Anywhere you want, Captain," she breathed in his ear. "And I could help you get into port, hey?"
 
The women had managed to bring Jack up the stairs, giggling and exchanging glances along the way. He hadn't really said yes or anything...but what the hell did men come in here for if not a bit of a tumble? And Barbossa had slipped them both their usual rate and half over while the drunk pirate had been rambling on about mutiny and the lies of the East India Company. He didn't have to tell them that the Company were liars and knaves.

"You just get comfortable, my love," Scarlet said, guiding him to the grungy mattress with thin coverings, "an' we'll bring you that horizon."

Giselle grinned as she sank to her knees, leaning in to pull Jack's trouser's open with her teeth.

~*~

"I'm looking for Jennifer Sparrow, sir, and was told she could be found here." The Company man looked around before spotting a woman perched on a man's knee, laughing and enjoying the drinks he was buying her. "Would that be her, sir?" Because of course a mutineer's wife would be a whore and a drunkard.

"Absolutely not an' ya better watch what you say 'bout my daughter," Michael growled. "Oi you!" he shouted to the woman, "you know the rules!" Ruefully she slid off of the man's knee.

They may have fled Carlow to England, but he'd never forgotten that it was the English who had persecuted them in the first place, and was therefore slow to trust anyone who proudly proclaimed their loyalty to the Crown. Obviously as a Company man this blighter would be no different than the rest of them. God bless John for doing right by his family, but anyone who worked for the Company who wasn't a common sailor was as good as a murderer himself, in Michael's eyes. "Whatever ya got ta say ta her you kin say to me. "

That condescending little thin-lipped smile. "Oh no, sir, I very much doubt that." If Michael were a less godly man it would have been enough to cave his mouth in. "Missus Sparrow, please?"

Michael was about to tell the man to shove off when Jenny came up to the bar looking a bit frazzled. "'Nother round for the ones in the corner, Da."

"Ah! Mrs. Jennifer Sparrow?" The Company man shot Michael a thin, humorless smile before turning to his daughter.

"Aye..." Jenny frowned. "What of?"

"If I could have a word, please?" The man waited as Jenny glanced over at her father, who nodded slightly but still looked mistrustful, before leading her over to an empty table in a somewhat private corner.

~*~

"An' no wonder you was leadin a mutiny, cock this big!" Giselle giggled and turned her eyes up to Jack, a wanton look about her as she slid her hand up and down his length. The liquor made it difficult for most men and she was by now used to helping them on their way. "Bet it's tasty too..." She kept Jack's gaze as she slowly slid her tongue teasingly up his shaft.

~*~

"What happened?" The Company man had left and Jenny sat at a table, head in her hands and looking devastated. Michael's heart sunk as the worst came to mind. "He's not...?"

"No." Jenny sniffed. "No um...he said ah..." How on earth was she supposed to tell her father this? "Mutiny," she finally spat out, unable to form an entire sentence around the word. It burned on her tongue. "Mutiny and piracy."

"No!"

"That's what he said." Her voice was hollow.

"But our John would never--!"

"I know, Da. I know. But I mean...I still haven't heard from him yet. I...I dunno what to do." She turned her eyes to him. "They want to collect backwages, all the way to December but most of the money's already spent. We've got four children for God's sake!" They both flinched at use of the Lord's name in vain but neither of them said anything. No letter from her husband had yet reached them; Jack had sent his letter with a pirate who had promised to deliver it next time he was around that part of England, which wouldn't be for another few weeks. "What am I supposed to do, Da?"

~*~

In short order the wages were taken care of. Jenny had promised to pay Captain Teague back but he wouldn't hear of it. Family, he'd said, and the gold had been stolen from Company ships anyway. And wherever John was he'd find him, pirate or no, and deliver her letter.

Friday, March the Seventh
Year of Our Lord God Seventeen Hundred and Ten

My dearest John,

Please tell me none of this is true. A man from the Company came last week and said you had been outlawed for piracy and mutiny. I know you were a pirate for a time on your first voyage, but you were pressganged and had no choice in the matter, and confessed your sins when you came home. I just can't believe you would choose that life on purpose. Please tell me it's not true, John. I beg of you. It has to be a misunderstanding. Sean is the best barrister in Dover, he can argue your case to a higher court even if you can't return to England because of this. Maybe we can bring you home in short order then, because the man I married would not be guilty of such things.

The Company also demanded backpay from your wages which were sent to me. Captain Teague took care of it and though he won't hear of repayment I've started setting aside a little each week and maybe in time I'll be able to repay the kindness, no matter how much I dislike that it involved ill-gotten goods. With him along with this letter are also the letters the children and I have been writing each week. I'm sorry there's so many but I've been waiting for your next letter so I'd know where to send it to. Please, please send word back with your father. Tell me what they say isn't true. Until then I await your return and I'll be talking to Sean about building a case for you.

Your loving wife,
Jenny
 
Jack stumbled up the stairs after the... two? Or were there four? No, he was pretty sure there were only two. But whatever. He followed them up, drunk enough that he was unsure why he was following them. Something about going to bed, which sounded like a great idea to him. Be nice to sleep in a bed, it would. With his own Jenny beside him...

That sent a nagging thought through his alcohol-fuzzed brain. These women were prossissi... prozzi... whores, right? Why was he following them upstairs? But... there'd been no arrangement made...

The blonde one... Giselle? She said something as they stumbled into the room. Something about getting comfortable. Sounds like a good idea, he decided, flopping backwards onto the mattress with a thud. Drunk and exhausted, he barely registered the tugging at his breeches as he began to drift off...

He had no idea how long he was asleep when he felt the soft, wet tongue on his cock. Was he home? Cracking an eye, he caught sight if a mass of red hairbobbing up and down on his shaft. "Aaah..." he moaned, head rolling back. "S'good, Jenny... s'fuckin' good...""

"Oh Scarlett's the best in Tortuga, Captain," a voice purred as small hands began unbuttoning his shirt. "Whatever this Jenny did for you, she'll top it..."

Jack gasped, bucking his hips as a wet tongue circled his head. He stared wide-eyed at the half-naked blonde kneeling beside him. She smiled laciviously, sliding her hand down his chest to wrap around his cock. "I can promise you," she purred as Giselle swallowed him, "you'll forget al, about her..."
 
A lot of men liked two women going down on them, she'd figured out that much. Giselle watched Scarlett bob her head up and down Captain Jack's cock as she relieved him of his shirt and slid her hands up and down his body. It was big, there was no lie in that. Sliding one hand down his chest and stomach, gently she curled her fingers around the base of his cock. Scarlett's lipstick left smudges on her fingers as her lips met her hand; she had much more control over her gag reflexes than Giselle did, which was why they usually did it this way.

"Catchin' yer fancy is she?" Giselle purred as she watched Jack's face. With her free hand she pulled at the laces of her bodice until it fell below her breasts, nipples peaked. "What else wouldja 'ave us do then, love?" She kissed down his neck and chest before joining Scarlett at his shaft, moaning with put-on pleasure as she licked and teased while Scarlett pushed him over and over to the back of her throat.

Giselle glanced up briefly before reaching down to pull open Scarlett's bodice. A lot of men liked it when they handled each other like this. Her partner moaned around Jack's shaft as though in pleasure as Giselle massaged her breasts, tweaking her nipples gently.
 
Drunk and depressed as he was, and turned on as he was by the sight of two women going down on his cock, Jack was tempted. Strongly tempted. Feeling Giselle's tongue on his shaft while Scarlett swallowed him deep, it would be so easy to lie back and let them get him off. Nobody in Tortuga would care, after all. And nobody in Dover would ever need to know. And the sight of Giselle fondling Scarlett's breasts while Scarlett moaned around his shaft was getting him close in short order...

God, but he wanted to fuck right now. What harm would it be? It's not like he loved them. But... it wasn't a question of love. He would know. Even if he never told Jenny. He would know he'd betrayed her. And he'd never be able to look her in the eye again.

With a cry of anguish and frustration, Jack pushed Giselle away. "Get off me, you cheap slut!"
 
Giselle saw the look in his eye; he wanted so much more than to just get off. She grinned up at him. "S'right," she encouraged, watching thoughts flicker behind his eyes, "let us love you up proper, yeah?"

Then suddenly everything was chaos. Captain Jack cried out and pushed her away, sending her tumbling into Scarlett. Scarlett yelped as she fell sideways, teeth dragging along his shaft painfully. After untangling themselves from the pools of fabric that were their skirts, Giselle slapped him, hard, followed closely by Scarlett.

"Just coz we ain't some proper mistresses like your Jenny don't mean we're sluts like her!" Scarlett screeched. They didn't know who Jenny was or why Jack had mentioned her, but they didn't care. She probably was some slut.
 
"AAAAAAH!" Jack yelled, and it was hardly the sort of cry he'd like to make with an attractive redhead sucking on his erection. Because when he'd shoved Giselle away, she'd half-landed on Scarlett and sent her rolling sideways, and the redhead's teeth had scraped painfully over him. Eyes watering from the pain, he scrambled to his feet and looked about wildly for his trousers.

A solid slap rocked his head to one side. He spun, to find Giselle glaring murder at him. As he opened his mouth to say something, Scarlett slapped him as well. His head spun the other way, this time. The force sent him staggering into the bed, and he fell awkwardly across the thin mattress. His head bounced, and the room reeled around him for a moment.

"Just coz we ain't some proper mistresses like your Jenny don't mean we're sluts like her!" Scarlett screeched.

"Mistress!" Jack echoed, exploding to his feet. The room was still spinning, however, and what should have been a nicely dramatic pose - one hand on his hip, the other pointed in her face - was spoiled by the way he swayed and staggered and ended up pointing the wrong direction. Angrily he spun around, only to nearly lose his balance and fall back across the bed. Only a quick hand thrown out steadied him.

Sadly for Jack, that hand landed on Giselle's bare breast. She hissed in anger and slapped him again. This time he did fall backwards onto the bed, skull bouncing painfully on the boards beneath the thin mattress. "We're pros," she snarled, "same as this Jenny is! So don't you..."

Jack came back to his feet, fury in his eyes. "She's my wife! Not some cheap slattern like..."

Both women slapped him simultaneously. His head, unable to move with the impacts, absorbed the full force of both blows. he went down again, abused head bouncing painfully again. "All right..." he said, slowly, trying to point at the spinning figures that loomed above him, "I may have deserved that."
 
Giselle nodded in agreement. He did deserve it. "Wife!" she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Ain't no proper woman'd marry some drunkard pirate," Scarlett agreed. "Ain't no pirate'd go to a whore an' think about 'is wife."

"An' even if she was yer wife, she ain't no more," Giselle added nastily, fists on her hips. "Them society ladies'd rather die o' shame than stay married to a traitor pirate. Wife 'e says!"
 
Jack pushed himself upright, carefully. "I didn't 'go to a whire'," hesnapped. "I was just looking for a quiet place to get drunk." He tried to glare at Giselle, but his heart wasn't in it. There was too much truth in what she said to make him comfortable.

"And she's not a society lady," he said, resting his face in his hands. "She'sca barmaid. And the mother of our four children." The booze was combining with his sense if loss to make him maudlin. "And I only took the job bcause we needed the money, and now I'll never see them again."

He sat on the bed, numb and empty and overwhelmed by loss. Finally, he sighed. "Right, then. You don't want to..." Another sigh. "If you'll hand me my pants, I'll pay you for the evening and be on me way. No offense to you, just... I've done enough to hurt my Jenny as it is."
 
Giselle and Scarlett exchanged looks as their customer became morose and wanted to leave.. He sounded truthful enough, and clearly he wanted to stay faithful to his wife. After all, Hector had already paid; Captain Jack essentially had two free whores with whom he could do anything... Yet what he cared about was having hurt his wife. It was the most romantic thing they'd ever heard.

"You stay, love," Scarlett insisted, patting his knee before handing him his trousers. "Barbossa's already paid us the hour, an' ya don't wanna getcherself a bad reputation for bein' quick or soft or somethin'. Nobody'd take you seriously as a pirate captain, would they?"

"We kin play cards or somethin' instead," Giselle suggested helpfully. "It'll be a nice break for us anyhow, you keep yer reputation and stay true to yer Jenny." She dug in a box by the window for a battered deck of cards. "You ain't hurt no one, love," she assured him as she shuffled, not waiting for him to agree.
 
"Cards?" Jack asked, pulling his pants on.

"It'll be a nice break for us anyhow," Giselle answered, digging through a box. "You keep yer reputation and stay true to yer Jenny." With a triumphant flourish, she waved a deck in the air above her head. "You ain't hurt no one, love."

He blinked, bemused. And then he started to laugh. There was an odd, almost hysterical edge to that laughter as he collapsed into a chair by the table, and then he was doubled over and clutching his side. Finally, the wild laughter began to subside. "I'm... I'm sorry..." he gasped. "It... this isn't... isn't even... funny..." He wiped his eyes, drawing in a deep breath as he did. "It's just.... I..." Shaking his head, he tried again. "I just... had to get it out, you know. And it was that, or sobbing."

Reaching out, he plucked the deck from Giselle's hand and began shuffling it. "Right, then. Cards. Bouillotte? Or perhaps Jass? I've played a lot of card games, and I rather suspect that you ladies have as well." Pausing a moment, he dug a fistfull of coins out of his belt and dumped them on the table. "And, since Barbossa's paid the hour, I'll provide the stakes. Win, and you get a bonus..."
 
The women joined eagerly, happy to have salvaged the evening. Time passed, as it does, and Jack played many more hands with Scarlett and Giselle in their room or in the captain's cabin on the Pearl. Whispers of a hidden treasure reached Jack's ears, the gold of Cortez on the Isle de Muerta which would make whoever took it Immortal, undying. Not long after the first rumors of the gold reached him, so did Captain Teague. His father had decided to start at Tortuga, since that was where all pirates typically started, and it hadn't been hard to find him from there.

"What's on your head, boy?" The weathered captain sat across from Jack in the dingy pub without preamble. He slid Jenny's letter across the table to him. "You really think this is the best way? Never seeing them again? Thought you'd learned from my mistakes. Thought you were made of something better..." He spoke softly and slowly and didn't appear angry, but rather severely disappointed.

~*~

May Day. Usually an occasion for joy, and indeed it was for most in Dover but Jenny Sparrow was in a sour mood. John had missed their tenth anniversary and Jack's birthday, now the twin's birthday last week, and they hadn't so much as a letter since before Christmas. It was getting harder and harder to explain where Daddy was, especially to the elder two. Bloody pirate.

And now the streets were crowded with revelers and apparently gypsies on every street corner! Not that Jenny had anything against the Romani peoples, except that they were currently causing a blockage while she was trying to get to work. She shouldered her way through the crowd until Anne tugged on her skirt.

"Mommy look!"

"Anne Mary, it's rude to point." Jenny knocked her daughter's hand down, but Anne only lifted it to point again.

"But lookit the funny man!" She coughed so hard her chair creaked, but Anne was enraptured by the street performer. It was one of the gypsies, naturally, and he was doing some routine with mime and pratfalls, much to the amusement of the crowd.

"Can we watch Mama? Please?" Jack looked up at her excitedly, joining his sister in eager, pleading looks.

They didn't beg often, but when they did they teamed up on her and it just wasn't fair. Mommy, Mama... Sooner than she'd like she'd be Ma or even just Mum. Her babies were growing up too fast... And they rarely had a special treat like this... It wasn't like it would cost them anything, if they didn't want to. Even the Brigid and Lucy seemed to gang up on her, also pointing at the gypsy and excitedly babbling their baby talk with actual words interspersed. Jenny sighed in defeat.

"Fine." A cheer. "But not long," she added as she led them over, "Mummy's got to get to the pub so we can have a good supper tonight."
 
Jack glowered at his father over his mug. "I don't think it's 'the best way'," he snapped. "But what can I do? I'm an outlaw, now - or hadn't you heard? Captain Jack Sparrow, mutineer and master of the Black Pearl." He sighed. "And I can't really go back, without enough wealth to buy a pardon. And I can't bring Jenny and the children here, not without enough wealth to establish a household."

He knocked the rum back, and belched. "And Anne's still sick, last I heard. Deathly sick. Even if I could go back, without enough wealth to get her a good doctor, I'd just be going back to watch her die." Moving with exaggerated care, he topped off his mug and then poured Teague a mug as well. "But I've got a lead on something big," he grinned, then glanced around carefully. "Cortez' last treasure, enough gold to fill the holds of the Pearl three, maybe four times. And, if the tales are true, to guarantee immortality."

Another swallow.

"Course, it didn't do Cortez any good, did it? But still, gold enough to float the Pearl. Maybe gold enough, even after shares are distributed, to let me go back to England." He drained his mug, then groped for the next bottle. "You up for a joint venture, father? I helped you in Avalon, after all. C'n ye help me with La Isla de los Muertos - it's said there's enough treasure for two ships."



Jack and Anne laughed uproariously as the gypsy man chased his hat across the Dover street, finally capturing it with a heroic leap. With a flourish he put it back on his head, only to have it leap back into the air. It lept back up, only to be clapped back to his head with a lightning-quick hand. His head jerked back and forth as he struggled with it, gripping it tightly with both hands as it fought to escape. The struggle became more violent until, at the last, the man flipped backwards and landed at Jenny's feet. Reaching up to wipe the sweat from his forehead, the hat lept once more into the and landed on his lap.

Laughter and applause greeted his efforts as he bowed from his seated position, and several pennies flew through the air to land in the hat. Looking up and back, he grinned at Jenny. "Ion Vrabie, at your service m'lady."

His hat hopped up again, bouncing along his leg in an attempt to escape. Without looking, he snapped h is hand out and caught it. "Although, I fear, my hat is not so willing. Still, if I may be so bold, may I buy you and your charming children a drink?" The coins jingled as the hat struggled to escape. "I am not without funds, at this moment."
 
Teague snorted derisively when Jack mentioned that he'd only be returning to England to watch Anne die. "So you'd rather spare your own feelings and let her die without a father?" he demanded. "Make Jenny watch her die alone? Thought you loved them, boy." He took a swallow of his own drink after shaking his head. He shook it again when he announced that he was going after the treasure of Cortez.

"Yer a damn fool, Jackie," he said. "There's a reason no one goes after the treasure of the Isla de Muerta. Cursed gold, that is. It'll make ya immortal alright but there's a price. There's always a price. I needed your help in Avalon because legend said I needed blood kin to go with me into the woods. I'll not touch a single piece of that treasure and you oughtn't either. I wouldn't wish it on Anne for all the world." There was a dark look in the creases of his weathered face as he took another drink. Already he could see that being an outlaw wasn't kind to his son and he didn't like it. Taking a deep breath he carefully set the mug down and looked at him seriously.

"I'd have moved heaven and earth for you and yer ma if I'd known," he said slowly. "I'd have gone back to England in a heartbeat--did once--regardless of whether it'd get me hanged. That's whatcha do for family, Jackie. Go home to your wife and children, boy. They need you, and there oughtn't be any law that keeps you from going back."

~*~

Jenny smiled in spite of herself and her mood. He was very good. When he landed at her feet she yelped in surprise and jumped back, covering her smile with her hand; she was determined to be in a bad mood but he was making it quite difficult. Her eyebrows rose when he introduced himself to her and called her "m'lady."

"Thank you but I'm afraid we can't spare the time, Mister Vrabie," she returned. That he was quite handsome and no one had asked her for a drink like that in quite a while hadn't escaped her notice. "I've got to get to work, see; I'm no 'm'lady,' just a barmaid and I've four children to feed. So if you'll follow me I can show you where to get the best rum on the island." She indicated with a tilt of her head the direction of the Black Anchor before ushering her children that way. "Bit early to be drinking though, isn't it?" she mentioned casually over her shoulder.
 
Ion shifted a little, turning so he didn't have to try to look behind himself to see Jenny. "Nothing 'just' about a barmaid, m'lady," he grinned. "Seems to me that barmaids serve joy and comfort to the teeming masses. And if you've no thirst right now, I certainly do - pratfalls and mummery are difficult work, I'm afraid. So I'll take you up on your kindly offer, as I'd love to sample the finest rum in all of England."

With that he rolled backwards, doing a momentary handstand before flipping and landing on his feet. Anne laughed and clapped as he bowed, using his foot to make his hat leap up into his hand. Then, palming the coins and jamming the hat back on his head, he followed in her wake.

"Bit early to be drinking though, isn't it?" she called back to him.

"Not if it's the finest rum in the land," Ion assured her. "And I'll wager it's served by the finest barmaid, beside. And I assure you that it is never too early to drink fine rum in fine company." Noticing Jack glancing back at him, he threw himself forward with a squawk. Somersaulting twice, he caught his hat as it drifted back down to him and rose easily to his feet. "Stupid snakes," he muttered.

"There's no snake there!" Jack protested.

"Then what, m'lad, did I trip over?" He laughed at Jack's startled face. "And while you're mulling that over, scoot. You've got a mother to catch up with."


Jack was up out of his chair, gripping the neck of the bottle. "Damn you! I'm nothing like you!"

"No," Teague said, leaning back in his chair a little. "I tried to go home to you both. And you've just been wallowing in self-pity and whoring." His words were easy, but his eyes were cautious. How would his son react to that? Surprisingly, he began to laugh.

"Whoring?" He shook his head. "You mean Scarlett and Giselle?"

"The blonde and the redhead, yeah," Teague responded, eyes narrow.

Jack shook his head and kicked his chair around next to Teague. Still laughing, he dropped into the seat. "They're cover," he hissed.

"I'm sure I don't..."

"We gamble," Jack interrupted. "We talk. We drink. But I don't tumble them." Noting Teague's puzzled expression, he pressed on. "But how would it look for a pirate captain to sail into port and not wench? So I keep them on retainer, so to speak - they get the evening off, and I get to look like a proper pirate, and everyone wins."

Realizing he still clutched the bottle, he put it back on the table. "Except," he murmured, "my family. And you're right, you know that?"

"Usually am," Teague answered.

"I hate it when you're right, but I've just been wallowing and feeling sorry for myself. Making vague plans, but not really doing anything." He pulled himself upright, then leaned forward and pointed his finger in Teague's face. "So, Captain Jack Sparrow is sailing for Dover, he is - and he's going to tell his wife to her face what happened. And then I'm sailing for Cortez' gold. Gold enough to bring my whole family to the Indies, or buy my pardon, or whatever else it is Jenny and I agree on."

Teague started to protest, and Jack cut him off. "The gods of Egypt couldn't stop me, and neither could Hyperborea. So why should I fear some poncy Spaniard?"
 
Teague thought for a few long, silent minutes. He stared into his cup. Jack was dead set on sailing for Cortez's gold, that much was clear, and his natural hubris had been increased by his previous near-misses with other magics. Finally he took a slow, deep breath and looked up at his son.

"Aye, go back to 'em Jack," he finally agreed. "But you hold over a few ships on your way, mind. Company demanded back all your pay, from the mutiny on. I covered that and Jenny didn't like it much but I didn't give 'er a choice. I'm not letting my grandbabies starve because you decided to cross the Company. They'll need that back, plus some. You and I both know she don't make enough at that pub to feed four mouths plus herself." Teague gave him a stern look over the rim of his mug before drinking again. "You've already done the hard part; piratin' itself's pretty easy. Take whatcha can, give nothin' back." He tipped his cup in Jack's direction before taking a sip.

~*~

Jenny couldn't help but blush. She remembered when she and John had first met and he'd called her 'm'lady.' He'd stopped when she told him to...but really that was to keep herself humble. It was quite flattering and Ion seemed intent on it, which was admittedly charming. She started when he flipped up into a handstand, then again when she noticed him turning somersaults in the street. Charming and talented, and Jack and Anne seemed to like him well enough. The twins were two; they liked nearly everybody.

"You're quite the acrobat," she mentioned over her shoulder as Jack jogged to keep up with her. Soon enough they were at the Black Anchor and, instead of leading a perfect stranger right to her parents' front door, she ushered the children towards the counter. "Off you get, Jack. Take your sisters on back to the house."

"But Mumma I wanna see more of Mister Vr...Mr. Var...Mr. Ion's tricks!" Jack protested. Anne started to join in, wheeling forward and pouting pitifully--and, Jenny knew, purposely making her painful hacking cough even worse--but she was having none of it. An education was important and if Jack was to be a solicitor like John wanted they had to get an early start of it.

"Well Mr. Vrabie isn't working right now," she pointed out, "and you've got your lessons to tend to. You and Anne both, and I'm sure your cousins would miss you all."

"But I see them every day!" Jack complained, kicking at invisible dust on the floor. "One lesson won't hurt nothin'!"

"Do I need to tell Gran and Auntie Liz and Auntie Sarah you need another lesson in the Commandments instead?" Jenny threatened sternly, fists on her hips. "And there's plenty in Ephesians and Colossians about obeying your parents. And Proverbs! So I need to tell you again, Johnathan Sparrow? Anne?"

Jack blanched and looked at the ground. "No ma'am..." he mumbled. Anne shook her head with a quiet "no mummy."

"Good lad. Off you scoot to your lessons." She kissed them each before giving them a gentle nudge toward the kitchens which connected to the private kitchen of the Dolan home. Brushing her hands off on her apron like she'd just handled a physical mess, she turned a stressed smile to Ion. "Sorry about that. They're good kids, really, it's just their father's a...a sailor," not technically a lie, though not the whole truth, "and when he's gone this long they miss him and start acting out. Talking back and the like. I'll get that drink for ya. M'name's Jenny, by the way. You can just holler if you need me." She flashed him a somewhat brighter smile before striding briskly off.

It was early yet, though, and the Anchor wasn't terribly populated at ten in the morning. Once her morning duties had been completed Jenny returned to stand by Ion's table, having nothing better to do and a bit glad for a new face. Even if it was provocatively handsome. Something in her conscience niggled at that thought but she couldn't quite grab onto it yet.

"So what's it like, being a gypsy?" she asked. "I imagine it'd be interesting, traveling all about like that."
 
"What's it like, being a gypsy?" Ion considered that. "It's... freedom. You're not beholden to any lords, you can go wherever you wish, live however you like." He sipped his rum. "Family comes with you, too. We're all kin, in the caravan. I've even got my own wagon. Small and sadly empty right now, but life on the road isn't for everyone."

With a grin, he used his foot to nudge out a chair. "Sit, why don't you? The tavern's nearly empty right now, and I wager the patrons can see you well enough if you're sitting." A wink. "And I'm sure they'd want to see you." He sipped his rum again. "This is good, by the way. Probably one of the two reasons that the Black Anchor - if there is any justice in the world - has single-handedly made Dover the famous port it is. But tell me, what's it like being a sailor's widow?"


Jack touched his mug to Teague's. "To piracy," he grinned. "And to making the Company pay for what it's done to my family." A moment's consideration. "And the Spanish and French as well, because never let it be said that Captain Jack Sparrow's not a true patriot - or, at least, if it's said, then let it be said that he was a mercenary sort of patriot who enriched himself on Spanish gold."

Draining his mug, he thumped it down on the table. "I'd ask ye to carry letters fer me back to Dover," he said, rising, "but it seems I'm headed that way myself. So I'll just keep writing them, and deliver them to Jenny when I see her. So I'll just say thank you."

"For what?" Teague asked.

"For putting me back on the right path."

Teague laughed. "Son, if I'd put ye back on the right path, ye'd not be a pirate."

Jack doffed his hat and bowed low, then made his way to the door. "Gentlemen!" he called. "I'm bound for England and fortune! Who'll sail with Captain Jack Sparrow on the Black Pearl?"
 
A crew was assembled in fairly quick order. Not many people knew who this Captain Jack Sparrow was, but quite a few were looking to return to England. Quite a few more were interested in the fortune bit. Barbossa signed on as first mate, of course, and Gibbs as quartermaster. There were a few other familiar faces, as well: Pintel and Ragetti, Bootstrap Bill, a dwarf named Marty who had been aboard the Barnacle and recognized Jack. They were six days out to sea when Hector approached him.

"So, Cap'n," he started casually, "after England we're headed to the Isla de Muerta, yeah? Are the rumors true? It's an island what can't be found except by them as know how to find it?" Barbossa tilted his head and studied Jack's face as he waited for his answer. "The lads're a bit uneasy, see. They've heard yer reputation for getting...lost. Might settle 'em some if they had the headings, could find on a map just where we're going after England."

~*~

"It sounds lovely," Jenny replied truthfully, imagining brightly colored caravans and dusky evenings with gypsy music around a cook fire. She blushed deeply when Ion mentioned that the patrons would want to see her, but sat anyway. It was even too early for Ben Halliwell, who normally stopped in for lunch before staying a bit longer in the evenings.

"Tolja it was good," she said with a smile. The color started gradually fading from her cheeks and throat. "Not sure the Anchor's made Dover famous, or that it's famous at all though." Jenny didn't ask what the other reason was supposed to be; she was fairly sure she knew. Suspicions were further confirmed when he asked her about being a widow: she was fairly certain she had referred to John in present tense.

"I'm afraid you misunderstand me." She toyed idly with the black pearl on its fine silver chain; the engagement present had never left her neck since John had given it to her, and her wedding ring was prominently displayed on slender, pale fingers. "It's wife, actually, though several times I've been afraid otherwise. My husband is still very much alive. Being a sailor's wife, however, is...difficult. With four children and a sick little girl, anyway." Jenny cast her eyes to the table for a second before looking back up. She knew she oughtn't complain too much and suffer in silence as she had been; she didn't want to encourage Ion after all and make him think she was unhappy. But a deep, secret part of her almost wanted to encourage him. "He sends us what he makes, though, and is a good husband and father when he's home. He's been made a captain now, and this is supposed to be his last journey; he's supposed to make enough to be able to afford Anne's doctors and medicines. There's only so many collections they can take up at church, after all. I miss him, but he does right by us." She smiled thinly.

"But listen to me prattle on," she said after a few moments. "You don't want to hear the woes of a barmaid. What brings your caravan to Dover? Gypsies seldom pass this far south."
 
"He sounds like a good man, your husband," Ion observed. "But it's nit for nothing that a sailor's wife is also known as a sailor's widow - gone as much as they are, a sailor's wife never kniws for sure if her man is safe and well."

He drained his cup. "As to what brings us this far south..? Do you mean, what beyond the fine drink and lovely company?" He flashed a wink and a quick grin at that. "Why, it's the very fact that so few of us do come here that brings us here. To see if it's worth our tine to come so far south. And i for one believe it is."

Pausing to take another drink, he made a show of distress at finding his cup empty. Then he checked his purse, again appearing confused. Finally he cocked his head and examined Jenny's ear, before reaching out and appearing to produce two copper coins from that ear. "Ah, that's where they went," he laughed, making the pennies dance on his fingers. "They do say that like attracts like, although they're pale and drab next to you."

He pressed the two coins into her hand, his fingers whispering over her xkin as he withdrew them. "Might I trouble you for a refill?"
 
"He is a good man," Jenny agreed. "The best. He'd do anything for us." It felt almost as though she were trying to convince herself of the same. He was a good man, but what sort of good man leaves his family to turn pirate, doesn't send money, doesn't even write? She had been considering the possibility of giving singing lessons on Sundays just to help them get by.

When Ion insisted that it was worth their time to travel so far south Jenny smiled a little. "Clearly there are people here who would watch you. All of you, I mean. We don't get much in the way of traveling performers or circuses or anything." She trailed off and frowned when Ion seemed distracted as he searched his purse. A smile blossomed across Jenny's features when he pulled a few coins from her ear. It was a common trick and even she knew how to do it, but the way Ion did it was charming to say the least.

As she walked away Jenny reflected on the shiver that had run through her body and raised goosebumps on her arms. Watching her father fill the tankard she knew what it was and she didn't like it at all. It was sinful and disloyal; Jenny couldn't abide by disloyalty. Yet when she returned, rum in hand, she easily returned to her seat at his table. That wouldn't do at all...but still it was nice to have someone so handsome and charming paying attention to her again. Everyone here knew she was married and John was the only one who ever tried to charm her anymore. Well, Ion knew she was married but apparently didn't care. It was pure vanity and she knew it...but it felt nice. He'll be gone in a few days, she told herself, they'd never see one another again and that would be that; no harm in it.

"Have a care there," she warned as she sat. "I've seen many a man who makes much more than what strangers are willing to donate drink away his earnings and return to his family with nothing to show for a day's work."
 
Ion watched as jenny crossed back to the bar, giving the air of someone who was enjoying the sight very much thank you. The large man at the bar was scowling at him, though, and the gypsy didn't feel like crossing the barman. Both because it really was good rum, and because the man looked like he could tie a knot in a poker. So, waiting just a moment in hopes of not looking afraid, he shifted and watched the other patrons.


"You watch that one," Michael said, keeping his voice low. He wasn't looking up anymore, because he was focusing on filling the tankard. "I don't like the way he's looking at you, Jenny. A bit too interested, if you ask me." Then, handing the tankard back, he chuckled. "And listen to me, nagging away like you're still a little girl when you've given me four fine grandchildren. But..." he nodded at the gypsy. "You mind me, all right? Gypsies roam about, and they think they can... get away with things. Take liberties."

After a moment's hesitation, he reached below the bar and pressed a small dirk into her hand. "Tuck it in your dress, Jenny. God willing, you'll never need it. But... you're my little girl, for all that you're a grown women. So humor your pa, all right?"


She looked just as good coming as going, and wasn't the thought of her coming a delicious one? But, for now at least, he'd have to settle for the rum. Smiling, he managed to brush her fingers with his as he accepted the tankard. "Thank you," he said, meaning it.

"Have a care there," she warned as she sat. "I've seen many a man who makes much more than what strangers are willing to donate drink away his earnings and return to his family with nothing to show for a day's work."

"Oh, no fear there," Ion assured her. "This is my last tankard, and I'm only having this one because you were right - it is good." He demonstrated the proof of this by taking a healthy swallow. "And feel free to tell your other patrons that I said so, if you think it'll help."

For a few minutes he was content to sit and drink, and watch the sunlight play on Jenny's red hair. Finally, he sat the drink down. "Now I hope you'll forgive the presumption - since I've known you for all of about an hour, but... would you care to visit our camp tonight?" Seeing her expression, he raised a hand and added hastily "All of you. You and your children, I mean. There'll be eating and stories and music and dancing, and a number of children the same age as your own. Plenty of room at the fire, and it would be a chance for you to... rest. Relax, a little."

A shy smile. "What do you say?"
 
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