The Only Rules That Matter (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

Jenny waved her goodbyes to Ion and snorted in an attempt to hide her laughter when Anne insisted that her father didn't employ beautiful young serving maids, only her. "But I thought just a few weeks ago you said I was the prettiest mommy in the whole world?" she said, feigning offense.

"You are the prettiest mommy in the whole world," Brigid came to her sister's rescue, "but Daddy said Granddad has a beautiful young serving maid."

"I'm young!" Jenny pretended to be shocked.

"Nuh uh, you're oooold! Almost as old as Gran!" Brigid giggled behind her hand and twisted her head to one side when her mother playfully pinched at her.

"You watch it, Georgette!" her mother said sternly, using a generations-old mud name. "Or else it'll be nothing but pea soup for a week!" Leaning down she tickled her and smothered her with kisses before swatting her playfully on the bum to get her moving forward again.

John whispered in her ear and goosebumps raised on her arms as she gave him a secretive smile and murmured back to him, "Better be careful or I won't let you leave again. At this rate we'll have babe number six before you know it." She bumped him gently with her hip, though secretly she herself didn't believe there ever would be a baby number six; while she'd only briefly brought it up during their fight last night, Steven had been a particularly difficult pregnancy and she had nearly died in childbirth. Jenny had since believed her womb had been left scarred and barren by this last child, though that wasn't his fault of course. The Sparrows were a large family though; if God saw fit to bless her with more children then she would welcome them with as glad and open a heart as she had all her others. If He didn't, then she was already blessed five times over and would content herself with the little ones she had.

~*~

"Lucy? Brigid?" Jenny held Steven as she came up behind the twins. "What're you throwing sand at?"

"The crab."

"What crab?"

"That crab." Lucy pointed to the crab a few feet away, which scurried out from under the glob of sand that had landed on its back. Jenny frowned.

"That's not very nice! Why would you do that?"

"It snapped its claws at us Mumma!" Brigid usually only called her Mumma when she was sick or when she thought they would be in trouble.

"Of course it snapped its claws, loves. It's a crab! Here, watch." Boldly Jenny approached the crab and knelt in the sand. She held her hand out, palm up, and nudged the crab gently with her finger which encouraged it to crawl onto her palm. The twins gasped as she held out her palm with the snapping little crab in the center. "See? If you're not mean to it, it won't hurt you. Just like Laoch. You wouldn't throw things at Laoch would you?" They shook their heads earnestly. "Right. Because how would you like it if you were just minding your own business and somebody threw sand and shells and rocks at you?"

"We wouldn't..." the twins answered in unison, eyes downcast. Jenny smiled gently.

"Remember that then, hey? No matter if it's an animal or a bug or a person, you should always do unto others as you'd have them do unto you. Got it?" They nodded. "Good. Now let's--Aah!" Jenny fell on her rear, taken by surprise as John and Anne rushed by her, screaming and causing the twins to scatter. She laughed as she sat in the sand. "John, careful! I'm holding a crab what if it'd pinched me?" The smooth white crab didn't seem to mind, however, and just sat blinking in her hand.

Steven began to fuss his hungry fussing though, and Jenny bid the crab goodbye before setting it down and unlacing her corset, pulling it open, and holding the baby to her generous breast to latch onto. Carefully she stood and walked with the nursing child at her bare breast, alternately watching her children play with their father and looking out to sea, wondering when if ever it would bring him home again. Once he was done feeding she re-laced her corset and tucked herself back together before sitting with him at a tidepool, encouraging him to be gentle with the starfish he picked up and covering his head with her shawl when he looked to be getting a little pink. Down the beach Will and Elizabeth occasionally watched the Sparrows from afar, hardly able to believe they knew the man playing with small children.
 
John skidded to a halt as Jenny squawked in surprrise and sat down heavily on the sand. Anne howled with laughter, and he made fruitless attempts to shush her - biting down on his own amusement as he did - while he helped Jenny back to her feet. "John, careful!" she laughed. "I'm holding a crab! What if it pinched me?"

"Well," he answered, giving in to his own laughter, "I'd..." Then he got a good look at the horrid thing, and the color and the humor drained from his face. His mouth worked as he stared in horror at the white thing, remembering the crabs that had been his constant companions in the endless ages he'd spent in Davy Jones' Locker. Finally, with a sharp cry, he struck the thing from her hand. "I'm not going back!" he roared.

The crab scuttled, seeming to stare at him as it clicked its claws. "Damn your eyes!" he snarled, draeing his rapier. "I've escaped the Locker! I'm free of Jones' clutches, aye, and Calypso's as well."

"Daddy?" Anne said, confused and a little scared. The crab, for its part, scuttled back several paces.

"So whoever you serve - Jones or Calypso or Satan himself, you tell them! Tell them all!" With a sudden lunge, one arm reaching back to brace Anne, he slashed at the crab. It scuttled away, racing for the surf as his point narrowly missed. "They caught Captain Jack Sparriw once! Never again!"
 
Jenny's smile faded when the color drained from her husband's face. "Darling, what--?" But he struck the crab from her hand and she pulled her arm back as he shouted at the crab. "John!"

For the first time ever, Jenny's husband was frightening her. She knew he'd become rather eccentric, but he was shouting at the crab the way she'd once seen a homeless man shouting at a lamppost. She made a noise of alarm and leaped back a pace when John drew his rapier, threatening the crab with it and raving about someone named Jones or Calisto or something. Why had she allowed him to take his weapons out of their bedroom in the first place? He lunged forward and she had to dance to the side to avoid his sword as he slashed recklessly at the helpless little crab, screaming at it as it ran away.

"Johnathan!" He seemed to be having an episode similar to the one he'd had in their bedroom the previous night, and as much as it scared and saddened her she didn't want the girls remembering their father like this. She stepped in close, cautiously at first then bolder when she reached him, and cupped her free hand firmly around the back of his neck. Jenny pulled her husband's head down to rest his forehead against hers and stared into his eyes. "John, you're home," she promised in a low voice, hoping to avoid Anne's overhearing. "Wherever this locker is, whoever Jones and Calisto are, it doesn't matter anymore. You're home and you're real. I'm real. Your children are real, and you're frightening them." She wasn't being accusatory, merely informing him that the girls were scared and needed to come first in his considerations. "Come back to us, love."
 
Breathing hard, still gripping his rapier, JackJohn leaned into ihs wife's embrace. "I... didn't leave. Not this time, love. It's just..."

Just what? Explain how those crabs had mocked and tormented him in the Locker? Try to force Jenny to understand that he'd really been dead, that it hadn't just been a metaphor? Tell her, plainly, that he'd broken his word to her and dabbled in dark magics? That he'd bargained with Davy Jones to escape death at the cost of a hundred mortal souls? Because, even if she believed him, he doubted she'd be pleased that he planned to provide only 'evil' souls to Jones. "I... I'm sorry," he breathed. "Sorry for frightening you, and Anne. And the rest."

Pulling back, he sheathed his sword. Then he swung Anne around, cuddling her into a bear hug. "I... really am sorry, Anne."

"Why?" Anne replied, sniffing a little. "They're the crabs that crawl in the Queen's sandy bed, and they wanted to take you away." Jack's eyes widened, skin crawling as he realized what she was saying. "But they can't, daddy! Mommy... mommy won't let them! And... and neither will I!"

His eyes drifted to Jenny for a moment, then returned to his eldest daughter. "Ah... a ha..." he laughed, awkwardly. "One... one of your fairy stories?"

She shook her head. "No, daddy." Her eyes met his, disconcerting in their intensity for a minute, and then she beamed. "I dreamed about it! About a beautiful mermaid queen that you rescued from a... a mountain! And in my dream, she made you a knight and you sailed off to rescue her! And then... and then mommy went with you! To serve her at her court!"

She beamed. "Isn't that a good dream?"

"Uhm..." JackJohn hesitated. "Yes. Yes, it is. Now, why don't we get your sisters to show us the cave where they saw the fairies?"

"Sure, daddy!" Jack eased her onto his back once more and she clung, humming a gentle, unfamiliar tune as they rounded up the girls.
 
John apologized and Jenny sighed. She'd been strong for so long and she was tired of it; she had hoped that while her husband was finally home she could relax her vigil and sag a little. But her husband had come back broken and appeared to need her strength as well. She kissed him gently and shook her head a little.

"Then put up your sword," she instructed quietly. "And when we get home leave it under the bed. Your pistol too, John. I don't want you going away again and someone getting hurt, alright?" She didn't sound angry, just so, so weary. John apologized to their daughter, who insisted that the crabs wanted to take him away but she wouldn't let them and neither would Jenny. "Of course I won't love. Always said I won't, haven't I?"

John's eyes drifted to Jenny, but she merely shrugged. It was a dream Anne had once every few months or so and she'd heard about it each time. It was a strange dream but hardly worth taking seriously. It wasn't like it was a vision from God or anything, merely a little girl trying to work through where her daddy had gone for so long and why. She stroked Anne's hair gently as the child looked for approval from her father.

"It's a beautiful dream, pet," she assured her with a smile before tugging her shawl over Steven's head to keep him from getting sunburned. Together the Sparrows retrieved the twins and started back toward the house.

Behind the house on the edge of town were the woods. Brigid and Lucy led their parents to an enormous tree some half mile from their garden. Usually one boosted the other then the girl in the giant hole in the tree would pull her twin up, but with their parents they were simply boosted. Jenny handed Anne carefully up to Steven before following them in. The inside of the ancient tree did indeed seem like a cave. And there in the center of the "tree cave," as the girls called it, was a ring of mushrooms. Jenny raised her eyebrows in surprise and exchanged a look with John; the girls had indeed found a fairy ring.
 
John followed the twins, carrying Anne piggyback and holding Jenny's hand as he did. Over and over, his mind returned to the crab. Had he overreacted? Had it been nothing more than an ordinary, ghost-white crab? He snorted at the thought. He'd seen its kind a million times over, when he'd been trapped in the Locker. It was proof that the Otherworlds hadn't let him go, perhaps never would.

"...you shall never return home. This is my curse on you, John, for your sins. Never shall your soul rest with your wife and children in your home."

Damn them. Gods and devils and monsters and all of them. It was bad enough he'd been dragged into their world, haunted by shadows and struggling with curses. Now they pursued his daughter as well? How dare Calypso! How dare she!

Jenny made a soft noise ofdiscomfort, and he realized he eas squeezing her hand. "Sorry, love," he said, relaxing. "Just a little tense."

Brigid and Lucy squealed excitedly as theybsaw their "cave" - a massive living oak, hollowed out in the center by the passage of years. No, decades. Maybe centuries. He was tense as he lifted them up and clambered after, unsure what to expect. But the interior proved to be cool and dim, and not quite cramped when filled with two adults and four children.

The fairy ring, he decided, was a nice touch.

"It's lovely," he said, laughing as the twinsran around him. "You found all of this yourselves?"

"Yes!" Brigid exclaimed, just as Lucy said "No." Brigid turned on her sister, stamping her foot. "Did so!"

"Did not!" Lucy retorted. "The fairies showed us!"

"No they..."

"Sometimes," John interrupted, glancing around, "it can be hard to tell, when the Good Neighbors are involved. Some people see them, and others don't." He ruffled Brugid's hair. "But what's important is you both love it, not how you found it."

The two girls nodded, then started chasing one another again. John watched them for a moment, then wrapped his arms around his wife's waist. "Maybe we should come back here some evening," he murmured, nuzzling the back of her neck, "and... ah... look for fairies ourselves."
 
Jenny grinned and leaned back against her husband as he nuzzled her neck. "Well Mr. Sparrow, we never did find that headless ghost up at the castle," she murmured back to him. "Maybe we'll have better luck finding fairies out here, hm?"

"Stop!" Anne reached frantically over from her position and grabbed the hem of Brigid's skirt. Brigid yelped and fell back on her rear, tearing up but trying to be brave for her daddy when she hit her head on the inside of the tree.

"Anne Mary!"

"But Mama! She was about to go through the ring!" Anne pointed and sure enough Brigid's foot was inches from the nearest mushroom. "The fairies would've taken her away and we'd never ever see her again!"

"I thought you didn't believe in fairies?" Jenny asked gently. Anne was at the age we all reach where she wasn't sure about what exactly to believe in, and the stories from afar that he father brought home weren't helping.

"Well I mean, just in case..." Anne tried to backpedal, looking to her father for help. "Besides, Jack says there's nothing good about the Good Neighbors."

"That's because he says things like that," Brigid insisted, "so they play tricks on him." Lucy stifled a giggle behind her hand.

"So Jack's seen them too, hm?"

"He's the one spotted the fairy that showed us the tree cave!" Lucy chimed in.

Jenny raised her eyebrows and exchanged a look with her husband. Anne was at that in-between age, but Jack was getting a little old to be believing in fairies as more than just a passing superstition.
 
"So Jack's seen them too?" John asked, keeping his voice light as he knelt down to look at his youngest daughters. Brigid and Lucy nodded solemnly, and Anne looked unsure.

"Well," she temporized, "that's what he told them, anyway."

"We call them the Good Neighbors," John said carefully, "out of respect. But they're a little like people - some are good, some are bad, and some are a bit of both." He peered around the hollow, feeling less charmed than he had a few minutes ago. "But we should probably head home."

"Why?" the girls chorused.

"Because mommy's got to go to work, and I've got to cook dinner.

"You, daddy?" There was a sheptical tone in Lucy's question. "But mommy cooks! Or gramma!"

"Oh, I can cook," he assured them. "We'll take a turn through tiwn, and we'll have bouilliabaisse for dinner."

"Bull... bully base?" Brigid looked baffled.

"It's a French fish stew," John elaborated. "Now come along! Lots to do!"
 
Jenny stood with the girls and carefully climbed down from the tree. "I'm taking a holiday today, remember?" she reminded her husband as they stepped through the woods. "But I'll still be there tomorrow. Where did you learn to make French food?" She couldn't help but look a little impressed.

A week passed. John normally stayed home at least two weeks, more if there was nothing pressing or Jenny could persuade him to stay longer. Jenny found herself passive-aggressively battling for her family with Elizabeth, who had decided that whatever politics they'd left behind in the Caribbean were more important. She hadn't minded the young couple, but the more they tried to convince her husband to leave the less she liked them and eventually a few other crew members garnered invitations to stay at the Nest in their place. Ion, bless his soul, often listened to her ramble on the subject while she was cleaning up for closing and John was taking the children home.

Young Jack tried to avoid his father but Jenny threatened to speak to his master if he didn't spend at least one meal per day with them. The lad grumbled and didn't speak much, but he was in the pub for dinner every night and that was all Jenny asked. He tried not to speak much at these meals, however, but when forced to speak he would try to pick fights.

Apart from Jack there was a marked difference in Dover in the way people treated Jenny herself. In the street, even walking arm -in-arm with her husband and their brood, people of all ages and genders would whisper to her. "Whore," the "natural born English" citizens of Dover would mutter to her as they passed, "slut," "slattern," "witch." Witch seemed to bother her a bit still, but otherwise she pretended not to hear. Worst of all were the Halliwells, who would say these things in louder than a whisper and spit at her in front of her children. Ben, who now sported an eyepatch, would also trip her or throw things at her if he thought Jack wasn't nearby.

"Turn the other cheek, love," Jenny would murmur, grabbing Jack's arm if he tried to defend her. "We both know you're not staying, and I don't need any more trouble. I have to deal with whatever happens even after you go away again; Sean barely got me off once, I can't risk provoking Ben and putting that on him again."
 
John heard the comments as he walked the street. Heard them, and swalliwed his fury. But Jenny had been forced to hold him back when he saw Ben. Good old Ben. Ben, who'd been lije a brother to him. Ben, who'd tried to raoe his wife and then slandered her befire the law when he failed.

He wouldn't get away with it. By the Powers, he'd pay.


"Mister Gibs!"

"Ah, Cap'n Sparrow! Are we ready to sail?"

"Almost, though I've no stomach for it now. Have we a forger aming the crew, Mister Gibbs?"

"That we do, Captain. Why do you ask?"

"It so happens, Mister Gibbs, that I've need of a letter to be recopied. In the fashion of the handwriting on this letter. And I've git twenty gold soverigns in need of a new home."

"I'll see to them both, Caotain."


"You're a bad, bad boy," giggled Elsa Vrabie, not bothering to slap Jack's hand away. Instead she hooked two fingers in the collar of his shirt, pulling him close. "Care to show me just how bad..?" She sighed a little as Jack shifted, cupping her breast a little more firmly through her blouse, and her lips parted as he closed the gap between them.

Jack's heart pounded wildly as he kissed the gypsy girl, and his blood felt like liquid fire. They'd been stealing away to this secluded copse near Dover Castle on and off for weeks, playing and flirting and even touching, but it had never quite gotten this far before. He parted for breath, watching her warm brown eyes shine in the moonlight, then kissed her again. Tenatively he touched her lips with his tongue, and they mianed into each other as she opened to him.

"Well, this takes me back."

Elsa shrieked in surprise and Jack whirled, grooing for his walking stick even as the voice registered. "What the hell do you want?" he snapoed.

John Sparrow stood there, watching them. His face was in shadow but his dark eyes glittered in the moonlight. "A word with you." He doffed his hat. "Begging your pardon, ma'am."

"Well, I don't want to talk to you!" Jack snapped.

The words were a dagger in John's heart, an echo of the rage he'd carried at his own absent father. "I definitly deserved that," he agreed, "but it's not for me I want to talk to you - it's for your mother." He squatted diwn, looking the teenage boybin the face. "Gets to you, don't it? The things they say about your mither. The way Ben Halkiwell walks free while she suffers fir what he tried and what he did?"

Jack's sullen expression turned hard. "Yes," he snarled.

"Good lad!" John exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder. "And it so happens I could use the help of a good, stout lad in diing something about that." He stared into his son's eyes, dark eyes like his own. "Permanently. Interested?"
 
"Are you...are you sure about this, Jack?" Young Jack looked at the letters in his hand, then back at his father.

He'd excused himself from Elsa with many kisses and promises to make it up to her. He just knew he could've seen the gypsy girl's tits by now if Captain Jack hadn't interrupted, but Elsa would still be there and willing; she'd told him so. Her uncle Ion had told some of his family what had happened, and one of them had in turn told her, and she'd told Jack that looking after family was more important. God the way her eyes had shone in the moonlight as she'd said that, as if she'd thought him some sort of hero for defending his mother's honor...well, he couldn't go back now. But he wasn't sure what his father had in mind and it made him nervous. It was one thing to get into fist fights with the neighborhood boys for saying something about his ma, but this...?

Still, at the word from his father he went into the Crown And Saber Tavern--all Halliwells except the unfortunate Mrs. Danielle Halliwell, who had personally apologized to Jenny for her husband and had helped in whatever way she was permitted by the Dolans, had been banned from the Black Anchor--and tapped Ben on the shoulder. God but he wanted to sucker-punch the bastard! Instead he smiled meekly and held out the letter.

"Ma wanted me to give this to you, Mister Halliwell," he said quickly before turning on his heel and all but running back out the door and to the place he'd been told to keep a lookout. His heart pounded and he fidgeted nervously. After more than a year of wishing and hoping and hating, it was finally happening. And it was the father he was so, so very angry at who was finally doing right by them.
 
Ben watched the Sparrow bastard - and he had to be a bastard, given how much of a whore his mother was - scramble through the tavern door, then turned his attention to the letter in his hand. He had to turn his head from side to side, because focusing had been difficult ever since that bitch had taken his eye, but he finally made it out. Sure enough, it was his name. So he tore it open. The contents made his cock twitch.

"Meet me. Tonight. By the mile marker on the Dover Road. I can't wait.

J. S."

Was this it? Was the slut going to put out, finally? Had John's return finally driven home what a useless fuck he was, and now she was crawling to him? Well, he'd take her. Yes, yes he would. The whore wouldn't enjoy it, though. Not this time. She needed to learn respect, after all. Grinning, he stuffed the letter in his pocket and finished off his tankard. "I'll be back, lads!" he called as he rose. "Gonna go dip my wick, an' it looks to be a freebie!"

Raucous laughter followed him as he staggered into the night.


"But, I want to be here! I want to see it!"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because, son, if this turn ugly then I don't want you implicated. One Sparrow man's under sentence of death, and it'd break your mother's heart if another was added to the tally."

"But..."

"No. Now, do you remember your next part."

"Yes."

"Tell me."

"Deliver this letter to Mrs. Dani Halliwell, come the morning. And this one to the revenue men, two days after you sail. But what..."

"No buts, Jack. Go."


Ben staggered out towards the mile marker, grumbling and snarling as he went. His socket was aching from the damp, and he was hard and uncomfortable, and he wanted another drink. The slut was going to pay for this, she was. He'd get his uses out of her, all the things he'd done to Dani. But she'd scream like she liked them, if she was smart. Not like that slut wife of his, whimpering and begging and... "You!"

John Sparrow stood at the mile marker. He wasn't wearing his pirate clothes, but his hair was still ridiculous-looking and he still wobbled like he'd had one too many. There was something unsettling about his gaze, too. "Me."

Ben looked around. Fuck! This would spoil everything! Unless he knocked John down. Yeah, that'd do. Fuck that whore of his while he- the world dissolved into blinding pain as something hit him in the gut and he went down on his knees, vomiting up the beer he'd drunk. Jack stood to one side, and how'd that skinny fuck get so close? And then Jack's leg moved and the side of his head exploded into agony as the world wheeled around and he hit the ground.

"There's more than one person with the initials 'JS' in my household, Ben," John pointed out, a dangerous gleam in his dark eyes. "And you tried to rape my wife."

"She..." The statement cut off in a gurgle as John kicked him in the throat. Ben struggled to rise, then froze as he saw the dagger in John's hand. Not a knife, but a weapon. A tool, yes, but a tool designed for murder.

John followed his gaze, then chuckled. "Oh, no Ben. I wouldn't kill you with this. Your life's perfectly safe with me. Boys?"

Several large men emerged from the darkness, hogtying and gagging Ben before he could shout. Jack squatted down and pricked his nose with the dagger. "I promise you, Ben, you won't die by my hand. And Captain Jack Sparrow keeps his promises, isn't that right boys? Don't answer that. But I won't kill you, Ben." Jack leaned close. "And you should worry about that, while you rot in the hold of the Pearl. Worry about what Captain Jack has in mind, that won't kill you."

Then he rose. "Take him away, lads!"
 
"But why now?" It felt as though she was having to ask that more and more lately. So many whys and whens it made her heart ache. Jenny clung to her husband's neck as they stood on the quay, the girls all quietly crying. "In the middle of the night like some dishonest man..."

"The India Company's on our heels, Missus," Ragetti explained gently as he passed. "Wouldn't do if they knew you'd been harboring a shipful of fugitives." That was the line they'd been instructed to feed the captain's wife, anyway.

"And we've more pressing matters in the Caribbean." The triumphant glitter in Elizabeth's eye was unmistakable even in the dark.

"More important than my family?" Jenny scowled.

A shrug. "Well... You seem to have things here under control."

"Say that when you have little ones."

"One or two maybe, but not five."

Jenny still had Steven in one hand, but it took her husband catching her wrist and Pintel grabbing her around the waist to restrain her from getting at Elizabeth as their silent battle came to a head. Once they had her assurances she wouldn't hit Elizabeth when they let her go, Jenny glared at her.

"Get out of my sight and don't come back," she growled. Of all the pirates and unsavories hey husband had associated with over the years, one was finally banned from The Nest and it was the highborn girl who had fallen into this life.
 
Elizabeth glared, bracing for a fight until Will took her wrist and led her outside. The other pirates hemmed and hawed for a moment longer then murmured their goodbyes and sleft as well. Soon, only John and Jenny and Steven were left. Jihn took his wife in his arms and kissed her tears away. "This is my last voyage," he said softly. "I promise. And when this is over... we'll go wherever you wish. Ireland, or the Colonies, or Australia, or the Moon if you wish."

He kissed her, lingering over her lips. "No matter what, I promise." He hesitated, then dug in his pockets. "Here, let me show you something." With a shy flourish, he produced a battered compass. "This is a relic," he said, "given to me by a... well, a godly woman I once helped."

That was true, more or less. Calypso was, by some definition, godly.

"I've heard it contains a bit of wood from Saint Brendan's coracle."

Sort of true. He was hearing it right now, wasn't he?

"I don't know if that's true. But, she told me it will always point to my heart's desire. And watch!" Reluctantly releasing her, he moved a little. Tge needle focused on Jenny the whole time. "No matter what, Jenny. No matter where I go, I can find my way back. To you, my heart's desire. And when I get back, I won't need it more."

He took her in his arms and held her close, not wanting to let go. "And I'll be back, Jenny. Jonathan Sparrow, your husband, will be back." His arms tightened. "I've been through hell once to come home, and I'll do it again if it means crossing a thousand hells!"
 
"That's what you always say!" Jenny couldn't help more tears flooding her eyes as he promised that it was his last voyage. That promise had been broken so many times before. What if this was the last time he was ever there to break it? He promised that when he came back they could go wherever she wanted and she sniffled. "Better start building a ladder to the moon then." She gave him a weak, watery smile and returned his lingering kiss.

"No matter what, I promise."

He produced a compass and claimed it contained wood from a saint's coracle. She got the feeling he was embellishing the truth, but now wasn't the time to call him on it. She watched in amazement as the compass pointed to her no matter how he circled her, as though she were the magnet. She sniffled again, trying her best to hold back her tears as he promised to find his way back to her.

"The next time you come home then," she said, mustering all her courage, "toss it into the sea. Or give it to someone you know will never give it back to you. Just get rid of it. That way I know you mean to keep your promises this time." Jenny leaned against his chest, shifting when baby Steven fussed as he was squished a little between his parents. John promised to come home and be her husband again, even if he had to cross a thousand hells to get there.

"You better," she sniffled with a choked laugh, "or I'll run off with Ion. Swear I will." They both knew it was an empty threat; even if she had planned on it her faith would never allow it. With a few final kisses she finally let go of her husband and watched him walk up the gangplank.

As Captain Jack Sparrow sailed away once more, a shadow in the moonlight, darker than the night around it, flowed over the water as he watched and settled at his eldest daughter's feet with a faint cackle.
 
"No need to go that far," John laughed, kissing his wife again. "Although I daresay thaf disreputable rogue would be glad if the opportunity. He's no fool, that one." Not that he was worried. Jenny was his love, his heart and soul, and he trusted her more than he trusted himself. So he tucked the compass away, and pulled her close. "And I will be back," he swore. "And the next time I hold you in my arms, I'll never let you go again. By the Powersm I won't!"

Then he stepped back, a roguish gleam in his eye as the mantle of Captain Jack Sparrow settled across his shoulders. He blew her a kiss and swaggered uop the gangplank. "What's this?" he demanded. "Are the lot of you blushing maidens, to gawp so at the sight of a man with a woman? Step to, lads! Cast off, hoist the sails! It's Barbados we're for, and glory, and the wealth of the Carribean! All hands, step lively!"

He strolled the length if the ship, taking his place at the sterncastle wheel. Drawing his compass, he sighted along the needle and stared at Jenny. For a moment he was John Sparrow once more. Then he forced himself to harden his heart and think of Becket and the EIC. As the needle swung, he began to steer the Black Pearl out of Dover Harbor.


"You can't do this!" Ben Halliwell screamed. The pirates jeered and laughed, pelting him with rubbish. Bound to the mainmast as he was, he couldn't dodge. "You'll all hang!"

The laughter got louder. "Oooh..." Hector Barbossa rumbkld. "We'll hang, lads, d'ye hear? Best be letting him go then, as we've no wish to swing!"

More laughter. "Oh, I think we can take that risk. After all, this is only impressment."

Ben rolled his head, bringing his one eye to bear. "John!"

"Jack," came the correction, as the man he'd once known swaggered towards him. "Captain Jack, to you. Ben Halliwell. One-eye. I hearf how you lost thst, by the way. Naughty."

"I didn't... didn't... it was... just a joke, John! I... I thought..."

"Just a joke? Lads, d'ye hear? One-eye Ben here thinks raoe's a joking matter!" Jack keaned against the mast, ckeaning his fingernails with a knife and watcing Ben stare at the blade in hirror. "Ben. Ben, Ben, Ben.. there's men in this crew I keep on a leash. Men whi'd joke with you all day, if I let them." He gave his one-time friend a wintery smile. "I wouldn't be encouraging them, if I were you. I've been offered twenty guineas for you already."

Ben swalliwed, face ashen. "What... what are you..."

"What am I going to do with you?" Jack asked, finishing the thought. "Well, I'll spend some time deciding if the lads that want can play their little jokes. Eventually, though... d'ye kniw what a dead man's chest is, Ben?"

Ben's mouth worked, but no sounds emerged. Desperately, wide-eyed and shaking, he shook his head.

"What we'll do, Ben Halliwell, is find a sandbar that's well off the shipping lanes. And you'll go ashore. With three days worth of water, and a day's worth of food, and a pistol. Once you're ashore, we sail away and it's one lone man on a dead man's chest." Jack grinned, and the grin was pitiless. "Yo. Ho. Ho."

Ben stared at him, wide-eyed. "What..." he whispered, "what's... the pistol... for..?"

Jack clapped him on the shoulder. "Why Ben, it's your way off the island. As long as you think that suiciding yourself into hell is better than dying of thirst in the middle of the ocean." Laughing at Ben's anguished expression, Jack pushed away from the mast. "Fifteen men on a dead man's chest!" he sang.

"Yo, ho, ho, and a bottke of rum!" some of the pirates sang back.

"Drink and the devil have done for the rest!"

"Yo, ho, ho, and a bottke of rum!"



Jack knocked at the heavy oak door. After a moment, a disapproving matron of a housemaid answered. "Yes?" she huffed, eying the teen as if he were there to despoile the house.

"Mornin'," Jack replied brightly. "Begging your pardon, but is the lady of the house at home? I've a letter for her."

"You can give it to me," the maid huffed, "and..."

"But I'm afraud I can't, Goodwife," Jack interrupted, putting on his best apologetic voice. The one he used when mum scolded him for teasing his sisters. "Onky, see, Master Halliwell gave me a shilling and told me to put it in her hand directly."

The maid sighed. "Very well. Wait here."

The door closed. Jack examined the letter his father had handed him. The letter penned, apparentky, in Ben Halliwell's hand. It was sealed in an envelope, of course, so he held it up to the sun in wn effort to make out the text. He jumped, turning guiltilly as the door opened.

Mrs. Halliwell stood in the doorway, eyes shadowed and dark from lack of sleep - and from a purplish bruuse that left one eye puffy. "Y-yes?" she asked, voice hesitant.

Jack held out the letter. "I ran into Master Halliwell, ma'am," he said, repeating the lie he and his father had rehearsed. "At the coach. He... he bade me deliver this letter, ma'am."

Her hand shook a little as she took it. "Th... thank you," she whispered, voice distant. "Have... have you eaten?" The offer sounded rote, almost mechanical.

"I wouldn't say no to a bite," replied the growing teen, but she wasn't listening. She'd torn the envelope open and waz reading it with shaking hands. As sne did, her eyes widened. "Oh, Lord," she gasped. "Oh... Lord..." Sobbing, but with a curious expression of relief, she stumbled away from the door. A half turn back, some sirt if abortive attempt at manners, afforded Jack a quick glance at the ketter. It was filled with invective and abuse, and ended with the words "...shall never see me again, slut!"

Then the door closed. Shrugging, Jack turned and walked away. Ben Halliwell was gone, probably to a watery grave. And if his father - a man fir whom Jack was beginning to feel the stirrings of affection once more - was right, then he held a second letter that would bring that lordky rat bastard if an apothecary down equally low. Grinning at the prospect, Jack found himself singing as he strolled back towards home.

"Heave, ho, haul together, hoist the colors high..."
 
Ben Halliwell disappeared overnight. That it was the same night her husband had so suddenly set sail Jenny had no doubt wasn't a coincidence, though she never suspected her son's part in it. She didn't approve, of course, from a strictly Christian standpoint but she couldn't deny that it was a relief. Besides, she knew there were two parts to her husband: there was John the apothecary, the man she'd married, and there was Captain Jack the pirate. Captain Jack was not her husband and she had very little desire ever to know him, but it had been Captain Jack who had disposed of Ben, whatever had been done to him. She had to admit that she was grateful for the relief.

Now that things had died down in Ireland Jenny found herself making plans as she worked to take her family there once her husband finally returned. She even wrote a letter to a cousin whom John had never met, but who had occasionally visited and of whom Jenny had been particularly fond as a girl. Yes, came the reply, his village could use a good apothecary and she could find work in a tavern or as a teacher. When she showed the letter to her parents and explained the conversation she'd had with John they smiled sadly and hugged her. They didn't want her to leave Dover. But it wasn't safe here for John, and if leaving the country was the only way he could come home and be what he was meant to be then that was what they would have to do. Peter insisted on going with them to keep an eye out and to make sure he made good on his promises, but Sean and Michael both had businesses they had worked hard to build and couldn't just give up. For the first time the Dolan family would be divided snd it would be permanent, but they all agreed it was for the best if it meant the end of Captain Jack Sparrow the notorious pirate.

There was, however, some question about whether Anne could make the journey. Without her father bringing her bits and bobs to keep her alive the sickness was finally beginning to run its course. Unseen the Shadow Thing stalked her almost constantly, crouching above her bed at night and shaking as though with laughter every time she was wracked by a coughing fit or struggled to catch her breath. Oh, it visited Captain Jack of course, angry that he had escaped its clutches, but for now it liked to content itself mostly with feeding off of the misery at home, secure in the knowledge that the grief to come would be delectable. Eventually decision was made: they would leave before things got any worse. Though she didn't say it aloud to any but her parents, Jenny wouldn't be parted with her daughter's grave; she would die in Ireland or they would stay in Dover.

"He'll find us," she often repeated by way of comfort both to herself and to her children. "He's got that compass, and he said he would so he will. He'll always find us."

And the Company would never think to look at Hags Head near Lahinch. They'd keep to themselves and everything would be just fine. The Nest was packed up, as was Peter's house, and two wagons were bartered for at the expense of several patrons drinking for free for a month. With a heavy heart Michael hired a new barmaid and a new cook. The community gathered in the Anchor for their farewells with much drinking and many tears. A year and a day after John had set sail they were to leave. He'd been sending money and letters and she knew where to send her letters to him at a tavern in Tortuga, but Jack was busy making his stand against the Company. Her letter telling him where they'd gone would never reach him.

"Missus Sparrow?"

Jenny turned at her name. She'd locked up after everyone had gone home and now headed to the nest to get a few hours of sleep on the floor with her children before starting to Ireland before dawn. Two rough-looking men were lurking just off the path away from the lamplight, but she didn't see need to fear them just yet. "Yes?"

"We gots a letter for ye, from Cap'n Sparrow."

She breathed a sigh of relief, glad he'd gotten her letter in time, and stepped forward with her hand outstretched. One man grabbed her hand while the other covered her mouth before she could scream.

~*~

Four months ago Peter had left with his own family and his sister's. A man had been sent by his sister saying that her husband had returned just in time, but couldn't come to port because of Company ships prowling the area; she'd have to meet him in Canterbury and they'd join them later. Although the journey had taken twice as long as it ought to have, laden as it was with belongings and children (and thank goodness Sarah was still nursing so she could feed Steven along with her own babe) and a dog, Jenny never caught up with them. They'd been settled in their new home scarcely more than a week when Jack had decided something was wrong and had disappeared in the middle of the night with only a note. Shortly after he'd shown up in Dover, claiming no one had seen her in Canterbury, he'd disappeared again and no one had seen him since.

This was the explanation John was given when he'd returned home. He'd come home to the Nest to find the house he'd carried his new bride into, the house where all of his five children had been born, completely bare. No sign of Jenny or the children or even Laoch. The swing tied to the tree was gone, the garden grown over with weeds. The only evidence anyone had ever lived there at all were the discoloration on the bare wooden floor from rugs that had been there a decade or more and scuffs on the floors and walls from half a lifetime of children playing. Jenny had even scrubbed out the stove in hopes it would help her parents sell the place more quickly. When John went down to the Black Anchor Michael was still there of course, and livid. He told his son-in-law curtly what had happened then began to rail at him, to lay blame where he had long seen fault for althis. They'd looked high and low for Jenny and Jack; Mary had even taken the pub over for a week so Michael and Sean could go to London, to Canterbury, to Ipswich, to anydamnwhere either of them might be, but it was like they'd never existed at all.

"She kept going on about a compass," Michael finally said once he'd vented his spleen. "Said you'd use it to find her. Well you use it now, boy. Use it to find both of them. If you ever come back without them--both of them--then I swear by God if I don't string you up myself I'll turn you in and happily send the bounty to your children."
 
The second letter, it turned out, had been a detailed report of the elder Master Halluwell's dealings with Dutch and French smuggkers fir the better part of two decades. It wasn't a capital crime, but it meant that the apothecary found himself before the bench on charges of tax evasion. The fines were punative, sever enough after twenty years that he was forced to sell everything, even his home and the shop.

Following his father's instructions, Jack went riund to the apothecary shop when it went up for sale. Master Halliwell stoid before it, appearing numb and glassy-eyed. Approaching the old man, he cleared his throat.

"Yes?" Master Halluwell asked, sounding tired. "What is it?"

"Begging yer pardon, sir," Jack said. "But my father wanted me to deliver a message."

A sigh. "Very well, although I can't imagine what a pirate woukd want to say to me."

Jack peered around. It was August, so the message seemed... nonsensical. Still, a promise was a promise. "He just wanted me to tell you... 'God be with you, Master Halliwell. And Merry Christmas.'"

Stupid. Stupid message. But, it must have meant something to the old man. Because he sort of crumpled in on himself and started weeping.


John's heart thudded in his chest, loud enough to wake the dead it seemed, as Michael explained coldky what had happened and raged at him. "Compass... compass... damnit!" he shiuted, pulling at his dreadlocks and then pounding his fist on the bar in frustration. "I promised her that this was over!" He rested his face on the smooth wood, beating his fist against it in anger.

"Well it's not," Michael snapped. "You brought your troubkes home again, John. Ir Jack. Or whoever you are. And now they've snared..."

"Rum," John said, interrupting. "I need rum."

"The devil you do!" Michael exploded. "Your wife and son, my daughter and grandson, are..." The words died unsaid as John looked up at him, ice gleaming in his dark eyes.

"Rum. I need rum, Michael. Because I need to think, and thinking's not a job for sober or thirsty men." He rose, searching through pockets and louches and piling a number of interesting objects on the bar. "Here we go!" he declared, tossing a compass case on the bar. Then he started pulling parchment charts from a bag. "Well?" he asked, looking curiiusly at his father-in-law. "Where? Is? The? [I[Rum[/i]?"


By the time Michael returned, John was taking sightings aling his compass and drawing lines on a chart that showed the currents of the Channel. Not pausing, he grabbed the glass and drained it at one go. "Bottle," he murmured. Then he snapped his fingers and ooened and closed his hand several times. "I need the bottle," he added, voice sarcastically patient. Michael hesitated, then handed it over.

John sat up, taking a long pull from the neck. "Got a bearing," he said.

"Then you know where she is?"

Taking another pull of rum, John spun and regarded his father-in-law. "Course not. It's just one bearing. I need a second, and the good fortune to not have her move, so I can find her." Another swallow. "There's a few chests at the Nest. Use what you need to care for the children until we're back. Because we'll be back."

He polushed off the bottle and headed for the door. "What are you going to do?" Michael asked.

"Go to London," was the answer. "I need a ship and a crew, and the Esmerelda is in the Thames and her crew is in Newgate, and they'll do until I can find better."

"So, with a lrice in your head, you're going to march right into the heart of London? Are you mad?"

"No," he answered, swaying a little as he turned. There was a bcheery, slightly mad grin on his face. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."
 
The chests, Michael discovered after much searching including digging up the old grown-over garden, had been taken with them to Ireland. There was no need to worry about Peter being able to provide for seven littluns and a wife all on his own, and that sort of thing wasn't as uncommon where they were now. What gave him more cause to worry was Jack in London, and for good reason. "Notorious Pirate Captain Jack Sparrow To Be Sentenced To Hang," a customer read the headline to him, asking didn't he know that pirate. On the front page was a drawing not of his daughter's husband but of some other, older man, one of those louts John went about with while he was away. He'd seen him in the Anchor enough times to recognize him. "Notorious Pirate Captain Jack Sparrow Assaults His Majesty, Escapes," read the next day's headline and Michael breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't been sure whether the picture had been a printing error or if they'd captured the wrong man and called him Jack, but an escape so daring it was called an "assault on the king" smacked of the man.

Once they were out to sea Gibbs came to the captain, unaware that he'd come out of retirement almost immediately because he was looking for his son. "Sommat ye might wanna know, Cap'n," he warned. "There's an impostor taking on crews using your name. 'That can't be true,' says I, 'I just dropped him home in Dover.' Thought you might outta know."

There was indeed another man going by Jack Sparrow who was taking on crews in Tortuga. He wasn't technically an impostor, however, since his name was Jack Sparrow and he did have a right to allow people to assume that he meant he was the Jack Sparrow. That was how he'd justified it to himself, anyway, and was sure God would forgive him. In Dover he'd found a foreign ship full of sailors who didn't know him and had signed on as a deck hand. After a lifetime of hearing stories about Tortuga, his father insisting that if one needed a crew that was where you needed to go, he'd jumped ship in Port-au-Prince and had walked or hitchhiked to Tortuga. He was frankly amazed that he'd managed to get this far alive, never mind in one piece, but the business of recruiting a crew--which he had no idea how to do--was frustrating. So far all he'd gotten were three old men and comments that he looked younger than they thought the famous Captain Jack Sparrow ought.

The good news was he had asked around and already had an idea of where his mother had gone. A woman matching her description had been seen with a crew of Barbary and Spanish pirates who were going to Australia for slaves via Cadiz. He hadn't found a ship going to Cadiz and he only needed a crew to get him that far if they didn't want to stick around to Australia. He couldn't lie; this was the greatest adventure the fifteen-year-old lad had ever embarked upon, and now he understood why his father did it.
 
"An impostor?" Jack adjusted the wheel of the Esmerelda slightly. "They do say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, Gibbs. Should I be flattered?"

"I shouldn't think so, Captain," the older man answered.

"Perhaps not, but it may be the what I'm looking for."

Gibbs considered that. "You... think your wife may be masquerading as you?"

Jack chuckled. "That would be something, wouldn't it? But no, even if my Jenny escaped whoever it is that took her, I doubt she'd be able to pass herself off as me."

"Your son, then?"

"That's what I'm hoping, Mr. Gibbs. And we're bound for Tortuga anyway, to raise more of a crew. So we may as well look into this mysterious Captain..."


"Jack Sparrow!"

The cry rang out across the tavern, making Jack start and causing him to nearly spill his beer. The other men at the card table, men who he'd steadily been cleaning out (thank God that Ion had taught him to play poker!) laughed.

"Captain Jack Sparrow!"

Jack looked around. Two older women, one blonds and one a redhead, were storming towards him. And from the look of things, they seemed to know him - or, more accurately, his father. Who were they? Whores, he guessed from the heavy makeup. "Ah, ladies," he started to say, working to maintain his pretence.

The blonde slapped him hard across the face. "That's for having been here a week, and not having been to see us once!" The men at the table laughed.

"I..." Jack mumbled, rubbing his face, "I may have deserved that. But ladies, you must..."

"Now the redhead slapped him. "And that's for drinking in our place, and not stopping to talk!" The laughter was guffaws, now.

"I definitly deserved that," Jack ssaid, voice conciliatory. "But ladies, you must-whoah!" He staggered forward as the redhead seized his hand and pulled him towards the stairs. Behind him, the blonde was scoopng up his winnings while the men hooted and catcalled.

"Now you just come upstairs with us," the redhead said as they headed up, "and we'll take good care of you."

Jack was both excited and appalled at this turn of events. His father had been whoring! It was one thing to suspect it, but another to get proof. But niw, he was going to have to... He swallowed, hard. He'd gotten as far as groping and kissing with Elsa, but he'd never...

The door closed behind him. "Let me help you with that," the blonde purred, working the buckle of his sword belt as the redhead started to unlace her blouse.

"Uhm, you din't... don't..." Jack stammered, feeling the weight of the belt come away. "I mean-" The rest of the statement was lost in an explosive gasp as the redhead kicked him hard in the gut. He hit the ground, curled in a ball and gasping, and then felt the prick of cold steel as the blonde drew his cutlass and placed the point against his throat.

"You're not Captain Jack Sparrow, you little shit" Giselle said. "Too young, too short, and too Goddamn stupid. So who the hell are you?"
 
What stirrings in his loins despite realization of his father's treachery had been there was gone before he hit the floor. His own cutlass was against his throat and he mouthed wordlessly as he gasped for air, trying to save himself before she slit his throat. Who the hell were these women? What were they to his father? What had he said--or done--to them that would engender such a violent reaction? These questions didn't come as separate thoughts but as a jumbled mass as the winded lad tried to inflate his lungs.

"Son..." he finally rasped. Slowly he uncurled but didn't dare get up lest the sword draw more than the drop of blood it already had. "I'm his son. My name's Jack Sparrow too. And I'm not too short! I'm 'bout as tall as he is!" Jack seemed to take more offense at this than at being called stupid. He'd surpassed his mother over a year ago and was, indeed, nearly as tall as his father and still rapidly growing. It was a feat he was proud of despite having no control over it and everyone had thoroughly expected him to grow at least as tall as his Uncle Peter.

"If you'll point that thing elsewhere," he said, pushing the cutlass aside and standing, "I can tell you why I'm pretending to be my father." Charm and wit, that was how Captain Jack had always described how he got out of messes much larger than this. And his mum was always saying how like his father he was, no matter how much he hated the comparison. So now more than ever it was important to think like Captain Jack and try to at least be charming if not witty.

"I'm looking for my mother," he admitted, hiking his pants up and sitting on the edge of the bed. "We um, we were moving. She said my dad had this compass so he'd always know how to find us. Rubbish, but I mean there were still people who'd tell him where we'd gone. Said he'd promised her they could go anywhere when he came back, but my little sister's real sick and she..." Jack's voice cracked a little. He knew Anne was dying, knew that she would possibly be dead by the time he got back home. But he had to try; his mother would be devastated if she were gone too and Anne died parentless and alone.

He cleared his throat. "Anyway, day before we left she disappeared. A man said she'd gone to Canterbury to meet up with Captain--With my father and would catch up with us. He's got timing like that so I didn't think anything of it. But it took us two weeks to get to Ireland and she still hadn't shown up. I went back, went to Canterbury and nobody had even heard of her. Went back to Dover and nobody had seen her since that night. Then I heard my father had been seen in Barbados the week before and...well..." He looked up at them with pleading in his eyes. "I couldn't just sit on me thumbs. He's always saying Tortuga's the best place to find a crew. My ma's missing, my sister's dying, and that useless bastard is nowhere to be found as usual. You can't tell me you wouldn't have done the same."

He leaned back a little and looked them up and down, trying not to stare at their breasts. They certainly weren't any Elsa Vrabie, but they had bigger tits than she did. "So who are you then?"
 
Anger turned to skepticism and then to concern as the young man spoke, with the redhead gasping at the news of his dying sister and the blonde covering her mouth with both hands when he spoke of his mother. Finally, the redhead spoke up. "You're little Jack? And you've come all this way, trying to help your mother? Oh, my heavens!"

"We've heard so much about you!" the blonde cried, unexpectedly pulling Jack into a pillowy hug. "Give your Auntie Giselle a hug!"

Almost before the lad could come to terms with having his face pressed against an acerage of bared cleavage, he was pulled back. "You'll smother the lad, Giselle."

"Who...who are you?" Jack stammered out, face crimson.

"Why, I'm Scarlett," the redhead declared, "and she's my partner Giselle. And we've known your father for... years, really."

"Didn't he tell you about us?" Giselle asked, sounding a little hurt.

"Now, why would he?" Scarlett challenged. "Get his family all worked up, and for nothing?"

"Nothing?" Anger flashed in Jack's dark eyes. "He betrays my mither with... with... "

"Whores, love," Giselle said casually as Scarlett started laughing. "The word you're looking for is 'whores'. And he didn't betray anyone."

"Well, nobody in his family," Scarlett laughed.

"Fair enough," Giselle conceeded. "Here, little Jack, let Auntie Giselle tell you a story..."



He knew he didn't have a lot of life experience, but it was still one of the strangest things he'd ever done. If he'd bothered to imagine what going to the room if two whores would have been like, he wouldn't have imagined playing poker for ha'penny stakes while they told him stories about his dad. And reminisced. And explained that he'd never once touched them.

"A right gentleman he was," Scarlett said. "We was a cover for him. A way to look the part of the rakish pirate captain, while staying true to his Jenny."

"It's true," Giselle added. "We'd talk and play cards and drink and sing songs, and he'd tell us about you all. It was nice. Felt like we was part of the family, it did."

"Nice break, too. He paid well for weeks of our time, and we didn't need to lay nobidy. Was like a vacation."

"So you never, hm. With my dad?"

Both women laughed. "Oh, we would have," Scarlett said. "If he'd asked. But he never did."

"Huh." The news was welcome, even if it did contradict his impressions of his father. "Uhm... I can't afford to pay or weeks, though. I mean, I do well at poker - full house, by the way, aces and eights. But not that well."

They laughed again. "Now don't you worry about that, little Jack," Scarlett told him. "We run the place, these days. You'll not be sleeping on the streets."

"And we'll help you out," announced Giselle. "Help you do a better Captain Jack, and put it about that we think you're the genuine article."

Scarlett grabbed a bottle and a leather mug. "First lesson," she declared, filling the mug. "Rum!"
 
He wasn't sure how he felt about being called "little Jack," but Scarlett and Giselle were helpful. Rum was much stronger than ale, but it seemed to help with his Captain Jack impersonation. He practiced swaggering to and fro in their little bedroom, his father's slurred way of speech, is roguish smile. When he'd finally drunk enough he even tried his hand at what he'd thought to be the truth, that Captain Jack was a womanizing bastard.

"I mean, a good impersonation," his tongue struggled over the word, "wouldn't be complete without it." Jack sat on the edge of the bed with one arm around each of their waists. "No one's gonna believe in a Captain Jack who's not dipped his wick a few times, eh?" He wasn't bothering trying to not stare at their breasts anymore. The more he'd drunk the prettier they'd gotten, prettier than Elsa even. And if he was going to lose it, well...why not them?
 
Scarlett giggled at Jack's suggestion, and Giselle glared at her before responding. "About that... see, yer dad, he never actually touched us. And he talked a lot about you and your sisters."

Scarlett nodded and joined in. "So, while it isn't that we wouldn't tumble a lad of yer age..."

"Course not," Giselle confirmed. "If you've coin and you can get it up, you can have a turn in the saddle. That's our motto."

"Right," Scarlett continued, "but you... well, you feel like famiky."

"Like you really was our nephew," Giselle tossed in.

"And it wouldn't be right, you know. We've our limits, we do."

Scarlett drummed her fingers on the table. "Oh, wait! Alice! He'd oike Alice!"

"Good thought," Giselle agreed. "She's about your age, Jack. With big knockers and no gag reflex. She'd haul your ashes good for you, goid and proper. I'll just go and..."

"Hang on," Scarlett interrupted, as Giselle started to rise. "Problem with that."

"Hm?"

Scarlett sighed. "Captain Jack's known to have an arrangement with us. How'd it look if he started seeing another whore, right in our house."

Giselle sighed as well. "Point. Yeah, goid point." She gave the fledgling pirate a sympathetic look. "Sorry. Looks like you'll have to, uh, Jack it a while longer."
 
"If you've got coin and you can get it up, you can have a turn in the saddle. That's our motto."

"Well what're we waitin' for!" Jack grinned a lopsided grin very much like his father's. But they turned him down on the basis of being "family," despite never having met him before. The sting of disappointment was alleviated when Scarlett mentioned one of the other girls. Big knockers and no gag reflex! His cock twitched at just the thought, but then even as Giselle started to go get her Scarlett pointed out the problem.

"What?" he demanded. He shook his head exaggeratedly, causing his hat to fall off. He giggled at that for a few moments before re-focusing on the problem at hand. "Wouldn' it...wouldn' 'e..." Jack's fuzzy brain struggled to wrap around the thought, then he finally got a grasp on it. "There's stories the lads've told me," he said at last. "Wi' three girls. Couldn'...couldn' y'do sommat like that? Only, y'know, just the one? Only people'd think it was three?" He pulled his face into his best imitation of Captain Jack asking his mother for forgiveness, since that particular face always seemed to work on women. "Whaddye say? You two lovely girls don' even hafta touch me."
 
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