My Jolly Sailor Bold: Captain Jack Sparrow

Chapter 10

Jack and Barbossa were both captured by the Spanish after trying to steal the chalices. They were both tied to palm trees not far from the castle, Jack slightly offset at getting captured.

"How's that escape route working?" he asked Barbossa sarcastically.

"Here's yer chance to improvise." he snapped back.

"I'm attempting it." Jack said, trying to work on the ropes around his hands. "I might be able to get a hand loose." He noticed Barbossa was loosening his wooden limb from where it sat. "Oh, you got a knife! That's very good." Jack said hopefully.

"Better." Barbossa claimed, popping a cork out of the wood and bringing it to his mouth, the rum inside sloshing as he drank it.

Jack looked at the leg-flask longingly. "I want one of those." he mumbled, missing the taste of rum already. Barbossa handed him the end, and he held it up as best he could. "Here's to revenge. Sweet and clear." he said, and took a sip

"Revenge?" Barbossa inquired, wondering how he guessed his ultimatum.

"Come, come, Hector. If you wanted the chalices, you'd seen they were missing and gone." Jack stated, recalling back to Ponce de Leon's ship. "You were lying in wait, for Blackbeard."

"Oh?" Barbossa reached back for his rum, Jack obliging.

"King George. Privateer. Wig. Cheap theatrical façade. I'm not buying it."

"You weren't there that night."

"When the Pearl was lost?" Jack said. "And (Y/n) joined her father?"

"Not lost and she didn't join. Both were taken." Barbossa said, remembering the exchange between (Y/n) and her father. "We were off the coast of Hispaniola, waiting for Blackbeard to come and collect his bounty. Instead of fair trade, we came under attack. No provocation nor warning nor offer of parlay. We were peppered with cannon fire. And then the sea beneath the Pearl began to roil. The Pearl was pitching and yawing violently. Every plank, every rail, every spar, all at once, began to creak. The riggin' had come to life. Our own ship turned against us... tanglin' the crew, wrappin' around 'em like snakes. And wrappin' around me leg. But me arms were free and me sword was to hand. I am the master of me ship, not Blackbeard. I am the master of my fate, not Blackbeard. So I did what needed done." Barbossa shakily spoke as he recalled the night, taking one more swig of rum. "I survived."

Barbossa placed the leg back as Jack absorbed the tale he heard. One thought swam through his head. "And (Y/n)?" he asked, drawing back Barbossa's attention. "How'd ol' Blackbeard get her on board?"

"He told her of her history, but she didn't believe him. She had no wantin' nor need of goin' with him. But the choice was come with or die aboard the ship." Barbossa recalled.

So she didn't want this. She didn't want to be here Jack thought. He saw in her eyes the same fear that would take the heart of him, only it was amplified by her father's presence in her life. Having someone like Blackbeard as a father was not easy. "Was it worth it?" Jack asked. The now-privateer looked at him questioningly. "Was it worth taking her away?"

"No amount of treasure could overbear the regret I felt the moment she stepped, 'board that ship." Barbossa claimed, not looking Jack in the eye. "Me greed got the best of me, Jack."

"So... you're not after the Fountain?"

"I care not for King George or tavern yarns that give hope for a healed limb. But I'd give my left arm for a chance at Blackbeard." Barbossa said.

"Not your right?"

"I need me good arm to drive my poisoned blade through his heart. Could even free your beloved Miss Rogers once more, clear me conscience."