The Sparrows |{Jack Sparrow x OC}|

Chapter 4

Barbossa stared at his pockets and then up at me, baffled. "How did ye..."

"Well." Jack cleared his throat, "right then." 

I winked at the befuddled Barbossa and slowly began unfolding the sheet. It was heavy, like cloth. Its look and feel resembled a pirate map, but the more I could see of its contents, the more bewildered I felt. I carefully laid it over the bedspread, analyzing the markings.

The dark blue lines came together to resemble what looked like an island, at least, part of one with symbols and directions that I only vaguely remember from childhood. While one side of the map's edges was smooth, the other was cragged and torn, right down the middle of the isle. I trailed my finger over the crooked edges, recalling a faint reminiscence from long ago.

This image brought to my mind a memory onboard my parents' ship, the waves bobbing us up and down like a cork. My father, Jean-Baptiste Baudin, had lain a map on the large helm and was examining it thoroughly, the wind winding its way through his copper curls. I was straining to catch a glimpse of what my father was gazing at so intensely, when my mother, Marlène, hoisted me up to get a better view, gently pushing slightly lightened hair away from my face, spending all your life on sea will do that.

Blue lines etched their way forming an island, very similar to the image that I now faced. Only, the half that was crooked was smooth and vice versa. "See that, Mermaid?" My father smiled at me, the deep lines around his mouth and in the corners of his eyes infecting his wife and daughter with happiness, "Isla de muerta..."

I hid this revelation behind a perplexed glare, not yet wanting these pirates to know my thoughts until their intentions become clear. "Alright." I shut the map quickly. Jack and Barbossa had been eagerly hovering over each shoulder and suddenly snapped back with my brisk motion. "What is it that's led you to believe I have any connection to this?" I held the map up to Jack, questioningly. 

"Because, darling," Jack smiled knowingly, his eyes sparkling, "we pirates know you, Floria Baudin, the blackmailing temptress whose secrets start battles." Jack gently took the map from my hands. "A lot of which help distract the blood British from tailin' us out to sea, savvy?"

When I said nothing to deny these allegations, Jack continued, lowering his hat and held it over his chest somberly. "Not to mention your dear old mum and dad, God rest their souls." He seemed genuine when he said this, so I nodded to signal that we understood one another. 

"What do you want with Isla de Muerta?" I finally asked. 

Jack's eyes gleamed and his smile returned. "Right!" He held up a finger excitedly and returned the map to his belt. "Do you know the value of Aztec gold, Floria?"

That caught my attention. "Not exactly, but I can guess. It'll make me rich beyond my wildest dreams so I can stop flattering washed-up drunks for their coins and secrets?" Jack and I both glanced at Barbossa who glared me up and down, obviously shocked by that comment. "What? You really thought I was head over heels for a stranger in a wine house?"

Barbossa's flustered look mellowed into lust. "One day me siren..." he trailed a finger down my arm. 

"Trim those fingernails and we'll talk." I jabbed and shook my head amused. 

"Sorry Hector," Jack grinned. "Now, Floria, you think you're doing well now. Come with me onboard the Pearl, show us the way to Isla de Muerta, you'll make a life for yourself. A life good ole Jean-Baptiste himself would want for his only daughter." 

I fought back tears as best I could, one rebelliously made its way down my cheek from the corner of my eye. 

"Ye said it yerself," Barbossa interjected. "Ye always wanted to see the world."

I looked them both in the eye. "Even if I had the other half," I glanced down at the map and back up to meet Jack's eye. "Why not just steal it and leave me hanging out to dry?"

"Because, a ship's crew gets along better with a woman onboard, makes everyone less gruff, softer." 

I raised an eyebrow. 

"And," Jack continued, "I knew your parents well as a lad. They showed me mercy when I had nothing left." His solemn look convinced me that he spoke truth. I have a way of sensing these things in people. 

I pondered his proposal as quickly as possible in my mind. I had a life here, stability. By day cleaning up after the governor's child, by night dancing. I had a place to lay my head, at the governor's mansion or among friends at Mary's. Here I was free. Well, more free than most other women on the island. I made my own choices, with what little I arrived with. Could this be a chance to reclaim my old life that my parents were stolen from? Just then I knew who I needed to consult. 

"How long will you be docked here?" I looked to Jack who had been eagerly waiting for my response. 

"We'll be here til midnight, off the Eastern side." 

"Alright, give me til then. I need to patch up some loose ends." The men looked to each other with hopes of gold in their eyes. I suddenly pointed my sword to Jack's neck. "But try anything at all," I slightly dug the sword in, not enough to draw blood, only fear. "I won't be hesitant to go deeper next time, yeah?"

Jack noded, hands up in surrender. "Aye, Miss Baudin, you have the word of a captain, savvy? Not a hand shall be lain on you. And your reward shall be more than you can fathom." His sincerity was evident: This was not a heartless man. 

I carefully removed the blade and dropped it to the floor. "Right then, midnight." I sauntered back toward the window, pondering how to proceed. 

"Aye, there be a dock less guarded than most. Meet us beneath it when yer ready." Barbossa instructed, eager. 

I watched the dark sea shimmer with possibility and eyed the redcoats patrolling the Northern dock with singular precision. I swiveled around and looked to the pirates. "Midnight. You'll find me under the Eastern dock." It's done. Simple as that, I'd left my care in the hands of pirates I'd barely begun to know. But, my mother's words rung in my ears, reminding me that 'where's the fun of going through life without rolling the dice?'

"I assume you can see yourselves out?" I asked, an eyebrow raised. 

"Aye," Jack smiled, knowingly. I nodded and brushed past them toward the rickety door. "Floria," Jack called out after me. "You've grown into a fine woman. I know old Jean and Marly would be proud."

I smiled, glancing to the floorboards and back up at Jack. "They'd be proud of you too, Jackie." A memory so far away had been growing nearer throughout the evening. Of a young, strong-willed girl chasing after her playmate on the decks of a ship. A long-haired pirate child with no parents, and laughter that filled her days with joy. They would lay awake gazing at the stars on a ship churning up and down across clear-colored waters, the boy telling stories of worlds beyond, filling Floria with imagination. "You've made that up, Jackie," she'd tease. He'd shrug, his eyes brown full of the reflected light of the stars overhead, smiling at her. "Maybe, but that's nothing compared to the adventures we'll have, Floria." The little boy had been dancing his way across her memory that evening, and she knew, unmistakably, that here, some fifteen years later, was Jackie. Her childhood friend that would guide her back to the sea.