A Pirate and His Wolf (Pirates of the Caribbean)

Chapter 26

Later on that night, Jack found himself sitting alone in his quarters, the ship's gentle rocking motion causing him to get easily frustrated. This was completely unheard of, as the slow rocking of a ship usually made him feel quite at peace. He glanced down at the "P" branded on his wrist, before looking at the closed compass, which he held tightly in his hand. He gave it a slight shake before sneaking the lid open. The compass continued to point to the West before continuing to spin about. He shook the compass once more, eyes closed muttering, "I know what I want." A few seconds later, he opened one eye and spotted the dial, which continued to spin.

He dropped the divider and triangle protractor that he'd been using to chart a course. Reaching for the bottle of rum to alleviate the stress, he thought of Zachary, and what his advice would have been in the moment.

"Just toss the stupid compass away, and take a guess as to where this key might be. Odds are you probably know. You just don't know you know."

He lifted the bottle and sighed as he turned it over, letting the last three drops of rum fall out. "Why is the rum always gone?" He stood up suddenly, and staggered, "right. That's why."

Carefully, he made his way to the door and headed through the hold, where the sailors were currently sleeping, their snores reverberating through Jack's ears. "As you were gentlemen," he murmured, picking up a bundle of keys from a nail in the wall, and unlocking the rum locker.

He hung the keys on the nearest nail and began pulling out the remaining rum bottles, each one empty. The ship tilted roughly to the right, and the lantern in Jack's hand swung wildly, illuminating a single bottle at the bottom of the rack. Jack grinned and bent down, before recoiling slightly at the barnacle-encrusted bottle. He tugged it out and gave the bottle a small shake. Something was definitely off; he uncorked it with his mouth and peered inside. Sighing, he turned it over, letting the sand spill out onto the floor. Just as he was about to give up, a voice spoke from the shadows.

"Time's run out Jack."

Jack dropped the bottle and turned slowly, letting the light of the lantern fall into the shadow. A figure stirred, and Jack crept closer. A man sat on a small barrel, the small part of his face that Jack could see was extremely pale and hair dripping. He turned, and Jack watched in horror as a small sea-creature crawled across the left side of his face. The right side is what stopped his breath. It was completely covered in barnacles and crustaceans, and a large starfish had taken hold of his cheek. Jack winced, and thought of the young man he'd become acquainted with on his quest to get the Pearl, "Bootstrap? Bill Turner?"

Bootstrap smiled, "Jack Sparrow. You look good."

He stepped out of the shadows slightly, allowing Jack to get a better look at him, and waiting for the man to exchange the compliment.

Jack opened his mouth, attempting to be polite, but he found himself unable to return the favor. Instead, he asked, "Is this a dream?"

"No," replied Bootstrap, looking quite solemn, as though he'd rather be anywhere but on the Pearl.

Jack nodded," I thought not. If it were, there'd be rum."

Suddenly, Bootstrap raised an arm, his joints cracking as though they hadn't moved in years. His hand was wrapped around the neck of a bottle. Jack smiled and tugged it loses, as Bootstrap's hand was also encrusted with barnacles. He gave it a sniff, before wiping the mouth of the bottle, and taking a long drink.

"You got the Pearl back, I see."

Jack took a long sip, "I had some help retrieving the Pearl." He paused deciding to leave Zachary out of the mess, "Your son."

Bootstrap's eyes widened, "William?" he asked, taken aback. Jack nodded, and the old man sighed, "he ended up a pirate after all."

Jack scoffed, "Given a liberal definition of the word 'pirate.' He's got an unhealthy streak of honesty about him."

Bootstrap smiled, "that's something, then. Though, no credit to me."

Jack decided to steer the conversation out of its current depressing tone, "and to what do I owe the pleasure of your carbuncle?"

Bootstrap gave Jack a knowing look, "Davy Jones. He sent me as an emissary."

Jack nodded. He'd kept track over the years, and was expecting a visit from the infamous pirate. "Ah, so it's you, then. He shanghaied you into service then."

Bootstrap shook his head, his eyes downcast, "I chose it." He paused, "I'm sorry for the part I played in mutinying against you, Jack." Jack waved the apology off, "Everything went wrong after that." Bootstrap explained. "I ended up cursed, doomed to the depths of the ocean, the weight of the water crushing down on me. Unable to move... unable to die Jack." The young pirate could sense the despair in Bootstrap's hoarse voice. "All I could do was think. Even the tiniest hope of escaping this fate... I would take it. Trade anything for it."

Jack nodded, "that is the kind of thinking bound to catch his attention." he replied knowingly.

"It did. Davy Jones came. Made the offer. I could spend one hundred years before the mast, with the hope that after, I would go on to a peaceful rest."

"Funny what a man do to forestall his final judgment," Jack whispered.

Bootstrap turned to him, "You made a deal with him, too, Jack. He raised the Pearl from the depths for you, and thirteen years you've been her captain."

Jack raised a finger, "technically-"

Bootstrap shook his head, "you won't be able to talk your way out of this." A small crab scuttled across the table, and Bootstrap quickly grabbed it, shoving the crustacean in his mouth. Jack cringed as he heard the shell crack between Bootstrap's teeth. "The terms that applied to me apply to you, as well. One soul, bound to crew a lifetime upon his ship."

Jack nodded, "The Flying Dutchman already has a captain, so there's no need for me."

Bootstrap sighed, before nodding. This was the answer he expected from Jack. "Then it's the Locker for you. Jones' leviathan will find you and drag the Pearl back to the depths... and you along with it."

"Any idea when Jones will release said terrible beastie?" Jack asked, trying not to sound too worried.

Bootstrap raised an arm and pointed to Jack's left hand. Jack took a step back, but it was too late. He felt a searing pain and looked down at his palm, where the dreaded Black Spot appeared. He stared at it. He was now a marked man.

"It's not a matter of how long 'till it comes after you- it's a matter of how long 'till. you're found."

Jack looked up and Bootstrap was gone. He let out a yell and ran. "On deck!" he yelled to the sleeping crew as he passed through the hold. "All hands! Lift the skin up. Scurry! Movement. I want movement."

As the groggy pirates dragged themselves to their stations, Jack looked into Pearl's back sails. "Haul those sheets!" he ordered the men. "haul 'em! Run, mates, run, as if the devil himself is on us."

While the crew was distracted, Jack wrapped his hand in a rag to cover the Black Spot. He couldn't let anyone see that he was marked.

Gibbs looked for Jack and found him hiding behind the mast. "Do we have a heading?" he asked.

"Land!" Jack yelled back.

"What port?" Gibbs asked.

"I said land! Any land!" Just then, Jack, the monkey jumped down from the rigging, landed on Jack's shoulder, and took his hat, the monkey hissing at Jack, and in return, Jack hissed back before the monkey knocked the captain's hat overboard.

"Jack's hat!" Gibbs cried, knowing how fond of it the captain was. "Bring the ship around."

"No!" Jack snapped. "Leave it."

Jack's crew stood stunned. They knew how much the hat meant to him. They could not believe he would actually not want to retrieve it. "Mind your stations, the lot of you!" Gibbs ordered, and then he turned to Jack. "For the love of mother and child, Jack, what's coming after us?"

Jack looked positively terrified, but he replied "Nothing." shaking his head quickly. He gave Gibbs a "shoo" gesture, and closed his eyes, his head resting against the mast.