Wherever the Wind Will Blow
The story of Jack Sparrow's early life and how he may have come to be who he is today.
Disclaimer: Jack Sparrow isn't mine, but you know of course I wish he was. I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean either. I'm just a fan--props to Disney and Johnny.
"JACK!"
A bleery eye opened, then quickly shut against the harsh light streaming in through the open window. A woman with dark brown hair appeared in the doorway, her hands on her hips. The boy whimpered and rolled over in his small bed, burying his face in the thin pillow. Maybe if he closed his eyes and lay very still, she wouldn't see him.
"Jack Thompson, you lazy boy, you shoulda' been up an hour ago! Get yerself outta' tha' bed, or I'll personally remove you meself."
The boy grumbled and raised a head of dark hair from the bed, looking about the room wearily. The woman continued, and her voice cut through his skull, the noise causing him to blink in irritation and confusion.
"Did you 'ear a word I've said, boy?"
"Eh?"
"I said," she responded angrily, "Get yerself dressed. We've work to do. I've just received word tha' says Captain Maynard Hawk's crew just came into port 'round dawn. So tonight'll be a busy night for us, savvy? Go get the tavern ready and opened and you can handle the servin' drinks and meals fer now, Jack, and this evenin' some of the lasses'll be readied up and give you an 'and."
"Aye," said Jack, swinging his legs onto the floor and running a hand through his matted black hair. "Ah, me 'ead..."
"Jack..." said the woman, eyes narrowing.
"Yes, mum?"
"You've been into the liquor, 'aven't you? 'Aven't you, boy?!"
Jack's brow furrowed worriedly and he held out his hands, fingers twitching as if to explain the words of defense that weren't quite coming to mind.
"Well, you see...--" His head was snapped back with a loud crack as his mother's hand connected with his cheek.
"Thas' not yours to just go abou' drinkin' as you please! That is for the customers, Jack, as you know well! You are costin' us money! Can you pay for those drinks, Jack?" This demand was met with silence. Jack continued staring forward in the direction the slap had left him facing. "I din' think so."
"It wasn't me, mum. T'was Barney 'oo did it."
"I didn't know the cat was an alcoholic."
"'E just wanted to taste a bit, outta curiosity, thas' all. Curiosity's a healthy attribute in a boy, they say, but then they also say curiosity killed the cat, so I warned 'im, I did, but 'e wouldn' listen to me o' course - nobody does.. So I let 'im 'ave it, agains' me better judgement, and he decided he liked it. And once e'd made up 'is mind, there was no stoppin' 'im."
Bethany Thompson gave her son a hard look and placed her hands on her hips. "So you're telling me a bottle of rum 'as gone missin' on account of a cat takin' a liking to it?"
Jack looked at her innocently for a moment, then nodded his head eagerly. He wondered vaguely how he didn't see the slap coming as he rubbed his sore cheek tenderly.
The woman threw a bundle of clothes at him angrily and stormed out of the room, her shouts continuing down the hall. "Don' know why I bother, I really don'. I give 'im birth, and let 'im live on 'ere with me twelve years, barely earnin' 'is keep, an' what does 'e do? Drinks 'alf a bottle of rum, sleeps late leavin' me runnin' after 'im to get the bar open and tells lies like nothin' else. Men are all the same..."
Jack sighed and got to his feet and stretched dramatically in a feline fashion. He paused, contemplating the clothing his mother had left him, then sighed and pulled a shirt over his head.