۞

Bootstrap Bill Turner had been watching his dark, small companion for weeks, with a great deal of concern for the young man's lingering dark mood. He had known Jack Sparrow for quite some time, now, and the younger man had not been given to such somberness, even in those times of illness or times that he had been designated the harder physical tasks if a captain took it into his head that Jack was a lesser person for obviously being "of colour".

As Bill observed his friend's back, as he morosely swapped the forecastle deck boards with a mop and bucket, his long black hair swaying to and fro with the motion of the mop in his slender hands, Bill saw that the movement was almost automatic… the boy's thoughts were yet still back in Ireland, Bill knew. Jack had never made anyone privy to his own racial heritage, nor did anyone expect him to, but it was known among the crew of this particular ship that the lad spoke Gaelic over his skewered and oddly pronounced English, and he spoke in his native language quite often, as he talked to himself, more and more, these days.

Finally, as Jack wearily picked up the bucket and tossed its contents overboard, Bill approached him, as casually as he could, finally coming up to the boy's own port side as he stared out over the horizon, with pain in his dark eyes as he seemed completely unaware of Bill's presence. He leaned on the mop, heavily, lost in thought.

Bill tapped out his pipe on the railing, and Jack jumped a little, his eyes almost comically wide as he looked up at the taller man, who was now leaning an arm on some of the schooner's taut rigging . "So, Jack… ye've hardly said a word since you and I hooked back up in Dublin… what's eatin' at ye, boy? Its not like you to be so down in th' mouth, an' less like ye to not smile."

Jack shrugged a little, and said, "Nuffin's wrong…" Bill frowned slightly and tamped fresh tobacco into the bowl of the clay pipe, and Jack finally owned up a bit, his high, angular cheekbones colouring up and his lower lip protruding a bit, as he admitted, "Nuffin' that I can stop, Bill… That wot's eatin' at me is out of my hands…"

Turning to face Bill, the older man was startled at the pain that was in the young sailor's expression… Jack, even at only sixteen years old, had become a master at hiding his true intent from his visage, more out of self protection than deviousness, and he said, "She's marryin' anovver man! She's been 'sold' into it by her father, Bill! I tried t' get her t' run away wif me, but I haven't got anything t' offer."

Jack's shoulders sagged as he finally leaned against the railing and hung his head… an action that Bill had never seen from this proud one, and something that definitely concerned him… so that was it, Bill thought. Jack had a girl back home, and she was being married off… no wonder the boy was heartsick for having what most sailors had to offer a young lady they care about… nothing… nothing but love, and that didn't help young Jack Sparrow at all….

Bill finally sighed, deeply, and he put an arm around the lad's thin, bony shoulders, "Well, bucko, I know just what ye need…. It'll at least take your mind off o' what ye left behind… "

Jack straightened his leather tricorn over his unruly mop of hair, and sighed, as well… he doubted it.

۞

Jack grimaced, and then gasped for air, as the burning sensation went from the back of his throat clear down to his ribs, and it seemed to set his whole body on fire! The dark main room of the Faithful Bride spun around for several seconds, and his companions laughed as the young man's face turned a bright crimson to match the gypsy bandanna that he wore.

Bill was watching him closely, and small beads of sweat broke out on Jack's face, but the boy, to his credit, finally took a huge breath and said, "Arright, bring it on! I've sailed th' Seven Seas an' several lakes, an' some of 'em are bloody cold! This warms a man right up, aye? "

As the night wore on, the room spun even more to Jack's bleary eyes, but it wasn't all too unpleasant… The lights began to melt into buttery yellow pools, and the bottle became so naturally fit into the curve of his long, elegant fingers that he finally began to smile… the contents of the bottle burned, that it did, but it tasted sweet… so sweet…

He hiccupped, and Bill began to chuckle as Jack reared back his head, and began to sing a particularly odd rendition of "Greensleeves" and as he did, he nearly tipped his chair over backwards, "Alas, my love, ye do me wrong…"

Suddenly Jack sat straight up and growled, "Nay, she never did me wrong! *hic!* She has no control… I mean 'control' o'er her *hic!* sitoowayshum… her sitchoo… her… *hic!*… pweedickament!" He put the bottle to his lips and took another drink, his expressive brown eyes crossing a little as he tried to read a label on the bottle, at the same time.

"Ooo… *hic*… ow…" Jack rubbed his eyes with his free hand, and Bill said, quietly, "Ye should maybe slow down a little, lad… ye're not used to drinking like this, and…"

Jack raised a finger, and Bill grinned at him, "I may not be used t' dwinkin' like this, NOW, but *hic!* its never too late t' learn…"

And with that, Jack blearily took one more long pull from the bottle of what he was now considering a sweet nectar of the gods, and he considered putting his head down on the tabletop… but not before he kept his consciousness for one more moment…

As a small band of sailors struck up a sprightly hornpipe, young Jack Sparrow finally looked up at Bootstrap Bill Turner, and slurred, "Nor is it too late t' keep me lass' spirit from bein' crushed under, Bill… I'll go back t' Ireland, mark my *hic!* word… an' I'll take her away from it all! But fer tonight… thank ye…"

And he put his head down on a thin arm, and passed out. Bill sighed, again, and put Jack's coat over his shoulders… he was down for the count, only now and then hiccupping into the scarred tabletop that matched the boy's deeply scarred right eyebrow…. But Bill was grateful that he was able to ease the lad's feelings of sadness and incompetence for a little while, on this rainy Tortuga night…

For he knew that Jack was always good on his promises, even if he took the long way around fulfilling them. He would keep his young woman's spirit from withering away… but for tonight, Jack Sparrow had been introduced to sweetness of another kind simply to ease his sore heart… and he had handled his very first round of partaking in the wonders of Caribbean rum pretty well for a the skinny little thing that he was…

Bill sat back in his own chair, and let the night wear on… and he chuckled when his companion began so snore along to the raucous music played by the pirate band……

To be continued….