FANFIC: Blame it on Rio! (Prologue & Chapter 1)
Title: Blame it on Rio! (Prologue and Chapter 1)
Author: Krys
Characters: Captain Jack Sparrow, Hector Barbossa
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: POTC and its lovely characters belong to Disney. I just enjoy playing with them.
Summary: The story starts at the hanging in CotBP, and Jack thinks back to one of his many crimes.
Author's Notes: This is one of what I call my series of “Under the Category of Questions NOT Answered”, being tales of what happened before the first movie. This particular story focuses on how Jack becomes a pirate and his first meeting with Hector Barbossa.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The voice, reciting the list of his crimes against the crown, easily heard over the noise of the crowd gathered to watch this event.
“For your willful commission of crimes against the crown…”
The voice droned on, reciting said list of crimes.
Alleged crimes.
“…impersonating a cleric of the church of England…”
“Ah, yes,” he muttered, a grin crossing his face as his mind flashed back to that particular event. It had happened in Rio de Janeiro.
He remembered a tavern, a bottle of rum. Well… maybe more than one.
The challenge issued.
To steal the cross of Saint Sebastian, a relic of the saint who was the protector from the plague and Patron Saint of Rio.
He chuckled, recalling his victorious return. He’d won. But had he? That was what had started him on this path ending here.
******************
Chapter One
******************
He flipped a coin idly as he considered his options, not that he had many. He had his ship but no crew. That alone posed his biggest problem. Of course the fact that his reputation had not preceded him was another. No one knew him. Here he sat, Captain Jack Sparrow, and none knew of his worth, his value, his expertise at the helm. The timeliness of his deliveries, his intelligence, his ability to defend his ship against pirates. He’d never lost a cargo yet.
If Cutler Beckett walked through that door right now he knew for certain he would pull out his pistol and shoot him dead, and damn the consequences. That man had tainted his life.
Not really wanting to dwell on that series of events that had resulted in his being here in the Caribbean with a ship and no crew, he went back to flipping his coin and considering his options.
Pirate or merchant? Which would he be? Privateer was out. He would never find backers for that sort of venture.
His mind returned to the litany of his virtues. He was clean, well mannered and honest. Not exactly pirate material, but being simply a captain of a merchant ship had led him to this place. He considered pirate. His bravado would help, and of course the brand burnt upon his arm. He scowled fiercely, knowing he’d not deserved to be thus marked. Branded a pirate for refusing to transport a cargo of slaves? His fist pounded the table.
“Darlin’, you look like you lost your best friend,” A sultry voice purred in his ear.
He looked up at the woman who had spoken. A dark-haired creature stared down at him. She wore a red dress that had seen better days, but her brown eyes glowed with interest. He heaved a sigh and shook his head. “Nay lass. I have my ship, just find myself in need of a crew.”
“A crew?” She laughed, her voice a pleasant sound that refreshed his jaded mind. “’At be all ye need?” She leaned over treating him to a fine view, one he’d not seen in months. He looked her over more closely. Older than she first appeared, or life had made her appear so. Lines etched her face. She’d lived a hard life but had managed to keep her figure.
“Well…” He hesitated then with a twinkle in his eye. “A bottle of your finest might be in order.”
A pout crossed her face as she straightened up. “A bottle? If ‘at be all…?” Her eyes strayed to another patron.
Noticing the look in her eyes, “To start of course,” he grinned, a suggestion that more might be in order later.
That brought a saucy smile to her lips. “Ah, I see.”
As she turned and left, he went back to flipping his coin.
It all boiled down to the fact that he needed a crew. With no crew, the ship sat empty with no cargo. No chance of cargo. Or adventure.
Adventure.
Yes, that word had carried him away from his former stomping grounds, where the EITC ruled. Here he figured he stood to gain more because he was unknown. But being unknown, he couldn’t find what he needed. No one was about to trust him. It was, he reflected, a vicious cycle.
Unfortunately the meager crew he’d managed to round up for this voyage had scattered to the four winds the instant they’d made port. So now he sat in this dingy tavern, waiting on his drink as he contemplated what his next course of action ought to be.
The saucy wench returned with his bottle. As she set it down upon the wooden table, she smiled slyly at him. She’d managed to clean up a bit he realized. She even smelled better. The dress she wore was still the same, but her intentions to attract him were obvious.
Her promptness surprised him, until he realized the value of the coin he idly flipped. Chuckling, he tossed it at her as she set the bottle on the table. Then he saw what it contained.
“Rum?” His lips curled up in distaste. The reputation of this drink had even made it to India. “Have you nothing better?”
Her husky laugh warmed his heart. “Darlin’, it be the only thing ‘e ain’t watered down.”
“Ah, that is how it is,” He opened the bottle and poured some into his mug. Sniffing it gingerly, he stared into it.
“It ain’t ‘at bad, darlin’,” She purred. “Trust me.”
“Aye, well…” Lifting the mug he took a tentative sip. The smooth liquid piqued his tongue, as a taste of exotic fruits danced across his taste buds. He found he actually liked it. “It is good,” He looked up at the woman.
She grinned and tossed her long hair over her shoulder. “Best in the house. Comes from Tortuga. An’ if ye be lookin’ fer a good crew, ‘at be where ye ought to go.”
“Tortuga?” Even the name sounded exciting. “Aye, Tortuga it is. But first I must find myself a crew in order to get to Tortuga. Rather hard to sail my ship by myself,” His eyes scanned the patrons currently in the place. There were not many who might even pass for sailors. Most were simple folk, here to enjoy a drink with friends it seemed.
She started to lift her wooden tray to head on to another customer when she paused. “The night is yet early. Stick ‘round long enough, darlin’. Some be bound to wander in ‘at be lookin’ for a ship.”
*********************
Stomping his feet, Hector Barbossa looked back at the tub that had picked them up off the coast of Venezuela. Were it not for them, he and his crew would still be stranded. A false smile crossed his face as he waved at the Portuguese captain. Jerking around, he stalked through the pouring rain, his crew trailing in his wake.
As they wound their way through the muddy streets, he could hear his crew’s rumblings behind him.
“Think we be findin’ a new ship?”
“I dunno, ain’t like there be much ta choose from out there.”
“Aye, an’ anyone know where we be?”
“Rio.”
“Rio? I know this place where the girls are…”
“We be needin’ a ship, not wimmen.”
“Don’ ye be worr’t, the cap’n, ‘e be sure ta find us a ship. If there ain’t a good ‘un ‘ere, why trust ‘im to borrow one an’ we’ll go ta another port an’ find us a better un. ‘E ain’t let us down yet.”
Several of them laughed raucously, happy to once again be amongst humanity.
The storm had taken them by surprise. Stronger than he’d even expected, it had driven their ship into the shoals off the coast and destroyed it. They’d been lucky to survive. Now they had little swag or coin left but what they had managed to salvage from the rocky bottom while they’d waited for salvation in the form of a ship passing by.
Reaching a ramshackle building, Barbossa entered. The tavern was half-filled with people, most sitting and chatting with one another, except for one man sitting alone in the corner, a bottle of rum in front of him. Locals by the looks of it.
Water dripped from his sodden clothing pooling at his feet, but he did not care. Not seeing what he needed nor wanted, he’d considere leaving but for his crew. They’d crowded into the entry and were gawking at the women. They’d not seen a female for months. He figured it might be best to let them drink here while he scouted for what he wanted.
A slight jerk of his chin was all he required to give the orders. The tall black man who served as his boson snarled at the others. “Don’t go looking for trouble,” In particular, he glared at one pair, a tall lanky fellow accompanied by a short stocky chap. “Particularly you two!”
The two in question sidled past Bo’sun, for that was the name he went by, any other name long forgotten. A hint of a giggle erupted from one as he waggled his fingers. “No trouble, we shall be right over there,” He pointed to a table off to one side.
Barbossa simply ignored them all. Swaggering over to a table, he sat down. The gal who’d waited upon Jack stepped up and smiled. “Wot be yer pleasure cap’n?”
His eyes traveled up to meet hers. “Now, that is indeed an interesting question, missy. Be ye certain ye wish the answer?”
She backed away slightly, his menacing tone upsetting her. “Sorry…”
“No need to be sorry,” An odd smile crossed his face as he realized he had disturbed her. “We have simply run across a streak of bad luck. Rum. Followed by whatever passes for a meal here.”
She let her breath out. “Seems ter be the problem o’ the day,” he overheard her mutter as she whirled away to get his order.
When she finally returned with his rum, he grabbed her wrist before she could take off. “Explain yourself missy.”
Her eyes flew wide open. “Wot?” Practically a squeak.
“You said, ‘Problem of the day’, why?”
She leaned into him and smiled. “Oh ‘at. Wull ‘at gent in the back ‘e gots himself a problem too. Just odd ta git two o’ you in ‘ere wif problems. Ain’t often ‘at ‘appens, even though I told ‘im ‘e were bound ta find wot ‘e needed.”
“Really? And what is his problem?” He was curious, as he’d been studying the man. He clearly wasn’t from around here. Appeared to be more of a merchant than anything, but a merchant down on his luck for he was unkempt.
“Oh, well, ‘e were goin’ on ‘bout ‘ow ‘e needs a crew for ‘is ship,” She leant closer to Barbossa as if to tell him a secret. “Paid fer ‘is rum wif a gold coin.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “A gold coin?” He handed her one. “Like this?”
Snatching the coin before he could change his mind, she smiled.n “Aye! More rum?”
“Keep it flowing,” He rose and walked across to the lonely man.
Author: Krys
Characters: Captain Jack Sparrow, Hector Barbossa
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: POTC and its lovely characters belong to Disney. I just enjoy playing with them.
Summary: The story starts at the hanging in CotBP, and Jack thinks back to one of his many crimes.
Author's Notes: This is one of what I call my series of “Under the Category of Questions NOT Answered”, being tales of what happened before the first movie. This particular story focuses on how Jack becomes a pirate and his first meeting with Hector Barbossa.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The voice, reciting the list of his crimes against the crown, easily heard over the noise of the crowd gathered to watch this event.
“For your willful commission of crimes against the crown…”
The voice droned on, reciting said list of crimes.
Alleged crimes.
“…impersonating a cleric of the church of England…”
“Ah, yes,” he muttered, a grin crossing his face as his mind flashed back to that particular event. It had happened in Rio de Janeiro.
He remembered a tavern, a bottle of rum. Well… maybe more than one.
The challenge issued.
To steal the cross of Saint Sebastian, a relic of the saint who was the protector from the plague and Patron Saint of Rio.
He chuckled, recalling his victorious return. He’d won. But had he? That was what had started him on this path ending here.
******************
Chapter One
******************
He flipped a coin idly as he considered his options, not that he had many. He had his ship but no crew. That alone posed his biggest problem. Of course the fact that his reputation had not preceded him was another. No one knew him. Here he sat, Captain Jack Sparrow, and none knew of his worth, his value, his expertise at the helm. The timeliness of his deliveries, his intelligence, his ability to defend his ship against pirates. He’d never lost a cargo yet.
If Cutler Beckett walked through that door right now he knew for certain he would pull out his pistol and shoot him dead, and damn the consequences. That man had tainted his life.
Not really wanting to dwell on that series of events that had resulted in his being here in the Caribbean with a ship and no crew, he went back to flipping his coin and considering his options.
Pirate or merchant? Which would he be? Privateer was out. He would never find backers for that sort of venture.
His mind returned to the litany of his virtues. He was clean, well mannered and honest. Not exactly pirate material, but being simply a captain of a merchant ship had led him to this place. He considered pirate. His bravado would help, and of course the brand burnt upon his arm. He scowled fiercely, knowing he’d not deserved to be thus marked. Branded a pirate for refusing to transport a cargo of slaves? His fist pounded the table.
“Darlin’, you look like you lost your best friend,” A sultry voice purred in his ear.
He looked up at the woman who had spoken. A dark-haired creature stared down at him. She wore a red dress that had seen better days, but her brown eyes glowed with interest. He heaved a sigh and shook his head. “Nay lass. I have my ship, just find myself in need of a crew.”
“A crew?” She laughed, her voice a pleasant sound that refreshed his jaded mind. “’At be all ye need?” She leaned over treating him to a fine view, one he’d not seen in months. He looked her over more closely. Older than she first appeared, or life had made her appear so. Lines etched her face. She’d lived a hard life but had managed to keep her figure.
“Well…” He hesitated then with a twinkle in his eye. “A bottle of your finest might be in order.”
A pout crossed her face as she straightened up. “A bottle? If ‘at be all…?” Her eyes strayed to another patron.
Noticing the look in her eyes, “To start of course,” he grinned, a suggestion that more might be in order later.
That brought a saucy smile to her lips. “Ah, I see.”
As she turned and left, he went back to flipping his coin.
It all boiled down to the fact that he needed a crew. With no crew, the ship sat empty with no cargo. No chance of cargo. Or adventure.
Adventure.
Yes, that word had carried him away from his former stomping grounds, where the EITC ruled. Here he figured he stood to gain more because he was unknown. But being unknown, he couldn’t find what he needed. No one was about to trust him. It was, he reflected, a vicious cycle.
Unfortunately the meager crew he’d managed to round up for this voyage had scattered to the four winds the instant they’d made port. So now he sat in this dingy tavern, waiting on his drink as he contemplated what his next course of action ought to be.
The saucy wench returned with his bottle. As she set it down upon the wooden table, she smiled slyly at him. She’d managed to clean up a bit he realized. She even smelled better. The dress she wore was still the same, but her intentions to attract him were obvious.
Her promptness surprised him, until he realized the value of the coin he idly flipped. Chuckling, he tossed it at her as she set the bottle on the table. Then he saw what it contained.
“Rum?” His lips curled up in distaste. The reputation of this drink had even made it to India. “Have you nothing better?”
Her husky laugh warmed his heart. “Darlin’, it be the only thing ‘e ain’t watered down.”
“Ah, that is how it is,” He opened the bottle and poured some into his mug. Sniffing it gingerly, he stared into it.
“It ain’t ‘at bad, darlin’,” She purred. “Trust me.”
“Aye, well…” Lifting the mug he took a tentative sip. The smooth liquid piqued his tongue, as a taste of exotic fruits danced across his taste buds. He found he actually liked it. “It is good,” He looked up at the woman.
She grinned and tossed her long hair over her shoulder. “Best in the house. Comes from Tortuga. An’ if ye be lookin’ fer a good crew, ‘at be where ye ought to go.”
“Tortuga?” Even the name sounded exciting. “Aye, Tortuga it is. But first I must find myself a crew in order to get to Tortuga. Rather hard to sail my ship by myself,” His eyes scanned the patrons currently in the place. There were not many who might even pass for sailors. Most were simple folk, here to enjoy a drink with friends it seemed.
She started to lift her wooden tray to head on to another customer when she paused. “The night is yet early. Stick ‘round long enough, darlin’. Some be bound to wander in ‘at be lookin’ for a ship.”
*********************
Stomping his feet, Hector Barbossa looked back at the tub that had picked them up off the coast of Venezuela. Were it not for them, he and his crew would still be stranded. A false smile crossed his face as he waved at the Portuguese captain. Jerking around, he stalked through the pouring rain, his crew trailing in his wake.
As they wound their way through the muddy streets, he could hear his crew’s rumblings behind him.
“Think we be findin’ a new ship?”
“I dunno, ain’t like there be much ta choose from out there.”
“Aye, an’ anyone know where we be?”
“Rio.”
“Rio? I know this place where the girls are…”
“We be needin’ a ship, not wimmen.”
“Don’ ye be worr’t, the cap’n, ‘e be sure ta find us a ship. If there ain’t a good ‘un ‘ere, why trust ‘im to borrow one an’ we’ll go ta another port an’ find us a better un. ‘E ain’t let us down yet.”
Several of them laughed raucously, happy to once again be amongst humanity.
The storm had taken them by surprise. Stronger than he’d even expected, it had driven their ship into the shoals off the coast and destroyed it. They’d been lucky to survive. Now they had little swag or coin left but what they had managed to salvage from the rocky bottom while they’d waited for salvation in the form of a ship passing by.
Reaching a ramshackle building, Barbossa entered. The tavern was half-filled with people, most sitting and chatting with one another, except for one man sitting alone in the corner, a bottle of rum in front of him. Locals by the looks of it.
Water dripped from his sodden clothing pooling at his feet, but he did not care. Not seeing what he needed nor wanted, he’d considere leaving but for his crew. They’d crowded into the entry and were gawking at the women. They’d not seen a female for months. He figured it might be best to let them drink here while he scouted for what he wanted.
A slight jerk of his chin was all he required to give the orders. The tall black man who served as his boson snarled at the others. “Don’t go looking for trouble,” In particular, he glared at one pair, a tall lanky fellow accompanied by a short stocky chap. “Particularly you two!”
The two in question sidled past Bo’sun, for that was the name he went by, any other name long forgotten. A hint of a giggle erupted from one as he waggled his fingers. “No trouble, we shall be right over there,” He pointed to a table off to one side.
Barbossa simply ignored them all. Swaggering over to a table, he sat down. The gal who’d waited upon Jack stepped up and smiled. “Wot be yer pleasure cap’n?”
His eyes traveled up to meet hers. “Now, that is indeed an interesting question, missy. Be ye certain ye wish the answer?”
She backed away slightly, his menacing tone upsetting her. “Sorry…”
“No need to be sorry,” An odd smile crossed his face as he realized he had disturbed her. “We have simply run across a streak of bad luck. Rum. Followed by whatever passes for a meal here.”
She let her breath out. “Seems ter be the problem o’ the day,” he overheard her mutter as she whirled away to get his order.
When she finally returned with his rum, he grabbed her wrist before she could take off. “Explain yourself missy.”
Her eyes flew wide open. “Wot?” Practically a squeak.
“You said, ‘Problem of the day’, why?”
She leaned into him and smiled. “Oh ‘at. Wull ‘at gent in the back ‘e gots himself a problem too. Just odd ta git two o’ you in ‘ere wif problems. Ain’t often ‘at ‘appens, even though I told ‘im ‘e were bound ta find wot ‘e needed.”
“Really? And what is his problem?” He was curious, as he’d been studying the man. He clearly wasn’t from around here. Appeared to be more of a merchant than anything, but a merchant down on his luck for he was unkempt.
“Oh, well, ‘e were goin’ on ‘bout ‘ow ‘e needs a crew for ‘is ship,” She leant closer to Barbossa as if to tell him a secret. “Paid fer ‘is rum wif a gold coin.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “A gold coin?” He handed her one. “Like this?”
Snatching the coin before he could change his mind, she smiled.n “Aye! More rum?”
“Keep it flowing,” He rose and walked across to the lonely man.