下载掌阅APP，畅读海量书库
立即打开
As a man who favored dirty saloons and dank, dark pirate ships, Jack Sparrow was more than a little out of place as he was marched through the elegant hallways of St. James’s Palace. And, though he was in the custody of two guards and under the very real threat of winding up at the gallows, he couldn’t help but salivate at the fact of so much royal treasure, just waiting to be plundered, nearby.
As was their tradition, the royal guards did not say a word as they went about their duties, making it impossible for Jack’s fast talking to get him out of trouble. They led him into a dining room with ornate furnishings, including impossibly long drapes and a massive chandelier. They shoved him into a hard wooden chair and chained him to its arms. He knew it was useless to protest so he tried a smile, which, of course, got absolutely no reaction from the guards. Once he was fully secured, they left the room and locked the door.
When he looked at what lay before him, Jack began to salivate again. Because, in addition to all the priceless art and antique furniture, the room had a long dining table that held a sumptuous array of mouthwatering food. The smell alone was intoxicating. His only “meal” that day had come from his whiskey flask, and Jack’s stomach started growling. He strained to break free from the chair.
The table was just beyond his reach, so he tried to move his chair closer to it. After a few bounces he was almost there. He stretched out his fingers, craned his neck, and practically wished the food into his gaping mouth. But he was still too far away.
If he could not move closer to the food, he decided to see if he could move the food closer to him. He leaned back in the chair and kicked the bottom of the table. A cream puff bounced offits plate and rolled toward him. Jack’s eyes widened. This could work.
He kicked the table again, and the cream puff rolled even closer. The plan was working; Jack could practically taste the pastry. After another kick, it was hanging over the edge of the table. Now, it would only take one more nudge .
Jack carefully placed the toe of his boot under the edge of the table, but just when he went to flick it, the door flew open and a column of royal guards marched in. Startled, Jack fell back and accidentally kicked too hard. The cream puff flew high into the air and landed right in the middle of the chandelier.
Jack sat there with a slightly broken heart and a very empty stomach. With the guards in the room, there was no way he could try again. The guards were followed by a host of servants and various advisers to the king. The final person to enter was none other than King George himself. The king plopped his considerable girth into a chair at the opposite end of the table and instantly began devouring the feast that Jack so desperately craved. Jack couldn’t help but notice that the dashing military hero portrayed in the mural on the wall bore little resemblance to the fat man stuffing his face at the end of the table. As with pirates, sometimes reputation and reality were two different things.
“I’ve heard of you,” the king said as he munched on a thick piece of meat.
Jack couldn’t help but feel pride at the fact the king had heard of him.
“And you know who I am,” George continued.
“The face seems familiar,” Jack answered slyly.
The king’s prime minister bellowed, “You are in the presence of George Augustus, Duke of Brunswick-Lunenburg, arch-treasurer and prince-elector of the Holy Roman Empire, King of Great Britain and Ireland.” The man gave Jack a sideways look before adding, “And of you.”
Jack smiled. “Doesn’t ring a bell .”
George gnawed a chunk off a giant turkey leg. “I am informed that you have come to London to procure a crew for your ship.”
“Vicious rumors,” Jack said. “Not true.” As he talked, Jack rattled his chains, making an annoying racket.
“I’m quite certain that’s what my minister told me,” the king replied in midchew. “ ‘Jack Sparrow has come to London to procure a crew.’ ”
“It may be true that that’s what you were told,” Jack said, rattling his chains some more. “But it’s nonetheless false that I have come to London to procure a crew.”
King George stopped eating momentarily and studied Jack. “Then you lied to me when you told me you were Jack Sparrow.”
“No, no. I am Jack Sparrow. And I am in London. But I am not here to procure a crew. That is someone else.”
“Ah,” George said, finally getting it. He turned to his guards. “You’ve brought me the wrong wastrel. Find Jack Sparrow and dispose of this impostor.”
Two guards moved toward him, and Jack held up his hands for them to stop.
“Wait! I am Jack Sparrow. The one and only.” He continued rattling his chains louder and louder, and the noise was getting on King George’s nerves. “And I am in London.”
“To procure a crew to undertake a voyage to the Fountain of Youth?” the king continued. He had finally had enough of the rattling, and he turned to the line of guards. “Someone, remove those chains.”
This was exactly what Jack had wanted all along.
A guard came over and unhooked the chains, and Jack smiled at his newfound freedom. Yes, he was still in the middle of the king’s palace surrounded by rifle-toting guards, but to Jack Sparrow these were minor obstacles. The chains had been the real hindrance.
The king took a deep breath and decided to try one last time. “At the risk of repeating myself—Jack Sparrow is in London recruiting a crew to return to the Fountain of Youth?”
“Stipulated,” Jack said, rising from his chair. He was desperate to grab a piece of food before the king ate it all.
“Have you a map?” asked the king.
Jack reached into his jacket pocket and, much to his surprise, the map was not there. He wasn’t sure where it had gone, but he was relieved that the king’s men wouldn’t get it.
“No,” he said.
“Where is it?” demanded the prime minister.
“The truth? I lost it. Quite recently, in fact.” In his mind he raced through what had happened after he’d shown the map to Joshamee Gibbs. All that he could figure was that Gibbs had somehow lifted it when they were in the paddy wagon. Part of him was disappointed that Gibbs would steal from him, but another part was impressed that he had lifted it so well.
George selected a loaf of bread from the table. “I have a report. Trustworthy. The Spanish have located the Fountain of Youth.” He started to angrily tear the loaf into small chunks. “I will not have some melancholy Spanish monarch gain eternal life!” He continued shredding the bread and pounded it into flat little pieces. “I trust my demonstration has been clear.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “You’ve clearly demonstrated something.”
With the king momentarily flustered, his prime minister stepped forward.
“You do know the way to the Fountain?”
Jack nodded. “Absolutely. Yes!”
“And you could lead an expedition ?”
Jack was feeling more confident by the moment. Suddenly he was of value. He moved his chair closer, sat down, and propped his feet up on a corner of the table. “You’ll be providing a crew and a ship?” he said, smiling.
“And a captain,” added the king.
Jack’s smile disappeared. He thought he would be the captain.
“We believe we have found just the man for the job,” the minister said.
He motioned to a guard, who opened the door. Jack sat upright and heard footsteps approaching. Actually it was a footstep followed by a longer scraping sound. Then another footstep followed by another long scrape. This pattern continued until the shadowy captain emerged from the darkness, his tall frame filling the doorway.
He wore a Royal Navy officer’s hat but the coat of a privateer, which meant he was a private person who captained a ship with the same authority and power as a true military official. He leaned on a crutch and his right leg was wooden from the knee down, which explained the long scraping noise when he walked. And while the clothes and peg leg were new, the face was one that Jack had known for years. It was that of his longtime nemesis, Hector Barbossa.
“Why is that man not in chains?” Barbossa demanded as he continued step-scraping into the dining hall. “He must be manacled at once.”
“At the center of my palace?” scoffed the king with a laugh. “Hardly.”
“Jack Sparrow be easy enough to catch,” Barbossa warned. “It’s holding him that’s the problem.”
“Hector,” Jack said with a friendly boom, hoping to direct the conversation away from the topic of chaining him again. “Good to see a pirate make something of himself.”
“Privateer,” corrected Barbossa. “On a sanctioned mission, under the authority and protection of the crown.”
Jack quickly got to the point that most interested him. He wanted to know about the ship that both of them had captained. “What became of the Pearl ?”
“Lost her,” Barbossa said with true remorse in his voice. “Lost the Pearl . Lost my leg. I be genuine contrite on both counts.”
Jack arched an eyebrow. “Lost?”
“I defended her mightily, but she be sunk, nonetheless.”
There was one unbreakable rule of pirates and naval officers alike. So it didn’t sit well with Jack that the ship he loved dearly had sunk, yet its captain had not gone down with it. He lunged toward Barbossa only to be held back by two guards.
“If that ship be lost properly,” Jack said, face-to-face with Barbossa, “you should be lost with her.”
“Aye,” Hector said softly. “In a kinder world.”
The guards now had their rifles trained on Jack’s head. He stepped back.
“Captain Barbossa,” interrupted the king. “Has our situation not been made clear? Each second we tarry, the Spanish outdistance us. I have every confidence you will prevail and be rewarded with the high station you desire.”
Barbossa turned to the king and bowed.
Jack could not believe his eyes, a dread pirate like Hector Barbossa bowing to a fat king munching on a turkey leg. “You, sir, have stooped .”
Barbossa shook his head in disagreement. “Jack, our sands be all but run. Where’s the harm in joining the winning side? Shorter hours, better pay. You meet a nicer class of person. And, it’s clean.”
“But, Hector,” Jack said, still shaking his head, “the hat.”
He motioned toward Barbossa’s prim and proper hat, and when the guards looked at it as well, they were distracted just long enough for Jack to make his move. He grabbed the guards and slammed them together. Their rifles fired, bullets hitting the massive chandelier. A rope snapped, and the chandelier started swinging wildly.
The room in sudden chaos, the guards first moved to block the door. But that wasn’t where Jack was headed. Instead, he jumped up on the table, ran along it, and leaped onto the chandelier just as it swung past. Flying above the heads of the guards, Jack flung himself up to a second-floor balcony in an amazing gymnastic maneuver. As if that wasn’t enough, he managed to pluck the cream puff from the chandelier as he went.
He popped the cream puff into his mouth and gave a quick wave before disappearing through a second-story window. The guards stood momentarily frozen, dumbfounded by Jack’s brazen move. After a moment they chased after him, but it was too late. He ran along a rooftop, jumped over the castle gate, and quickly disappeared into the crowded London streets.
“He escaped,” King George said, disbelieving but still eating.
Just then the chandelier crashed down in the center of the table, and Hector Barbossa resisted the urge to say, “I told you so.” Instead, he offered, “Round one to Jack Sparrow.”