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Jack Sparrow didn’t much care for London. He’d been there for less than a day and already had King George, the prime minister, Hector Barbossa, a high-ranking judge, and a large portion of the population wanting him to hang from the gallows. And, while a lifetime of pirating had certainly earned him a dubious reputation, it seemed that someone posing as Jack Sparrow was going around town making matters worse.
And the weather was awful, too.
So, as a dark and dreary London sky became a darker and drearier London night, Jack headed for the wharf to find a pub called the Captain’s Daughter. When they were in the back of the paddy wagon, Joshamee Gibbs had said the impostor Jack was supposed to recruit his crew there. The real Jack figured that if he made a surprise visit to the pub he might be able to get to the bottom of things.
The Captain’s Daughter was loud and dirty and had a foul stench about it. It was filled with ruffians, highwaymen, and would-be pirates, who all seemed on the verge of breaking into fights for no particular reason. In other words, Jack felt right at home when he walked through the doors. This was certainly a much better fit for him than the Old Bailey courthouse or St. James’s Palace.
He surveyed the scene and quickly set his gaze on a line of sailors. They were waiting by a door to a warehouse at the rear of the pub. The door was guarded by a beefy sailor who sat on a stool and strummed a mandolin to pass the time. One at a time he’d let the next in line enter the warehouse. Jack bumped into an old salt drinking ale and asked him what was going on in back.
“Those folks over there,” said the old sailor as he took another swig from his tankard, “they have a ship and are looking for able hands.”
Jack winked at the old man and disappeared into the crowd.
Scrum was the name of the sailor playing the mandolin, and he was quite skilled at it. He finished a song with an impressive flourish and half expected a round of applause from those in line. Instead, the only response he got was a knife pressed against his throat.
Jack had come up from behind and now held the tip of his blade against the young man’s Adam’s apple. “I hear you be recruiting a crew,” Jack whispered in his ear.
“Aye,” answered Scrum, carefully trying not to move his Adam’s apple as he spoke. “That is, Jack Sparrow be putting together a modest venture.”
“Don’t you know who I am?” Jack asked.
Scrum let out a nervous laugh. “Hey! Here’s a bloke what forgot his own name!”
Just then the door to the warehouse opened, and a young pirate burst out with a happy smile on his face. He’d just signed on with who he thought was the famous Captain Jack Sparrow. “I’m in, boys!” he said to the others in line. “Who’ll buy a sailor a drink?” The pirates in line congratulated him and slapped him on the back.
Jack looked through the still open door and spied a shadow on the far wall. He tilted his head, not sure what to make of the fact that this shadow looked exactly like his own.
Slipping past Scrum and into the room, he could hardly believe what he found: standing in front of him was none other than Jack Sparrow! Or at least someone who looked exactly like Jack Sparrow, with the same outfit, the same dreadlocked hair, and the same swagger. It was as if he were looking in a mirror, although a shadow obscured the impostor’s face.
“You’ve stolen me,” the real Jack said angrily, drawing his sword. “And I’m here to take myself back.”
The phony Jack did the same, and within seconds Jack found himself in the odd position of having a sword fight with himself. Because, in addition to looking just like him, the impostor fought just like him as well. They matched each other thrust for thrust, lunge for lunge. Even their footwork was identical.
“Stop that!” an annoyed Jack implored.
The sounds of their clashing swords filled the warehouse as they climbed up ramps, over barrels, and under support beams. Through it all, the impostor fought just as Jack would.
“Only one person alive knows that move,” Jack pronounced as his alter ego perfectly mimicked one of his most difficult maneuvers.
The next move, however, was one that Jack would never have predicted—the impostor leaned forward and kissed him square on the lips. Suddenly a smile came over Sparrow’s face as he recognized it as a kiss he last knew many years ago. The mystery was solved.
“Hello, Angelica,” he said as he removed the impostor’s hat and fake beard to reveal that the other Jack was actually a beautiful woman.
“Hello, Jack,” she replied. “Are you impressed? I think I almost killed you once or twice there.”
“I am touched at this most sincere form of flattery, ” he said. “But why?”
Angelica laughed. “You were the only pirate I thought I could pass for.”
Jack thought for a moment. “That is not a compliment,” he said.
“Don’t worry,” she told him. “I have long since forgiven you.”
“For leaving you?”
Angelica wagged a finger in his face. “Recall that I left you.”
Jack shrugged. “A gentleman allows a lady to maintain her fictions.”
“And I love this particular fiction,” she shot back, proud of her scheme. “First mate Jack Sparrow! As long as my sailors get their money, they will put up with any number of peculiarities.”
Jack shook his head. As far as he was concerned, being impersonated was bad, but being impersonated as a first mate was downright unacceptable. “I will be impersonated as captain, nothing less,” he declared.
Angelica laughed. “For that you need a ship, and as it turns out I have one.”
Jack nodded. “I could use a ship.”
Scrum opened the door and nervously leaned in. “Milady, I see unseamanlike fellows of the officious -looking nature.” He pointed to the front of the pub. Jack and Angelica looked out and saw that the captain of the royal guard and some of his men were entering. It would not take them long to make their way back to the warehouse, so Angelica hurried the conversation along.
“I hear tell you’ve been to the Fountain,” she said. “The Fountain of Youth.”
“There be a lot of hear-telling going on these days,” Jack answered. “Regarding the Fountain—waste of time, really. Unless you have a few very specific items of the hard-to-acquire nature.”
Before Jack could continue, Scrum opened the door and interrupted. “They’re coming.”
“Friends of yours?” she asked Jack.
Jack smiled. “I may have unintentionally slighted some king or other.”
“You have not changed,” she said with frustration.
“Implying the need,” he responded rakishly .
They could hear the guards getting closer, and Angelica realized that they didn’t have much time to resolve their history, so she just got straight to the point.
“You betrayed me. You used me!” she exclaimed. “And what were you doing in a Spanish convent, anyway?”
Jack shrugged. “Honest mistake.”
The guards burst into the room, forcing Jack and Angelica to draw their swords and fight side by side. Despite the sword battle, they continued their argument.
“I blame you for this current state of affairs,” he said as he blocked one guard’s advance. “Your impersonating has caused me a good amount of grief.”
Angelica wasn’t interested in the present as she still had issues regarding the past. “You ruined my life!” She stopped momentarily to make this point and in the process almost took a sword to the heart, only to be saved by Jack. It quickly became apparent that they could not argue with each other and successfully fight the royal guards. They had to pick sides.
“May I suggest an alliance ?” she offered as she slashed a rope, which unleashed a stack of barrels that came crashing into the guards. When they hit the floor, the barrels exploded and showered the room with beer.
“Aye,” Jack said, agreeing to her offer and trying to drink in a quick sip of the airborne liquor. “Their enemy’s enemy is my friend.”
Angelica signaled toward the rear of the warehouse. “This way!”
She led him through a maze of crates and barrels until they reached a trapdoor.
“So what is it?” she asked, stopping momentarily.
“What is what?”
“About the Fountain that we need?” she asked, referring to the conversation they were having when the guards interrupted.
According to the legend, some very specific items were necessary to perform the ritual of the Fountain of Youth. “You wouldn’t happen to have two chalices. Silver. Once rumored to be in the possession of Ponce de León.”
She shook her head no and slashed the door open. They could see the Thames River flowing beneath them.
“Desperate disease ...” she said.
“Requires dangerous remedy,” he completed.
They jumped through the opening and came perilously close to the wooden pilings before they splashed down deep into the murky water. Under the surface, they held their breath and started swimming downriver. When they finally came up for air they resumed their argument right where they had left off.
“How could you say I ruined your life?” he asked as they crawled up onto the riverbank.
“You know exactly how!” she said as she gave his face a little push into the mud.
He was about to rebut the charge but then thought better ofit. “I do,” he admitted.
“Ha!” blurted Angelica, happy to have won something from Jack.
“Oh, and something else,” he said.
“You never got over me?” she said flirtingly.
“Regarding the Fountain,” he said with a laugh. “There are stories, you know. Rumors that the ritual requires ...”
“A mermaid,” she said. “I know.”
Suddenly, Jack felt a sharp pain in his neck. He reached up and plucked out a voodoo dart. His world started spinning, and the last thing he saw was a large man, his eyes completely dead and white, hulking over him.
Just before Jack fainted he uttered one final word: “Zombie.”