The Call of a Sparrow

The Call of a Sparrow

Summary: Will was not fast enough to save Jack at the gallows, so he was forced to watch as Jack died by the noose. He blames himself for the pirate’s death, until a mysterious letter from Cotton’s parrot prompts him to sail immediately for Tortuga.

Disclaimer: This movie and all of its characters do not belong to me. But I do have a Jack Sparrow poster! Yay!

Rating: R, so I can do what I want, right? Heck yeah!!

Warnings: Don’t really know yet.

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Drums pounded a steady rhythm, as Captain Jack Sparrow stood on the trap door of the gallows, the thick ropes around his wrists chafing his skin. He rolled his eyes in annoyance, frowning, as the man reading his crimes failed to recognize his title as captain.

“This is wrong,” Elizabeth whispered with a frown of her own on her face.

The governor glanced sympathetically at his daughter. “Commodore Norrington is bound by the law, as are we all.”

Only the bow of the commodore’s head indicated his regret. Elizabeth deepened her frown and refocused her attention on the gallows.

“…Impersonating a cleric of the Church of England…”

Jack grinned, laughing a little as he recollected how well he had planned that particular escapade. He looked over to the burly man next to him, wanting him to react similarly, but his laugh turned nervous and faded when he saw the heated glare on the man’s face. Looking back down at the wood below him, he only vaguely listened as the remainder of his trespasses was listed.

In the crowd Will heard the faint squawk of a bird and he glanced up, his eyes seeing from under his large new hat the colorful parrot usually perched on Mr. Cotton’s shoulder. Showing none of his inner elation, he turned and started for the rear of the gathering of people, the white feather of his hat unintentionally brushing a woman in the face. He stood in front of Elizabeth and addressed a greeting to each of those standing with her, then looked the governor’s daughter squarely in the eyes.

“I should have told you every day from the moment I met you.” He paused. “I love you.”

He turned before she could respond and moved through the crowd, his hand on the hilt of his sword. He watched, his lips a thin line, as the noose was draped over Jack’s head and tightened around his neck. Drumsticks beat faster on canvas, bringing tense anticipation to the audience. Feeling time slip from his fingertips, Will pushed the townsfolk out of the way, demanding a path for himself.

The large man who placed the rope around Jack’s neck wasted no time as he pulled the lever, opening the trap door beneath the pirate’s feet. Will had his sword clutched tightly in his hand, gritting his teeth as the crowd refused to move fast enough. He rushed toward the gallows, determined to free his friend from the death’s hold. Glancing up quickly at the wooden structure, he stopped suddenly in his tracks and the gathered people gasped quietly.

Silence descended upon the crowd as the infamous Jack Sparrow gurgled, the noose tightened fatally around his neck, suffocating him. A look of shock stained his features as he struggled to regain his rapidly fading breath. His kohl-rimmed eyes were wide, staring out at the group, locking specifically with those of Will Turner’s.

The grip Will had on his sword loosened, and he barely heard the steel drop to the ground. His arm fell limply at his side. He returned Jack’s gaze, his eyes wide as well, the disbelief written plainly on his face.

“Jack…” he whispered to himself, not able to look away as the pirate’s dark eyes fluttered momentarily then slowly closed, never to open again.

Stunned, Will dropped to his knees, feelings of failure and despair overwhelming him. He felt tears stinging his eyes and did nothing to prevent them as they fell to the ground, wetting the stone floor.

“Jack…” he repeated quietly, clenching his fists at his sides, seeing nothing but the pebbled ground, as red-coated soldiers removed the pirate from the noose and carried him away.

“Will?” said a concerned voice from somewhere above him.

He wiped at his face, feeling a delicate hand touch his shoulder. Rising slowly to his feet, he turned to see Elizabeth gazing at him, concern clouding the sadness in her own eyes. She reached her hand down and linked their fingers together, guiding him to the battlements. The setting sun cast shadows on their faces, as they moved to stand next to Governor Swann and Commodore Norrington. They watched the soldiers lift Jack’s body over the escarpments, glancing at their superior. The usually stoic commodore frowned, taking in a breath before nodding to them. The soldiers released their hold on the pirate, letting him drop to the cerulean waters below.

A fitting burial for a man who loved nothing more than to be at sea.

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Will woke with a start, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. A sob escaped his throat as he placed his head in his hands, and he allowed the tears to continue. It had been the same dream every night for a little more than a year, and every time he would wake with a new set of tears spilling from his eyes.

Jack’s death seemed to weigh more heavily on his shoulders than anyone else’s. His depression worried Elizabeth, and she insisted that he attempt to get out and do something to ease his pain. She would invite him to attend banquets and parties with her, pushing him to become a part of society. Each time he would decline and stay within the confines of his smithy, toiling away at his swords.

Once Elizabeth had breached the idea of marriage to him, and he immediately pushed away the thought. He said he did not deserve marriage to anyone, not with Jack’s death on his hands.

If only he had been faster.

If only he had pushed harder.

Then maybe…maybe Jack would still be…

Will wiped away his tears, rising from his bed and walking to the bowl of water he kept in the room. He splashed the liquid on his face, raising his head to look at himself in the mirror nailed to the wall in front of him. The glass reflected to him his sorrow and the dark circles under his brown eyes. He looked haggard, his face pale and worn from lack of sleep and chronic depression.

“Maybe I should eat a little,” he said to himself.

He nodded, as if agreeing with his own thought, and headed towards the kitchen of sorts that he had established within the smithy. Grabbing a loaf of bread and some butter, he sat at the makeshift table. He stared at the bread; he wasn’t very hungry at all, but he knew that he had to eat something.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear the flap of wings at his window. The bird called to the blacksmith but received no response. Annoyed, the blue and yellow parrot flew into the smithy, circling twice above Will before squawking loudly in his ear.

Will jumped, almost falling from his chair, and stared as the familiar parrot dropped a rolled sheet of parchment onto the table. The bird settled next to it and tilted his head.

“Shiver me timbers!” the feathered creature called, then ignored Will completely as it pecked hungrily at the nearby bread.

Will furrowed his eyebrows as he took the paper and untied the string, letting it fall from his fingertips. Wondering why Mr. Cotton would send him a letter, he unrolled the parchment and read the short message written in flowing cursive handwriting.


Dear William,

I thought maybe we should meet and do a little of that catch up. I would very much like to see you soon. Go to Tortuga as soon as you read this. I’ll be waiting.

Captain Jack Sparrow


Will blinked, reading the letter again. Once more. Twice more. He read it for a fifth time, wondering if his eyes were seeing correctly.

“Wha…? Jack? But…” he stuttered to no one.

He shook his head, reading the message yet again, knowing that the signature could not belong to the eccentric pirate. Jack was dead. Will had watched him die. He had been mourning his death for over a year. The letter couldn’t be from Jack. It just was not possible.

“Not probable,” he suddenly remembered Jack once saying.

A smile tugged at the corners of Will’s lips. He couldn’t put it past the ever-clever Captain Jack Sparrow to somehow come back from the dead. Unlikely as it may seem, Will could not resist the urge to pack his things and head to Tortuga as quickly as possible. He stood, his hands on the table as he looked down at the letter and nodded.

“I have to get to Tortuga,” he said resolutely.

The parrot cawed, seeming to give its assent, and extended its wings, ready for flight. The avis flew out the way it came in, through the window, leaving the partially pecked-at bread behind. Will walked into his bedroom and opened the drawer of his nightstand. He pulled out several coins, hoping he had enough to attain passage to the rowdy town.

If Jack was still alive, he would stop at nothing to find him.


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The idea just hit me so I started writing, and when I finished I realized I had no idea what was going on. *sheepish grin* But I’ve got an idea for part of the next chapter, though. Yay me! :P