Exorcism

And then he began to speak with a voice she had never heard him use, steady and almost bereft of its usual slur.



“This man … he was born on a ship, during a typhoon, to be precise. It sounds like it is made up, but I assure you, it is the truth. His father had been a respected scientist, friend to the king and part of an expedition to the heart of the Indian subcontinent. He brought with him a wealth of knowledge, a kaleidoscope of science – and a woman, a princess that had been destined to be burned along with her late husband. A barbaric, unnecessary and unappealing tradition but still, that is what they do. Luckily, he managed to rescue her, became vexed by her beauty, married her -,“ he smirked, “- and intended to take her with him to England. Alas, she never went to see that most civilized of nations.”



Elizabeth couldn’t help noticing the cynicism in his voice, wondering where he was going with this strange tale. Why was he telling her this? She opened her mouth to ask him whether he had ever been to England so he could assess the country’s degree of civilization but he simply ignored her, maybe he had even forgotten about her presence for he was staring into the evening sky as if trying to follow its change of colour with his very eyes.



“Being a friend of the king, the scientist had been appointed governor of Port Royal and so he left India with his wife nine months pregnant. The typhoon caught them right off the coast and it was in that night while every sailor was praying for his very life that she gave birth to a son. The infant lived but there was nothing that could be done to save his mother."



"So the new governor reached Port Royal with a broken heart and a child that seemed to him like a punishment of the gods, growing more similar to his mother with each passing day. But while he wanted nothing more than to hide his son from the cruel world out there, locking him up in the very house on the doorstep of which we are sitting at the moment, the boy himself spent hours and hours with the books he found in his father’s library. He travelled to India and Africa; saw Cape Horn and the jungle, long before he ever set foot on a ship. Hecopied charts and questioned the African slaves in his father’s service, longing to see with his own eyes what he only knew from hearsay."



"And then, one day, he went to his father to tell him that he wanted to be a sailor. No more Latin, Dante or Shakespeare, just the waves, the sunset and the taste of adventure.”



Shakespeare – the name of the great poet coming from his very lips, the lips of a pirate, made her startle. How could he know about Shakespeare – about Dante or Latin?



And as if he’d read her thoughts, he went on:



“I think it was Hamlet who said: This above all - to thine own self be true. And this man, the governor’s son, felt that the life he led was just a lie, a prison that had been built around him and that he needed to escape so he could finally breathe again. But he did not understand – back then – that his father’s greatest fear was to lose him, just like he had lost his mother and so there was no understanding but only disbelief and hate when he heard his wish declined. He raged against his father’s decision, called him names and behaved in the most outrageous manner, but it didn’t help him. He was sent to his room without supper and that night, he decided to take control of his own destiny. When everyone had gone to bed, he climbed out of the window, took a horse from the stables and fled, passing the gate without anyone noticing.”



He paused for a moment and Elizabeth watched him suck in his lower lip, an insecure, almost child-like expression on his face. For a long moment, he seemed to consider his words, then continued with his voice calm and collected.



“There was a schooner in the harbour that night, leaving for China to fetch some tea and opium. The boy changed his name so the captain wouldn’t recognize him as the governor’s son and asked to be taken into the crew as whatever they needed. The captain who had a good heart thought the boy on his flight from some unfortunate events and took him in. "



"When the governor found out his son was gone without only a note left, the deplorable boy was already scrubbing the deck of a ship heading for some faraway shore. It was hard work and quite a change from the cosy life he had known at home. There was many a day when he regretted everything he’d done, when he wanted nothing more than to return to his father’s arms and beg for forgiveness – but he was proud, too proud to admit he’d made a mistake and still too proud give up what he’d just begun. And so he cried his heart out every night, because he was scared, homesick and alone."



"One day – it must have been not long before they reached the Chinese coast, he realized that he had no more tears to shed. The rolling of the waves no longer made him sick, it felt like a part of him, as did the salty air, the fluttering of the sails and the cries of the doves. And before he set foot on land again, he had fallen in love with the sea.”



At these words, Elizabeth let out a snort and peered at him dismissively.



“What’s the matter?” Jack asked, somewhat irritated by her unwelcome interruption.



“I don’t know if you ever noticed, but every story the likes of you happen to tell features someone falling in love with the sea. So if you added that bit to impress me, I have to inform you that your plan failed miserably. I’ve had enough of Davy Jones, lately …"



"And by the way, everyone you know seems to be in love with objects, concepts or liquors, so I really don’t see why you feel you have to mention this specifically when talking about that man.”



Jack looked at her as if she had just made a really stupid and utterly unnecessary remark, then replied with some venom in his voice:



“You’ll see.”



Again, he seemed to collect his thoughts before he proceeded.



“The years passed and he became a knowledgeable sailor, well respected by captain and crew and – so they told him – born to be a captain himself. His time came with the rise of the East India Trading Company. One day, it was brought to his attention that an agent of the company had arrived in Bridgetown. Taking the risk, he gave up his previous position and introduced himself to Cutler Beckett. And now you’ll understand why it is I can’t call him my friend. He was utterly naïve, stupid and full of himself – in short, he was perfect prey for anyone looking for an idiot to do the dirty work."



"So convinced was he of his own abilities that he didn’t even become suspicious when Beckett spontaneously offered him the captaincy of a ship named “The Wicked Wench”. He was to sail to the West African Gold Coast and fetch some unknown but apparently very valuable cargo – most importantly, without asking any questions."



"Well, he wasn’t really interested in anything as long as he got a ship and a crew and so he took up the assignment and did what he was told. There were several men on board to take care of the cargo - they kept away from the rest of the crew and no one seemed to know what was really going on. But no one seemed to care, anyway. They did get quite a decent sum of money and that was enough to keep their interest in the assignment at minimum. Well, obviously, it wouldn’t have been too difficult to guess what they were going to transport – anyone in possession of anything only slightly resembling brains would have known immediately."



"Maybe I would be more sympathetic to our man, could I be sure he had been naïve enough as to be completely unsuspecting. But he knew and he knew it all along – still, he miraculously managed to pretend he didn’t. It was not difficult, though. Sometimes, it’s enough to close your eyes and keep your ears shut. After a few days out at sea, the captain had made friends with another crewmember – an Englishman by the name of Bill Turner and …”



Elizabeth had become completely mesmerized by the story by then, but the well-known name made her sit up in an instant.



“Bill Turner? Bootstrap? Will’s father? But he told Will he left England to go pirating …”



“He did?” Jack, who had consciously avoided looking at her, suddenly turned his head and she almost backed away when she saw the haunted expression in his eyes. However, he seemed to pick up courage fairly quickly and a somewhat forced grin spread across his face. “How very noble – but I tend to forget that the whelp must have inherited that unfortunate trait from someone.”



“Don’t you dare talk about him like that!” She suddenly felt enraged. How could anyone be so completely unpredictable? At one moment, he behaved and talked almost like a normal person, at another, he was back to his old ways, an arrogant grin on his lips and that drunken slur in his voice … it was unnerving to think that this was the same man that had worn such a pained expression on his face only seconds ago.



“Not meant to offend you, luv! As it is, I can assure you that Bill Turner would never have left his family for anything as self-seeking and immoral as piracy.” His face was a mere grimace now, an expression of utter ridicule distorting his handsome features and Elizabeth suddenly realized she wanted to slap him. “No, if you’re looking for the one to blame for the whelp’s sad childhood, you have to look some place else …”



“Jack, what the hell are you talking about?” Elizabeth knew she was yelling but she didn’t care. There was no one around to hear them, anyway.



“You don’t understand, do you?” He turned away from her and jumped to his feet.



“No, in fact, I don’t! Which, obviously, is not my fault!”



“Alright!” He whirled around, his dreadlocks and trinkets framing his face in a grotesque, lion-like manner. “Alright! Listen … I’m gonna say it like it is and you’re not gonna interrupt me, savvy? Oh, and no way I will tell the following ever again …” He looked at her sharply for a second or two and Elizabeth instinctively ducked her head. “It was me – do you hear me? I made Bill Turner a pirate … he never wanted to be one, he wanted to return to his wife and to bloody Will and I am sure that this is exactly what he’d have done … but then, he had the misfortune of meeting me along the way.”



“What do you mean?” Elizabeth asked, confused.



He didn’t answer right away but walked over to what remained of the mansion’s outer wall. It was almost dark now and she could only see his silhouette taking down the hat and leaning his forehead against the wall.



“When we reached the fort where we were to fetch our cargo, Bootstrap and me seized the opportunity to explore the scenery. None of us had ever been to Africa before and everything we saw was new and exciting. We stayed away for three days, sleeping under the starlit sky, and when we returned, the “Wench” was already fit for departure. Beckett’s men had taken care of the cargo and there was nothing left for me to do apart from delivering it safely to the Caribbean. It should have been easy but it didn’t even take me 24 hours to find out it was the hardest thing I‘d ever done. Except for Beckett’s men – there were three of them-, no one went to the hold to see what was happening there, but there was no way to escape the screams, the penetrating smell and the corpses that were thrown overboard every night."



"After a week or so, my curiosity got the better of me. When I saw that the man guarding the entrance to the cargo hold had fallen asleep, I sneaked past him to see for myself what I already knew. But not even the most sinister premonition could have prepared me – or anyone – for what I had agreed to transport. There were African people – many of them, men, women and even children, chained together like cattle."



"I could try to describe the smell of death, the foul air, the cries and the desolation in their faces, but even the most horrific details could not make you imagine the terror in their eyes … I felt the sudden urge to run away … I couldn’t bear the sight. But I couldn’t turn away either. It was like something forced me to look at them until the image was forever branded in my memory, an eternal punishment for my self-seeking and thoughtlessness. "



"I got sick and rushed back on deck. Then I locked the door to my cabin and drank myself into oblivion. I think that at this point, my decision was already made, but it took me three more days until I went to Bootstrap and told him I had seen the cargo and intended to take it back to Africa. He tried to talk me out of it but I wouldn’t listen … poor Bill, he didn’t fear for himself but for his family; still, he agreed to help me. With the aid of several more crewmembers, we managed to overcome Beckett’s men – the ones that were responsible for the slaves in the hold – and locked them up in the empty cell reserved for mutineers and stowaways. We then went into the hold and freed the slaves from their chains … there were so many … many more than I remembered from my first visit …really, I still can’t believe they fitted in there … "



"They didn’t know what was happening and we had to prevent some of them from jumping over the rail when they found out they were allowed to go on deck. They were unbelievably scared – I mean, who wouldn’t, in their situation?"



"Luckily, one of them understood and spoke some English and I explained to him that it was all a stupendous error and that I would take them back to Africa immediately. To my immense surprise, he didn’t seem to like the idea all that much. As it turned out, he feared they might be enslaved again as soon as they stepped on land, possibly even by their own people and sadly, I think he may have been right. Frankly, I didn’t know what to do and my crew was already getting anxious. There was no other way. So the “Wench” kept on heading towards the Caribbean, but still, I couldn’t get myself to deliver them to Beckett …”



He paused for a moment and took a few steps further into the shadowy darkness.



“So I brought them to Tia’s … all of them. Some are still there, you may have seen them … they are free but I suspect they don’t have anywhere else to go. As soon as I knew they were safe, I sailed the “Wench” to Bridgetown and intended to hide from Beckett. It was a stupid plan and of course, I was caught. He kept me for days and tried to make me tell him the whereabouts of his cargo …”



It was so dark now Elizabeth could barely perceive the outline of his figure. He seemed to stand perfectly still, but there was something in his voice that made her believe he was actually shaking. She was still sitting on one of the columns, her body tense in anticipation of the blow that she knew would come.



“After some time … it felt like ages which I’d spent in some dark and mouldy cell, I was taken to Beckett’s office … I was blinded by the light and he didn’t even speak to me …he had three people holding me down when he branded the “P” into my skin ... the pain was excruciating … I fainted … or at least I believed I did, but then, I realized I was awake and lying on the floor … and there was that pistol on the drawer … no one saw me taking it … and I shot. Unfortunately, I didn’t manage to kill him, but as I learned later, I deprived him of some pretty important parts of his body … I didn’t care back then. There was suddenly a big tumult, everyone was swooping down on Beckett … I don’t know how I got out … I was nearly keeling over from pain … my arm was throbbing and I felt sick … no one seemed to follow me but I kept on running … they probably thought I’d die anyway. And really, with the brand fresh on my skin, I was lucky it was Bootstrap and not some member of the Royal Navy who found me. "



"I felt like I was neither alive nor dead, but we couldn’t stay in Bridgetown … so Bill dragged me onboard the “Wench” and we escaped. At least we thought we did … of course, Beckett found out and soon we had seven ships of the East India Trading Company chasing us. Finally, after two days, they caught up with the “Wench” … there was nothing we could do. There was fire …everywhere fire … and we jumped into the sea. We held onto some wooden plank while we watched the “Wench” go down and Beckett’s agents bring their ships about … they obviously thought us dead and sometimes … sometimes I think we really should have died that night."



"But there was the family Bootstrap longed to see again … and a world I still wanted to discover. I just couldn’t die…not yet. And then I remembered an old legend that Tia had once told to me … truth be told, I had never believed that anything like the Flying Dutchman and its cursed captain existed, but in my despair, I called on Davy Jones."



"As you very well know, he existed, he appeared and I managed to make him raise the “Wench” from the depths for me … in exchange for my soul which I was to deliver to him in thirteen years time. I guess that back then, I was like all young people … thirteen years appeared to me more than a lifetime and actually, I thought that he would have forgotten about it when time came. Well, you know the end of THAT story …"



"What happened to Bootstrap and me after I had made the deal with Jones is quickly told: We found ourselves back onboard the “Wench” which was quite a bit faster than we remembered it. I must have been something of a mess because we first went to Tia where I spent several weeks recovering. I tried to convince Bill to go back to England – I really did. But he said that after we had stolen cargo from the East India Trading Company and commandeered one of its ships, we could as well be pirates. And that was what we did. We rechristened the “Wench” - that’s how the “Black Pearl” was born – and then headed for Tortuga to get a crew."



"We met Barbossa who told me he’d help us if I made him my first mate …well, stupid mistake, but I really didn’t have much of an idea how piracy worked and figured we could need an instructor. One of the African women in the bayou had braided my hair and with the scarf wrapped around my forehead and the beard no one who knew me before would have recognized me. The only thing I had to do now was settle into my new life as a pirate … and I swore to myself that it should be nothing less than a legend …”



END OF PART I



A/N: Port Royal was actually destroyed by an earthquake in 1692, subsequent rebuilding failed because of several hurricanes during the first half of the 18th century. The governor’s residence was moved to Kingston, following the destruction of the city.



I know that this story ignores the fact that Jack’s father is a pirate, but I guess one could argue that he turned pirate after ending his career as governor of Port Royal. There’ll be some more about him in the second part of “Exorcism”.



The idea of Jack being an educated man as a possibility in PotC-canon was further explored in my essay “Jack Sparrow’s past, present and future”.