Fan Fiction ❯ Pirates of the Caribbean: the Gray Death's revenge ❯ the beginning ( Chapter 1 )

Fanfic: Pirates of the Caribbean: the Revenge of the Gray Death

Author: Mooncatz AKA S-chan

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing or a character in this story. apart from Jill Turner and assorted original characters. I don't mean to infringe copyright laws, and... don't sue me, the best you'll get is around $9 something.

R&R, my friends, R&R. if you like it, tell me so I'll write more!

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The day was sweltering hot. It was in the middle of the summer in the Caribbean, and any smith could tell you, the weather was a curse. The weather had been too blistering for weeks on end, maybe a few months, now. It put most people inside, doing things like arranging flowers, but there were two smiths that would not rest. One because he believed in hard work and devotion, and another who wished to escape stabbing her fingers with needles while trying to embroider under the tyranny of her mother.

"don't hold the needle like it's a sword, dear, make smaller stitches, don't be so messy in stitching… blah blah blah, woo woo woo…" Jill Turner imitated in a high-pitched voice as she complained to her father, Will Turner. "it's like mum has it in for me, I swear!"

Will smiled slightly as he worked on a red piece of hot metal, sweat dripping down his face. "you know your mother's only trying to make sure you'll have … womanly qualities, so we can find you a proper husband…"

Jill frowned and plopped down in a chair, kicking up her feet and resting them on a barrel filled with water. "I don't want a husband already, father! I'm only sixteen, and I'd much rather be a Smith…or a pirate!"

The girl's father turned around, the red-hot iron clamped in the hold of a pair of tongs, and strode over to plunge the metal in a bucket of water next to the anvil. Through the thick steam cloud, Will replied, "not a pirate, surely, you'd be hanged! Also," Jill could swear she heard the smirk in her father's voice, "women are bad luck on ships."

Jill's snort of disbelief was heard easily over the hissing of the hot metal. "and I suppose that the ship's bell is it's soul, as well?"

"actually…"

"ugh, sailor suspicions!" Jill groaned, then `dramatically' held a hand up to her brow, leaning back in her chair. "they'll be the end of me, I tell you, those sailors!" Will laughed as he took the still faintly red metal back to the anvil.

Over the noise of the hammering, Will commanded his daughter to go down and haggle for fish or something to keep her busy and out of her mother's clutches. Jill leapt at the chance to be near the sea, and went immediately after persuading her mother, Elizabeth, to let her go.

"only if you take a parasol." Elizabeth said seriously to her daughter, arming the child with the folded parasol, quite a few pounds and making sure her daughter was `decent.'

Jill rolled her eyes and gave voice to a deep sigh and a complain of, "muuuum, I hate being dressed up like this! I hate dresses," the girl motioned at the dress that Elizabeth insisted she wear, "and parasols," Jill twirled the unopened parasol in her hand, "and also, tans are nothing to be afraid of!"

Elizabeth fitfully made sure that Jill's dress was on right and replied, "nonsense, you'll look like a farmer girl!"

Jill barely resisted the childish urge to stomp one foot on the floor and settled for whining. "mum, farmers are nice! Nobody cares about skin color except nobles…"

"I'm sorry…" Elizabeth flashed a small and regretful smile as she drew back and looked at her daughter. "oh, it's just so hard to let you go like this… I still think of you as that little girl who always wanted to play dress-up…"

Jill turned an unflattering shade of red and sputtered out, "muuum!"

Elizabeth grinned mischievously. "oh, it's nothing to be ashamed of, dear… just because you ran around, completely nu-"

Jill's cry of `muuum!' most likely alerted people out in the bay of the girl's dismay.

Soon the girl walked out of the house, clumsily tripping on the hem of her dress as she stalked out the gate with the unfurled parasol slung over her shoulder. Jill grumbled on her way out, something about embarrassing mothers and never taking her fiancée to meet her, ever.

On her way down one alley, skirting a few beggars sitting in the mud, a sign caught Jill's eye. The girl paused in the middle of a large mud puddle, getting the hems of her dress quite dirty, as she looked at the sign. A large and mischievous smile overcome her face as she rushed into the shop under the sign. Jill Turner would never look the same after her stop in the Tailor's, that's for sure.

---

outside of a Tavern with a sign swinging above it in a slight breeze, a `man' stood, looking uncomfortable in `his' baggy shirt, traveler's cloak, feathered hat, dusty pants and muddy boots. The man stood in the road, looking apprehensively at the Tavern sign that labeled the tavern as the Rusty Bucket, then, after tugging at his tight shirt collar, strode in.

most of the tavern-goers paused from their drinks to look up as the man stepped into the tavern, apart from a quite drunk pair in the middle of a chorus about really bad eggs. Unwilling to be the center of attention, though, the young one was quick to move to the bar.

The bartender was a tall, slightly piggish man with a nose that highly resembled a pig's itself. He was cleaning a dirty tankard with a barely less dirty rag, watching the youngest customer make his way to the bar. As soon as the feather capped man stopped at the bar, the barkeep snorted and put down the tankard none too lightly, then said quietly as so the other customers wouldn't hear, "maid, it takes more than a man's clothing to resemble one."

The `man' in the feathered hat jumped slightly, then hissed softly and swiftly back, "I didn't have much time to improvise, sir."

the piggish bartender snorted and picked up the tankard again to set back to his futile cleaning. "none o' my concern who ye are, only concern o' mine is if ye pay."

"fine," the male-clothed female reached into a hidden cloak pocket and slammed a few pounds on the bar. "give me your best ale."

The piggish barkeep raised his eyebrows and leaned downwards to inspect the pounds. He then asked, "who be ye, lass?"

She lifted her head proudly and declared, barely quiet enough to not be heard, "Jill Turner."

"ah," the bartender snatched the pounds and stuffed them into a pocket. "very well. I be John smith, and this be the rusty bucket. Cause any problems t'all, you'll be reported. Pay and toe the line, you be welcome here. Understand?" John briefed Jill on the rules as he expertly retrieved a cleaner tankard and poured the ale in all of less than a minute.

Jill nodded, slightly mystified at how John was able to do this all seemingly without a thought, then realized he couldn't see her nod her head as John was facing the other way. "Yessir."

The frothing tankard was set on the bar, and John smirked slightly. "got manners, don't ye? Well, might as well forget `em now, be you running from home or merely becoming a regular customer."

Jill nodded again, and took the tankard, quickly swigging some of the ale down and then putting the tankard back on the table, looking slightly green from the quick intake of alcohol. John suddenly grinned. "firs' time ye had alcohol like this, eh?"

The girl nodded, covering her mouth with one hand and holding onto the tankard handle with the other until her knuckles turned white.

John snorted in suppressed laughter, then took up the dirty tankard again. "no worries, lass. Ye'll get over it soon."

---

John's words were a bit too prophetic. The two sailors who had been singing about rotten eggs earlier had stumbled over to the bar and sat down on either side of Jill, and the drunker one on her right bought her another drink. The Sailor, who's name was Bill Miggins, challenged the tipsy Jill to a drinking contest aboard his ship, where he had "the best beginning drinker ever." It turns out this protégée drinker was also Jill's age. The left sailor, who wasn't as drunk as Bill but stunk like five day old garbage that's been laying in the sun, agreed fervently to Bill's claims.

Even after John got a slightly worried look and told them all to go home because they were drunk, they ignored him and continued talking about drinking contests, the drunk Jill merrily enjoying the conversation and the drink.

"so's `r ye gunna come t' my ship…what was yer name again?..." a quite drunken Bill asked Jill, laughing sometimes for no particular reason.

Jill thought for a moment, almost tipping over in her chair and putting a finger on her lower lip in thought. "I'm Jack… n' I'll be happy to prove you that I'll beat your protégée drinker!" the girl vowed, standing up and almost falling over, laughing along with the two drunk sailors.

The sailor that stunk of garbage, who, after inquiry, identified himself as only Silver, snickered and stood up, also almost tipping over. "c'mon ye big oafs, to th' … eh… what was the ship's name again?..."

"the Red Parrot, you dolt, the Red Parrot!" Bill roared at Silver, then took a long gulp of his own ale.

Silver bowed his head slightly. "sorry Cap'in. but, anyhow, let us go t' the red Parrot, n' may Thom beat ol' Jack here!" the smelly pirate smacked Jill friendly on the shoulder, almost tipping the girl over. Bill stood up as well, leaning sideways and running into Silver, who swore.

The group all respectively paid for their drinks, and Bill and Silver, to John's dismay, lead the tipsy Jill out the door and into the late afternoon street that had suddenly changed from burning hot to dead cold and beclouded.

John stepped outside as a gust of wind swept down the alley after Jill, Bill and Silver, and tsked. "that lass better make her merry way home… I'ma not gonna be no one's babysitter…" the tall man stepped back into his tavern, hoping for the best.

---

Jill stumbled into her house later that night, at around nine PM, and was simply mobbed by her Mother and Father, both inquiring where she was, who she was with, what possessed her to stay out so late and why was she wearing men's clothes. Jill brushed them off and walked up to her room, still very much drunk. The only reason Elizabeth didn't throttle Jill when she figured out was Will, who was holding Elizabeth back.

After they made sure Jill collapsed on her bed, not on the table or the floor, William guided down Elizabeth to the dining room.

As soon as Elizabeth was seated, Will took a deep breath and crossed his arms behind his back. "Elizabeth…" Will started hesitantly. "Jill is… a pirate sympathizer, you know that, right?"

Elizabeth nodded curtly, folding her hands in her lap but managing to look furious. "of course she does, but that's no reason for her to get drunk! She'll turn into someone just like Jack Sparrow! I can't let that happen."

Will sighed again, and prayed to the heavens he'd get Elizabeth out of her horrible mood. "Elizabeth, Jill is … more wild then you or I could tame. Maybe we should…" he trailed off hopefully.

Elizabeth raised one eyebrow, and asked Will coldly, "are you suggesting I should send my child out with pirates?"

Will cringed at her tone. "love, I know it's unorthodox, but…"

"Absolutely not!"

"but Jill would be fine! she's got a Turner's blood, she's determined and hard-working, and she loves pirates!" Will argued back.

"what if the pirates are a bad bunch? What if Jack's changed? What if we can't find Jack Sparrow and his Black Pearl, what if she's kidnapped by other pirates? What if we lose her forever, William?!" Elizabeth cried, going paler at the thought of losing her child to the sea.

Will was silent for a moment, then sighed. "you're right, Elizabeth…you're always right. We won't send Jill away, we'll keep her here…and hopefully she won't get into the habit of drinking."

Sadly, the next day, Will's hope that Jill would stop going to the tavern was shattered like glass. Jill kept on going to the tavern, to talk to Bill, Silver, Thom and some others of the crew, and John. On the third day of her Tavern-going, Jill made a choice that would change her life forever…

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