The Pirate of Port Royal

Chapter 3 - The Captain

The following day Jack went back to the tavern they visited the other night to see if he could find out anything on the man that was watching them from the dark table. He couldn't rest until he knew who that was. And why they were watching them. Inside were a few drinkers from the previous night, still clutching their drinks as they struggled to keep their eyes open. They all felt weighted, unable to carry themselves to the door. Jack swayed his way past, grabbing a drink off a person who was passed out on a table, and sat at the bar. It was early in the morning, the sun just reaching through the windows, illuminating the dust that collected on the floor. The bar man motioned a hello and topped up his drink before continuing to wipe down the table.

"What's it to be Jack Sparrow?" He asked, hands pressed to the wooden bar.

"I'm here to ask of a person who came here the other night and left around the time me and my company left," Jack explained, taking a swig from his drink.

"You mean that old guy?" The barman mumbled.

"Yes that old guy. Who is he?" Jack was growing impatient already.

Once he had the name, it would be a lot easier to track where it came from. He already had a gut feeling and after sifting through previous men who he would consider enemies, most of them dying as of late, there was only really one name that still remained. But that name he hadn't heard of in years. He presumed he was dead. However many people liked to return from the dead if the cause is right for it.

"Never got his name. Quite rude the bloke was," The barman began "he didn't look that tall, but he did rather slump in his seat. He had a horribly shaven beard, like he'd never used a shaver before. Dark blue eyes I presume it was dark after all as you know," Jack glared at him to get to the point "he had to be old like over 50, not that that's even that old but you know what I mean compared to you and I. Oh and he wore a ugly black coat that looked like he dragged it through mud then decided it looked better that way."

Jack nodded and added it to the description he had of his shadow. The way he sat, the way he moved his wrist with the drink in his hand. A ding sounded in Jack's brain just as the person came to his head. A chill went down his spine. It couldn't be. Not him. The name pounded in his brain like it was tearing down the walls to his mind. Ripping them down while continuing to laugh in his face. That familiar use of letters that formed a name Jack forgot how much he despised. He hadn't heard it in so long and now it was back, pushing right through to the centre. Why did he forget this man was still out there? Why did he let himself believe that he was really safe? That Lydia was really safe.

"Captain Thomas O'Malley," Jack  murmured, the barman's eyes widening and him paling like a ghost.

"No no it couldn't be, I heard bad things from him," The barman stuttered as Jack shot up from his seat.

"And you'll likely hear even worse if I don't stop him," Jack said, chucking him some money for his drink and storming out the bar.

••••••••••

Lydia brushed her hands over the covers of the books once more. They were just how she imagined her parents. Soft and gentle yet bursting with wisdom and trickery. Sat alone in her cabin, Lydia lit a few candles around her before peeling open the first book, finding a page that seemed to ring familiar.

Saturday 9th June,

Unfortunately today is the day. Benjamin and I knew Beckett would come after us, but why today? Lydia still doesn't know, and we plan on keeping it that way. We shall get her away before, hopefully get her to some place like Port Royal and away from any pirates. This greedy man wants to take everything from us, but he won't take Lydia. Our gorgeous girl will grow up magnificent and separate from pirates. That's all I could ever want for her. To be better than us. Better than pirates. Although that would be rather nice, take our legacy. But I can't wish that on her. She could be so much more.