Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The hot Caribbean sun was beating down on a small, sleepy tavern in a port town on a tiny island. Most inhabitants were sleeping - except for Jack Sparrow, who was drinking his rum and tapping his finger. Most people were smart enough not to let red coats know about him, and besides, he was a good tipper (if he could remember or was sober enough to tip).

The tiny tavern filled with the scent of tar, salt, fish, and sailors (the nicest of ways to describe the stench of not having a proper bath in months) as the rest of its patrons slept or drank.

Jack took a swig of his rum, feeling it hit his throat, his ring finger tapping his compass as the arrow swirled around as broke as many assumed, as he inwardly sighed. “Okay, Jack, time to admit you’re in a rut,” he thought to himself. Your compass isn’t working; you had to give your crew - okay, Gibbs -  time off to do something…”

Oh, what a sorry state Captain Jack Sparrow was in: he was broken and bored out of his skull, with no treasure or adventure for him or his one crewmate, Gibbs. Sure, plundering was decent, but there was no real thrill or stories to tell. The Dying Gull was a decent ship (in theory), but no vessel could match the Black Pearl anyway - even though it had been seven years since he lost the Pearl.

He was Captain Jack Sparrow. He should have had adventures to take his crew on, but alas, there were none.

The day soon became more of a blur as Jack continued to drink, flirting with a barmaid, trying to regale the others with tales of his adventures before they all fell asleep. Jack's ring fingers rubbed his brown eyes as he lay his head on the table, feeling too exhausted to move, not paying attention and closing his eyes momentarily. 

Suddenly, he heard the sound of coins jingling as he opened an eye and looked back at two huge blue eyes before they disappeared. His hand and eyes went down to his coin punch to find it missing! “Oi!” he yelled, spotting a straw hat as he jumped up. Feeling slightly lightheaded, Jack nearly stumbled as he found his balance, running after the shadow.

Jack pushed through the door, moving through a crowd. His dark eyes settled on the shadows and the vague shape of a straw hat, trying to move swiftly through the crowds. Jumping onto the cart and trying to ignore the sudden dizziness in his head, he followed the shadow as the small figure climbed onto a roof. 

The pirate climbed onto the roof, following the shadow. He lost his balance as he staggered and fell with a grunt. His dark eyes watched as the shadow disappeared from his sight.

He stood up, trying to find his balance. It wasn’t every day someone robbed Captain Jack Sparrow and got away with it. His eyes checked his belt, and he saw his pouch cut right from the loop - Funny that pouch, by all accounts, was supposed to be thief-proof!  Oh, what would people say about him now? Captain Jack Sparrow was a wasted drunk who got pickpocketed by a thief, and now he lost all that sliver in a flash!

Then it hit him, and he grinned, taking out his compass, his gold teeth glistening in the sunset. For the first time in a long while, his compass was pointing!

As always, Abigail struggled with the broom; she felt the heat as she worked. Trying to keep this place tidy was more challenging than it sounded, and she needed to get it done before the place was open for the day. Her blue eyes looked out the window, seeing how pretty the sea was and all the fancy ships around the port. Maybe this time she could sneak down to hear some of the customers, or perhaps this time she could actually - 

“-Abigail, what have I told you about daydreaming?” She blinked, seeing Mr Crowley, and she gulped.

“Not to, Mister Crowley,” she replied, looking up, trying to smile with a nervous feeling in her stomach at getting caught daydreaming. Mister Crowley was a rather tall man with a considerable girth in the middle, as he liked to say. He tided his blond hair with a ponytail on the back, showing off his red face, stern green eyes, and even sterner expression. Wearing a nice black coat, a white shirt, black breeches, grey stockings and boots, the eight-year-old continued her work.

“Exactly," he said as he motioned for her to follow him. Abigail followed him as she watched him unlock the cellar. “Now, what got your attention?”

Abigail bit her lip; she knew she wasn’t supposed to lie, but the eight-year-old also knew she wasn’t supposed to admit to breaking the rules. “Um,” she mumbled, “Just the sea looked pretty, is all.” 

Mister Crowley said nothing momentarily as he gestured to take the bottles from his hands. “Is that all, Abigail?” he asked. “Remember, good girls don’t lie.”

Abigail was quiet for several moments, following her routine of going down, taking the bottles, and putting them on the bar for Mister Crowley's other staff to deal with. “Well, it was nothing really - honest, Mister Crowley, but I just wanted to see the pretty ships, maybe see them from the cave,” she said. Her hands nervously played with her dress. Abigail loved watching the ships go in and out of port, watching everyone move the ports, and loved the scent of the sea -  and the cave had the best view out of all of them. 

His green eyes looked at her sternly. “We talked about this before, Abigail. Ships and the sea are dangerous to little girls like you and the rest of the world. You're safer here and in the cave.”

“But -”

“If the soldiers found out about your little skill, they would have no issue sending you or me to prison or, worse, the gallows,” he said. “You wouldn’t want that, would you, little Abigail?”

She shook her head; even if she was innocent of any crime, Mister Crowley always told her they would never believe her, given how she looked. “Now you know we serve not only sailors but pirates, too. Now, do they look like good men to you?”

Abigail gulped. The rules were clear that she was to stay in her room during business hours, but sometimes, she snuck down and listened to customers' stories of vicious pirates who pillaged plunder with their cannons on their scary ships. Her head and blue eyes looked down. “No, sir,” she said softly.

“Correct. If those men were being merciful, they’d slit that pretty little throat of yours,” he warned in a grave voice.

“Sorry, Mister Crowley,” she mumbled, feeling guilty that she even brought up the idea.

“Just remember, good girls are never curious unless they want to have dinner today. Now, let’s get back to work, and if you get your work done, you’ll get a treat,” he said with a smile.

She grinned at the word treat. Treats usually meant that she was a good girl, but today, it showed that Mister Crowley forgave her, and he was feeling extra nice today. “Thank you, sir,” she said.  Abigail eagerly went to work, trying to think what the treat could be. Maybe she would get some fresh fruit if she was on her best behaviour!  The sun was shining in the room as she cleaned, and she giggled, seeing how the sun was so bright-looking on her dark chestnut skin and her black hair as she cleaned up the floors in the rooms.

Afterwards, the raven-haired girl was polishing the wooden baluster on the second floor of the staircase when she saw a figure walk in. That was odd since it wasn’t opening time yet. She hid in the shadows, her blue eyes watching curiously, seeing something she had never seen before.

He was strange-looking, walking with a casual saunter like he was off balance. At first, Abigail thought he might have been drunk, but he wasn't stumbling into things like drunks do, his arms above his waist and his fingers constantly moving. Like most sailors Abigail had seen, the sun had tanned his skin, but she had never seen a sailor dressed like this.  

He wore overlong brown seat boots and a red sash around his waist. A long brown overcoat complimented his faded brown tricorn hat and red bandana, which kept his black dreadlocks out of his sun-kissed face. These details made the man stand out, but they weren’t the only things.

He filled his black hair with trinkets and more beads than Abigail had ever seen, but then there was his beard. It wasn’t the usual sailor's beard, the child saw as she leaned over to get a better look; it was only in his chin and upper lip, with two braided strands of hair hung with beads. 

She was used to seeing odd people, but he stood out as being odder than most and coming in before they opened. She picked up her rag as the stranger just went over to the bottle, picked it up, and started to drink from it! 

Abigail bit her lip. She couldn’t talk to customers, but Mister Crowley needed to know. Even though she was technically breaking the rules of stopping her chores, she moved as quietly as a mouse to creep down the stairs and into Mister Crowley's office, closing the door very quietly.

Mister Crowley looked up from his work. “Abigail, why aren’t you doing your chores?” 

“Well, um, Mister Crowley, I was doing my chores, but a customer just walked in, and well, he was, um, drinking from the bottles.”

The tall man stood up faster than she had ever seen him do. “What customer?” His face reddened, and she flinched, hearing the anger in her voice as she pointed to the door.

He opened it slightly, and her blue eyes watched an expression of surprise take over his red face. “I don’t believe it. What are the chances?” he murmured.

Abigail tilted her head slightly as she blinked in confusion. “Mister Crowley, who’s that? Is he a friend of yours?”

He turned back with a smile. “Oh, he's no one. Abigail. Now, why don’t you go to your room? Your chores are done for the day. You have been such a good little girl today, and we will open much earlier, clearly.” He said that last part with a dry tone.

The eight-year-old wanted to ask more questions but was already in trouble. “Yes, Mister Crowley,” she murmured. 

She quietly followed him as Mister Crowley went over to the customer, and she went up to her room, which was on the highest level. A part of her wanted to keep watching the customer, but she didn't want to get punished today, so she climbed up to her room.

Her room was small, but she knew better than to complain about its size -  better the roof over your head than out on the street, as Mister Crowley said. It just had her bed, a table to eat (she really hoped it would be fresh fruit or soup today), and a small window she could look out of. Abigail inwardly groaned, seeing spiders as the dark-skinned opened the window, feeling the breeze in her black hair. “Don’t know why you like my room,” she told the spiders. They were annoying pests (rats, at least, were yummy). 

Time moved so slowly, as it often did for Abigail, as she hummed a tune. She walked around her room, trying to make time go faster and ignoring her empty stomach's hunger. She swished around her skirt as her eyes watched the sea move around, making sure no one could see her. 

It was the start of sundown when someone opened her door, revealing Mister Crowley. The tall man sat down, his girth visible as he took out a small pouch. She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet in utter excitement, seeing him take out a red gumdrop! “Oh, thank you, Mister Crowley!” she said. It was rare that she got sweets! 

“You’re very welcome, Abigail. This sweet took a lot of hard work and money out of my own pocket to get,” he said casually as he handed it to her.

Abigail examined the gumdrop and felt guilty about noticing how tiny the sweet was. She wouldn’t act ungrateful about it—after all, Mister Crowley gave her a roof over her head, food, and a job to pay off her debts. He was being terribly nice to give her something like this as well. “Thank you for the treat, sir.” She might have thanked him before, but the black-haired girl wanted to show her gratitude.  

“Abigail, remember the man who came in this morning?”

She nodded as she took a bite of the gumdrop. “Who is he?”

“He’s nobody important,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, his blond hair still tied but his face less red. “But I gave him my special drinks, and he took a few more than expected,” he said with disgust.

Abigail knew what he meant. Mister Crowley’s drink, or in this rare case, drinks, could make anyone sleepy and drunk - which meant she was going to have to steal again. It was the only way to pay Abagail's debt, as Mister Crowley's real job didn’t pay all the bills. She picked up the straw hat that hid her face, allowing her to hide from the guards and the customers. The dark-skinned girl took another bite, finishing the gum drop.

The blond man grinned. “Good girl Abigail! I didn’t even have to tell you to put your hat on,” he praised, which made her giddy as he handed her a knife. “There might be another treat for you  after dinner if you get the pouch.”

Abigail bit her inner cheek, silent as the grave, feeling her heart beating loudly. Her blue eyes surveilling most customers, who were either drinking or sleeping, Master Crowley must have been giving everyone “special drinks,” or the drunks among the customers had come in really early. Abigail tilted her head, seeing the stranger laying his head on the table. She slowly descended the stairs, careful not to make the wood creak, as she had learned over the years. 

Abigail held her breath, moving as quietly as she could, trying not to bump into any tables and making sure there was no broken glass around, as she slowly approached the stranger. She saw his eyes were closed as she took a few slow steps forward.

Her hands held the knife tightly, and she took slow breaths, trying to make sure no one could hear her as she made her way toward the odd stranger. She also made sure no other customers could see her or pay her any mind. Her blue eyes spotted his pouch hanging from a leather loop and a sword and pistol on his person! 

The tiny eight-year-old gulped slightly as she finally started to cut the loop as quietly as she could. She held the pouch in a light but firm grip (like she learned the bell game Mister Crowley players with her). Swiftly, holding her breath so no one could hear how loud her heart was beating, she finally cut the rope loop! She nearly jumped for joy as she put the pouch in her pocket, trying to ensure the coins didn’t make much sound as they rattled. She took a small step backwards as the stranger suddenly opened his eyes!

Abigail froze for a moment before she dashed away as fast as she could. This was bad! Really bad! She moved as fast as she could, her heart pulsing, moving through tables as she heard an “Oi!” She could hear a voice as she turned her head slightly, seeing the figure stumbling as she moved through the door and past several people. Out of the corner of her eyes, the drunk was stumbling but gaining on her. 

She looked around, seeing a cart as she zigged through the crowd. Her heart felt like it was about to explode as she climbed onto the cart, her wild black hair moving as she jumped onto a rope and climbed onto the roof! She looked as the drunk made the same movements and dashed across the roof, her breathing becoming shallow as she watched the drunk stumble into a fall! 

Abigail kept dashing until she saw the empty streets, looking around and not seeing the drunk in sight! Abigail let out a sigh of relief as she climbed back down to the streets and took a breath, moving strands of black hair from her face - she had never seen a drunk move so fast in her eight years of life!

She checked her dress pocket, felt the pouch, and kept her guard up as she walked through an alleyway, looking around and taking the quickest shortcut to the cave. Her dark boots walked the dirty road as she hummed. She knew the routine was to head to the cave on the beach and wait for Mister Crowley to come and get her.

The sun was setting, causing the sky to turn all sorts of colours as she smelled the scent of the sea. She saw the sun was setting across - what was the word she was looking for …. the horizon of the ocean. She saw several ships swaying in this distance as she jumped down from the wooden lifted boardwalk and into the sand below. Her blue eyes watched the calm, small waves crash onto the sands. There were not even many waves - Abigail knew how scary it could be when the sea was angry at something. She had spent many a stormy night hiding in her bed until the skies and the water had quieted.  

The tiny girl finally got to the small cave and sat down on the sand, taking out the pouch. Opening the pouch, she grinned at the gold and silver, their light shining off the cave walls.

It didn't take long for the compass to lead Jack to the docks and beach. He casually sauntered towards where the needle pointed, whistling to himself. Jack's dark eyes spotted a cave, his hand going to the top of the handle of his cutlass - a little scare tactic if he needed to play the scary pirate.

As he approached the cave's entrance, he saw a shadow moving in the darkness but could not see the thief.

“I think ye stole from me,” he said; most of the annoyance had faded (even if it wounded his pride slightly); now, he was more interested in how the thief had done it. “Now come out.”

He then heard something that made him stop in surprise: whimpering, the only sound outside of crashing waves. Jack stepped softly towards a large rock from which the whimpering was coming and bent over, seeing the same straw hat and a small figure hugging its legs. The straw hat moved and let out a tiny gasp.

The kid scrambled to their feet and tried to run for it. “Oh, no, you don’t,” Jack said. With shocking ease, he picked up the stranger by scruffing its neck like a tiny kitten, lifting her as she struggled. 

“Hello there, mate.” Jack quickly turned the figure around, finally getting a good look at the shadow.

The kid was shaking, holding a knife. Her dark chestnut skin and light blue eyes stood out against the sand and dirt on her. Her long black hair was frizzy, and the dirty, ragged dress that went past her knees was dirty and filled with holes. Her boots were too big and cheaply made, and an old large straw hat covered her face. The girl looked up at him with pure fear. She was tiny and clearly malnourished.

Jack almost wanted to laugh. The girl looked like a stray kitten, and even with her knife, she looked harmless. He then heard the girl just whimpering in fear. He gently placed her down on the ground.

The girl held out the knife, her hands shaking. She looked at him, gulping, and he saw a pondering look on her freckled face, deciding her next choice. Jack wanted to slap himself - of course, the kid was scared; he had been trying to scare and chase her, after all. 

“Best to put on the old charm, Jackie boy,” Jack thought, hearing his dad’s voice as the pirate knelt to the girl’s height. “Easy there, luv,” he said with his most winning smile, trying not to scare her even more. “Not going to harm you, now you just drop that knife, aye?”

Her blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. Jack tried to think of what he could offer her. “Now, kid, you stole from me,” he said. “I can’t let that slide, but we can discuss it.” He put his arms up, showing her his open hands. “How about a trade? Give me back my pouch, and I get you any food you want, a place to sleep, and a bath. Now, does that sound nice, savvy?” 

“Promise?” she asked in a cautious voice. “How do I know, um, you ain’t going to call the guards on me?”

“I’ll promise,” he replied, then made a cross over his heart. “Cross me heart and hope to die!” Jack checked his pockets for any food, before he finally found something. “How about a banana?” he offered as he took it out of his pocket and held it out for her.

The girl hesitantly approached him. A small, dirty hand came over, took the banana, and dropped the pouch and knife to the sand. She took a large bite of the banana in a flash. Jack picked up the pouch and tested its weight. He frowned. “Some of it’s missing,” he commented, tucking the pouch into his coat and holding out his hand. “Hand it over, kid.”

The tiny girl looked at Jack timidly. “How, um, did you know?” she asked as she dug in a pocket and handed all the slivers to him.  

Jack smiled. “I’m a pirate,” he said smugly, putting them in his pocket as it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We always know how much we’re carrying by its weight,” he said.

Her blue eyes widened as she stared at him. “Like a real one?” Despite the soft murmur, he could hear the fear and curiosity in her voice. 

“You didn’t know?” he asked, causing her to shake her head. “Rule number one: check who you’re stealing from. That’s what I learned when I was your age.”

The girl played with the dress, looking down. “What’s your, um, name, Mister Pirate?” the girl asked.

“I’m Captain Jack Sparrow,” he said. Surely the girl would recognise him now after he had so many wanted posters and stories people told about him.

The tiny kid tilted her head, giving him a puzzled look. “Who?” 

Jack blinked; most people were at least somewhat aware of him. “You never heard of me?” He placed his hand over his heart, feigning shock. “You wound me, little lass. I’m one of the most famous pirates in the world! One of the most infamous pirates in the world! The scourge of the seven seas!”

Well, he might have played up his reputation if the kid was unaware of him. The girl let out a whisper of giggle before covering her mouth. “You’re silly.”

“Oh, very much so, but not in this case. Now tell ol’ Captain Jack, what is your name?” he asked, standing up and leaning on the wall. He felt the kid's awe, which helped the old ego. 

The girl looked at him, pondering, as she remained silent—just eating for a few moments. “A-Abigail,” she said with a shy smile, her blue eyes looking at him. 

“Abigail, is it? A fine moniker!” he said brightly. “Now I need to hold up my end of the bargain, hm?”

Abigail picked up her knife and put it on her belt, walking with him. “Are you really not mad at me, Mister?” 

“Oh, I am not mad; if anything, I was rather impressed,” he said with a chuckle. “Now, yer very lucky it’s me you stole from; most pirates wouldn’t take kindly to it.” His hand touched her shoulder. “Quite ironic, given we are all thieves, now that I think about it.”

“But I didn’t mean to steal from a pirate - honest!”

“Oh, luv, there is no need for that. You saw a rich man and stole. I would have done the same in your situation,” he said, patting her head. “Just need to be paying attention to the wanted poster next time, savvy?”

Jack was in a rut, and since the girl did steal from him, he was curious… Besides, he really had nothing better to do.

Abigail sat down in the tavern. She never was able to sit at a table like this. The small eight-year-old looked around, sitting at one in the corner, feeling relief at not seeing Mister Crowley. She was still in disbelief that Mister Sparrow was so nice. At first, she thought the pirate was mad at her, growling and picking her up, but no - Mister Sparrow was really friendly. He even offered her food! 

Mister Sparrow returned with two large mugs and a bowl of soup with some bread. Abigail’s stomach was practically jumping for joy! Sparrow sat down, giving her some soup. “There you go, kid.” He patted her shoulder, which made her freeze for a moment. 

Abigail picked up the spoon, looking at him. She tilted her head and sipped, dipping the bread into her soup. Her blue eyes widened, and she began scoffing it down for a few moments. It was the tastiest thing! 

“Hey, hey! Slow down; eating too fast will make you sick,” Mister Sparrow scolded. “Trust me, I have seen many sailors get sick from eating too fast after being shipwrecked or lost at sea for a while, and it’s not a very pretty sight.”

Abigail paused, feeling her cheeks burning. She stopped eating, instead taking a sip of milk from the large mug, shallowing it and wiping her mouth with her hand. “Sorry… just this soup and fresh bread is the best thing I’ve had in two months,” she admitted. “Thank you, Mister Sparrow.”

“That’s Captain. Captain Jack Sparrow,” he corrected. “You must always refer to the Captain of a ship as captain.”

Abigail nodded. “Oh,” she murmured before dipping the bread into her soup, savouring every part of it. It felt nice for her stomach to not be empty for once.

They entered silence as Captain Sparrow drummed his finger against the table, and Abigail ate her food. “How old are you, Little Abigail?” 

The dark-haired girl swallowed the food before answering. “I’m eight,” Abigail said in a soft voice. “Last time I checked anyway. I showed ye but don’t know my numbers.” 

“Do you have anyone looking after you? A mum or dad?” he asked. 

The girl shook her head, unsure if she should talk about Mister Crowley. “Thought that be the case,” Jack said as he sipped his drink. 

“Never knew them; they died in a shipwreck, um, they say,” she said and took a gulp of milk, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone. “I was the only one to survive it.”

Captain Sparrow patted her shoulder. Abigail looked at him, tilting her head; she didn’t understand why he’d done that. Abigail felt full once the Raven head fork finished her soup and milk. Suddenly, her blue eyes widened, and she ducked under the table. “Hide, Captain Sparrow,” she whispered as guards came into the tavern.

“You alright, kid?” Captain Sparrow whispered, pushing his hat down to hide his face. I pick the corner for a reason; they won’t look at us. Besides, I’m the wanted pirate, not you, kid, so come back up.”

Abigail felt her cheeks burn, wanting to cover her face in embarrassment, as she popped back out from under the table and sat back up. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “It’s, um, a force of habit.”

The pirate captain raised an eyebrow. “You hide from the guards, kid?”

She shrugged, her finger trailing around her mug in a circular motion. Her blue eyes looked down, trying not to draw more attention to herself. “I hide from everyone, all people. Mister Crowley tells me that the guards are always snooping around for thieves, and, well…” Abigail pointed to her dark chestnut skin. “Guards don’t believe me regardless of whether I am guilty or not.”

 “Who’s Mister Crowley?”

Abigail paused, unsure how much she should say. Shifting in her seat, the eight-year-old bit her lip, feeling that nervous knot in her stomach again. “Well, he’s, um, the man I work for. He owns this tavern, actually. I’m not very good at my chores … or paying off my debt,” she mumbled. 

Captain Sparrow said nothing, tapping his fingers again as he took another drink. “Is that why that was your first soup in a while?”

The dark-haired girl nodded. “Do ye mind me asking what your usual dinner is, then?” he asked.

Abigail paused, trying to think. “Stale bread and vegetables a day or too old. Hard cheeses. If I’m really good, I get fresh fruit; that’s my favourite,” she murmured, feeling like she was breaking the rules. “Not that I’m complaining about it. I know it’s better than living out on the streets,” she said, trying not to sound ungrateful, before pulling her hat closer as the guards drew closer. 

Captain Sparrow took off her hat, playing with it before handing it back to her as the redcoats walked past them. “Rule number one is that it’s even more suspicious pulling your hat over your face like that than just staying still,” he said with a grin. “Now, is Mister Crowley around here?”.

Abigail shook her head. “Well, good thing you are with me. I’m Captain Jack Sparrow. I’m always getting away,” he said, a cheeky grin on his face. “The redcoats won't find us if you follow me.”

The eight-year-old tilted her head, confused. “So, um, what should we do, Captain Sparrow? And how do you get away from the redcoats all the time?” she asked as she tilted her head at him.

He chuckled. “I told you, love.” He flicked her nose. “I’m Captain Jack Sparrow! One of the best pirates to ever exist,” he added smugly as he took a sip out of his mug. “I once ransacked Nassau, stealing treasure, without using a single shot or cannonball.” He placed a ringed hand on the kid's shoulder.

Abigail looked up again. “How?” she asked, wildly moving arms from side to side. “I thought pirates raided with big ships,” she continued, using her hands to show how she thought it worked. “And cannons!”

“A great pirate does not require such intricacies,” he explained smugly. “Sometimes you just need to be clever.” He finished his drink as Abigail mimicked the same movement (even if it was just one more drop), feeling giddy before the black-haired pirate stood up and walked up to one of the other customers. 

Abigail watched as Captain Sparrow leaned close, whispering into the tavern patron’s ear. She could not hear what the pirate said, but the customer looked at one of the guards as Jack walked away, whistling. Then, one of the customers went over to a guard and punched him! She covered her face as he moved with that odd, swaying walk and made his way back to her. “Come on, kid,” he said, like what was happening was normal. 

The small, dark-skinned girl followed the pirate, hearing his trinkets making jingling noises as she glanced over her shoulder, seeing an outright brawl as they walked out of the tavern. Jack picked up two bottles. “Wow,” she mummed as Captain Sparrow grinned, showing his gold tooth. “So could, um, tell me about that story you mention?”. 

”Do you know Nassau?” the tiny girl shook her head. It's a pirate port, so it's very hard to rob”.

As they walked, Abigail was in awe. She had never heard such a story in her life, and she was hanging onto every word. Captain Jack Sparrow was amazing—he sounded like the most amazing pirate of all time! Her blue eyes looked curiously at what the Captain was drinking. “What’s that?” she pointed to a glass bottle as they walked around the tiny island. 

He smiled, showing gold teeth. “Rum, little Abigail, the best drink man had ever invented,” he said, holding out the drink to her. “Care to try?”. 

The eight-year-old picked up the bottle with her tiny hands and took a sip. Her blue eyes popped out, coughing and making a face of disgust. “That’s horrible!” She gasped, trying not to choke on the remaining liquid in her throat. “How do you drink that stuff?!”. 

The captain chuckled. “It’s an acquired taste,” he said, patting her back to help the rum go down. “Make sure you get water or milk until you get used to it.”

Abigail coughed once more, letting out the last of the run in her throat. “Captain Sparrow, do you have a ship?” She felt silly even asking it, but she hadn’t heard him mention a ship 

“Yes, the Dying Gull, she ain’t the prettiest, but she does the job”. 

“She?” asked the girl with a puzzled look. “Are ships girls?”.

“Ah, all ships are female. They are normally the only women you see for months on ships. Well, mostly”. 

“Oh… could you show me it? I really like ships, but Mister Crowley tells me they are dangerous”. 

He patted her head with that toothy grin. “I see no reason why I shouldn’t; any reason you like ships?” He asked.

Abigail paused, trying to think of words. “I just like them and the sea—it's hard to explain, I um,” she mumbled. But I like being near them,” she gave him a sheepish grin. “You think that’s silly, don’t ya?”

Captain Sparrow looked down at her. “Silly? I love silly; silliness makes the world fun.” he flicked her nose. “But that is not silly. Silly is when you leave your ship unattended or do not check the wanted poster.” 

Abigail let out a small giggle before they walked in silence. Captain Jack took more of his rum. Her blue eyes looked at him before she said, " Not that I’m ungrateful, but you're helping me, Captain Sparrow? I robbed you, after all.” 

“Now ye stole from me, but I’ve been in that situation hungry and despaired, and what person would I be if I didn’t help a fellow thief such as yourself? Now I promised you a bath and bed, didn't I?” he patted her head. “And don’t call me Captain Sparrow, call me Captain Jack”.  

The tiny girl tilts her head again. “Um, but how? The redcoats are still in there.” She looks around before whispering, “And I don’t want Mister Crowley to know I, um, broke the rules.” 

Captain Jack grinned. “True, but little Abigail, there's always a loophole you can find”, he winked. “I’ll teach you the ropes”. 

Chapter Text

Abigail woke up the softest she had ever felt. She opened her blue eyes and stretched herself, trying to remember where she was in an unfamiliar room. 

As she slowly woke from her sleepy state, she realised she was in one of the rooms in the tavern… Oh, right. Captain Jack got her to climb up on the roof and use a window to sneak in and showed her a trick to lock the door from the inside! 

He gave her all the time she wanted to clean herself in the warm bath. It was so nice before the eight year old dried herself and went to bed. 

Then she heard a loud deep growling sound, Abigail turned around to see Captain Sparrow wait -  Jack had fallen asleep on the other side of the bed. 

He was snoring and seemed to just fall into bed, only taking his coat off before falling asleep, even though his hat was still on his head and an empty bottle was in his hand. 

She tilted her head and looked at him; he wasn’t scary like she heard pirates were meant to be -Pirates were scary men with sharp teeth that would steal and kill with even scarier ships, yet Captain Jack was nice and funny even as nice as Mister Crowley 

Abigail then heard a groan from the pirate. “Good morning, Captain Sp- I mean  ……Captain Jack”, she chirped, still getting used to calling him by his first name. “Did you, um, Sleep well?”.’

He rubbed his dark eyes, groaning. “Normally, when  I end up with a hangover, it’s with an older woman beside me, kid”. 

She had never heard that word: “What’s, um, a Hangover?” Sne mumbled 

Jack struggled to sit upwards, taking more drink from the bottle in his hand. “It means I had too much rum and have a headache”, he then groaned. “And I need more rum to get rid of this headache”. 

Abigail just let out a simple “Oh,” her blue eyes were drawn to the sound of trinkets jiggling and making sounds in his dark hair and odd hairstyle. What were they called again? She tilted her head, looking at all the odd trinkets, trying to see them all.  

“See you staring. Come on, what got your attention?” His hand moved around as he spoke again. His head was on the wall, and he was sitting upwards, his eyes closed. 

The eight-year-old gently took one of his trinkets, touching it, and felt the material and his red bandana and tricorn hat, curiously touching them before flicking on his trinkets, letting out a small nervous sound in disbelief. Captain Jack allowed her to touch them, but Mister Crowley would tell her to stop after all. Good girls, after all, weren’t meant to be curious.  “pretty”, she mumbled. 

He took a swig of his bottle before grinning as she could see his gold tooth. Opening his eyes, he said, “Do ye like my hair? And all my bobbles?” His hands moved strangely. 

She nodded as she gently touched his dreadlocks. They felt like ropes, but although they were very dense and hard, they were not terribly rough to the touch. “Where did you, um, get these?”

“From all my adventures,” he pointed to one of his strands of beads. “These I got from my trip to Morocco. I heard there might have been treasure, but no such luck on that one.” He lifted his hair to show a gold coin with a sea detail. “This I got when I first traveled to the New World, New Orleans. To be specific, I was trying to track down a treasure of an amulet.”

Abigail tilted her head, her blue eyes blinking, and she had never heard that word before. “Morocco?”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “It is a huge colony in Africa, a very interesting place”.  

“Africa?” 

Jack rubbed her black hair. “Next thing you are going to tell me you never heard of the Caribbean before,” he said with a chuckle 

Abigail blinked owlishly. Jack took a huge swing of rum. “We going have to get you out more, kid and show you a map”

They fell silent, and Abigail's cheeks felt hot at not knowing any of those words. As the minutes passed, she was used to silence. Her blue eyes spotted his rings, which were so pretty and shiny. “I thought, um, only women wore jewellery?” she wondered out loud. 

“Maybe they do, but I love jewellery, one of my many vices”, he said, flicking her nose. “I'm a pirate. After all, we love shiny bobbles”. 

The girl let out a small giggle as she played with his shiny emerald ring. “Oi, don’t think about you stealing from me again; you're too young to have my vices yet”.

 Abigail shook her head. “I learned my lesson on ….” the girl trailed off. She touched his sleeve, feeling its texture, then noticed something. She rolled up his sleeve, noticing a “P” on his right forearm above a tattoo of a bird flying over a sunset, tilting her head. 

“It’s a brand you get from an East trading company that marks you a pirate for life,” he said simply. “Had a foul run-in with them”. 

That …. That didn’t make sense to her; she wasn’t sure of any word that could fit with the idea …. “Why?”.

He patted her head. “They don't like me all that much,” he said. 

She wasn’t sure if she should ask about that because grown-ups don’t like questions, and most grown-ups find it rude. Her blue eyes widened as she saw the start of the sunrise!  “I-I need to go” Abigail jumped off the bed, quickly putting on her boots and hat - Mister Crowley always picks her up at Sunrise! Oh, she was going to be in big trouble if she wasn’t there 

Jack was still on the bed. “You need any help getting down, kid?” He yawned 

Abigail played with her dress, shaking her head and opening the window nervously; the eight-year-old tried to estimate how much time she had. “Bye, Captain Jack”, she mummed despite wanting to stay in the room for a bit longer  

Abigail walked slowly in the alleyways. Hopefully, Mister Crowley was still asleep, so she could easily pretend she was hiding in the cave and just pretend she lost the money when Captain Sparrow chased her! That would be a good lie! Wouldn’t it be?!  

“Abigail!” She turns around with a gulp, knowing that stern voice seeing Mister Crowley …. This was bad 

The dark-skinned girl froze. “Oh, thank goodness you're alright,” Mister Crowley said as he came over to her. “I was worried sick.”

Abigail's blue eyes look down as her hands play with her dress  “I-I, um”, she stutters out, feeling she lost all control of her tongue

Mister Crowley placed his hand on her neck. “Now, you can explain as we get to your room”.

Abigail said nothing, trying to regain control of her tongue as she walked with Mister Crowley, feeling his strong hand on the back of her neck and a nervous knot in her stomach lessen. At least he wasn’t angry at her “Well, um” Abigail trailed off 

“-Abigail, what have we discussed about what happens to bad girls if they get caught lying?” he said steely, as she felt like his grip on her neck was even more heavy 

She gulped. “Well, that, um, man, you want me to pickpocket?” she whispered. “He tracked me down, and it turns out the man is a pirate named Captain Jack Sparrow”.  

Mister Crowley said nothing as she led back into the tavern. He motioned for her to continue to speak. Her throat suddenly felt dry. Her mind raced, trying to explain what had happened. “He wasn’t, um, like the usual drunks. He somehow found me in the cave.” That was odd now that Abigail thought about it.

“And what happens next?” He said.

“Well, um, he saw I had the pouch, and he offered me food and a bath in exchange for the pouch…. and I didn’t want to upset a pirate”, Abigail mumbled quickly. Hopefully, that last part would ease the blow about her lost money (maybe just no dinner if she was lucky) as they were walking up the stairs to the small ladder 

The eight-year-old said nothing as she climbed up the stairs to her bedroom, feeling nervous as she sat on her cot, feeling how hard it felt—had it always been this hard? “I can assume he was the reason you weren’t in the cave when I went out to find you earlier,” Crowley asked. 

Abigail just nodded. She figured telling him she was sleeping in a different room would probably not help either of them. “Well, then, I’m just happy for your safety,” he patted her head. Now I want you to answer questions about that man honestly, okay? " 

Abigail again just nodded. Good girls didn’t ask questions, especially when they get asked questions themselves. Curiosity killed the cat, and she wanted to avoid punishment. “Now, Abigail, I gave him a lot of my special drinks to him, and he was able to not only track you down but talk to him?” He said with a raised eyebrow 

Abigail nodded. “Yeah, like he was talking; move his hands a lot, too,” she murmured 

“Not a surprise for a ruffian of a pirate,” Mister Crowley said with disgust. “Can’t trust sailors and especially pirates; I have no doubt he was faking his drunkenness. “ 

“He seems really …. Nice for a pirate". 

Mister Crowley looked at her “Nice?” He said softly, which caused her to shudder, though she wasn’t sure why. “Do I need to remind you it's because of these drunk idiots? You nearly drowned barely a few days old when I found you the remains of a shipwreck”, he said. “Do I need to remind you, Abigail, that I took you in when most would have left you there?”. 

The eight-year-old played with the end of the dress, feeling uncomfortable. “No sir”, she mumbled, 

“Now, what did you and Sparrow talk about, and what did he …” The blond-haired man moved closer. “Touch you?”. 

Abigail tilted her head. “No? Well, I mean, he patted me on the shoulder and head,” she murmured. “And he asked me about my age, what I eat, and if I have someone looking after me.” She kept it vague, unsure how rude it would be to tell everything. “And well, um, a bit about you, Mister Crowley, but only in like asking in me if I work for ya”, she reassured, knowing she was never meant to discuss anything with strangers. “And then he told me about his adventures!” 

“….I see,” Mister Crowley said before going silent as Abigail nervously played with her dress, unsure if she should say something else. Well, I’m glad that pirate didn’t hurt you, but we shouldn’t trust him. He is not your friend, but you can pretend he is. “

Confusion was apparent on her face as the blond man chuckled, “Abigail, no doubt he sees your skills that I taught you as a thief and figures you will be useful … I think he is after the same treasure.”

“Really? The greatest treasure of the sea?!” that was Abigail's favourite story! About 20 years ago, there was a ship battle. A pirate had secret treasure onboard, and when the ship sank, the treasure was still rumoured to be somewhere around the island. Mister Crowley was looking for years … no one knew where it was, though. “I’m old enough to know what the treasure is?”. 

“Not yet ….. but Abigail, don’t get distracted. I need you to keep being friendly to Sparrow, and you tell me everything he tells you. And I look past all your rules-breaking today.”

Abigail paused, silent for several moments. “Isn’t that lying? Good girls don’t lie”.

He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Well, no, you're just helping stop a pirate and keeping yourself by leaving out a few details,” he said as he dabbed his red face. “Remember, Abigail, find that treasure—all your debts wiped away.”  

The eight-year-old paused thinking it over. “And that's all I got to do?” She mumbled 

“For the moment, we have a lot of things today,” he said before his red face went stern. “Just be a good girl today, Abbigail; no more rule-breaking.”

“Yes sir”, she mumbled as her blue eyes looked at him with a nod. It was best to get ready for her chores.

Captain Jack Sparrow made his way back to his docks. He still felt a little hungover but was in a far better mood than he had been for a while, whistling to himself. 

He hummed a tune as his feet hit the gangplank. He looked over the Dying Gull, spotting his first mate, “Ah Gibbs, how are you?”.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. “You're in rather a good mood, Cap’n; what changed?” he asked.

Jack chuckled, “Oh, I just had a very interesting day yesterday, and I met a very interesting little lass, too.”

The older man asked, “How was she in bed, Cap'n?” He said with an amused grin.

Jack blinked for a moment. “Gibbs, it wasn’t like that, you old dog! Just met a very interesting little kid that I’m not sure about”.

Gibbs looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “What is going on in that head of yours?”. 

Jack walks to his cabin. “I met a little pickpocket who calls herself Abigail who successfully pickpocketed me” he took out his belt, seeing where she cut the belt loop to get to his pouch (he would need to replace that next time he was in Tortuga ) 

The portly man blinked his blue eyes in surprise. “She picked pocket you?” he asked incredulously before taking a gulp from his flask. “How old is she?” 

“Eight, though she doesn't look like it,” Jack muttered as he sat down and took out a bottle of rum and his compass. “Too small for her age,” his brown eyes spotted his compass arrow moving as he leaned back in his chair—the compass pointed right to the small town. “I had a very interesting night with a little one—works for a man called Crowley; something is not right about it.”

Gibbs sat down in the other chair, crossing his arms. “Jack, I’m sure it was interesting, but why would that be our issue?”

Jack waved his hand dismissively, “Gibbs, there's something about the kid—my compass pointed to her—still seems to be pointing at her.”

Gibbs blinked in surprise. “That compass hasn’t worked in months,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Aye, it's best to look into the girl and what I heard, too.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “And what was that Gibbs?”.

He leaned over in a conspiring whisper, “I overheard that William Roger’s infamous ship and his supposed treasure were snuck around here.”

Now, that was very interesting indeed 

The old story around Shipwreck Cove was that William Rodgers was a pirate with an particular luck indeed for every treasure; on any successful raids, something equally bad would happen to him, including a rather nasty incident of him losing a hand due to his pistol randomly dropping and going off.

The rumour was Rodgers’s had found an item. No one is sure what it was or where he found it, but the most common telling is that he found it in India, a small talisman of sorts, or maybe it was a necklace or maybe it was the hook -the details were different, but all version agreed that his treasure was sure where of all his good luck came from

20 years ago, during a massive storm, Rodgers had been caught in battle between two navy ships, and during the fearsome battle - his ship the Lucky Lady, was damaged and snuck Roger down to Davy Jones's locker 

But since it was around a tiny island, it was rumoured Rodgers must have used the last of his luck to hide the treasure  as they never did find his body or any remains  of the Lady Luck 

In the other version of the tale, Rodgers made sure no one could get his treasure by going down with the ship 

Either way, the only thing every version of the story agreed on was that the treasure was hidden around  either in the sea or on land  on the small island

The moment Jack closed the compass lid and his brown eyes, thinking of the treasure and how he wanted it, the moment he opened his eyes then the lid, the compass spun around for a few seconds, slowly pointing back to town. “It's still pointing to the kid”, Jack said as he gulped rum. “This could be a change to our fortunate” Who knows, maybe the kid could lead to something useful 

 Gibbs chuckled. “Change in our fortune, you say, I sensed a change in the wind, says I”.

“And I already got the kid to like me”. 

Chapter Text

The sound of singing and loud shouting kept Abigail awake as she lay in the cot. The chestnut-skinned girl tossed and turned, trying to sleep. Her cot creaked with each movement, and her blue eyes felt heavy. Yet she could hear the sounds below the wooden floorboards—she stood up and walked over to the window.  

Abigail gazed over the sea, it was the same shade of blue as her eyes, she wanted so badly to go and play beside it - maybe even learn how to swim 

She let the breeze hit her face before she spotted a figure walking off balance. The girl leaned over, spotting a familiar figure: Captain Jack Sparrow!

The eight-year-old hadn’t seen him in a few days - Mister Crowley was getting worried he wouldn’t show up again. Jack walked into the tavern, and she lost sight of him, which made her frown slightly

Jack whistled as he walked into the tavern, his brown eyes scanning the small building. The candlelight gave the place some light; the Customers were drinking, talking and singing loudly, and there was no sign of the kid living here.

The pirate went over to the bar, putting on his most charming grin when he saw one of the barmaids. “Hello, Luv,” he said as he leaned on the counter. “Mind telling me where I can find a Mister Crowley, and can I say what pretty necklace you got there?” he said with a wink. A bit of flattery never hurts.

 The barmaids giggled, “He's in his office; it's at the back. Can’t miss it.” 

Jack nodded, seeing the small door. He had been waiting for over a week, trying to find out more about William Roger’s treasurer and ensure that Mister Crowley wasn’t expecting him. He moved through the tables and booths, trying not to bump into any customers.

It's funny, less than a week ago, this place would have blended in just another tavern that barely stood out in his mind, and now Jack was very interested in the goings on.

Jack opened the door to see a man sitting at his desk, writing carefully; he looked vaguely familiar. Jack had a brief conversation before he really started to drink that day when he met the little thief. Now he got a better look at this man.

Mister Crowley was rather tall with a plump stomach; he had thin blond hair tied up in the back, and his red face seemed to stand out next to his gaudy yellow coat with its fancy gold buttons, which looked awful (even worse taste, taking in the state of that brown dirty dress and cheap boots Jack had seen Abigail wear).

Crowley lifted his head with a surprised expression, seeing the pirate leaning on the doorway casually. “Mister Crowley isn’t?” Jack said, putting on his most charming smile, which could be as disarming as his sword.

The blonde man stood up. “Listen, pirate, if you don’t leave right now”, 

“-No, no,” Jack said with a dismissive wave of the hand. “I'm not here for vengeance. I’m sure little Abigail made a mistake, and we can discuss this as gentlemen.” 

That seemed to relax Crowley, who gave him a polite and fake smile as he stood up. “Yes, of course, John Crowley is the name.”

“Captain Jack Sparrow”, the Captain struggled to keep his relaxing grin in place as he sat down without Crowley even inviting him to do so. 

Crowley cleared his throat as he put away his documents. “I appreciate your understanding. Abigail is a good girl, but she is a bit light-fingered; she must have wandered over to you, and well, running a business means I can’t always keep an eye on her.”

That might have been believable to some, but Jack knew better. The kid was good, but as Gramma Sparrow would have said, A natural thief still needs their skill nurtured, especially the skill of cutting a belt.

From what Jack had seen and heard, Crowley was the exact type to use a kid to get a bit of coin on the side. The blonde man sat down in his chair and took a handkerchief to dab his face. “I’m glad you're so reasonable, Mister Sparrow. Unlike some gentlemen, I’m sure we can come up with a gentleman's agreement to resolve this little issue”, he said with a nervous chuckle 

Jack nodded; while he was weary of most people  (losing the pearl taught him that lesson), something about this man screamed untrustworthy; he took a sip of his rum

 “Well, I'm glad we have that all sorted,” Jack said, standing up and taking a large gulp of rum.

“Leaving so soon?” Crowley asked in a confused voice.

“Yup,” Jack said with a wave of his hand; he finally smiled a genuine smile when he left the tavern without another word to Crowley.

Well, at least that went well 

Abigail cleaned the glasses with a rag; she yawned and rubbed her blue eyes. It was a long night. She knew better than to ask Mister Crowley about Captain Jack last night; besides, she didn’t want to get in trouble for spying - not to mention he seemed to be in a foul mood, so it was best to be as quiet as possible.

Still, she was curious about why he was there last night, but she needed to focus. The girl picked up another bottle to clean up the floor. Her dark hand felt the sand against the wood and the bottle with a tilt of her head. It always felt weird to touch. The girl never quite understood why such an odd texture was on her mind when she picked up the empty bottles and put them on the counters.

After another moment, the door opened, and she heard a whistle as her head turned to see Captain Jack! He moved in that swaying movement, “Hello, Captain Jack”, she said, keeping her voice low  with a shy smile, surprised to see him 

“Hey, little Abigail, “ Jack said as he leaned on the bar. “Doing your chores?”.

She nodded as her hands moved the rag, cleaning the glasses, “What do you do after your chores?”.

“I, um, just go back to my room”, she murmured. “Why Captain Sp-Jack?” Abigail quickly corrected herself 

Jack kept leaning on the counter as he took out a compass. “Was thinking, remember you said you want to see a ship up close? After your chores, I wonder if we could ask Mister Crowley about that?”

The mention of seeing the ship up close caught her attention. Abigail broke into a grin. “You mean it?” she said in excitement before her stomach dropped, remembering the rules. “No… that breaking the rules after chores, I go up to my room,” she said, repeating the rules she knew off by heart. Mister Crowley was already in a foul mood. Oh, she really get it this time if they got caught. “And going out today is a really bad idea.”

Jack gave her an odd grin; he placed his hand on her shoulder. “Abigail, you learn; it’s only breaking the rules if you get caught”, he gave her a wink

Abigail's blue eyes blink owlishly, not understanding the statement, “Well, where is Mister Crowley right now?”

She kept her voice quiet. “In his... Office,” she said, “Not meant to disturb him today.”

“So let’s just pretend you go to your room,” Jack said, his fingers mimicking the movement of walking up the stairs. “And then later, we can sneak back into your room, and Mister Crowley won’t be any wiser. “

“But good girls don’t break the rules”, the eight-year-old pointed out 

"What does it mean to break the rules?"

 She paused, trying to think over the question, “Breaking the rules … means not getting caught?” The words slowly came out of her mouth as if testing them on her tongue, daring to say them for the first time in her life 

The pirate patted her on the shoulder, “Now you got it. Clean up with your chores, and then we will be on our way, savvy?" 

As the two walked the docks, Abigail looked around in awe and fear. This was the first time ever she left without her hat in daylight, her blue eyes darted around for danger, seeing people pass them,

A few people glanced at Jack, but no one paid her any mind

It eased her mind about being caught as she got up close to all the ships! Each was a different size; they made her feel tiny. “Sheets!” Abigail pointed to large white sheets that were all tied next to a wooden pole

Jack chuckled. “No, no, they aren’t sheets. We call them sails; they help to travel the sea using the wind. The wooded part is the mast,” he said as his fingers moved in that constant motion, as they often did 

Abigail nodded, looking at the big, pretty ship, feeling giddy and learning these words: “Is that your ship?”

Jack shook his head, causing the trinkets in his hair to make noise. “My ship? She down here” He motioned for her to follow as he walked in that strange swaying of his

Abigail wanted to run, but she kept behind Jack, looking at all the pretty things they passed! The sounds of water lapping made her even more relaxed.

When they hit the edge of the boardwalk, the ship was smaller than the others at the dock, not the size of a fishing ship, but small; Abigail tilted her head. It didn't look  shiny, nor was the wood, for that matter - it was a different colour than other ships, more greyish and looked slightly uneven 

Jack patted her on the shoulder, causing her to look up. He had a strange grin. “This is my ship, the Dying Gull. Now, admittedly, she is not the prettiest or the biggest ship, nor have I gotten  her painted yet.” 

“So, um, why do you have this ship?”.

“It floats, Little Abigail”.

 “Captain Jack, what’s that?” she pointed to what looked like a mermaid on the front of the ship.

“That’s the figurehead, Abigail, you see; she carries the spirit of the ship, she protects us sailors and our ship from the harsh sea and makes sure we get home safe," he explained as the black-haired girl looked up at him again.

 “So why…. Um, isn’t she wearing anything, though?” she asked bluntly

Jack's brown eyes just blinked, his hand making rolling movements. “Do you wear clothes when you bathe?”’

Abigail's blue eyes blinked owlishly, not seeing what he meant. “No?”

His grin grew, showing those gold teeth. “Because water would wet it, right?” 

Abigail nodded. “Right…” she said slowly

“So if you were to live in water like the figurehead, would you still wear clothes if they kept getting constantly wet?”.

“I guess not,” Abigail said as it clicked in her head. “What about that?” She pointed at another part of the ship with a big wheel, wanting to know everything! 

Jack showed off his gold teeth as he grinned. “I’ll tell you when we get up close, but first, we must walk on the gangplank. Just be careful”, he said as they walked close to a wooden plank. “I’ll go first,” the pirate said, walking up the gangplank in that swaying manner, his arms above his waist.

The eight-year-old took a cautious step, feeling its strangeness. Then, the girl took another step onto the plank. It was like climbing odd stairs, feeling a soft breeze in her black hair, and soon she was on the deck of the ship; it was harder than the floors she was used to, her arms stretched out, feeling her body was moving and not at the same time. “Whoa”, she said

“Ah, you're getting sea legs already”, Jack said as he leaned on the rail. Abigail looked up at the mast with sails; everything was so much bigger! 

Abigail took a few cautious steps, feeling her body sway as she took in the Dying Gull; her dark boots beneath her dress made a few clicks. Her blue eyes darted around, each step lessening the swaying. “So what‘s the thing with the wheel?” Abigail asked in a curious voice. Why are there steps to it?”

“That quarter-deck, what we are standing in is the main deck; the wheel allows us to sail and move the ship. Do you know what the left and right on a ship are called?”.

Abigail tilted her head “Left and right?”. 

The pirate shook his head as he walked around the ship (somehow without his usual swaying). Abigail followed him as they wandered to the railing, Jack's hand patting it down. “This is Portside, right,” he explained before going to the other side. “Starboard is left.” He then touched the ropes. “This is the rigging, very important, keeps the ship from breaking or losing the mast.”   

Abigail's hands touched the railing. “Starboard is left, portside is the right”, the eight-year-old repeated as she went on her tippy toes, reaching the rope and feeling how hard and coarse they were. “Rigging“, she repeated 

“You're getting them already? Good,” Jack said, which made her smile, happy to be praised  

Her head turned, hearing the sound of a door; her blue eyes then saw the door open and out stepped someone. Abigail saw the older man; he was much older than Jack (she wasn’t good at guessing grown-up ages). His facial hair and actual hair were mostly grey with black at the edges. He was portly and wearing a white shirt, a blue vest that looked like… a coat that someone ripped the sleeve off, a brown necktie, white trousers and boots - he looked like most of the sailors she had seen before

 “Ah, Mister Gibbs, this is Abigail”, Jack said, patting her shoulder as she hid slightly behind his coat. “Abigail, this is Mister Gibbs”. 

“Hello,” he said gruffly, his blue eyes looking at her “……..Child”. 

The dark-skinned girl didn’t respond; she stared at the man, unsure of what to say. “Um, Captain, can she speak?” 

Jack looked down at her. “Ah, she being shy, come on, say Hello, Mister Gibbs doesn't bite”, he said 

“Hello,” she mumbles, “… Mister Gibbs”.  

He patted her shoulder. “See? He doesn't bite.” Captain Jack said. “He’s my first mate. Do you know what that means, Abigail?” 

The black-haired girl shook her head. “A Captain is the one in charge, but if he is not around, then the first mate is in charge of the crew.”

“Oh ….. where are the rest of the crew?” 

Mister Gibbs snorted. “He means crewmate currently”.

Abigail looked up and tilted her head as one of the ringed hands moved in a quick blur. “Mister Gibbs means that we are in the market for a proper crew. Not just anybody can be a pirate,” he said quickly. Many factors go into becoming a pirate, though not as many as would assume, such as a willingness to listen to orders, a love of treasure, and a desire to be on a ship. “ 

The girl was even more confused. “Well, now that you've met Mister Gibbs, let's explore the rest of the ship, savvy?”

Abigail followed him. “Jack Sparrow might be the strangest person I've ever met”, she thought. 

Jack kept an eye on the eight-year-old exploring his ship with a level of wonder as if everything was the most interesting she had ever seen. “Jack, why are you hanging out with the kid?” Gibbs asked in a whisper. “It is bad luck to have a woman on board, even if she is little.” 

“I need the kid to trust us. Besides, look at her,” Jack said as the girl touched the bars and her head peered into them. “I never saw anyone so happy to be down in the brig” 

Gibbs looked at him with raised eyebrows, and Abigail glanced at them, looking at something else with apprehension. Jack gave her a little wave before she relaxed, touching the barrels. “Skittish, ain’t she?” 

It seems to get worse around Gibbs, Jack's mind thinking back to the conversation he had the first day he met Abigail; she had mentioned she hid from everyone because Mister Crowley told her. No wonder she seems more shy and quiet today, outside of the general rule-breaking 

Crowley was strict, it seems. Jack wasn’t sure if it made the job easier or more complicated, but the kid had some spine going along to see a ship despite the rule-breaking. 

They had been all over the ship, from crew quarters to Gallery to the wheel; Abigail's blue eyes shone with excitement and curiosity, asking questions about every little thing, Jack to show off his ship and basics even if Mister Gibbs rolled his eyes, muttering how the dying gull wasn’t that great of a ship.

Soon, the black-haired girl came over, pulling on Jack's sleeve. “So the brig is where you keep supplies?” She asked 

“Yup, food, drink and weapons, things like gunpowder”, Jack responded 

“So why are there bars?” she asked, eyeing them curiously; the kid was observant; Jack had given her that.  

“Well, sometimes a crew member… misbehaves on the ship and breaks the rules, so they need time out”, he said, figuring that was the level she could understand, no need to get into the gory bits. 

“The nicest punished better than the  navy,” Gibbs said 

Jack could have sworn, for a brief moment, a look of fear flickered on Abigail's face at the word punishment before she pointed at the cannon balls. “Can I touch them?” She asked

“Don’t think you could pick them up,” the pirate captain commented. Now, do you want to see the captain's Cabin?” 

She nodded. “Captain Jack, why do you get the whole room?”.

“The captain has many important duties, little Abigail”.

They soon entered his cabin; it was a bit of a mess, with many maps and charts on his desk and too many bottles around his table. The rest was decent. It was smaller as cabins went but had big windows that brought in a lot of sunlight and a small plush seat in the corner. His cot was near a small table with a candle and two bookshelves on either side (held in place by ropes), 

Most of the cabin was mismatched; the dark rug and other knick-knacks all from his travels, two chests where he kept most of his equipment and clothes, the lantern above swayed slightly 

“Wow”, Abigail said as she walked into the room, looking over everything, her blue eyes darting around. “This is much bigger than most rooms on the Gull, Captain Jack”. 

Jack closed the door “Yep, now why don’t you make yourself a home, little Abigail? I have some work to do”.

The girl tilted her head. Right—Jack wasn’t used to dealing with someone in this shelter (by the looks of the thing, the girl barely knew of the outside world). “You see the little seat next to the cabin wall?” his ring finger pointed at it.

The eight-year-old nodded. “Good,” Jack paused before going over to his bookshelf. He surely had a book with pictures she could read for a bit, or at least look at 

His brown eyes scanned his books before finding one with illustrations of different types of ships. 

He held out the book, Abby's blue eyes blinking. “Aren’t books only for grown-ups? Not for children?” Abigail asked, confused

“No books are for everyone. Now, why do you look at it while I get some work done?”

The tiny girl with chestnut skin cautiously took the book, holding it as if she had never held one before. She moved slowly over to a small seat and opened the book as if it were as dangerous as a bomb.

Jack Sparrow was many things, but he wasn't an idiot. Something was off about Abigail's reaction to the book. He sat down at his own desk, putting his hat off, his eyes focused on the ledger in front of him. 

He stretched his neck before doing some of the work he had put off for …..a month

Abigail touched each page carefully, making sure not to rip it. Her blue eyes were transfixed on each drawing of the ships. They were all so different from each other—the words on the page didn’t make sense to her, but having a book was more fun on its own! 

She was sitting cross-legged on the small cushioned seat, with the book on the other side of the seat. Examining all the detail with her head down, she brushed strands of her black hair out of her face. 

Her dark, small hand turned the page, seeing what looked like a really scary ship with smoke and fire! And on top of it, a mast with a flag with a skull and crossbones. “Captain Jack, can I ask a question?”

The pirate nodded as he put a quill away. “Of course, what is it?”

She got off the seat, walked over to the desk, and pointed at the flag, “What’s that?”

Jack's eyes peered at the drawing before he gave her a wry grin. “Oh, that's the Jolly Roger - a pirate flag, see?” his finger pointed to a word. “Says it right there”. 

She tilted her head. The words were blurry, and none of them made sense to her. “Oh,” she said as her cheeks felt hot. 

Her blue eyes watched as Jack quickly wrote something down on a piece of paper. His finger pointed at it, “Abby…. Can you tell me what letter that is? “ 

She shook her head with a simple “nun un”  after glancing at the page. “Is there something wrong?”

The pirate shook his head, the trinkets in his black locks making a tiny noise. “Not at all. I just want to check something, is all. Now, why don't you go back to the book and keep looking at it while I work savvy?” 

Abigail nodded. She was pretty sure she hadn’t done anything wrong, but the dark-skinned girl didn’t want to press it further; she sat down and looked at the strange ships

Jack walked down the docks, Abby following around his shadow; he could see she was getting nervous, her blues darling around. 

It was getting sundown now - he needed to get back to the tavern by then; otherwise, things might go badly. 

As they walked the docks, his mind drifted back to his test with paper. Even the most illiterate pirates knew enough to spell their own names, but not Abby. Shame, the kid seemed to be smart, absorbing information quickly. Shame about the state the girl was in while less wild and dirty. The black kid's hair was still tangled, and she wore the same cheap dress and boots. 

He glanced down at the small black-haired figure as his fingers loosed the rope where he hung his compass - well, now to put his plan into action after they hit a dark alleyway. He stopped. “Abigail, do you know what this is?” The strap of his compass was between his fingers as his compass fell down and hung in the air. 

Abigail tilted her head slightly, her blue eyes blinking. “No, what is it?” Her voice filled with curiosity.  

“It’s a compass” Jack opens it - its arrow spins  around, and the girl seems enraptured by it (it looks like spending the day to get her comfortable was paying off). “My compass is very special - it can lead to treasure …. I heard there might be a treasure around these parts. Know anything about it?”. 

“Um, um.” Abigail's whole demeanour changed, and her face became nervous. Her blue eyes went down to the floor like kids' when they were lying. “I don’t know about that,” her voice became soft and quiet. 

“A good thief but a poor liar,” Jack thought. He had planned in case of this. The pirate had spent the whole day learning her tells—everyone had them, even the best liars. Now, he could read her like a book, granted, which wasn’t hard with a kid like Abby. “Well, seems my compass isn’t working; must have been just a rumour,” he lied quickly, putting it away.

They soon arrived at the tavern. It was busy; it seemed that all the tables were packed. The smell of smoke filled the air, and the sounds of laughter and drinking were a far cry from the dying gull. 

Jack leaned on the doorway, looking down at the tiny girl. “Think you sneak up to your bedroom, Abby? Or do you need help?”. 

She looked around, her hands playing with her dress. Her expression was focused, almost comical, with those big blue eyes. “I think …. I can handle it?” the girl mumbled. 

Jack rubbed her hair playfully. “See told you we get away with breaking the rule” he gave her a wink 

She fixed the strands out of her eyes before the small girl started to sneak, moving as silently and swiftly like a cat.  

Jack's eye followed the tiny shadow, and no one seemed to notice the small shadow before she disappeared into her room. He was about to leave, “Ah, Jack Sparrow”, when he heard a booming, if slightly smug, voice; he turned his head to see Crowley walking over “May I offer you a drink?”. 

“I can’t say no to an offer of rum.  Was wondering where little Abigail at the moment; I haven’t seen a single sign of the little one”. 

“Oh, she's just upstairs in her room playing in her bedroom,” Crowley said with a chuckle and a dismissive wave. “She goes up after her chores and dinner,” he said. 

Jack wasn’t sure if Crowley was trying to pretend he was so oblivious that he somehow never noticed that Abigail had been with him all day and not in her room or didn’t care. Edward wasn’t always around, never really retiring until Jack was older, but when Jack sneaked out as a lad, the older pirate knew where he was; it was just an unspoken agreement to pretend he didn’t. 

Jack went over to the bar and paused for his drink as Crowley followed him. “I must say, Captain Sparrow, I’m more than  happy for the business, but why do you keep coming back? Surely a captain as yourself has better things to do.”

“My crew is on leave time, so my ship is docked until then,” Jack said as he paid for his drink and took a sip.

“Oh, where is the crew currently? This oh my tavern, I could give you a discount on it” Crowley said with a chuckle 

Jack waved his hand in a dismissive motion as he walked over to an empty chair, as Crowley was still following (why was he so interested in the whereabouts of his crew? Well, okay, crewmate?) “Oh, there's no need for that mate; you got your daughter to look after and business to run.” 

“While I appreciate it, Mister Sparrow, I must correct you. Abigail is not mine; she’s an orphan. I merely her guardian as if were,” Crowley said as he sat next to Jack. He clasped his hands together 

Little Abby had mentioned she was one; the pirate just needed to confirm. He took several sips out of his rum, and his ring finger tapped against the table. He heard the loud talking surrounding them and smelled the smoke, tar, and other strong smells. 

“So, did you become Abigail.. guardian?” Jack said with a swig of rum; his eyes watched as the blond man dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief

Crowley gave him what was clearly meant to be a sad smile. “Oh, it's a tragic story; eight years ago, a storm hit us like no other …. This traven barely was standing at the end of it,” he said with a bitter chuckle. “I went looking around and found remains of a shipwreck, and there I found what I thought was a bundle of cloth. At first I thought it was nothing, but then I heard it crying,” he said

Jack raised an eyebrow, “She survived that? How old was she?”. 

“Oh, only a few days old. From what I could gather, there wasn't much of the ship left. The poor little thing had no one, and given the situation, I figured she would need someone to look after her—it's what a good Christian would do.”

Jack wasn’t sure which was more unbelievable,  Crowley's good Samaritan talk or the story of a newborn surviving a shipwreck when there no other survivors 

The two men fell into silence as Jack kept gulping his drink; his brown eyes watched the portly man converse with the other patrons (one was so large with muscles it was impressive he didn’t break a wooden chain) clearly, they were clearly regulars as he followed their drinks and in hushed whispers he said before they burst out in laughter.   

Then a thin and tall man man came in, “‘Ello, it is so good to see you, mon vieux ami” the Frenchman said as Crowley came over as they shook hands  

”Welcome Monsieur, sit yourself down” Crowley said to a Frenchman as the blond man got him to sit down “And meet the best innkeeper in the Caribbean” his tone was smug and polite. “I’m not like those types of crooks rooking their guests and cooking the book” Crowley eyes eyes glance at Jack “Sadly seldom do you see honest like me in this business. Now what drink would you like?”. 

Crowley seemed to be the type that chooses to butter up anyone who listens to the man 

Soon, Captain Jack Sparrow stood up, his bottle empty, “Well, thank you for the drink  , Crowley. I do hope we speak soon”, Jack said, holding out his hand 

Crowley shook his hand with a strange gleam in his blue eyes. “I hope the same, Mister Sparrow” 

“It's Captain Jack Sparrow, why doesn't anyone get that right?” he thought as Jack sauntered out of the busy tavern, leaning on the wooden wall he opened the compass seeing an arrow still pointed to the tavern, his brown eyes saw a small candle up the highest room.  A sigh escaped his lips. What was it about the kid that was so special and why was he hung up on her? 

The only thing certain in Jack's mind was Crowley was hiding something he knew far more than he let on, and so did the kid 

Jack took another brief glance at the top room. It looks like he needs to spend more time with little Abby to get the truth out of her.