Pirates of the Caribbean: The Price of Freedom

“I dunno,” Jack said, dubiously. “Give me one good reason why I
should let you climb into my boat.”
The boy smiled, tossing his hair back. His blue eyes were brilliant,
and filled with laughter. Reaching down for the leather strap Jack could
see slung around his neck, he gave it a tug. “Because I have two
bottles of water, some biscuit, and a bit of salt beef ?” he asked.
Jack smiled and extended his hand. “Welcome aboard, lad,” he
said. “Jack Sparrow.”
“Robby Greene.” They shook.
With some maneuvering, Jack managed to balance the boat so
Robby could boost himself in. When the boy was safely on board,
Jack, humming a jaunty pirate tune, fished Tia Dalma’s compass out of
its place of concealment in his waistband.
“What’s that?” Robby asked, then he peered closer. “Oh,” he said,
in tones of profound regret, “it’s broken.”
“No,” Jack said. “It’s not. This is our salvation, lad.” Closing his
eyes, he concentrated on the idea of the closest land that had food and
fresh water. He pictured clear springs, clusters of ripe bananas, and
delicious tortoises sunning themselves.
When he opened his eyes, he saw the compass needle pointing
due east. Jack pointed. “That way, lad.” He pointed behind Robby, and
cheerfully handed him the oars.
Over the next few days, he learned a lot about Robby Greene. At
the age of ten, the boy had been grabbed by a press gang in Bristol
when he’d accompanied his father to market to sell some pigs. Forced
to serve as a powder monkey in His Majesty’s Navy, Robby had sailed
aboard a vessel bound for the Caribbean. When the naval vessel had
docked in Port Royal, he’d deserted, then found a berth as cabin boy
on a merchant ship bound for England, determined to go home to his
family. But, in keeping with Robby’s run of bad luck, somewhere off
Bermuda the merchant ship had fallen prey to La Vipère, and Robby
had wound up with a choice that faced many crewmen and
passengers of captured ships—turn pirate, or be killed. He’d chosen
to join Christophe’s crew, and had spent several years passing himself
off as a ruthless rogue pirate.
“I stabbed a lot of corpses,” he said, ruefully. “And, of course,