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[Disclaimer: The following is based on a Disney-created character and story that I take no 
credit for. The rest of the work, however, is mine.]


Military drums played a steady beat as the Caribbean Sun
beat strongly down upon the town of Port Royal.
Men and women, in thick cotton attires and tiered dresses
Found themselves in great discomfort, for there was no breeze
save that which was created by their own lace fans.

The Union Jack hung quite stationary on its mast,
as did the Jack Rackham of a certain black ship
that was harbored in the bay. Everyone was silent.
For despite the intense sun, it was a dark day. 
Those flags were not the only Jacks to be hung.

A monotonous voice read off a list of grievances 
that a man was being sentenced to die for. 
Mind you, it was a rather long list, and the man 
to which they pertained stood on the wooden platform.
His face was set with the acceptance of his fate.

His hands were in chains before him, and a knotted rope
was being securely tightened about his neck.
The hand of a man in a black mask dripped sweat
onto the wooden lever that would end the pirate’s life.
Jack Sparrow knew there was no escape.

The sun only seemed to grow hotter, 
further increasing the discomfort of the gathered crowd. 
Jack would be pleased to know that even on his dying day, 
he remained to be a thorn in the side of respectable society.
However, that thorn was about to be removed.

((continued in Part 2))

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