Jack was employed into service for the East India Trading Company and was given command of the Wicked Wench. However, after he set free a cargo of slaves, his employer, Cutler Beckett, had Jack branded as a pirate and the Wench set aflame and sunk. After failing to rescue the Wench, Sparrow struck a bargain with the ghostly captain of the Flying Dutchman, Davy Jones, to resurrect his beloved vessel. Jones returned the ship to Jack in near perfect condition except for the permanently charred hull. This prompted Jack to rename her the Black Pearl.
Jack Sparrow just got way cooler.
Yo, this is why Norrington said he’s the “worst pirate I’ve ever heard of,” and then Jack followed it up with, “But you have heard of me.”
Because Jack was branded a Pirate because he freed people rather than stealing anything. So Norrington, with his sense of duty, knows that Jack has been branded a criminal for actively not being a terrible human being. Norrington is torn between his duty as a naval officer and knowing that Jack is right.
He freed exactly 100 people, that’s why his debt to Jones was 100 souls. Davy has a sick sense of irony after all. Jack freed 100 souls and as a consequence his ship got sunk. Now his ship has been raised and as a consequence, he has to enslave 100 souls. This explains his reluctance to actually pay back the debt.
Crap, the latter portion of this franchise was a lot smarter than I thought it was…
There’s so much people don’t get about this franchise, the story is really more complex than just “funny drunken pirate meets hottie lady and hottie man with occasional visits from squid man”.
"Occasional visits from squid man"
This is my son, Chester, who is nearly 4. He was invited to his friend Chloe’s birthday party today, the theme was prince and princesses. He asked if he could go as Sleeping Beauty, so I bought him a dress and put a cute little clip in his hair.
We arrived at the party to the following comments from the adults present:
“Oh that is just cruel.”
"Why did you make him wear a dress?"
"Poor little man, what’s your mummy playing at?"
"He’s going to hate you when he grows up."
"No way I’d let my son dress like a girl."
The fact is, Chester is almost completely gender neutral. I let him wear what he wants, be it boys or girls clothes, and he plays with whatever toys he likes. This usually involves him holding tea parties while wearing his pink Minnie Mouse top, jeans and a tiara. The guests are more often than not a mixture of Winnie The Pooh characters, dinosaurs, Barbie, Dora and solders, and they’re usually transported in his favorite fire engine.
When my husband arrived at the party later on, he was subjected to endless ridicule from the other dad’s present about how I must keep his balls in my back pocket because otherwise he would have put his foot down and not allowed Chester out like that. Oh, and by the way, our other son dressed as Ariel. When my husband pointed out that the boys were happy, and the mother of the birthday child made a point of saying how wonderful she thought it was that we allowed them freedom of choice and expression, they then stopped talking about it to our faces and started muttering about us behind our backs.
Interestingly enough, not a single child said a word about their choice of costumes, other than to compliment Chester on his new dress.
I remember wanting to become an actress since about five years old. I blame a lot of it on an actress friend called Lisa Harrow who swept into our lives about then. She seemed impossibly glamorous and beautiful and both my brothers and father had massive crushes on her. I remember thinking whatever she is doing she has got it right. I still wonder today if Lisa had been a plumber, my life would have taken a different turn. Later on, when I was thirteen my father became dreadfully ill and it was then that I looked up theatrical agents in the yellow pages and phoned one up and got on her books. It might have been a curious reaction to have when your father was critically ill in intensive care, but looking back with the long, birdseye view that time can give, I can see it made perfect sense: I did it in attempt to escape and create my own reality, which is what acting can be – a loss of yourself into somebody else. A holiday from myself. What I can’t get over is that I have been paid very good money taking all these holidays.
It’s a species of jumping spider, Simaetha sp., found in the Sraburi Province of Thailand. Again, not sure of the exact species so not much info on this guy except that these particular fellows were only 4mm in length.
So precious! They look like they’re covered in festive candy wrappers.