Strictly speaking, a ‘job’ was the last thing Captain Jack Sparrow was ever going to consider himself possessing. An ‘errand’ was hardly better. So, whenever he set out on the odd smuggling trip, he preferred to think of it as a venture, a lucrative opportunity, or, on even rarer occasions, a favour. These poor folk of Aruba were sorely in need of commodities and they in turn were willing to sneak some of their aloe across the waters as medical supplies. The cargo wasn’t illegal in the least, it just wasn’t permitted to go where it was going at such a low price or in the hold of a pirate ship.
Jack waited aboard while his crew heaved things about, keeping an eye out for any Dutch ships. A flutter of wings caught his attention and he looked up to see, of all things, a red macaw, settled in the mast above Mr Cotton and his own parrot. The bird was a strange-looking sort, plumper in build than most of its kind, and Jack didn’t think he’d ever seen a parrot with eyebrows before.
Nevertheless, a parrot was a parrot and Jack didn’t much care for animals. He tolerated Mr Cotton’s parrot well enough but that was normally his limit. He drew his pistol and aimed it at the bird.
“Oi! Clear off! We’ve already got one of you aboard and me crew ain’t scrubbing the leavings of two.”
With any luck, his shouting would spook the creature away. Firing the pistol wasn’t exactly sensible given they were trying to keep a low profile.