“Arson?”

“Oh!  That!” says Jack, relieved.  “That’s an old one.  And it wasn’t really arson.  It wasn’t deliberate.  It was just a bit of fun that got out of hand.  You know how it is.”

“I do.  I do!”

“Bloody bailiffs.  Should keep their noses out of innocent gunpowder experimentation and concentrate their feeble and irritating efforts on the real bastards in this world. Of which,” declares Jack, “there is, frankly, no shortage.”

“How true!  I’ve also had many occasions to wish that our brothers in the legal fraternity – not to mention the military – had a more discerning approach to lawbreakers.”

“Exactly!  Because there’s lawbreaking that’s bad, and then—”

“—there’s the sort that doesn’t matter a damn!”

“That’s purely for entertainment’s sake!”

“Or for a perfectly good reason.”

“And yet you get lumped in with all the nutters and murderers and what-have-you.”

“I know!  I mean, really – they’ve tried to hang me – HANG ME! – just for fucking!” cries Jack Sparrow, vitriolic with indignation.

“Ridiculous,” says Jack, who’s encountered something similar with regard to a particularly dirty wee creature who turned out to the be the runaway daughter of a viscount.  They shake their heads.

“Mr Shaftoe,” says Jack Sparrow, after a moment’s contemplation of the vicissitudes of life on the wrong side of the law, “do you by any chance fancy a bit of a Caribbean jaunt?”

END...

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