In the Port Royal Chapel, the box pews were not parallel to the ground, they rose at an incline. So, for the common folk seated in the lower boxes, the upper class in the higher boxes seemed quite far away. If one wished to understand the hierarchy of Port Royal, all they had to do was come to the church. The highest box, which seated Governor Swann and his daughter, almost made them seem as if they were gods looking down from heaven. Will Turner found this very fitting. The reverence he held for Elizabeth was second only to the reverence he held for God himself.
It was an entirely typical Sunday morning. Bishop Sykes was giving a sermon suspiciously reminiscent of last week's message, and John Brown, the man to whom Will was apprenticed, was pretending he had not been drunk only the night before. Despite his best efforts, Will lost interest in the Bishop's lesson. His eyes roamed the room. As always, his gaze went to the highest box, where Miss Swann was seated.
Instead of quietly meditating on the state of his own heart, as was expected in church, Will often found himself reflecting on the Governor's lovely daughter. At fourteen, Will's world consisted of laboring in a dark, dank smithy, his work unjustly being credited to a man who mistreated him, and hours of swordplay by himself. Miss Swann was an escape from that. Frequently, he would think about the day that they met. Other times, he would darkly consider Captain Norrigton's interest in Miss Swann, recalling every interaction he had seen between them and testing the man's motives. Today, however, he was thinking about her surname.
How accurate, Will mused, That her last name should be Swann.
Her skin was a flawless shade of ivory, much like a swan's feathers. Like her namesake, she was the embodiment of gracefulness and elegance.
Up in her box, she seemed like some celestial creature. The colored light streaming from the stained glass windows lent an ethereal glow to her perfect features. She had only recently begun pinning up her honey brown curls, and Will thought she looked breathtaking.
"Pay attention, boy!" Brown's wife, Susan, snapped as she dug her bony elbow into Will's side. Once again, Will was drawn into the dismal world of mortals. Will's cheeks colored. He hated it when Mrs. Brown reprimanded him in public, as if he were some pathetic mutt. His temper rose, but he quickly smothered it. Unintentionally, the Browns were slowly teaching Will patience as well as blacksmithing.
Bishop Sykes' sermons were also a lesson in patience. After what seemed like an eternity, the doors opened the congregation was free to leave. Before Brown could berate him again, Will quickly slipped out of their box pew and hurried for the door. He slipped outside and stood near the churchyard gate, where carriages had begun to arrive. Long ago, Will had deduced that the only place he was certain to come face-to-face with Miss Swann was the churchyard gate. She had to leave, didn't she?
Occasionally, they exchanged a few words of greeting. Whenever Miss Swann spoke to Will, his breath caught and he was unable to speak. He felt honored that she should take notice of him. Once or twice, she teased Will a bit, and he held onto those interactions as if they were his most valuable possessions.
The more well-to-do citizens of Port Royal slowly boarded their carriages. Will saw Governor Swann pass, Captain Norrington at his side, but Miss Swann was not with them. Sometimes, Will recalled, she hung back, speaking with the other young ladies.
After a few moments, Miss Swann passed. He willed her to look at him. As if by divine intervention, her warm brown eyes met his.
"Will," she said brightly, her rosebud-like lips spreading in a smile.
"Miss Swann," he answered, bowing deeply. His heart pounded against his ribs like waves against the bow of a ship during a storm.
As fate would have it, Governor Swann called for Elizabeth before the two could make any more conversation.
"Elizabeth!" he exclaimed from inside of the carriage, "Hurry up, my dear!"
"I must be going," Elizabeth said, "Good day, Will."
Seeing no footman, Will promptly decided to help Elizabeth into the carriage himself. He grasped her hand as gently as if it were a dove, and Elizabeth blushed a deep, rosy pink, only making her look more beautiful.
"Many thanks, Mr. Turner," Governor Swann said, as Elizabeth seated herself beside him.
"Of course, sir," Will responded, bowing again. His eyes met Elizabeth's once more before the carriage departed, and she smiled shyly.
Will stared forlornly after the carriage, until it was nothing more than a faint cloud of dust on the sandy road. Anything more than a casual friendship between Elizabeth and him was impossible, improper even. People of his station and those of hers rarely even made acquaintance, let along pursued any sort of relationship. It was probable that she would grow to be a great lady, some Commodore's wife, and he would take over Brown's smithy, at best. Will knew his love for Elizabeth was hopeless and foolish, but one look at Elizabeth, and he was filled with feelings of such adoration that it killed all rationale.
"Turner! Over here!" A voice yelled, jostling Will out of his thoughts. The voice belonged to Isaac Barnum, and was coming from the thick bushes that surrounded the side of the chapel. This was the place where the rowdier boys convened after the service. Will rarely joined them.
Will reluctantly walked to the bushes and crawled under. Aside from Isaac, he recognized several others, all apprentices like himself but a few years older. They were the type of boys who stole wicked glances after passing wenches and always wore devilish grins.
"I see you handed Elizabeth in," Isaac began. His voice was benign, leading Will on, like a leviathan just before attacking.
"It's Miss Swann," Will corrected, waiting for the strike.
"Do you have any intentions toward her?" Isaac asked mischievously. The other boys leaned forward, teeth glinting in the shadows of the bushes.
"It's hardly proper to be discussing her this way," Will said tightly.
"It's no more improper than gazing after her carriage like a lovesick puppy," Isaac responded, causing several boys to chuckle. Will did not respond. He could not deny that he had, indeed, been watching her carriage depart.
"I am not sure why you would be interested in her…" Isaac said, "A soft, spoiled little noble man's daughter. Besides, she wouldn't be interested in a commoner like you."
"Don't you dare speak ill of Miss Swann," Will growled, "She is the kindest, most gracious young lady it has ever been my pleasure to know." The boys laughed, and Will fumed. He felt his body stiffen with adrenaline.
"How interesting," Isaac mused aloud, "That her last name is Swann. Judging by her bodice, she is barely even a cygnet!"
At this, the boys burst into raucous laughter, and Isaac looked smugly satisfied. He grinned cheekily and opened his mouth to make another ill-mannered witticism when Will's fist connected with his jaw and sent him back into the branches of the bushes. The other boys stopped laughing mid-howl.
"Never speak of Miss Swann that way again," Will exclaimed, noting with dark pleasure the blood streaming down Isaac's chin, "Never even look at her, you hell-spawned wretch!"
"I'll do as I please," Isaac said, though he had lost a bit of his bluster, "You're not my master!"
At this, Isaac heaved his frame off of the ground and launched himself at Will. He rained strikes down onto Will's face, and Will swung out and dealt Isaac a blow to the stomach. Suddenly, Will heard a voice coming from outside the bushes.
"William Turner! Get out of those bushes!" It was the voice of Mrs. Brown, and she sounded shrill, which Will knew meant she was well beyond angry.
Just as Will's head was barely out of the bushes, he felt Mrs. Brown's bony fingers pinch his ear and pull him painfully upward. Isaac climbed out of the bushes as well, to be greeted by a very red-faced Mr. Barnum.
"I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Barnum, young Isaac," Mrs. Brown said quickly, ducking her had at each, "I'll make certain that this lad feels the sting of a switch on his back, and no mistake!"
As she dragged Will back in the direction of the smithy, Mrs. Brown began a very familiar lecture. "My husband and I take you, a wretched orphan, into our home, and this is how you thank us? By making a spectacle of yourself, by brawling with another young man at the house of the Lord? What would prompt you to do such a thing?"
Will did not respond, but stared down at the dusty road. Mrs. Brown gave him a hard smack to his already bruised cheek.
"Answer me, boy!" She shrieked.
"Isaac spoke ill of Miss Swann," Will finally answered.
"The Governor's daughter? What concern is she of yours?" Mrs. Brown asked.
"I could not just sit there while Isaac made disrespectful comments about her," Will said staunchly, "So I struck him."
"All for Elizabeth Swann?" Mrs. Brown asked, bewildered.
Will's chest swelled with devotion as he answered, "Indeed. All for her."