The dirty, old stool was hard underneath William Turner's frame. His head
was in his hands, his eyes closed in pain and thought. Around him the
raucous sounds of the cabaret added to the perpetual headache that had
plagued Turner for weeks. He wondered for the thousandth time since
Elizabeth's death what he had done to deserve this fate.
Elizabeth's death. A lump formed in Turner's throat as he fought the impending depression that struggled to overcome him. Branded into his mind was the image that had greeted William as he returned from work three Tuesdays ago. Blood. Blood was everywhere. Splattered in the foyer, against the walls, the banister of the staircase slick with it. The bedroom. The nursery.
A groan escaped Will's mouth as the images flew past him. He had been too late. Too late to save the servants, too late to save his love, too late to save his son. Never in his life would he forget the carnage. Elizabeth's body, bruised, battered, defiled, lying in the bed with her throat spitefully slashed open, her son laid obscenely in her arms, his own jugular matching that of his mother's.
"Turner?"
Will shot up, his posture straightening. The owner of the voice came around the table and sat across from him. "Aye," Will replied.
"Fancy that! When they told me I thought they were whimsical, or drunk, probably both. But looks as if they were right for once!"
Turner tried on a weak smile which crumbled almost instantly. "I'm glad you came."
Captain Jack Sparrow waved his hand as if it were nothing. "Nothin' out of the ordinary for me, was coming back to Tortuga anyway." The pirate studied the dark-haired boy and with an almost eerie skill said, "Somethin' must be troubling you lad, to come seeking me, knowing full well I'm still wanted in every respectable establishment in the Caribbean."
"Aye," Will replied again, not elaborating.
Sparrow cocked an eyebrow as he took a large gulp from the tankard in front of him. "Fancy bein' a bit more explicit?"
Will took in a deep breath. "I want you to help me."
Jack had expected this but pretended to be surprised. "Help you? With what?" He looked at the boy, waiting for an answer. "Have you been drinking?" He added as an afterthought.
"You can't tell me you haven't heard," Turner said, meeting Sparrow's eyes.
Sparrow shifted his gaze uncomfortably.
"You have!" Will confirmed, a gleam in his eyes.
"Aye," Sparrow admitted reluctantly. "But I thought they was being fanciful, you know, talking rubbish and all that. You can't mean to tell me it's the truth!"
Will shook his head, studying the burned, pock marked tabletop. Sparrow shook his head in disbelief, beads tinkling. "You're serious?" He said quietly. "She's…"
A ragged breath escaped from Will's lungs as he managed to nod. Sparrow sat there, stunned. Death was a normal part of his occupation of choice. But he had never even entertained the thought that Elizabeth Turner was dead. Murdered in her bed. He couldn't believe it. Last time he had seen her she had been all done up in lace and curls, standing up for what she believed in, that irresistible sparkle lightening her eyes. Hard to believe it was only a year ago.
"Did you happen to hear about Billy?" Turner's voice interrupted Jack's musings.
"Who?" Sparrow asked, meeting the brown eyes of his companion.
"Billy. My---" Will swallowed. "My son."
Sparrow could put two and two together well enough, but he didn't want to say anything. Instead he shook his head, steadying himself for the words he knew were coming.
"Killed him. The brutes killed him." A hard edge had come to Turner's voice, one that hadn't been there before. Sparrow recognized it. It was the tone of a man suppressing rage and bitterness.
"I'm sorry mate," Jack said quietly.
"Not as sorry as I am," Will replied acridly.
Sparrow shifted again. "So, er, what is it you'd be needin' my help with?"
Will stared at him. "You're not that insane, you know exactly what I want from you."
Jack had been waiting for this moment and let out a long sigh, ready to convince Will that this wasn't what he truly wanted to do. However, Turner sped on before the words could form on the pirate's tongue.
"Don't you try and dissuade me Jack. I'm doing it with or without you, I just figure I'd have better luck in not dying if you aided me." His eyes were hot with fervor, Jack had seen the look before. That look had taken over every time Will had promised to save Elizabeth's life, or die trying.
"You don't know what you're getting yourself into," Sparrow said anyway. "You know who killed her, but you don't know the reputation behind that knave." Elizabeth's was common knowledge. Almost everyone knew of the day she had been killed brutally and in broad daylight, a message scrawled in blood on the walls left for William Turner to discover. 'Only a beginning, Anguila'.
"So? I know his name, which is enough to find him and kill him."
Sparrow shook his head. "You crazy nitwit. Anguila is a powerful, powerful man. No one can stop him."
Will couldn't believe his ears. Captain Jack Sparrow, the most resourceful and now respected pirate of the Caribbean, was telling him things were impossible. " I can't believe you're telling me it's not possible! You got the Black Pearl back when everyone thought you were just a drunken, demented has-been."
Jack winced at his words. "Easy on the slander there mate."
Will apologized but continued. "He killed Elizabeth and my son. My two month old son, Jack, and I have to do something. I can't just sit back. I won't die a coward."
The pain in the boy's voice touched Sparrow's well-guarded heart. He was not as dim as everyone thought. Jack knew full well that Anguila was determined to finish the job and dispose of Turner in the end. And Captain Jack Sparrow.
"Do you know who Anguila is?" Sparrow repeated quietly, his defenses weakening.
"He's a merchant, of sorts, or so I've heard."
Sparrow let out a rough laugh. "Let me put it this way, what's Anguila's real name?"
Will hesitated. He wasn't about to admit he had though that Anguila *was* the man's real name.
Sparrow laughed again, but his face turned serious in a flash. "Anguila is a nickname. It means 'eel' in Spanish, lad. And he was named accordingly, the slimy, cheating, scoundrel. But his real name, well, most have forgotten that Anguila started out as humble Angus Barbosa."
Elizabeth's death. A lump formed in Turner's throat as he fought the impending depression that struggled to overcome him. Branded into his mind was the image that had greeted William as he returned from work three Tuesdays ago. Blood. Blood was everywhere. Splattered in the foyer, against the walls, the banister of the staircase slick with it. The bedroom. The nursery.
A groan escaped Will's mouth as the images flew past him. He had been too late. Too late to save the servants, too late to save his love, too late to save his son. Never in his life would he forget the carnage. Elizabeth's body, bruised, battered, defiled, lying in the bed with her throat spitefully slashed open, her son laid obscenely in her arms, his own jugular matching that of his mother's.
"Turner?"
Will shot up, his posture straightening. The owner of the voice came around the table and sat across from him. "Aye," Will replied.
"Fancy that! When they told me I thought they were whimsical, or drunk, probably both. But looks as if they were right for once!"
Turner tried on a weak smile which crumbled almost instantly. "I'm glad you came."
Captain Jack Sparrow waved his hand as if it were nothing. "Nothin' out of the ordinary for me, was coming back to Tortuga anyway." The pirate studied the dark-haired boy and with an almost eerie skill said, "Somethin' must be troubling you lad, to come seeking me, knowing full well I'm still wanted in every respectable establishment in the Caribbean."
"Aye," Will replied again, not elaborating.
Sparrow cocked an eyebrow as he took a large gulp from the tankard in front of him. "Fancy bein' a bit more explicit?"
Will took in a deep breath. "I want you to help me."
Jack had expected this but pretended to be surprised. "Help you? With what?" He looked at the boy, waiting for an answer. "Have you been drinking?" He added as an afterthought.
"You can't tell me you haven't heard," Turner said, meeting Sparrow's eyes.
Sparrow shifted his gaze uncomfortably.
"You have!" Will confirmed, a gleam in his eyes.
"Aye," Sparrow admitted reluctantly. "But I thought they was being fanciful, you know, talking rubbish and all that. You can't mean to tell me it's the truth!"
Will shook his head, studying the burned, pock marked tabletop. Sparrow shook his head in disbelief, beads tinkling. "You're serious?" He said quietly. "She's…"
A ragged breath escaped from Will's lungs as he managed to nod. Sparrow sat there, stunned. Death was a normal part of his occupation of choice. But he had never even entertained the thought that Elizabeth Turner was dead. Murdered in her bed. He couldn't believe it. Last time he had seen her she had been all done up in lace and curls, standing up for what she believed in, that irresistible sparkle lightening her eyes. Hard to believe it was only a year ago.
"Did you happen to hear about Billy?" Turner's voice interrupted Jack's musings.
"Who?" Sparrow asked, meeting the brown eyes of his companion.
"Billy. My---" Will swallowed. "My son."
Sparrow could put two and two together well enough, but he didn't want to say anything. Instead he shook his head, steadying himself for the words he knew were coming.
"Killed him. The brutes killed him." A hard edge had come to Turner's voice, one that hadn't been there before. Sparrow recognized it. It was the tone of a man suppressing rage and bitterness.
"I'm sorry mate," Jack said quietly.
"Not as sorry as I am," Will replied acridly.
Sparrow shifted again. "So, er, what is it you'd be needin' my help with?"
Will stared at him. "You're not that insane, you know exactly what I want from you."
Jack had been waiting for this moment and let out a long sigh, ready to convince Will that this wasn't what he truly wanted to do. However, Turner sped on before the words could form on the pirate's tongue.
"Don't you try and dissuade me Jack. I'm doing it with or without you, I just figure I'd have better luck in not dying if you aided me." His eyes were hot with fervor, Jack had seen the look before. That look had taken over every time Will had promised to save Elizabeth's life, or die trying.
"You don't know what you're getting yourself into," Sparrow said anyway. "You know who killed her, but you don't know the reputation behind that knave." Elizabeth's was common knowledge. Almost everyone knew of the day she had been killed brutally and in broad daylight, a message scrawled in blood on the walls left for William Turner to discover. 'Only a beginning, Anguila'.
"So? I know his name, which is enough to find him and kill him."
Sparrow shook his head. "You crazy nitwit. Anguila is a powerful, powerful man. No one can stop him."
Will couldn't believe his ears. Captain Jack Sparrow, the most resourceful and now respected pirate of the Caribbean, was telling him things were impossible. " I can't believe you're telling me it's not possible! You got the Black Pearl back when everyone thought you were just a drunken, demented has-been."
Jack winced at his words. "Easy on the slander there mate."
Will apologized but continued. "He killed Elizabeth and my son. My two month old son, Jack, and I have to do something. I can't just sit back. I won't die a coward."
The pain in the boy's voice touched Sparrow's well-guarded heart. He was not as dim as everyone thought. Jack knew full well that Anguila was determined to finish the job and dispose of Turner in the end. And Captain Jack Sparrow.
"Do you know who Anguila is?" Sparrow repeated quietly, his defenses weakening.
"He's a merchant, of sorts, or so I've heard."
Sparrow let out a rough laugh. "Let me put it this way, what's Anguila's real name?"
Will hesitated. He wasn't about to admit he had though that Anguila *was* the man's real name.
Sparrow laughed again, but his face turned serious in a flash. "Anguila is a nickname. It means 'eel' in Spanish, lad. And he was named accordingly, the slimy, cheating, scoundrel. But his real name, well, most have forgotten that Anguila started out as humble Angus Barbosa."