Bootstrap looked across the small parlor at the woman he hadn't seen for some eight months. She had the same sweet disposition that he remembered from before but it was laced with her hidden, fiery spirit. There was definitely something different about her though.
"You just arrived and you're leaving?"
"The Pearl is. We're going home."
"To her family?"
"She was my wife."
"Was, Bill. I am your wife now," she crossed the room in a fit of fluttering skirts and cold air to look out the mucky windows to the equally mucking day. Brown sludge seemed to coat everything from tree top to shoe bottom. "Why must I always play seconds to your first love? Though, even she wasn't good enough for you, was she?"
Bill puffed out his cheeks and slowly let the air escape his lips, "What can I say? I love the sea. But that doesn't mean that I don't love you just as much. The sea is just in my blood."
"And treasure?"
He raked his upper lip several times with his bottom teeth before replying, "That's the only way to survive sometimes. The thrill of obtaining the unobtainable. You don't know what it's like."
She turned away from the dreary day and looked at her husband, "Not all treasure is silver and gold, Bill."
"What that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," she sighed, resting her hand on her protruding stomach.
Shaking his head he crossed the room in two strides and took her hands in his. "Tell him about me."
"What makes you think we're having a boy?"
"I can sense it. And tell him about his brother?"
The woman in the light green dress felt a cold shiver run down her spine even though it was stuffy in the small parlor. "Of course."
Seemingly unaware, the pirate continued, "they'll grow to be great friends."
"Certainly."
"We've gotta go, mate," murmured Bootstrap's companion. The woman had hardly even given the captain a second thought when she saw them enter the home only minutes before. Of course she knew what it meant at the time; they were shipping out.
"So is that it? Two minute visits every year and that's enough to call you my husband? The channel's not that wide. You can stay an extra day at least."
"M'lady, we're shippin' out to the Americas after tomorrow. To catch favorable winds, we must leave tonight. You understand, love."
She shot the captain of her husband's ship a scathing look. The man had a wicked grin of gold teeth and always looked as if he might topple over at any moment. Long, dark hair and a long goatee, he always gave her the impression of a pirate though Bill never confirmed nor denied her suspicions.
"Name him after me?" he asked, looking coyly out from under his brow.
A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, "What is it about you Bill that just tugs on my heartstrings?"
"Irresistibly handsome?"
Her smile grew, "that might be it. But I think it's your loyalty; if not to me than to your ship." She paused and looked over his shoulder to the captain. "Keep him safe, Jack?"
"I promise, as long as he's under my care, your husband will be safe."
"Thank you." She walked the men to the door and placed her husband's hand on her stomach, "Say goodbye to your father, Will."
"Will?"
"Well, you don't expect him to go by William if you don't, do you?"
"S'pose not. Bye love."
She kissed him, tears escaping her eyes, and prayers passing her lips.
Jack and Bill stepped into the cold evening, turning the collars up on their jackets to keep as much of the English rain out as they could. "She is a lovely woman. You've been very lucky in the mate area, mate."
Chuckling a bit, Bill said bitterly, "Funny way to treat the women I love. It was Antoinette then, Catherine now."
"That good heart of yours will get you in trouble one day."
"Possibly," Bootstrap muttered, dodging a carriage and turning towards the docks. "Thanks for letting me see my wife, Jack. And my son tomorrow."
"Ah, Max. I love that little fella. I can tell he has some pirate in him."
"Try telling him that. Five years old and walks around with a rapier swishing it about as if he were the d'Artagnan."
Jack shuddered at the thought of a brief run-in with the King's Musketeer and quipped, "not a eunuch, that one. But still, pirate blood runs through Max's veins."
"Possibly. What can I say?" He grinned as the Pearl came into view. "Although, his grandmother promises me," he began normally, finishing in a higher, effeminate voice, "he will be the next Captain of the Musketeers. You can count on it."
"Well, no one's perfect," Jack responded, hopping first onto the rope ladder. They were quickly at home on the deck of the Pearl once more and were greeted with a scarce crew willing to weather the rain.
"My ears be a'burnin'," came a gruff voice behind them. They spun on their heels to be face-to-face with Barbossa. "You wouldn't be talkin' 'bout me, would you?"
Jack squinted his eyes and puckered his lips, "Let's hope not," he uttered before looking fondly to the helm. "On deck, you scabrous dogs! Get to your stations!" Slowly, he walked to the ship's wheel, running his finger along the sodden rails and ducking slightly as large heavy drops fell from the gathered sails every now and then. There was nothing like being on the deck of the Pearl. It was his. It might not have been a wife or a family, but it was his.
Quietly, he gazed out over the gloomy water and, with a slight smile and visible excitement, requested, "Now, lets us make this ship famous."