1. Adapting
The choices we make are sometimes not the ones we should have made, although regardless of the outcome we try valiantly to remain steadfast and honor them. In the wake of second doubts, perhaps dread, or fear of failure. One presses on to perform as best they can under the variable circumstance. The joy of others may be dependent upon or reliant to our acts on spurt of the moment decisions. Therefore it is imperative that we remain true to course, or adhere to that particular word or bond given in promise, forging through the days past where there was once freedom to do as we will, before such a commitment was made to another.
Such was the fated life of one Elizabeth Swann-Turner.
Two years since she made the promise, said the words and performed the ceremony upon the Black Pearl that day of days. There was an instant amid the heat of battle, she had wed her childhood sweetheart William Turner on impulse. It seemed like the right thing to do. Who would have thought the odds would lean towards them surviving? Coming out alive against battling the gauntlet of immeasurable offense; facing off with Davy Jones and the inhuman crew of the Flying Dutchman? Unheard of odds. But they had won, and unfortunately at a cost so dear to Elizabeth, it hardly felt the trade was worth the bargain that was struck. She and Jack made the decision of how William Turner's fate would unfold, a silent agreement of anguished glances. It happened when William Turner clung to life having been felled by a blade of misfortune. But Captain Sparrow took up the broken saber and plunged it into Jones' vile heart, using Turner's hand clasped about the weapon which also sealed his fate.
From that unimaginable moment onward Elizabeth Swann had found herself being married to a living corpse. An immortal bound to a duty and future decade of being without her at his side. The afternoon before she parted ways with her brand new spouse was one of mixed emotions. She was elated Will was alive and not completely dead, but yet to make love and consummate their union was difficult. There were factors unbeknownst to Turner, and Elizabeth did not feel it was worth a discussion with her newly acquired spouse, not now. Her only focus was to get through what had to be done before saying goodbye. Not only in the physical sense of having forfeited her innocence before she was wed, but all her expectations being a disappointment. And at the end of this tumultuous day Elizabeth found herself alone. Will Turner had to serve his duty as Captain of the Flying Dutchman to ferry the souls lost at sea. A valiant and noble task to be certain, one which he had his long lost father at his side to help fill his long days of eternal servitude.
But what did she have?
Elizabeth was made the Pirate King, but for all the good she could do there, it was of little value. Pirates being what they were, like creatures of habit they were back out upon the seas again as marauding brigands. None stayed about to listen to her unless there was a dispute, or a formal gathering called among the Brethren. That did not occur, nor was it likely to happen any time too soon. Since the Pirate Lords had pretty much earned their rights back to the territories they once reigned upon the seas, off they went. So in this time of two years of in-between action, Elizabeth settled down on her own to just 'live' her life as best she could under the circumstances which she had been dealt.
It was pleasant in the land where she ultimately settled. A small community named Boddentown in the outer regions of Grand Cayman Islands…Little Cayman, as it was locally called. Her notoriety there was not as Elizabeth Swann, pirate….but even under the common address of Mrs. Turner, she had earned the anonymity she desired here. Granted, her life here was pretty obscure, but after all the death an running from British nooses, this was a pleasant exchange. The niche she carved out as a respected and valued local was fine for now.
There were a few other families granted the privilege to settle here on Little Cayman Isle as well, since they were politically associated with the British Jamaican governor. The largest family of settlers residing there were the Boddens. A large family with many relatives, they settled there as well and seemed a friendly sort. They kept to themselves and left Elizabeth to go about freely undisturbed. If they crossed paths, Elizabeth earned respectful nods and pleasantries when seen. The Boddens were more concerned with renovations of St. James' Castle. The last and recent storm had caused quite a bit of damage. Lightly they maintained order and ran the political force of Little Cayman. They kept the island stable and safe for the other residents granted properties to settle there as well. It was a fast growing community, but afforded a lazy life which Elizabeth welcomed after her hectic expose as Pirate King and pirate lady extraordinaire. Now it was a time for her to enjoy her life, reflect, and gather her wits as to what might be the next phase of her long journey.
Nobody was focused on one, lone woman who ghosted about only to be seen every now and then. She was subdued and kept to herself. Most of the citizens were too busy just getting on and still worried about their settlement. There had been reports that the British Navy was still fighting piracy as their common goal to free the seas. Elizabeth was only seen as a commoner, so she could come and go within the main town and other various villages at her leisure. It was this one particular afternoon of this same day when she decided to take a visit in the local pub. There was only one pub on this side of the Little Cayman Island, called the Cayman Reef. No doubt it was named after the famed reef of Bloody Bay which claimed the bow of many a schooner and bigger ships, for it was a deadly strip of water. Elizabeth had heard stories of sailors abandoning their sinking ships where the reef claimed their vessels, no doubt from a captain unaware of this hidden, underwater menace.
Most days Elizabeth traveled to the market to buy fresh food. Having accomplished her usual tasks, now she was hankering for a tankard of rum. Elizabeth sat at her favorite table under the outdoor thatched canopy and sipped her brew. She stared out at the setting sun and the brilliant streaks of vermilion and deep purples. The blazing sun was a dazzling orb of vibrant yellow-orange as it slowly sank down to greet the churning waves of the sea.
Elizabeth sighed as she pondered over her life so far. She had been very reflective over the past several weeks for some reason. She knew not the nature of her melancholy, but it took the form of long walks along the powdery beaches under such a sky as this. Elizabeth wondered, was William Turner looking at this very same sky? Was he sailing in different waters perhaps which contained a different awning of sunset hues? She sighed heavily as her index finger played with the misty base of her drink, the cool rum creating condensation on the lower segment of her tankard. Was he dutifully keeping watch over those who perished at sea? Was Will enjoying the fame that he claimed when he was thrust into that role as Ferryman of the Dead? Elizabeth was not so sure of how it all took place. It was so fast, the exchange of looks between she and Will, and then Jack stepping into the scenario and thinking quickly to alter a hastening death. Did they do the right thing after all?
Something flickered in the shadows of the foliage off to the side of the pub grounds. In her peripheral vision Elizabeth thought she saw―well thought she spotted movement which took shape of a figure. It was so fast and fleeting, but the outline of it seemed to form the image of a man. He seemed to dart about and skulk past the plush ferns and just faded between the tall palm trees. Her amber eyes sharpened as she studied the movement of the large plants, their long leaves flowing in the now latest bluster of wind. She listened, but all Elizabeth could hear was the soft and distant rush of breakers hitting the shore line.
What on earth was it? Surely I could not have imagined such a brief fantasy as that?
"I must have drunk too much rum, I should imagine that's all it was." She mused with a half-hearted chuckle over the incidental vision.
"Is there anything else you want madam?"
Elizabeth nearly jumped out of her skin at the suddenness of the bar maid, tending to her libation needs. Chuckling to herself for being so skittish and feeling a fool, Elizabeth shook her mop of blonde curls and mused at her own ridiculous notions. What a silly goose she must have appeared to the girl. Elizabeth was far too seasoned in life to become a budding and blushing maid of such incidents, but her cheeks had flushed with embarrassment of having being caught jumping from abrupt fear.
"Oh no, thank you very much…this is quite nice; nothing more for me." Elizabeth replied pleasantly.
The bar maid smiled in departure, pleased by the large quantity of coins she received as tip which Elizabeth had deposited into her palm.
Alone again, as if pulled by some unforeseen force which commanded her to look, Elizabeth's eyes once more averted to the corner of the grass hut structure. As the last time, she could have sworn there was a lurking figure just around the corner that she could not quite catch. It appeared as soon as her eyes honed in on the object, it instantly melted into the brush as a haze, like a mirage.
With the inability to discern what this trick of the light was, Elizabeth assumed it was just the heat of the day playing with her eyes. Maybe that combined with the rum and her state of mind…anything other than a supernatural reason. Elizabeth dismissed the shadow as a trick of the dying afternoon light and the balmy off shore breeze. The winds were currently kicking up and enveloping the beach with anew rush of blustery gusts. It felt warm and divine as it coveted her slightly tacky body from an earlier sweat. Elizabeth gathered up her parcels from the market and made for home.
Home to Elizabeth was not a stately pirate ship or even a pirate compound, nor was it a governor's mansion. What it was, a comfortable wooden bungalow with a thatched roof. It was built for her high upon the bluff which overlooked the deadly reef beyond in the Bloody Bay. From her lofty bungalow, there Elizabeth saw the entire north easterly shore of the island, a good vantage point to be on guard for the Royal Navy visits. On those days Elizabeth would lie low and disappear from the lower villages. It was usually a day or so when they inhabited the inlet. On rare occasions they would be visited by pirates, but only those at rest and not actively stirring up trouble. On those days as well Elizabeth remained incognito and unseen. How unfortunate it would be for any pirate to recognize the Pirate King among the denizens here and destroy her cover. So this was her lookout point over what was named Bloody Bay. This was her safe haven and comfortable abode. Rarely did ships dock on the south side of the island, but those which did were usually there for dubious or covert reasons.
She walked up to the bluff which meant a long hike at a constant incline. There were two paths to her home. One from the village, and the other a steep set of stone stairs constructed on the face of the bluff. This gravel path from the main village was longer, but an easier climb. The only aspect of the trip was an unpleasant spot that spooked Elizabeth. Most of the walk was pleasant, however there was one segment of this gravel road which Elizabeth disliked the most. There was an area which held two abandoned buildings. Built a long time before the island started to become really populated, there were a few abandoned buildings left. This one structure appeared to be a large home. At one time it was probably the major residence. Opposite the pebbled path, there was a smaller building that was obviously at one time the barn. During the day it was unassuming, but when the sun died in the sky, ominous shadows seemed to be cast at every angle of these structures.
Elizabeth would always hasten her steps to get past them. Of course she told herself nothing was in them except maybe a stray bird or an occasional rodent, but it was such a dark and dreary place now that it was abandoned and unkempt. The awkward tilt of the window frames always appeared to have a face within; peering at her with a toothy grin. Elizabeth shuddered to get the morose images out of her mind and scurry along. Once she passed them, the trip became a pleasant stroll once more. She tried to concentrate on the sound of the crunch-like sound of the gravel beneath her shoes, not the sound of the wind moaning through the loose wooden planks that were nearly falling off the edifice of the larger building.
The sun either set quicker than she anticipated, or Elizabeth had imagined she initiated her walk too late in the day than she should have. Losing track of the days was easy since this time of year daylight was growing shorter as well as the golden orb's visit in the sky. It was getting dark very quickly and Elizabeth knew she had no other ways to go. It was only getting past this one eerie spot that daunted her in the evening hours. It was a silly quirk of hers, especially from the experiences she had lived through, fighting bigger and real-life monsters was far more daunting than these remote, unseen marauders of her imagination. This was purely a contrived result of her overactive imagination.
"I am acting like a bloody fool! Come on, Elizabeth….carry on and do not dawdle. It is only a few more paces and you shall be through the worst of it."
"Oh, I highly doubt that…." A resonant but distant voice echoed hers.
Elizabeth spun around with a start, terrified that she had totally lost her mind or indeed there was a response from her figment of imagination. Frantically her head shot towards the smaller structure, seeking out the foe of her psyche. When all was lost and Elizabeth thoroughly became convinced she had lost her wits, a dark figure appeared. It emerged from the corner of the dilapidated structure. Hand at the ready by her waist, Elizabeth was prepared to pull a hidden knife from her belt; a trusty weapon in spite of her spectral visitor…or was it?
"Who are you!" she shouted with a commanding and powerful voice, not giving away her inner alarm to the phantom, "..state your name and purpose!"
It was not Elizabeth's imagination, for out into full view came the looming and dark figure she had assumed was a figment of her imagination. It started loping towards her with the stretch of one leg out in front of the other, in a steady and rhythmic syncopation. But as she stood there stilled and in place, the figure of a man did not speak at first and it unnerved her. Elizabeth held fast, her fingers gripping hard around the handle of her blade as she shouted out once more with a firm tone.
"Halt right there until you identify who you are―or….or I promise I will do you a good deal of mischief, Sir!"
Elizabeth had barked with admirable power and an authoritative tenor of command. The figure had stopped short in its tracks so quickly, it swayed a bit with the reversed momentum. But the longer she stared at the man, there was a familiarity about the rhythmic movement, the carriage about this stranger….something so primeval and dauntingly rare―only one other person in the world held such a naturally tipsy and unbalanced stature.
"Who are you!?" she warned once more at the stationary figure again.
"Ah! Pity, that….no memory of me a 'tall, then?"
Elizabeth held her breath…It couldn't be….there was no sign of his ship in the bay. The chance of that pirate finding her here of all the places in the world, even in the region of this hemisphere, how could it possibly be him? Swallowing hard to get the saliva going in her mouth, to loosen up her restricted throat from the tension and duress to speak, Elizabeth stammered out of breath,
"Jack? Jack…..Sparrow?"
.