Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Blue eyes snapped open.
Tap.
A pair of young feet scuffled to the window and opened it, the next pebble aimed at the glass zooming inside and clattering to the floor somewhere in the room.
"Beck! C'mon, it's low tide!" fifteen-year-old William Turner hissed from the lawn below.
"Will, you know I can't sneak out!" Beckon Swann replied.
"Just this once? Please?" Will pleaded.
"Fine." Beck replied, grinning. Will returned the grin.
Two minutes later, Beck emerged from the house, properly dressed now, shutting the front door quietly behind him.
"C'mon, I want to show you something." Will whispered. His eyes were bright with excitement, reflecting in the bright moonlight overhead.
"O-okay." Beck replied shyly. Will grabbed his hand and dragged him off. Neither of them thought anything of it, they were just children.
"What did you want to show me?" Beck asked as they raced down the streets of Port Royal toward the beach.
"You'll see!"
"Wow..." Beck and Will breathed at the same time. The boys were crouched in the damp sand about a hundred feet out into the harbor, staring at a waterlogged chest in front of them.
"Let's take it." Will breathed, trailing his fingers over the rotted wood. The boys could just barely see the faint outlines of gold bullion inside, the coins glinting in the still-bright moonlight.
"Okay." Beck replied quietly. Each boy took a handle and began picking their way back to shore, sidestepping bits of wood and coral, their bare feet barely leaving a mark in the wet sand.
"Isn't this dangerous?" Beck panted. The chest was heavier than it seemed, and both boys had sweat pouring down their backs.
"Nah. The tide shouldn't come back in for a while. But when it does, one has to be careful." Will said, grinning.
"Ah. OW!" Beck yelped, dropping his end of the chest.
"What's wrong?" Will asked, dropping the chest as well.
"M-my foot..." Beck sniffled. Blood dripped off his toe from where he'd stepped on an urchin.
"Sit right here. I'll fetch our shoes. You'll be fine, little bird." Beck gave a small smile at the nickname and wiped his nose on his shirtsleeve. Will stood and began jogging back to the beach where they'd left their shoes.
Beck examined his foot, gagging slightly as the blood continued to run from his toe. He thought for a moment, then untied his cravat and began wrapping it around his foot to stem the flow of blood. He would tell his father that he had gotten a bloody nose.
The sea-scented breeze picked up, blowing Beck's long hair around his face. He looked out at the horizon, where the first rays of morning were already coming up. He looked at the chest, then began fiddling with the rotted wood, trying to get at the treasure inside. He managed to slide out one coin, turning it round and round between his fingers.
"BECK!" Will's scream jarred him out of his daydream. Beck looked around confusedly. Will was on the shore, jumping up and down and waving his arms. Beck couldn't make out what he was saying, the wind was blowing louder and louder in his ears.
"WHAT?" Beck yelled back. His hair stopped moving in the breeze, but the sound kept getting louder.
"RUN!" Will screamed. Beck looked behind him and saw a giant wall of water bearing down on him. Ignoring the pain in his foot, he scrambled up and began sprinting towards shore as fast as he could.
Will ran his hands through his long hair in agitation. He was screaming incoherently, begging Beck to run faster, to escape the wall of water crashing down on him. For a moment, it almost looked like the younger boy would make it... Will realized he was crying with joy. He ran out onto the wet sand, eager to pull him along to safety.
"Take my hand!" Will cried. Beck reached out for him.
Five steps from safety, Beck's foot caught on a stray piece of driftwood. He fell hard on the silt and the water swallowed him, his screams lost in the roar of the tide.
"NO!" Will screamed. The wall of water hit him at the chest, pushing him backwards. He spluttered and blinked salt out of his eyes, then dove over the breaking waves towards where he last saw Beck.
"BECK!" He screamed against the tide, choking on seawater.
From the lessons he learned while sailing over from England, Will remembered the quartermaster telling him something about the way the undertide pulls objects out of the center of the bay towards the cliff faces and out to sea. He held still and bobbed for a moment, letting the current pull him in the direction of the undertide. It was his best hope of saving Beck.
Beck. If he died, the guilt would be unlivable. The quiet, shy boy always followed in his footsteps, even if it led to him getting in trouble.
Will drifted towards the cliff face of the bay, spitting out seawater as he went. There were some large rocks nearby that if he wasn't careful, he would be dashed to pieces on them.
When he was near enough, Will gripped onto the rocks, crying out at the rough rock cut his hands. The current surged around him, pulling him every which way. Using sheer arm strength, Will pulled himself on top of a rock, using handholds to grip on.
He reached out for what looked like a good handhold, yelping as his hand touched something rubbery and cold. A hand. He pulled himself around and breathed out a sigh of relief as he saw Beck clinging onto the rock face, eyes closed. Will clasped Beck's hand in his.
"I've got you, little bird. Hold on." Will said, pulling himself up onto the rock all the way and grabbing Beck's wrists so he could pull the smaller boy up along with him. Beck's head lolled to the side, his face deathly pale.
Will slid off the rock on the other side, pulling Beck along with him. He laid on his back, laying Beck on his chest so he could pull him along and keep his head above water. He pushed off the rock and kicked steadily towards shore.
It seemed like hours before they reached the beach. Will collpased into the sand, his body feeling like it weighed a ton. But he couldn't submit to sleep just yet.
"Beck?" He asked, scared. He shook the younger boy's cold shoulder. No answer. Will rolled Beck onto his back and pressed his ear to his chest, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt the slight rise and fall of breath. Beck was alive.
"Oh, Beckon. I'm sorry!" He found himself sobbing. "I didn't mean to get you hurt, you always end up taking the blame for me. I'm so sorry!"
Will sobbed for a moment on Beck's chest, overcome with emotion and exhaustion.
"Will?" Beck's weak voice came.
"Oh, little bird." Will said, pushing some hair out of Beck's eyes. Beck blinked a little, his eye fluttering back closed. He mumbled something incoherent.
"What?" Will asked. "Don't leave me, Beck!" He slapped the younger boy's face a couple times.
"I said, we lost the chest." Beck said weakly.
"Oh Beckon, all the gold in the world couldn't console me if I lost m'best mate." Will sniffed.
"'M cold, Will." Beck said, eyes fluttering closed again.
"I got you, little bird." Will said, curling around the smaller boy and closing his eyes as well.
Eight years later, twenty-year-old Beckon Swann opened his eyes, fighting off the dream he'd been having of that night long ago. It still frightened him, the sea crashing in around him, Will's heartbeat lulling him to sleep, his father's reaction later that morning when he'd found them curled around each other on the beach.
Governor Swann had been swift in his judgement; it was made clear to Beck that his association with Will Turner was terminated. He would stay in the mansion unless he left to inspect the Fort with his Father. He would be governor when his father died, so his education and future were set in stone.
Will had tried for a couple weeks to win back Governor Swann's approval, but to no avail. No matter how much Beck cried and pleaded, the two friends were separated forever.
"Beckon, are you awake?" Governor Swann's voice came from Beck's bedroom door. Beck stopped himself from reaching towards the desk drawer where he kept all his treasures - and one small, gold coin.