Chapter 2: Never Shall We Die
Will
"Heave ho, thieves and beggars," I sign solemnly into the night air, "never shall we die." The emptiness of the sea and stars are not comforting. They haven't been since her death. For a while I could stare off into the open seas, and pretend I could see her standing on the nearest shore, waving to me as I passed by. I used to gaze up and wonder if she was watching the same stars as I was, or if she was pointing out some new constellation to our son, William Turner III. William Jack Turner actually, named for his father, and the man who saved my life. If you could call this existence of mine a life anymore.
It's been two hundred years since her death. Two hundred years since I last saw my love. She had been ill for a time, I hadn't even known. Not until it was too late. She had waited for me, like she always did, to return to shore. She held out as long as she could, as long as she had to till she could see me again. She was always strong like that. She collapsed in my arms the moment I touched her, over come with fatigue. She was an old woman by then, but I loved her the same as I always had. The same as I always will. It was our son, William, who had to tell of her sickness as I stood there on the beach, stunned. How could my Elizabeth be dying? My head-strong, fiery, beautiful Elizabeth, the Pirate King.
She was seventy-nine at the time of her death. That means since the day of our marriage, since the first day I left her to captain the Dutchman, we saw each other merely six times. Six days together. Six glorious and unforgettable days with my love, and now I must spend the rest of eternity without her.
She wanted so badly to join the ship, to become part of my crew, but I could not allow her. Despite her unbreakable will and spirit, a seventy-nine year old woman is in no condition to crew a ship. Against all her protests, I let her die, in my arms. I left her body with my son, and he cried on my shoulder. We both cried. It was the shortest day I had spent on land since my becoming captain. I returned to The Flying Dutchman immediately to ferry her to the other side. I had to see her again, my wife, my darling Elizabeth. I had to tell her I loved her, and that I would take care of our son, and that I would never stop thinking of her for so long as I live.
She never came.
I never saw Elizabeth again.
Though it was a beach she had still died on land, and I was merely the taker of those poor souls to have died at sea to the after life. Not those who died on land, not her. Never had I sobbed so hard in my entire existence. How could I have been so stupid as to rush off without staying for the funeral? For my son at least?
Eventually all those whom I cared for I came to see again: Mr. Gibbs, Marty, Cotton, Pintel and Ragetti. Even Barbossa passed through to, as he put it, "A much appreciated retirement." My son came through, and he enthusiastically took the offer of one hundred years before the mast. His years came and went with a quickness I didn't think was possible, and I found myself again lost in my sorrows. Neither my grandchildren nor my son's grandchildren came to be in my care. They must have all passed on land. I regret not being able to have met all of them, and not knowing where my bloodline continues, if it does at all.
The only member of my original crew left is my father. Even though I sent him free from The Dutchman's bonds long ago he chose to stay with me, and that I truly do appreciate.
I never saw my good old friend Captain Jack Sparrow again, and I constantly wonder what became of him. I doubt he would willing allow himself to die on land, it would be incredibly unlike him to do so. That lunatic.
I've only known hope once since mine and my son's parting. Fifteen years ago I came across a wreck in the Caribbean, familiar territory. A new and modern vessel had appeared run a reef and sunk during a storm. I hadn't expected any survivors to be honest. But there she was, a little girl, unconscious and sinking fast to the depths below. She was still alive, and on my conscious I could not stand back and watch from the deck of my ship and while she drowned. I dove in, and dragged her to the surface. She was so small, so fragile, and she looked so much like a young Elizabeth I once knew. My heart bled for her, it didn't matter how far it was or how long it had been separated from the rest of my body. I know what it's like to be her position: the lone survivor of a tragic shipwreck. Perhaps some boy will rescue her, and they will fall madly in love just as we did. I revived the poor girl on The Dutchman's deck. When she opened her eyes I swear I saw Elizabeth somewhere inside her.
"Don't worry," I told her, pushing a strand of wet hair from her cheek, "you're going to be alright. Elizabeth." I whispered the name before I could stop myself. I thought, perhaps this girl could be one of my heirs after all. Perhaps she could know where to find the chest I had lost along with my darling Elizabeth. I'm not sure why I did it, but I slipped the key to the Dead Man's Chest around her tiny wrist, set her upon a piece of useless would from the Dutchman. Once the skies cleared and the seas calmed, I set her adrift, knowing that a nearby boat would find her, and praying they would take care of her. Why did I place the key around her wrist? I still don't know. Maybe I thought, hoped, that one day this girl would grow up, and find the chest, and some how find a way to put my tortured soul to rest and set me free. But for now, all I can do is hope.
"Elizabeth…" I whispered into the night air. Oh, how I missed her, "I should have told every day from the moment I met you. I love you."
Dawn is approaching. Another day of servitude begins.
