Ambrosia of the Sea: The Red Horizon

Chapter Two


"NORTH!"

Lieutenant Norrington heard the desperate call from his position on the bow. Port Royal could now be seen not but three leagues from where they sailed above the waters. The sky in the west behind the island was a deep red—a good sign for a sailor. Norrington turned sharply, looking beyond the ship where the call directed.

"Where's that coming from?" he asked, more to himself. He scanned the horizon quickly. "There's nothing to the north."

"Indeed, sir," replied Gillette, following his gaze.

"NORTH!" The cry came again, but this time both men realized it wasn't the voice of one of Norrington's men; it was too high-pitched.

"It's Will, sir!" cried Elizabeth as she ran up the stairs. The lieutenant took hold of her shoulders as she recovered from her run. "He's shouting and mumbling all at once. I can't understand him." She looked frightened, her eyes watering. "He's broke out into a cold sweat. And he won't let me touch him." Norrington felt a pang of jealousy strike in his stomach. She seemed genuinely concerned for the boy.

Will Turner was in a terrible state. He was suffering from hallucinations—terrible memories of the events leading him to the Dauntless. Elizabeth attempted to calm him with a moist cloth, but he pushed her away, still trapped in the memories.

"Why does he keep going on about the north?" asked Norrington as they stood by Turner's bunk.

"I think it's a person, sir," she said quietly, never taking her eyes off the boy. She placed a hand on his shoulder and he relaxed a bit. Norrington followed by placing his own hand on Elizabeth's small shoulder.

"You've done a great deed by watching over the boy," he said. Elizabeth smiled weakly, her mind elsewhere. "You don't have to, Elizabeth." The girl raised her eyes to the lieutenant. It seemed more of an order.

"I want to." Norrington sighed as Elizabeth pulled away to moisten the cloth once more. She laid it across Will's head gently, her fingers lingering. Norrington cursed himself for his jealousy.

"Do let us know if he has anymore information." He straightened, pulling himself up proudly, as an officer should.

"Yes sir," Elizabeth replied.

Norrington hadn't even reached the steps before Will started speaking again.

"Curse you for bringing that back to the Caribbean!" His voice was strange. He gripped the bed sheets, straining against the memories. "CAP'N! It's the Pearl!" Norrington leapt back to his bedside at the mention of the Black Pearl. He had heard rumors about the ship and her crew—that they were cursed men. It was all nonsense in his own opinion, but he still had to be careful.

"Keep him talking," he demanded of Elizabeth, who now sat at the edge of the bed, holding Will's hand.

"Will," she cooed softly, "what happened?"


"Look's like we've got ourselves a stowaway, Cap'n."

Elinor North snorted. The voyage had gone well so far. The last thing she needed was a child hiding out aboard her ship and touching things. She turned quickly, her hands on her hips, to face the culprit.

"My God," she whispered, her eyes growing wide. In front of her stood her gunner, Drada. In his hands he gripped the shoulders of Bootstrap's son. He didn't recognize her even after he stopped kicking at Drada. But he knew she had recognized him.

It had been near three years since she had first laid eyes on him in Bristol—this being after she escaped Barbossa and ended up in Port Royal. The captain of the Pearl had purposely given her the wrong bearings. But Elinor knew better than to leave that ship without having them for herself. After making a mental note of thanking Barbossa the first chance she got she headed for the port. North figured she could hop the first ship out of there without any trouble. And she did—sort of.

They didn't quite believe her when she poorly explained that she had to deliver a medallion to a man's son in Britain. Without any papers showing the gold belonged to her, they accused her of stealing it. They took her to a pompous young officer who was so shocked that she was a pirate he didn't quite know what to do with her.

"That's easy—let me go," she said to the man called Norrington. She leaned on his desk, her hands still cuffed. He laughed nervously as she crossed her arms. "Listen, I promised a good man that I would deliver that medallion to his son." Her eyes spoke sincerely. "I am a woman of my word." There was an awkward pause as Norrington thought. It was not his duty to decide the fates of pirates; he was merely filling in for the regular guy.

"Very well," he said after some time. "You will be escorted to England by two of my men. They will take you to your destination so that you may fulfill your promise and then bring you promptly back here." He made it sound like a day trip. Elinor sighed—it was the best she could do. After shaking hands, Elinor was led out to the docks where she and a pair of burly sailors boarded the Elizabethan.

North exited the ship by herself—the men escorting her had somehow mysteriously disappeared during the voyage. Bootstrap had told her that his wife was a hat maker in Bristol. What he failed to mention was that the town seemed to be the Mecca of hat making. She searched for nearly four hours before she finally found the small shop tucked away in a remote corner of the village. It was raining, and night was falling as Elinor stepped up to the door.

By the look on Mrs. Turner's face, Elinor assumed she looked terrible. Weather and travel-beaten, North mentioned Bill's name and was admitted into his wife's company.

"I always knew the sea would take him," she said after a few good tears. Elinor sat across from Mary Turner, her elbows on her knees and her eyes down. Pirate or not, she couldn't bear to tell Bootstrap's wife how he really died. Just that he had died in battle. North wasn't even sure if Mary knew her husband was a pirate.

"Bill told me you had a son," she finally said, trying to change the subject and get on with business. Mary nodded.

"Will. After his father." Elinor looked around the room, as if that was Will's cue to step out and introduce himself. "He's in bed, as it were," Mary answered. North knew better—she always spied on her father when he had visitors late at night.

She found Will when a door creaked on the far side of the room behind Mary. She took no notice of it but North smiled to herself. There, through the crack, she glimpsed the spitting image of Bootstrap. Younger, of course, but there he was—soft eyes and all. Elinor shifted then to pull out the package she was bound to deliver.

"He wanted the boy to have this," she said as she handed the parcel to the woman across from her. Mary unfolded the cloth to reveal the medallion. She gasped, bringing her small white hand to her heart. It wasn't a notion of surprise, North thought later, but rather of fear—as if she knew what the gold would bring. "He's to keep it safe," North commanded as she moved toward the door. Mary nodded, bringing the gold piece closer to her chest. She thanked Elinor for visiting, for granting her dying husband's last wish.

She still had tears in her eyes when the captain left.


North wondered what the boy was doing all the way down in the Caribbean.

"My mother has passed on, so I've come to look for my father," he said as she questioned him in her quarters. Elinor stopped her pacing.

"Your father?" The look in her eyes made Will feel ridiculous. He nodded. "Will, lad," the captain started, setting him down on the divan, "your father's dead." She paused as the boy struggled to comprehend this harsh statement. "Didn't your mother tell you…?"

"She said he got hurt, is all," he said suddenly, sprinting from his seat. "She said there was an epic battle on the sea, and he was wounded. But he was a hero. Mother said that's why he got this!" Will pulled the medallion from his neck, where it hung on a long golden chain. North stared at it, her expression filled with horror and rage. In two steps she had crossed the room and taken hold of both Will and the gold.

"How dare you bring this here?" Her voice shook with each word. "You've no idea the trouble you've started, boy. The hell you've unleashed." She was scaring young Will, but it didn't matter to her. She was furious. "Curse you for bringing this back to the Caribbean! You were supposed to keep it far away from here. Why do you think your father entrusted it to you—in England?" She was on a rampage now, shaking poor Will nearly to pieces.

"I-I didn't know!" he shouted, trying to push the enraged captain away. Elinor stepped back to catch her breath. Of course he didn't know; he didn't even know his father was dead. The boy had come to look for him. Now he was alone. Seemed to Elinor that all this lying was adding up. North collected herself and sat Will back down, who had now started crying.

"Listen to me, Will, and listen good. I knew your father. He was a good man. Was, Will. He's gone now, and he trusted me to give that gold to you." Elinor took the piece in her hands. "This is cursed, boy. Your father wanted it far away so that the men this gold affected couldn't get to it. And now you've brought it back." Will stared in horror. He grabbed the piece and tore the chain from his neck. He went over to the window to throw it to Davy Jones.

"There's no point in doing that, young William. They'll have already known by now that it's here." Will turned to see a calm captain standing behind him with her arms crossed. She looked now as if she pitied him.

"What am I supposed to do then?" he asked. And instead of breaking down, weeping for his father and now his own life, Will Turner put the chain back around his neck and awaited his commands. North laughed.

"Oh no," she said, waving her hands, "you're not joining—" There was a bang on the door just before it flew open.

"Cap'n, you'd better come take a look at this," said Plank as he held the door open for her. Elinor rolled her eyes at her first mate, but followed him out on deck. He pointed to the east with his middle finger (his pointer had been ripped off by shrapnel). On cue he slapped North's telescope in her hands.

"I can't tell," she said, straining her eyes, "there's too much…fog." She lowered the scope slowly, chills running down her spine. She whipped around to find Turner standing there, not sure of what to do with himself. The gold sparkled in the afternoon sun.

"Cap'n! CAP'N! It's the Pearl!"


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