Dear Will,

It's been ages since I've written. I'm sorry. I'm certain that you must read these somehow. And I'm sorry if I've worried you with my lack letters. But something terrible happened.

Someone heard Henry crying while the blacksmith and I were out making deliveries. They waited around until we returned and when they saw two "men" they were confused as to how two men came to have a child. They accused us of stealing Ms. Bolingbroke's child who went missing a few weeks back. They went racing through town, screaming that the Bolingbroke baby had been found and that the blacksmiths were harboring him. I knew nobody would believe the truth. So instead of trying to convince the public I ran in and grabbed our baby and my sword, just in case I ran into trouble. I managed to sneak around through the alleys and make it to the docks where I kept my hat pulled down and Henry quiet as I snuck onto a ship. At the time, the sailors were off the ship and I was able to find my way below deck. I heard footsteps above, the returning crew, and made the rash decision of hiding in an empty crate. Other than a few dried herbs that littered the bottom of it, we seemed alone and safe in the little box. Sure it wasn't the greatest solution, but at least for a little while I would be able to hide with Henry without being suspected.

Anyway, I kept there until I heard the crew snoring at night. I only snuck out to steal some drinking water and a chunk of bread to tide myself over until they made port. I kept this routine up for days. It was an incredible pain to keep Henry quiet all of the time. Whenever he did cry it was usually when nobody was below deck anyway. We hid like this for five days before we made port somewhere. I heard the crew leaving the ship and the plank drop onto the dock. I waited a few tense heartbeats before slowly getting out of the crate. My muscles felt like they were shriveling up inside, but I pressed on. I got off the ship without anyone noticing and made my way into the town. I had ended up on the more affluent side of this particular town. I ended up hiding in the governor's garden, as his estate was quite close to shore.

Henry was starting to get really finicky at the point. He was starving because I had eaten only enough to sustain myself, not enough to keep him fed. I knew that staying here was my only chance of survival and that in order to get by I was going to need to get sympathy out of the townsfolk. A man with a baby was a confusing sight to be seen, especially if word had already made it here that a man had stolen a baby.

So I abandoned my hat and stripped off my vest, getting down to my torn and stained white dress shirt. I kicked off my shoes into the bushes and made a point of opening my shirt a few buttons lest my gender was still not plainly obvious. Lucky for me, my hair was already grown out to my shoulders. I buried my sword under some dense shrubbery for safekeeping. I hobbled over to the maid's entrance to the mansion and knocked frantically and loudly, hoping to get attention immediately. Sure enough a young lady answered the door. "My baby is starving. Please. I was kidnapped by pirates and I just managed to escape with my little one. Please help us." Oh you should have seen me, I was weeping up a storm. Of course it was partly genuine because I was starving. Even Henry started to cry with me. The nice maid let me in and fed me immediately. The governor himself came to speak to me that night and said he would allow me to work as his maid until I could get myself back on my feet.

Well, as you can imagine, I had to do a great deal of acting while I was there. Pretending like I was an innocent, sweet girl. Pretending like my husband was dead. Pretending that I gave a damn about the stupid governor's demands. Eventually I scraped by enough money to leave. That's partly why this message took so long. I had to keep up appearances as a maid, and no maid can write. They would have also hung me dry if they saw that I was using the governor's precious ink and paper.

Now back to present. I've purchased a lovely little house on a rural part of the island. I'm sick of living near the crowds of the city. I want to learn how to garden out here and how to keep cows and chickens and sheep. Amazing how far I've come since I was a teenager in Port Royale. Here I am in Nassau, with a three year old son running around my ankles causing turmoil every which way. One day I think I'll teach him sword fighting. But not for awhile. It would be nice if when we meet again you could help him practice. I want nothing more than for you to meet our son. He's got my hair, long and golden brown. He's such a darling. What can I say? We make great babies. If only we could have more.

For now, that's as much as I can write. I'll try to write more often, though hopefully not so wordy as this and the last was. If I recall right, the last one was three years and two months ago. Nearly half of our time apart has gone by. We can make it through this Will. I have faith in you and I have faith in myself.

Love

Elizabeth


Dear Will

I realize that because three whole years went by I missed the opportunity to tell you all about Henry's firsts, which is a shame. Since you had to physically miss the events, the least I could have done was tell you about it right away. Virtually all of them happened while I was working as a maid. He lived with me in my cramped closet of a room. His first word came one night when I was telling him a story.

I told him about how his father sailed the seas in the Flying Dutchmen, protecting those that passed away at the sea. I told him about how his mother met his father a long long time ago when she was a little girl and he was a little boy. From the first day they met she promised to watch over him. I whispered to him about how his father had loved his mother from that moment and how it took his mother a long time to see that. I told him about how one day a great adventure happened, involving a certain pirate named Captain Jack Sparrow. I thought I was putting him to sleep, but he was listening enthusiastically the whole time. He looked up at me and babbled in his weird child language and amongst the incoherency I clearly made out the word, "Fader". Isn't it remarkable? His first word was father. I told you I would not let him grow up without knowing all about his father.

His first steps were not exactly steps either. He tried to go from crawling to running. He's going to be so brave, just like you. He knows all our stories by heart. His favorite is the one of us rocking the ship to make it back to the real world from the locker. He thinks it's hilarious. He recently crafted his own little "Black Pearl" out of some dark wood scraps. He likes to tip it over off the table and go "BOOM!" to imitate our tumble down a waterfall. (I'll tell him one day that it was not the Pearl that fell down said waterfall, but for now I don't think it matters to him since he's only three).

Love

Elizabeth


Dear Will,

The neighbors, who actually don't live that close to me, have finally tried figuring out just who I am and what I'm doing here. I managed to convince them that I am a widower to a sailor and that I moved to Nassau for the scenery. Hopefully nobody will pester me now. I hate having to pretend I'm a widower. I think the neighbors are baffled that I'm not still wearing black to honor my husband's death. Well they can have their judgements. I don't care for them.

Meanwhile I've been preoccupied making life comfortable for Henry and I. I have a full fledged garden now that he helps me tend to. A couple cows for milk and butter, a few sheep for wool, and some chickens for eggs. I used what little money I had left from my time as a maid to buy the creatures. I don't know what I'll do when they inevitably pass away. Maybe I can trade some produce for a rooster. Look at me, becoming so domestic. There's a sword above my fireplace for heaven's sake. I truly do long for the sea every day. I sometimes wonder if Jack is going to sweep in out of nowhere (as he tends to do) and I'll get pulled into some nonsense again. Part of me is grateful those days are behind me, but another part secretly hopes that I do get pulled back into the sea faring life.

I can see the ocean from our kitchen window. It makes me long for it again. And by extension, long for you. Sometimes I worry that I will forget what your face looks like. Sometimes I worry you don't look the same. I know you won't have tentacles at least, but sometimes I think the silliest things. Once I had a nightmare when we met after ten years, you had no nose and I didn't recognize you at all. It's ridiculous, of course.

Six years left, my love.

Love,

Elizabeth Turner


Dear Will,

I've taken to sending Henry down the road to an old maid's house to get an education. She's a wise old crone, and the village children all flock to learn from her. It's not the kind of education I received in the governor's household of course, but how badly does he need to learn Latin anyway? I think it's progress if he can at least learn to write. Maybe when his writing becomes readable he'll write you a letter himself.

Anyway, I meant to write this to confess something. When Henry's at school all day, I've taken to heading down to the docks on the other side of the island. It's a long hike, but it's worth it. I've asked for sailing "lessons" from a local captain who's kind enough. He's a retired navy officer who just fishes for his family now. He's taken me out on his boat a few times with him, and I've helped him catch a few fish on occasion. He doesn't know it, but when he's got his back turned I dip my hand in the water. Can you sense that I'm closer to you when I'm on the water? Such silly questions, I know. Maybe you can't even read these. Maybe you're dead.

I love you will. Please come back to me.

Love,

Elizabeth


Dear father,

Hello. I am your son Henry. We have not met yet. But I like you. Mummy tells me a lot about you. She says I look like you. Sometimes when she talks about you she crys. But I pat her hand and tell her it will be okay. I hope I meet you soon father. You sound like a nice man. Is your reel name father or do you have a diffrent name? When I asked mummy she only laffed. Is your name Laffter? Bye bye. I love you.


Will,

Half our time is already gone. Henry and I have just started to settle down here but I'm going to move us. I need to be ready for when you return. I've sold all our animals and bought a boat with the funds. We're going back to Port Royale. The edge of the island where I last saw you. Nobody lives that far from the port anyway. He will be safer there. He's started to tell the boys at school that he has a father who saves souls. The neighbors have begun to ask questions. We can't last here much longer. I've packed enough to make it all the way there. We'll be healthy. We'll be safe. Goodness knows that I can handle myself on a ship. Especially something as puny as a dinghy. And I know that you'll make sure we're safe. I know we'll never face harm on the seas so long as you rule them.

This might be the last message for a while. I still have to stock up on paper and ink. And bottles. I may or may not steal a chicken from a neighbor's yard when we run in the night. And a goat. If we ever need anything I'll just use the dinghy to sail to the nearest island and steal. Or, you know, flag a passing ship with a giant fire started with a batch of rum. No, those days are behind me. Unfortunately. I wish life was as exciting as it used to be with you, with Jack. I'd kill just to listen to Pintel and Ragetti bicker.

Soon my love. Soon.

Love,

Elizabeth Turner