Power: I was hoping to take this beyond a one shot, but did not say it in case I could not find a way to continue. All characters belong to Disney. sighs Welcome Aboard
What I am aiming to do is to explore Bootstrap's life aboard the Flying Dutchman and the relationship between Bootstrap and Davy Jones. glowers Not like that, you perverts.
Bootstrap Bill flinched slightly when Davy Jones cut through the ropes binding his hands with his claw. And in the space it took him to blink, the crushing pressure stopped. He stooped to untie his bootstraps from the cannon. "How did you do that?"
"An extension of my curse," he explained. "But as it is not the true curse, I can set its limits. You won't be able to leave the ship without my express permission and when you have that, you can walk on land where I cannot." Jones turned on his heels and limped back to the ship. Bill quickly followed his lead. "Tell me more about this curse of yours."
"Better, I can show you."
The Captain turned at this. Bootstrap was looking up. Instinctively, he looked up as well, even though there was nothing to see. "What are we looking at?"
"The moon is out." He frowned and looked at Jones. "How do I know that?" The Captain just smiled and continued on to the ship. Despite the fact that he was limping with a crab leg, Bill was the one struggling to keep up.
"Otherwise the curse entails that I don't need to sleep, or breathe. Food turns to ash in my mouth and drink doesn't satisfy. I feel nothing. . . except pain."
Evidently that part of the curse did not make much sense to Jones, either.
"The worst part is better seen than explained."
"Something to do with the moon, I gather."
"Aye. Moonlight reveals us for what we truly are."
They had arrived the ship.
"New recruit, Captain?" One of the crew called down. Bootstrap picked out the owner as the silhouette that resembled a hammerhead shark.
"Aye. This is Bootstrap Bill Turner." Jones caught his questioning look. "Maccus, my first mate," he explained.
He nodded in understanding.
A rope ladder was thrown down to them. Bill wondered how Jones was going climb up with just one hand. The next thing he knew, the Captain had vanished in the blink of an eye.(A/N 1) Startled he looked up to see him on deck, turning to face him. Bill looked down, looked up, and looked down then back up again.
"Are we going to stand here all night, Mr. Turner?" Maccus growled.
Bootstrap hastily began to climb the ladder at that. Hands reached down to grab him and he was hauled, roughly, onto the deck. Upon straightening, he found himself face-to-face with Jones once again. It took him a moment to realise that the Captain was a few inches shorter than most of his crew. (A/N 2)
Jones smiled like a shark. "Welcome aboard the Flying Dutchman, Mr. Turner."
The Captain left it to Maccus to assign Bootstrap his duties. He was ordered to compile an inventory of the ship's cargo, so he would know what went where and what was considered to be salvageable items.
When that was done, he was to report back to Maccus.
As he headed to the stairs that would take him below deck, Bill noticed that members of the crew were tying ropes to themselves and swimming out to catch fish as the Flying Dutchman ascended. Then he had reached the stairs and the fishermen were obscured from view.
The cargo hold was deserted and quiet. The first thing that surprised him was, although it was clearly not full to the brim, it was not as empty as he had been expecting. There were the obligatory bottles of rum and he noted with some surprise that they also kept their empty bottles. It then occurred to him that they would not be able to store the rum in wooden barrels if they travelled underwater often.
Most of the items stored in the hold were practical items, such as weapons, cannonballs and the like. There were also some locked, watertight chests. He assumed the Captain only had access to these.
At the far end were large, metal containers, encrusted in coral and all manner of sea life. The lids of these containers were grated allowing him to see the contents. Live fish were swimming around inside them.
When he had finished compiling the inventory, and he had had to go around the cargo hold several times to make sure he had not forgotten anything, he hurried back up to the top deck.
Bootstrap was on the stairs that lead onto the top deck when he heard a shout. "Surfacing! Brace yourselves!" It was Maccus.
Immediately the cry "Brace yourselves!" went up, passing along the deck to the bow. The crewmember at the top of the stairs, coming down, sat down and grasped the banister firmly as he shouted down "Brace yourselves!"
Bootstrap followed his example.
The much lower resistencey of air caused the ship to accelerate suddenly and surge out the water. When the bow smashed down into the surface of the water, a jolt shuddered through the Flying Dutchman. Bill started moving when the crewman above him starting moving. He looked up at the night sky. The moon was currently obscured by a cloud, shielding him from its light. But it was not a particularly cloudy sky, and he knew this cover was not going to last. Well, they would find out about him sooner or later, there was no use hiding. Be spotted Maccus emerging from the Captain's cabin and quickly headed over to him.
"No wrecks to report, Greenbeard," the first mate was saying to the crewman manning the wheel as Bill approached. "But there's a storm approaching."
He could sense it too.
"The wind's in the wrong direction for us, we'll have to dive again when it hits."
Greenbeard nodded "Aye sir."
They both turned their heads when they heard footsteps on the stairs.
"Mr. Turner," said Maccus. "Report."
One minute Maccus and Greenbeard were talking to and looking at Bootstrap Bill Turner. The next thing they knew Bootstrap had gone and a skeleton, with the remains of a well-worn coat, shirt and trousers hanging off it, was standing in his place.
Startled, Greenbeard gave out a yelp and let go of the wheel.
Maccus took an involuntary step back.
The yelp had drawn the attention of the crewmembers closest to them and he could see eyes widening and jaws hanging open – if they possessed them. This inactivity drew the attention of the rest of the crew in a wave, until Bootstrap had the attention of the entire ship.
Bill found it inwardly amusing that the crew were horrified at what he looked like. Then he looked closer and realised that it was not terror that locked their gazes, but morbid fascination.
A voice at the back of Maccus' head screamed at him to do something, to bring the crew back in line before-
"What's all the fuss?" An unmistakable voice demanded behind him. The three turned to face him. It was then that Davy Jones noticed Bootstrap. His eyes widened in surprise and for a few seconds he did not recognise who was standing before him. Then it dawned on him. "Mr. Turner." Jones circled him, slowly, riveted. "Worst part indeed. You're more of a sorry mess than I am." His tone was amused but Bill swore he could see a hint of sympathy in the Captain's eyes. When at last, Jones was satisfied that he had inoculated himself against Bootstrap's appearance, he turned his attention on his inactive crew. "Back to work!" he roared before heading back into his cabin.
The crew jumped and quickly returned to their routines.
Power:
A/N 1: Teleportation. There to be abused. XD
A/N 2: There'll be none of that "8-foot-tall" rubbish in this fanfiction.
This shall continue. Con crit is welcome.