Chapter 3

Night turned to day, but in the midst of the storm, few could tell the difference. As I worked alongside the crew, many quizzical heads turned in my direction, but were refocused quickly under the lashing whip of the bo'sun.

I, myself, mulled over the enigmatic captain. He seemed fierce and cold, certainly, and if one was to believe the legends, heartless. Literally.

"Heave! Heave! Heave!" the crew chanted as they pulled a rope that suspended a cannon high above deck.

"Secure the mast tackle, Mr. Turner!" the bo'sun ordered, prompting two men to rush into action. "Get to it!"

The two struggled over the line for a moment until both released the rope. With a sudden crash, the cannon smashed into the deck; crew men dove quickly out of the way to avoid being crushed.

The bo'sun stalked over to where the two men had fallen to the deck. "Haul that weevil to his feet!" he declared of Will as the rest of the crew crowded around. "Five lashes to remind you to stay on her!"

"No!" the other man yelled, leaping forward.

"Impending me in my duties? You'll share the punishment."

"I'll take it all."

Pounding footsteps announced the arrival of Davy Jones. "Will you now?" he queried. "And what would prompt such an act of charity?"

"My son," he murmured, staring at Will. "He's my son."

My attention was drawn instantly to the man from his son. Peering past the starfish glued to his face and the pouring rain that blurred my vision, I recognized 'Bootstrap' Bill Turner from the days of my youth aboard the Black Pearl. Unlike myself, he hadn't aged a day since I last saw him.

"What fortuitous circumstance be this!" the captain announced smugly, offering the whip to the elder Turner. "Five lashes be owed, I believe it is."

"No. No, I won't." he protested.

"The cat's out of the bag, Mr. Turner! Your issue will feel its sting, be it by the Bo'sun's hand or your own."

"No."

"Bo'sun…" Jones called, offering the whip away.

"No!" the helpless father interjected, taking the whip into his hands.

Unable to bear it, I turned away, burying my face in my palms. However, the fact of not witnessing the torture proved useless to blocking out Will's cries of pain as the sound pierced the air. After he had been dealt the five lashes, the crew ruthlessly tossed Will down a set of stairs. "You had it easy, boy!" someone shouted down to him.

"William…" I heard Bootstrap plead as I made my way down to the pair.

"I don't need your help!" Will shouted in fury.

I raced down the final staircase, calling to my friend. "Will!"

He turned slowly, catching me in his arms as I hugged him, carefully to avoid his wounds. "Rachelle, are you alright?" he pressed. "I haven't seen you in days! Not since you were taken to Jones' cabin."

"Yes, yes, I'm alright. We had a lovely conversation." I replied hurriedly, waving for him to turn back towards Bootstrap. "Now, turn around and speak to your father while I take care of your back."

"The Bo'sun prides himself on cleaving flesh from bone with every swing." Bootstrap explained to his son, his brows still furrowed slightly as he watched me work.

"So I'm to understand that what you did was an act of compassion!" Will started shouting again.

"Yes." I answered, handing Will a new shirt and looking up at the elder Turner for the first time. "Your father has always been a compassionate man. I wouldn't expect that to have left him in the past eleven years."

"So it is you." Bootstrap commented, gingerly reaching forward to cup my cheek.

"Yes, Bill, it's me. Thanks to you I've survived."

He opened his mouth to respond, but I simply enveloped him in a warming hug. "Thank you," I whispered, grateful that Will was standing silently to the side as he understood our need for a private moment.

Hesitantly, Bill wrapped his arms around my slight frame and we embraced like a long-lost father and daughter pair. I pulled away after a long moment and gave him a watery smile, saying, "I missed you."

He nodded, whispering, "Me too," in response.

I looked back at Will, pulling him forward as I grabbed his hand. "Now, you've seen quite enough of me. You two have some catching up to do."

Nodding a farewell, I took my leave of the pair and set towards the stern of the ship. While half of the crew oversaw clean-up efforts from the cannon disaster, the other portion retired to one of the holds to gamble. I approached slowly, watching the game with interest.

"Liar's Dice," one of the men grumbled to me, taking my intrigue for ignorant curiosity. "Each player makes bids according to the dice in his own hand, plus keepin' in mind those belonging to the others. If you get caught in a lie, you lose."

"And what are the stakes?" I queried.

"Each men bets what he has. Aboard here, it's years of service."

As the current round ended with boisterous swearing, I added, "And one can challenge anyone else aboard the ship?"

"Aye."

I took a step forward, claiming a seat at the vacated table. "I challenge Captain Jones."

An instantaneous hush swept over the gathered crowd and, after a moment, the crew parted to allow their captain access to the table. "I accept." he answered, taking the seat opposite of me. "The stakes?"

"A favor. A question. Whatever suits your fancy."

A murmur swept through the assembled company of men, but Davy Jones nodded in affirmation. Silently, we each cast our dice and the bidding began. "Two threes."

"Four threes." I countered.

The bets continued to escalate until, glancing at my five dice, I declared, "Seven sixes."

The crowd hushed in an instant. All eyes were on me. Without removing my gaze from the captain, I repeated, "Seven sixes. Call me a liar, or up the bet."

In a swift, confident movement, Jones lifted his cup. Pointing to his own two sixes, he snarled, "Liar."

I stood, nodding acquiescence. "The game is yours, Captain Jones. I shall be awaiting your call to discuss the terms of our deal."

Without bothering to reveal my own dice, I left the table and walked away. The crowd laughed and joked, dissipating slowly as the crew returned to their work on the now debris-cleared deck.

It wasn't until late the very same evening that I received my summons to the captain's quarters. "You called for me, Captain?" I spoke as I tentatively allowed the cabin door to close behind me.

I could hear the gentle creaking of the ship and the sound of the men working on deck, but the room itself was silent in response. "Captain Jones?" I asked, taking a few more steps into the cabin.

With startling agility, Davy Jones emerged from the shadows, his clawed hand clasping around my neck. "Who are you?" he barked as he pinned me to the wall.

"What?" I choked, my voice strangled and strained.

"You deliberately lost that game. Who are you?"

"Ah," I coughed, the image of my five dice—five sixes—burning in my mind. "I had wondered if you would check."

Jones raised an eyebrow – or rather, did the equivalent – and I continued, "If you must know, I had the wisdom and foresight not to wish to publicly humiliate you, especially in front of your crew. I imagine that I would find myself a loser in either case."

I crashed to the ground as he released his hold to turn and stalk away. Shakily, I rose to my feet. "Then as you are the victor, you gain the prize." he drawled. "What is your request?"

"I need to reach Tortuga." I answered. "I have people waiting to meet me there. All I request is the freedom to leave aboard a dinghy. I do not doubt that I can manage my way to my destination from there."

Through the darkness, I felt him staring, studying me. "Very well." he acquiesced at last. "It was a favor you requested and a favor you have received."

With a nod, I replied, "Thank you, Captain Jones."

"Get out of my sight before I change my decision to keep my word."

As I left the cabin with a sigh of relief, the two Turners emerged from belowdecks. Rushing down to them, I could hardly contain my excitement. "I've been granted permission to leave! I'm off to find James in Tortuga."

"You what?" Will asked, bewildered. "How?"

"A small game of Liar's Dice." I smirked.

"Liar's Dice?"

"Of course," Bill scoffed with a knowing smile. "You always were a natural. Bested every man aboard the Pearl."

"It's a game of deception, often used in gambling." I explained to my blacksmith friend. "I've always had a knack for it."

"Well, good luck, Rachelle," he smiled warmly.

Returning his grin, I nodded, "You too, Will. I hope you find whatever you're looking for." I turned to his father. "Farewell, Bill. I—It was great to see you again, my friend."

With a final nod goodbye, I swung my leg over the side of the ship and landed neatly on my feet as the reunited father and son duo waved goodbye. Grasping the oars, I rowed away from the cursed ship, muttering to myself about how daft I must have been to have even left Port Royal.

Time seemed to drone on and on. It wasn't until the first signs of dawn were creeping into the sky that my boredom ceased.

Out of the blue, a storm whirled in, blending the pink-streaked sky with cobalt gray clouds and filling the air with the musk scent of precipitation. "Bloody hell," I cursed, struggling against the waves to keep myself balanced.

One by one, waves buffeted the dinghy, rocking it violently from side to side. My arms protested every motion as pain erupted through my muscles and the cascading rain blurred my vision. Seeing a rock looming ahead, I attempted to veer out of the way, but my attempts were futile.

A powerful swell crushed my pathetic craft against the dense mass of stone, slamming my battered form against its merciless bulk. Feeling the sting of each new cut as the salt water invaded each wound, I struggled to retain consciousness. I spotted a looming ship ahead and, knowing I only had to fight a little longer, grabbed a remaining chunk of my dinghy.

"There's someone in the water!" I heard a voice exclaim.

Another man roused the call, shouting, "Man overboard!"

Following the sound of a splash as someone leapt into the water, I felt a pair of arms wrap around me and haul me to the ship. With blurred vision, I heard the crew speaking to each other as I coughed up the seawater dwelling in my lungs. "That's no man—it's a woman."

"Do you recognize her?"

"Who is she?"

"I dunno. She's bloodied up too bad."

"Take her to my cabin. She'll remain there until she's recovered."

As the men carried me out of the storm, I slipped into the depths of unconsciousness.