A/N: I am new to the POTC Archive, so go easy on me…I also don't really know POTC very well, so if I get characters wrong and their positions wrong or something let me know and I'll switch it.
The Stowaway
Chapter Four – William
When Claire woke up, she realized that she was lying on wood. Moist planks of wood. She was looking up at a perfectly blue, cloudless sky. Was she in heaven? Yes, she had drowned and gone to heaven.
Suddenly something salty and wet filled her throat and rose up into her mouth. She gasped and water spilled over her lips and down her neck. When more came she turned over onto her side and coughed up more sea water, retching and spluttering, trying to get the horrible taste out of her mouth. She groaned.
There was someone there, near her. They were talking, but she couldn't hear them very well. She tilted her head slightly and water ran out of her ears and rolled down the side of her face onto the wooden floor. She tilted her head to the other side and the same thing happened. Then someone pushed her gently down onto her back, and suddenly she was looking up into someone's face; someone she didn't recognize. "She's come around," said a clear, male voice.
There was some shuffling and then more people were around her, and she was looking up into several more faces, none of them familiar. "Where I am? What happened?"
"You," said the first man, "are here with me and my crew, aboard the legendary Flying Dutchman. You nearly drowned during that blasted storm; I saved you."
"You mean…I'm alive?"
The man laughed. "Yes, you are still alive."
"And you…saved me?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Claire blinked. "Thank you."
"Of course."
No one said anything for a moment. "The Flying Dutchmen?" Claire asked quietly. "You said it is legendary. How so?"
"Ah," said the man, "Have you ever heard the tale of Davy Jones?"
"No," she replied, "My mother never told me anything about the sea, even though she is a captain of a ship herself. I stowed away because it was the only way I'd get on board. I pretended to be a boy, you see. And she didn't realize it, either."
"Oh. Well, it's far too complicated to go into it now. What's your name, child?"
Claire didn't know if she should tell this man her whole real name or not. "Claire." She saw his stricken expression and quickly added, "Claire Wellington."
"Lovely name," he said, the friendly expression back, "I am Captain William."
"Just William?"
"That is all you'll be addressing me by, isn't it?"
"I suppose so."
He helped her to her feet and then began pacing in front of her. "Would it interest you to be part of my crew for a while, or would you rather we try and find the ship you came from? What was it called?"
"Uh." Claire contemplated these choices. "I could help out on board—you did save my life after all—until we find my mother's ship. It's called the Silverwing."
William frowned and looked straight at her. "The Silverwing?"
"Yessir."
"That name rings a bell."
Claire's eyes widened, hoping she hadn't just betrayed her mother by telling him that. She still didn't know if she could trust William, but she owed him her life now. She was going to have to repay him somehow, whether he was trustworthy or not. "Well, I wouldn't know why…it's a fairly new ship."
"Do you mean the Starling?"
"No, sir. It's the Silverwing for sure, sir."
"Hm." William began pacing again. "Well, Miss Wellington, it would be a pleasure to have you aboard. What was your position when you were aboard the Silverwing?"
Claire's heart sank and she looked at her boots. "Dishwasher."
"Sorry?" Will asked, cupping a hand to his ear. "Didn't catch that."
"I was the…dishwasher."
The entire crew—including Will—burst out laughing. Claire felt heat crawl up her neck and spread across her cheeks and ears. "It isn't that funny. I was in that position because I was good at it," she lied.
Will stopped laughing but there was still a smile on his face. "Sorry, dear. Well, you won't have to be burdened with that awful job here."
"Why not? I haven't any experience with anything else."
Will chuckled. "We haven't any dishes that need cleaning."
Claire raised her eyebrows. "Really?"
"No. Aboard the Dutchmen, we use the greatest utensils ever made: our fingers!" Will and his crew cheered and lifted their hands into the air. Claire made a face. How disgusting. Her mother was a pirate, but she still managed to keep her good, ladylike table manners. Claire tried, but she wasn't good at being a lady. She just wasn't proper, and she never would be. Her mother often looked down on her because she was rude or over the top.
Will's crew scattered and went back to their posts and Will began talking with his assistant. Claire stood there, unsure of what to do. Will looked up at her and did a double take, as if he'd forgotten she was there.
"Talk to Garby. He'll give you a job." He gestured to a brawny-looking an with one, thick eyebrow.
Claire nodded and went over to the man. "Excuse me, sir. The Captain told me to come to you for a job?"
Garby nodded and pointed to some crates. "Stick those in the captain's cabin. When yer done, come back and I'll tell ya what else ter do."
"Thank you." Claire smiled charmingly and bent to pick up a crate. There mustn't have been anything in it; it was rather light. "May I ask what's in here?"
"No," responded Garby gruffly.
Claire shrugged and carried the crate through the door that the big man had pointed to.
Will's cabin was warm and tidy with some chairs and a desk. A gas lamp was lit and illuminated several maps and charts that were stacked on the surface of the desk.
Claire set down the crate and let curiosity get the best of her. She crept over to the desk and peered down at the maps. There were several notes scrawled in the margins in loopy handwriting and a few letters that hadn't been opened yet. One of them caught her eye; it was in her mother's handwriting.
Claire didn't know what to do. How could her mother know Will? How could Will know her mother? She gingerly picked up the letter and turned it over to see that it indeed had been opened; she just couldn't see it from the front side.
Carefully, she fished the parchment out of the envelope and read the first few lines:
Dearest Will,
You can't keep doing this to me. It's been nearly twenty years since I saw you last. Why didn't you come? Why didn't you visit me and finally meet your daughter? She's beautiful, Will—she looks just like you. She so wants to meet you. I haven't had the strength to tell her anything because it hurts too much…
Claire dropped the parchment on to the table. It was not her mother's handwriting. It couldn't be. That would mean…
She looked at the bottom of the letter and saw, to her relief, that there was no signature. It was probably just his ladylove that just happened to have handwriting similar to her mother's. That was all.
Carefully, Claire set the note down exactly where she'd found it and left the cabin.
She found Garby standing at the base of the main mast looking up. She walked over to him and tapped him on his bulky shoulder. "Excuse me."
Garby didn't even look at her when he said, "Move the rest of the crates inter the cabins, girl."
"Okay." Claire turned, wide-eyed, and approached the crates. Something inside of her squirmed. She really did not want to go back into that cabin.