There was no way to tell how long Will had been on the Smiling Skull when the pirates attacked the merchant vessel. The fierce roars outside stirred him from his dozing. The sounds of cannon fire and gun shots followed, with the clashing of sword against sword not far behind. The battle ended almost as quickly as it started, and then the screams started, a woman's screams with a background of sobbing and laughter.
The screams cut through the fog in Will's brain like nothing else had or could. He studied the shackle, looking for a way to remove it from his ankle. He was still struggling with the chain when Captain Hawke slipped noiselessly into the room, a strange glint in his eyes. Will dropped the chain and took an involuntary step back towards the wall. Outside another woman's screams joined the first.
"Did you forget?" Hawke queried, calm as ever.
Will froze with indecision. Everything in him demanding he drop to his knees in obedience to the captain's rules, while a voice he couldn't ignore in his head screamed at him to do something…anything to help the women outside.
Captain Hawke stated as Will's eyes flickered towards the outside noises and then back to him, "You can't help them. Might as well help yourself and kneel." He pulled out his switch and took a threatening step forward. Trembling Will forced himself to his knees and bowed his head. He couldn't help the women if he was dead.
Will was surprised when he only received five lashes from the switch. He sat immobile, not daring to raise his head, even when he heard the captain's rustling movements continue across the room. Hawke returned with his goblet of champagne. He drained half the glass as he stood over his slave, but when Will started to rise to refill the drink a hand on his head stopped him. As the goblet was set aside and the hand tangled itself in his hair, Will was suddenly reminded of his last week with Barbossa's crew. Panic clenched his throat, and Will lost all reason. He could no longer hear the screams of the women, but he couldn't tell if they had fallen silent or if he just couldn't hear over the blood rushing in his ears.
In the end, Will's frantic struggles did no good. Hawke left him facedown bleeding on his bedding. The crew's rowdy partying could still be heard from outside, but the women's cries and shrieks had long faded into silence. Will just lay there, shuddering as he pressed his face into the bedding beneath him, body throbbing all over. He found himself yearning for the stupor of the witch's brew and hating himself for wanting it. Tensing at every noise from where the captain moved about the opposite side of the room, Will waited for the inevitable return. It was too soon.
From that day on Will was forbidden to cover himself, even his bed sheets were removed. Every day, Hawke would use him, never seeming satisfied, and beat him, and then at the end of the day he would give Will more of the witch's brew. Occasionally the captain would have him carefully shaved and his hair trimmed, but the young man paid little attention to this. Clarity was a thing of the past. There were other captured vessels and screams, but they ceased to penetrate the fog that had engulfed Will. Nothing was more important than the mind-numbing drink. It seemed that this would be the rest of his life, with no end in sight, no hope. But then she came.