Disclaimer: same old, same old.
Author's notes:
- This chapter contains references to one of my POTC stories, "A cry in the darkness".
- The title comes from the 2007 album by Filipino singer Kyla.
- The quote is from the play "Hamlet", written around 1600 by English playwright and poet William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616).
- To Acacia: please don't be angry for the ending of this chapter… ;o)
- To Smithy: hi! Well, it's a nice coincidence I've mentioned aquamarines in the previous chapter. Happy birthday!
Chapter 7: Heartfelt
On Shipwreck Island's beach…
In his stupefaction, Bootstrap Bill felt his lower jaw hit the sandy beach. But it regained it right place in a snap to make him roar!
"WHAT'D YOU SAY??!"
"You've heard me, William Turner the elder," said the goddess in human form. "Your son did his duty thoroughly. His wife has been faithful. The heart locked in the Dead Man's Chest has become a symbol of pure love. The bound tying your son to his ship should be severed, but... Who will command the Flying Dutchman if William Turner the young steps down from his captaincy?"
"BUT WHAT DO WE CARE ABOUT THAT SHIP, FOR GOD'S SAKE!"
"I do, William Turner the elder. I can't let wandering souls linger in the ocean's waters for years while desperately searching for a way to reach peace. Centuries ago, it was easier for me to take care of those who had died at sea: humans weren't too keen about sea voyages because of frightening tempests and the fear of getting lost in an immensity of water. Men restricted their travels within the Mediterranean, the Arabic coasts to reach India and the European shores. Only a handful of Vikings had dared to sail West but their claims of having found new territories fell on deaf ears... until an Italian explorer reached Hispaniola after having lost his way. And then, what happened? Greedy men built bigger ships, invented better navigational instruments, and hired hundreds of sailors to cruise restlessly across the globe for riches, regardless of danger: thousands died at sea and I soon became overwhelmed with the task of helping their souls to reach the Other Side."
Bill looked at his William, lying on the beach in pain, trying to stifle his moans to not alarm the little boy who, thankfully, was still closing his eyes and covering his ears. Elizabeth, her face awash with tears, was using her handkerchief to stop the blood seeping from the scar on Will's chest, but the linen was already soaked in spite of her attempts. It would be a matter of minutes before Will would bleed to death.
"Is that why you asked Davy Jones to be your soul-ferryman?" growled Bill. "So hundreds of dead passengers could board in just one ghost ship to be transported to the Other Side?"
"That's correct. I admit having trusted the wrong man, and also that the length of his duty was a bit excessive. To my defense, he accepted all my conditions willingly, blinded by his obsessive love for me. But the fact is, there are still souls lost at sea out there, and there is a ghost ship without a Captain anchored in Shipwreck Island's cove. William Turner the young has triumphed over his duty's obligations and it would allow him to live with his family but alas, the only way to find another Captain for the Flying Dutchman is to stab the heart of the former one."
A furious Bootstrap jumped on his feet, thinking: "I knew it! I knew there would be something in the wind! I was certain she would try to prevent Will from being freed, damn her!"
The idea of hitting a woman had never crossed Bill's mind in his life but he looked ready to punch Calypso on the nose, regardless of the years he would have to spend in the Locker for this. His angry face made the hidden man cowering deeper in the bushes out of fear, muttering under his breath:
"Take it easy, Bill. She's a heathen goddess, remember?"
As if she had been aware of his intentions, Calypso said firmly: "Don't blame me for this condition: it has been decreed by Jones when he created the Dead Man's Chest, not by me!"
"Settle your accounts with Jones, then!"
"He has been overthrown from his command; therefore, this matter must be dealt with his successor."
"Anyone caught trying to stab Will's heart gets clobbered!" yelled Bootstrap, making Elizabeth jump in fright.
In spite of the hands covering his ears, Will-Trey sensed the commotion and whispered: "Mummy?". The boy was getting nervous and it was getting harder for him by the minute to respect the promise he had made earlier to his mother.
"Do you have another solution, then, William Turner the elder?" asked Calypso.
Bill's frantic eyes cast a long glance at his cherished son, cradled in Elizabeth's lap. The young woman was pleading, asking Will to hold on, to stay calm and to concentrate on her, reassuring him everything would be all right even if it was obvious she didn't have a clue about what to do to help. Will was biting at his lips to prevent himself from screaming but the pain was taking its toll on the young man's courage. The blood kept on sweeping from the scar and the contact of land on his body, welcomed a few minutes ago, had become odious to him, like the time he had been half-buried in a crate full of soil to be tortured by Red Hand Pete.
Bootstrap could have choked on the lump of sorrow blocking his throat. His William, his baby, his Little One was in pain once again, all this because of Davy Jones and a captaincy he had never asked for in the first place... It would have made Bill break down and cry but a word written in fire letters inside his brains suddenly shone in all its fury, stopping dead his grief: Enough.
Will didn't have to suffer from the past actions of evildoers, may they be Masters of the Seas, East India Trading Company bigwigs or bloodthirsty pirates.
That was enough.
Will was an exceptional man endowed with an angelic soul, but he hadn't been put on Earth to repair other people's wrongs for the rest of his life.
Enough was enough.
Will had been prevented to be with Elizabeth and their son for ten years, and their long-awaited reunion wouldn't be thwarted at the last minute by an age-old pact concluded between Jones and the forces of Darkness. Not as long as William Turner Senior could breathe… and had a plan in his back pocket. Something he had thought about long and hard for months, a failure-proof way to make sure his son would be definitively protected from the Dead Man's Chest's demands.
Enough!
Bootstrap resolutely walked towards Tia Dalma/Calypso, locked his blue gaze into the jet-black eyes, and said:
"Let's make a deal."
Beneath the nearby bushes…
The concealed man grumbled imprecations after some bushes' branches, swayed by the wind, hit him repetitively on the face.
"Stay still, you poor example of a shoreline vegetation! You have been granted the privilege to procure me a hideaway, but our promiscuity doesn't give you the right to pop my eyes out. Wearing a patch is a common feat amongst pirates but I've never been one to follow fashion or the law, whichever comes first, and I'd rather keep both my optical organs in an intact state to keep my vision sharp in case of impending trouble, savvy? Not to forget that my incredibly-handsome features would be quite altered in case of an accidental enucleating. So stay put, while I point this useful little instrument on the interesting scene displayed a few feet from my observation post…"
The man adjusted the focus of his spyglass as he didn't want to miss a second of the confrontation between Calypso and the Turners. He had been hiding on this beach since dawn, hoping to assist unnoticed at Will and Elizabeth's reunion and for that, he had folded his slender frame for hours in those bushes. He had smiled like a wolf watching Will kissing Elizabeth and hugging his son, gasped in surprise after the heathen deity had showed up on the beach, whistled in admiration at the sight of the golden heart rising from the Dead Man's Chest. But those admirable moments had turned grim: Will had collapsed, Elizabeth was in tears and Bootstrap was enraged.
The man didn't know the cause for Will to feel faint but he knew it somehow had a connection with the dark-skinned, regal-looking woman: therefore, he had to interfere!
"All right, it looks like my smart intellect is desperately needed to rectify the imperiled situation! Whatever Tia Dalma or oceanic supernatural creature has in store, it certainly doesn't do Will any good and I'm not going to stand still like a beached ship while my kid brother suffers. Arguing with a mule-headed deity requires superior intelligence, vast improvisation skills and unlimited resourcefulness, meaning I am the perfect person to accomplish this mission since I am…"
But before he could finish his sentence, a branch hit the man in his right jet-black eye, cutting his tirade in a litany of epithets.
"OUCH! Ow! Bugger! Damn and bugger! Ooooh, this hurts… This is treason! A mutiny! How dare you hit the most able sailor who had ever graced the ocean's salty waters (ouch!) of his presence, you vegetal menace? Ow, ow, ow! I shall have you cut down and use your remains to sweep my main deck with!"
Alternatively cursing and threatening, the man rubbed at his aching eye and then he half-blindly searched inside a nearby leather bag to find something to ease the pain, but his fingers failed to find a rounded recipient containing a much-appreciated liquid.
"Bugger! I forgot I've drank it all already. Great! At the exact time I need it for external use, it is gone! Then again, why is it always gone? But that little incident won't slow me down, ow!. Pain, haircuts and gibbets have no hold over me since I am more slippery than a conger eel. Let's concentrate on the matter at hand (ouch, bugger it), namely the current dispute occurring between my Turners and the beauteous and quite exotic Tia Dalma. As I've said earlier, presenting irrefutable arguments to a lady showing a maelstrom-provoking temper and a tendency to get supersized when on her high hippocampuses is a job for…"
At the same moment, the bush's branch hit him on the face again.
"OUCH! For somebody else!"
On Shipwreck Island's beach…
"What sort of deal do you wish to make, William Turner the elder?" asked Calypso with an amused half-smile on her lips, as if she was silently daring the towering sailor to find a solution in this dead-end situation.
Bill took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was going to happen, and then he said:
"When you were bound into a human form, you had enough magic within you to raise Hector Barbossa from the grave, a whole year after his demise. After you have been freed by the Brethren Court, you have gained magical powers beyond belief; I remember the maelstrom quite vividly, even if I were out of my mind at the time. I know you can work wonders, so I propose this: you use your magic to give Will's heart its fleshy nature again and you put it back inside his chest."
"And what do you have to propose, in exchange of my services? I want payment."
"I offer my heart as a replacement."
The goddess' eyes widened slightly after hearing the proposal, and Bill had a sad smile at the thought that he, the lowest man of the lowest people's group, had surprised a supernatural being. "Ol' Bootstrap Bill Turner has managed to become a hero, but only in the last years of his life… Oh well, better late than never."
"Are you actually offering to take your son's place?"
"I do! The heart of a Turner for the heart of another Turner, it will make no differences for the Dead Man's Chest. I've been a seaman all my life, I know the Flying Dutchman from the darkest parts of its brig to the mainmast's top and I've been accustomed with ferrying passengers to the Other Side from sailing with my son. I will follow his example in caring for the souls; they will be treated with compassion and altruism, just like Will did. Give my son's life back, and I will captain the Flying Dutchman in his stead."
"That is quite a task you are loading on your shoulders, William Turner the elder. It isn't an easy feat to pilot this large ship alone."
"I'll probably be granted the "transportation" ability and it'll help me dealing with the sails and riggings. I can also produce financial means to buy supplies. As for the rest, it has always been in my blood to die at sea!"
"Won't you have any regrets about laying down your life to save your son's future? Wouldn't you have wanted to stay in his house, enjoy some family life and get acquainted with your grandson until it would be your time to be ferried?"
A flash of regret crossed Bootstrap's face; yes, of course he would rather age in a cocoon of love, warmth and security instead of drifting on the oceans forever! Will had promised him a good home, where the old man's only worries would have been to invent new games to entertain his grandchildren. But from the very first moment Calypso had showed up on the beach, Bill had known his hopes for a better future had been crushed, thus causing his wrath. And yet, the goddess – just like Jones – had underestimated the elder Turner's love for his son.
"Only Will matters," said Bill firmly. "Give him back his heart and I'll place mine in the Dead Man's Chest. All I ask in return is a day ashore to spend with my family and I'll return to the Flying Dutchman at sunset. Do we have an accord?"
At the same moment, Will, still in Elizabeth's arms, made a superhuman effort to sit up in spite of the terrible pain coming from his open wound. Blood had colored his white shirt into a deep red and he looked as if he would die any minute, just like after Jones had stabbed him. But in spite of his sufferings, Will had overheard Bill's proposal to Calypso/Tia Dalma and his chivalrous nature was revolted at the thought his father would sacrifice himself to save him from Jones' shadow. The young man raised a shaky hand towards his father, calling out weakly:
"N-No…. No! Papa… P-Papa!"
Those pain-filled words made Bill feel like he had been stabbed in the gut, but his resolve was taut like a bow's string; he wouldn't let anything or anyone preventing Will from being reunited with his wife and child, not even his son's pleas. The heart of a Turner for the heart of another Turner, that was a good deal and it didn't matter if the replacement organ had a bit of wear and tear around the edges: it was still strong, its beat was steady and, more importantly, it was filled with love.
"What says ye?" asked Bootstrap, his gaze never wavering. "Do we have an accord?"
The heathen goddess had a strange, flickering half-smile on her lips, and then she slightly bowed her head in the direction of the old sailor.
"We have an accord, William Turner the elder."
"Very well, then; you make Will's heart back into its original state, and you put it back inside his torso to make him mortal again. I will carve out mine as soon as it is done."
"Why not now?"
"Ladies first," replied Bootstrap Bill slyly.
Deep down, he couldn't trust that "woman" even if she had announced springtime in March. After all she had done, her scheming to get rid of the Davy Jones disaster by putting his beloved son in mortal peril, and her constant reminding of the Flying Dutchman needing a Captain, he simply couldn't give a lot of credit to her word. He would keep his end of the deal only after seeing Will alive, in good health and free.
"So be it," answered the supernatural creature.
She snapped her fingers and the floating gold heart mounted with jewels instantly changed into a muscular organ covered with dried blood and animated by repeated, rhythmic contractions. Another quick movement of her fingers and the transformed heart flew from above the Dead Man's Chest to hit Will squarely on his left breast, like a bullet! The impact was so violent the young man got thrown backwards on the beach in a cloud of sand; he let out an agonizing scream, making Will-Trey jump in fear and this time, the boy uncovered his ears.
"WILL!" yelled Elizabeth.
"MUMMY!" exclaimed Will-Trey. He opened his eyes at the sound of his mother's voice and the little boy saw his father lying on the sand while a horrified Elizabeth was kneeling at his side.
"Mummy, what's happening? What's wrong with Daddy?"
The child rushed towards his parents but at the same moment, the heart moved of its own accord to seep into Will's chest through the gaping scar, with the easiness of an octopus squeezing itself in a hole between two rocks. The organ disappeared inside the naked torso, causing a gush of blood to pour out from the wound's lips, a second before Will-Trey had reached his parents. For an absurd reason, Elizabeth was grateful the boy hadn't seen the heart re-entering his father's body, even though he couldn't be spared of the sight of Will in pain.
"DADDY! Mummy, he's bleeding! What happened?"
Will screamed again as he felt the heart's severed aortas and veins were knitted back together with the ones left inside his chest; the ache was unbearable! He writhed helplessly on the sand in a desperate attempt to escape from this immense suffering and Elizabeth feared his trashing about would aggravate his state. Blood was being pumped within his body once again, awakening sensations Will hadn't felt for a decade and the shock, the sharp pain, the distressed faces of Elizabeth and Will-Trey overwhelmed him.
Will fainted.
Beneath the nearby bushes…
The man lying in wait in the bushes had finally got rid of the branch which had obstinately wanted to have a go at his eyes – simply by snapping it in two – and he had resumed his observations of the group on the beach again.
"Awright, what do we have in here?" grumbled the strange man through his gold, silver and enamel dentition while adjusting his spyglass. He was sure he would have a black eye from the branch's slaps but he didn't give a damn about it.
"If not for that bark-covered interloper, I wouldn't have missed a thing of this interesting reunion… Now, what is Bill saying to Tia Dalma? Dunno, but I really wish I could hear it 'cause ol' Bootsie isn't very good at making plans… Then again, people gifted with my cleverness are quite rare. OHMYGOSH! The heart is made of flesh and blood again! And… OHMYHOLYGOSH! It had flown right at Will's torso! I'm ready to bet my silver teeth against a pair of smelly socks that it is regaining its rightful place, a.k.a. inside Will's anatomy… Aw, Lizzie, don't cry! Sure, it must be hard to see and even more for Will to bear, but I'm sure our high-ranking friend is doing her best to make it as quick as possible… Er, probably… Well, maybe… Somehow… I hope so, anyway! Oh, bugger it, what is Bill doing now? Why is he kneeling in front of the Dreadful Man's Coffer, instead of taking care of Will?"
The whole scene was puzzling the undercover man, since he knew all about the elder Turner's unshakable affection for his son. But one glance at Calypso in her Tia Dalma personae made his blood turn into ice in his veins: her face had changed from impassive to severe, as if she had just realized something and she wasn't too happy with her conclusions.
"I really, really should interfere but Calypso doesn't look like she would appreciate an interruption, in fact she presently has the same face she bore just before unleashing the maelstrom. Ah, Shakespeare was right: "To be or not to be, that is the question". My prudent nature advises me to stay here, whereas concern for the Turners in general and for my William in particular, tells me to step up and be a man. Ah, the dreadful net of indecisiveness and uncertainty of knowledge, immobilizing a man like me like a sparrow in a snare… Damn it, I need a drink!"
On Shipwreck Island's beach…
"WILL! Oh God, my love, please wake up! Come back to us, tell me you are going to be all right!" pleaded Elizabeth.
She was cushioning Will's head with her arm, lightly slapping his face in an effort to revive him. His long locks of dark hair were covered with sand and his body was completely limp, vanquished by the terrible intrusion he had endured. The left side of his shirt was caked with blood and his handsome face was livid, making him look like a legendary hero wounded after a terrible battle. Beneath his chest, the aortas and veins were completely healed and the heart, finally regaining its primary functions, pumped blood throughout the vessels in a rapid, steady beat: th-thump, th-thump, th-thump…
"Mummy, is he going to die? Please, tell me, is Daddy dying?"
For the life of her, Elizabeth couldn't answer to her son's desperate questions: she had been hiding the existence of the Dead Man's Chest and its precious contents for ten years, she simply couldn't tell Will-Trey about it to explain the cause of his father's sudden fainting. The child was already scared by the events; he didn't need stories about hearts being carved out and a container created by a monster!
"Will, beloved, wake up, I want to see your marvelous eyes open. Oh God, please, don't take him away from me, not now…"
"Grandpa! Mrs. Dalma! Come and help my Daddy!"
Bill had kneeled nearby the Dead Man's Chest, sadly looking over his shoulder at the unconscious young man. He had feared the operation would be painful and he would have given his soul on the spot to spare Will from this terrible experience; unfortunately, there hadn't been any other means at hand to reunite his son with his heart. But Elizabeth's pleadings, Will's screams of pain, his grandson's frantic questions had been very hard for Bootstrap to endure and it had taken all his self-control to not rush and cradle his son in his arms for the last time before long, very long.
He raised his eyes towards Tia Dalma/Calypso; as on cue, she looked down at him with an uncompromising expression on her face.
"Your son has his heart back; he will feel better in a minute, and he will live a mortal life with his family. Now, I expect you to keep your side of the bargain, William Turner the elder. Your heart for his, your life for his!"
Bill never hesitated; he tore open his own shirt and took his knife from out his cloak's pocket. The carefully-sharpened blade shone under the sun, giving it a sinister gleam in spite of the pure morning light basking Shipwreck Island. The towering man bent over the Dead Man's Chest and then he pointed the knife towards his left breast.
One strike to pierce his flesh, a downward movement to enlarge the wound; then, Bill would have to ignore the terrible pain and the massive blood loss to cut the vessels anchoring the beating organ and gravity would help by making it fall down right into the Dead Man's Chest. He could do it; Davy Jones had carved out his own heart and he was the worst coward the world had ever seen. Bootstrap Bill would endure tortures created by the Devil himself without a second thought if it could protect Will!
The older man's eyes misted at the thought he would never know the joy of watching his grandchildren grow up. But his sorrow, his regrets wouldn't stop his sacrifice.
"A deal is a deal," thought Bill somberly. "And now, I will pay the debt I owe you in full, my cherished William. It is only justice that I should ferry the souls to the Other Side since it has been my past actions that put you in this situation. Years ago, I've said you would be my redemption and I was right; you saved my life, my soul, my sanity but it is high time to deliver you from my cumbersome presence. Will, my angel, I am setting you free from the Dutchman's cage. Deploy your wings and spread goodness all over the world; this is your new duty and, from time to time, have some nice thoughts now and then for your stupid father, who will keep the souvenir of you like a warm blanket wrapped around him to fight the chill off his bones when sailing on sad waters."
Bill tightened his hold on the knife's black-and-white handle, his blue eyes shining like phosphorescent sapphires from his absolute determination. One strike…
"I'm doing this for Will, for Elizabeth and for Will-Trey but also for me, to redeem my past actions. I'm doing this for us all. Will, my wonderful darling, I love you."
In a brusque movement, Bootstrap plunged the knife towards his chest… and gasped in surprise.
The blade stopped at less of an inch from his flesh!
TBC…