DISCLAIMER Don't own Will…I do own Wally, but he'll probably never show up in anything I ever write. *shrugs*
Kingleby I really do like Norrington. I think he's a noble character and shows his true personality at the end. And, as much as I adore Will, I feel a little bit bad for him! He looks so hopefully when Elizabeth says "As a wedding gift."
It always rained in London. A young boy, recently having turned 11, pulled his coat more tightly around him. The fresh grave before him looked sad in the rain. Water dripped slowly from the chiseled word "Turner." It looked as though the stone itself was crying.
Will Turner turned from his mother's grave. It had rained the day before also…the day they'd buried her. The gray skies mirrored the boy's sorrow as he left the graveyard.
His mother had been all he had left in the world. She'd lovingly raised him alone after his father had left when he was six years old. For the past five years, the older William Turner had been sailing a merchant vessel in a sea of islands far away.
Will so often wished he could see his father again. He used to send Will and his mother money once or twice a year to help them along. But for the past two years, the gifts had stopped. His last had been sent specifically to Will: an ornately carved gold medallion.
He pulled the medallion out from under his shirt. It hung on a chain around his neck for safekeeping. A glaring skull stared at him from the gold. As scary as the gilded image was, the medallion was a gift from his father. Will treasured it above anything else he owned.
Returning to his empty house for only a moment, Will took his sack and left. It was not a long walk to the dock section of the city, but Will had never been in that part of London before. It was rough-and-tumble and most boys avoided it if they didn't live there.
A magnificent merchant ship was docked far at the end of the pier. Will cautiously approached the dock master. "G'day sir."
The man peered over his spectacles at the boy. "What be yer name, son?"
"Will Turner," he answered nervously. "I requested passage yesterday."
The docksman scanned the few pages he had in front of him. "Ah yes, Turner. Yer quarters'll be down in the hold." He paused to glare at the boy. "I trust ye won't make trouble aboard th' ship!"
"No sir."
The man nodded and Will scurried aboard. He wasn't used to the gruff nature of seamen. It unnerved him. He climbed down into the hold as quickly as he could, wanting to escape the rain and be alone.
Will was even more discouraged to see his "quarters." It was no more than a board with a blanket thrown across it. The bed was shoved in a corner in a small room with five others crammed in around it. It would be a very long voyage.
Curling up in the corner of his cot, Will shut out the noisy docks outside. He still grieved over the death of his mother. The decision to sail away from London had been spur-of-the-moment, driven by loneliness and sorrow.
Reality began to sink in as the boy suddenly felt the ship move. He climbed from the cot and peered out on deck. The docks of London got smaller and smaller as the ship made way for the open sea.
Will suddenly realized what he was doing. The gentle rocking of the Channel was nothing compared to what they would face on the open ocean and already the boy felt sick. It would be a very long trip indeed.
As he tried to lie very still on his board, his mind wandered far away. What would the Caribbean be like? Will knew nothing about it. He didn't even know where to start looking for his father. 'Merchant vessels must be registered or something,' he thought. 'All I have to do is find him in the records.'
This was a bad idea and Will knew it. What if he couldn't find his father? The Caribbean was big. Who knows how many islands there were? His father could be anywhere.
"'Ello son!"
Will turned his head slowly to see a man in his thirties relaxing on the cot beside him. "Hello," he returned weakly.
The man laughed. "Aw, don' worry. Yer sickness'll pass. What's a boy like ye doin' goin' ter the Caribbean?"
"I'm looking for my father." Will sighed. "My mother died recently, so I have no reason to stay in England now."
"Sorry to 'ear that." The man held out his hand. "Name's Wally! This be me third voyage to the Caribbean."
"Wow. Is it a long voyage?"
Wally laughed. "As long as can be expected. Is this yer first trip to the Caribbean, Mr.…?"
"Oh!" Will blushed at his bad manners. "My name is Will Turner."
The grin left Wally's face. "Yer looking fer yer father, ye said?"
"Yes." Will nodded. "Bill Turner. Do you know him?"
"No," Wally said shortly. He didn't talk anymore.
Will as puzzled. Wally had seemed the kind of guy who would talk a man's ear off, given the chance. But after Will mentioned his father, he couldn't get the sailor to say another word. No one else was around and soon even Wally had gone above decks.
Left alone in the hold, Will bunched up his jacket as a pillow and tried to rest. He idly wound his finger around the chain of his medallion as the rocking of the sea carried him to the Caribbean in his dreams.
