Chapter 7 – The Last Time
Nine years and three months earlier…
Elizabeth felt a terrible pain ripple through her abdomen and clutched at her side with a gasp. The pirate standing over her brandished his sword menacingly and laughed at her discomfort. There was an old sabre cut across his left cheek, the skin pale against his swarthy complexion and pulling tight as he grinned lewdly down at her.
Elizabeth scolded herself for her weakness and pulled a knife from beneath the pillow at her elbow, holding it defensively before her with a frightfully savage look upon her face. The pirate stiffened for a moment, cautioned off; then another contraction torn through her and she clutched her swollen belly with her other hand. She gritted her teeth against the low moan that escaped her despite herself; it was all she could do not to drop the knife in despair and scream. The pirate knew she was helpless and laughed again, the horrid sound grating on her. Her eyes travelled from the maid sprawled senseless on the floor to the partially open cabin door, through which she could hear a fierce battle taking place out on the deck. A cutlass' blade suddenly intersected her vision, drawing her attention back to her antagonist.
"No one left to help ye now, poppet," he drawled coarsely, his words conjuring up in her horrible feelings of terror and helplessness from past experiences. "Ye certainly can't help yerself in yer condition. A pirate raid sure ain't the time to be havin' a babe."
Elizabeth cursed and cursed herself again for not leaving for the home of her father's cousin earlier. She had been suppose to go and stay with family in Bristol months ago, well before the impending birth of her child, but she had put off leaving Port Royal as long as possible. Why, she wasn't sure herself…perhaps because she had been living in his house there, and she had wanted to remain connected to him for as long as possible…even though she knew he could not return there to be with her for the birth of their child…
And now the baby was coming early. Elizabeth was more terrified than she had ever been in her entire life, more than she had thought she could ever be. She had flattered herself that she could handle almost anything, more than most women could; but she had been caught in the worst situation possible, utterly unprepared and unable to do the simplest thing to defend herself. Her contractions had started just before their ship had been attacked by a pirate vessel. This ruffian had entered her cabin, knocking the terrified maid to the floor where she remained, unconscious, as Elizabeth lay prone on the bed.
Another pain shot through her; Elizabeth whimpered, her eyes streaming tears and curling up in a quivering ball, the knife falling, useless, beside her on the mattress. The pirate lowered his blade with a sneer, knowing full-well that he need do nothing to keep her unarmed.
"Lie there quietly while I have a look at that sea chest of yours," he muttered. Elizabeth's breath seemed to stop and her heart pounded fit to breaking in her chest as he turned and looked with a malicious grin at the chest on the floor beside the bed. Her nerves similarly shook as he seized its lid and jostled it roughly. It was securely locked.
She felt his frustration as he eyed her. Though she was terrified and pitifully inept, she resolved to stab him if he tried to search her for the key, hand poised on the bed beside her and ready to dive for the nearby knife. He took a step towards her and her blood hummed in her veins, prepared for the confrontation; then her blood froze as he stopped, his hand going to the hilt of his sword as he turned back towards the chest again. Over her own palpitating heart she heard him growl:
"I'll have my fun with you after I've made short work of this."
Everything, even the pain in her belly, disappeared as his cutlass slid from its sheath with an ugly sound; her eyes followed it desperately as it was raised over the ruffian's head, the sea chest clearly in its downward path. Time slowed itself and it seemed to remain in the air for an eternity; yet that time ended all too quickly as the blade began to arc downwards at the chest's unprotected lid. She knew perfectly well what would happen it that sword hacked through the wood and damaged what was inside…
"No-!" she cried out, groping madly towards the chest, willing herself to spring up and shield it with her own body but pain racking her anew as she tried to rise, causing her legs to buckle beneath her…as the sword descended she thought she saw a shadow flutter beyond it, outside the cabin's window…
Moments before the sword could splinter through the chest, the window behind it exploded inwards in a maelstrom of broken glass, through which Elizabeth's disbelieving eyes could see someone…
The newly arriving assailant swung into the room on a rope, both of his heavy black boots catching the pirate in the chest. The wind knocked out of him, he fell back, letting go of the cutlass; its blade was still embedded in the chest's lid, the merest nick taken out of the wood. The newcomer stood firmly between the pirate and the chest, his eyes flashing with dark rage as the ruffian, thoroughly winded, crumpled against the opposite wall. He deftly kicked the fallen cutlass from where it was wedged in the weathered and blade-nicked wood; it slid across the room and into a corner, well beyond the dangerous hands of its owner. A dark bird fluttered to the man's shoulder. It looked at Elizabeth with intelligent eyes which registered recognition; it squawked a greeting.
"Will!" she cried out, almost fainting in awestruck disbelief, half wondering if it were some incredible waking dream to see him standing there. He turned and saw her.
His eyes took in her, lying on the dishevelled sheets, her hand still clutching her swollen belly protectively; he stared, seeming to falter for a moment-
During which the brigand recovered himself enough to draw a knife and lunge at him. The knife plunged deeply into his chest.
"Will!" Elizabeth screamed shrilly, almost in one long sob. Her heart hurt as her mind hurtled back to that horrible moment when she had seen Davy Jones' sword pierce his chest; she was watching him die a second time…
Will seemed slightly stunned; then as the pirate stepped back after his mad lunge, Will's right fist flew up and connected with his jaw with a sickening crunch. With a sharp yank, Will pulled the knife from where it was buried in his chest, its blade intersecting the old scar there, as though it worried him no more than a bur stuck in his clothing. The thin trickle of blood flowed back upwards into the wound and disappeared. Elizabeth's eyes widened in amazement, feeling relief and wonderment coursing through her. She remembered the former Davy Jones' powers…to think that the man she loved now possessed them…
The pirate reeled from the hit, blood dripping from his broken jaw. Will took a menacing step towards him, then stopped dead in his tracks as the pirate drew a pistol from his coat and, before he could act, pointed the barrel at Elizabeth.
"Stay, or I kill 'er!" His words were slurred slightly by the mangled jaw that hung slackly, at an odd angle, from his face. He cocked the pistol, watching Will with wild eyes. Will's gaze flitted back to Elizabeth; she looked back at him helplessly. Seeing his attention shift, the brigand suddenly turned the barrel on the sea chest at Will's feet and pulled the trigger.
Will saw Elizabeth's gaze shift back to the pirate just in time. He blindly threw himself at him, knocking him over before he even registered that the man had fired. The pirate's arm was jostled by the impact; the pistol's barrel careened around as the ball left the chamber, shattering the jug that stood on Elizabeth's nightstand.
Will swung the knife in his hand downwards into the pirate's chest; he gave a great, shuddering gasp which swiftly became a hoarse death-rattle. The pistol dropped from his stiffened hand. Will advanced with him to the shattered window and threw him out into the ocean. Beyond the broken window frame Elizabeth could just see a set of dark sails in the distance - the Dutchman. She had brought her captain back to Elizabeth just in time.
She said his name now, her voice tender, a weary, near-delirious smile upon her tear-streaked face. All through her pregnancy, since the moment he had left her, she had longed for him; now at the time of the birth, he was actually here. She was still only half-believing, still thought it might be some vision, her own sense of longing made material; it was too good, too miraculous to be true.
"Elizabeth."
His voice saying her name reassured her of his presence. She could hear all the love in his voice, the same emotion he had spoken it with during their engagement. She could also hear the surprise, the uncertainty in it as he stared at her, at her obviously pregnant form…she hadn't been able to tell him, to write down such a momentous thing on a mundane piece of paper…this was the first he'd learnt of it…he was right to be shocked…
The door to the cabin flew off its hinges, making Elizabeth flinch. A brigand stood in the doorway, obviously drawn by curiosity for his comrade's long absence. In an instant, his eyes flitted from Elizabeth to Will to the sea chest standing before the broken window.
He took one step into the room, his hand going for his sabre. Before he could draw it, Will was upon him, running him through. He fell in a heap in the now-open doorway. They could hear several sets of running footsteps approaching beyond it.
Will strode purposefully towards the door, reaching down and taking the fallen pirate's sword from his belt as he did so, drawing his own with his other hand. It emitted a clear metallic ring as it flew smoothly from its sheath.
"Will," she called out to him again as he left the cabin, a bare blade in each hand. Desperation and longing were written on her face. He stood for a moment in the door, looking back at her. The look was one of utmost seriousness; one she had seldom seen on his face, one that wrung her heart with guilt. It was a mournful look, a look of askance, of disappointment. Did he suspect another man…?
Footsteps rapidly approached him from either side of the upper deck. He didn't break his gaze away from her, but pointed either blade to his left or right. With simultaneous vertical thrusts in opposite directions, he pinioned each of the two men who rushed him upon the glittering blades. With a jerk, he pulled them free of the bodies; the two men dropped dead at his feet.
He looked at Elizabeth for a moment longer – it was a look that spoke of love despite his disappointment, that promised that he would protect her and the child she was carrying at any cost. Then he turned and leapt over the railing and into the melee on the deck below.
Elizabeth fell back upon the bed as he disappeared, half-swooning. Too many emotions had gone through her in a small space of time. One hand was still extended after him; she murmured his name weakly. She needed him to come back, needed to explain to him that it was his child…
The outstretched hand faltered as a contraction gripped her again; she panted for breath, gasping at the sensation coursing through her belly. A second wave passed over her soon after…they were becoming more frequent…
A hand gripped hers. She opened the eyes she had closed against the pain and peered blearily at the person beside her. Estrella, her faithful maid, was there looking concernedly down at her. She was ignoring the blood trickling from the wound on her forehead where she the pirate had struck her, and instead stroked Elizabeth's own clammy brow.
"Easy now, Miss," she said soothingly. "Take it easy now; I'm here to help you. Just calm down, breathe deeply for a moment. Then we'll start trying to push."
Will tore across the ship's deck like a whirlwind of blades, cutting a swathe through the chaos. The crew of the respectable merchant vessel were putting up a feeble fight; half the crew had already fallen. Will began to slice through the brigands relentlessly. They turned, surprised by this battle-adept newcomer. A group of them rushed him. He cut two down with one stroke of their mate's cutlass, stabbed another with his own sword, kicked another who hesitated squarely in the chest.
He felt a knife sink into his back and sighed. Ignoring the wound he knew was there, the knife remaining embedded in his flesh, he continued to fight off the ones in front of him. Some of them had seen the knife go in and saw it as their chance to finish this upstart off; yet pirate after pirate only succeeded in throwing himself forward onto Will's waiting swords, whilst he himself did not weaken, not even falter, in the slightest.
He only turned when he heard a pistol being cocked behind him. As soon as he whirled around, a ball caught him fair in the chest. It knocked him back a step; then he recovered. He continued to bear down upon the now-trembling man.
The pirate fired shot after shot into him in desperation. His hand was so tremulous, he could no longer aim. Some bullets just barely clipped Will's coat sleeve, another went through his shoulder; one even went straight through his forehead, knocking his bandanna askew. He whipped it off, his hand momentarily obscuring his forehead; by the time it was removed, the wound was gone.
The man was a gibbering heap by now. He had seen his dagger slide into Will's back with no effect, and he had run out of bullets. He fell to his knees, the pistol dropping from his hands, which were raised in supplication. His voice failed him; he managed only an urgent rasp.
Will relentlessly cut the pleading man down. He wasn't in a merciful mood.
The whole time he fought, his mind was centred on the cabin in the upper berth. A child…she was having a child…why hadn't he known? Whose was it? Why had she deceived him? She had written to him a dozen times already, but not a single mention…why the concealment? Was the babe another's…?
His mind tried to calculate as he distractedly swung his blade at the charging pirates, oblivious to the various wounds they were dealing him before he slew them. The birth…so it would have to have been nine months previous…not while he had still been alive, surely, unless the birth was late? But after he had left…would he have been gone for sufficient time? It seemed like years since he had last seen her…but actually it had been…only…it must be less than a year? Nine, ten months?
Nine months ago…they had…that last time…
He stopped dead. The thought stunned him, stopped him like no violent attacks from pirates could. He ignored the knives which took advantage of his inaction, plunging into his back whilst his own blade remained unresponsive. His mind worked numbly, frenzily, around this new idea…
Was it possible…?
With a yell, a whole horde of pirates ran at him like madmen, bellowing like wounded bulls and with either glinting cutlasses or smoking pistols held high. Before they could fall upon him, another lithe figure darted before them from the port side of the ship, slicing through three men in a single powerful stroke. Galvanized by this unexpected action, Will finished the rest of the horde off, examining his mysterious helper.
That sword – broad like a cutlass, but of a completely different design, the blacksmith's mind ran. He had seen blades like that before, not so long ago…memories of being pursued by similarly-armed guards through a Buddhist temple came back to him…
Behind the newcomer Will could see a trail of pirate corpses, leading clearly towards the stern, where the upper berths were situated… Dark, narrow eyes regarded him quietly; the man gave him a curt nod of respect and recognition.
An Oriental? Will recognized the man…he had been The Empress' first mate, Sao Feng's first mate…but Feng was dead, and the current Pirate Lord of the South China Seas was-
Understanding dawned in Will's eyes; the other saw it. An unspoken alliance was formed between the two's solemn glances. They began to fight side by side, encircled by bloodthirsty pirates. Both were fighting to protect the same woman, who held a different significance for each of them.
The pirates' numbers were dwindling. During a lapse in the fighting, Will turned his back to the other man and asked "Would you mind?"
The man grimaced as he saw that the back of Will's coat was studded with at least half a dozen knives. He dutifully removed them, scowling and muttering to himself in amazement as he drew each one out. He stood now with two hands full of knives, wondering what to do with them.
His dilemma was solved by two pirates who rushed at him, swords drawn. Still more than ten paces from him, they each received a fistful of thrown daggers and toppled over backwards, dead.
Will had turned to watch. "Not bad," he said with a grin. As he was thus distracted, a pirate lunged upon him. Both Will and his attacker stabbed each other simultaneously; the pirate fell, and Will, without having even looked at him once, calmly pulled his opponent's sword from his abdomen.
His fighting partner winced. "Not bad at all," he declared in slightly stumbling English.
The pirates were well and truly defeated by the two men. The last surviving stragglers were retreating, leaping onto their own ship, which was drawn up beside the trader. As she dropped the lines that moored her to her prey and began to withdraw, Will sprinted across the deck and was about to jump the rail, pursuing the fleeing brigands, when a sound arrested him. With one foot upon the rail, his eyes still following the ship's retreat, the wail of a newborn babe reached his ears.
Will stopped, turning slowly to face the upper deck. Leaving the Oriental sailor, throwing down his swords and stepping obliviously over the bodies littering the deck, he raced up the stairs to the upper berth and stopped in the cabin doorway.
Estrella turned, startled, as a dark silhouette appeared in the cabin door, then relaxed as she recognized Will Turner.
"A boy," she informed him. "A healthy baby boy." She withdrew a bit to the other side of the cabin, leaving the family some privacy.
Elizabeth was reclining on the bed, her eyes half-closed. Her whole body was limp with exhaustion, her hair matted with sweat, still breathing somewhat more heavily from the exertion. In her arms was nestled a tiny pink-faced babe wrapped in a sheet, his lusty cries shrill in the cabin's confines. As Will watched, awe plainly written upon his face and his tentative attitude a distinct contrast to his previously battle-zealous manner, she gently nuzzled the infant's downy head, holding him close to her breast. Comforted instinctively by her presence, the child quietened. Amongst all the strange things Will had seen during the last few years, this was surely the most remarkable occurrence he had ever witnessed.
"Will," she whispered; thinking she summoned him, he took a step towards the bed, then stopped as she began to speak again. "William Turner. Named after his father."
Will thought he was going to swoon; such an elation and giddy happiness filled him he thought he might burst with it. In one quick movement he crossed the distance from the door to the bed and dropped heavily to his knees beside her. She opened her eyes, saw him, and smiled such a smile as made him feel weak.
"Elizabeth," he murmured, his voice as faint as he felt, not knowing what else to say.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I wanted to tell you, to write it to you, but how could I write of such a thing with you away, unable to see him? How could I do that to you? I thought, if you didn't know he was waiting, the ten years might be easier…I'm sorry, it must have been a shock, you must have suspected when I didn't tell you…but how could I tell you such a thing in a letter? How could I share him with you, you being so far away? You came back just when I needed you. I can tell you right now to your face, William Turner, and I tell you absolutely true. He's yours, Will; he's your son."
"My son," Will fairly breathed the words, trying to get used to the sound of the words. His son. Elizabeth's son…and his son…
Slowly, shakily, he extended a hand, masterful moments ago, now seemingly afflicted with a nervous palsy, towards the drowsing babe. Tenderly, with the gentlest of touches, he caressed the infant's head. Young Will murmured in his sleep, shifting slightly beneath his touch. Will gasped in delighted amazement, a giddy laugh escaping his lips. It did them both wonders, to hear his laughter ringing unrestrained in that small cabin. Neither could remember the last time they had laughed, the last time they had felt such wild join within their breasts…perhaps during their engagement, when they had been young, reckless and carefree…for even their last meeting, when they had owned the other as husband and wife, and held the other tenderly in their arms, their union had been saddened by their impending separation…
It was quite a sight to see the dark, brooding man, in a pirate's rough garb, kneeling beside his love's bed, their son there in their arms. Both Will's and Elizabeth's hands supported him and he slept in their grasp. Will locked eyes with her; leaning in carefully over the sleeping child so that she needn't rise and disturb it, he brought his lips to hers.
Their kiss was soft, yet fiercely passionate; she opened her mouth, wanting to savour having him so close to her after all this time, these fearful months without him. He acquiesced for a minute or two, his other hand clasping her shoulder so that he cradled both mother and son in his arms. Then he broke the contact between them, looking deeply, sadly into her eyes. The exuberant new father was gone; sadness haunted his gaze.
"The sun sets," he said, his tone dejected. "I need to go."
He disengaged them from his arms and made to rise; she clutched at his sleeve with her last reserves of energy.
"Stay," she pleaded, a teary note in her voice. "Stay with me, and him. We'll find a ship all our own; you need never set foot on land. Defy the Locker. We could be a family that way, on the ocean. I need you; he needs you."
He exhaled sharply, the words on his tongue nearly tearing his resolve to pieces as he looked at the two beautiful faces before him.
"I can't. If I deny the curse, I won't be fit to be your husband; your son will have a monster for a father, as bad, if not worse, than the previous captain of the Dutchman. I can't turn my back on my duty, as much as it pains me to feel I'm turning my back on you, on him. I have to repay the sacrifice I made to have that one day, to remain alive in this world; to repay the undoing of my death. This way I can return to you, if only for a day, rather than being dead to you for an eternity, or else turned into a form not fit for you to see." He stroked her hair affectionately, almost fretfully. "How I regret the day I ever crossed lives with you, Elizabeth, that I ever made my love known to you. I could have saved you the suffering."
She rose determinedly from the pillow at that, catching his hand in hers before he could pull away and bringing it to her cheek. He felt the tears welling there beneath his fingers.
"Then I would never have had you, or had our child," she whispered, staring into his face as though she were trying to memorise every feature, every line she saw there. "I feel blessed for every moment I have known with you, Will Turner; every joyful moment we shared has been the greatest joy of my life. I will endure anything for those brief moments; I'll wait however long I have to wait, so long as you come back to me."
"I'll come back," he replied, drawing so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. "Even if I have to fight my way through hell to do it, I'll come back to you, on that day. I wouldn't dare miss it for anything."
He kissed her again, a slow, lingering kiss, as though they were making it last in order to provision themselves for the next nine years with that kiss alone. Then at last he broke away and strode out of the cabin.
He reclaimed his sword from where he had dropped it upon the deck. The ship's captain watched his actions fearfully, crossing himself in an intense fit of superstitious fear. Will turned to face him; he and the remaining crew members flinched, as though they expected him to savage them as he had their own attackers.
"The woman and her son," he said, his voice commanding; the men recoiled as though it lashed them. "Put them down safely in Bristol." Will did not want Elizabeth and the infant thrown overboard because of his actions; he knew the superstitious minds of sailors. His dark glare threatened worse than was done to the pirates upon these men if they should so much as get such thoughts in their heads.
"O-o-of c-c-c-course," the petrified captain managed to stutter, knock-kneed with terror, the other crew members cowering behind him.
Will turned to the Pirate Lord's mate. The man was sifting idly through the remains of the brigands, poking through their garments with his broadsword, looking for items of interest. He seemed slightly bored now that the fighting was over.
"Look after them for me."
Will felt horrible, asking another man to protect his family; as though he were failing them himself. The man merely nodded with the seriousness and reservedness he always exhibited.
"Of course. She is my captain and my king."
With a satisfied nod, leaving the ship's crew now in frightened awe of the enforcer of his wishes, Will returned to the cabin.
"I'll protect it better in future."
Will paused in the broken window, his former point of entry, as Elizabeth addressed him one last time. The sea chest was near him; it had been the source of the conflict, yet had been forgotten until now.
"I should have done better than that. Next time, I'll be ready. I'll never leave it, it will always be with me. I'll protect it with my life. You won't ever need to worry for it again."
"I never will for a second," he declared, his voice clearly in earnest. "I am sorry you must bear a part of me as your burden. You are my true heart; it is you I worry for, and him. Take care of yourself and him for me; I know you'll raise him to be as good and brave, as lovable and beautiful as you."
Her tears spilled their banks as he said these words to her. His eyes were also bedewed as he devoured her with his gaze, taking sustenance from her appearance now for the long years ahead.
"I love you."
"And I love you."
With one last wistful look, he stepped through the shattered window.
A moment later she could see the Dutchman sailing away towards the horizon. She did not know how he had boarded her so swiftly, but she knew he was there, being taken away from her. The ship flew at an impossible speed towards the sunset, as though she were racing the sun, and winning. Then, as the sun eclipsed her upon the horizon, there was a great flash in the sky, staining the clouds an eerie colour; like a thunderclap it was gone, and gone with it was the ship, and her love upon it.
She lay there staring after it, feeling suddenly desolate, as though something had been stolen from her. She continued to stare out the window with a lost expression, until a subdued squawk made her turn.
The albatross. It was perched cautiously on the bed, just within arm's length of her, as though it didn't wish to disturb her and the sleeping son in her arms. In its mouth it held a scrap of dry paper. Swoop hadn't followed his master down.
Elizabeth took the paper. She instantly knew his handwriting.
If ever you are in danger upon the ocean again, send word to me
through Swoop, and I'll be there to protect you again. Take care,
and love my son for me in my absence. My heart, my love, my
thoughts of every waking moment, are with you always. You
and he will make my curse easier to bear.
My love always,
Will
Elizabeth's vision of this message blurred behind her tears. She tried to restrain herself, but the silent sobs raked her fatigued body. As her breast quivered with her sobs, it roused the babe sleeping nestled against her chest, and he began to wail fretfully, as though in sympathy with her and in awareness of his own loss.
