Chapter 9: The Master of the Seas
Disclaimer: still the same as chapter 1
Author's notes:
- To Smithy: if I've watched the Oscars Night? You bet I did! French actress Marion Cotillard won the statuette for her performance in "La vie en rose"!
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"Maccus and about a dozen of deformed sailors pulled the canon from the seabed" said Bootstrap Bill, "while stomping down the tube worms that had grown around it, raising a cloud of sand and debris in the process that completely blinded me for a minute; then, they tried to cut my bounds but even their inhuman strength wasn't enough to break the rust-covered chains. I was completely desperate, Will. I thought I had finally died and that the Devil had sent a few demons to pick up my soul, but I couldn't oppose any kind of resistance. Finally, Maccus got tired with the chains so he gestured to his accomplices to grab the canon, lifted it on their shoulders as if it were a coffin, and we headed for the surface. But after spending years in the abyss, my body got somehow used to the immense pressures of the ocean depths and the sudden decrease was unbearable. My sufferings increased tenfold and I tried to signal to these… these creatures to stop, to give me a moment and let me adapt to this change, but they wouldn't take any notice of my struggling – apparently, they were in a hurry to accomplish their mission. Oh, the pain… It felt like my bones were crushed into tiny little pieces. After Barbossa had sentenced me to an eternity of torment at the bottom of the sea I'd never have imagined I could suffer more, but I was wrong."
Will remembered his years at Port Royal, overhearing the tales about free-divers who descended to depths of over a hundred feet on a single breath to find pearls: along with the dangers of hostile sea creatures, wild currents and drowning, more than once those gem-hunters had become deaf, or even died from deep water blackout after diving for too long or resurfacing too quickly!
"I remember a brief glimpse of clearer waters and the realization that we were reaching the surface just before passing out; when I woke up…"
(Flashback)
Bill Turner's eyes snapped open and he found out he was in a seaman's Hell: creatures in a various state of transformation were looming above him, their bodies a mix of man and fish features. The terrible sight made Bill's blood turn into ice in his veins but when he opened his mouth to scream, only a gurgle and a splash of salted water passed through his lips. He weakly tried to move, but his arms and legs were immobilized and he realized that he was still tied to the canon. Obviously, the creatures which had "kidnapped" him from the seabed hadn't bothered to remove his chains; they were too busy staring at him, giggling and talking wildly between each others, dying of curiosity about this drowned-but-still-alive man.
Bill was dripping wet and all he could do nothing but inhaling air and spitting out water, drawing his first free breaths despite the intense pain running through his body. All of a sudden a loud, regular thumping sound resonated: the monsters' chattering ended abruptly and the crowd made room for the most horrible sight ever witnessed by Bill's eyes: a half-man, half-sea beast stepped toward the survivor, with octopus-like tentacles in place of a beard on its face and wearing a barnacle-incrusted hat with peaks that resembled of devil horns on its head. The creature took out a lightened whalebone-carved pipe from the corner of its mouth to ask in a nasal voice:
"So, this is the distressed soul who had asked for a chance to escape its fate, according to its pleas? Now, this is intriguing!"
"Whissat, Captain?" asked Maccus.
"Because, my oblivious First mate, this soul belongs to a man who, as you can see, is neither dead nor dying. That's strange, from someone who had been tied to a canon to sink, and yet had managed to stay alive, don't you think? And he had stayed in the depths for a long time, according to the number of clams encrusting the said canon. I must say, I'm surprised!"
The monster casually laid a lobster claw in guise of his left hand on Bill's arm, patting it with condescension.
"What do you say, friend? Care to explain?" asked the horrid-looking Captain with an amiable voice, while his eyes were as inexpressive as a snake's.
Bill's tall frame was shaking in pain and terror; he tried to speak but his lips just couldn't move and he felt like he was going to loose consciousness any time. His eyes weren't focusing and he didn't know if he should enjoy not seeing clearly the tentacle-bearded hideous creature or frightened because he wouldn't know what was going to happen next. Through the ringing of his ears, Bill heard the Captain bellowing the word "Rum" and minutes afterwards, the alcohol got forcefully poured into his mouth. Its violent taste made the elder Turner cough and gasp, cutting his breathing for a while. But some of the rum managed to fell down his throat and blessed warmth exploded in his stomach, a sensation he hadn't felt since the day Barbossa had him thrown overboard the Black Pearl
"You feel better, friend?" asked the monster in a mockery of a polite tone. "Now, will you deign answer my questions or do I have to drown you in a barrel of rum to get an answer?"
The other creatures snickered loudly, a horrible sound that could be compared to a thousand of crab claws scratching against an iron slab. The octopus-looking commander asked again, but this time with a steel-like voice:
"Why is it you haven't died?"
Bill Turner was indeed in a sad shape, and yet he knew his fate would be decided according to his cooperation and the promptness of his answers, so he managed to whisper:
"Cursed…"
That single word made the Captain's ice-cold blue eyes widen in surprise, and then he roared hysterically:
"Cursed??! Did you hear that, men? This man is cursed, so he cannot die!"
The unimaginably disfigured "men" exploded in laughter at the tale of Bill's condition, as if they had been told the greatest joke of their damned lives. After a long time, the laughs quieted down – ordered by a movement of the Captain's lobster claw – and then Maccus asked Bill:
"And how it is ye are cursed, mate?"
This time, the answer was so weak the hammerhead shark-lookalike had to lean over the tied-up man to catch his words. Maccus then turned to his Captain with a perplexed expression on his deformed face.
"So? What did he say, Mister Maccus?"
"I don' understan' this, Captain: he mumbled sumthing about the moonlight!"
That answer made the commander and its crew turn their stares towards the sky, and Bill suddenly realized that he had been brought on the deck of a ship which looked like it had sank at the bottom of the ocean a century ago. Under the feeble lightning provided by dirty lanterns, he could see the ship's planks were heavily encrusted with aquatic fauna, the sails hanging from the masts had been torn into shreds and there was a strong odour of decomposition floating around. But since he could breathe again, he must have resurfaced, so where on Earth was he?
At the same moment, the clouds covering the jet-black sky opened under the influence of a gentle breeze and the brilliant disk of the full moon appeared in a glow of pure silver light. Bill had barely the time to be grateful for this glorious sight before the Aztec Gold curse struck him. The flesh disappeared from his bones in a flash, the chains slipped from his limbs and fell down on the deck with a loud metallic clang, making the monstrous crew turn back and look at him.
The deformed mariners jumped in fright at this unbelievable sight, including their Captain: an instant before there was a man tied up to a canon, and the next thing they knew it was a living skeleton dressed in rags who was lying on the gun's barrel! That apparition was pretty scary, even for those who were serving under the mast of the most terrible ghost ship that had ever sailed in the Caribbean! Loud gasps of surprise rang out and even the leader seemed shaken by Bill's mysterious transformation. The elder Turner wasn't in shape to appreciate the irony of his situation: he was freed of his chains at last, thanks to the curse which had caused his torture in the first place! But he was too tired to move, to try to flee the wrecked ship he had been brought to: his sufferings were tying him up more securely than Barbossa's chains ever did.
The breeze blown through the ocean and made the clouds slid in the nocturnal sky, obscuring the moon again; right under the monstrous sailors' eyes, Bill regained his human form. The horrible crewmembers were looking at each other in disbelief, shaking their heads or muttering while looking in awe at the strange sailor they had pulled from his watery grave. But the Captain's eyes were narrowed and his mouth was torn in a grimace, and Bill wondered why the monster seemed crossed by this display of Aztecan gods' power upon his ship.
"So there is a curse. That's interesting! But apart from this wonderful ability to lay out your bare bones under the moonlight, I fail to see any interest in keeping you onboard, sailor. Bo'sun!"
"Aye, Cap'tain?" answered a voice among the crowd.
"Tie that man up again and send him back to the ocean!" barked the commander just before turning his back to the rescued man.
Those terrible words pierced the fog impairing Bill's senses, and he found within him the strength to yell in horror:
"NO! PLEASE, NO!"
"No?" said the Captain while walking back to Bill with a dangerous gleam shining in his eyes. "It seems I've had heard you correctly, then? You are willing to trade anything, including your soul, for the tiniest chance to escape your cursed fate. In that case, Mister, I offer you a choice: a hundred years of service before the mast, or you return to the depths. Will you serve?"
Bill's dizziness was overcoming him. Too many events had happened and his suffering from being pulled too quickly from the depths was increasing; sharps jolts of pain running through his body, he couldn't think, couldn't concentrate, and the vertigo would have made him vomit if his stomach had been full. He could only silently beg for help, praying that the monsters surrounding him were just mere hallucinations…
The image of a little boy with dark hair, brown eyes and a handsome face suddenly flashed in front of his eyes; the lad's crystal-clear laughter rang out loud as he held up his arms towards his father. That vision felt like an arrow of tenderness burying itself right into Bill's heart, and he blurted out:
"Will…"
"You will serve? Very good! Your soul is mine! Another sailor for the Flying Dutchman! And it seems you'll remain among us for a very long time… since you cannot die. Welcome aboard!"
The monsters roared in laughter once again, shattering the rescued man's vision into a million pieces, and it finished him.
Exhausted, overwhelmed with pain, Bill fainted.
(End flashback)
"I woke up two days later. Old Wyvern had been taking care of me – he hadn't melted with the beams at the time, he was officially the Dutchman's cook even if the damned shipmates hadn't eaten his stew in years – by dressing my wounds, feeding me some broth and he had even improvised a sleeping pallet for me to lie on in the cooking galley. Wyvern was feeling so sorry for my fate, like every time a new and terrorized sailor had sworn an oath to Davy Jones, and he was an exception since compassion was an unknown emotion aboard the Flying Dutchman! He explained that Jones' choice was just to swindle sailors, in truth it was like trading a misery for another: the oath simply offered oblivion, made you forget who you were, bit by bit, and all the wrongs that had happened to you. However, the wrongs you've done in your life remain to haunt you, day and night. And when rum or violence wouldn't provide the men a reprieve from their remorse… they'd become an integral part of the ship. That's what happened to Wyvern – do you remember when I took you to see him?"
"I was horrified by these revelations and for a short, panic-stricken moment, I've considered going to Jones to tell him I haven't sworn the oath willingly, but Wyvern brought me back to my senses: what would have been the use? The Captain wasn't the kind to be preoccupied by those details, and besides I was still under the Aztec Gold curse. Davy Jones could still have me chained to the canon and sent me back to the depths if I protested, and I couldn't start to imagine enduring that torture again. I tried to persuade myself that serving that monster was better than being crushed alive under the ocean's weight, but little did I know it would turn out to be much worse. Jones' cruelty knew no bounds and I've lost count of the ships we've attacked, the lives who were lost, and the doomed seamen who were later blackmailed into enslavement. As usual, I acted discreetly, worked hard and kept quiet. But in spite of all my efforts, something singled me out from the rest of the crew."
"Your God-given eyes?" asked Will.
Bill raised his head at those words, looking so astonished the young Turner had a hard time to repress a chuckle. Then Bill gently cupped Will's face with the palm of his hand, saying:
"That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, Will."
"And you deserve it Papa, a thousand times and more."
"Oh, my darling…" Bootstrap Bill swallowed hard before pursuing his story. "I wish it had been the cause of my difference, because I would have taken consolation in that thought. But what really took me apart from the other shipmates was… the fact that the Aztec Gold curse had an advantage."
"I don't understand, Papa."
"Shortly after my "enlistment", barnacles started to appear on my body and of course, I tried to pull them out but to no avail. Wyvern told me it was a waste of time; that it was the first effect of Jones' oath and soon, there would be no way for me to avoid the metamorphosis of my body. I would turn into a jellyfish-freak, a shark, or even a whale, just like the other ones! But one night, while I was on watch, I stepped into the moonlight without thinking and… the Aztec curse fell upon me again. The invading barnacles fell on the deck instantly, since those crustaceans couldn't maintain their hold on me with the disappearance of my flesh! That curse was interfering with the consequences of Jones' oath! That gave me a bit of hope during the following years: every time the barnacles, starfishes or corral sprouts would become too invasive on my body, I just walked under the moon's glow and the Aztec curse would "cure" me from those undesirables and I would look human again. Jones was furious, but what could he do? For all his so-called power, he couldn't do anything to stop the moon from illuminating the sky, or the cursed gold from revealing my skeleton. Once, he tried to forbid me from to be on deck at nights, but I've always found a way to slip outside just for a minute to get my "moon treatment" against his tyranny."
"That's why you remained more human than sea creature, even after years of service!" exclaimed Will. "When we were reunited on the Flying Dutchman, I thought it curious you were the only one who still looked like a man while the others were transformed beyond recognition, but I was also very grateful for that tiny miracle."
"Wyvern told me to not push my luck, but every time I got rid of the sea critters, my appearance would remind the other shipmates that there were other things in life than Jones and his orders. Besides, the Captain couldn't blame anyone but himself for my presence aboard, he's the one who had thought it hilarious to have a twice-cursed man amongst his crew. But Jones' hold on my soul remained strong and, as the years flew by, I've started to forget why and how my skeleton appeared at nights, only that the barnacles would fell on the deck from time to time. And then… about eighteen months ago, the "moon treatment" stopped working."
"That's around the time Jack, Elizabeth and I ended the Aztec Gold curse by placing the medallion in the Chest of Cortez, sprinkled with a few drops of my blood!" said Will.
"It's the only logical explanation," said Bill while looking at the scar crossing Will's left palm. "The creatures came back on my body with a vengeance, and Jones would laugh at me every time I walked by. The auto-proclaimed Master of the Seas hated any kind of competition with a passion! I can still remember his words: "One curse down, one more to go, Mister Turner!" But I was beyond caring about his jealousy. I became nothing more but another crustacean-crusted submissive slave, slowly loosing his memories and his mind, and who would become an integral part of the ship. Jones finally got reassured enough to send me as an emissary, to remind Jack about the deal he had made with Jones in order to raise the Black Pearl from the depths. You know the rest of the story," concluded the elder Turner.
Will sighed and then he silently sought after his father's embrace, which was given immediately. Bill kept the young man's head close to his chest, understanding Will needed to hear his heartbeat again after this night of confession that had started with a simple question. There had been laughter, tears, guilt, hugs, shame, healing words and in the end, the long ordeal of Bootstrap Bill had finally been told. After a lifetime of adventures, hardships and curses, the former pirate now considered himself being a hundred times blessed since the day he had been allowed to remain at his son's side to protect him. That was the only thing Bill's heart desired.
And the said organ was thumping inside the elder Turner's chest; its vibrations could be felt by both men and this beat was a hymn celebrating courage, reconciliation and the promise of a better future, powered by the shared knowledge that in a few years, faithfulness would lift Davy Jones' malediction once and for all.
In the meantime, the sound of Bill's life had become, for Will, the song of his father's steadfast support, giving him so much love, hope and strength to help him through his own ordeal.
One heart, two souls.
TBC…
