Midshipman Gladpoole used the tattered remains of his sleeve to wipe the sweat pouring from his forehead. The hold was cramped and dark, and only by edging to the bamboo screen that connected to the upper decks of the junk could he see anything. The air was foul around him, and someone, squatting and hidden in the shadows, coughed.

He rubbed his close-shaved head, his pale ginger-colored hair prickly to the touch. He winced in pain, rubbing the dried blood from the wound near his ear. What was that? he wondered., How far back could he remember? Well, there had been the fire fight aboard the Eagle, these blasted Chinese pirates had raked the ship, reduced it to scubbers and no more, and he'd felt a musketball brush past his ear.

Here he was: midshipman of a ship of the line, on the way to taking the test for lieutenant, and now reduced to crawling on his knees—stockings torn, knees chafed, wig lost—in God knew what ship. And that stench! "I say there," he ventured in a weak voice that nevertheless commanded a slight respect as was due a future lieutenant. "Do any of you speak English? Eng-lish," he repeated, pouting his puckered, chapped lips.

He was met by a rough, ungainly shove from a hand wrapped in bandages. Some language he could not comprehend—something like that heathen Chinese, but a different tongue—issued from his companion's mouth, harsh words that could easily be a curse. With the words came spittle that landed on Gladpoole's upturned nose. He crawled on, gaining more shoves and kicks for his trouble. Next he found himself trotting over a soft, warm piece of flesh—

"Blast it!" he snapped, barely avoiding crushing a shrieking rat under the heel of his boot. He was violently tossed aside by another Chinese prisoner who grabbed the squirming rat by its fleshy tail and commenced slamming it against the hull. The squeaking set Gladpoole's teeth on edge, and he hurried on.

In the bare light, he saw the remains of the clipped moustachio and beard of an officer of the Royal Spanish Navy on the sallow face of a gentleman whose eyes were closed. "English, señor?" he asked. "Ingles, eh?" He received no response, and for a moment, coldness stole into his heart. The man was dead. Gladpoole gulped. No—he would not die aboard this rat-infested hole!

At last he saw the silhouette of a linen shirt, a brown leather shoe with worn toe, buckle of tarnished brass. "You there," Gladpoole murmured, wiping his brow and upper lip. "Do you speak English?"

The shadow had the voice of a young man. "Yes. I speak English."

"Oh, blessed be the Lord," Gladpoole murmured with a reverence toward Heaven—wherever Heaven was from this stink-hole. He couldn't help effusively grabbing for the hand of his companion, so great was his joy, and found them both bound. He shrunk back, suspicious. "Who are you?"

"My name is William Turner."

Gladpoole peered at the shadow of the man, thought he could make out the strings of brown hair clinging to a youthful face with vestiges of a moustache and beard. "Why are you bound?"

"I tried to escape," said Will Turner simply.

"Ah, yes," Gladpoole murmured, thinking secretly that this boy, whoever he was, might prove a valuable ally. "My name is Peter Gladpoole. I was a midshipman on His Majesty's Eagle."

"I was crossing to England, from Port Royal."

"Are you a military man, Mr. Turner?"

There was a hint of humor in his voice. "No, a simple blacksmith, I'm afraid."

A loud commotion of stamping feet and shouts in the cant of Chinese pirates startled Gladpoole. He and Will Turner watched suspiciously as a new prisoner tumbled in their ranks. A shrill but imperious female voice ranted harshly above them.

"That woman again!" Gladpoole snarled, clapping his hands over his ears. "What is a woman doing amongst this lot anyway?"

"I believe she's the captain of this vessel," said Will Turner, edging into the light and revealing him for a hale lad of twenty-two.

"Don't be absurd," snorted Gladpoole; "whoever heard of a woman pirate?"

Will Turner seemed to smile. Another high, female voice was heard. "I think that's her daughter," he said, gazing up at a faint face the color of almonds with two dark eyes lined like ink.

Gladpoole stumbled, and the contents of his pockets spilled to the dirt beside Will Turner. He quickly retrieved his effects. His pudgy arm was seized in a pinching grip: startled, he looked up at Will Turner. "Where did you get this?" The boy's face was black and coarse. He shook Gladpoole hard. "Where did you get this!"

Gladpoole shook him off and stared at the small gold coin in his hand, a strange skull shape imprinted on it. He smiled faintly. "Steady on! Got it from a fellow in Macao." He stared at the other young man. "Now that I come to think of it, he looked rather like you. In fact, a lot like you." Will Turner released Gladpoole with a jerk. "Peculiar name, he had. I believe he was called . . . Bootstrap."

Author's Note.

Thank you for reading all the way through this story. Those who have left reviews, I will reply to you personally.

If this epilogue seems to bring no closure whatsoever, be heartened: there was supposed to be an entire sequel to BMTH. I just haven't gotten around to it, as it would be infernally complex and honestly, I'm not sure how much tension I can wring out of the Jack/Elizabeth relationship once they sleep together. Maybe once Pirates of the Caribbean 2 comes out next year I'll be able to finish it.

Thanks again and, adieu.

Acknowledgements

I am deeply indebted to the authors whose books helped me with the historical portion of Bring Me That Horizon.

David Cordingly (Under the Black Flag: The Romance and the Reality of Life Among the Pirates)

Richard B. Schwartz (Daily Life in Johnson's England)

Kristin Olsen (Daily Life in 18th Century England)

C. Willett & Phillis Cunningham (Handbook of English Costume in the 18th Century)

Iris Brooke (Dress and Undress: The Restoration and the 18th Century)

Anne Buck (Dress in 18th Century England)

Ulrike Klausmann et al (Women Pirates and the Politics of the Jolly Roger)

Robert J. Antony (Like Froth Floating on the Sea: The World of Pirates and Seafarers in Late Imperial South China)

A big thank you to Jamie for posting BMTH. Also, to everyone who wrote to me with words of encouragement: thank you! I could not have written the story without your support. And thanks, of course, to Ted & Terry for creating Jack and Elizabeth, and to Johnny and Keira for playing them so beautifully! J + E♥!