Disclaimer: the same as chapter 1
Author's notes:
- To Sonjadore: thank you very much for your kind words! :0)
- Reminder: "Serçe" means "sparrow" in Turkish.
- Details about binnacles come from Wikipedia.
- The name of "John Silver" is a reference to the novel "Treasure Island" by Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894)
Chapter 10: Heartaches
Aboard the Seref, still silent and invisible in the night, Ammand was looking through his spyglass at the Conqueror, still sailing at low speed on the calm dark waters. The Pirate Lord of the Black Sea had half-expected a riot to occur on the enemy ship as soon as Captain Jack Sparrow would have stepped foot on it, but amazingly it hadn't happened! The Conqueror was quiet like a tomb, which could only mean two things: either Sparrow had been captured in a blink of an eye, either he had been successful in his spying mission.
Ammand collapsed the spyglass and shook his head: who would have thought that he, Captain Ammand the corsair, would team up with "dinghy-commander" Jack Sparrow to finally get his revenge against Red Hand Pete? It had been so many years since that bad business in Istambul that Ammand had almost lost all hope to make Pete pay his blood debt. And then, out of the blue, the world's best silver-talking pirate had offered him enough money to settle his accounts with his worst enemy, for the price of a ride for him and his associate!
"Sabreden derviş muradina ermiş (all things come to those who wait)", said Ammand out loud, quoting Jack's earlier words.
Patience had finally been fruitful, and the Turkish corsair couldn't complain about his deal with Sparrow: he had been handsomely paid for his services and that crazy-working compass had led them right to the Conqueror, meaning it wasn't a complete piece of junk after all. Even if the impromptu arrival of Barbossa's former men had made Ammand grumble for a while, the six sailors had quickly obeyed Master Bootstrap's orders and had retired for the night at the lower deck, as discreetly as possible.
The corsair wasn't naïve enough to imagine Jack had been completely straight-forward about his reasons to pursuit the Conqueror. He knew the former captain of the Black Pearl wasn't prone to vengeance or violent conflicts, so Ammand had to admit Jack had been telling the truth about his kidnapped friend. That kind of cowardly action was just like this fiendish Red Hand Pete! But Jack was also broke, and no pirate worth his salt would miss an occasion to get his hands on some kind of booty to have his ship repaired and glamorize his reputation. Did Jack expected some kind of reward in rescuing Pete's prisoner? Maybe Bootstrap Bill had promised him a share of his diamonds, as well.
Ammand focused his attention on the tall, broad-shouldered man who was leaning on the galley's rail, watching intensively the brig. Master Bootstrap… now, this man was a complete mystery. He had already given him two magnificent diamonds: one for the trip, on condition to leave anchor at once; one for accepting the six rogues expelled by Barbossa, in order to not waste time in their search for Red Hand Pete. Of course the Laws of the Sea were adamant about that point: all man found in the water had to be fished out; otherwise it would bring terrible bad luck and sailors were a very superstitious lot. But Ammand couldn't help but think that Master Bootstrap must had a good reason to spend his fortune in hiring a pirate ship, and then paying for the passage of six ragged scoundrels… a very good reason.
And that strange name, "Bootstrap Bill"… Ammand knew by experience that "Bill" was a nickname for "William", but what do bootstraps had to do with this man? Did he pride his footwear so much he mentioned it every time he presented himself?
The Pirate Lord came closer to his guest; the elder Turner was lost in his thoughts again and Ammand looked attentively at the big man's features. It was weathered and tired, with a faded scar running from his left temple to disappear under his jaw – "Probably due to a sword's blade", thought the corsair – and his long gray hair was falling in disarray from his bandana. At first glance, Master Bootstrap resembled more to an unkempt, worn-out sailor than a pirate getting ready for action. Except for the eyes… those remarkable clear blue eyes, which constantly changed: they could shine from a burning fire within, or become dull as if an emotion was clouding them. But was it anger, impatience, or worry?
Well it could be all of them, but Ammand sensed that something tragic was also troubling Master Bootstrap. And the corsair's nagging feeling about the big man came back, stronger than before: he was now sure he had seen him in the past, or at least in someone who bore a great likeness to this man. However, Ammand didn't feel any kind of danger coming from Bootstrap Bill so he decided to engage in conversation with him.
"A guinea for your thoughts, Master Bootstrap?" said the Turkish Pirate Lord.
"What? Oh, begging your pardon, Captain Ammand! I haven't heard you coming… again. I'm sorry!"
"No apologies necessary, Master Bootstrap; I'd have a lot of my mind, too, if I've trusted Captain "Serçe" to climb aboard an enemy ship to find information about Red Hand Pete!"
"Jack wouldn't betray us, I'm sure of this! You can count on him," said immediately Bill Turner, and Ammand had a small smile at this display of trust.
"I don't doubt Sparrow's loyalty to us for the moment," said Ammand. "After all, he seems to have taken an interest in finding Pete's prisoner, as well as in your gems! I'm more worried about his ability to sneak around the Conqueror without raising his usual ruckus, since I'd hate to have to fight Red Hand Pete at night: that snake could disappear in the darkness and we'd waste more time."
Bill shook his head: "Jack can be circumspect when needed, and he wouldn't compromise his safety or his plans. He had gotten out of situations which were much worse than this one. I'm sure he'll be back soon."
Ammand let the matter drop for the moment, but he had gained an important piece of information: Master Bootstrap and Jack Sparrow had known each other for a long time, and the burly-shaped man trusted the bird-named captain unconditionally. That was kind of surprising, since Sparrow had been overthrown twice from his command by his own crewmembers!
"Master Bootstrap?"
"Aye, Captain?"
"What did Jack tell you, about that double-crosser Red Hand Pete did in Istanbul?"
Bill looked embarrassed: "Actually, Captain Ammand, Jack told me nothing about it. I've learned about it only when he mentioned this affair in your cabin, before concluding our deal."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" grumbled inwardly the corsair. His gaunt face hardened at the recollection of unpleasant souvenirs, and for a moment Bill thought Captain Ammand would loose control of his nerves and order his First Mate to open fire on the Conqueror at once, regardless of Jack's presence aboard.
"I had planned a raid on a huge vessel full of riches, anchored in Istanbul's harbors. The ship was loaded with gold and silver bars, destined to the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire's treasure, and I had decided to grab the whole booty. In a foolish moment I trusted a rogue, Red Hand Pete, who had gained quite a reputation in the Mediterranean after his successes against Captain Eduardo Villanueva, Pirate Lord of the Adriatic Sea. Since Villanueva and I have crossed blades more than once, I thought it intelligent to associate myself with Pete to steal the riches. He seemed reliable, he knew how to handle his men and he had a good ship: our association turned out to be the biggest mistake of my career!"
"What happened?"
"Red Hand Pete betrayed me to the authorities. The night we invaded the vessel, a whole battalion of Janissaries were waiting for us in the hold, where the treasures were stocked. Gunfire erupted, swords were drawn, and within that exiguous space it soon turned into mass butchery. I was grievously wounded in the fight and I barely escaped with my life by jumping overboard along with Yusuf and two others; the rest of my men hadn't been so lucky. They got killed or, even worse, captured. The Sultan rewarded Red Hand Pete very generously for "warning" him about our planned attack and decided to make an example against piracy with the prisoners. The punishments were… horrible. But that wasn't the worst yet: among the captured men was my first cousin, Sami, a lad of twenty years of age and I couldn't do anything for him, since I was wounded and in hiding. Months afterwards, I've recovered enough to tell my uncle and aunt the news about Sami… They held me responsible for the boy's death and cursed my name," finished the Turkish corsair, his grainy voice barely containing his rage.
"I am so sorry, Captain Ammand!" exclaimed Bill Turner. "I haven't realized the depths of Red Hand Pete's treachery towards you. Please accept my sincere condolences for the death of your cousin."
Ammand blinked at those words: Master Bootstrap was full of surprises! Not only he was a loyal partner to Jack Sparrow, his pockets were full of first-class gems and he had authority like a seasoned First Mate, but on top of everything else, he was compassionate and polite!
"What in the world kind of a pirate are you, Master Bootstrap?" thought the Pirate Lord of the Black Sea. "What events happened for you to bear the same gaze as my uncle, with eyes revealing your pain and melancholy? Is Red Hand Pete also responsible for the loss of one of your loved one? Have you lost… a child?"
But before Ammand could ask another question, Bill Turner suddenly straightened up: "Jack's coming back!"
The corsair couldn't see anything in the ink-like sea and sky, so he took out his telescope and strained it on the Conqueror. After a few adjustments, he could see Sparrow in his dinghy, heading for the galley with a morose expression on his face.
"Whatever "Serçe" has learnt, it cannot be good", thought Ammand, and he worryingly looked at the strong silhouette of Bootstrap Bill.
"I'LL KILL RED HAND PETE! I'LL KILL HIM, I SWEAR!" howled the elder Turner while lashing out at the elaborate decorations inside the Seref's Great Cabin, which flew in every direction.
The three men had locked themselves within the captain's private quarters and Jack had began his report about what he had heard and seen aboard the Conqueror; but as soon as he had learnt about the tortured prisoner, Bootstrap Bill had thrown a fit and the big man was quite impressive in his raging state! Ammand was seriously considering drawing his sword from his scabbard for protection, while Sparrow tried his best to calm down his partner.
"BILL! Will you please listen to me!" pleaded Jack. "I'm telling you, my plan will allow us to deliver him in the next two days from now…"
"TWO DAYS?! That's far too LONG!" yelled Bill at the top of his lungs. "I won't allow those bastards to touch him for another minute! I'm going aboard the Conqueror right now!"
"Bill, you can't be serious! Stick to the plan, mate, you have my personal guarantee it will work out for the better and…"
"TO HELL WITH YOUR PLAN! I won't wait, I'm going right now!"
Bootstrap Bill turned around to reach for the cabin's door, but Jack jumped on his back in an effort to restrain him and got a free piggyback ride for his troubles. If not for the situation, it would have been a funny sight to see lightweight Jack Sparrow trying to stop a man much taller and stronger than him: it was like watching a monkey trying to stop a whale! But nothing in this life could stop Captain Jack Sparrow from talking, so he kept on trying to placate his large friend while bumping against the cabin's low ceiling:
"BILL, calm down! Anger is an unwise advisor! Attacking the Conqueror on your own would only end in disaster and then our mutual friend would be in even more peril since Red Hand Pete could use you as leverage and…"
"GET OFF MY BACK, SPARROW!" roared Bill Turner.
"Literally or figuratively?" asked Jack with an innocent-sounding voice, but Bootstrap Bill wasn't in the mood to appreciate this attempt of humor. Growling like a mad dragon, he grabbed Sparrow and snatched him off his shoulders to throw him on a nearby chair like a rag doll; Jack protested loudly against the rough treatment, but his actions left Ammand enough time to whack Bill over the head with a bronze candlestick. The big man collapsed on the floor with a thud, moaning and holding his head which had been struck twice in a week's length of time.
"You alright, Serçe?" asked Ammand, a bit out of breath.
"Aye, I'm right as rain; thank you for your efficient yet forceful initiative!" said Jack while straightening his bandana and tricorn hat.
Some frantic sounds were heard outside the Great Cabin; a violent pounding resounded against the door while a man asked a torrent of questions in Turkish. Ammand sighed, and then said to Jack:
"It's Yusuf. He wants to know what is happening. What should I tell him?"
"Well, just say to your men that we've had a short argument about the price of your participation, and you've won the upper hand," answered Jack while gesturing to the crumpled form of Bootstrap Bill who was slowly regaining his senses. "It won't surprise your men in the latest. After all, quarrelling over money is the pirates' favorite pastime, isn't it?"
Ammand grunted before opening the door: indeed, it was Yusuf who had been doing the pounding and some other crewmembers had gathered behind him, weapons in hands. The Pirate Lord thanked them in his mother tongue for their loyalty and their concern, assured that everything was under control, and then repeated the consign of silence prevailing aboard the Seref in avoid being spotted by the Conqueror. Yusuf and the others retired, looking unconvinced but respectful of their Captain's orders. Meanwhile, Jack helped Bill Turner to sit on a couch and tried to find something to soothe the older man's hurting skull.
"Ammand, by any chance, you don't happen to have some extra rum, do you?"
"You know damn well I don't indulge in this kind of drink, Sparrow, and you've already swallowed the whole lot you've bought before leaving Tortuga! But if your partner is getting better, there are some tea left on the table which could help to clear his mind."
Jack inwardly sympathized with Bill, but it wasn't the appropriate time to test the corsair's patience. A glassful of tea was shoved into the elder Turner's hand, and he drank it without protests while cradling his aching head. Fortunately, the impact had been much less violent than the falling yard-arm so after a few minutes, Bill had regained enough of his senses to say in a contrite voice:
"I'm sorry, Jack."
"Well, you should be, Turner!" shot Sparrow back, sounding indignant. "Why should I tire my magnificent brains to produce failure-proof plans if you rush right into the lion's den to get massacred? How do you think your death would help? Not to mention how our "friend" would react at the news of your demise after he'd be freed from Red Hand Pete's clutches! Bill, I quite understand your feelings – believe me or not, it was extremely hard to leave the Conqueror's board while knowing that he is in such a predicament. But if we attack blindly, it would provide Pete and his nasty little pal from China enough time to mutilate the captive: they could gouge his eyes out, or cut off his ears, his hands, or… or something else, if you get my meaning! We have no idea if he still has the ability to heal. How could we live with ourselves afterwards, knowing that this tragedy could have been avoided if we had kept a cool mind under pressure? And how would you feel at the sight of him maimed for life, and…"
"All right, you've made your point!" groaned Bill, who was getting a splitting headache from Ammand's intervention and Jack's tirade.
Silence reigned for a while inside the Seref's Great Cabin, and then the Pirate Lord of the Black Sea's voice asked: "Turner… Your name is Turner?"
The older man blanched and Jack bit his lower lip as he realized with a start that he had blurted out Bootstrap's last name when scolding him about loosing his mind out of worry. Well, it served Jack right: he hadn't been very smart a few minutes ago, either. Talk about making a superb goof! Surely, the lack of rum must have somehow fried his legendary intellect. Ammand was far from a fool and he wouldn't buy Captain Jack Sparrow's fine words any longer… if he ever did in the first place, that is!
"Note to self: never embark in an adventure again without sufficient stock of rum," thought Jack but before he could find an explanation about his mouth being quicker than his brains, Bill answered with a sigh:
"Aye, I am William Turner, Senior."
Ammand's bushy eyebrows were tightly knotted above his piercing brown gaze, which was locked upon his two guests; he hadn't moved an inch, but Jack was getting increasingly worried because he knew that beneath this well-groomed and well-dressed appearance, the corsair usually preferred violence over negotiations: how would he react, after learning the real identity of Red Hand Pete's prisoner and how he had been kept purposely kept in the dark about it?
"All right, Serçe, out with it. The truth, right now!" growled Ammand. "And none of those insane talks of yours, otherwise I call off the deal and the two of you will find yourself aboard your dinghy, along with the six idiots and the parrot, and you'll attack Red Hand Pete with your bare hands for all I care. Understood?"
"I haven't lied to you!" protested Jack vehemently. "Bill and I are truly chasing Red Hand Pete because he did kidnap someone who is precious to both of us. That person had been snatched a few days ago and until this night, we didn't have a clue what were Pete's motives about that abduction. It happens the double-crosser wants to know the location of something most dangerous that our "friend" knows, and he had kept silence about it for the moment, but…"
"MY SON!" said Bill loudly.
Jack and Ammand jumped slightly at the interruption, but the older man just added in a miserable tone: "Red Hand Pete has kidnapped my son, Captain Turner."
The Turkish Pirate Lord's eyes widened as realization came to his mind: Master Bootstrap's face… Now he knew where and when he had seen it: right after the maelstrom battle! Ammand and his crewmembers hadn't been able to participate in the whirlpool fight, but he had witnessed the destruction of Lord Beckett and his ship by a hail of cannonballs fired by the Black Pearl and the Flying Dutchman…. All the Pirate Brethren had yelled loudly at the sight of their fallen enemy and the East India Trading Company's armada fleeing from the scene! Ammand had even done a little victory dance aboard his galley, out of joy!
The pirates had praised the Black Pearl and the ghost ship, which was freed of Davy Jones at least. All of them had cheered for Barbossa, Jack Sparrow, Pirate King Swann… and for Captain Turner, the new commander of the Flying Dutchman. Ammand had barely had the time to get a glimpse at the hero – a twenty-something lad with dark hair and clothes, who had been calmly talking to a tall sailor dressed in rags – through his spyglass, before the Seref had retreated for calmer waters. Ammand had never forgotten the young man's angelic features…
… And now he was staring at an older and broader version of that face! Master Bootstrap was indeed bearing an extraordinary resemblance to Captain Turner and with the confession of his blood ties… It explained everything, from his need to find the Conqueror and his willingness to pay in diamonds as if they had no more value than mere pebbles, to his association with Captain Jack Sparrow, running mouth but clever mind when it came to make escape plans!
"Your son… He's the Captain of the Flying Dutchman, isn't he?" asked Ammand.
Bill, still seated on the couch, simply nodded; he was too worried about Will to tell a lie.
"His first name is also William, Master Bootstrap?"
"Aye, Captain Ammand. I am sorry about this dissimulation, but… we didn't have any choice. We needed a ship and men determined enough to go after Red Hand Pete; but we also knew that the Flying Dutchman's reputation is still frightful to sailors, even if Will has worked very hard for five years to undo Davy Jones' terrible wrongs. We couldn't be slowed by the fears of your crewmembers, or waste time trying to convince them that rescuing my son won't press-gang them into service aboard the Dutchman for a hundred years. Although I cannot blame your men to be afraid of our ship's reputation, but I give you my word that William would never enslave anyone."
"Besides, Ammand," added Jack while tramping up and down the Great Cabin's floor, "It doesn't really matter to your men who Bill and I are rescuing. As far as they're concerned, we're on a raid that doesn't include fighting walking skeletons, fish-faced people or the East India Trading Company lackeys; which is quite a relief, come to think of it! All your men will have to do is fire at very ordinary would-be pirates, send Red Hand Pete and his ship to the depths and share a large booty of diamonds, courtesy of Bootstrap Bill. So why should we bother telling them the identity of Red Hand Pete's prisoner?"
"What about you, Serçe?" asked the Turkish pirate. "Are you actually telling me that you're willing to endanger your life to free Captain Turner?"
"As a matter of fact, I do! I embarked on that quest out of the debt I own to Bootstrap Bill; he's the only member of my crew who didn't betray me in favor of Hector Barbossa years ago, and he paid a very high price for his loyalty: years of enslavement under Davy Jones' tyranny. And I consider young Will Turner as a close friend; in fact, he's one of the very few friends I've ever made in my life, which I have reconsidered quite a lot after my impromptu trip to the Locker and my fight against Jones and Beckett in the whirlpool. The kid saved my neck from the gallows at Port Royal and stood up to Commodore Norrington, at the risk to be hanged alongside me! But with what I overheard on the Conqueror's deck, I've added a third reason for my participation."
"What is it?" asked Bill.
Jack swallowed hard before answering: "Red Hand Pete wants the Dead Man's Chest, previously owned by Jones. That's why he had William abducted and tortured. He wants to gain immortality so he'll be free to pillage all the ships he wants: meaning no sailor would be safe, may he be a pirate or an honest-to-goodness one! Pete would be able to plunder a whole armada of ships, or highly-protected cities hiding behind fortress-like walls. Heck, he could even lead his men inside land by sailing up the rivers, like the Vikings used to do with their drakkars! He would drench his thirst for gold on the blood of victims too numerous to be counted, and there would be no army or fleet capable to stop him: what would he care about getting shot at by pistols, cannons or bombards, since he'd be immortal? Can you imagine a Lord Beckett gifted with the powers of a Davy Jones, mates?"
"Not a pleasant thought," growled Ammand, furious at the idea of his cousin's murderer becoming the invincible terror of both land and sea.
"Not-at-all," said Jack, waving his arms around like a signalman. "What's worse, Red Hand Pete must have the chest's key in his possession already, meaning our rescue mission is complicated by the fact that we imperatively have to find it aboard the Conqueror…"
"No, we don't!" interrupted Bill Turner.
Captain Jack Sparrow turned his huge black eyes towards his former shipmate: "What do you mean, Bootstrap? Of course we have to find the key! Otherwise, William won't be able to open the chest in a few years to get back… ahem… well, to regain… hum… the thump-thump he lost during the maelstrom battle…"
"You don't understand, Jack. Will didn't have the key on him when he was captured."
This time, Sparrow's eyes looked like as if they wanted to pop out of their sockets!
"Whaddaya mean, he didn't have the key?! But the Dutchman's captain has to keep it on him at all times! So where on Earth is it?"
"Here," said Bill while reaching for something hidden beneath his wine-colored shirt, and he got out the famous double-stemmed key, hanging from his neck by a long, silvery chain: the elder Turner had made the links himself, from melted shillings he had found aboard the ghost ship, years ago. Jack noted that a lock of long, dark hair was tied to the key's bow and he supposed rightly it had belonged to Will.
"You have the Dead Man's Chest key with you?" said Jack, looking bewildered. "You took the precaution to pinch it before William went aboard the Conqueror? That was a stroke of genius, Bill! You're almost as tricky as I am!"
"No genius here, Jack, and no tricks; simply an expression of the immense love Will feels for me, his unworthy father, who had abandoned him. He entrusted me with this key as a token of his affection. I don't deserve that honor, but Will wanted me to have it and I didn't want to disappoint him. I agreed to keep it safe, at all costs, so Will's future would be guaranteed. And I've sworn to my son that nothing or no one, and I meant no one, would stand in our way to sever the bounds tying him to the Flying Dutchman after his 10-year-long duty!" added Bill with a steel-like gleam shining in his eyes.
One glance at the elder Turner's resolute face lifted any kind of doubt the two pirate captains may had: he looked like he would fight Calypso, the heathen sea goddess, if she had dared to try preventing the lifting of the curse! Then Bill extended his hand towards the Turkish Pirate Lord:
"What says ye, Captain Ammand? Do we still have a deal?"
Ammand considered long and hard his two guests before answering, but his mind was already made up: he wanted his revenge; Master Bootstrap wanted his son; Jack "Serçe" wanted to rescue his friend and to prevent a catastrophe to piracy, just like with the abhorred Lord Beckett. And all this pointed to Red Hand Pete, the most detested gentleman of fortune that had ever sailed on salty waters!
"We still have a deal, Master Bootstrap", said the corsair while shaking Bill's hand. "And I'll make sure my men won't recoil from fighting Red Hand Pete, even in the eventually they learn about your son's identity."
Bill smiled and, as on cue, Jack's ever-running mouth started working again:
"That's the spirit, mates! Should we seal our alliance in blood… Or maybe ink? Then again, I'd rather have a toast of rum! Oh right, I keep forgetting there isn't any aboard. I really, really should have packed more flagons. Anyway, the three of us are going to pummel Red Hand Pete to the ground, and the whole world will know what happens when resolute pirates like ourselves ally their forces for a common goal. With Ammand's leadership, Bill's determination and my marvelous plan, we cannot fail!"
"Oh, yes? And what is that wonderful plan of yours?" asked Ammand, a bit sardonically.
Captain Jack Sparrow motioned to the two other men to come closer and soon the three men were seated at the Great Cabin's round table.
"All right mates, here's the situation: Red Hand Pete's original plan is shot to pieces and he is trapped like a fly in an empty rum bottle. He has a prisoner who won't talk, a torturer who doesn't amount to anything, and a crew which is seriously considering mutiny. Pete is very far from getting his hands on the Dead Man's Chest and he cannot trust anyone aboard his ship to solve his problem. And by tomorrow morning, another problem will arise: he'll find out that the Conqueror's binnacle have been heavily damaged, along with the navigational instruments placed inside. Consequently, he'll have to make port as soon as possible to get a new set of compasses and a sand timer to be settled in the box."
"How do you know about the binnacle?" interrupted Bill Turner.
"Because I am the culprit who has damaged it earlier, that's why!" answered Jack, stating the obvious. "Hear me out: Pete will rant and rave about it, but he will have to go on land and find new navigational instruments: he could hardly roam on the seas for all eternity if he doesn't even know where he's going! He will have to stop torturing William for a while, because cries of pain coming from a ship anchored in a crowded harbor would draw unwanted attention. And the Conqueror will have no other choice than to reach the only port relatively safe for its Captain: Tortuga."
"Tortuga? But what if he'll find a new binnacle there?" asked Ammand.
"That's very unlikely! That island is well-known for the qualities of its rum, the attractiveness of its ladies and the originality of its fights, but it isn't the best port to make repairs: no wonders here, the population is constantly drunk! But Red Hand Pete could hardly go to another harbor, like Port Royal, where he would be instantly recognized and arrested. So he'll go to Tortuga in the hopes to find the necessary elements; he'll soon realize it's a no-go, but before he starts shooting in rage at everyone on sight, he'll meet his savior… John Silver."
Jack said this name with a wide grin on his face, showing his whole display of gold and silver teeth flashing under the light provided by the bronze lantern, rocking gently above the three conspirators' heads.
Bill was flabbergasted: did Jack mean that he was going to…?
"Serçe, you cannot be serious!" protested Ammand. "You plan to meet Red Hand Pete in Tortuga? But no one will believe your name is John Silver: you'll be recognized as soon as you'll step foot on land!"
"It is true that in the Caribbean isles, my face is as famous as the King of England's. That's the price of glory, mate!" sighed Jack dramatically while rolling his eyes. "But I've got it covered: I'll change my looks before reaching Tortuga, and my disguise would fool my own mother if she were still among us to testify."
"But Jack, what do you intent to propose to Red Hand Pete so he'll accept to collaborate with you?" asked Bootstrap Bill.
"Not with me, mate, but with John Silver!" specified Jack. "And who is John Silver? He's a bitter, down-his-luck man with a thirst for riches, ready to sell his soul to the Devil to reach his goal. He will learn about Pete's intentions while hanging around Tortuga's harbors, so he'll propose him an association: his help in making William talk, against a share of whatever treasure Pete is coveting."
"A way to make Will talk? What do you mean?"
Jack took out his magical compass from his belt again, opened it and the disk turned three times on its axis before it stopped so the fleur-de-lys needle would point in the direction of the west.
"Red Hand Pete needs a new compass, but he also needs a touch of magic to get out of his dead-end situation: he has an immortal prisoner who won't talk under tortures employed on common mortals. Well, to find out what are the secrets of a supernatural man, the logic asks for the use of a supernatural item!"
In the bowels of the Conqueror's, a young man slowly opened his eyes. The room he was kept in was poorly lit by a single candle burning behind the dirty glass panel of a lantern, but after a while he was able to make out the outlines of the various crates and boxes stocked in the silent orlop deck. There was nobody on sight and Will Turner let out a sigh of relief, which ended with a low groan of pain.
He couldn't feel his arms any more: they had been forcefully held in an upright position for days and they were completely paralyzed, with blood running from the cuts at his writs, where the chains had dug into his flesh. His lower body, still buried waist-deep inside the crate full of soil, was enduring an unbearable torment, comparable to be continuously pierced by spikes while locked inside an iron maiden. And his torso… oh God, that was where Long had concentrated his efforts in trying to make him talk: he had used needles, red-hot irons, whips… for hours. Will couldn't remember how many times he had fainted.
One image had remained vivid during his whole torment: the face of Red Hand Pete's servant snarling, just before he had started his interrogations: "You'll be a lot less beautiful after I'm finished with you!"
The prisoner glanced briefly at his bare torso, covered with wounds and burns. Small rivers of blood had spread from the cuts to finish their course in the dirt filling the crate he was half-buried in. He had not been given any food or water since his capture and his thirst, added to the weight loss, was weakening his body even more. Will knew it would be a matter of time before fever, coming from untreated wounds and lack of water, would drive him to madness. And then, what would happen? Would he confess the location of the Dead Man's Chest in his delirium, leading the wolves to the house sheltering Elizabeth and Little Will?
Please, no…
Fortunately, his resistance had highly irritated Red Hand Pete, who had hauled Long upstairs for a word of explanation about the poor results of his questioning techniques; it had given the prisoner a reprieve from the torture sessions, and for a brief moment he had felt a spark of pride shining inside his being. The false Peterson had stripped Will Turner of his freedom, his powers and his clothes; however, he had failed in his attempts to destroy the young man's courage and endurance… but for how long Will could still resist?
He moaned softly, wishing for the thousandth time that he could die. But he didn't have that kind of escape any longer and no one knew where he was. His father had been murdered; his men were sleeping forever in their watery graves; it would take months for his beloved Elizabeth to learn what had happened to her husband…
The young Turner closed his eyes in desperation; no one could find him, no one could help him. He was alone, trapped in a hellish place, at the mercy of ruthless men who were ready to torment him until he'd reach his breaking point. But nothing, not even his physical agonies, could be compared to the pain tearing his mind apart at the thoughts of his loved ones in danger, his adored father gone.
Papa… Elizabeth… Little Will…
A single tear escaped from his closed eyelids to run down on his cheek, his throat, his chest, and then Will lost consciousness again. Just before surrendering to the silence and the darkness, he whispered a name:
"Jack…"
TBC…