282 Days Before
Elizabeth spread her arms out, standing on the stool in front of three floor-length mirrors while the seamstress rolled out a bit more of the measuring tape to measure her inseam.
"So thin," she grunted to herself, on her knees, a few pins still protruding from her mouth.
"What?"
"Oh." She spat out the pins, forcing Elizabeth to glance over at her father and match his disgusted expression. "You're so thin, miss. It'd do you good to put on a few and be measured again."
"I find my daughter to be exquisite just the way she is," Governor Swann said from his chair, pressing down on his decorative walking stick, letting it clunk to the hard floor for effect.
"It ain't a question of beauty, sir," the seamstress grunted again, heaving herself back up to write down the measurements. "Once we get started, my girls'll probably think there's been some mistake and it's some half-starved fishmonger's wench gettin' married and not someone of, well, someone of your caliber." She waddled around the stool until she stood behind Elizabeth and measured the length of her arms. "Never seen such a lanky thing."
"It's fortunate all your clients have been so well-fed," Elizabeth said, apparently snarky enough for her father to clear his throat at her. "Could I take a sample of the fabric with me when we leave? To show my fiancé?"
"Miss, that might as well be showin' him the gown itself, bad luck you know."
"My maid then?" She rolled her eyes while the seamstress paused to write down the measurement.
"Of course, miss, of course. You can hop off of there now."
Elizabeth leapt off the stool and followed the seamstress to the piles of material and patterns strewn about the shop. Once again on her knees, the frizzy blonde hair of the seamstress was all Elizabeth could see.
"Ah ha! Here we are," she said, breathless, extending her arm out for Elizabeth to take the sample. "That's what the sides and back of the skirt'll feel like. Have ye given any thought as to how you'll wear your hair?" The tall, buxom woman ran her bony fingers through Elizabeth's hair.
"No, not yet."
"When ye do, let me know. It can make quite the difference when it comes to veils. Know if ye want one goes all the way to the ground?" She stood with her hands on her hips, making it all too clear Elizabeth was far from her first bride.
"Ground," Elizabeth muttered, digging her shoe into the floor. Selecting the cut and style of the gown had been easy, fun, even. Selecting the ivory color hadn't taken long, and even standing still for so long while all the measurements were taken had been tolerable, but with the clock chiming the last chimes of eleven o'clock, the smell of fresh straw and the clashing of swords called her away.
"I got something in the back I'd like ye to try on…if ye don't mind." She cocked her head to make sure they maintained eye contact. "I won't be makin' a dress like this and then being told it don't match with any veils."
"Why are you tormenting her?" Governor Swann hissed as soon as the seamstress hustled to the back of the shop and out of earshot.
"I'm not."
"You are. You're making it painfully obvious you're not listening to a word she's saying. It's been a long day for her, too."
"But she's the one getting paid."
"But you're the one getting married," her father snapped, so much so it crinkled Elizabeth's eyebrows. She held her hands behind her back until the seamstress returned.
"I'm going to touch your hair again if ye don't mind, miss. See this one's headpiece here?" She gathered up the sides of Elizabeth's hair and twisted them together into a bun on the top of her head. "I can tell you're a woman who likes to save time, gets to business. Whoever ye have help ye with your hair…just get them sides up like this and let a wave or two curl down…and the headpiece goes over the bun like so." Elizabeth could feel the heavy piece holding the bun together, drawing back her neck to balance it as the seamstress smoothed the tulle veil flowing down from it. "There ye go, down to the ground. Look in the mirror now and let me know if ye like it."
There were few times when Elizabeth paused to lavish in her own reflection, but now, her mouth agape, she couldn't help but inspect every angle of this woman more apt to be found unabashedly nude in a Botticelli painting rather than in this dusty town on the edge of civilization.
"It frames your face so well, my dear," her father whispered.
"Yes. I like this." She registered the vapidity of her response, but it didn't matter. This was now a woman to be married instead of a girl still in the dark about so much.
"I'll have it boxed up and then ye can take it with ye and the sample when ye leave here then," the seamstress said, removing the veil and folding it up over her arm.
Arm in arm with her father, she smiled over him at the box he carried containing her veil. Images of Will smitten as she walked down the aisle were interrupted by shouting in the square. Without even having to motion to her father, they hurried over to the square where a crowd called out ever-increasing numbers.
"Sold!"
Elizabeth bit her lip at what she just witnessed—a young boy, not yet fifteen by the look of him, dragged off the platform by a complete stranger, his new master.
"Barbaric." Her father shook his head. "Come."
"Next up, young male, thirties, strong, virile, all the way from India." The auctioneer patted the back of the spindly, narrow-featured man, his facial hair blending into his skin. A violet turban concealed most of his hair. "Come up! Come up. Look him over. Thin as a rail, but twice as strong."
A few men climbed up the platform and poked the shackled man, one audacious enough to stand on his tiptoes and pry open his mouth.
"He wears a pirate brand!" one of the men shouted, holding up the man's wrist.
"Knows his way around the Caribbean, he does!" the auctioneer recovered after a split second.
"Knows his way around a pistol, you mean," someone in the crowd yelled back.
"Why would a pirate be here and not executed?" she whispered to her father, eyes never leaving the vulgar sight. He shrugged, leaving Elizabeth's shoulders to slump. James would have known why, she thought. Breaking away from her father, she squeezed into the crowd where a red-coated soldier stood guard. "Excuse me?"
"Oh, yes, miss?" He flashed her a courteous, detached smile.
"Why is such a man here and not at the jail?"
"The pirate that's up there? It's rare, but not unheard of, usually means he surrendered willingly, didn't put up a fight. Depending on who captured him, one might see more profit in selling him than making him stand trial and all that nasty business." He glanced over at the man. "Probably wasn't this instance that earned him the brand, miss. Poor bugger probably had it before."
"Elizabeth! Whatever are you doing in here?" She jumped at her father tugging on her arm.
"Father, let's save him. We can set him free before he even sets foot in the house…"
"And have the whole town believe we condone this nonsense? I've been trying to lead them by example…"
"We could come back. Look. No one's buying him. He'll just be in that pen all night until the ship pulls out. We could come back and do it in secret. No one would see!" She wrenched her hand free and turned back to see them lead the turbaned man back down and behind the platform. Her heart sank further with every step he took. "Please, Father?"
"For God's sake, Elizabeth, the man's not a puppy. Come along. As a pirate, he might be fortunate having this as his fate compared to what could have happened to him."
"We could free him!" she said again, her own feet betraying her, taking her further out of the square.
"Elizabeth…" He trailed off, and for a moment, she knew his faraway eyes were contemplating her pleas. "I won't even entertain the temptation of buying one."
The humid night clung to her skin. The lightness of men's shoes forcing her to focus more of her attention on walking than normal. The cuffs of the baggy coat encompassed her fingers, so heavy it made her hunch forward. She reminded herself to reward Perkins with a day off and some extra spending money for donating his clothes…temporarily. She smirked, pulling the rim of the hat further down her face. A few insects chirping in the distance seemed to say, "Imposter, imposter" in response to her footsteps.
"Excuse me," she snorted, adding a gruffness to her confident voice. The auctioneer turned around from the empty pen in the square and smiled.
"Fine, fine evening," he coughed. "Sorry. All that talking during the day tends to render me hoarse. What can I do you for, boy?"
"There was a slave earlier today, the pirate. My man requests to make a private offer." She held up the small leather sack of coins, just out of his reach.
"They're holding him at the jail until we press on. Can't be too careful. You just go back and tell your man he's asking for trouble taking on a pirate."
"It's not my place, sir," she said, shoving the sack into her pockets. "Is he for sell or isn't he?"
"Aye, he is! Let's just see what you're putting out there."
Elizabeth unstrung the sack in his pocket and pulled out only a few gold coins.
"That's a bit piddling, don't you think?" the auctioneer chuckled.
"That's no way to bargain," Elizabeth said. "I would have thought since no one wanted him, you'd be willing to accept any price."
"This your first time negotiating price, boy?" He waited for Elizabeth to nod. "First rule: always make your first offer a little juicy. Make it look like you're giving something up."
"Fine." Elizabeth doubled the amount.
"Now we're talking." He traced the coins, not picking any of them out of her palm. "Let's walk over to the jail and discuss this further, shall we?"
The man sat in the cell, even after it had been unlocked and the auctioneer had run off with half of what had been in Elizabeth's sack. His long, bony fingers interlocked, he stared across the way at the opposite stone wall.
"Would you like to be free?" she asked, whispering it in her normal voice. This caught the man's attention. His head snapped in her direction with the deliberateness of a cobra.
"Come into the light, small one. I wish to know if you are a boy or a girl."
Elizabeth clasped the bars and pushed her hat up only so he could see her face. His eyes widened.
"My name is Elizabeth Swann. I'd like to know yours."
"Dhananjay."
"You haven't answered my question."
He towered over her, sending her scrambling backwards away from the cell. He maintained a kingly stance, feet shoulder-length apart, arms crossed in front of him, waiting for her to speak.
"I bought you for the sole purpose of freeing you," she said, summoning up more courage. He's not exactly your first pirate, she reminded herself, annoyance replacing fear at his reticence.
"You must hate the king."
"I just hate to see anyone locked away," she said.
"And what is the remainder of your plan?"
"Tortuga is the nearest port. You could commandeer a ship, a small one so you could man it yourself, and then…" Her cheeks reddened, appalled the words were coming out of her mouth. "…the entire ocean. The entire world. Wherever you want to go, you can go. Freedom." She blushed at the memory of what came next, his insipid line about the company being "infinitely" better than last time, but she concentrated back on the serious face of Dhananjay in front of her.
"You make an enticing offer, Elizabeth Swann."
"Does that mean you'll take it?
"It would be enticing if I could sail."
"What?" She could feel the color draining from her face. "How does a pirate not know how to sail? Even I know how to sail!" Her hands tensed, her fingers curling into talons ready to claw out his eyes.
"The captains never had me sail. I was always the one with the weapons."
"What?" she said again.
Dhananjay sighed. "I was kept because I can shoot. I was one of the ones who would swing across and cut all their throats. You know." He mimed a throat slitting. "It is a talent. I was so good…they never trusted me to man the ship." He stepped out of the cell and gave a formal bow to her.
"This way. We have to hurry." She skittered down the corridor of the jail to the back exit.
"Do you do this often?"
"Let's just say I know my way around here." Under the cover of darkness, she looked up at the posted men, looking outward towards the harbor and sea than underneath them. Holding her breath, she darted down through the grass, avoiding the stone path. They wobbled, the uneven ground threatening to turn their ankles at every step, but made it down to the main street, just behind the first set of shops.
"That way," she whispered, fighting for breath. Still behind the shops, she recognized the narrow smithy and clamored up the back steps. Just on the other side of the door was Will and her future as Mrs. Turner, and already both would need to come to her rescue. She pounded on the door. "Will? Will?"
"Elizabeth?" he yawned, straightening immediately at Dhananjay looming over the two of them. "What's going on?"
"We need a place for Dhananjay to stay for a few hours." She edged past Will and led Dhananjay into the living quarters.
"Elizabeth, what is going on? Who is this? Why are you dressed that way?" He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the other end.
"He's a pirate and was going to be sold as a slave and…I just couldn't let that happen, Will." She gave him an apologetic grin. "Now, he can't sail, so…"
"What? He can't sail? Are you sure he's telling you the truth?"
"He does have a pirate brand."
"Don't you think we've done more than our share as far as goodwill towards pirates goes?" he asked with gritted teeth, watching Dhananjay over her shoulder. "Besides, the nearest port is Tortuga. That's at least half a day's journey from here even if he could sail, which he can't."
"No, but you and I can." Her heart raced and her ears burned at seeing Will's incensed face. "We would leave first thing in the morning. I can run home and tell Estrella to tell Father some story…we would be back here by nightfall." His expression didn't change. Biting her lip again, she fought for a way to win him over, distraction with the details seeming the best course. "Jack did teach you how to sail, didn't he? You seemed to be fairly comfortable around a ship when we were on the Interceptor."
"That's not the point!" He threw up his hands, pacing around in a circle before taking her hands. "I'd do anything for you, really, but that doesn't give you the right to demand it out of me."
"He was going to be a slave, Will," she murmured, something in her warning her from yelling back at him. "Surely you have an idea of what that's like. Mr. Brown certainly treated you like one. And here we both are, about to have everything we wanted…because we're free to do so…" The sigh exiting out of him sounded like one of resignation, but Elizabeth surprised herself at how similar it sounded to music at this point.
"And you have a plan for acquiring a ship?"
"Actually, I fancied you were the more experienced one when it came to commandeering ships…"
281 Days Before
Spending the night at Martha's house, Elizabeth shook her head, helping the wind toss her hair. Father believed it and Estrella swore she could keep up the ruse all day, but after one look at the sun ascending from the waves, silhouetting the whole ocean save for its own reflection shimmering in pieces in the water, broken up so perfectly it was like a trail of stardust… She was scarcely aware of how heavy the helm of the schooner felt in her hands.
"…like this," she heard for the hundredth time, peering down to catch sight of Will still teaching Dhananjay the fundamentals. She giggled, recalling herself in that position a few years ago, all but seducing James into taking her out onto the Dauntless and showing her how to sail, starting from releasing the mooring lines at thirteen all the way to simple fighting strategies at twenty. This must have been the view Jack held teaching Will, she thought, imagining Will scrambling all over the deck from one task to another. It had occurred to her that they might run into a familiar face at Tortuga, Jack celebrating whatever gains his newly won freedom allowed him to have. What a surprise it would be, those black eyes widening in realization and then feigning disinterest. It didn't take long to notice that. She owed them her life in a way. It had all been black, so black, and then a jolt, her lungs almost overwhelmed with air. The sense of taste and smell returned to her first, coughing out the salty water; then touch, sensing some of it dribble down her chin, some of it clinging to her eyelashes. They batted at it, sight returning and fastening, locking, onto those eyes for dear life. She didn't know who he was even when he spoke, giving her back her sense of hearing. Made whole again in the span of seconds paralyzed her at the same time she felt like she'd been launched into the air, at last ready to fly.
She experienced that same paradox now, knowing it would be another hour before they would hear glass-crunching, pistol-shooting, hornpipe-blasting Tortuga. It would take at least an hour to decide if she was more terrified of running into Jack or missing him altogether.
"I cannot thank you enough," Dhananjay said to both of them, his long coat and shifty eyes blending into the debauchery around them. "There's no way to repay you."
No, there isn't, she could see on Will's face, but he summoned a smile and shook his hand.
"Best of luck to you," he said, pulling the handshake closer. "Miss Swann gave you your freedom. If I were you, I would make sure it wasn't squandered."
"I'd like a word with him alone, Will, if you don't mind." He nodded, his demeanor still cold towards her, but better than it was. He walked off and stood on the edge of the pier, their ship tied off and lulled by the current. Turning back to Dhananjay, she took the folded slip of paper out of her coat pocket. "I have a favor to ask."
"Oh dear…" he drew out.
"Take this." Her face grew hot, still not satisfied with her rehearsed request. "If you should ever see Captain Jack Sparrow…"
"Captain? You are being generous. He does not have a ship."
"Oh, but he does. The Black Pearl," Elizabeth began, but clamped her mouth shut at his astonishment.
"The Black Pearl? If I find him and do you this favor, you are saying I have a chance to sail on the Black Pearl?" He stumbled backwards, a hand over his heart.
"You know of her?" It gave her a fleeting sense of pride for some reason. "She's a gorgeous ship."
"Ah, but Jack Sparrow does not care for what is merely gorgeous." Dhananjay waved a finger at her. "There is more to that ship, much, much more. What is this that you need to give him?" He unfolded it and skimmed the contents.
"That's a report of his arrest and trial. You can see down there the date they scheduled him to be killed. I thought he might like it." She shrugged. "Consider it a trophy. But it's only if you ever meet him. Don't put yourself out of the way for me." She shook her head at his opening mouth. "I'd much rather you find your happily ever after or whatever it is pirates hope to reach."
"Shiny things."
"Very well. Find as many shiny things as you can." She gave one last motherly look to him and then trotted down the pier to the ship. Meeting Will's unreadable face with one of her own, she climbed aboard and took her place at the helm.
A/N: If anyone knows what kind of ship the Pearl is, I'd really like to know. Going by looks alone on Rob Ossian's Pirate Cove website (I don't know you, Rob, but here's a shout-out!), I would guess it to be a frigate, but I have a really hard time identifying ships, planes, cars, etc. Cyber pat on the back to whoever can give me an answer! Also, something is weird with my Document Manager, so I had to copy and paste this and as a result, deleted my Chapter 9, so if there are more errors than usual or any weird spacings, please forgive me. Hopefully that situation will improve soon. Please leave a review!