Disclaimer: the same as chapter 1
Author's notes:
- To Sonjadore: thank you for your kind words! I'm trying to post a new chapter every week ;-)
- A big "Thank you" to all the persons who have added this story on their Favorites' and Alerts' lists!
Chapter 13: He's my brother
Aboard the Seref, Yusuf, the First Mate, knocked on the Great Cabin's door with a big smile on his face.
"Girin! (Come in!)" answered the gruff voice of his Captain, and Yusuf entered Ammand's private quarters. The corsair was studying his navigational charts while his guest, Master Bootstrap, was sipping a glass of tea, sitting in a corner. Both men looked preoccupied and it seemed they hadn't talked for a long time, but as soon as Yusuf entered, they jumped on their feet with a thousand questions in their eyes. After Jack Sparrow had explained his plan, the Turkish galley the Seref had quietly followed the brig The Conqueror until it had reached Tortuga. But while Red Hand Pete's vessel had moored in the harbor, Ammand had preferred to drop anchor in a more remote place to avoid detection by their prey and unwanted questions by the inebriated insulars. Then, the Captain had sent two of his sailors to keep an eye on Jack, with orders to interfere promptly in case the marvelous plan would fail and Sparrow's skin would be compromised in the process.
The spies had just come back from the craziest town of the Caribbean and after listening to their reports, Yusuf had wasted no time to alert his Captain about what they had witnessed.
"So? What news?" asked Ammand.
"Very good news, Kaptan, very good indeed!" answered Yusuf. "Kaan and Galip have returned from the Faithful Bride. They confirm that Kaptan Sparrow has met with Red Hand Pete in this tavern; they don't know what he told the enemy, but somehow Sparrow has convinced him: they drank for hours, and when they finally left the Faithful Bride, they were acting as if they were the best friends in the world! The last time Galip and Kaan had seen Sparrow and Red Hand Pete, they were heading for the Conqueror."
Ammand and Bill Turner exchanged a quick glance.
"It seems that Serçe has succeeded in his mad scheme!" exclaimed the Pirate Lord of the Black Sea. "When he told us about his idea of gaining Red Hand Pete's trust so he'd be allowed to climb aboard the Conqueror, I really thought the rum had definitively fried his brains!"
"But his plan worked, Captain Ammand," said the elder Turner. "Jack has now access to the Conqueror, meaning he'll be able to find where Will is held but, first and foremost, what kind of manacles Red Hand Pete is using to keep him captive on his ship."
"Why are you so worried about manacles, Master Bootstrap? If the prisoner is bound, we'll just break his chains with a pistol's shot. I've lost count of the times I've done that in my career!"
The big man suddenly looked embarrassed, darting nervous glances in the direction of the First Mate. Suddenly realizing his guest didn't want to talk about his son in front of a witness, Ammand talked to Yusuf in Turkish: first to give him orders to ready the Seref to sail at once; and second, to tell him to reward Galip and Kaan for their good spying work. After Yusuf had retired, Ammand turned to face the ex-doomed pirate, with his bushy eyebrows tightly knotted above his amber-colored eyes.
"Master Bootstrap, is there something you'd like to tell me?"
"Actually, Captain, it is more about the worry that is currently eating me alive!"
"I understand your distress, especially after Serçe said about your son…"
"Yes, and I'm having a very hard time controlling some murderous ideas! But what kills me is I haven't been able to find out how Red Hand Pete is keeping my son captive aboard his ship. You must understand, Captain Ammand: after the maelstrom battle, Will became the commander of the Flying Dutchman and his captaincy was earned at a very heavy price. But he also gained some incredible powers in the process; the most important one is being able to "materialize" himself on another ship, as quickly as you would snap your fingers. Will has used this ability many times since he became our Captain, and it had been very useful to search for survivors in flotsams. I'm lacking time to make the list of all his gifts, but they can be resumed like this: as long as Will remains on the ocean, nothing can hurt or tie him. So how on Earth Red Hand Pete is preventing Will from escaping from his ship, and how does he maintain him in a state of vulnerability so he'd be tortured?"
"And you're afraid the bounds Red Hand Pete is using against your son might imperil Sparrow's plans?"
"Aye," said Bootstrap Bill while turning to face the Great Cabin's walls, in an effort to hide the tears gathering in his blue eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was raw with barely-contained emotion:
"If Jack fails, we won't have any other choice than open fire on The Conqueror and I cannot start to imagine the consequences. We know about Red Hand Pete's motives, his search for the Dead Man's Chest, but too many questions have been left unanswered before Jack went to Tortuga and now… I fear he had overestimated his abilities, and something will happen to him before he'd have the opportunity to free Will."
"Master Bootstrap, whatever chain is keeping your son prisoner aboard The Conqueror, may it be made of iron or of a supernatural material, I sincerely doubt it could resist Serçe's mind!"
Ammand chuckled lightly at his own words, but Bill Turner was too tired, too angry and too worried to be reassured about his friend's abilities to survive a dangerous spying mission. Besides, there was something else that preoccupied him…
"Jack may be impossible to figure out. But in spite of his wild talks and his constant drunkenness, he hasn't hesitated to help me finding Will. After the abduction, I had nobody else to turn to – our ship was damaged, the crew was completely disoriented, and I can't make a good plan to save my life. Sparrow was my only hope, but I didn't know at the time if he'd be willing to enlist in my quest. He accepted spontaneously and I am ashamed to say this, but he has surprised me! I thought for sure I would have to buy his services with a share of the diamonds, but he didn't ask for anything in return. He's a better friend than I'd thought him to be," concluded Bill with a sigh.
Ammand remained silent for a moment before putting his hand on his guest's shoulder.
"My people have a saying: "Gerçek dost kara günde belli olur." It means, "In times of need, you learn who is a real friend." You're not the only one who is finding it difficult to understand Serçe, Master Bootstrap. Then again, who wouldn't? With that nonsense flooding out of his mouth, he'd try the patience of a holy man! But his very presence at your side proves that he wants to rescue your son as much as you do. He wouldn't deliberately walk into that viper's nest Red Hand Pete calls a ship, armed only with his tongue, if he didn't have a good reason to do so! Hold on to hope, Master Bootstrap: with Serçe gaining the trust of Red Hand Pete, it's only a matter of time before he'd send his signal for a boarding party and… our enemy will pay dearly for his actions, past and present."
Aboard The Conqueror, the men had done their usual chores with a lot of grumbling. Too many sleepless nights had made them bold, not caring about eventual disciplinary measures from their commanding officer who was in a terrible mood from Long's failure and the damages inflicted on the ship's binnacle. In fact, the crewmembers' resentment towards their Captain had increased with the brutal murder of Anderson, the helmsman, and the interdiction to go ashore for a night of drink and enjoyments in Tortuga. Red Hand Pete had been adamant about that point: all his sailors had to remain on board and wait for his return. But it had been hours since he had left to seek for a new compass, and the men were getting impatient and angry, almost reaching the point where they would consider mutiny. The mood onboard was somber, indeed.
Only one of the crewmembers wasn't bothered by this sullen atmosphere at all; in fact it was greatly serving his purpose. Tony had been waiting for his chance to go down to the orlop deck without raising attention and so far, the men had been too absorbed by their complains to notice the old man quietly descending the stairs. Long was nowhere in sight: after he had failed in learning Turner's secret, he had been roughly beaten by his Master – much to the crew's delight – so he was probably nursing his wounds in his own cabin.
Tony knew the Captain had forbidden the sailors to go to the place where the prisoner was kept. But for the first time of his life, he was deliberately disobeying a direct order. He had been shanghaied into service after his ship had been lost with all hands years ago, and since he had been living in a constant state of submission to Red Hand Pete. But those past few days, the white-bearded man's terror had been replaced by another emotion: shame.
Yes, Tony was ashamed for his passive role in Turner's kidnapping and torture. It wasn't the first time he had witnessed Red Hand Pete's cruelty but this time, he wouldn't turn a blind eye and pretend that nothing was happening. Tony had overcome his mislead fears about the Captain of the Flying Dutchman being a monster in disguise – the horrible cries of pain heard for almost four days in a row had convinced him of Will's humanity – and now, he wanted to help him. It hadn't been possible to do it earlier: that accursed Long wouldn't leave the prisoner, tormenting him night and day to gain a confession. But right now the Captain was on an errand, his servant was sulking somewhere, and the crewmembers were distracted: the coast was clear!
Tony reached the last level of the ship, below the water line, and he looked around to make sure no one had followed him. But the orlop deck was silent, apart from the faint squeaking of rats, and barely lightened by a two lanterns oscillating at the end of ropes hanging from the ceiling. After a few minutes, the old man's eyes got accustomed to the semi-darkness and he could make out the contours of a large crate… and the young man buried waist-deep inside it.
Tony had a hard time to refrain from crying: Long had been… merciless. Turner's arms were held upright and bound together by a chain, his eyes were closed, and his head was bowing in exhaustion under a curtain of long, dirty hair. His chest was covered with blood and, as the old man came closer, he could see there were deep burns that would take weeks to cicatrize, puncture wounds drawing some strange patterns on the skin, angry slashes from a whip, and many other injuries that he couldn't identify. On top of everything, some black-furred rats had climbed on the soil-filled crate to gather around Turner, looking at the victim with hungry eyes while clawing at his naked, wounded torso. Those blasted creatures were getting ready to eat him alive!
His state made Tony suddenly remember the image of a martyred saint he had seen on a fresco painted on a church's wall, decades ago. Tony recalled his sorrow at the heartbreaking sight of an unarmed, peaceful man being subjected to a horrible death, and how revolted he had felt against the executioners! But years of experience had taught him the hard way about some men's unlimited cruelty, especially towards people who couldn't protect themselves. Will's brutalized body, surrounded by disgusting critters, was another demonstration of wickedness…. And for Tony, it was once too much.
Filled with revulsion, Tony stepped on a smaller crate to be at eye-level with the prisoner, and then he lashed out at the rodents, which scurried away at all speed, squeaking in protest at the rough treatment they were receiving. With a few well-placed and violent kicks, fueled by his imagination where he was stomping on Red Hand Pete's head, Tony efficiently discouraged the rats from hanging around the orlop deck. One of them stupidly tried to bite him and its jaw got snapped in two by the impact of the old sailor's boot!
After the last animal had turned its wormy-looking tail to disappear in the shadows, the seaman slid two fingers under Will's chin to make him raise his head: in spite of the dim light, he could see that Turner's face was also covered with bruises, needle marks and blood dripping from his mouth and nose. The young man's life was hanging by a thread: his breathing was almost imperceptible, his skin was terribly pale, he looked completely boneless and for a horrible moment, Tony thought he had arrived too late.
But after Will felt someone's hands gently brushing the matted hair away from his face, his eyes fluttered open at the cost of an enormous effort. His vision was blurry so he couldn't make out the features of the stranger hovering so close to him, and he whispered feebly:
"N-No m-more… No… more…"
"Shh, lad, I ain't gonna 'urt ye," said Tony softly, still afraid that someone might discover him. They would have to remain quiet; otherwise, if somebody showed up, he'd have a hard time to explain his presence in the orlop deck or, even worse, he could be caught on the act of being compassionate towards the Captain's prisoner.
Tony took out a leather flask from beneath his dirty shirt, uncorked it and pried open Will's parched lips to ease some drinking water down his throat. But the kid was too weak to swallow it, and the water spilled all over his chin and torso, getting mixed with the blood and sweat. Tony took a clean rag out of his pocket and soaked it with water; he squeezed the linen so a few drops would fall inside the captive's mouth. This time, it was more successful: Will swallowed the life-giving liquid, but not without difficulty since his tongue was swollen from thirst. The white-bearded sailor went on with his ministrations, giving Turner little amounts of water – he remembered that making a wounded man drink too quickly could only result in retching, and it would worsen the dehydration. He used the rag in an attempt to clean Will's face and neck, but the wounds were too numerous and it was saturated with caked blood.
Tony cursed himself for not bringing more linen, when Will muttered:
"W-Who…. are you…"
"Name's Tony, lad. Sshh, do not talk. I ain't gonna do anything to 'urt ye, I promise."
"T-Tony?"
"Aye, now be quiet. The Captain would 'ang me fer sure if he find me 'ere with ye. Not s'posed to help prisoners, see?"
Tony cupped the back of Will's head and gave him some more water, desperately hoping that it would give him enough strength to make him break his bounds and escape from the ship. But Will had stayed buried in earth for much too long: not only the element had inflicted him great pain, but it had also completely annihilated his powers and it would take months before he'd regained them again. And how could he manage to get out of the soil-filled crate on his own, while being gravely wounded and exhausted to the point of not being able to stand? No one, not even Tony, would have enough courage to free him.
The water slowly brought Will back to awareness, and with it the unbearable feeling of sharp-edged spikes piercing his lower body, still buried deep inside the crate. He moaned loudly and Tony panicked, looking over his shoulder to make sure nobody was coming; little did he know that Will had recognized the older man: it was the same one who had been taking care of the dying boy, just before falling into Red Hand Pete's clutches. A low groan escaped from his throat, and then Will whispered:
"Am s-so… sorry…"
Tony's eyes widened: what would the prisoner apologize about?
"Whatchoo mean, lad?"
"The boy," said Will with a sob, "He's d-d-dead… his soul… lost… am s-sor…ry!"
Tony dropped the rag on the floor, absolutely stunned by those words: this youngster had been abducted, beaten up, tortured and starved for days, but he was sorry because he hadn't been able to help Andy? In spite of his terrible ordeal, Turner was still feeling concerned about the boy's soul, and he was devastated at the thought it might be lost forever in the wideness of the ocean?
"How deep is yer 'eart, lad?" asked Tony, unaware of the significance of the red scar on Will's chest; he added in a conspiratorial tone: "Andy's not dead. After Red 'and Pete trapped ye, I 'id the boy in the lower gun deck and I've been taken care of 'im since as often as I could. Poor little mite's stayed passed out for two days, and 'e woke up and it seem 'e's goin' to make it. I hid 'im because I was afraid the Cap'tain wuld use the boy ta force ye ta talk by torturing 'im, too, but it seem he 'ad forgutten all about Andy."
Unbelievably, a tiny smile spread on Will's lips.
"An..dy… a-a-live?"
"Aye. 'e is alive and on the mend, no thanks ta that bastard Red 'and Pete!"
Tony stashed his empty flask back inside his shirt before climbing down the smaller crate to retrieve the bloodied rag. But when he looked up, he felt his blood turning into ice in his veins: Shiao Long, his broken nose sporting an angry-red bruise, was standing right in front of him!
Tony slowly got up on his feet, his heart beating loudly against his ribcage. Long was the only person onboard that he wasn't afraid of, but he was in trouble for being at the wrong place at the wrong time!
"What are you doing here?" asked Long with a voice full of venom.
"Who wanna know?" shot the older man back, feigning annoyance while discreetly hiding the rag inside his closed fist.
"You dare to be insolent towards me!" hissed the Chinese. "I'll have your head for this; I'll tell the Master about your arrogance!"
Paradoxically, the threat reassured Tony: the Captain's lackey wanted to report him for being impertinent, not for his unexplained presence in the orlop deck and he hadn't seen him giving water to the captive.
"Oh, I'm so scared! As if the Cap'tain wuld listen ta ye, anyway!"
"I have a high position in this ship's hierarchy, you worm! I am the Master's right hand and his confident!"
"Aye, ye know a lot about 'is right 'and: ye got it square in yer face! Well the Cap'tain isn't pleased wif ye, so go ahead and rat to 'im, ya snitch, and all ye'll get is 'is left 'and smacking ya ugly snout, too!"
Long was seething with anger, but Tony was still strong and able to defend himself while he had never been good in hand-on-hand combat. The Chinaman had always preferred to eliminate his enemies by killing them in their sleep, or by using poison or stab wounds in the back. Besides, murdering a sailor would be hard to explain to Red Hand Pete, who disliked this kind of action if he weren't the one committing it, and Long had fallen from grace – hard, especially against the ship's mainmast – so it would be very unlikely that his "Master" would listen to his complains! That foul-smelling sailor had probably come down the orlop deck to get a glimpse at Long's handiwork out of morbid curiosity, and he wasn't worth a moment of his time.
The Chinese considered with silent hate the half-conscious prisoner, the cause of all his troubles: he had been thoroughly humiliated by Red Hand Pete; now, the miserable ship slaves dared to openly mock him! And for the life of him, Long couldn't see where his interrogation techniques had failed. He had used them all his life on countless men, some of them physically much stronger than Turner. But after two days, at most, all his victims had cried for mercy, begged him to ask them what he wanted to know, and implored for a final end to their sufferings. Only once did a man have managed to resist for three days, just before the pain had driven him to madness!
So how this prisoner could endure his torments for five days, almost six? Red Hand Pete had told him Turner was the protégé of a heathen deity named Calypso, but he was born a human; so he must have a breaking point, like everybody else! But he couldn't think more about this because Tony spoke again:
"Yep, the Cap'tain is gunna get ya good, Long. Ye did ah great job in makin' the prisoner scream, but yu're sure lousy at makin' him talk!"
Long looked if he would punch the sailor, but Tony's face hardened and he took a defensive pose, silently defying his opponent to dare silencing him. Exasperated by his failure and his frustrations, the Chinese yelled a long litany of insults in his native language, but Tony couldn't possibly care less about words he'd never understand. Then Long turned heels and reached out for the pillar where the chain holding Will's arms was tied.
"Hey! Whatchoo are doin'?" asked Tony.
"Silence, you vermin!" hissed Long while trying to unknot the chain, but to no avail: Andrews had done a good job securing it at the pillar.
"Whattaya doing? You wanna untie the chain?" It looked almost like the Chinese wanted to pull Turner out of the crate, but Tony dismissed this absurd idea quickly: as if Long would try to help the prisoner! So what kind of a vicious plan had formed inside his mind?
"Leave me alone, you fool! Go back to your rum-soaked shipmates and get out of here!"
"I wanna know what ye're doin'! Why da ya want to untie the chain?" said Tony while grabbing the small man by the arm.
"You dare! You dare mistreating me!" yelped Long, who was holding on the chain for dear life while looking thoroughly outraged that one of his inferiors would manhandle him. "I'll cut off your head with a dull knife!"
"What's going on here?" thundered a voice, and both men jumped at the sight of Red Hand Pete, who was looking at them with murder clearly written in his blue-green gaze. His sudden presence was already frightening, but the presence of a livid man, with wild black hair and eyes darker than sin, standing two steps behind, was even worse: he had the appearance of an accountant from Hell!
Tony and Long swallowed nervously: the Captain was drunk – that was obvious from the flushed skin of his face – and his temper could be terrible under the influence. And they had no idea who the stranger was, apart that he wasn't a sailor or a prisoner.
"M-Master, I can explain…" started Long.
"Silence, Long!" roared Red Hand Pete, and the small man cowered in fear. "Tony, what happened here?"
The old sailor had never denounced a shipmate in his life, but the Chinaman wasn't a comrade, just a dirty ass-licker who deserved only contempt after he had tortured an innocent man. Besides, there was the matter of Andy, hidden in the lower gun deck: if anything should happen to Tony, there would be no one to bring food to the boy and change his bandages. So he seized his chance to exonerate himself from blame by answering: "Mister Long wanted ta untie the chain, Sir!"
"What do you have to say, Long?" asked Red Hand Pete with a very dangerous voice.
The Chinese could hardly deny his actions: his fingers were still entangled in the chain's links!
"P-Please, Master, I just wanted to pull the captive out of the soil a bit. I thought that if you'd allow me to unearth his abdomen, I could use my questioning items on his genitals and…"
Tony didn't have the time to be disgusted: Red Hand Pete smashed his fist on Long's face, breaking his nose a second time and making the smaller man fly through the orlop deck!
"HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU THE PRISONER MUST BE KEPT IN THE CRATE AT ALL TIMES, YOU IDIOT? DO YOU WANT TO GIVE HIM A CHANCE TO RECOVER HIS POWERS AND ESCAPE? CAN'T YOU REMEMBER THE SIMPLEST ORDERS?" yelled the Conqueror's commander. He looked like he was going to draw out his pistol and shoot at his so-called devoted servant. For a moment, Tony thought that the stranger's face had paled even more at the sight of Turner, but then again, maybe the insufficient light had played a trick on his eyes.
Red Hand Pete started to beat up Long again, when the clerk-lookalike's voice rose calmly:
"Trying to obtain a confession from a man by "working" on his private parts? Tsk, tsk, how old-fashioned… How unimaginative… How trite! That idea is really the last resort of the incapable and the useless! No wonder your tormentor hasn't been able to gain the tiniest scrap of information from your prisoner, if he only uses those outdated concepts!"
The man looked a bit unsure on his legs, as if he was also drunk or he hadn't stepped foot on a ship for a very long time; however, his demeanors were calm, his dark eyes were shining and he had a bone-chilling smile on his face, like he was inwardly sharing a private joke with the Prince of Darkness in person. Tony felt shivers crawling down on his spine while looking at the foreigner, and was starting to think it hadn't been a good idea to try and help the prisoner. But the quietly-asked question worked wonders on Red Hand Pete's irritated mood: he suddenly lost all his interest in hitting Long to turn towards the white-faced man with the ringed eyes, asking:
"See what I have to deal with, Mister Silver?"
"It appears to me, Captain Red Hand Pete, that the problem isn't your prisoner, but your servant. Not only he doesn't seem able to comprehend that his techniques won't work on a man gifted with supernatural powers, but he persists on making the same mistake over and over again because he cannot admit his defeat. You're a poor loser, aren't you, Mister Long?"
"That imbecile… I never should have listened to him!"
"Oh well, at least we have a much more efficient method in making the prisoner talk. Should we start the procedure I have mentioned to you, Captain?"
"By all means, Mister Silver! You're right, let's not waste time any longer. Tony, scram! You have nothing to do here!"
Tony didn't have to be asked twice to obey: whatever that living corpse, Silver, had planned to do, it couldn't be good for Turner and the old sailor didn't want to see what was going to happen next. He climbed the stairs as fast as he could, a part of him rejoicing that he hadn't been caught in trying to help the young man, but another part was also desperate that his ministrations had all been in vain and soon, cries of pain would come out of the Conqueror's bowels.
"Now, let's see…" said Captain Jack Sparrow while slowly walking towards the large crate imprisoning Bill Turner's son. His heart was beating wildly beneath his shirt: his brother… his little brother was in such a state! His body was nothing by a huge wound and he didn't have enough strength within him to hold his head. He looked like he had gone through twenty shipwrecks! The memory of Davy Jones stabbing Will during the maelstrom battle came back to his mind and the auto-proclaimed most famous pirate of the Caribbean felt like gagging and screaming at the same time.
Oh, I'll need to drink a whole barrel of rum after this! Baby bro, what have they done to you?
Jack could feel anger making his blood boil under his blemish makeup and for one, crazy minute he considered attacking Red Hand Pete and his lackey on the spot, but he wasn't foolish or drunk enough to compromise Will's chances of rescue. Pete wasn't a newcomer with a sword, and Wang Tao had warned them about Long's killing techniques.
Stick to the plan, Jacky: there is a hostile audience watching…
"There is way too much light in here," said Jack aloud, and he deftly extinguished the lantern closest to Will, increasing the semi-darkness reigning in the orlop deck. Then he climbed on the same box Tony had used as a step and, in a casual movement to steady his balance, he laid his hand on the big crate's fillings.
The ex-commander of the Black Pearl didn't need a light to understand what was beneath his fingertips: soil. The crate had been filled with soil, and Will was buried to the waist in it.
So, that was how Red Hand Pete had managed to shackle him! Jack had suspected it since the beginning, after Bill had told him the circumstances of the abduction, but he needed a confirmation so he hadn't shared his suspicions with the elder Turner or with Ammand. So, it seemed Jack had been right in his deductions. Land was something Davy Jones had dreaded more than anything. Like every tyrant, Jones had loved to watch innocents suffer but he had been petrified at the thought of his self being hurt. The Master of the Seas was allowed to step foot on land only once every ten years, otherwise he'd loose his powers and be subjected to great physical pain.
To think Will had been buried in this element for days! He's as helpless as a fish out of the water! Oh, just you wait, Red Hand Pete!
Jack got out his compass from his coat's pocket, opened the lid and the disk started turning in the earnest. His voice took some hypnotic inflexions and while he kept the navigational instrument nearby the red scar barring his kid brother's injured chest, he started murmuring to Will:
"Hello, Captain… Please, do not be afraid… I know you've been hurt, but it's over now… Your tormentor is gone, and he won't come back… You're safe… You're safe… Your secret hasn't passed your lips… Don't be afraid…"
Red Hand Pete approached the soil-filled crate, but Jack motioned him to remain in the background. At the same time, Will moaned softly and opened his eyes again, but he was too weak to distinguish anything in the gloominess of the room, not even the white-faced man that had replaced Tony in front of him.
"Your secret… It is in your heart, isn't it, Captain?" crooned Sparrow while his compass' disk spun on its axis. "Oh yes, it is in your heart… Your heart…. You have hidden your secret in your heart… You are safe… That was pretty clever, from someone so young… Yes, you have secured your secret in a place and no one knows where it is, except you…"
Long looked incredulously at his Captain's guest: what in the name of all unholy demons was that escapee from Hell doing?
Jack kept on talking, while inwardly repeating his own mantra: "I know what I want; I know what I want; compass, point the needle to the thing I want the most…": "Your heart is your secret, Captain… You have hidden it in a safe place… It is safe… It is safe… And now, you want it back… Don't worry; you won't be hurt anymore… You just want your secret back, don't you? You want it back… It has been years, Captain, and you are tired… You have been sailing for years; it is now high time to make port… You want to go home… You need to go home… And you need your heart to go home…"
Will could hardly see, but he could hear the soft words whispered in his ears. Oh yes, he longed for home… For Elizabeth, their son, for love… He missed his wife so badly! He wanted to hug Little William! He knew that Elizabeth's faithfulness would break the curse… Curses could be lifted, like the one which had changed the mutinous pirates into walking skeletons… Her true love would set him free and they'd live happily ever after together… Will smiled at the thought…
"I can help you to go home… I want to help you, Captain… But you have to help me… Where is your heart, Captain? Oh, you can trust me… I have chased away the monsters that had been hurting you… They wanted your secret, but you haven't talked: you're so brave! But now, you are tired… You are tired… You want to go home, you want to be safe… Wanting to go home is normal, Captain… But you need your heart to go home… Your heart… You had buried it, and it location is a secret, but you need it… you want it… The monsters have hurt you, and you cannot move… Tell me where your heart is, Captain, and I'll get it for you… I am your friend, I want to help you… You need help to go home… Your heart is waiting for you… where is it?" asked Jack, who carried on thinking: "I know what I want; compass, point the needle to the thing I want the most…"
Red Hand Pete snickered quietly at Silver's words: he was actually persuading the prisoner that it was safe to reveal the location of the Dead Man's Chest! Talk about deviousness! It reminded him of a demonstration made by a snake charmer he had seen in India, years ago: the emaciated man had been able to make the cobras swing slowly at the end of their tails, completely entranced by the music coming from his flute!
"Your heart… You must have your heart to go home… Think about your heart, Captain… Think about it… Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump… It's the sound of life, of warmth, of peace… You are so tired, you want to go home… It is your deepest wish and your heart will guide you to it, like a lighthouse shining in the dark… Think about your heart, Captain… It will lead you to the right direction to find it… You want your heart back… You need your heart to go home… Your heart is your home… I will help you uncover it… Think about your heart… You want to feel its beating inside your chest once again… Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump…"
"I know what I want; I know what I want…"
All of a sudden, the compass' disk stopped its whirling dance and the needle abruptly pointed to the south-east: it was the direction where was the thing Jack wanted the most...
"Ah-ah!" exclaimed Jack with a stentorian voice.
"What is it?" asked Red Hand Pete.
Jack climbed down the smaller crate with a triumphant look on his face.
"Captain, we have our heading for the Dead Man's Chest!"
"What? That's impossible!" said Long, making one of his broken teeth fall out of his mouth in a splash of saliva and blood.
"Shut up, Long!" barked Red Hand Pete. "It seems Silver had succeeded where you have failed! You and your fancy ideas! Come with me, Silver, we have to consult the charts in my cabin to find out in which land the Dead Man's Chest is buried, before the disk starts turning again."
"Do not worry about that, Captain! The needle won't move until we'll find the heart. It is part of its magic to point steadily towards a great wish until it is fulfilled!"
"Let's go!" roared the Conqueror's commander. "Long, get your worthless bum out of the floor and come with us, you'll prepare my dinner! Silver, you'll join me."
"With pleasure, Captain!" said Jack who smiled widely, even though he was thinking what exactly Red Hand Pete could do with his dinner.
At the same moment, Will moaned as panic seized him: he had heard Jack's exclamation and he had jumped at the wrong conclusion, that he had unconsciously betrayed the location of the Dead Man's Chest. The words of comfort whispered in his ears had been nothing but a trap. The monsters had found a way to make him talk! Red Hand Pete would murder his family to steal the chest! The pirates would kill Elizabeth and Little William, burn their house to the ground, and he couldn't do anything to prevent it!
"No… NO!" desperately cried Will in the darkness of the orlop deck; he tried to struggle against his bounds but the chain just dug deeper in his arms' flesh and the horrid contact of the soil on his lower body worsened, making it feel he was pierced by red-hot irons. Vanquished by the agony and the grief, the young Turner's body went slack and his eyes closed again, completely spent.
Red Hand Pete smiled at his captive's obvious distress: another proof that Silver's instrument was pointing towards the right direction! But before he could congratulate his new associate on a job well done, the pale-faced man climbed on the box again, grabbed Turner by the scruff of his neck and said to the youngster's face, loud enough for anyone to hear him:
"You didn't have a chance against my magical compass, whelp. Knowledge is power, savvy?"
Unknowingly to Red Hand Pete and Long, Jack lightly stroke Will's nape under the dirty locks of hair, just before jumping down the box to follow his new "employer" and the unlucky Chinese. The orlop deck went dark and silent for an indefinite moment of time, troubled only by the sounds of rats' paws scratching behind the wooden walls and the creaking of the ship; but then, a feeble voice muttered in the gloom:
"W-Whelp…….. Sav-vy?"
TBC! ;-)