Disclaimer: the same as before.

Author's notes:

- To Candi: thank you very much! I am glad you think I've written appropriate lines for CJS, and you guessed right, Will is glowing because hope has returned for him…

- To Ana: don't fall from your chair! Here comes the new chapter :o)

- To Smithy: hi there! To answer your question, RHP doesn't care about feelings, he just wants gold and power... In fact, I doubt he ever felt anything in his life.

- In Latin, "Veni, vidi, vici" mean "I came, I saw, I conquered": those words were attributed to Julius Caesar after his victorious campaign against Pharmace, King of Bosphorus (47 B.C.).

- A little precision about Chapter 20: Red Hand Pete didn't take any of the Aztec gold, therefore he isn't cursed. In COTBP, the curse fell on people who had pocketed the coins out of thievery. However, Pete's greedy men did steal some of the gold so they are cursed, but their new condition will be revealed only under the moonlight! And I cannot reveal why Jack had made such a complex plan for now… ;-)

Chapter 21: Free Will

Aboard the Conqueror…

Jack made a vertiginous descent with his flag-cape flowing in the wind, and for all his wild-thinking he managed to land safely on the upper deck. Ammand and Bill would come soon to board the Conqueror, but unfortunately Red Hand Pete had good chances to arrive even sooner on his ship and express a lot of dissatisfaction about his trip on Isla de Muerta… For Jack's plan to succeed, he had to go down the orlop deck at once and free Will while the Conqueror's sailors were busy preparing for the galley's upcoming boarding. Bill and Ammand's corsairs would attack the brig in no time and Jack had to prevent Red Hand Pete to use his hostage's life to save his sorry skin.

But as soon as he stepped on the planks with the lookout man's sword in his hand, Taylor's voice rang out:

"Silver!"

Jack rolled his eyes heavenwards, whispering an exasperated "Bugger!" between his teeth once again, and then he turned around with a lazy and insolent attitude to ask: "Yes? I am Captain Jack Sparrow, at your disservice!"

"S-Sparrow? What kinda name is d-d-dat? What inna world are ya doin' with da J-J-J-Jolly Roger? What is g-goin' on?" asked the quartermaster, his breath reeking from alcohol and looking bug-eyed at the slender man who had jumped from the crow's nest, wrapped in their colors. Apparently, the man thought he was having a bad case of delirium tremens!

"Oh, good grief! People employed on this brig really have a common tendency to ask stupid questions when they're drunk. I'm starting to have serious doubts about your leadership qualities, Mister Taylor: what kind of a quartermaster are you? Why would you worry about a black rag - which has received the great honor to be worn by the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow, by the way - while a Turkish galley is appearing at astern with the evident intention to attack the ship temporarily placed under your responsibility? In this kind of perilous situation, a wise quartermaster would ask for his immediate superior… unless the said superior is too far away, of course! So it only leaves you, Mister Taylor, the possibility to call out for your dear Captain and ask him for orders… a fat lot of good it would do you, though, since you're already doomed to feed the fishes!"

Taylor's face turned purple and he clumsily got his flintlock pistol out of his weapons' belt, but Jack was quicker: one swift kick and his foot slammed against Taylor's wrist; the weapon flew through the air in a graceful ellipse before landing right into Jack's hand. Just like for the lookout man, Taylor found himself staring at the business end of his own pistol in a blink of an eye!

"Now, you inebriated eunuch, go ahead and try to organize a hopeless resistance against the Seref's imminent assault, and don't bother me any more with your imbecilic interrogations. Savvy?"

Thinking he was dealing with a complete madman, Taylor just nodded before fleeing on the upper deck as fast as he could! One look at the horizon made his face change its color from red to white: a galley, coming from one of the island's many promontories, was indeed sailing right in the direction of the Conqueror's aft. The brig was still immobilized on the reef and the repairs weren't finished! Whatever the galley came for, wherever the men onboard were outlaws or governments' representatives, it wouldn't be good for Red Hand Pete's men… and their Captain was in a longboat, too far away to give his instructions!

The quartermaster panicked and started yelling contradictory orders, leaving his shipmates in a state of absolute confusion: "Clear t-t-the decks for actions! Raise the s-s-sails! Everyone to the cap'stan! Raise t-the anchor! Unfurl the mainsail! S-S-Secure the sails! Brail u-up! The outer jib! A-Abandon ship! The f-f-f-fore staysail! Full s-speed!"

"But Mister Taylor!" said one man, "We cannot move; we've run aground!"

"What?!" exclaimed the quartermaster, acting as if he hadn't been aware of the Conqueror's accident early in the morning, and some sailors looked at each other, silently wondering about the man's state of mind.

While the crew aboard was getting slightly puzzled trying to decipher Taylor's instructions, Jack silently headed for the stairs below the deck, making a big effort to not burst out laughing: he really had a natural-born talent to spread confusion amongst Red Hand Pete's drunken idiots! But somehow, it was logical: only a man who happened to be both an idiot and a disciple of Bacchus would willingly accept to serve under that brig's mast!

As on cue, Roberts the superstitious sailor sprang out from the cooking galley to yell accusingly at "John Silver":

"I knew you'd bring us bad luck! I knew it!"

"Didn't your mother tell you that it is very rude to point to someone with your index finger?" asked Jack nonchalantly, before disappearing below deck through its trap door.

He was ready for action: he had a sword, a pistol, a hatchet and his treasure-bag. All he needed to find was Will… and a flagon full of rum, if possible!

Aboard the Seref…

Unlike the Conqueror's seamen, the Turkish corsairs had been ready to fight for hours. Their weapons were clean, their swords were razor-like, the guns were just waiting to be fired and each man knew his post – including the six exiled by Barbossa. Marty the vertically-challenged pirate was holding a shotgun that was almost twice his size; Cotton had a cutlass in his hand, and his parrot had prudently decided to perch itself out of firing range, on one of the mainmast's yardarms. Pintel and Ragetti had been put in charge of one cannon, and they had stopped arguing for about an hour. Even Wang Tao, the Chinese spy/executioner, was standing on the upper deck, looking completely cool and collected; his bald head was shining under the sun like a ball of polished ivory. Only Murtogg and Mulroy had gone out of sight with the orders to "help the surgeon", since their presence was more a hindrance than a help in combat.

Ammand looked proudly at his crewmembers: their resolution was fierce and there were no traces of fear in their eyes. The men on rowing duty were breaking their backs on the oars, giving the Seref a good speed which was increasing with a clocklike regularity. Today, he would avenge his cousin's death and the wounds he has sustained in Istanbul after Red Hand Pete's treachery, and no one would ever try to betray Ammand the Pirate Lord of the Black Sea again! Eduardo Villanueva would have nightmares after he'd learn about his rival's victory in the Caribbean Sea!

Ammand looked at the granite-faced tall man standing at the prow. Bootstrap Bill, armed to the teeth, was staring at the Conqueror while gripping at the galley's rail with such force the wood was in danger of splitting up. At least, they were attacking the brig which had haunted Bill's dreams for a week! Finally, he would be able to jump aboard it and retrieve his son! Bill silently swore to leave the Conqueror only with Will in his arms and his sword blackened to the hilt with Red Hand Pete's blood, or die in the attempt. He would never leave those waters without his child! His determination was making his features look quite grim, but the elder Turner couldn't possibly care less about it.

He suddenly felt aware of Ammand's presence near him and the Turk's golden-brown eyes locked themselves in Bill's blue gaze.

"For your oğul (son) and my yeğen (cousin), Master Bootstrap," said Ammand.

Bill didn't need translation to understand the words spoken in Turkish. But the tension he was feeling was too intense for him to unclench his jaw. He simply nodded, hoping it would be enough to express his gratitude towards the Pirate Lord, and Ammand merely smiled. Then the Seref's Captain spotted something on the water, and a ferocious predator's grin appeared on his lips.

"Master Bootstrap, it seems Red Hand Pete has obligingly placed himself at our shooting range. What says ye we use that longboat carrying our worst enemy as target practice for our guns?"

Bill Turner nodded again, and Ammand yelled:

"YUSUF! Longboat to starboard! ATEŞ! (FIRE)!"

Inside the Conqueror…

Jack had managed to reach the brig's bowels, without bothering to grab a lantern. He counted on his hawk-eyes to warn him about obstacles or ambushed adversaries, but this part of his plan had worked to the perfection: the Conqueror's sailors, overly concerned by the sudden apparition of the Seref, were too busy trying to load the ship's cannons in the gun decks to bother glancing at "John Silver" worming his way downstairs; besides, the black Jolly Roger was making an efficient cloak for discretion. Consequently, the trip had been easy – apart from bumping once or twice against discarded items: what an unkempt vessel! The commander in Jack was revolted by such sloppiness: when he was leading the Black Pearl, things were shipshape... well, almost!

Jack had also taken the opportunity to quickly check on every bottle lying around on the floors, but it had turned out to be a disappointment: not a drop of rum had been left inside! Obviously, the shipmates had taken advantage of their Captain's absence to organize a little party onboard, which would explain why the man on lookout duty and Taylor had been so wasted. Red Hand Pete, too focused on finding Will's heart, had completely neglected order and discipline aboard his ship. Bad tactical error from a would-be future Emperor of the Oceans!

Jack quickly climbed down the narrow stairs, taking great care to not twist his ankles in the steps by accident, and he finally reached the orlop deck. The light was very dim in there so he had to stop for an instant to adjust his vision; but then Captain Jack Sparrow's eyes widened at the sight greeting him: Will Turner was feebly struggling against his bounds and his upper body was… glowing?

"That's impossible! I'm seeing things from not drinking enough rum!" thought Jack, but the recognizable sounds of men preparing for combat upstairs didn't allow him to ponder further about his eyes or his friend's ability to shine. Raising the pistol, he aimed at the chain tied to the beam and fired: metallic links were dismantled under the ball's impact and the young Turner let out a low groan after his arms hit the soil filling the crate, finally released from the forced upright position they had been submitted to for days.

The shot made Shiao Long jump inside his cage, and he looked incredulously as "John Silver", a smoking pistol in hand and a black-and-white cape tied to his shoulders, jumped on the smaller crate the Chinese had used as stepping-stone while torturing Turner. The man's face wasn't pallid anymore and he was calling out for the prisoner. What was going on?

"WILLIAM! Will, it's me!" said Jack, patting his friend's face. "Come on, whelp, have a reaction, will ya? It is I, the great Captain Jack Sparrow! I know you're in here, talk to me!"

Only silence answered him: for all the determination inherited from his father, Will had been plunged in a world of hurt for too long and the recent freeing of his arms had sent shooting pains through his torso, making him struggle for air. He coughed weakly, his eyes rolling wildly under his closed lids. The light radiating from his body flickered dangerously, like the flame of a candle in danger of being snuffed by stormy winds. Jack quickly understood Turner had to be freed from the crate at once, otherwise he would suffocate. Climbing down the box, the Black Pearl's former Captain took out the hatchet from his belt and swung it at the lumber pieces constructing Red Hand Pete's torture device.

SMASH.

SMASH.

SMASH.

The merciless tool shattered the wood planks nailed at the top edge of the container, and soil flowed on the orlop deck's dirty floor. Will's earlier effort of digging beneath the earth with his feet hadn't been in vain: it had loosened the compact mass, allowing it to fall out of the crate with the easiness of an hourglass' sand transferring from one transparent bulb to another. Jack also noted the soil had been turned over since his last visit, and it didn't take long for his powerful brains to understand the young Turner had somehow tried to wriggle his way out of the soil, thus facilitating his upcoming release; and all this in spite of his immense sufferings!

"The kid has a will of iron… He's definitively worthy to be my adopted sibling," thought Captain Jack Sparrow.

The axe soon broke many planks to create an opening wide enough to let large amounts of soil pouring from the crate, freeing the captive's waist; Jack climbed again on the smaller box, grabbed the wounded man under the arms and jerked him hard. Will was pulled out from his prison in an explosion of dirt, but the momentum made Jack loose his footing and sent both men crashing down. Jack hit the wooden floor hard on his back, his spinal cord protesting against the rough treatment. Will landed on his stomach and he gasped in pain. But Captain Jack Sparrow had taken worst falls in his life – like when he had tumbled off the Black Pearl's helm while taunting Davy Jones; he shook his head like a wet dog, jumped back on his feet and then he gathered Will in his arms to take him away from the soil which kept on flowing abundantly from the crate. After they had reached a safe distance from the hurtful element, Jack gently lowered the young Turner on the floor.

"Oh God, the poor kid," thought Jack, revolted and horrified at the sight of the naked, tortured body displayed under the meager light of the unique lantern. Will looked even worse than the first time Jack had seen him shackled and half-buried in the crate. His face, arms and torso were just a bloodied mess, saturated with whiplashes, burns and open wounds; his abdomen and legs were maculated with dirt and covered with bruises; it was obvious he had lost a lot of weight and he probably had nothing to drink for days. His forehead was hot to the touch and some of the cuts had started festering. Only his immortal status could explain the fact he was still breathing.

Jack glanced around and his dark eyes flashed in anger after he noticed a pile of clothes, carelessly tossed in a corner. No doubts they belonged to William and Red Hand Pete had confiscated them in a diabolical way to make sure his prisoner would suffer greatly from the direct contact of soil on his bare skin.

"Will? Come on, kiddo, talk to me," pleaded Jack, kneeling beside the injured man. "Please, whelp, wake up! I haven't made such a prodigious plan to rescue you if you're not awake to witness it. I don't think I am erring too much if I presume you want out of this ship, and by coincidence I'd like to do the same. So I'd like to propose an association to unite our forces and act like the proverbial rats fleeing the sinking vessel. Do you agree? Fine! Since we have an accord, please open your eyes and say: "Let's go"! I've brought some friends and they are outside, waiting for us and getting ready to blow the Conqueror to pieces. Now that's the kind of show which is better watched from a good distance for the preservation of our invaluable persons, if you get my meaning. So how about you wake up and we get out of this stinking place?"

But Will couldn't answer, too hurt and too exhausted to realize he had just been freed from the crate. His lungs were working again but the pain felt in his arms was unbearable, making him loose consciousness at times. His vision was blurry and his ears couldn't comprehend the words spoken to him. Realizing Will needed a few minutes to recover his senses, Jack left his side for a minute and rushed to the corner to pick up the discarded clothes.

But he was in for a bad surprise when he took the garments: they had been shredded, torn beyond repair. Red Hand Pete's work, probably, since he had wanted the Dead Man's Chest key as much as the coffer and the blond-haired bastard had ripened the clothes in order to find it. The moron would never have guessed the Captain of the Flying Dutchman had entrusted the famous key to his father's care! Only the deep green bandana had survived the lynching: it was the same one Jack had seen Will wearing it around his head after the maelstrom battle. He quickly pocketed the bandana; it would be useful in case he'd have to call for extra reinforcements. Then, he untied the Jolly Roger from his shoulders and used it to brush the dirt off Will's waist, legs and the sole of his feet.

Jack worked quickly; it was a matter of minutes before the Seref and the Conqueror would exchange heated arguments in the form of cannonballs. In fact, judging from the cannonade fired outside the hull, it seemed the attack had already begun. And there was still the risk of being caught on the act of freeing the prisoner! He cleaned the young man's lower body as best as he could under the circumstances, cursing the fact that no water was available in the orlop deck. But at least, William would suffer a bit less after some soil incrusted in his skin was brushed away. It would have to do before he'd be back aboard the Flying Dutchman and receive proper medical care from Bootstrap Bill.

While hastily removing the dirt, Jack breathed a sigh of relief: apparently, Will had been spared the ignominy of rape. He already knew his intervention two days ago had prevented Shiao Long from "working" on Will's private parts. But Jack Sparrow had sailed many years on troubled waters; he was quite aware of the sexual abuses inflicted by pirates on their captives… and William Turner II happened to be young, beautiful and momentarily paralyzed, making him an easy prey for gutless scumbags. But that coward Red Hand Pete had wanted to make absolutely sure Will couldn't flee the Conqueror and it had implied to never get him out of the crate – Long had learned about the imperativeness of that order the hard way!

Jack stood up to shake the Jolly Roger like a sheet, and the accumulated particles of dirt fell easily on the orlop deck's floor. Then he wrapped the flag around Will's body, securing it around the waist by tying long scraps of leather which used to be the young man's belt. Jack would have preferred to use a cleaner cloth, but there wasn't one on sight and he couldn't loose a second. The Jolly Roger would preserve Will's modesty while they'd flee the brig to hop aboard the Seref. Captain Sparrow's little brother just couldn't be rescued while wearing only his birthday suit!

Will remained inert during Jack's ministrations; his eyes were still closed, and the scruffiest pirate of the Caribbean was getting very worried: if his friend was too weak to stand up, Jack wouldn't have any other choices than to carry him all the way up to the Conqueror's main deck, and it'd make their escape go slower. Jack wasn't a man gifted with oversized muscles and Will's dead weight would be troublesome to deal with while climbing up abrupt stairs or running through narrow corridors. For Captain Jack Sparrow's dashing rescue plan to work Captain Turner had to be on his feet… but it looked like he had reached his limits.

Suddenly, a tidal wave of sound made the brig shake violently from the keel to the mainmast's top: the Seref's guns had spoken. The attack had definitively begun.

Outside the Conqueror…

Red Hand Pete thought he had gone mad: one minute he was in one of the Conqueror's longboat, rowing hard towards his ship to murder that double-crosser of a Captain Jack Sparrow, and the next minute he was in the ocean's waters, swimming for his life!

Too focused on the subject of his wrath, who had dared to mislead him on a wild-goose chase before fleeing Isla de Muerta on a wind-powered sliding contraption, Red Hand Pete had completely forgotten his surroundings. He had neither bothered listening to his men's complains about breaking their backs on the oars, nor to the cries of alarm from the shipmates aboard the brig. The only thing that had mattered for him was getting his revenge against Sparrow, and it had completely blinded him. Then, finally realizing that danger was near, Red Hand Pete had turned around… just in time to see a ship firing straight at them!

There had been an explosion of water and wood planks as the cannonball had hit directly the longboat, and it had sunk instantly. Three men had been killed and the survivors – amongst them Jefferson, Burke and Maxwell – were swimming back to Isla de Muerta, which was closer and safer, while yelling their heads off about sharks and how the Aztec gold coins in their pockets were weighting them down. The Conqueror's commander noted that none of them had the idea to check on their Captain, too busy to save their worthless lives; Maxwell, the sailor who had pretended being unable to swim, was the first one to reach the island's beach. Bunch of traitors!

Red Hand Pete had barely the time to plunge into the water before the cannonball hit the longboat, and this diving had saved his life. He had resurfaced through the boat's debris to take a look at their aggressor; his face paled considerably when he realized it was a Turkish three-mast galley with a dark gray-colored hull with violet shades…. And he recognized the tall silhouette of a man standing at the prow, an embroidered cloak flowing in the wind.

By all the demons of Hell! Ammand the Corsair! The Seref was attacking them!

Red Hand Pete wasted no time trying to understand how his long-time enemy had managed to find him in the Caribbean, miles and miles away from the Black Sea. The connection between Ammand and that cunning devil Sparrow was clear enough: the two men had conspired against him! The Turk certainly wanted to settle accounts about that silly business in Istanbul; as for Sparrow, he probably just wanted to rob him.

Well, Red Hand Pete wasn't the kind of man to surrender to his enemies! While his men fought to the death defending the Conqueror, their Captain would discreetly swim until he'd reach the brig's stern. Then he'd climb the sculptures decorating it – unknowingly taking the same way Jack used to spy on the brig – break one of the windows to discreetly slip inside the Great Cabin. All this to gather his belongings and some stashed money, and then Red Hand Pete would abandon his ship. The smallest dinghy was tied in tow, just below the Great Cabin, and it would be easy to cut its rope and disappear below the horizon. His flight would be unnoticed and the sailors would simply think their Captain had drowned after the longboat had been hit.

His decision made, Red Hand Pete dove again in the safety of the salty water's depths and headed for his ship's stern. Even underwater, he could hear the sounds of the Conqueror's guns firing back at their opponent.

"Good, men. Very good. Keep on fighting for your Captain who needs to grab his travelling money before getting out of here…" thought the unconcerned commander.

The cannonade's sound was getting stronger outside the hull; Ammand and Bill were very close to board the Conqueror. But it could also mean Red Hand Pete had managed to climb back aboard his ship and organize a defense better than the bumbling Taylor. Things were definitively heating up and they had to get out of the orlop deck!

Jack was cradling Will in his arms, mindful of the injuries on his upper body. Gently rocking the semi-conscious young man, he said:

"Come on, whelp, talk to me. It unnerves me to see you so lifeless, savvy? Please, Will? I know you've been hurt; and you are probably still hurting a lot. You've cried a lot in the darkness of this deck, haven't you? Red Hand Pete will pay for all the torment he gave you. He doesn't know it yet, but he's a dead man. Dead and Buried Pete, that's going to be his new nickname pretty soon. Right now, I want you to wake up. And don't waste your breath by saying nonsense, in the lines of: "Leave me here… Let me die in peace"! You cannot die, Will, and I won't allow you to die. This isn't your hour. In fact, I'll never allow you to die. That's a direct order from Captain Jack Sparrow and you'd better follow it! Also, I happen to know a very determined old man who is probably gutting out every sailor crossing his path to find you. Not to mention an equally determined young woman, who would kick my posterior all the way from here to Cape Horn if she ever learns I've failed freeing you. William?"

Jack added with a lower voice, "I need you, William; I need your loyalty in my life. Captain Jack Sparrow is lost without his sidekick; there, I've said it! Happy, now? You're my favorite Turner, but if you tell anyone I've said so, I'll deny it. You're the only one who has ever convinced me that real friendship existed in this world. I'll never forget the day you've saved me from the gallows: you shielded me from the bayonets pointed at us while making a stand against Norrington! You could have been hanged on the spot for aiding a pirate, and yet you've never hesitated. No one, not even Bootstrap Bill, would have taken such risks for me. I've considered you my kid brother since that day, even if I haven't been a good big brother to you afterwards – blame it on Davy Jones, the only creature in the world who has given me the creeps. For now, let's concentrate on the immediate imperatives, meaning leaving this ship. Come on, Will, wake up for Bill, for Lizzie… and for me, huh?"

Will suddenly gasped, and then his eyes snapped open. A hacking cough shook his body all over but, unbelievably, the pain which had been relentlessly crushing his legs for days had somehow decreased. He remembered something or someone grabbing him before being pulled, but the movement had hurt so much he had wrongly thought it another torture from Shiao Long, before darkness had threatened to overwhelm him again.

Will realized he was lying down on a hard, soil-free surface and a dark sheet had been tied around his waist in an effort to clothe him. He was out of the crate, but by what miracle? He felt an arm cushioning his neck, a hand stroking his matted hair, and a voice said:

"That's it, whelp! You've done it! You're a tough one, eh? Resilience, it runs in our family. I'd offer you some rum, but on this nutshell it is hard to find some. It's going to be a pleasure sending this oceanic detritus down to the Locker, for sure! In the meantime, who about you and me getting out of here and taking part to the rumble?"

The words sounded familiar, the voice as well, and that strong smell of rum… Will slowly moved his head and forced his eyes to focus; he saw a man's face hovering above him. In spite of the shorter hair and goatee, the lack of kohl and the absence of baubles hanging from braids, the young Turner recognized the luminous eyes and the sarcastic smile of Captain Jack Sparrow.

"J-J-Jack?" asked Will in a whisper.

"Aye, kid, it's me. You've made me run quite a lot, ya know? Not to mention making my brains work night and day! You'll buy me a rum distillery in Tortuga and it'll settle the debts between us. And by the way, where did you get that glowing trick?"

"J-Jack?" said Will again, rising a trembling hand to brush his friend's face. The Black Pearl's former Captain noticed with horror that most of Will's nails had been torn off his fingers. "Y-you're… h-here?"

"You bet I am!" said Jack proudly, hiding his amazement about the pale light radiating from Will. "Captain Jack Sparrow is always where people expect him the last! That is part of my irresistible charm. I appear out of nowhere to pounce on my enemies like the hawk on the helpless mouse and to spook out my acquaintances just for fun – too bad it never worked on Scarlet and Giselle, it would have spared me from receiving a few undeserved slaps! Anyway, how about you getting on your feet, baby bro, and we scram out of here?"

"Jack… I k-knew you'd… c-c-come…"

The eccentric pirate felt his throat tightening at those words: oh, the depths of the kid's trust in him! What had he ever done in his life to deserve such indefectible loyalty from William Turner Junior? And what would be the consequences for his reputation; would people remember his glamorous legend only as the Trustworthy Captain Jack Sparrow? Perish the thought…

"Aye, "Veni, vidi, vici" like Julius Caesar used to say, but to "Vici" completely we have to move. Your father is terribly worried about you, and I feel I have outstayed Red Hand Pete's welcome, savvy?"

Tears gathered in Will's chocolate-brown eyes, and Jack tightened his hold on his friend.

"Will? Kiddo, what is it?"

"M-My f-f-father… killed… D-D-Dutchman's g-gone…"

Astonished, Jack looked at the wounded young man with rounded eyes: why on Earth would William say such a thing? And then, he remembered Bootstrap Bill telling him in Tortuga about the attack on the Flying Dutchman by the fake Benevolent after Will's kidnapping. Intoxicated by his success, Red Hand Pete had neglected to sink the Soul Vessel: another fatal mistake from that overconfident oddball, but he certainly hadn't missed an occasion to boast about the Dutchman's apparent destruction!

Another volley thundered, and the sound was much violent than the first ones.

"Listen, William. I'll explain it to you later, but I wanna tell you this right now: your father's alive. He's attacking the Conqueror as we speak, along with an associate of mine. I have sworn to Bill that I'd bring you back to him, so don't make me a bigger liar than I already am, savvy?"

The firing sounds muffled Jack's declaration, but the pirate couldn't wait for the young man to acknowledge his words. Yells and screams could be heard from the orlop deck, meaning Ammand's boarding was imminent. Jack didn't want to hang around to see how it would end!

"All right, now you get on your feet, whelp. One, two, three, heave oh!"

He stood up and hauled the wounded man on his feet: Will cried out in pain, and if not for Jack's help he would have fallen right back on the floor. Jack quickly draped Will's right arm across his shoulders, before wrapping his own arm around the young man's waist. Then he marched onward, supporting the dead weight of William Turner while trying to ignore his moans and grunts.

"I'm sorry, William, but we cannot remain here. You're hurting, I know, and I'm sorry about that but we can't escape one step at a time – more like showing a clean pair of heels, savvy? But I know you'll survive, you can do anything since you have benefited from my stupendous teachings. So let's show to this bunch of inarticulate scallywags what real pirates are made of! Today, you and I are the fantastic Pirates of the Caribbean!"

"A-Am n-n-not… p-pirate," said Will between gritted teeth, his face pressed against Jack's neck. His legs were shaking terribly from the efforts he made to try walking, but he somehow managed to stay on his feet.

"Oh yes, you are! You wear the Jolly Roger, you are the son of a pirate, the husband of a female Pirate King and the brother of the accomplished Captain Jack Sparrow; what other proofs do you need? It's quite an impressive pedigree for a humble blacksmith from Port Royal, when you think about it – especially about the part concerning me!"

"Bro… B-Brother…" said Will, and he managed to smile.

"Aye, kiddo: you are my little brother," confirmed Jack, and he was immensely prideful after Will's hand steal into his and gave him a small shake. Their fingers locked together like iron, sealing their friendship for all eternity.

But as they were passing nearby the cell, cruel laughter made the two men stop on their tracks: Shiao Long was watching them, gripping at the bars of his cells; his eyes were shining with malevolence and he had a nasty smile on his lips, showing the bloodied stumps of his teeth.

"What a touching picture you make!" hissed the Chinaman. "A lousy pirate pretends being intelligent enough to leave the board unnoticed, while helping the so-called Captain of the Soul Vessel!"

Will moaned loudly after he heard Long's words, remembering too well this hateful voice which had taunted him during the torture sessions. Jack squeezed tightly the hand of the traumatized young man, and then he asked disdainfully:

"You're talking to me, vomit voice? And who said you could address to the incredible Captain Jack Sparrow?"

"The incredible Captain Liar, yes, I've heard about you. The famous laughing stock of the whole piracy world! A vagrant with the personal hygiene of a pig, the courage of a mouse and the drunkenness of a baboon, inventing stories about exploits that had never existed in the first place! You silver-tongued rat, I knew you were nothing but a storyteller from the very first time I saw you, unlike that credulous Red Hand Pete who is probably calling himself the Emperor of Idiots. I don't know what enraged Sao Feng more about you: the trick you've played on him, or the fact he had been had by such a lousy pirate bearing a ridiculous bird's name."

"I won't stoop so low as to talk to you, Squeaky Looser. But speaking of Sao Feng, you might be interested in learning I've been acquainted with his delicious sister during my stay in Singapore, some years ago. After a few romantic nights, she told me all of her family tree: from ancestors who died 2,000 years ago to our troubled times we live in, but she also said Sao Feng was the unique son of their shared parents… So my curiosity was aroused after someone revealing your lies about you being his brother. My, but you are blanching, prognathous pest!"

"Who… who told you about me?" stuttered Long, a feeling of dread running down his spine.

"Oh come on now, you wouldn't want to listen to the laughing stock of the piracy world, would you?" and Jack felt Will coughing against his chest, in a weak attempt to laugh.

"WHO TOLD YOU ABOUT ME?" screamed the Chinese, getting more and more panicky by the minute.

"The correct formulation is: "Who told you about my abject person, exceptional Captain Jack Sparrow?". Tsk, tsk, what a terrible lack of manners! No wonder your family disowned you, according to one of your relatives I had the pleasure to meet and who gave me interesting information about you… A pleasant fellow with a remarkable talent for acrobatics, named Wang Tao. Ah, I can see you haven't forgotten your cousin! He's currently attacking the Conqueror with my allies. He told us about a "message" he had to deliver from your clan's elders, and I doubt it's only a remonstrance about a disgusting slug pretending to be a sibling of Sao Feng. Just sit still and be happy, you'll be having a family reunion soon!"

With this last repartee, Jack tightened his hold on his friend and the two men headed for the orlop deck's stairs, leaving behind them a very confused and very frightened Shiao Long inside his cell. But as soon as they reached the first steps, Will's legs buckled under him and he nearly collapsed. His eyes rolled back in their sockets and the glow emanating from his body decreased to the point of being almost extinguished.

"William!" exclaimed Jack. "No, no! Now's not the time for weaknesses! We have to climb our way out of here! WILLIAM, FIGHT IT! You can do it, mate, I know you can! If you won't want to survive for me, do it for Bill and Lizzie! Please!"

But the younger Turner was completely boneless, vanquished by his wounds, the tortures and the starvation. Jack looked hopelessly around, desperately trying to find a mean to revive his brother or to facilitate the climbing of the stairs, but this time his mind was completely blank. Then he heard a creaking noise above his head and he instinctively pointed his unloaded pistol in the general direction of the ceiling.

The head of a sailor had appeared through the square-shaped opening cut in the lower gun deck's floor, at the top of the stairs and the intruder was looking right at them. He had a white beard and unkempt silver strands were escaping from a knitted cap. The wrinkles on his weathered face crinkled kindly as he smiled, and Jack wondered if the old man was out of his mind: how could he be happy at the sight of his Captain's guest rescuing their prisoner? Or maybe he somehow had guessed that Jack's pistol was empty! But the sea dog simply extended his hand towards Jack in a gesture expressing assistance and discretion.

"Can I 'elp ya saving 'im, Guv'nor?" asked Tony.

TBC…