Part the first of the escape mission from Shipwreck had been complete, but we were only halfway toward achieving our full initiative: We still had to retrieve the Dauntless. By the time we left the prison, which by that point was a disorderly mess with guards and Naval officers running amok with conflicting orders to discover who had infiltrated their fortress, conked out several of their men, stolen the apparel of one lieutenant, and seemingly made no other alteration to the prison's integrity whatsoever. There was no guarantee that Carina would escape, but we had least enabled her to do so.
The sun was rising as we made our way out of town and back towards the shipyard, and was well up by the time we staked out a new place on the hillside overlooking the docks where we were to lay siege shortly.
After upwards of fifteen or so minutes in silence observance of the placid scene below us, with two on duty officers standing alert as was expected, the adrenaline from the past evening's adventure began to eat at me. "Maybe we missed the shift changeover?" I questioned. "Maybe we should just go down there right now and get it over with—"
Father rolled his eyes, taking off the tricorn hat he had stolen and placing it on my head, forcing the front edge down over my eyes to silence me. "Patience, General Impulsive," he teased. "What if the changeover hasn't occurred and we go down there just as it is about to begin? Then it's four against two."
Pushing up the brim of the hat, I replied in exasperation, "Didn't seem like much of a problem in the prison for you to go up against numerous people."
He gave me a sidelong glance. "And I'll have you know these are very different circumstances. That was in a confined area in the dark, this is daylight out in the open. We are already at a disadvantage."
I sighed, inwardly knowing he was right and we had to stick to the exact plan we had preordained, though my impatience nagged at me. After a moment, I snarkily added, "I'm keeping this hat. You relinquished it, it's mine now."
He smirked. "You'll hear no protests from me there," he sassily retorted.
Our smiles fell as we saw movement from below, though not the changeover we expected. Five officers raced past the docks, causing the two on guard to move towards them in curiosity.
"What's happened?" one asked.
"What hasn't happened?" a breathless reply stated. "There was a bloody break-in to the prisons last night, now the bank opening's gone amiss!"
"Gone amiss?" the other questioned.
"We've heard that the blazing thing just…took off! It's racing through town as we speak! I swear this entire island's gone to hell!"
Father and I exchanged a glance, knowing immediately who was behind the heist—Jack! Clearly, the Gull crew had taken my advice to heart.
As the men began to race off towards their new heading, one of the two on duty officers called out, "Should we come with you?"
"No!" their leader called back. "Stay posted until further notice!"
"Dammit," I cursed. "No changeover?"
"No, no," said father pensively, "This is to our advantage. They will be tired from the overnight watch, and peeved from this news. They won't be prepared to handle us."
"Handle you," I reminded him. "I'm taking the boat, remember? You're sure you can handle them on your own?"
With but a single skeptical eyebrow raise in response, I knew he'd be fine, between his swordsmanship and inability to die. "Alright," I murmured, unsheathing my sword, "Let's do this."
Upon our approach, I could discern that once more, these were the two thugs who had taken the Dauntless from me in the first place, and saw the red handle of my pistol in the holster on the pudgier one's belt. I seethed to see it in someone else's care, but her retrieval was not my prerogative. Stick to the plan, Norrington, I repeated to myself, though I couldn't resist being the first to grab their attention, much to the disdain of my father, who shot a peeved glare at me when I taunted, "Hello, boys! Remember me?"
They both raised their bayonets upon spotting us, but leapt back upon spotting Father. "GAH!" they cried out in alarm.
Swords raised, we stopped, the four of us squared off in our respective pairs. "I'll be taking my boat back, if you please." I stated firmly.
"Wills was right," the pudgy one said, voice high and trembling as he moved his finger over the trigger of his bayonet. "No one believed him, but he was right when he spoke of the undersea attacker at the tavern!"
I nearly leapt out of my skin when the pop of the gun exploded, which my father narrowly avoided with a swift duck as he cried, "Go, go, go!" With that, I hit the ground, somersaulting away from the action and racing towards the docks. I felt the bullet from the other bayonet whizz past my right foot, causing me to run in a serpentine pattern, but I knew I'd be safe now—bayonets took awhile to reload, and from the sound of it, Father was fully engaged in battle with the both of them, allowing my escape.
I sprinted across the docks, turning left towards the Dauntless, still as we had left her. Untying her, I gave a push off and leapt into her as she headed off into the open ocean once more. I then took a glance behind me, still seeing Father parrying against the two officers efficiently. I managed to get the sail rigged, catching an easterly wind that would have us sailing right towards our heading. Once secured, I looked back once more at the slowly receding St. Martin and was taken aback when I saw only the two officers, now tiny to my eye, racing about frantically in utter bewilderment. Just then, I felt the Dauntless rock precariously as Father transformed onto her.
I let out a triumphant holler when I realized that we had done it—we had successfully fulfilled our mission! There still remained many variables left up to fate, including Henry's whereabouts, Carina's future, Uncle Jack's in progress bank robbery, and of course, the one I wished to push far from my mind at the moment, Father and Will's ongoing curse. But at least, this one, minor victory felt as though it made all the difference in the world.
Breathless, Father even broke into a smile as he regained his bearings. After a moment of assessment, he commented, "We're far enough out of range for anyone to catch us for the moment, and thankfully your uncle's distraction will put all their limited forces' attention on him, blessedly. We might have just made a clean break." He then said sternly, "As long as we can keep up the pace. Are we headed in the proper direction?"
I instantly checked our small cargo hold, grinning when I found our compass and Henry's map, along with a few other provisions still entirely in tact. "Everything we need is all present and accounted for!" I said eagerly. "We need only sail now."
Father set his jaw and gave an uncertain groan. "You make it sound so simple," he said seriously. "We are in more danger out here than you know, so stay away from the sides and listen to exactly as I say, understood?"
Though I seethed at his frustratingly enigmatic vagueness, I didn't want to start another fight, so I ruefully conceded, "Alright."
He nodded, then procured and object and held it out towards me. "Also, I believe this is yours?" he asked.
I gasped when I saw the red wood, the scuffed metal… "My pistol!" I cried, grabbing it and holding it close to me. "Thank you so much!" I said with a grin. "You have no idea how devastated I was to have to give it up."
As I carefully traced my fingers along its shape, I felt him crane his neck to take a closer look at it himself. I offered it out for him to better inspect, and as he did so, I saw his expression soften. "When did you get this?" he asked curiously.
I shrugged. "A few years ago."
He shook his head. "No, I mean at what age?"
"Oh, thirteen," I corrected. "It was my thirteenth birthday."
He placed a hand atop the barrel and said softly to himself, "She remembered."
I raised my eyebrows and leaned closer towards him. "Sorry?"
"Nothing," he said louder, holding the pistol back out to me. "Come, trim that sail. You've fastened it poorly. It's a wonder you haven't snapped the entire mast altogether at this rate, tying it like that."
As we began our long journey home, the memory of his reaction to my pistol ate away at me. Only after months of prying would I find out the truth; that on one ordinary night aboard the Dutchman, my parents watched over me as I lay fast asleep in my hammock crib nearby them as they together postulated the sort of person I would become. There, my father detailed at what age he wanted me to have my first pistol—thirteen, just as he had been when he had received his. He wished cherrywood for me, something unique, something that demanded I take care of it. Mother had remembered, and she had made his wish for me a reality when the time was right. So in a way, he had always been there with me.
I awoke to a slight mist of seawater shower over my face, shielding my eyes from the warm sunlight as I opened them. After spending most of the day getting situated in the proper direction, my exhaustion from an entire night without sleep finally caught up to me, and I rested. Sitting up, I looked around at our surroundings—open water, save for one small, uninhabited island just a ways off. Hoarsely, I asked Father, "How long was I out?"
"Well, seeing as it's now late afternoon…" he replied.
"It is?" I cried in disbelief.
"You clearly needed it," he said.
"No trouble sailing on your own?"
He smirked. "No, I was able to manage this…highly complex vessel," he snarkily commented. "Shocking, I know. Though Mr. Turner's cartography was a bit more difficult to decipher," he said, holding up the parchment map Henry had drawn. "This is how you charted yourselves to St. Martin?"
I sat up on my knees to look at it with him. "I thought it was rather effective," I defended. "We made it, didn't we?"
He pursed his lips. "Which way did you go?" I showed him by tracing my finger along our route. "That?!" he cried. "No wonder it took you ages. No, see, I'm rather steering us on an alternate route that will put us days ahead of the pace. Why on Earth would you go that way?"
I shrugged, "Well it wasn't like we had sailed anywhere before! We did the best we could under the circumstances."
He folded the map, still looking skeptical. "It's a wonder you both didn't drown or capsize. You couldn't have stolen something a bit more…secure? Defensible?"
I smugly retorted, "I didn't steal her, we bought her. And she's all we could afford."
He looked slightly impressed at this, and after a moment asked, "The…Dauntless?"
My face glowed red again. "Henry's idea," I said, my gaze averted. "But…I was rather fond of it myself."
He was quiet for a moment, then softly said, "It's bad luck to name a vessel the same name as one that has capsized."
I looked back up at him. "How much worse could it really get?"
He tightened his jaw at this, and chose not to respond, changing the subject with, "One favor? The only time I'll make an exception to my 'no edges' rule." I nodded, as he ordered, "Hand in the water. To alert your mother of our whereabouts."
I obeyed, letting my fingertips graze the surface of the ocean as we sailed through. "Alright, that's enough," he said after a moment. "Not too long."
I sat back, hugging my knees into my chest. Now that we were on our own, the time I had left with my father felt evermore scarce. I perhaps had only days to get the truth out of him—the truth that could ultimately lead to his freedom and make this mission actually worth something. So, after several minutes of deliberation, I decided to take a massive risk, claiming a theory to be factual just to gauge his reaction.
"Grandfather told me, you know."
He looked up, brow furrowed in confusion.
"He told me who's keeping you."
I saw his face fall in anticipation of what I was about to say before the name left my mouth. "Don't-" he began.
"Davy Jones," I said simultaneously.
Just then, I felt the Dauntless shudder, and slow to a stop, the winds swirling unpredictably around us until growing still altogether. Wide-eyed, I looked to Father for answers, but he only stared at me, fearful.
"What have you done?"
