I know it's been a long wait- hopefully it's worth it.

After much deliberating, I have finally decided to add another chapter on to this tale. I have some ideas on where to put everything and everyone so that my ultimate goal with this story can be set into motion. But, as I am working mainly on my own fiction and striving towards my goals of publication, I have little time for fanfiction (no matter how delightfully interesting the subject matter may be.) If I update this tale again any time soon, it will be at a whim and because the fanfiction fairy whispered in my ear and drove me to it. I love this story and where I have managed to take Will's character, but odds are this is yet another tale that shall never see its completion. I mean, seriously, it takes a chapter to get through what the movie did in 5 minutes! ^_^

As always, reviews are much anticipated and greatly appreciated.

Until!

Ollie

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Devils and Black Sheep

By R.C. Carpenter

Chapter 5

Nighttime was a beautiful time. Captain Will Turner thought so at least. All of his fondest memories and favorite activities occurred at night. Oh the things that darkness could cover! One could pillaging, rape, murder, and plunder without that pesky sun to get in his eyes or the alarm being sounded upon his arrival. And who could truly remember the face of yet another pirate on a moonless evening? His flag would wave proud on the ship of course- there was really no need to be modest about such accomplishments- but, if ever they needed to hide, no one was going to be able to point them out in a crowd. Especially not a crowd of unruly, drunken, stammering heathens.

If he hadn't long ago learned to stop such boyish things, Captain Turner would have been giddy over the impending events. Port Royal, while not without its own seedy underbelly, was about to get the ravaging of a lifetime. Her inhabitants should count themselves as lucky, he thought. Not every colonial base gets the distinct honor of being ransacked by The Black Pearl.

As the Pearl and her crew drew ever closer to their destination, Will's thoughts turned back to other times. Better times or worse times, he could never be quite sure. His life could have been different, this he knew and felt with an unbridled abandon. Fate rode the young pirate fiercely, and he feared that looming doom. For what right had a pirate to live out his days in sunny splendor? The only fit end for a man such as himself was in glorious battle with a savage foe. They would clash their swords in a lightning duel. The dance would take them from one's ship to the other's and back again. Over planks and swung across ropes. The end Captain Turner envisioned for himself would be spoken of for years to come by all his mates. Perhaps the tale would lead to pirate legend and some would say his ghost even haunted the straight where they buried his body at sea.

Will closed himself up in his quarters.

The sad fact, he knew, was that a pirate had a few ways to go. Down in legend and myth wasn't typical.

At the end of a sword, bullet, or noose. Those were the most likely ways, and chances were that none would be honorable. If he was to die by another man's sword, Will prayed to whatever god he believed in that it would not be a mutinous man's doing. A bullet in the back he hoped to avoid. Though at unruly bars in the mangiest of places, he often envisioned a stray round planting itself in his brain.

Of all the ways of death that Will would strive to avoid, swinging from the end of a rope belonging to some pompous and smug King's servant was the least appealing. Even if it meant taking his own life, Will would not be 'made an example of' by any man who sought to claim his freedom.

And freedom was something that Will held dearly.

Since he had been found long ago, Will didn't have much. The last piece of his family that he had- a gold coin on a chain sent to him from his father- had been used to heal the Pearl's previous crew. He had nearly murdered Barbossa that day when the old scalawag had taken from him the one thing he had left in this world; the one thing that reminded him that he was William James Turner the second, only surviving son of a prominent and god-fearing sailor and his pious seamstress wife.

Again, he had almost murdered the man he would soon call Captain and Father when Barbossa had taken young Will aside to his personal quarters. Sitting in those very quarters at that moment, Will recalled what Barbossa had told him.

"I can see in your eyes that you have questions, Master Turner. Am I right?" The sea dog grinned, revealed teeth that were more black and green than yellow. Will had to be jabbed in the back by one of Barbossa's crewman before he could manage his reply. Barbossa continued, "I could let you shoot off your trap all day, boy, or I could answer the important questions for ye. First though, y'must eat."

He barked an order at the two men standing behind the boy. The men stepped outside and stood guard at the door.

Barbossa led Will to a table near the back of the main room. "Famished, eh?" he laughed. "Have a seat, young man."

With an uneasy heart, Will did as he was told. He had a feeling that whatever the punishment was for disobeying the captain's orders, he didn't want to find out first hand. At the table, he pulled out a chair to sit. Indeed, he was half-starved. The pirates had locked him below deck for a whole day and a half. He hadn't gotten so much as a crumb of bread, though they had allowed him the luxury of a cupful of rancid water. Now, sitting before the feast that was prepared at the old man's small dinner table, the hunger in Will's belly clawed at him. He reached for a roll immediately and bit it in two.

The captain of the black ship watched, enrapt.

He pushed forward a cup. Barbossa's voice was detached as he said, "Have some wine."

Will clasped his boy's hands around the cup and drank greedily. His father had let him have a glass of wine before and though his mother had scolded the both of them, Will was pretty sure no one was going to be doing that now. Had he been any less starved, the fleeting thought of his family would have pained him greatly. As it were, the need of the physical overpowered the musings of the emotional.

As Will ate, Barbossa seemed ever more intent upon watching him. He procured a flawless, shiny green apple. "And the apples? One of those next?"

The young boy looked up from the chicken leg he had been gnawing on. He took the apple in his hand and slowly raised it to his mouth, keeping his eyes on the old knave. He went to take a bite and Barbossa's mouth opened with his, then closed into an O shape. "Go on. Go ahead…" he urged.

A cold shiver ran down Will's spine. Something wasn't quite right.

Will set the apple down. "I'd rather not, sir, if it's all the same to you."

Barbossa let out a laugh that, at the time, Will had regarded as wicked but that the young man would grow to think of as comforting. "Oh, come now, boy! You think there's something wrong? Eh? Poised it perhaps have I?"

Will nodded solemnly.

"There'd be no sense in killin' ye, Master Turner," he said with a wink.

Will felt his face turn a dozen shades of horrified green. The food which he had inhaled now threatened to be revisited upon his plate.

"If you're not going to kill me, why am I still here? Am I to be your prisoner for ever?"

Again that wretched laugh filled Will's ears. He was half-tempted to cup his hands over his head to block out the sound.

"You don't understand what it was you were wearin', do ye?"

From out of nowhere it seemed, Barbossa's pet monkey came screeching over. In its tiny hands, the furry beast was carrying the gold coin that had once been around Will's neck on a string. He reached for it quickly, thinking of his father, but quickly drew his hands back to himself.

Barbossa marveled at the coin. "This is Aztec gold… one of eight hundred and eighty-two identical pieces they delivered in a stone chest to Cortés himself. Blood money paid to stem the slaughter he wreaked upon them with his armies. But the greed of Cortés was insatiable. So the heathen gods placed upon the gold a terrible curse. Any mortal that removes but a single piece from that stone chest shall be punished for eternity."

He watched Will with a glint in his eye and a smile hidden upon his lips.

"We pirates didn't think much of that old ghost story. Buried on an Island of Dead what cannot be found except for those who know where it is. Find it, we did. There be the chest. Inside be the gold. And we took 'em all!"

A spidery hand snatched out at air in exclamation of Barbossa's statement. Will flinched, afraid that the captain had been reaching for him.

"We spent 'em and traded 'em and frittered 'em away on drink and food and pleasurable company. The more we gave 'em away, the more we came to realize," he sighed, "the drink would not satisfy, food turned to ash in our mouths, and all the pleasurable company in the world could not slake our lust." He turned his buzzard's gaze onto the young man. "We are cursed men, Master Turner . Compelled by greed, we were, but now we are consumed by it." His voice became intense as he said, "There is one way we can end our curse. All the scattered pieces of the Aztec gold must be restored and the blood repaid. Thanks to ye, we have the final piece..."

"And the blood to be repaid?" Will asked with a choke caught in his throat.

Barbossa grinned. "That's why there's no sense to be killin' ye." As an after thought, he added, "Yet."

The skinny hand of the captain produced the shining green fruit once more and extended it to his guest. "Apple?"

Will hit the apple away, terrified, and ran for the door in hopes that he could return to the safety of the brig and forget this nightmare. Behind him the captain laughed and laughed. It was not until Will stepped out onto the deck that he knew why the old sea dog was cackling as he did.

All around him, in all stations, were the bones of dead men. Not just any dead men; the pirates that had crewed the ship. As his eyes went wider with fear, Will saw past the first glimpse and was even more aghast. Where previously he had thought that the men were all now dead- dead and decayed beyond what a few hours might have done- he understood that it was far worse. The skeletons were moving! The skeletons of the crew were still manning the ship!

Will stepped backwards and into a dreadfully familiar figure. The captain grasped the boy's shoulder tightly.

"Look, Will! The moonlight shows us for what we really are."

As he was told, Will looked all over the ship, which seemed to be crawling with the tattered remains of bodies and clothing. The sight made him ill, more than Barbossa's words ever could have.

"We are not among the living, and so we cannot die, but neither are we dead. For too long I've been parched with thirst and unable to quench it. Too long I've been starving to death and haven't died. I feel nothing! Not the wind on my face nor the spray of the sea, nor the warmth of a woman's flesh."

Barbossa pushed Will away from him. The boy gave a start as the Captain slowly walked towards him and into the moonlight. The old man's flesh melted away, like sand blown in the wind, and left Will standing face to face with a sort of zombie demon that was sure to fill his nightmares for eternity- even if eternity was only a few more nights.

Barbossa lifted up a bottle of wine and swigged the drink back, letting it roll into his mouth. Will felt faint as he saw the red liquid pour down the Captain's throat and then splash out over his ribs. The captain laughed and tossed the bottle away. It smashed against the ship.

Will took that moment to pass out from the stress as the damned crew laughed with their equally damned captain.

A shout came from above Captain Will Turner. "Land ahoy!"

An evil smirk crawled to the young pirate's face. He returned to the deck. Will gave the orders to his men to wait until nightfall before they sailed any closer. The crew rallied to receive their orders- which were the same as usual. Some men were to do the looting and the plundering, making certain to find the rations and supplies that the ship would need most such as food, fresh water, and rounds for their guns. They were low on cannon balls after that last ship they had boarded and what they had taken from their victims was slim pickings.

Another group of men would set the town on fire, kill any guards and townsfolk that seemed particularly annoying that they might cause a threat, and take any woman they saw fit to. Even if this time they might be required to leave more living than dead, they still had a reputation to live up to and fear to instill in the hearts of those pompous landlubbers that thought the King's navy could protect them. If they couldn't kill everyone, everyone's life at least had to be touched by the blackness of their cold, dead hearts.

While the rest of the crew was off raping and looting, Will would lead a group of his most trusted sailors to find the treasure that they sought.

A chuckle almost crept into Will's throat as he viewed the situation with a particular glee. He was the most feared pirate captain in all of the Caribbean- and some day, he hoped, in all the seven seas- and yet once upon a time he had violently denied the possibility that he could ever bow to the sea as his Mistress.

Will remembered how he had fought the suggestion that his father had been a pirate. Fought it for so long that he had almost forgotten why he was fighting it. The whole voyage to the cave, Will was vehement that his father had been an honest, law-abiding merchant sailor whom Will had come in search of after his mother had died back home in England.

That cave where Will's conviction had gained its first taste of uncertainty was now the port the Pearl called home on the Isla de Muerta; an island that cannot be found except by those who already know where it is.

Clearly, he could remember that day. He could feel the captain close his hand over the coin and the blade. He sensed how the dread that had built up in him had escalated when Barbossa had pulled the blade towards himself sharply.

A breath hitched inwards with a little hiss as young Will Turner felt the bite of the dagger's edge. Barbossa turned the boy's hand over, forcing Will to release the bloodied coin. With an eerie ca-cling, the gold piece joined its accursed brethren.

The men waited a moment…

They looked around.

"I don't feel any different!" one called.

Another, Pintel was his name, shouted, "How do we know if it worked?"

With a roll of his eyes, Barbossa drew his pistol and shot Pintel clean through the heart. The stunned expression on the man's face was still there as he toppled over backwards. Dead.

Will's blood had broken the curse of the Black Pearl.

Instead of killing him then or leaving him there to starve, Barbossa took Will back with them to the Pearl. "For his bravery in face of dangers unknown," the Captain announced before the crew as they all helped themselves to a sumptuous meal, "I hereby declare that young Will Turner a full-fledged member of this 'ere crew! Now bring your captain and the cabin boy a round of wine, y'scurvy dogs!"

The men cheered and were merry. They drank and ate like they never had before. Later that week, the pirates stopped in Tortuga and sought the comfort of loose women and more food and ale. A few of the men pitched in and bought Will a young girl of his own. She claimed she was thirteen and a virgin- the men all laughed at this- and though thirteen was legal by the King's law, Will still felt uneasy. His first time with a woman- girl he would later think- had not been what he had expected. In fact, he shut himself up in a closet for several days with the sacks of vegetables his only company. Better company than that spiteful whore! he thought bitterly.

Barbossa eventually had the door kicked down. They gave the boy a thorough flogging for being the biggest jellyfish they had ever met. He was a man now, they kept telling him though all referred to him as Boy or Bootstrap's Boy. Only Barbossa called Will by name, sometimes even as Master Turner in a cynical kind of way that was less demeaning than "boy" any day though hardly much better.

One night several years later, when the ship was far away from cursed gold and eager young sluts ready to dine on his nether regions for a few coins, Will knocked on the captain's door. He had questions; he hoped inside lay answers.

The biggest itch he need scratched was why Barbossa hadn't killed him yet. The Captain had him sit and poured his cabin boy a glass of wine, which he politely declined. Always, the captain noted, he was so polite. Something, however, was obviously on his mind. And the captain didn't like beating around the bush.

Will voiced his concern that this was all some elaborate scheme and that at some town he was going to be dumped off or that the crew was going to tie his legs together and drop him over the side of the ship to drag behind them.

This gave the captain a hearty laugh. "I can't say one way or the other 'bout the crew, but as for myself, that I can be answerin' for ye. See truth is, lad, I've grown fond of you over the years. There's been times, aye, that I've thought of just slittin' your throat and being done with ye. But you remind me of your father. Good man he. Shame what that other feller did to him."

"Other fellow?"

"The former captain of this 'ere ship." His tone turned darker, as though just saying his words brought evil omens. "Goes by the name of Jack Sparrow."

Will repeated the name softly, as though it held in it all the secrets of the world. "Wh- what did this Sparrow do to my father?"

"Oh, well!" Barbossa's voice lightened again. He smiled as he tried to brush over the topic. "I shouldn't be dredging up such dirty water. It's in the past, young Will."

"Captain, you knew my father. I trust you on that now. Breaking your curse proves that I have pirate in my blood." Will sighed and leaned forward to his captain to catch the man's eyes. He locked his gaze and never faltered, showing his sincere need for the answers. "Please. One pirate to another."

Barbossa nodded and gave in to the young cabin boy. He took in a deep breath- it had been almost three years since the spell had been broken, but he still relished in every moment of his beating heart and his rising lungs. "Y'see lad," he began, "we were on our way to that cursed Aztec gold. Many times I've wished I'd never heard of the Black Pearl or her captain. I've wished I hadn't signed aboard but I did. I sailed under Sparrow's captainage for quite a few years. And in those years I met a young whip that went by the name Bootstrap Bill."

Will's brows furrowed. "I've heard that name around the ship. I hear the men refer to me with it."

Again the captain nodded. "I'd think so. The men see a lot of Bootstrap in you. He was your father after all."

Yes, he knew his father had been a pirate. That he had been with the Pearl's crew only made sense.

"What did Jack Sparrow do?"

"Well, the rumor around the ship was that we were hunting for gold that pa'ticular voyage. As first mate, the crew put the task on me to get equal shares in the treasure's whereabouts. Now Sparrow," Barbossa leaned close to Will, getting caught up in his own tale, "he seemed like a solid man. He had strange ways about him and odd styles of thinkin', but he seemed as upright and honest as a pirate captain could be asked for under the circumstances. That was of course until someone crossed him."

A paused lingered between Barbossa's words before he continued. He took a swig of the wine Will had refused and went on.

"Sparrow gave us the location of the treasure with a little coaxing. We all found it and we all took from it, as I told you before- 'cept for the Captain. He never quite got the chance. After we had loaded the treasure aboard and had sailed a good distance from the coast, Sparrow hunted down your father- the only man who he had originally told about the gold- and tied a weight to Bootstrap's bootstraps…. And tossed him overboard as an example. It didn't sit right with us that he shoulda done to Bootstrap such a horrible, terrible thing. A share in that knowledge was owed to us; Sparrow shoulda given it freely. So we mutinied that night and made Jack governor of a nice little island far from away from any ears that might hear his woeful tale."

Will stared at Barbossa: half-dumbstruck and half in disbelief. At last he shook himself out of the stupor. Will raged inside. He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. "You're the only thing to a father I have now, Captain." He wiped away the beginnings of tears with his sleeve and steeled his nerves. He couldn't be caught crying. Crying was for babies and Will was a man, after all. Wasn't he? Will's voice was not more than a growling grumble as he said, "If I ever find this Sparrow…" He shook his head grimly. "The blood of Bootstrap Bill Turner will be repaid."

Standing on the ship that his enemy had once owned- the ship he had inherited after a long illness took Barbossa a few years after that night (A horrible way to go, Will had thought. Crippled and weak.)- Will surveyed the not-so-far off harbor of Port Royal where another old foe was stationed. Will nodded as he thought back to his promise to his father's soul. He had come close to finding Jack Sparrow several times now. Between large hauls, he would sometimes take a skeleton crew out to go man-hunting for a few months. After the ship sacked Port Royal and took possession of Pizzaro's jewels from Norrington, Will would be back on the trail of the man who had murdered his father.

Jack Sparrow's blood would fill his cup.