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Chapter 5: Bootstrap, Will and Elizabeth

            We got a comparatively late start the next morning; the events of the previous night had exhausted and relaxed everyone, even Captain Sparrow. The remainder of the voyage was remarkably smooth, at least during the time that I was still a part of it. I decided I quite liked pirates: they were coarse in their language and manners, and not to mention criminals by their very nature, but they were without a doubt the finest company I had ever kept. One day the winds died entirely, and we were left stranded in the middle of the open ocean at a complete standstill. Captain Sparrow waited to drop the sails, watching anxiously – along with the rest of us – for the slightest hint of a breeze. The good thing was we were now further south, and the air was much warmer. Finally the Captain decided to lower the sails and drop the anchor to keep the current from pulling us off-course. We knew our day was truly over when he came down from the bow, stretched out with his back to the hull and pulled his hat down over his eyes. Some of the crew went below, but I stayed on deck with Mr. Gibbs and Anamaria to watch the sunset over the water. The soft, slowly deepening reds and violets in the sky cast the waters in a hazy, iridescent glow. The sun became a great orange ball, sinking into the ocean faster as it got closer to the horizon. For some reason it occurred to me then to wonder about our destination.

            "Mr. Gibbs?" I asked.

            "Aye?"

            "Where exactly are we going?"

            "South. Probably some island where Jack has contacts – he has someone most everywhere these days. And then we cross the Atlantic after the New Year, an' make for the Caribbean."

            "What brings us to the Caribbean?"

            "Young Will Turner. A good friend of ours – helped us win this very ship back some years ago. Word is he's finally got his own ship; Jack's taken it into his head to drop by and give the boy his professional opinion on the vessel. Good man, Will Turner. Just like his father. . ."

            "Will's father was Bootstrap Bill Turner," said Anamaria, "One of the finest pirates that ever lived, and a good man too. He used to crew this ship, back even before that accursed mutiny. Ye've heard all about that, haven't ye?"

            "I know the story," I said.

            "Well, after Captain Sparrow was lef' fer dead," continued Mr. Gibbs, "Bootstrap was the on'y one stood up for him. He said the others deserved to be cursed. Now, ye can imagine the effect that kind o' talk can have on a pirate, even a decent one. But this lot was the cruelest, most unforgivin' band of villains ye'd ever seen. They chucked Bill overboard with a cannon strapped to his bootstraps, and he was never seen or heard from again. 'Cept in the likeness of young Will, o' course."

            There was a short silence then; both of them clearly thought highly of Bill, and considered his loss a great tragedy. I became curious about this son of his, Will Turner, and wondered what he would be like when I finally met him. Assuming I met him at all.

            "I wonder who he's brought on as first mate?" said Anamaria, "Could be Elizabeth – she's bound to have a spot on that ship somewhere."

            "Aye, no doubt," agreed Mr. Gibbs.

            "Who's Elizabeth?" I asked.

            "Ah, that's Will's wife," said Anamaria, "She en't a pirate by blood, but she sails and fights as well as the best of 'em. She single-handedly convinced Captain Barbosa, Sparrow's old first mate, to pull his guns off Port Royal."

            "She stood up to him more'n once, too," said Mr. Gibbs, "Remarkable woman. . . She's a grand storyteller too – knows more pirate lore than most pirates, if ye can believe that."

            "More than you even?" I asked.

            Mr. Gibbs laughed.

            "That's a fair question, Abby," he said, "I don't know. Truth be told, though, I taught that girl the first stories she ever heard. That was many years ago, back before she'd met Will. She was just a child then, but fearless as could be. Good thing, too, because a pirate's tales en't for the faint-hearted. It never pleased her father much, those stories I told her, but she couldn't get enough of them. Always thirstin' for adventure, she was."

            "And she found it too," said Anamaria.

            "Aye, that she did."

            Mr. Gibbs looked up at the sky; it had gone deep blue now, scattered with more stars that I ever knew existed. It was always harder to see the night sky from the depths of England. Mr. Gibbs turned in for the night, and Anamaria soon followed, but I stayed up a while longer. The moon was full that night and the air was perfectly clear; there was an abundance of nocturnal light such as I'd never seen before, and would never see again. I leaned against the hull, watching the moon and stars cast silvery shadows on the water. Suddenly I sensed someone standing close to me. I turned to see Captain Sparrow leaning against the gunwale on my right, his dark eyes fixed on the horizon.

            "Beautiful night," he said, "En't it, Abby?"

            "Oh, aye – I mean yes," I said, correcting myself quickly.

            I silently thanked the night for hiding the blush I felt creeping onto my cheeks. The Captain laughed softly, but said nothing.

            "This," he said, gesturing grandly towards the ocean, "This is why I'm a pirate. This is the entire reason for my life's work. Nights like these, love."

            I smiled; I had seen him before, standing at the bow behind the wheel, completely enraptured by the expanse of beauty that lay before him. But I'd never expected him to admit it openly, at least not to me.

            "Enlighten me," he said suddenly, "What is it you're planning to do after I take you to America?"

            "I'm not sure," I answered truthfully, "I didn't think about it much after you agreed to take me."

            The truth was I hadn't thought about my chosen destination at all since Paris. I'd begun thinking of myself as one of the crew then, and I hadn't even considered what would become of me when the time came for me to leave. I thought back to the real reason for my journey, reminding myself that it wasn't America I had my heart set on: I was running away.

            "I suppose it doesn't really matter what I do," I told him, "My only plan is to start a new life, and I've already done that."

            "Perhaps. . ." said the Captain, "Who are you running away from?"

            "Who am I running away from? No one in particular I suppose, just everyone I've ever known my whole life."

            The bleakness of my words startled me, and my heart stopped when I realized how true they were. Aside from a ship full of renegades, I was completely alone in the world now. No one would even know my name once I left the ship. I knew no one back in England who would miss me; I wondered if any of the crew would, or if I'd just be forgotten. Suddenly I felt the warmth of the Captain's hand as his fingers closed over mine. My pulse quickened; I glanced down. He was looking at my gold ring.

            "Everyone?" he asked simply.

            I pulled my hand away from him and slid the ring off my finger, looking at it fondly.

            "This was my mother's," I said, "She died a long time ago; both my parents did. This is all I have to remember them by."

            I slipped the ring back on.

            "You've no family at all?" he asked.

            I thought of Roland, but I shook my head "no."

            "And now no home either," said the Captain, "Abby, darling, with a proper sense of wanderlust you'd make a right decent pirate."

            "You think so, Sir?"

            "Most undoubtedly."

            I smiled; that was the highest compliment I'd ever been paid. I looked down at my ring, watching it glitter in the bright moonlight.

            "Something still puzzles me," said the Captain.

            I turned to look at him; I was startled when I realized just how close he was standing. I could see a few of the stars reflected in his dark eyes and I felt his breath on my cheek when he spoke.

            "What is that?" I asked.

            "Do you remember what I asked you before I allowed you to come aboard?"

            "Yes; you asked if I'd be followed."

            "And you said you doubted it."

            "I do doubt it – I can't think of anyone that would miss me."

            "Ah, see that's what puzzles me."

            He raised his hand to touch my cheek; my heart skipped a beat.

            "What do you mean?" I asked.

            "How could you possibly believe that the disappearance of such a stunning creature as yourself would go unnoticed?"

            I stared back at him, astounded. What on earth did he expect me to say to that? There was still a small part of me that didn't quite trust him, as roguishly handsome as he was. And just when did I begin thinking of him as being "roguishly handsome" anyway? I opened my mouth to speak, but he put a finger to my lips. He softly traced the contours of my mouth, slid his hand behind my head and kissed me. I wasn't entirely unprepared for it – I had sensed it somehow – but I was surprised by how little I found myself resisting. My head kept repeating the same warnings to me over and over: to stop, get away, cry out or at least do something; he was a pirate after all, and was not to be trusted. But I kissed him back. Instead of pulling away I pressed closer to him. I closed my eyes and let him slip an arm around my waist and bend my body tight against his. I felt my own arms go around his shoulders as the kiss deepened. His hold on me was so tight it was almost crushing. When we parted he grabbed both my hands in his and looked me straight in the eye.

            "This way," he whispered, and he led me towards his cabin.

            Just then it hit me like a tidal wave what was about to happen. Suddenly terrified, I pulled abruptly out of his grasp. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him turn back towards me, but I didn't return his gaze. I scrambled down the hatch in a daze and blindly found my way to my bunk, locking the door behind me. I don't know whether he followed me or not; most likely he just went to sleep himself after I'd left. I was more confused than I had ever been in my life – the second breakthrough I'd had aside from my first stirrings of real fear. I disliked this sensation even more than the first. I lay awake for a long while that night, trying futilely to drive his remarkably gentle yet passionate touch from my mind.