Prisoners were in the brig, awaiting daylight and, with it, their punishment. There'd been a good twenty or so, only one of whom Jack had actually released to run back to their ship with the news -- "What good's a reputation if ain' no one 'round t' keep it current for me?" the pirate had reasoned. Somewhere out there, Will reflected with a chuckle he couldn't restrain, was a pirate captain wondering where the hell the infamous Jack Sparrow was taking half his crew.



"Glad t' see events of th' day aren' wearin' ye down, mate." The familiar voice joined Will at his left shoulder as he watched how stars skipped off the gently-rolling currents. They were a couple of hours out to sea, stocked and headed for the Atlantic, namely to put as much distance between themselves and Negre's ship as possible. "Where ye think we should head to?"



It took a moment to register, and Will turned slowly, by degrees, taking it in. "You're asking me?"



"I'd ask Anamaria, but she'd jus' tell me 'to hell' or some such," Jack shrugged. His coat was gone, as it was a balmy night; so were his boots, something Will noticed happened a lot. When he could get away with it, the captain liked being barefoot on deck, and the blacksmith reasoned this must be because it was cooler and he could move with more agility. Gone too was the head scarf, the dark dreadlocks and beads shifting only slightly with the distinctly mild breeze. "Well?"



Will was shaken out of his observations and drew his eyes back up to Jack's, which seemed both merry and intense at once. "Why did you say that about my father?" he blurted before thinking. "You know -- about the captain, and girls … and …" He trailed off uncomfortably.



"I remember what I said." Jack came closer and settled his arms, crossed, on the rail, taking up sea-staring where Will had left off a moment before, as the younger man watched his profile, awaiting an answer. "How much of th' way o' the world do I need t' tell ye, young Will?" he asked, sounding much older than usual.



"I -- don't know," the blacksmith admitted.



"Let's jus' say many a pirate's fancies don' always belong to th' fairer sex. Negre and 'is captain are among 'em. *Were.*" Will said nothing, lifting one arm to the deck to lean, his brows drawing up into a curious arch. "Your Da an' I sailed wit' 'em many a year ago, when tha' African bastard was jus' a whelp younger 'n yourself. Captain Miles," he pronounced with a hint of mockery, "fancied himself a connoisseur of male flesh, most notably young boys." Will felt his stomach fill with a sticky, ugly heat that wanted to come up, but he managed to chase it away and listen.



"But, when there was none t' be had, 'specially a long time a' sea, he'd settle for what was 'vailable. Took quite a likin' t' ol' William, 'e did, an' figured 'cause he was so pretty, he'd easily get 'im inta his bunk." For some reason, Will recalled all the pirates who'd made a to-do over the fact he looked just like his father when they'd known him; in fact, Jack himself had been the first to make the observation nearly a year ago. "But there wasn' nothin' in this world William liked better 'n his wife an' his whelp-" Jack afforded him a quick sidelong glance, "s' needless to say, he was not amenable to warmin' another man's bed. 'Specially not tha' jackass Miles … nor 'is prize playpretty Negre."



Things were clearer now. "He was angry at me for my father turning him down." It wasn't a question. "He wanted to kill me."



Jack turned at that, fixing Will with a hard stare that the blacksmith imagined he used to freeze people into compliance when boarding their vessels; certainly there was no tease, no warmth in it. "He wanted to kill me an' take ye t' finish what he an' th' dear, departed cap'n tried t' start with your Da fifteen years ago," the pirate corrected him. "I'd imagine 'e was still eaten up o'er what we did then, a fair bit, too."



"Which was?" Will recalled something about a mutiny.



"Only thin' we could, given 'e was gon' throw William's bonny backside off th' plank for refusin' him: Declared 'im unfit for command an' relieved him o' it, as well as his life." Jack spat over the railing. "Sorry bastard."



"And the ship?"



Jack affectionately patted the railing, a slow, feral grin stealing across his features. "She's done all right, given th' number o' bastards' had their grimy hands on 'er. 'Course, she weren' called th' Pearl back then; t'was th' Pluc-"



"The Plucky Marlin!" Will snapped his fingers and smacked the railing with an open palm. "Why do I know that name?"



"Prob'ly 'cause your Da tol' ye on 'is knee." Jack fussed with his unbuttoned cuffs a bit as he spoke. "Took 'er not too far off coast o' Africa an' sailed on up t' England, stopping for repairs 'long th' way. Was right eager t' get off an' see ye as I recall, bein' your birthday an' all."



Will closed his eyes in concentration as fuzzy images flickered behind his brain. "He *was* there," he nodded, recalling in fragments. "I was five. I remember he told me about his new ship, and brought me some coins … and a wooden toy sword." Opening his eyes, he smiled at the memory. "First one I ever had. And showed me how to use it, too."



"Glad t' see t'was put to good use," Jack nodded, and he wore a different grin this time, more nostalgic, knowing.



"You didn't-"



"Pirate lad needs 'is own sword, mate. Not jus' born wit' one o' those things in your 'and, ye know."



"You're trying to tell me you picked out that sword?"



"Not really. More like, carved it out o' Miles's peg leg."



"Jack!"



"You didn' like it?" Will's mouth gaped as he tried to find words to convey his horror … and it closed, his eyes narrowing, as Jack threw his head back and laughed heartily, bringing his palms together in delight. "Ah, to see th' look on your face!" he choked through the peals of laughter.



He waited until his captain had calmed down, and crossed his arms, fighting an upward quirk at the corner of his lips. "Seriously, now, Jack …"



"Ah, Will." He continued chuckling. "You're too literal. Actually, th' two o' us stopped o'er in a market in Portugal an' saw it wit' some other toys, an' we both thought it'd be fine for a boy."



He lowered his eyes and thought that over for a couple of minutes, letting silence establish itself between him and his captain -- his father's captain. "So he thought of me when he was gone," he murmured, wondering if he ought to be surprised.



"He thought o' ye all th' time," Jack affirmed, throwing a companionable arm around his shoulder and leading him toward the helm with a bit of a stagger. "Now … do ye remember a tortoiseshell set o' drums he got ye when ye were 'bout six, mate?"



"Tortoiseshell drums … I think so, sure. Where'd he get those?"



"Well, I'll tell ye." The captain's free hand drew lazy circles in the air as they strolled along, opposite the direction the Pearl was drifting in the late-night breeze, his voice picking up its usual music as he delved into his next wild story. "There were these sea turtles-"



"Sea turtles," Will dryly noted, rolling his eyes to himself, feeling the hand on his shoulder clap it soundly as Jack nodded.



"Aye, two of 'em …"