Author's note:
Many thanks to Julie and Meg for their suggestions about why Will might have the attitude he does towards women.
*******
"Seven!" said Hal Wilkinson triumphantly. The other lads groaned as he reached in to scoop up the dice. "Pay up, fellows," he added, looking around.
Will watched as they counted out their pennies to him. He was not playing the game, only observing. He tried not to spend his money on such things; besides, he was not very good at dice.
"No, that's all for tonight," said Hal, counting. "I'll stop while I've enough money to buy some companionship for the evening – and I don't mean yours."
There were a few glares and mumbles as Hal turned to leave. "Come on, Will," he said. "Have a drink with me."
Will shrugged and went. He and Hal, a journeyman sailmaker, were fairly good friends, in part because Will would not dice against him and so never grew angry at losing.
"You spend it as fast as you win it," he said half-enviously to the older boy.
Hal laughed. "I suppose so, but why should I save it, when I can buy me some pleasure instead? You ought to try it sometime, Will."
"I never win at dice," Will replied.
"You don't practice enough, that's why," said Hal.
"Well, I won't practice against you," said Will, laughing. "You would clean my purse of every last penny."
"I might at that. But seriously, Will, I hardly ever see you spend any money, save on a drink or two now and again. What d'you save it for?"
"Oh, someday, not too long now, I'll no longer be apprentice to Master Brown, and I'd like to be able to set up on my own. A glass of rum or ale on occasion is one thing, but if I spent money on fine clothes, what would I have at the end of it? Nothing."
"You should at least be willing to spend it on pleasurable company," said Hal as they neared the Copper Groat. "That Jane, there, she's a fine-looking girl. Nicely rounded, she is."
Will looked at the girl in question as they entered. She was young, no more than sixteen or seventeen, he thought, about his own age, with yellow hair and fair though grimy skin. Pretty enough, but. . . He shook his head at Hal. "No, I'll pay for no woman," he said.
Hal snorted. "Waiting till you marry?"
"Yes."
"You'll pay more that way," said Hal. "A wife you have to support – food and clothes and then the children coming along, too. And after all that, she'll tell you 'not tonight, I have a headache.'"
"Maybe so," said Will, "but still. One woman, that's all I ever intend to have."
"I don't understand you, Will, but suit yourself. Here," he handed Will some coins, "get us a drink while I talk to Jane and see if she's free tonight."
Will carried their two glasses over to a table in the corner where they usually sat and watched Hal and Jane together. He missed Rhys Jones on evenings like this; the older man had been good company, as well as Will's teacher at swordplay, but when Rhys had unexpectedly inherited a piece of land back in Wales a year ago, he had jumped at the chance to leave his work in the stables. He knew that his friends thought it most peculiar that he would never spend time with Jane or any of the other whores in Port Royal – even Rhys had commented on it, once or twice. Some of them called him "Parson" because of it. Will did attend church nearly every Sunday, except when there was a last-minute job at the smithy, but he did so more for the weekly glimpses of Elizabeth as she and Governor Swann came in and out, rather than from any great faith of his own. His reasons for not wishing to be with another woman came from another source entirely. Will closed his eyes and remembered the last time he had seen his father.
***
William Turner was in Portsmouth on one of his rare visits. He had been there only a fortnight when he came home from the docks one evening in high good spirits, to tell them that he was shipping out on the Yancy in four days.
"Margaret, my girl, it's a fine opportunity," he said, catching Will's mother up by the elbows and whirling her around. "A fine opportunity. A merchant ship, trading to Africa and the Caribbean."
Will's mother essayed a smile. "I'm sure it is, William, but must you go so soon?"
"You know I must. Time and tide, as they say. But you'll be all right. I've left you. . . what we talked about." He kissed her soundly. "Now, why don't Will and I go for a bit of a stroll, out from under your feet while you're making supper."
He held out his hand to Will, but Will would not take it. William Turner frowned at that, and put his hand on his son's shoulder, guiding him outside to the narrow cobbled street.
"All right, Will," he said, once they were away from the house. "I'll not tolerate disrespect from my son."
Will kicked at a rock, succeeding only in banging his toe. "Why d'you have to go so soon?" he muttered. "Why can't you stay in Portsmouth?"
William went down on one knee and made Will look at him. "What would you have me do in Portsmouth?" he said. "Work on the docks? Be a sailmaker or a cooper or some such trade that pens a man up in a little shop all day? I cannot do that. It's no life for a free man, and I'll not give up the freedom of the ocean."
"Your freedom," said Will, and could not keep the bitterness from his voice. "I know what kind of freedom sailors want, I hear them boasting about it. A woman in every port, and a gaggle of children from each."
His father's strong fist clouted him over the ear, though not as hard as Will knew he deserved. "You'll not be accusing me to my own face of such things. Your mother is the only woman for me, and you're my only son, Will, the only child of my body. I'm a decent man, I hope, though I have my failings. I keep my word. To take a wife is a serious thing, and when I wed your mother I swore to have no other, nor did I have any other woman. So you remember that."
Will rubbed at his ear, but nodded.
"Now then," said William Turner. "Let's see what your mother has cooked for us tonight. She has the best way with oysters that I've ever known."
***
"Daydreaming, Will?" Hal's voice interrupted his reverie. "Here's Jane come to say how d'ye do."
"Good evening, Jane," said Will.
She smiled sweetly at him. "Not interested tonight, are you?"
"No, thank you. Hal will have to be man enough for both of us," he said.
"Oh, I will be." Hal took up his glass and downed the contents in a single gulp. "Thanks, Will," he added as Will handed him the rest of the money. "Come on, Jane."
They headed out, Jane pressed up against Hal almost as if she cared for him. Will watched them go and shook his head. A serious thing, to have a woman, his father had told him. When he found a wife, she would be his alone, and he hers, just as William Turner had said a decent man would do.
Many thanks to Julie and Meg for their suggestions about why Will might have the attitude he does towards women.
*******
"Seven!" said Hal Wilkinson triumphantly. The other lads groaned as he reached in to scoop up the dice. "Pay up, fellows," he added, looking around.
Will watched as they counted out their pennies to him. He was not playing the game, only observing. He tried not to spend his money on such things; besides, he was not very good at dice.
"No, that's all for tonight," said Hal, counting. "I'll stop while I've enough money to buy some companionship for the evening – and I don't mean yours."
There were a few glares and mumbles as Hal turned to leave. "Come on, Will," he said. "Have a drink with me."
Will shrugged and went. He and Hal, a journeyman sailmaker, were fairly good friends, in part because Will would not dice against him and so never grew angry at losing.
"You spend it as fast as you win it," he said half-enviously to the older boy.
Hal laughed. "I suppose so, but why should I save it, when I can buy me some pleasure instead? You ought to try it sometime, Will."
"I never win at dice," Will replied.
"You don't practice enough, that's why," said Hal.
"Well, I won't practice against you," said Will, laughing. "You would clean my purse of every last penny."
"I might at that. But seriously, Will, I hardly ever see you spend any money, save on a drink or two now and again. What d'you save it for?"
"Oh, someday, not too long now, I'll no longer be apprentice to Master Brown, and I'd like to be able to set up on my own. A glass of rum or ale on occasion is one thing, but if I spent money on fine clothes, what would I have at the end of it? Nothing."
"You should at least be willing to spend it on pleasurable company," said Hal as they neared the Copper Groat. "That Jane, there, she's a fine-looking girl. Nicely rounded, she is."
Will looked at the girl in question as they entered. She was young, no more than sixteen or seventeen, he thought, about his own age, with yellow hair and fair though grimy skin. Pretty enough, but. . . He shook his head at Hal. "No, I'll pay for no woman," he said.
Hal snorted. "Waiting till you marry?"
"Yes."
"You'll pay more that way," said Hal. "A wife you have to support – food and clothes and then the children coming along, too. And after all that, she'll tell you 'not tonight, I have a headache.'"
"Maybe so," said Will, "but still. One woman, that's all I ever intend to have."
"I don't understand you, Will, but suit yourself. Here," he handed Will some coins, "get us a drink while I talk to Jane and see if she's free tonight."
Will carried their two glasses over to a table in the corner where they usually sat and watched Hal and Jane together. He missed Rhys Jones on evenings like this; the older man had been good company, as well as Will's teacher at swordplay, but when Rhys had unexpectedly inherited a piece of land back in Wales a year ago, he had jumped at the chance to leave his work in the stables. He knew that his friends thought it most peculiar that he would never spend time with Jane or any of the other whores in Port Royal – even Rhys had commented on it, once or twice. Some of them called him "Parson" because of it. Will did attend church nearly every Sunday, except when there was a last-minute job at the smithy, but he did so more for the weekly glimpses of Elizabeth as she and Governor Swann came in and out, rather than from any great faith of his own. His reasons for not wishing to be with another woman came from another source entirely. Will closed his eyes and remembered the last time he had seen his father.
***
William Turner was in Portsmouth on one of his rare visits. He had been there only a fortnight when he came home from the docks one evening in high good spirits, to tell them that he was shipping out on the Yancy in four days.
"Margaret, my girl, it's a fine opportunity," he said, catching Will's mother up by the elbows and whirling her around. "A fine opportunity. A merchant ship, trading to Africa and the Caribbean."
Will's mother essayed a smile. "I'm sure it is, William, but must you go so soon?"
"You know I must. Time and tide, as they say. But you'll be all right. I've left you. . . what we talked about." He kissed her soundly. "Now, why don't Will and I go for a bit of a stroll, out from under your feet while you're making supper."
He held out his hand to Will, but Will would not take it. William Turner frowned at that, and put his hand on his son's shoulder, guiding him outside to the narrow cobbled street.
"All right, Will," he said, once they were away from the house. "I'll not tolerate disrespect from my son."
Will kicked at a rock, succeeding only in banging his toe. "Why d'you have to go so soon?" he muttered. "Why can't you stay in Portsmouth?"
William went down on one knee and made Will look at him. "What would you have me do in Portsmouth?" he said. "Work on the docks? Be a sailmaker or a cooper or some such trade that pens a man up in a little shop all day? I cannot do that. It's no life for a free man, and I'll not give up the freedom of the ocean."
"Your freedom," said Will, and could not keep the bitterness from his voice. "I know what kind of freedom sailors want, I hear them boasting about it. A woman in every port, and a gaggle of children from each."
His father's strong fist clouted him over the ear, though not as hard as Will knew he deserved. "You'll not be accusing me to my own face of such things. Your mother is the only woman for me, and you're my only son, Will, the only child of my body. I'm a decent man, I hope, though I have my failings. I keep my word. To take a wife is a serious thing, and when I wed your mother I swore to have no other, nor did I have any other woman. So you remember that."
Will rubbed at his ear, but nodded.
"Now then," said William Turner. "Let's see what your mother has cooked for us tonight. She has the best way with oysters that I've ever known."
***
"Daydreaming, Will?" Hal's voice interrupted his reverie. "Here's Jane come to say how d'ye do."
"Good evening, Jane," said Will.
She smiled sweetly at him. "Not interested tonight, are you?"
"No, thank you. Hal will have to be man enough for both of us," he said.
"Oh, I will be." Hal took up his glass and downed the contents in a single gulp. "Thanks, Will," he added as Will handed him the rest of the money. "Come on, Jane."
They headed out, Jane pressed up against Hal almost as if she cared for him. Will watched them go and shook his head. A serious thing, to have a woman, his father had told him. When he found a wife, she would be his alone, and he hers, just as William Turner had said a decent man would do.