The next morning, the captain thought it safe to give Jack and Will some fresh air. This had happened before; the chains were still on the main mast, securing their ankles and wrists with little room for movement.
As soon as the men were in place, Mina roughly grabbed Elizabeth's wrist and took her into a cabin, leaving her in the middle of the room and going through a trunk. "Put these on," the captain's daughter instructed, tossing out a man's shirt and pair of pants. "There's work to be done."
"Work?" Elizabeth balked. "I thought you were joking."
"You thought Jack was joking about the whippings," Mina reminded, holding out the garments.
The other young woman snatched them away, casting a glance around the room for a screen or curtain of some kind. "And where am I to change?" she asked, less delicately than snootily.
"Where you stand, unless you'd rather do so out on deck. It's really no concern of mine." Crossing her arms, Mina leaned against the wall, not looking away until Elizabeth threw down the clothes and began undoing her dress.
When Elizabeth was done, Mina again took her wrist, leading her out onto the deck and showing her a bucket and scrub brush. "Anything that doesn't move must be sparkling clean," she instructed, loud enough for those around her to her.
Elizabeth winced slightly, picking up the brush and making a noise of protest as she dipped it in the bucket. "That sings!"
"Get to work!" When Elizabeth showed no sign of moving, Mina knelt swiftly, again grabbing Elizabeth's wrist and pulling her in close enough so that she would not have to speak so loudly that her words would carry. "Aye, the lye stings, but not so much as a whip on your back. And again: aye, it may take away the beauty of your hands, but not as much as a hot poker pressed to that pretty face. Do I make myself clear?"
Her eyes flashed. "I'm the governor's daughter. They wouldn't dare."
Mina shrugged. "You're the governor's daughter. They would." Standing, she said in a normal tone, "Get to work."
Will struggled to get enough chain to be able to look around the mast at Jack, neck chained at an uncomfortable angle. "What are they doing to her?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.
"Nothing permanent, mate," Jack said, almost grinning to see the proud young woman on her hands and knees. "Character building, really. You've got to scrub harder than that, love."
Mina was in front of him in a flash, holding him with an intense gaze. "Is that what you want, to make things worse? Because you can't go free on my wishes if you're dead."
Jack frowned. "I only told her –"
"I know what you told her," Mina snapped, cutting him off and glancing around. "And you should keep your mouth shut for once in almost twelve years. We can't get out of this alone; I thought you knew that."
He scowled. "Remind me to introduce you to Anamaria sometime."
Already in a stormy mood for reasons he did not know, Mina seemed to grow colder as he watched. "Yes, I'm sure your precious Anamaria and I will be seeing a lot of each other," she spat, turning on her heel and grabbing another brush, taking out her frustrations on the boards, and showing Elizabeth that she should use force on the brush and not just move it back and forth.
"What was that all about?" Will wondered.
"I think I know," Jack replied grimly. "And it's not good, mate. Not good at all."
* * * * *
Mina nudged Elizabeth with her foot. In her sleep the young woman had tucked herself under Will's chin, both of them ignoring the chains anchoring him in the room below decks. "Go away," Elizabeth muttered, burrowing deeper into Will's chest.
"The sun was up an hour ago."
"The sun went to bed at a decent hour," was the muttered response.
Mina poked her with one of the dowels of wood she held in her hands. "Get up."
"So I can scrub the ship again? I don't think so."
"I think you want to get up, Miss – Mrs. Turner," Jack said lazily, accidentally-on-purpose starting to call her by her maiden name. "Unless you want to be completely useless in means of our escape, of course."
That made her open her eyes. "What escape? And how are two wooden sticks going to help?"
"Get up and I'll show you."
Looking as though she were doing Mina a personal favor, Elizabeth got to her feet, straightening the voluminous shirt and tightening the sash around the loose waist of the pants. "I'm up."
Tossing her one of the poles, Mina held the other by one end as though it were a sword. "Watch your footwork," Jack said, though his eyes were still closed. "You know that's your weak point, love."
"I know my weak points better than you," Mina grunted, lunging out – with perfect form, Will noted from behind slitted lids himself – and knocking Elizabeth's "sword" aside. The captain's daughter sighed, briefly closing her eyes so that Elizabeth wondered if such a thing were catching. "Pick it up. And try to block me this time, would you?"
"Proper young ladies don't learn to swordfight," Elizabeth protested.
"Elizabeth. Have you forgotten all but the best details of that incident last year?" Will asked. "Do you think that being a proper young woman matters now? You need to learn how to fight, and learn quickly, and well."
"I don't trust her." Elizabeth crossed her arms. "She's hiding something."
"Maybe she is –"
"She is," Mina intoned, though Will paid her no heed and continued.
"– but she's going to teach you something that may save your life. If Jack trusts her with a blade . . . a stick . . . then she's good."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Did you hear that, love? A compliment. And I didn't even fight fair."
"Do you ever?" Mina asked, going back into her stance as Elizabeth, thoroughly chastised and silent but fuming, picked up her dowel and attempted a clumsy imitation.
"One hand," Will coached. "Yes, now turn – your fingers – yes, like that."
"Don't be too hard on her, love." Jack would have pushed his had foreword on his head and leaned back with it pillowed on his arms, but he did not have his hat. "She might break a nail."
"A nail?" Elizabeth shrieked, lashing out.
Mina quickly turned the dowel aside. "Not bad. Maybe Jack should speak more often."
"Why you little –"
"Ah, ah, ah." Jack shook his finger scoldingly. "Proper young ladies would have no words to finish that sentence, love."
"But I do." Mina dodged out of the way. "What is it you wanted to call me? A brat?" She ducked a wild swing. "Or something with more bite, perhaps? Would you stoop low enough for 'whore' or should I not even trouble your ears?"
"Try something worse," Elizabeth grunted, shoving her hair out of her face and breathing hard, two spots of pink highlighting her cheeks.
Mina stepped back, lowering her dowel. "Now, look: you need to be able to swing like that without getting ruffled. I can't be yelling insults at you ever time I need you to make a decent opponent!"
The other woman froze, dowel still up, eyes not leaving Mina's face. "You're trying to trick me."
"Into fighting properly, yes." Mina cocked her head. "I need more fire, less heat."
Finally Elizabeth, too, stepped back. "Why are you telling me this?"
Will sighed. "If we're ever going to get out of here, we're going to need all the help we can get."
For a moment the only noise was that of the timbers creaking as the boat rocked on the swells. "Then you admit to needing us," Mina finally said. Her brow was furrowed slightly as she scrutinized him, though the blacksmith would not raise his eyes to meet hers. "You don't even know the whole story."
"And you won't tell us," he countered, glancing up for an immeasurably small amount of time.
Jack shook his head. "There's something you need to tell all of us, love."
"There's nothing I need to do, ever," Mina said, this time being the one to avoid eye contact.
"No." Jack shrugged. "You need to answer a few questions, and you need to do it soon."
"Like what?" she asked tonelessly.
He spread his hands. "Why didn't Bootstrap Bill die when the curse was lifted, and what's he doing gambling me out of my own ship – 'scuse me, Anamaria's ship – and kidnapping his own son?"
* * * * *
The wedding bells seemed to follow her, echoing even in the darker alleys and side streets. They were the bells of Miss Powell's wedding, bells that seemed to taunt Willemina with every stroke.
Three weeks earlier Jack Sparrow had set off for London. He had sent her a letter, a quick scrawl with neither greeting nor signature, saying simply that his ship left in two days' time. When she received it, he had already gone.
Her mother was worse. Willemina – she refused to call herself "Will;" only Jack had ever done that – thought she knew why. Without the compass to guard, the woman was slipping away. Mina herself was not enough of a reason to hold on.
She sighed, sitting down on the front steps of an abandoned shop, feeling the cold of the stones leaking through her dress. Absentmindedly she ran a finger across her lips, remembering the kiss and at the same time trying to suppress it.
The bells stopped.
Mina looked up to the sky, to the cotton clouds and deep blue background, wondering if Jack were thinking of her, too – knowing he must not be.
She sat there a long time, thinking of everything and nothing – thinking of Jack – and completing yet another long, empty day trying to forget everything that had made her alive.