Disclaimer: see chapter 1
Author's note: There'll be another break after this chapter, I'm afraid - I'm going away again and am going to be writing the old-fashioned way whilst I'm gone. So even when I'm back an update might take a few days, 'cos of typing up! Enjoy this chapter, for now, anyway - and as ever, thanks for all the reviews!
----
It was raining. Not a fierce, drenching tropical storm, but the steady drizzle that belonged to only one place on earth. It was cold, and grey, and miserable. As Jack Sparrow waited for the order to begin lowering the sails, he wished he were anywhere but here - sailing up the Solent into Portsmouth Harbour.
They had spent a busy and dangerous eighteen months in the Indian Ocean, dodging the East India Company and robbing any vessel not flying the Company's colours. Several men had lost their lives. Jack himself had narrowly escaped recapture on no less than three separate occasions. Eventually, following a firefight with one of the East India brigs, Captain Flint had decided enough was enough. The Black Pearl turned westwards, and set off for home.
Most of the crew had been away from England for at least six years. Some, such as Elias Carpenter, had been away longer, having joined the Pearl in the Caribbean. And some, like Anamaria, had never been to Europe before in their lives.
Jack could just see her, standing on the deck in someone else's cape, shivering in the drizzle. She looked small next to the men, but proud.
Joffo clambered up and shimmied along the rope to stand next to Jack, gripping the topsail's boom.
"This weather!"
"Welcome to Merry Old England, mate," Jack said miserably.
"You at least should be 'appy to be 'ome," Joffo returned. "Me, I'd rather be in Marseille, where it is warm and sunny."
"Why d'you think I joined the Pearl, eh?" Jack asked. "Because I liked this town? Hardly. Couldn't wait to be rid of it. And I don't want to be back - savvy?"
From below, they heard the shout of "heave!", and the sail began to move.
They anchored a little way out into the harbour, exactly as they had six years before. Captain Flint gathered his crew together.
"We'll be here at least a week. Keep your heads down, gents - don't draw too much attention to yourselves." He looked hard at Jack.
"I don't do it deliberately," Jack said, shrugging. "Just happens, natural like."
The crew laughed.
"Well, all the same," Flint continued, "remember we're never popular here, and there's a deal of marines around. Particularly now the King's returned. I'll be staying at the 'Anchor and Chain' - if you decide you don't want to take ship wi' me when we leave, come and see me there. I'll pass on your share."
A group of men lowered one of the boats and rowed across to the harbour straight away, to see wives or to find shelter from the drizzle in a tavern. Jack hung back. He had no immediate desire to set foot on home soil; indeed the only reason he really wanted to go ashore was to see if he could find Bootstrap Bill Turner.
He took a pile of lines down below, where there was shelter from the rain, and set to whipping the frayed ends. Anamaria came to join him, sitting on the floor by his side and drawing her knees up to her chest.
"Are you not going?" she asked.
Jack glanced at her. In the past year the child was showing signs of becoming an adult, her hair longer now and her figure slightly fuller. But the eyes that met his were the same as ever - bright, intelligent, and guarded.
"Not yet, love," he said.
"Do you have family here?"
Cutting the end off a cord with his knife, Jack paused before answering.
"Me dad used to live here. Probably still does, if he's alive."
"Don't you want to see him?" Anamaria questioned.
He set one coil of rope aside and picked up the next. "I really don't know. Can't see as he'd be pleased to see me, on account of me running off and breaking indenture to him."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that he was teaching me to be a carpenter. Do stuff with wood. I hated it; always wanted to go to sea but he wouldn't allow that, see? When the Pearl arrived I took my chance."
Anamaria twisted a strand of hair around a finger. "Maybe you should go and find him, and then maybe you will not hate him any more."
Jack looked sideways at her.
"When did you get so wise, lass?"
She laughed. "While you were being foolish and getting caught."
Overnight, Jack lay awake thinking about his childhood. He remembered splinters in his fingers, a sore back from bending over a workbench, never getting outside. He remembered, faintly, a dark-eyed woman who never laughed and who died of consumption when he was still small. He remembered his parish priest teaching him and some other lads their letters, and how his father had said that carpenters did not need to know how to read. Above all, he remembered being mostly miserable.
In the morning it was still raining. But Jack had made his decision, and he straightened his headscarf and put on his hat, and went to find Anamaria.
"Fancy seeing Portsmouth?" he asked her.
"You are going ashore?"
"That I am. Some of the other men are coming too; the boat's being made ready now."
She jumped up, and followed him to the boat.
They left it tied up by the docks, and the men dispersed in different directions. Jack noticed two of them making their way towards the 'Anchor and Chain', and deduced that when the Black Pearl sailed again, she would have some new crew members.
Anamaria stayed close by his elbow as he made his way down narrow, crowded streets away from the harbour. Both of them got several curious glances - Jack for his outlandish clothing and decoration, Anamaria for her dark skin. Jack ignored the stares and let his feet take him where he wanted to go.
After fifteen minutes' brisk walking, they found themselves in a filthy and smelly street, outside a shop whose sign showed a tree and an axe, surmounted by a small bird.
Jack took a deep breath, and pushed open the door.
There was the sound of hammering, and the scrape of a saw. The room was dark even after the grey of outside, and for a moment Jack and Anamaria stood dripping on the threshold.
The door closed with a bang, and the hammering paused. Footsteps sounded, and through an open door a man appeared. His face was lined and red with the effort of work, his dark hair greying and greasy. He peered at the visitors.
"Yes?"
Jack took off his hat, and stepped into the square of light let in by a small, high window. The carpenter shrugged.
"If you want something, you'd better say. I ain't got all day."
"Glad to know you missed me, father," Jack said. "I'll be going then, shall I?"
His father stepped closer, and peered at Jack's tanned face, his dark-rimmed eyes, and the beads jingling on his braids.
"Huh."
"Sail halfway across the world," Jack said, turning his head to Anamaria, "come home, and I get a grunt. Bloody typical."
"You were apprenticed to me!" his father said, harshly. "You had no right to run off. D'you know how much trouble you caused?"
"Fair payment for ten years of little love," Jack retorted. "Pay like with like - savvy?"
"Fair payment? Fair payment?" the carpenter said, his voice almost a growl. "I'll give you fair payment, boy! Coming here with your trinkets, dressed like one of them no-good low-down pirates, and expecting me to say I missed you? I'll give you what you deserve, but it's not fair payment!"
He swung his fist back and drove it forwards. But Jack saw it coming, and with the agility gained from six years aboard ship and five years of sword fighting, danced sideways out of the range of the blow. His father's punch went wide. Jack moved in with one of his own, and caught the carpenter square in his blotchy jaw. There was a crack, and the older man crumpled to the floor.
Jack shook his hand in the air. "I reckon," he said, "that I've been needing to do that for too long." He added a kick to his father's side. "And now I never need come back again."
He put his hat back on and opened the door. Anamaria followed him out into the street, silent.
"Where shall we go now, then?" Jack asked her.
"It is your town," she said.
"Used to be," he returned. "Now it's just another port of call. But there's a friend I want to find, before I leave it."
However Bill Turner proved to be hard to find. Jack had no way of knowing where his old friend would be - indeed he had no way of knowing if he was even alive. So they began the search with the taverns closest to the harbour, asking customers and innkeepers, sailors and passers-by. Nobody had heard of William Turner, Bill Turner, or Bootstrap Bill. By noon Jack was becoming decidedly depressed.
Anamaria bought them both some food, hot pies from a stall, and they settled down by the waterside to eat them. Jack was morose, his earlier euphoria at having beaten his father gone.
"What job would he be doing?" Anamaria questioned, in between bites of pie.
"He's a pirate, lass," Jack said. "Something to do with ships. He might not even be here."
"I think someone has taken my friend away," Anamaria said. "Have you seen Jack Sparrow? We should find him before we look for Bill Turner."
"You've gone mad," Jack said.
"But it is not like you to be so ... black ... in mood!" she persisted. "If he is here, you will find him. Won't you?"
Brushing crumbs off his fingers, Jack managed a grin. "'Course I will. I'm Jack Sparrow ..."
"Savvy?" she chimed in. "Maybe we are looking in the wrong places. Maybe he works in a shop."
"You mean, like a shipbuilder's, or a chandler's?" Jack asked. Anamaria nodded. "My dear lass, you are wonderful," he said, and jumped to his feet.
They began, as with the taverns, by the harbour. In the first two chandler's shops the name of Turner rang no bells, and it was the same story in the largest shipbuilders' premises. Jack refused to let himself get disheartened again, and they moved inland a little.
The ninth place they tried was a general ships' outfitters, selling a variety of equipment for ships and smaller boats. The owner, standing behind a sort of counter at the back of the shop, seemed friendly enough.
"How can I help you, sir and missy?" he asked. Jack swept off his hat and gave a little bow.
"I'm looking for a man called William Turner. Bill Turner. Old shipmate of mine. Last I heard he was Portsmouth bound - I don't suppose you know him?"
The owner nodded. "Aye, that I do. Good man. He's at the back mending a sail."
"He's here?" Jack could scarcely believe his ears.
"That he is," the owner agreed. "Through that door."
Jack grinned broadly, and crossed to shake the owner's hand. "Thank you. Thank you."
"Go on with you, lad," the owner said. "Don't keep him from his work too long."
Jack hurried through the door indicated, and down a short passageway into the back courtyard. Here, it seemed, a lot of the work for the shop was done. A figure was seated on a low stool surrounded by a swathe of thick creamy canvas, head down, stitching with a large needle. At the sound of Jack's footsteps, he looked up and dropped the canvas.
"Jack Sparrow!"
"Thought I'd drop by and see how you were doing," Jack said, casually.
Bill Turner threw his head back and laughed, and pushing away the sail stood up.
"I'm doing all right, lad. I'm doing all right."
He came up to Jack, and they shook hands, before Bill, still with a smile on his face, put his arm around Jack's shoulders. "Come and have a drink wi' me, lad. We've got a deal to catch up on."
Author's note: There'll be another break after this chapter, I'm afraid - I'm going away again and am going to be writing the old-fashioned way whilst I'm gone. So even when I'm back an update might take a few days, 'cos of typing up! Enjoy this chapter, for now, anyway - and as ever, thanks for all the reviews!
----
It was raining. Not a fierce, drenching tropical storm, but the steady drizzle that belonged to only one place on earth. It was cold, and grey, and miserable. As Jack Sparrow waited for the order to begin lowering the sails, he wished he were anywhere but here - sailing up the Solent into Portsmouth Harbour.
They had spent a busy and dangerous eighteen months in the Indian Ocean, dodging the East India Company and robbing any vessel not flying the Company's colours. Several men had lost their lives. Jack himself had narrowly escaped recapture on no less than three separate occasions. Eventually, following a firefight with one of the East India brigs, Captain Flint had decided enough was enough. The Black Pearl turned westwards, and set off for home.
Most of the crew had been away from England for at least six years. Some, such as Elias Carpenter, had been away longer, having joined the Pearl in the Caribbean. And some, like Anamaria, had never been to Europe before in their lives.
Jack could just see her, standing on the deck in someone else's cape, shivering in the drizzle. She looked small next to the men, but proud.
Joffo clambered up and shimmied along the rope to stand next to Jack, gripping the topsail's boom.
"This weather!"
"Welcome to Merry Old England, mate," Jack said miserably.
"You at least should be 'appy to be 'ome," Joffo returned. "Me, I'd rather be in Marseille, where it is warm and sunny."
"Why d'you think I joined the Pearl, eh?" Jack asked. "Because I liked this town? Hardly. Couldn't wait to be rid of it. And I don't want to be back - savvy?"
From below, they heard the shout of "heave!", and the sail began to move.
They anchored a little way out into the harbour, exactly as they had six years before. Captain Flint gathered his crew together.
"We'll be here at least a week. Keep your heads down, gents - don't draw too much attention to yourselves." He looked hard at Jack.
"I don't do it deliberately," Jack said, shrugging. "Just happens, natural like."
The crew laughed.
"Well, all the same," Flint continued, "remember we're never popular here, and there's a deal of marines around. Particularly now the King's returned. I'll be staying at the 'Anchor and Chain' - if you decide you don't want to take ship wi' me when we leave, come and see me there. I'll pass on your share."
A group of men lowered one of the boats and rowed across to the harbour straight away, to see wives or to find shelter from the drizzle in a tavern. Jack hung back. He had no immediate desire to set foot on home soil; indeed the only reason he really wanted to go ashore was to see if he could find Bootstrap Bill Turner.
He took a pile of lines down below, where there was shelter from the rain, and set to whipping the frayed ends. Anamaria came to join him, sitting on the floor by his side and drawing her knees up to her chest.
"Are you not going?" she asked.
Jack glanced at her. In the past year the child was showing signs of becoming an adult, her hair longer now and her figure slightly fuller. But the eyes that met his were the same as ever - bright, intelligent, and guarded.
"Not yet, love," he said.
"Do you have family here?"
Cutting the end off a cord with his knife, Jack paused before answering.
"Me dad used to live here. Probably still does, if he's alive."
"Don't you want to see him?" Anamaria questioned.
He set one coil of rope aside and picked up the next. "I really don't know. Can't see as he'd be pleased to see me, on account of me running off and breaking indenture to him."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that he was teaching me to be a carpenter. Do stuff with wood. I hated it; always wanted to go to sea but he wouldn't allow that, see? When the Pearl arrived I took my chance."
Anamaria twisted a strand of hair around a finger. "Maybe you should go and find him, and then maybe you will not hate him any more."
Jack looked sideways at her.
"When did you get so wise, lass?"
She laughed. "While you were being foolish and getting caught."
Overnight, Jack lay awake thinking about his childhood. He remembered splinters in his fingers, a sore back from bending over a workbench, never getting outside. He remembered, faintly, a dark-eyed woman who never laughed and who died of consumption when he was still small. He remembered his parish priest teaching him and some other lads their letters, and how his father had said that carpenters did not need to know how to read. Above all, he remembered being mostly miserable.
In the morning it was still raining. But Jack had made his decision, and he straightened his headscarf and put on his hat, and went to find Anamaria.
"Fancy seeing Portsmouth?" he asked her.
"You are going ashore?"
"That I am. Some of the other men are coming too; the boat's being made ready now."
She jumped up, and followed him to the boat.
They left it tied up by the docks, and the men dispersed in different directions. Jack noticed two of them making their way towards the 'Anchor and Chain', and deduced that when the Black Pearl sailed again, she would have some new crew members.
Anamaria stayed close by his elbow as he made his way down narrow, crowded streets away from the harbour. Both of them got several curious glances - Jack for his outlandish clothing and decoration, Anamaria for her dark skin. Jack ignored the stares and let his feet take him where he wanted to go.
After fifteen minutes' brisk walking, they found themselves in a filthy and smelly street, outside a shop whose sign showed a tree and an axe, surmounted by a small bird.
Jack took a deep breath, and pushed open the door.
There was the sound of hammering, and the scrape of a saw. The room was dark even after the grey of outside, and for a moment Jack and Anamaria stood dripping on the threshold.
The door closed with a bang, and the hammering paused. Footsteps sounded, and through an open door a man appeared. His face was lined and red with the effort of work, his dark hair greying and greasy. He peered at the visitors.
"Yes?"
Jack took off his hat, and stepped into the square of light let in by a small, high window. The carpenter shrugged.
"If you want something, you'd better say. I ain't got all day."
"Glad to know you missed me, father," Jack said. "I'll be going then, shall I?"
His father stepped closer, and peered at Jack's tanned face, his dark-rimmed eyes, and the beads jingling on his braids.
"Huh."
"Sail halfway across the world," Jack said, turning his head to Anamaria, "come home, and I get a grunt. Bloody typical."
"You were apprenticed to me!" his father said, harshly. "You had no right to run off. D'you know how much trouble you caused?"
"Fair payment for ten years of little love," Jack retorted. "Pay like with like - savvy?"
"Fair payment? Fair payment?" the carpenter said, his voice almost a growl. "I'll give you fair payment, boy! Coming here with your trinkets, dressed like one of them no-good low-down pirates, and expecting me to say I missed you? I'll give you what you deserve, but it's not fair payment!"
He swung his fist back and drove it forwards. But Jack saw it coming, and with the agility gained from six years aboard ship and five years of sword fighting, danced sideways out of the range of the blow. His father's punch went wide. Jack moved in with one of his own, and caught the carpenter square in his blotchy jaw. There was a crack, and the older man crumpled to the floor.
Jack shook his hand in the air. "I reckon," he said, "that I've been needing to do that for too long." He added a kick to his father's side. "And now I never need come back again."
He put his hat back on and opened the door. Anamaria followed him out into the street, silent.
"Where shall we go now, then?" Jack asked her.
"It is your town," she said.
"Used to be," he returned. "Now it's just another port of call. But there's a friend I want to find, before I leave it."
However Bill Turner proved to be hard to find. Jack had no way of knowing where his old friend would be - indeed he had no way of knowing if he was even alive. So they began the search with the taverns closest to the harbour, asking customers and innkeepers, sailors and passers-by. Nobody had heard of William Turner, Bill Turner, or Bootstrap Bill. By noon Jack was becoming decidedly depressed.
Anamaria bought them both some food, hot pies from a stall, and they settled down by the waterside to eat them. Jack was morose, his earlier euphoria at having beaten his father gone.
"What job would he be doing?" Anamaria questioned, in between bites of pie.
"He's a pirate, lass," Jack said. "Something to do with ships. He might not even be here."
"I think someone has taken my friend away," Anamaria said. "Have you seen Jack Sparrow? We should find him before we look for Bill Turner."
"You've gone mad," Jack said.
"But it is not like you to be so ... black ... in mood!" she persisted. "If he is here, you will find him. Won't you?"
Brushing crumbs off his fingers, Jack managed a grin. "'Course I will. I'm Jack Sparrow ..."
"Savvy?" she chimed in. "Maybe we are looking in the wrong places. Maybe he works in a shop."
"You mean, like a shipbuilder's, or a chandler's?" Jack asked. Anamaria nodded. "My dear lass, you are wonderful," he said, and jumped to his feet.
They began, as with the taverns, by the harbour. In the first two chandler's shops the name of Turner rang no bells, and it was the same story in the largest shipbuilders' premises. Jack refused to let himself get disheartened again, and they moved inland a little.
The ninth place they tried was a general ships' outfitters, selling a variety of equipment for ships and smaller boats. The owner, standing behind a sort of counter at the back of the shop, seemed friendly enough.
"How can I help you, sir and missy?" he asked. Jack swept off his hat and gave a little bow.
"I'm looking for a man called William Turner. Bill Turner. Old shipmate of mine. Last I heard he was Portsmouth bound - I don't suppose you know him?"
The owner nodded. "Aye, that I do. Good man. He's at the back mending a sail."
"He's here?" Jack could scarcely believe his ears.
"That he is," the owner agreed. "Through that door."
Jack grinned broadly, and crossed to shake the owner's hand. "Thank you. Thank you."
"Go on with you, lad," the owner said. "Don't keep him from his work too long."
Jack hurried through the door indicated, and down a short passageway into the back courtyard. Here, it seemed, a lot of the work for the shop was done. A figure was seated on a low stool surrounded by a swathe of thick creamy canvas, head down, stitching with a large needle. At the sound of Jack's footsteps, he looked up and dropped the canvas.
"Jack Sparrow!"
"Thought I'd drop by and see how you were doing," Jack said, casually.
Bill Turner threw his head back and laughed, and pushing away the sail stood up.
"I'm doing all right, lad. I'm doing all right."
He came up to Jack, and they shook hands, before Bill, still with a smile on his face, put his arm around Jack's shoulders. "Come and have a drink wi' me, lad. We've got a deal to catch up on."