Author's Note – Okay, my first order of business is that I *know* that the dialogue is not correctly taken from the movie. I had only seen it once and I cannot remember who said what exactly. I also took the artistic liberty of switching the order of several (minor) events around so that I would be able to keep this story down within the boundaries of novelistic proportion. I only intended on this being a short two or three chapter anyhow. So that is my warning that this will not be word for word from the movie. My apologies, savvy? Anyway, enjoy!
Failing Hope
A Pirates of the Caribbean Fan-fiction
Written by: Pinto
Will stared in horror as the figure of Elizabeth Swann disappeared off the end of the gangplank. Enraged, he surged forward, only to be stopped by several rough hands, pulling him back. "You lying bastard! You swore she'd go free!" His voice raised in accusation, threatening to crack with the sheer, overpowering emotion. "What about our deal?!"
The tall form of Barbossa slowly turned to face the furious shout of the young man. A smug smile seemed permanently ingrained into his features. The captain of the Black Pearl strode forward easily, meeting the fiery eyes of his captive. "Don't dare impugn me honor, boy. I agreed she'd go free. It was you who failed to specify when or where." Barbossa's dark eyes flickered up to several men, silently instructing them.
Will Turner struggled to respond, but struck dumb by the cursed Captain's logic he could not reply. Suddenly a thick rag was brought around his face, jerking his head back. He choked and gagged as the material was forced into his mouth, effectively acting as a gag. The tight grip on his shoulders stayed and he jerked his shoulders back and forth, hoping desperately to shake loose the hands that held him immobile.
Barbossa's smile only broadened at the struggles of Bill Bootstrap's only son. "Feisty whelp." He reached forward, roughly patting his hand against the side of the young man's face. Will instinctively jerked away, the consequences of his earlier actions starting to sink in. He had not saved Elizabeth – he had merely condemned her to die on a forsaken island. He paused in mid-thought, realizing even more depressing information. Not only had he given her that sentence, she was doomed to be trapped with Jack Sparrow on that island. He closed his eyes briefly, his heart sinking even lower – something he had previously thought impossible.
A sudden wave of despair crashed over Will and before he knew what he was doing, he flung himself forward. An unintelligible cry broke through the muffling power of the gag as he threw himself ahead. Maybe he could reach the gangplank and cast himself over. He would probably drown, a rational part of his mind reminded him, but he no longer cared. That would be better than simply giving in and abandoning Elizabeth altogether.
Not expecting the sudden burst, surprised hands loosened their grip and Will stumbled forward, trying to regain his balance without the use of his hands, which had been tightly bound with rope.
Another hand grabbed him, roughly yanking him up by entwining his hand in the loose material of Will's shirt. With experienced speed, the dark haired young man found a jagged knife pressed against his neck, threatening to break the vulnerable skin.
"You want to die earlier than planned, rat?" A dirty, growling voice hissed into his ear. Filthy fingernails jerked roughly against the cloth gag in his mouth, snapping Will's head back. A moment later, it floated loosely to the wooden deck of the ship.
Will took in a ragged gasping breath, feeling the sharp sting of the steel against his neck. "I do not care." He ground out between clenched teeth. His dark hair worked itself loose of its binder and blew carelessly around his face. Another sobbing gasp escaped him. "I do not care." He repeated, this time his voice soft, broken.
By this time, Barbossa caught up with Will. He directed his angry gaze at the crewmember that held the younger man. "Not a drop of his blood will be spilled, do you understand?" His voice was painfully sharp, but he hesitated and looked at Will once more. A cold smile crossed his face once again. "Not yet anyhow."
Sensing that the captain's last comment was directed at him, Will lifted his head. He stared frigidly at Borbossa even as the knife drew away from his neck. "My father was right in standing up against you. You deserve this curse and you deserve to burn in hell." He spoke the words evenly, sharply contrasting his earlier near breakdown.
Barbossa stared at the boy, darkness clouding over his features at the reprimand like the building of thunderheads before the unleashing of a storm. His hand whipped forward, gripping Will's chin in a vise-like hold, forcing him to look the captain straight in the eyes. "Speak nothing of hell, lad. You could not even comprehend the gruesomeness of what I've seen or the horrors that I've felt." He paused, bringing his own face within inches of the young blacksmith's own face. His voice lowered and he spoke now in a near growl. "But before the end has come, you will believe that you have."
Pulling away from Will, Barbossa released his tight grip from the younger man's face and shoved his head down. His eyes studied the blacksmith's features. The ragged, white shirt that still was dripping with the salty ocean water, the dark, slightly curled hair that fell around his face – it all reminded him of Bootstrap Bill. It should figure that his damn kid would look just like him.
The only sound that broke the silence besieging the Black Pearl was that of the crash of the ocean waves against the wood paneling of the ship's side. The morose cry of a gull echoed on the empty winds. Barbossa surveyed his crew, noting the uncertain hush that had befallen. The captain quickly and rudely broke the silence with his own throaty laugh. "There will be no more glum faces, mates, for by nightfall the curse will be ended by the blood of Turner's son. We will live again!"
A loud and enthusiastic cheer erupted from the crew. Will looked up again, his eyes settling on the blood-eager faces of all those surrounding him. The group had closed in closer around him, making the younger man's stomach twist up into a cold, metal knot. What had he condemned himself to? Maybe Jack was right; all that he had managed to do so far was stupid. His current predicament seemed to top the list of stupid things he had said or done, which was impressive when one considered the amount of material that Will had already provided.
Captain Barbossa laughed heartily at the wild shouting of his disheveled crew. With a single hand he calmed the noise down to a slow murmur and faces turned up to him, waiting to hear what he would say next. "We approach the Isla de la Muerta. This time no chances will be taken." He paused, he gaze settling on Will Turner. "Take him below and lock him up. Give him his own cell – he will not be with Jack Sparrow's pathetic crew."
The filthy pirate behind Will answered with commendable enthusiasm. "Aye, Captain, the boy will get his own personal suite." This elicited a raspy laugh from the man's throat. Will winced, as a gun was jammed roughly into his side and pressed painfully against his ribs. "C'mon kid, let's go for a walk."
Encouraged forward by the rough handling, the blacksmith stumbled ahead, valiantly trying to pay no heed to the mocking jeers and ridicule that the crew of the Black Pearl threw into his face. His face contorted into disgust as one of the particularly more vile crewmembers spit into his face. However, with his hands bound firmly behind him and a pistol rammed into his side, there was very little that he could do in order to save face. He strained to keep his head high and made an effort to keep his pride and honor intact.
Soon he found himself rudely pushed down below deck. The steps were damp and some covered with the slippery casing of mold. They creaked uncertainly under his movement and Will began to fear that soon one would collapse entirely beneath his weight. The smell of stagnant seawater ruthlessly invaded his senses; it smelled of rotting fish and decaying wood.
"C'mon boy, keep walkin'. I ain't going to lead ya by your hand down 'ere." The pirate behind Will emphasized in irritation. He gave the young man another forceful push, encouraging Will to increase his pace.
As they descended further into the bowels of the old ship, light grew increasingly scarce. Will could no longer even see where the steps led. He was simply trusting that they would be there for each step that he took. Concern began to settle deeply into Will's core as they reached the bottom of the steps. There was hardly any light down in the depths of the ship and the sound of water pressing against the vessel's sides was distinctly unnerving. The guttural groans of the old lumber were unmistakable and a claustrophobic sensation crept into his mind. His pulse was noticeably faster and Will was struggling not to make strangled gasps for air.
Despite the blacksmith's attempts to hide his palpable discomfort, the brigand behind him easily detected the dark-haired youth's uneasiness. "Ye can feel the sea, can't ya? She's jus' tryin' to break into the Pearl. You'd be dead before ya could even think about gettin' away." The man's grip tightened considerably on Will's shoulder, causing the younger man to wince. "It's an ugly way t'die, drownin' is." He turned his own body so that he looked toward the blacksmith. A grin displaying his mixture of rotting and golden teeth lit his face. "I wouldn't know f'sure in th'matter, but I'm sure yer father could tell ya much more."
Will had nothing to say in response to the pirate's goading. Words could no longer do him any good. He stumbled forward as the man behind him gave him one last decisive shove. The blacksmith crumpled to his knees and was unable to catch himself with his bound hands. He immediately realized that the water from the sea had seeped into the ship. More appropriately, he thought sardonically, it had poured in. Balancing on his knees, the water already soaked him halfway up his thighs.
A vehement metal clang claimed Will's attention, and he swung his head quickly to look behind him. He had been shoved into a small cell and the pirate that had pushed him in had simply swung the door shut, locking the blacksmith in. Struggling back to his feet, Will stumbled to the locked door.
"'ave an enjoyable stay, kid." The grubby pirate chortled. "It's gonna be your last." He banged a hand against the barred cage in mockery.
Will ground his teeth together fiercely, keeping his jaw taut and refusing to answer the provocations of the pirate. He stared at the other man with steely dark eyes, fire nearly leaping from their depths. His eyes never left the pirate as he turned and left the below deck area, whistling some old pirate tune. Once he disappeared from the stairs and returned on deck, Will forcefully slammed his bound hands against the cage that he found himself trapped.
"Will?" A female voice, albeit rough sounding, inquired.
Caught off guard, the young blacksmith jerked back, his gaze settling on the row of cells across from him. Within one small area no larger than his own enclosure, Jack Sparrow's entire crew was shoved together. Will narrowed his eyes, trying to see through the darkness better.
"Anamarie?"
"Aye, lad, 'tis Anamarie! Are you all right?" She spoke a little louder now, and Will could see her muscling her way through the masses of her male counterparts.
Pausing before answering, Will allowed his head to fall forward and he rested his forehead on the cool bars of his cell. "It depends on your definition of all right." He muttered hopelessly. "It's over. I've messed everything up." He closed his eyes again, relishing the self-induced darkness.
"Shh now. Don't be takin' that sort of attitude jus' yet." Anamarie easily could see Bootstrap Bill's son was on the verge of giving up completely.
Will lifted his head heavily and stared across the passage into the prison of the other pirates. "I didn't save Jack or Elizabeth, I obviously did very little to help all of your situations, and in the whole process, I managed to damn myself. Please, tell me how that is not messing things up."
The rough, dark-skinned female raised an eyebrow as the young blacksmith proceeded to list everything that he believed to be his doing. "Well lad, it seems as though you worked up quite a list fer yourself. How long have you been thinkin' about that?"
The dark haired man let his head fall back onto the prison bars. "My entire life." He muttered miserably as he closed his eyes once again. "No matter how hard I try to make things go right, somehow they always manage to rebound right into my face."
Anamarie sighed, letting her arms dangle down through the spaces in-between the bars of their prison. "I don' know about that, but right now is not a good time ta be questionin' life choices." She set her lips in a fine line when she saw that Will still sat with his head resting against the metal poles. Obviously, he was not too keen on escaping at the moment. The attitude that she detected from him only served to irritate her even more. She launched her foot forward and violently kicked the door to her crew's cell.
Will's head snapped up at the sudden crash of metal. He blinked in confusion when he saw the irate face of Anamarie. "Listen 'ere now, Will! You ain't jus' gonna give everything up like that! Ain't ya even gonna try?"
The blacksmith shook his head regretfully and backed away from the front of the cell. "I've had enough of trying. All my life I've tried and it has gotten me nowhere." His back hit the furthest back part of his cage and he leaned up against it, slowly sinking down to the water-covered floor. He didn't care. "I've had enough." He brought his secured hands up to his face and leaned his forehead against them, letting himself drop away into oblivion.
TBC