I feel like I should apologize in advance… hmmm…
thanks to those who have stuck with me this far. I really do appreciate the feedback, I can't begin to tell you what a difference it makes.
Onward.
Will staggered out of his father's cabin, blinking painfully at the light of dawn, even filtered as it was through the thick morning mist. Off the port bow of the Esperance was the jagged profile of the Isla De Muerta, veiled like a bride by the fog. He frowned as he looked down at the dew-slicked deck, pushed his hands back through his hair, and walked unsteadily toward the helm. His father turned as he approached.
"So you're up, then."
"Yes." Will blinked again, tried to focus on his father's face. It was harder than he expected it to be. "Have we been here long?"
Bootstrap looked back toward Muerta and seemed to shrug. "We anchored sometime after midnight."
"You could have woke me."
"You needed the rest."
Will frowned behind the captain, wondering. Surely his father wasn't less anxious to go on than he had been. Not with all that was at stake. "Are you having second thoughts?" He watched as the back stiffened.
"Nothing has changed. You know what has to be done. You know what the legacy holds."
"Yes." Will's eyes narrowed as he tried to think. He knew for a certainty now that Swann had to die, he knew he had to be part of it, it was something in his blood. The blood of a pirate… Just as he had been part of… frowning again, he looked off toward the stern, trying to remember something and not knowing what. For some reason, parts of his mind were crystal clear now – while other parts were as fogged as the rocky landscape of the island. In protection of his sanity, he clung to the points that were clear, even though they didn't stand up well to close inspection. "We were talking about mother last night, weren't we?"
"Aye. We talked while you were resting."
Something fluttered in Will's stomach. A memory surfaced briefly and then vanished, like a fish flashing its pale underbelly in the water. Some kind of dream – his mother was with him, smiling happily, but then she was in bed, dying, and Governor Swann was leaning over him and laughing … he shook his head. He was so tired. There were vague memories of being more asleep than awake, of vague conversations with someone who was watching over him… his father's voice telling him that he was the one who had to…agreeing that he would…it all made so much sense, in the night.
William Turner looked back toward his son. "Are you ready?"
If the sun had been shining brightly, if the sky had been clear, perhaps things would have been different. As it was, the boy nodded slowly, looking a little confused in the fog. "Give me a minute. Let me get my sword."
Onboard the Black Pearl, Captain Jack Sparrow spoke quietly in the morning fog. "Aye, Anamaria. Take the helm." The woman appeared like a ghost from behind him, slipping easily into his position as he extended a brass telescope. Putting it to his eye, he scanned ahead for a few minutes, then took the wheel again with an exasperated sigh. For the third time this morning his hand reached for an old, familiar compass at his belt that was no longer there. His expression tightened, and Ana stepped away, feeling his mood darken even further.
"Nothing, then?"
"Worse than nothing. I can't tell in this godforsaken fog just how close we are, and I can't make out any sign of the Esperance, not that she'd be calling out." He spared her a glance. "And Elizabeth?"
"She's awake. Should be up here soon." The woman shook her head. "Don't think she slept much after all, although I'm sure she was tryin' to look like she was."
Jack gave her a look from the corner of his dark-rimmed eyes. "Which means you slept even less, if you were watching her."
She shrugged dismissively. "I got enough."
He made a frustrated face and nodded. "Fine. See that she's distracted."
Ana gave him a grim smile. "I'll do what I can." They stood for a moment in silence, the creaking of the ship and the quiet indignation of the veiled sea as it was split by the Pearl's passage the only sounds.
"Cap'n?"
"Aye."
"D'ye really think…"
He glanced at her again, then up to the sluggish, fog-wet sails. "Dunno, love." He seemed to deflate a bit before he looked back at her and spoke again, trying to keep his tone light. "Not exactly sure how this is going to look in the legend."
"How?"
"Well, Captain Jack Sparrow should be able to…" He trailed off, his lips tight, unable to keep up the pretense of humor. Ana laid a hand on his arm.
"Yer doin' yer best, Jack. No one can ask for more." He nodded in grim resignation. "And besides," she said, mimicking his lighter tone of a moment before with well practiced certainty. "If ye made it look easy, ye wouldn't be the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow."
His eyes closed as he exhaled a small laugh. Turning to look at her once more, he gave her a quiet grin. "Ana – if you weren't already married -"
"Aye, an' it saves me the burden of turnin' ye down." She gave his arm a squeeze before she walked away. "I'll look in on Elizabeth. Give us the call when you've something to say."
"Aye." Turning his eyes back toward the bow, Jack Sparrow pulled his ship into the half-hearted wind. They must be getting closer… if he could only see more than a few lengths ahead of them. He found he was trying to clear the mists away by sheer willpower, and nearly laughed at himself. After all, how hard could it be, for a legend?
The Turners walked side by side towards Governor Swann's cabin door. Some impenetrably ingrained politeness made Will knock, and his father gave him an annoyed frown. The door opened before either could speak, though, and Weatherby Swann stood before them, dressed as he was the night Will first called him out of his library. The boy suppressed a sigh. It seemed so long ago.
William drew his sword. "Time to go." The Governor looked at him, then at Will.
"So the time has come, Master Turner?" His expression was calm, but his eyes seemed to beg the question. "And we'll be going alone?"
Will frowned at him, a memory from only a few days ago rising as if it were years old. He remembered telling the man that soldiers would be waiting when they reached la Muerta. Anything to get him where he had to be.
Something in his mind seemed to be screaming for attention. He blinked, rubbing his hand over his forehead. Nodding to Swann, Will drew his sword with a silken whisper, and stepped back to let him out of the room. "Let's go."
They made their way over the side and down the ladder, and Will sheathed his weapon and began rowing towards the sheltered cove of the island. His father sat in the bow, facing the Governor, his sword still drawn. Swann looked at him steadily.
"So, Captain Turner. You seem unnecessarily vigilant. Do you think the men who took my daughter are truly that dangerous –"
"We're not going to find anyone. You're here to get your just reward for your actions."
Swann frowned. "My actions? What actions are you speaking of?"
Turner said nothing. The boat ground onto the rocky shore, and they walked slowly into the huge dim cavern, lit only by beams of sunlight that pierced the darkness like blades. Gold sparkled in jumbled piles, a huge magpie's nest of shiny bits and pieces. The governor looked astonished.
"This is incredible. Who does it all belong to?"
"To who finds it. But we're not here to talk of treasure, Mr. Swann. We're here because you killed my wife, Beatrice Turner."
Swann frowned. "I've killed no one that I know of, and certainly not a woman –" He stopped, looked at Will. "This is about your mother, isn't it?"
The blacksmith frowned at him. A roaring in his ears was getting louder, more confusing. He looked at his father and tried to remember what he had been told – his mother – the legacy. Someone else would die if he didn't …someone important… but there was no one else. He was alone. He'd always been alone. There was no one he could trust. Blood wants blood. He drew his sword once more, sharp as his words.
"Yes. And you'll pay for her death."
"Hard a' port!" Gibbs voice sounded the alarm in the fog. "Rocks!"
Jack had already begun the turn, unquestioning of the man's dependability. The ship stalled as it lost the wind and luffed to port, its momentum carrying it sideways far enough to bump the starboard hull roughly into the stone. The captain swore.
"Gibbs? How bad is she?"
There was no reply for a moment as Gibbs swung over the side and checked the hull. "I'm seeing nothing from out here. What about below?" Ana's voice called out from below decks, various curses as cargo was shifted muffled by distance and fog.
"Aye, Cap'n. She's good as gold."
Gibbs called back. "By the saints, yer pushin' yer luck, Jack. I told you it was bad luck, runnin' full in the fog that way. Dunno how you kept her that time."
"Ah, but she's fine, Mr. Gibbs. My luck can't be that bad." Jack grinned in his direction, but then leaned forward, stroking the wheel and whispering quietly. "Sorry, love."
"Cap'n!" Jack squinted toward the starboard as Gibbs came hurrying back toward him. "It's the island. We're here."
"Are ye sure?"
"Aye." The a brisk breeze teased the mist into fluttering veils, lifting slowly away from the deck. The older pirate swung around. "There!"
Jack peered into the clearing distance and saw, no more than a quarter mile away, the outline of another ship, rocking gently at anchor. His shoulders dropped. "Lower a boat." He glared hard, his expression fluctuating somewhere between relief and apprehension. "It's the Esperance."
"Your crime, Governor Swann, is the death of Beatrice Turner. And my son - her son - will avenge her, to save his own bloodline from the legacy of this curse."
Swann turned to look at Will. He waited for a moment, expecting the young man to drop the charade… but there was something in the exhausted, haunted expression that worried him. "You believe there's a curse?" Slowly, Will nodded. "Then you would kill me, Master Turner?"
Will lifted his sword flashing into a shaft of light, and stepped closer. His shirt was soaked with sweat, and beads of perspiration ran down into his eyes, making him blink hard. "I'll do what I have to do."
Swann looked at the older pirate, horrified. "Gods, Turner. What have you done to him?"
Gibbs spoke quietly at Jack's side. "Who's goin' with ye, Cap'n?"
"No one. I'm going alone."
"Are ye sure? Ol' Bootstrap wasn't in his best senses when he left us."
"Exactly." Jack turned toward the dinghy and was stopped when he ran directly into Elizabeth. "Out o' my way, lass. I've got to move quickly."
"I'm coming with you."
"No, you're not."
"I say I am, Jack. I'll jump over and swim if I have to –"
"Elizabeth." Jack grabbed her shoulders and stared into her eyes, his seeming even darker than usual. He paused, shook his head. "I'm not sure we've got time for this."
"Which is why I'm –"
"Lizzie." He sighed, his exasperated expression softening slightly. "Do you really want to be there if I find out we're too late?"
Elizabeth's eyes widened and her face paled, her mouth a silent O of apprehension. Slowly she began breathing again, steadied herself.
"Yes. Yes, I do." She held back the tears fiercely. "You know I do."
He looked at her, took a deep breath, and said nothing. Abruptly he raised a finger in her face.
"Alright. But I go in first."
She nodded, and they made for the boat.
