The excited chatter and commotion of the pub brought no change in his casual stature as he fixed his eyes upon the empty mug before him. His well-tanned skin radiated a strong aroma of salt, as if he had just been plucked from the sea.
He shook his head sadly as he drained the remains of the goblet. He wiped the residue from his now clean-shaven face with the back of his hand. To those few that resided in the bar this early at midday, that had taken the time to acknowledge his presence, he was the perfect example of a tattered, adventuresome enigma come upon them in search of riches.
The man rested his chin in his hands, his azure eyes distilled in deep concentration.
Enough was enough, he decided. It was time to act. He had arrived at his destination, and it was time to seek that which he had toiled and sought for, for so long...
He rose, flipping a coin at the bartender as he passed the counter. He nodded absently as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear and paced out into the thriving community of Port Royal.
Soldiers paced to and fro down the roadways, and tradesmen and messengers for the docks bustled upon in their daily routines. The man glanced about him left and right, searching for any residence bearing the hammer and anvil symbol of the blacksmith trade also bearing the name J. Brown.
"I'm looking for a man named William Turner," the man had said to the bartender, only two hours before.
"Never heard of him...wait." The bartender paused and thought. "Ah. The convict. He's escaped, I'm afraid."
Concern, and a meager evidence of pleased amusement suddenly alighted in the man's eyes. "Convict? For what crime?"
The bartender shrugged. "Assisting and harboring pirates, or somethin' to that degree. Heard of his escape from my nephew. He's a soldier at the fort. Said the man clearly went mad. Denounced his love to the governor's daughter, swore fealty to a pirate, and leapt over the wall."
Been busy, haven't you, Will?
"Would you know, if Mr. Turner had any connections in the town?"
"Aye, I would. A blacksmith. At the shop just 'round the corner there."
"Thank you."
"Wait," the bartender said, taking a dishrag and aimlessly wiping his hands with it. "Take care where you go. Soldiers won't hesitate to take you into captivity, should you give them any reason to do so. Do not carry the name of William Turner lightly on your tongue. Nor the name Jack Sparrow, as well."
A smirk crossed the mysterious man's chapped lips. "Jack Sparrow. Right you are, thank you and I shall be careful."
He came upon it at last. J. Brown. Well, he thought, I shall soon speak the words that have stayed with me at the bottom of ocean for a decade...
And the legendary Bootstrap Bill Turner raised his fist to knock on the humble blacksmith shop.