Journey Beyond the Past (2/?)
~~*~~
Will Turner hoisted his few belongings that were in the worn leather sack upon his shoulder, and slowly made his way through the crowded streets just outside the fort on his way to the docks. It had been months since he'd laid eyes on the fort and still it brought back nothing but morbid memories of his Elizabeth and their son...a son he scarce knew.
His mind, so wrapped within the context of the past, was so occupied that the image he saw in the butcher shop window caught him by surprise, stopping his steps instantly.
"By God," he murmured, stepping closer.
To the casual passersby, they'd thought the man closely inspecting the day's slaughter. However, that was not the case. Will Turner was looking at his bedraggled reflection in the expensive glass window, which seemed to refract his image into many differing views.
Running a hand through his unkempt beard, scratching his jaw, a habit he'd quickly developed since the facial hair actually itched like crazy, the man shook his head and in turning, noticed that his hair was nearly half way down his back. He now looked more wild man than either blacksmith or pirate.
Shifting the weight of his bag on his shoulder, Will turned about and looked down the dusty street, searching for something quite particular.
~~*~~
Catherine once again made her way to the Engloria after a long night of wondering just where Will Turner had gone to and if he really had any intentions of accepting the job. Maybe all that had occurred four days earlier had been a game in which to make her leave his land.
Boarding the ship, the young woman made sure that her eyes met with those of the tall, burly man she knew of as Ark. No, there was definitely nothing biblical about the large man, he was quite far from it and had the tendency to watch her far too often for her liking, but staring him down brought some sense of relief to her bones each morning as she waited for Will Turner to show.
Once again, the dock master curiously looked upon the woman and muttered something she was quite sure was unsavory at best as he made his way past the docked ship. Sure, she knew the superstitions of a woman being aboard any ship and found the thinking quite antiquated and for fools. But she also was smart enough to realize that there were still far too many seamen that believed it true. She'd heard some of the stories the men told and was none too pleased or for that matter, in no hurry to seek the truth of the matter and end up tossed overboard.
She glanced about the ship just to make sure things seemed to be in working order as best she could tell. After all, this was still new to her and Catherine was only learning as they went. Her husband Charles was never one to speak of the day to day goings on aboard ship. He'd rather wax poetic over his latest scheme, something that had ultimately led to his demise. The man was too much a dreamer for his own good-or so she thought.
The sound of somebody boarding the ship made the woman turn. "May I..." she began to ask the handsome man that now dropped his belongings to the deck, but caught herself upon spying those familiar brown eyes.
Gone was the haggard, unkempt man from just days before. In his place stood a darkly handsome, well-groomed person with hair that was shorn to just above the shoulders and held neatly in place by a leather tie. His face... his face was wonderfully handsome as the beard was now gone, a goatee in its place, allowing her to see the high cheekbones that had been hidden behind gruff hair.
"Mr. Turner?" she couldn't help but ask in fascination.
"Miss Kent?" he replied with a slight bow of introduction.
Catherine couldn't help but grin. "You know my name, I'm impressed," she commented, following as he now inspected the ship's deck and rigging.
He glanced out of the corner of his eyes while still walking about with his hands clasped firmly behind his back. "I thought it important to know the name of the woman whose ship I am to own."
"Indeed, Mr.... Captain Turner," she sighed, walking behind him. "Your crew, I failed to mention it the other day when we spoke, but do you have...."
Stopping at the ship's wheel, he took a deep, cleansing breath, reveling in the sweetness of sea air. "They'll be here shortly. Miss Kent, might I suggest you go ashore and make ready for our departure."
Catherine eyed him suspiciously for the briefest moment. "You're not trying to steal my ship, are you?" she asked, half-serious, half-joking.
A dark brow raised. "Commandeer...as an old friend would say. But no, Miss Kent, I am a man of my word. Your cargo will arrive safely, as well as you...I presume you will come along?" he began, then looked at the blonde-haired woman quizzically.
"You presume correctly, Captain Turner."
"Then might I once again encourage you to gather your belongings from the inn and be back before the tide goes out."
Catherine nodded her head in agreement then turned to go ashore but suddenly stopped and looked rather shyly back to the man she'd hired. "When exactly 'does' the tide go out?"
Will didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so instead he chose to sigh. "You have an hour, Miss Kent."
"Thank you," she whispered, gathering her skirts about her so she could make her way down the gangplank to the docks without falling.
Will Turner watched the woman fade into the crowd as he shook his head. This would be a most interesting voyage to say the least. But it had to be done; he wanted the ship. And if this were the only way to go about it, so be it...there were things he intended to accomplish and the only means necessary would be with this vessel.
~~*~~
~~*~~
Will Turner hoisted his few belongings that were in the worn leather sack upon his shoulder, and slowly made his way through the crowded streets just outside the fort on his way to the docks. It had been months since he'd laid eyes on the fort and still it brought back nothing but morbid memories of his Elizabeth and their son...a son he scarce knew.
His mind, so wrapped within the context of the past, was so occupied that the image he saw in the butcher shop window caught him by surprise, stopping his steps instantly.
"By God," he murmured, stepping closer.
To the casual passersby, they'd thought the man closely inspecting the day's slaughter. However, that was not the case. Will Turner was looking at his bedraggled reflection in the expensive glass window, which seemed to refract his image into many differing views.
Running a hand through his unkempt beard, scratching his jaw, a habit he'd quickly developed since the facial hair actually itched like crazy, the man shook his head and in turning, noticed that his hair was nearly half way down his back. He now looked more wild man than either blacksmith or pirate.
Shifting the weight of his bag on his shoulder, Will turned about and looked down the dusty street, searching for something quite particular.
~~*~~
Catherine once again made her way to the Engloria after a long night of wondering just where Will Turner had gone to and if he really had any intentions of accepting the job. Maybe all that had occurred four days earlier had been a game in which to make her leave his land.
Boarding the ship, the young woman made sure that her eyes met with those of the tall, burly man she knew of as Ark. No, there was definitely nothing biblical about the large man, he was quite far from it and had the tendency to watch her far too often for her liking, but staring him down brought some sense of relief to her bones each morning as she waited for Will Turner to show.
Once again, the dock master curiously looked upon the woman and muttered something she was quite sure was unsavory at best as he made his way past the docked ship. Sure, she knew the superstitions of a woman being aboard any ship and found the thinking quite antiquated and for fools. But she also was smart enough to realize that there were still far too many seamen that believed it true. She'd heard some of the stories the men told and was none too pleased or for that matter, in no hurry to seek the truth of the matter and end up tossed overboard.
She glanced about the ship just to make sure things seemed to be in working order as best she could tell. After all, this was still new to her and Catherine was only learning as they went. Her husband Charles was never one to speak of the day to day goings on aboard ship. He'd rather wax poetic over his latest scheme, something that had ultimately led to his demise. The man was too much a dreamer for his own good-or so she thought.
The sound of somebody boarding the ship made the woman turn. "May I..." she began to ask the handsome man that now dropped his belongings to the deck, but caught herself upon spying those familiar brown eyes.
Gone was the haggard, unkempt man from just days before. In his place stood a darkly handsome, well-groomed person with hair that was shorn to just above the shoulders and held neatly in place by a leather tie. His face... his face was wonderfully handsome as the beard was now gone, a goatee in its place, allowing her to see the high cheekbones that had been hidden behind gruff hair.
"Mr. Turner?" she couldn't help but ask in fascination.
"Miss Kent?" he replied with a slight bow of introduction.
Catherine couldn't help but grin. "You know my name, I'm impressed," she commented, following as he now inspected the ship's deck and rigging.
He glanced out of the corner of his eyes while still walking about with his hands clasped firmly behind his back. "I thought it important to know the name of the woman whose ship I am to own."
"Indeed, Mr.... Captain Turner," she sighed, walking behind him. "Your crew, I failed to mention it the other day when we spoke, but do you have...."
Stopping at the ship's wheel, he took a deep, cleansing breath, reveling in the sweetness of sea air. "They'll be here shortly. Miss Kent, might I suggest you go ashore and make ready for our departure."
Catherine eyed him suspiciously for the briefest moment. "You're not trying to steal my ship, are you?" she asked, half-serious, half-joking.
A dark brow raised. "Commandeer...as an old friend would say. But no, Miss Kent, I am a man of my word. Your cargo will arrive safely, as well as you...I presume you will come along?" he began, then looked at the blonde-haired woman quizzically.
"You presume correctly, Captain Turner."
"Then might I once again encourage you to gather your belongings from the inn and be back before the tide goes out."
Catherine nodded her head in agreement then turned to go ashore but suddenly stopped and looked rather shyly back to the man she'd hired. "When exactly 'does' the tide go out?"
Will didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so instead he chose to sigh. "You have an hour, Miss Kent."
"Thank you," she whispered, gathering her skirts about her so she could make her way down the gangplank to the docks without falling.
Will Turner watched the woman fade into the crowd as he shook his head. This would be a most interesting voyage to say the least. But it had to be done; he wanted the ship. And if this were the only way to go about it, so be it...there were things he intended to accomplish and the only means necessary would be with this vessel.
~~*~~