Author's Note: Extra Special Thanks to ErinRua for pointing out a technical problem. (Answer in full at end of chapter with other review responses, but please noteminor change to part 4 regarding the keelhauling.)
Thanks for all the reviews! They're really keeping me going! I haven't gotten many for this story, but just when I start to think no one likes it I get an amazing one! Thank you all. (Replies to reviews at end of chapter!)
Disclaimer: I don't own it. Disney does. No disrespect is intended. I am making no money from this and write it only for my own amusement.
A Pirate's Life and Death part 5 by Ecri
Will Turner slowly became aware of the fact that there was no wind. He furrowed his brow, wondering what had happened to the wind. Could the air be that still? Something wet hit his lips, and his tongue flicked outwards searching for it. A damp cloth seemed to be moving around his face. Desperately, he forced uncooperative eyes open. "Baxter?" he croaked, his voice weak and cracking.
"Yeah. Drink this." The man held a cup of water out to him, helping him sit slightly so he could drink.
He drank the cup empty, and savored the feeling of the liquid running down his throat. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me. I'm only doing as I've been ordered."
"Whywhy would he" Will's voice quit on him, as he began to cough. After several minutes he was finally under control Baxter answered him.
"Why would he want you tended after what he done?"
Will nodded.
"Ya got me, kid, but he wants you able to walk when we reach Scratch."
Will digested this information as he tried to move. His muscles refused to obey him, and the pain caused by the slightest movement astonished him. "When do we get there?"
"In 10 hours."
Will almost laughed. "I can't imagine I'll be able to walk by then."
Baxter looked him over. "Right. Then you'll have to crawl."
"Right." Will closed his eyes again, and fell almost immediately to sleep.
**
Killian smiled as the sun began to rise. The pinks, reds, yellows, and oranges were brilliant, but what he liked most was the sight of Scratch. They had made it. Turner was alive, albeit barely. The drug he'd slipped the boy over the months had kept him depressed and lethargic, but now, he was downright docile.
He watched his men as he gave the orders to set out to the small island. Only himself, Turner, and four other men would go, and those four would stay on the beach. Only he and Turner would make the trek to the cave. He put his hand to the wooden box, feeling its impatience to be return from whence it came.
He marched towards the boat he would take with Turner and the other four. Once he was there, Will Turner was brought to him. The boy shuffled painfully, but he was upright. Killian nodded to Baxter, and noted with amusement that the man sighed with relief.
Turner, on the other hand, was a long way from relief. Hunched and cradling his left arm to his chest, he shuffled more than walked as though every movement caused him pain. Killian took the boy's chin and turned his face up to inspect his eyes. Turner barely registered the motion or his presence. The boy's eyes were widely dilated, and Killian was pleased with himself for giving him such a large dose of the drug.
Roughly, he tossed the boy at the boat, laughing when he stumbled.
When they reached the Island, Killian gave the men orders to stay put, then, taking Will Turner by the arm, began to lead him towards the center of the island. Will stumbled, fell, righted himself, cried out in pain, but Killian never slowed his pace. Barefoot and barely dressed, Will's injuries mounted as they walked, or in Will's case, mostly crawled, but Killian pressed on.
They hadn't much time, for the Wooden Box in Killian's pocket had begun to pulse rapidly. By nightfall, Turner would be dead.
**
Jack saw the Marauder, the Serpent, and the Revenge and knew they had to be careful. Diverting course could bring them up unseen, but it would add hourshours Will might not have to spare. Still, they could not hope to face all three ships. It had to be done.
"Prepare the lifeboats, and head to starboard." He called to Gibbs, ignoring Elizabeth's frustration as well as her frustrating cries.
" 'Ang on, Will, my lad. Jack's 'ere."
Jack watched Scratch draw closer and closer, but, though his eyes stared at the Island. They saw another time.
Flashback:
Jack Sparrow clung to the debris of the ship he'd thought of as safe before the storm had hit. He'd seen storms before, of course he had, but this one had made him wonder if ever he had. The swells had to have been 80 or 90 feet high. The rain fell in sheets so, at any given moment, it was difficult to say if it was rainwater or seawater coming down on you.
He'd been afraid, but when his captain had told him to stay below deck, it had stung his pride. He wasn't a child! He was the cabin boy! Still orders were orders, so he'd stayed below deck. When the ship started taking on water, and what crew was with him had started bailing it out, he'd volunteered to take the information to the captain. The ranking crewman had been reluctant, but had let him go.
It was on his way up the stairs that the ship had finally given under the beating it was taking. Wind and wave, the ship had taken all it could take, and when she gave, she all but splintered. Jack had felt as though the very world no longer existed. One minute he was walking up solid stairs, and the next he seemed to be flying through the air. The wind blew the rain straight into his face, making it difficult to breathe, and, as he struggled for breath, he plunged into the depths of the sea. Unable to prevent it, he took in a lung full of water and surfaced choking.
He wasn't able to see much, but as he tried to swim, or at least tread water, his right hand touched something solid. Clutching at it, he realized, whatever it had once been, it was now his life raft. He clung to it desperately, eyes clenched shut, and for a while, he Neptune's plaything.
End Flashback:
Jack blinked away the memories wishing they wouldn't come. He'd expected it of course, from the minute he'd realized which island Elizabeth had pointed to on his maps. "Scratch. Why did it have to be Scratch?"
**
Will couldn't make his mind focus on what he was doing. He knew only to move forward, the iron grip on his arm dragging him in one direction or the other. He didn't know what he was doing or where he was going. He barely knew his own name, though the name Elizabeth reverberated through his mind again and again. Stumbling again, he felt pain shoot through his knee where he hit a rock, followed by painful lashing across his back. He knew from experience the only way to stop it was to get up and walk, but he could not force himself upright. All he could manage was a slow, painful crawl. He knew this would be tolerated for only a short time before he was picked up bodily and set upon his feet to walk on until he fell again. He wondered what would happen if he couldn't rise the next time.
Killian watched Will's struggle, secretly thrilled that Bootstrap's son would be the one to gain him his respite. A poetic justice in it somehow, as that Pirate had been the only one of his victims ever to escape him. Killian remembered it clearly and wondered if the boy had been born at the time. He was a poor judge of age, and the years seemed to race by him yet limp along quite slowly at the same time. He assumed it was a side effect. It didn't matter to him, so long as the years did pass, and he remained able to mark their passing. It certainly beat the alternative.
**
Jack finally put to shore bringing half his crew. He knew Killian would bring only a token number believing he was safe and no one would follow him there. Secretly, he couldn't wait to see the look on Killian's face when he showed up once again to save a Turner who had saved Jack's own life. He smiled in anticipation. Poetic justice in that.
Justice. Poetic wasn't the only sort of justice he was going after. Killian was the worst kind of Pirate. He was all but demon, and had lived long enough to prove it. He'd given pirates a bad name, after all. Killian was the type of pirate who would turn Port Royal's Commodore Norrington into chum.
And he'd enjoy doing it.
Being here again, on Scratch brought it all back to him.
Flashback:
Ten-years-old, and shipwrecked, Jack Sparrow thought. He hadn't a clue if anyone from the Caribbean Treasure had made it off the ship, but even if they had, the chances they'd all end up on the same island had to be poor.
He walked along the beach wondering what should be his first task. Basics, he thought. Food, shelter, fresh water. With not a thought to how tired he was, Jack trudged inland looking for the basics. The further he got from the beach, the slower he walked. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was somethinghere.
After several hours walking in the hot sun, he finally found a pool of water near a small cave. Thirst won out over caution, and he threw himself down by the pool's edge and drank all he could.
Gasping for air, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the trees overhead. In a few moments, he was asleep.
End Flashback
Jack remembered that dream. It still came to him from time to time. Images of demons and devilshe still wasn't sure if the water had been tainted, or if it had been somethingother.
Looking back to his men, he waved them forward, feigning a confidence and a bravado he didn't feel. "Come on!" he called, eyeing the small rowboat they had found on the beach. "They're already here."
**
Killian approached the altar he had discovered, quite by accident all those years ago. It had worked to his advantage. He had lived so long now he could scarcely believe it. His education had been the key. If he had been unable to read, as so many pirates were, he would have passed by this room and ignored it for it contained no gold. Curiosity had claimed him that day, however, and he'd wandered inside finding the greatest possible treasure. Sure, he had almost lost the prize that year Jack Sparrow had followed Bootstrap Bill in an attempt to rescue him. A successful attempt to be sure. Killian didn't usually take men as old as Bill Turner, but he had thought it would be enough for a short respite. When Jack had rescued Bootstrap, Killian had had to resort to some substitutions.
He shuddered at the thought. The old man, a cook on the Serpent, had bought him only a few months.
He stared down at Will Turner. Bootstrap's son was barely a man. Plenty of good years left in him! This would buy him a good bit of time. Settling a compliant and injured Will onto the stone altar, Killian prepared the things for the ritual. The wooden box, the knives, the torches, everything had to be placed just so. The last thing he did was remove the blanket covering the stone carving. Nearly as tall as two men, it leered down towards the altar, great massive stone arms reaching towards the intended victim.
Clamping several manacles onto Will's arms and wrists, he laughed as he sharpened his knife.
**
Jack moved swiftly through the jungle towards the center of the island hacking through the thick underbrush with a machete. His men followed, mostly because he'd promised them there'd be treasure and with any luck, there would be. Not that he put a lot of stock in his own luck, for it certainly seemed to leave him high and dry often enough. He pushed the thought aside. He had plans to make.
He hoped to take Killian's life, such as it was, and afterwards, he wasn't sure what they would do. By the code, as defeating captain, he'd be entitled to plunder Killian's ship. Since Killian had three, technically, they'd be Jack's. He just wasn't sure how he'd handle that. He didn't really relish the idea of having a small fleet. Too much responsibility. On the other hand, he could get used to it. Commodore Jack Sparrow had a nice ring to itif ever people would remembered to use his title.
Something stopped him in his tracks, and he realized the jungle here looked very familiar.
Flashback
Jack had wandered all over the island looking for food. He'd been well into his third day when he heard the noises. A voicechanting. It was an odd language, but it sounded worth a look. The boy decided to creep closer and see what he could learn. If it looked safeeven if it didn't look safe. He was hungry, and scared, though he'd never admit to the latter. The island crawled with dark shadows, and each night he spent here had been full of running and hiding and cowering.
Last night, he had been sure he'd seen a devil of some sort. Horns, a red face, and a mouth full of long, sharp teeth. The thing had chased him, but he'd gotten away.
Now, creeping towards the caves from which emanated the strange chanting, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Ignoring it as best he could since this was the first sign he'd seen in three days that he wasn't alone, Jack followed where the chanting led.
Finally, rounding a corner, he smiled at the thought that he'd finally found someone. Peeking inside the small cavern, he saw a man, his back to Jack, hands raised. The man was chanting, over another man who was tied to a stone table. As Jack watched, the standing man plunged a knife into the one at the altar. Horrified, Jack wanted to look away, to run, but he couldn't.
Instead, he watched as a strange wooden box at the wounded man's head pulsed. In the following moments, a strange light seemed to reach out towards the wounded man, and, through the wound, entered the man's body. Another moment was all it took. As the pulsing light withdrew from the body all that it left behind was a shriveled husk that held its shape just long enough for the light to return to the box. He heard a voice thenthe chanting man, only now he spoke in English.
"And so it is done."
The box pulsed again, and another voice seemed to come from inside the light. "And so I will keep you alivethis time for another twenty-five years." Then the box slid shut of its own accord, and the man, still standing with his back to Jack turned around.
And Jack beheld the very devil that had chased him across the island the night before.
End Flashback
Jack knew they must be getting closer to the altar. He gestured for his men to stop and they almost managed to avoid running into him.
Creeping stealthily forward with Gibbs close by, he peered through the bushes to see a large cave ahead. Nodding to himself, he turned back to his men. "This is it. I'm going to go in with at least ten of you. The rest guard the cave entrance and don't let Killian out or anyone else in." He scanned the group of men and picked the 10 biggest, best fighters. "Come on."
They followed him towards the cave and with a last fleeting, pleading look to the heavens, he crept inside.
**
Elizabeth stared at the island where Jack and half his crew had put to shore. She had to believe that he would find Will. She just wished she knew what was going on. Jack was hiding something from her, that much was certain. She knew Anamaria didn't know what it was, but perhapsOh, she thought, what was she doing! "I can't just sit here and wait like alike a woman!" She glanced about the deck looking for Anamaria. Surely the only other woman aboard would...
The thought trailed as she heard some commotion behind her. Turning, she saw Anamaria in consultation with a man whose name she did not know. She walked towards them to ask what was wrong, but the words did not come. She saw it for herself.
The Revenge was heading right for them.
**
Killian had set the stage so to speak and stared at the shackled, weak, and trembling form of Will Turner remembering when he'd held Bootstrap Bill in this very place. Well, not in this very place. That damnable Jack Sparrow had arrived just before Killian had come ashore and somehow gotten the drop on him. Sparrow had cost him dearly. The ritual worked best with young victims, though not too young. A child would have not enough energy to stave off Killian's death. Bootstrap had been a bit older than Killian preferred, but his son was the perfect age! Killian could almost feel the rush of energy already!
The Wooden Box he placed at Will's head and opened it. The pulsing was rapid and anticipatory. Killian placed the candles, lit them, and prepared himself carefully, changing his clothes into the ceremonial robes he always wore here.
Finally ready, he intoned the strange ancient words he'd learned. The Wooden Box pulsed more rapidly with each word. Each time the brightness increased, Will Turner would moan and try to move, but the drugs Killian had forced on him left him too weak to do more than shift his head, and soon the strength to do even that was gone.
Killian's eyes went momentarily wide, but then he clenched thenm tightly closed as a sheen of sweat broke out on his feverish brow. He raised his blade high above his head and brought it down in a hard, clean stroke
only to hear a metallic clang as it hit metal instead of the comforting wet smack it should have made.
Opening his eyes in confusion, Killian beheld a sight he never thought to see.
"Hey, Mate! Remember me?" Jack cooed, winking one kohl rimmed eye. "Captain Jack Sparrow!" He gestured to Will. "You can't 'ave 'im." With that, Jack pulled back his sword and brought it down hard on the manacles that held Will in place. They fell away from Will's body, but Will himself didn't move.
Jack hadn't even looked at what he was doing, his eyes riveted to Killian's and full of hatred. "You need to learn mate, that eventually, you have to pay the piper!" Jack turned then and in an almost elegant spin moved around the stone altar his friend lay upon and engaged Killian in swordplay.
To Be Continued
Review Responses:
Padfoot4ever: Well, that clears that up! LOL! Really, my sincere thanks! I am more flattered than I can say, and I am thrilled that you enjoy what I've written.
Jackfan2: *grin* Thanks! (You'd let me know if Jack was out of character, right?)
Kandra: Really insightful! Or maybe I'm just transparent! You hit really close to the mark, only off by some details. For those details, you'll have to keep coming back for the next chapter! Hee! I like your description of Jack, that he thinks like he walks! I think that's what makes him such a fun character!
Sethoz: Thanks! I hope this was quick enough!
Daine: I was thrilled to get your review because you are the first person to mention the Billy Joel reference! I was beginning to think no one caught it or no one listens to Billy! (I'm a huge BJ fan! I was sure everyone was going to call me on that or tell me it was silly or something!) You're right, someone should do a songfic!
Rachel the Insane: Well, loss for words or not, that was a wonderful and flattering review! I'm glad you're enjoying it!
Liquidiamond: Thanks! Soon enough for you?
Luke Skywalker: Thanks! (BTW, Love your name!)
Tithen Min: Hi and thanks! You really know how to flatter a girl! In answer to your question, yeah, there's stuff I can't do. I tried my hand at Stargate fanfic once, but I couldn't quite get it. The stuff that I do postthose are my deepest obsessions! Thanks for the review!
ErinRua: I am really grateful that you pointed that out. I should have used a reference book or the internet, but I was in a hurry and just looked up keelhaul in the dictionary. It was much less detailed than your definition. I've altered the time frame to a much more vague reference to how long he was under there, but if you think it's still unrealistic, let me know and I will alter the punishment. Thanks so much for letting me know about that. As for the rest of your reviewyou had me blushing. Thanks!
FalconStorm: Thank you for reviewing. I hope none of this is disappointing.