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 amusementand, I hope, for the amusement of whoever reads it!
Sorry this took so long. Thanks for the wonderful reviews! I've replied as usual at the end. In startling contrast to my last chapter, I've gotten many more reviews than usual. KEEP IN MIND, THOSE OF YOU WHO PAY ATTENTION TO SUCH THINGS, REVIEW RESPONSES TAKE UP ABOUT TWO PAGES AT THE END OF THIS CHAPTER! Your reviews keep me going and I am grateful that you each took the time to send one.
A Pirate's Life and Death part 13 by Ecri
Elizabeth Swann watched Will Turner and Captain Jack Sparrow as they clashed swords, moving swiftly yet gracefully across the deck of the Black Pearl. She saw their concentration, their anticipation of each other's moves, but she also saw the hint of a smile on Will's face. He was enjoying this. They had been weeks at sea already, and he had been weeks recovering from his ordeal at the hands of the mad pirate who'd tried to steal his life. Thanks to Jack, Commodore Killian was dead, and her dear Will was restored to healthand to her.
She worried he might push himself too much in his desire to be well, but she soon realized that Jack would never permit that. While it seemed he was as raucous as the rest of his crew, he was always aware of how tired Will was even before Will himself seemed aware of it. In such cases, Jack would call an end to whatever festivities, distractions, or games in which Will was participating, or he would suggest a quiet stroll on the deck, or ask Will if he wanted to use his cabin for a quiet moment with Elizabeth.
Will had used Jack's cabin for some weeks while he recovered, but as soon as he felt he was strong enough, which was much sooner that anyone else would have suggested, he insisted that Jack take back the cabin. Will claimed he would be comfortable in crew quarters, and, though some of the crew doubted this, he took to it as though born on the sea. If he hadn't earned the respect of the crew in so many other ways, this alone might have done it for him.
A small laugh from Will drew her attention back to the pair in time for her to see Jack drop his arm across Will's shoulder's with a smirk on his face as he whispered something to his young friend that Elizabeth couldn't hear. She smiled anyway just from the joy of hearing him so happy.
In a moment, they were sparring again, the clatter of sword against sword ringing through the air. Elizabeth could tell Will was tiring. His movements were just slightly less sharp. His parries carried slightly less power.
She was about to suggest they stop when she heard a voice behind her.
"They're putting on quite a show for you."
Elizabeth turned to see Anamaria standing slightly behind her. She offered the only other woman aboard a smile as she turned back to her scrutiny of Will and Jack. "They are indeed. It seems they're teaching each other a lot, too."
Anamaria laughed. "Jack will teach that boy every sneaky, underhanded trick he knows!"
Elizabeth smile twisted into a smirk as she tried not to laugh to hard and distract the combatants. "Yes, somehow, I can't see Jack adapting to the formal rules of engagement very well!" She sobered then and watched the fight for a moment. Then she turned to face Anamaria, who took a wary step back at the look in her eye.
"Anamaria, how long have you known Jack?"
"A while."
"Why?"
"Did you know Will's father?" Elizabeth's eyes scanned the other woman's face searching for some glimmer, some hint of the information she needed.
"No. I didn't meet him until after the mutiny." She paused as though unsure if she should add anything else. Then she looked Elizabeth in the eye. "I never knew him to speak about William Turner unless he was drunk."
Elizabeth's puzzled look prompted further explanation.
"He told me once that he thought of William Turner–Bootstrap Bill–as a brother. He says they were close. Them and a man named Nick. He said they were closer than kin. When Nick died, Jack and Bill grew even closer. He said he'd hoped Bill had escaped Barbossa, but he'd heard soon enough of what they'd done to him.
Elizabeth nodded sadly. "The cannon."
"Aye, the cannon. Tales like that are quick to be told, though I'm sure he who first told it left out the part about them all bein' undead." She looked at Elizabeth. "Of course, that's the part that makes it at all possible that Bill Turner could still be alive."
"Do you think it could be true, Anamaria? I'd hate to think that Will's hope could be kindled and dashed all in the space of one trip aboard the Pearl."
"All hopes are kindled and dashed in the space of one trip aboard the Pearl."
Elizabeth stared at her thinking it an odd statement to make, but before she could inquire, Anamaria spoke again. "I suppose it's as likely as not that Bootstrap is alive. After all, many thought Captain Jack Sparrow to be dead before he reappeared after the mutiny." She smiled wryly. "Many thought he'd breathed his last at Port Royal when he was headed for the hangman's noose."
Elizabeth nodded remembering the day clearly. She'd certainly thought the man beyond saving. She'd stood there insisting that it wasn't right that they hang Jack, but her words fell on deaf ears. She remembered Will coming over to where she had stood with Commodore Norrington and her father. She remembered how her heart had skipped a beat when she recognized him. She had never seen him so well dressed, and the look on his face when he told her that he loved her had indeed taken her breath away making it that much easier for her to insist that she couldn't breath. Fainting as she had had only been a diversion, of course, and she had soon stood again desperate to see what Will was up to.
She still couldn't quite comprehend the grace and strength of his movements. He and Jack had moved in concert as though in some familiar choreography. They appeared to be completely aware of how the other would react and responded as though they'd spent hours rehearsing, planning, and perfecting each and every action in response to those who would dare move against them.
Quite suddenly, she recalled something that Jack had told her when she had convinced him to search for Will. After he had set the Pearl's course to Scratch, she had again expressed surprise that he was so reticent to try to save the man who had saved his life. Jack had, by that time, imbibed just enough rum–keeping the bottles far from her and mumbling something about her probably trying to burn it–to say more than he would have otherwise.
She'd seen a faraway look come into his eyes, and he had whispered, "It's not yer place, me lad. It's not yer place at all. You don't belong there. Not younot yer fathernot to save the likes of me."
Only now did she realize what he had meant. She remembered Commodore Norrington's haughty remark to Will that he had forgotten his place. She remembered his reply word for word because it had sent a thrill of admiration and love through her as his soft, sincere voice dared this military man to challenge him. It's right here, between you and Jack. Only then had she thought to stand beside Will in defense of the Pirate Captain.
She shook herself from her thoughts to find Anamaria staring at her quizzically. Smiling slightly and brushing away the unasked question, she turned her attention back to Will and Jack just as they decided to call an end to the practice.
"Three hours a day, lad? Why on earth would you want to do this sort of thing three hours a day?" Jack asked the question as he examined his blade for any nicks or scrapes from the extended practice session. They hadn't quite managed Will's preferred length, but they'd been more than double the length Jack usually endured.
"I had little else to do except make the swords. I felt I'd be better at crafting them if I knew how to use them." He wiped the blade carefully cleaning its edges before pulling out a whetstone and restoring the sharpness of the edge. "The truth is, I'd seen too many impractical, ornate hilts that impaired a man's fighting. The right balance isn't worth much if a man's hand cramps because of too much ornamentation."
Jack nodded. "How practical of you." He grinned a bit and leaned closer to the boy. "Still, three hours a day seems a bit excessive."
"I" Will flushed and glanced briefly towards Elizabeth. "I wished to beimpressive."
Jack laughed. "You wished to be less frustrated, mate! Many's the man who wishes such a thing! To think how close I was to right when I accused you of being a eunuch."
Will glared at his friend. "Jack!"
"Sorry, matebut you have to admit"
"No more than you have to admit that you're no match for me with a sword." Will insisted.
Jack sputtered for a moment and was prepared to draw his own sword once more until he caught the twinkle in Will's eyes. "Nice try at the baitin', Will me lad. Nowoff to your lass before she accuses me of endangerin' your 'ealth."
***
Jack watched Elizabeth fuss over Will for a few moments before he turned and headed towards Gibbs who manned the wheel. "Gibbs, how're we doin'?"
"We've picked up speed as I'm sure you can tell." He indicated the sails, full and straining. "We should be able to make it to port in less than a day." He paused and looked the Captain in the eye. "Do ye think we'll be able to find some word of Bootstrap Bill there?"
"I wouldn't know where else to start, so I hope we do." Jack stared out at the horizon, a dark blue line separating the bright blue sky from the sparkling blue sea. "I don't think it'll be all that easy to find 'im, unless 'e wants to be found." He shrugged. "Since 'e's out lookin' for meor was the last we 'eard, I suppose 'e must stop occasionally at a few of me old favorite 'aunts."
His thoughts drifted to those favorite old haunts, and with vivid clarity he saw in his mind's eye, himself and his only two friends: Nick and William. The three of them had spent many a shore leave drinking rum and carousing with women. The island they were heading to know boasted one of their favorite pubs.
The Painted Parrot had served many a rum to the trio of pirates from the Pearl. The boisterous talk and laughter, the tall tales, the dares, the lewd comments
The coalescing images in his mind brought forth a memory that had not surfaced in well over a decade. He, Nick, and William had just arrived at the Painted Parrot. They'd been particularly long at sea, and had a hefty portion of riches to show for it. Round after round of rum was ordered and drunk as the trio glanced about the room trying to determine with which lovely lasses they might spend the evening.
They were less drunk then they appeared, for their tolerance for rum was quite high. The drinking was more an outward excuse for their behavior than it was actually affecting them. As they egged each other on and told more and more outrageous tales, William had shifted his chair back slightly jostling the chair behind him so slightly that he hadn't even noticed. That is, he hadn't noticed until the man occupying it stood suddenly before him an irate look in his eyes.
William, knowing the man was spoiling for a fight stood and the two exchanged silent glares for a moment or two. Jack and Nick watched in bemused silence. They would get involved if they were needed.
William and the man stood facing each other for a moment. "Name's Pete. I don't much care what yours might be."
William's eyes twinkled a bit, a mischievous look in his eyes as he smirked at the man. "What makes you think I care what yours is?"
The man scowled, and he and William exchanged a few choice words. When the man suddenly swung at William's head, the blow was handily blocked. William even spared a wink for Jack and Nick assuring the two he was fine.
Pete, large and well muscled, obviously relied on his size to frighten his opponents. His moves were clumsy, ungainly, but the power behind his blows was crippling if you took the full force of them. William dodged lightly under the big man's arm, bringing down all of his weight in a two-handed fist on his neck. The blow was enough to stun his opponent, giving William a moment to step back and draw his sword. When the man whirled around angrily to face him, he stopped at the sight of William's blade inches from his own nose.
Pete put up a hand slowly as though in surrender, then quickly moved his hand to his own sword hilt, gasping in surprise when he found it empty. The shock of not finding his weapon there drew his attention away from William and he looked bewildered at the floor as though expecting that he had dropped the sword.
"Are ye lookin' fer this, then, mate?" A cool, calm voice–barely above a whisper–asked.
Jack Sparrow could tell the man hadn't taken proper notice of him before because Pete's eyes were nearly dropping from their sockets at the sight of him. Keeping his own smile small though allowing a slightly mad gleam to show in his eyes, he waved Pete's sword in his own face. Jack hadn't long been courting the image of a Mad Pirate, but he knew he wore it to good effect. A wide strip of cloth was wrapped around his long, dark hair, and bits of bead were braided into it as well as into his beard. Kohl rimmed his eyes lending a strange cast to his overall appearance though the odd swaying and seemingly random motions were probably what sold the look.
"Give it back!" Pete thundered, eliciting nothing more than a slight smile.
Jack cocked his head to one side and seemed to be seriously considering the request. Pete stared at him expectantly.
"I'd like to, mate. I really would. Truth is" He leaned slightly forward and spoke in a softer conspiratorial tone. "I 'ate violence. The best thing for you to do now, I would think, is tobuy us a drink and apologize to my friend 'ere." Jack gestured towards William who had not let down his own guard, though, with his sword still steady, his eyes danced with suppressed merriment.
With a speed Pete couldn't have hoped to follow he found himself now facing William's sword, his own sword in the hands of this madman, the madman's swordand a fourth. He looked at the fourth sword and followed the blade with his eyes until he reached the hilt. There, his opponent's other friend stared back at him with danger in his eyes.
Raising his hands and shrugging slightly, he mumbled. "No 'arm done. No 'arm at all!" He backed away a step or two, and only when the mad looking pirate in braids and beads nodded, did he turn and run for the exit.
The others in the pub laughed raucously at the retreating figure and Jack only shrugged. Tossing his newly acquired, yet unwanted, sword towards the barman, he called out loudly. "That ought to buy us a few bottles! Keep the rum coming! We're a thirsty lot!"
Jack shook his head at the memory, and noticed Gibbs still staring at him. "What? Full ahead, and let me know if ye see anythin' on the way." He turned and headed for his cabin, still lost in thought. If William Turner the elder were still alive, he'd hear word of it in The Painted Parrot.
**
The Painted Parrot was still a lively place for a man to find a bit of entertainment whether he preferred the company of women or of rum. On a night like this, the man who called himself Bootstrap had plenty of both. He threw around plenty of money, trying to drown his own sorrows. His quest had failed. He had never quite been able to find any of those he'd sought. His friend was dead. His family was gone. The search had gotten him nothing. Seeking solace in the goings on at the Parrot was all he had left.
He'd faced the fact that his quest to find his friend had failed long ago, but it left his life empty. Embracing piracy had been all he could do. There was no family for him to return to and piracy was something he'd always been good at. Of course, in recent years, it had become more and more difficult to avoid donating his footwear to the hangman. He'd soon realized that the more ruthless a crew he signed on with made it less likely that he'd be caught. He recalled his friend. The one who'd swore to him once that one day he'd be Captain of the Black Pearl. He'd been right about that, and Bootstrap, as he now called himself, abandoning any claim to his Christian name, had not been surprised that he'd managed to do it.
He reached for his glass downing the remaining rum in one long gulp and calling again for the barman. Abandoning the dark thoughts, he gestured for one of the pub's girls to join him, and soon all thoughts of the startlingly wrong path his life had taken were gone.
After a few more drinks, the two headed off to the young woman's room. Bootstrap's nights were usually filled with encounters like this one, and his anticipation seemed heightened somehow, perhaps because of the unhealthy dose of self-pity in which he'd wallowed earlier. He followed the girl to her rooms and they wasted little time setting a price and getting to her business and his pleasure.
**
The first feeble hint of the sun's attempt to reclaim its dominance in the sky had not yet even begun to tint the world with its rosy glow when Bootstrap found himself awake and sitting up in bed. Something had woken him, but he couldn't recall what it had been. Tossing aside the bedsheets, he reached for his trousers, which he'd carelessly tossed onto the chair in the wench's corner. Unnoticed, a small gold band slid from his pocket to hit the floor.
Taking a look out of the window, Bootstrap breathed in deeply, but the scent of the tropical flowers mingled with the salt air did nothing to sooth his mind. Struck from behind, he felt himself falling before he could understand quite where the threat had come from.
He stared up at his attacker from the floor recognizing him in an instant. "You!" He cried out before he could stop himself. The other man nodded grimly and held a knife at Bootstrap's throat. "Aye, it's me. I've taken all I can from you. I've tracked you all over the Caribbean and now" Before he could finish whatever he was about to say, there was a crash of breaking porcelain followed by a cascade of the broken pieces of a shattered lamp falling all over Bootstrap. He looked up and grinned at his evening's entertainment. "Thanks, love. Good shot."
She grinned at him. "I didn't 'ave a choice. You ain't paid me yet!"
With a laugh, the man tossed his now unconscious attacker off of him and stood. Seeing the small gold ring that had earlier slipped from his pocket, he picked it up and slid it back where it belonged.
Brushing the last bits of porcelain dust from his clothes and hair, he sighed. It wouldn't be easy, but the least he could do was carry the unconscious man out of the girl's room. After all, she could hardly do it, and she had saved his life.
"All right, love. I'll clear up the mess and then you and I can talk about a repeat performance and, in light of what you've done for mea small bonus." He winked at her, and, knowing how much the girl loved pretty baubles, reached for a small impressive looking, but actually inexpensive bracelet he knew she would like.
The girl squealed in delight snatching the jewelry from his hand.
He smiled at her reaction and lifted the heavy man from her bare floor. Dragging him out of the room and down the stairs, he tossed him in the alley. He considered killing the man, but the chase was half the fun. He'd leave it until the next time they met, which, knowing how stubborn and persistent the man was, wouldn't be long.
To Be Continued
Jackfan2: I'm glad you're enjoying this!
Rachel the Insane Unicorn: Yes, the pun in that line about the turnings of Turner's mind was intentional. I'm glad you liked it! It's all worth while when someone notices!
LordLanceahlot: Thanks! I was trying to keep them selfless but believably so, and, as for Jack being awesomeHee! That's wonderful! What a compliment!
WakingDream: Thanks! I've always hoped that something I write might stay with my readers! I'm tickled that it was that scene, because it's the sort of thing I love to read myself. I'm getting more and more compliments on Jack, and since I started this fic purposely to see if I was at all capable of writing a character as complex and fun as Jack, I can't think of any better reaction to it! I'll try to keep the chapters coming more quickly now. It's one of my New Year's resolutions!
Panther7x: I do appreciate constructive criticism, and I do recognize that this review was not a flame. I commend you for having the courage to post it. Most people don't want to criticize for fear of offending. I'm sorry to hear that you thought Jack irritating in the beginning. Could you tell me just what was irritating? I'm also sorry I lost you after chapter 6. I know there's a lot of different things going on, but for me, a story has to be satisfying emotionally as well as in the action sense. That means I like the comfort part of the hurt/comfort scenario just as much as the action and adventure parts of the action/adventure. I'll keep in mind what you've said, however. I'm not sure what weird, detached, cynical vibe you meant. Could you please send an e-mail to let me know?
Caitlin: I'm overwhelmed! It's a privilege to have been your first fanfiction read. I'm thrilled that I kept you in the fanfiction world! I remember my first taste of fanfiction! I was stunned that this was going on without my knowledge for so long! Thanks! Keep reading, and don't be shy about posting your own stories!
Catherinexxix: I promise to finish this story. I can't say how many chapters there will be, but I can promise that I'll do my best to keep it interesting! If I'm ever taking too long with an update, feel free to let me know! I'm glad you find my language choices appropriate and my characters "in character" as well as the lovely way you describe how much you enjoy my Jack Sparrow. I'm thrilled that so many people like him.
AcagedbirD: Thanks! I'll try to write more again very soon!
TheRowan: Thanks and welcome back! I'm sorry you gave up on me, but I am thrilled that you've found you're way back! The story will take some time to tell, so if you think I'm losing you again, let me know!
Kirsten Wahlquist: Ouch! Sorry! Of course, while I am sorry, I'm also flattered! I'll try to keep the updates coming!
Mon2: Thanks! I've got a lot of questions about Bootstrap, too, which is how this thing started! Thank you for marking me down as one of your faves! That means a lot!
Pixie Wildfire: Okay! How's this! More soon. I promise.
Nyx, inu lover: Once again, I'm flattered! Keep checking back for updates!
AnneWithane: Hi! Thanks! I do love the West Wing, and I'm thrilled that you're a fan of my work in that fandom. I want to let you know I am working on a sequel to Non Sum Qualis Eram. It's a long one, so I don't know when it will be done, especially since I'm in the middle of one POTC and one LOTR fic right now. Your compliments are really appreciated and really made my day!
Liz: Hee! I absolutely love it when people quote some lines back to me! I'm glad you liked that one and that you think I have a "particularly fantastic 'Jack' voice", Jack being a big part of the reason I started writing this. Thanks again! Keep reading!