Thanks to all who have reviewed and sincerest apologies for the delay in posting this chapter. I struggled through the longest bout of writer's block I've ever suffered, and as soon as that was finally over, my computer headaches started. For quite sometime, I had a most unreliable internet connection, and my computer then chose to implode erasing more than half my data. I lost a good bit of this story thanks to a faulty backup disk, and it took some time to piece it together.
With a bit of luck, all of that is behind me. I do hope you enjoy this chapter.
Reviews are appreciated. Forgive me for not responding to reviews this time out, but I will get to them next time.
Enjoy!A Pirate's Life and Death part 17
By Ecri
Rain pelted the deck of The Queen of Diamonds, but her crew could not distinguish even sheets of such drops from the bombardment of the sea itself. Reflecting the clouded and ever-darkening sky, the Cimmerian sea swelled and dropped, rose and fell in great undulations tossing the small ship from crest to crest as a child tossed a ball from hand to hand. To a man, her crew knew that reaching shore now, before the brunt of the storm struck, was all that could save them.
The crew worked ceaselessly tying down what had worked loose, holding on to crewmates in danger of being thrown from the relative safety of the ship, and, in the captain's case, using all the brute strength a man possessed to fight the whim of Mother Nature. It took more effort than the man would have believed he possessed just to keep the once sturdy but now fragile seeming ship heading towards the relative safety of shore.
One man clung desperately to a rope that he'd been trying to secure just as the deck fell away from his feet. The thin line of rope became all that kept him from flying away from the ship and plummeting to the depths, and though fear gripped his heart, he never uttered a sound as that would only force him to swallow great mouthfuls of water.
He could not see for the driving rain and crashing waves only forced him to peer out at the world through half-closed eyes when he dared to look at all. He could not hear anything save the sound of the ship's bottom repeatedly hitting the water as it fell from some height as the sea itself dropped from beneath it along. Even the sound of men calling to each other as they fought a losing battle against nature's own fury, no matter how fiercely shouted, could not penetrate the roar of the sea itself.
The man dangled from the end of his rope like a fish at the end of a fishing line. He had heard one of his shipmates shout that land was nearby, but he had his doubts as to whether the Queen would make this berth. He wished, not for the first time, that the captain had anchored, but he understood the captain's reasoning. The Queen had good reason to try to reach the island rather than wait out the storm.
Will Turner continued to stare at the darkening horizon until an unexpected sight caught his attention. Will almost allowed himself to hope that he saw The Black Pearl returning, but recognition killed hope as he realized the ship approaching was too small to be Jack's.
He watched as the ship, hidden from his sight before now by weather and distance, struggled against the wind and rain making as much progress to starboard as it did towards the dock. He saw one man clinging to a rope as it flapped from side to side first swinging out over the water and then swinging back over the wildly pitching deck.
He took a step closer, knowing he would not be able to help, but unable to keep himself back. The fight for life he witnessed snapped him from his melancholy as quickly as a lit candle pushed back darkness. He saw other figures on the deck struggling with tasks he could not name from this distance, and he moved unconsciously towards the dock. The ship would make berth, or sink, or crash into another ship, or run aground on the beach depending on the whim of the weather and the skill of the men aboard.
He couldn't do much to help them until one of these things happened, but he would be there if anyone lived. Breaking into a run, he soon found himself alongside others of the town and of other docked ships all turning out to offer help.
There weren't many charitable souls to be sure. Most residents of the island had either sought high ground or boarded up their homes or businesses intending to wait out the storm. Will saw the man who'd hired him and several sailors from two of the most recently docked pirate ships. His attention was soon drawn back to the sea as the small approaching ship struggled towards port.
He supposed they were lucky the brunt of the storm had not yet hit otherwise it would have been impossible to stand up to the winds.
Will barely dared to breathe as the ship approached. Mesmerized by the horrifying dance of destruction as the waves pounded the ship, Will watched that one lone figure still clinging to the rope waving through the water saturated air. The ship was close enough now that some of the sailors were actually throwing themselves into the sea hoping they could swim to shore and escape the almost certain destruction of their ship.
Searching frantically for a way to help, his eyes finally alighted upon a strong, though thoroughly drenched coil of rope. Seizing his hands upon it at the same moment that his mind seized upon the mad notion that spurred him forward, Will tied one end of the rope to a nearby rowboat and searched desperately for something strong enough to anchor him to shore in the storm.
In moments, he'd secured the loose end to a beached, rusted anchor. He'd have preferred something stronger, but it was the best he could do. Almost as an afterthought, he spared a moment to find a second rope and tied it to the first rope just above the knot that secured the first rope to the boat. Then he took the loose end and tied it as tightly as he could bear it around his waist. Now, even should the increasingly fragile looking boat be splintered by the waves, he himself would still have a lifeline leading back to shore.
As ready as he could be, Will Turner climbed into the rowboat and began to paddle towards the troubled ship.
Clinging desperately to the wind-whipped rope, the sailor had lost his ability to see, to hear, to taste. He was aware of nothing except his determination to hold onto his last lifeline. His hands were numb from their white-knuckled grip, and his throat was raw from the screaming he'd done earlier. Surprise had melted into fear at finding himself in midair and the screams had been torn from his throat. Inadvertently swallowing rain and waves, he'd sputtered and coughed until he was sure he'd never be able to speak again.
Through it all, his only thought was to hold on. He repeated it in his mind again and again until the words lost all meaning and he was no longer sure what he was meant to be holding on to. Was it physical? He couldn't feel his hands. Was it emotional? His only emotion right now was fear. Was it mental? His only thought was holdonholdonholdonholdon
He would never remember letting go of that rope, and indeed, he never did, but the rope itself followed no code, held to no mantra, and clung with much less desperation to the Queen of Diamonds. When it snapped, the sailor had no way of knowing that he was now plummeting through the air with nothing to hold onto except the meaningless words that still repeated in his mind
Striking the water was a physical shock that jarred one thought from his mind. His mouth filled with water and the pirate choked on it, the taste of sand and silt churned through the sea by Mother Nature's rage raising bile to his throat.
He forced it down and shook his head in a futile attempt to clear his vision. Perhaps it was habit, perhaps fear, and perhaps a combination of these things, but as he tried to keep his head above water, the man's thoughts were once more overpowered by one repeated and now meaningless phrase.
Will's entire being was focused on not drowning and on reaching the ship. What help he could offer he knew would be limited, but even if he could pull but one man from the water, it would be worth the dangers he faced.
He couldn't have heard it. He could never have heard such a thing in such a deluge. Between the rain and the wind, he could not see, could not hear, and could barely breathe, but something drew his attention upward in time to see the man swinging from the end of a rope. As he watched, squinting into the driving rain in an effort to protect his eyes, Will's heart literally skipped a beat as the rope to which the man clung snapped. Time seemed to slow as the man arced through the air, but sped up again as the pirate plummeted through the surface of the storm churned water.
As thought abandoned him, instincts took firm hold, and Will found himself rowing for all he was worth towards the spot where the man had sunk beneath the dark water. His eyes surveyed the area for any hint, any sign that the man was alive and could be rescued. He reached the end of his tether, the rope pulling him up short. Dropping the oar onto the bottom of the boat, he leaned forward peering desperately across the water.
When the man broke the surface of the water sputtering and spitting, Will wasted no time. Reaching out a hand towards the wildly flailing limbs, he took hold of the pale, tensed hand. Will struggled to hold on as the man seemed unable to recognize for a moment that someone had found him.
A moment later, the man's other hand came up to join the first and clung to Will with the desperation of someone aware of his own imminent death. It took strength and luck to haul the man aboard the tiny boat without flooding it. When Will succeeded in that task, he took up the oar once more and headed toward shore. All the while, his eyes darted from wave to wave hunting for any others of the ship's crew who might have tumbled from her deck or rigging. He checked the condition of the man he'd rescued, frowning to see he'd lost consciousness. He could only pray the man lived.
The trip back seemed to take much longer and more than once, Will was certain the guide rope had snapped and, losing his sense of direction in the wind, rain, and waves, he was likely rowing away from shore.
The storm was intensifying and Will, finding it difficult to breathe in the growing winds and nearly impossible to see in the driving rain. It was because of this that, when he first noticed a glow on the horizon just ahead of him, it didn't make any impression. How long it glowed, bright and growing brighter, before it was joined by another much smaller light, then another and another, he couldn't have guessed. The sight of those lights, torches he guessed, gave him a goal and he began to row towards them. Be they the Sirens Gibbs had once told him of, their song drowned out by the cacophonous storm, Will had little choice but to take his chances.
As he rowed, he felt the boat's speed increasing beyond what he could achieve with his tired limbs fighting the raging storm. It took precious moments to work it out, but soon he realized the rope was being pulled from shore.
Smiling in jubilant relief, he increased his efforts with the oar, hoping only that the man he had tried to hard to save would live. He saw the shoreline then and could make out a small, dark shape that he took to be people huddled around a large fire built upon the beach. The smaller lights he'd seen were indeed torches, and another dark shape–more men–pulling on the end of the rope. He raised a hand to wave, unsure if he could be seen, when the boat rocked and pitched hard to starboard. Will lowered his hand and fought for balance. In the instant that he lost it, he had time enough only to grab a hold of the unconscious man in the bottom of his boat before a wave hit the small craft sending its occupants down into the sea.
Elizabeth stared at the door to Jack's quarters. She'd taken to lingering in the general area whenever her duties aboard ship permitted. Duties she had had to insist Jack give to her. Sitting around day after day trying to fill her time in ways other than worrying about Will's condition and the intentions of the madman who held him would have driven her mad in short order. She'd learned enough about sailing in her many voyages, and she was beginning to believe any memories she had of being anywhere except on the Pearl were dreams or figments of her imagination.
The door to Jack's quarters rarely moved. She's been sitting here whenever she could hoping the proximity to Will might be a comfort to him even though he couldn't know she was there. She took what little comfort she could from knowing she was as close to him as she could be. She'd pleaded with Jack do somethingbut he'd stopped her words with his own.
"What would ye 'ave me do, lass? Break down the door? Will would be dead before the splintered wood hit the deck." He'd raised a hand to gesture to some of the crew who worked nearby. "Would you want us to run in there and overwhelm 'im? 'E'd shoot Will or slit 'is throat before we could take 'im." His harsh words had softened as he placed a hand on each of Elizabeth's shoulder's, looked her in the eye, and dropped his voice to just above a whisper. "I'll not let Will come to 'arm, Elizabeth. One way or another, that boy will walk off this ship in Port Royal under 'is own power. I give you me word."
She'd believed him. Every word he uttered, and she wondered now what Commodore Norrington, or even her father would think of that. Taking the word of a Pirate as one would take the word of a gentleman–they'd be scandalized. They could barely bring themselves to admit that Will was a decent man.
She didn't know if this made her gullible or stupid in their eyes, but neither opinion could change her mind. Captain Jack Sparrow was a good manand a pirate. Will Turner was a good manand a blacksmithbut he was a pirate, too. Whether such a thing could truly be in someone's bloodwhether a man could be predisposed to a life of piracy because his father or his father's father had been one she couldn't say. She tended to believe that it didn't really work that way. Sure, Will's blood had been needed to end the Curse of the Aztec Gold, but that had had more to do with lineage and with the fact that he was standing in for his father.No, she couldn't believe pirates only came from pirate blood anymore than she could believe that every man who was in the Navy had a father who had been. The sea was a fickle mistressshe'd heard that and similar axioms all her life. Not all were irrefutable, but Elizabeth knew that if the right man heard the sounds of the sea, tasted the salt spray and smelled the salt air, one moment was all it would take for him to be lost.
She also knew something that few others knew. Women could be seduced by it as easily as men could. AnaMaria was proof of that. She herself was proof of that.
Whether Will had fallen under the spell of the clear, blue waters of the Caribbean, she didn't know. They hadn't talked of it in quite those terms, though they both spent a good bit of time staring out at those waters. It seemed a natural enough thing to do when you lived on an island. She'd never paused to consider what effect the waters would have on her pirate. She did see him that way. She supposed it was because of that first impression. Finding him half-drowned, unconscious, and floating amidst the burning wreckage of a ship that had turned out to have been attacked by pirates. Then there was the medallion.
Curious about the identity of the young boy who'd appeared out of nowhere, she'd picked up the long chain that hung around his neck and examined it, gasping in shock at what she'd discovered. You're a pirate, she'd whispered in shock, suddenly remembering Norrington's words about a short drop and a sudden stop. She'd been certain they'd hang him. Now, looking back with the wisdom of her years, she knew they wouldn't have hung a boy so young. Of course, the same wisdom told her his life would likely have been worse had others believed him a pirate. Public opinion was part of her world. It grabbed hold of a thing and made it more–or less–than it was. As the victim of a pirate attack, Will was given some modicum of sympathy from the residents of Port Royal. Including the Governor who allowed his young daughter to play with the boy who was so far beneath her station. As a young pirate, he'd likely have ended up living on the streets, breaking laws just to find food enough to live.
She sighed exasperated by the thoughts. Those wordswhen she'd thought him a pirate were echoed years later as she stood with him watching Jack Sparrow make his escape. Her father had called Will a Blacksmith, and she had smiled, removed the rakish hat from the head of the man she loved, and whispered the same thought she'd had all those years ago. No. He's a pirate.
She'd seen it in him, the ability to take a situation and react to it, to do what needed doing, even if he feared it, even if he wasn't sure he could do it. Even if it meant he might lose what was dearest to him. Yes, he could lie if the situation called for it, but the lies didn't sit well with him. She recalled the moment he'd said that Jack had fallen behind when they'd first reached the commandeered Interceptor after Barbossa's plan had failed. He had hesitated. She'd been too astonished at the idea that he'd turned to a pirate, the very one who had threatened her, to come to her aid. Will had always despised pirates, questioning her fascination with them. She had assumed it was because of the attack on the ship as he'd been on his way to Port Royal. There must have been a great deal about that attack her'd never told her, or perhaps that he himself didn't remember. That he would turn to a pirate willingly to save her had astonished her. She'd known there was a tale in it, but they'd never had the time to talk until after Will had helped Sparrow escape his own hanging.
The heartache she felt at being so near to him yet unable to be at his side swelled suddenly to an almost unbearable intensity. Unable to sit still any longer, she rose and walked away from the door. There was little to occupy her right now, so she walked briskly across the deck hoping to relieve her anxieties with the physical activity. She caught sight of Jack steering the ship with an almost casual air. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, but he and Bootstrap Bill were talking in hushed tones. She was sure they were working on the plan neither had seen fit to share with her.
She still wasn't quite sure where they were headed, but Bootstrap's explanation of Nick's hatred had at least filled her in on what sort of man was holding her Will.She couldn't help but think, after hearing Bootstrap's story, that he and Jack Sparrow were truly horrendous judges of character. How could they have trusted a man like Nick? She'd asked Bootstrap that the night before, but he'd gotten a faraway look in his eyes, as though his thoughts played out before his eyes blocking from view the sight of the sea.
"Nick weren't always as 'e is now, lass. 'E was a good friend once. I mean, sure, 'e was a pirate, but, aside from that, Nick was always a good man." He smiled then, turning to look at her with a small smile on his face and a large twinkle in his eyes. "A good man and a good pirate'e was bothor at least Jack and me thought so."
With a sigh that turned the smile into a glower, Bootstrap told her about Nick. She could still hear his voice hesitant at times and racing as though he couldn't get the words out fast enough moments later.
"Nick resented Jack's takin' the Pearl fer 'is own. 'E'd wanted it. Nick went along with it fer awhile, but it wasn't somethin' 'e could learn 'live with."
Elizabeth listed to the man's words slowly forming a picture in her mind of how things must have been. Injured and recovering from Killian's drugs in much the way Will had been, Bootstrap had pieced things together as well as he could from things he learned from others aboard the Pearl, and from his own observations of Nick and Jack together. Nick's unwillingness to accept Jack as his Captain had led to a betrayal aboard the Pearl. One that had taken place long before Barbossa had left Bootstrap Bill at the bottom of the sea, and Jack Sparrow marooned, albeit for just three days, on a slip of an island with a gun, one bullet and a cache of illegal rum.
"Nick expected Jack to turn over the ship to 'im, and in all likelihood, 'e'd a done it."
"But?" Elizabeth prompted when the narrative stopped.
Bill shrugged. "It was a lotta things got in the way. At first, Jack was too busy worryin' about Killian followin' and about me recoverin'." He looked at her a bit sheepishly. "I wasin a bad way."
"YesI know." Elizabeth admitted, memories of Will and what he'd suffered in the very room where he was now locked and kept at knifepoint with the barest of medicinalshe broke off the thought and waited for Bill to continue.
"Jack kept givin' orders that we were to make best speed as far from Killian as we could. In those first days, there wasn't a lotta piratin' goin' on. We were runninand we were runnin' scared."
The way he'd said that, the way the word scared came as a half-whisper and a half-curse chased a chill up Elizabeth's spine. Running wasn't something any man was proud of, but running scaredElizabeth could see why. She remembered Jack's initial reluctance, his fear of going to Scratch. The island seemed to hold demons for him, and he'd faced those demons three times now. She supposed facing them that second time–with the realization that his memories from childhood hadn't been the exaggeration he'd convinced himself they must have been–that was what was still fresh in his mind, and that was what chased him as he left Killian behind. Killian catching up to them would have been bad enough, but the memories of shadow and demon and whatever else would fill the nightmares of a man like Sparrow, those things could have turned him from the Caribbean entirely. He might have sailed far from these white sanded shores and tried to put the tainted beauty of it all behind him. Instead, he'd cared for his friend, and, it seemed, fought for him.
"It was when we'd been runnin' for nigh on three weeks that the crew became restless. I've me own thoughts on just who'd planted the first seeds of doubt among 'em, but in the end, they demanded that Jack declare 'is intentions on 'ow they'd begin makin' the profit 'e'd promised 'em." Bill almost laughed then, but there had been so little laughter in his life recently that it came out more of a chuckle crossed with a clearing of the throat. "Jack always was one ta come up with a plan in an instant and pass it off as what 'e'd 'ad in mind for months!"
Elizabeth smiled.
"Good ol' Jack opened up 'is mouth and told the crew they'd been shortsighted if they'd fergotten that The Black Pearl was the fastest ship in the Caribbean. By the way 'e said it, you could tell 'e believed it, and, though not a one of us 'ad ever 'eard it said afore 'e said it, not a one of us said different."
Elizabeth pondered Jack's plan at the time as Bill had explained it to her. He'd promised the crew they'd have profit and profit is what they had. He had them looking at the horizon all around for some sign of ships. Ostensibly, rich ships to plunder, but Jack also believed if he saw Killian or one of his ships approaching, he could outrun them if he had early enough warning.
The crew believed him when he told them he'd heard of a ship making its way to the Caribbean that was rumored to hold more riches than any other ship ever to leave Europe. When they spotted ship after ship and took what they could, if any of them ever declared that this one couldn't be the one they were looking for, Jack would simply smile and agree. Then he'd shrug and say that there was no use turning up their noses at the bounty the good Lord sent their way. Still they looked for the fictional ship of gold and riches, and its description grew more garish and more unlikely with each other ship they took.Bootstrap admitted reluctantly that he'd suspected Nick's ambitions and greed had turned him against his friends, but he'd not denied his own uneasiness. Time after time, he convinced himself he hadn't seen any strange look in the man's eye, or that the challenging tone or bitter words had been imagined–the misconceptions of a mind still recovering from an ordeal that would surely haunt him for years to come.
"Jack didn't notice?" Elizabeth couldn't hide her surprise. If nothing else, Jack Sparrow seemed a shrewd man who took note of every opportunity, every shift in power. Certainly he'd have seen
Nick laughed. "Jack was distracted. I was ill, and 'e was the Captain of the Pearl. There was lots to do. Plans and plunderJack Sparrow was a busy man. If I'd a told 'im sooner"
"You blame yourself."
"What else can I do?" Nick sighed. "Jack risked his lifehis soulto save me, and I let Nick"
"You let him what?" Elizabeth had been certain that Bootstrap was about to break off the story and tell her nothing. Now, knowing the full story, she could almost wish he had.
Will's hands gripped tightly to the arms of the man he'd saved as they plunged beneath the surface of the Caribbean. Instincts told him to let go of the man, find the rope he'd tied to himself and use it to pull himself back to shore. Struggling under the deadweight, he shook his head as though to remind himself that that was not an option.
He knew the man would drown if he couldn't at least bring him up for air, so that's what he was trying to do, when the man began to struggle. Obviously having regained consciousness, the man had somehow realized he was underwater and struggled against the only grip he felt thinking Will meant him some harm.
His own feeble slaps at the man's hand had little impact, but it was enough. The man stopped struggling, and Will was able to make a move towards what he hoped was the surface. His head just broke through when he felt a sharp tug at his waist. Surprise and no small bit of pain didn't stop him from dragging his companion's head above water. When the man took a great gulp of air and rain, Will turned his attention towards the rope. He couldn't see the shore, but the way he was being pulled now, he realized meant that someone on shore had seen him. The rope was yanked hard and he and his companion–on whom he never lost his grip–were being pulled to safety.
It took several minutes and Will couldn't indulge in any sign of relief. It took all his strength to keep his and the other man's heads above water. Finally, he felt the soft sand beneath his feet and the touch of hands and press of bodies nearby as they reached for him dragging them both to safety. Will coughed up a bit of seawater, and brushed in vain at the hair and water in his eyes. He was gasping for breath trying both to thank his rescuers and to assess the condition of the man he'd saved.
Confusion settled on his tired brain as he finally got a good look at the other man. He lay on the sand sputtering and coughing up a great deal more seawater than Will had, and one hand pounded the sand as though doing so would dislodge the water and help him to breathe. The man's eyes widened as he turned to face Will, and recognition hit them both at the same time.
The man laughed, and even Will couldn't suppress a smile. "I never woulda guessed it were you draggin' me sorry behind from 'er clutches!" He jerked his head once toward the sea, and Will understood he referred to it as her'."I never woulda guessed it, Will Turner!"
Surprised that the man remembered his name, his smile grew. "I never would have guessed it was you I was saving, either, Mr. Trilby." Captain Jack Sparrow watched the sun set over the horizon wishing the sight held the same promise, the same sense of freedom it once had. With Will's life being threatened and Nick back in his life, however, the pirate was beginning to wonder if the freedom he'd let himself feel had been a lie all along. Was there any such thing, or was this all some sort of test or curse orsomething?Jack recalled the first time he'd realized things weren't as they seemed as far as Nick was concerned. It hadn't been long after he'd managed to rescue Bootstrap from Killian. They'd fallen into a routine of plundering every ship that came within sight of the Pearl, and had turned enough of a profit that the crew was beginning to seem well satisfied having Jack as their captain.
He'd taken no notice of Nick. It wasn't until it was too late that Jack had realized that his greatest enemy would turn out to be one of his dearest friends.
Nick had come to Jack's quarters one night after their most recent victory. The Pearl had just taken the riches from a trading vessel that had been nearly stocked to overflowing with more riches than the crew would have seen in 5 years of working for Killian. There was much celebrating and drinking of rum that night, but Jack had called it a night rather early and was checking on William's condition.
His friend was nearly recovered, and Jack felt safe in thinking Bootstrap would join the ranks of the crew by early the following week. William had just slipped into a light sleep when Nick burst into the room without knocking.
"We need to talk!"
"Shh!" Jack glanced at William. "'E's just gotten to sleep. I'll not 'ave you wake 'im."
To his surprise, Nick laughed. "Too busy playing nursemaid to deal with me, are you?"
Jack crossed the room and stood in front of his friend. "What is it?
"I was meant to be captain, Jack!"
"We've been through this! I only agreed to be captain because it was hardly the opportune moment to force them to accept you, Nick! Killian was too nearby, and William"Nick cut off his friend's explanation. "Jackwe had plans"
Jack looked away for a moment. He was tired. Infinitely tired. Trying to keep the peace between Nick andwell, between Nick and everyone else aboard was wearing him out. Nick tended to rub people the wrong way, and the crew of the Pearl had never quite trusted him since he'd been caught trying to take more than his share from a particularly profitable plunder. Killian hadn't been tolerant of such things, and Nick had been stripped of all the booty he'd hoarded over the past year, and flogged. It had been an overzealous flogging as far as Jack was concerned, and it had led to their friendship growing perhaps faster than it would have otherwise. Jack just hated it when those in power beat on those who were not. He'd risked his own neck by sneaking to Nick's quarters and leaving a bit of food and water for the other man. Of course, he'd hid his actions behind a façade of drunkeness and was never found out.
Nick had understood that it hadn't been a mistakethat the half-whispered excuses and apologies had been to hide the sneaky flourish with which Jack had concealed the water and food within the folds of the beaten man's clothes. Jack had caught the understanding and a flash of gratitude in his eyes, and had given the man the slightest of nods and a long look from his obviously sober eyes, before weaving and bobbing away with a swagger and a drunken slur of apologies over his clumsiness.
Jack knew Nick's plans had involved becoming Captain, but Jack wasn't about to risk William's life when he'd boarded the Pearl to find Nick at odds with everyone aboard while he struggled to get an unconscious William aboard.
"Nick, you need to be a bit patient. Once William is well enough, the three of us will sit down and talk over our plans. We'll put it right, Nick. You'll get what you want."
Now, looking back, Jack realized the look in Nick's eyes had been more avaricious then he'd noticed at the time. If he'd noticed it then, would Nick be holed up in his quarters holding Willliam's son hostage?
It wasn't long after this confrontation with Nick when William was feeling better. It was then that Jack asked Nick to come to his quarters and the three friends began to make plans in earnest.
"Ye've done well enough, Jack, as far as ye've been willing ta go, but now that Bootstrap's better, we can get back to the business of piratin'."
"What business is it you be thinkin' I've ignored?" Jack thought they'd been doing well enough in keeping out of Killian's way and in keeping the crew happy with the amount of riches they'd taken.
A strange look came over Nick's face then, a combination of greed, bloodlust, andsomething else Jack never could quite place.
"We could be the most feared pirate ship in the Caribbean, Jack! We could be the stuff of legend!" Nick leaned across the table staring wide-eyed at his friend and captain. "We should strike while we can. We've not 'eard a word about Killian, so 'e must be off lickin' 'is wounds! Without 'im to stand in our way, everything is ours!"
Jack smiled at Nick's enthusiasm. "What would ye 'ave us do? We've taken every vessel we've come close to since we left Killian behind at Scratch." Jack suppressed a shiver at the mention of the pirate and the place he'd last been seen, and he didn't miss the shadow that crossed William's features just then. His attention was half on William and half on Nick when Nick began his arguments.
"Jack! We should be doin' more than takin' things! We should be makin' a name for ourselves! Makin' all who sail these waters live in fear of the very sight of us! The thought of running across the Pearl should be a nightmare that keeps them from sleepin' until they've made port!" Nick's eyes flashed with anger just as Jack turned his full attention to the other man. Jack's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he shook it off. This was Nick. This was his friend.
"Nick, we're makin' a name for ourselves. We don't need to be the bloodiest boat to ever sail the seven seas in order to be good pirates. The crew is 'appy enough! We've kept 'em in riches, and we've kept ahead of Killian and the British Navy. We don't need to"
"Jack! Take what ye can, and give nothin' back! It doesn't mean take all that's within reach! It means take all that can be taken! That's what I want! I want it all!"
William laughed drawing the attention of both his friends. "Ye want it all? Well, if ye'ad it all, where would you put it?" He laughed again, long and hard until Jack joined in as well. He glanced at Nick expecting to see him smiling, but surprised to find him just glaring at William. Before he could say a word, William spoke first.
"We'll take what we can, Nick, and we'll be the best pirates we can be, but there's no 'arm in building to it slowly. We're lucky the crew has stayed with us, considering how it musta looked. You two draggin' my sorry self aboard half-dead and half-stupid from Killian's drugs" He shook his head in wonder. "I'm grateful to ye both for that." He shook off the sentimentality of the moment. "Nick, I know what you want, and we'll do it, I'm sure. It might take some time, but The Black Pearl is destined to be a name known from here to England. We won't be givin' that up"
He'd never had a chance to finish the thought for it was in that instant that the call reached them. A ship had been spotted and they would need to make ready to meet her. Jack looked at William and the older man knew what his younger friend and Captain was thinking. "I'm well enough for it, Jack. Let's get to work!"
The battle was bloodier than most the Pearl had managed since first sailing under Captain Jack Sparrow. Jack thought that Nick was taking more liberties with the way he did things. He seemed intent on killing everyone aboard ship regardless of whether they surrendered or not. The bloodshed on his part inspired some of the others of the crew to be a bit more frenzied than they'd been before now, and before Jack knew it, the entire crew of the other ship was dead or dying.
Anger flooded through him. Finding Nick holding his bloody sword up in a gesture of victory and laughing with some of the others who'd followed his example, Jack took the man's arm and spun him around to face him. "What is it you're doin', Nick?" Jack demanded, not taking any notice of the others and how they were reacting to this confrontation.
"I'm takin' what I can!" Nick declared, bringing his sword arm down from its upraised position. Jack watched a stream of blood pooling on the deck where it had dripped from the now down turned sword point. Jack's eyes took in the picture of his friend, bloodied sword, bloodied clothes, bloodied hands, and bloodlust in his eyes. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, but before any thought could fully form in his mind, Nick's smiled slipped.
Horror filled his now-wide eyes as the pirate took in what the growing pools of red meant, and what it was that he had done. The sword, raised in victory moments earlier, fell from nerveless fingers and clattered to the red-stained wooden deck. "J-Jack?"
Nick's voice was small and full of emotion, and Jack stepped forward taking the man by the hand as he slipped his other arm around his friend's shoulders. Jack moved, taking Nick with him towards the Pearl and shouted over his shoulders. "Take what valuables you find, leave the bodies and sink the boat." He paused. He had no desire to be here longer than necessary. "Do it within the next 15 minutes. The Pearl moves on by thenand we're keepin' to the code."
That, he knew, would keep them from lingering too long.
Stepping back onto the cleaner deck of The Black Pearl revived Jack chasing the stench of blood and gun powder from his nostrils and the sting of smoke from the back of his throat. He led Nick to his quarters and shut the door further dimming the stench, the sound, and the sight of the now listing ship they'd attacked.
Concern for his friend spoke before anger at his actions. "Nick, are you well?"
Nick blinked once, twice, three times, before focusing on Jack. "Jack" he looked around as though seeing the Pearl for the first time. "What are we doin' 'ere? Did we take 'er? Is she ours?"
Jack nodded. "She's ours. Nick, are you well?"Again Nick blinked, and just as suddenly as it had appeared, the vulnerable, shaky lad disappeared. "O'course I'm well! We've done it!"
"What is it you think we've done?"
Nick held out a piece of gold, a bit of jewelry it was, dulled by drying blood. Jewelry of some sort, but Jack barely glanced at it.
Anger surged through him at the memories. He should have realized that Nick was in trouble. What exactly the trouble was, he still didn't quite understand. Had too many years at sea been too much for him? Had Nick succumbed to some sort of madness because of whatever demons he carried within himself? Had he always been mad and Jack had only later realized it?
Whatever the truth was, Jack knew only that he'd long thought was dead. He had lived with that for a long time, and had even gotten past blaming himself for it. Nick's demise and their failure to go after what the three friends had left behind on that little island where Nick had apparently met his fate had haunted his dreams for years. Of course, that had been before Barbossa and the Curse. He was embarrassed to admit it, but he hadn't given Nick a thought in years. It wasn't until he'd decided to look up Ol' Joe and find what he, Nick, and William had left behind all those years ago that he'd once again begun to recall how close they all were.
His decision to go right where Nick was now insisting they go had come about because he knew there were things left there that Will would want. Maybe not immediately, but one day, he would want to have them. They were all William had at the time, and he had told Jack once that he looked on the island as a safe place to store things from his past that he could pass on to his sonto his future.
Will's futureJack could only hope at this point that the lad would have one.
Most of the crew of the Queen of Diamonds had miraculously survived, and of those who hadn't, many on the small island took to insinuating that their deaths had been their captain's fault.
"'E shoulda dropped anchor! Tryin' to outrun a storm like that is a fool's journey!"
Other's defended the man's actions. "'Ow was 'e to know 'ow fast it would come up? 'E mighta lost the entire ship an' 'er crew if 'e'd a tried that!"
The debate raged on over the next few days, but none of the crew of the ship in question bothered to weigh in. None defended their captain and none defamed him, either.
Will Turner found that curious behavior indeed, since most pirates that he had met weren't shy about voicing their opinions. Still, Will knew enough to leave it alone. He counted himself lucky to have survived that night, and was excited out of all proportion to have found that Trilby was the one he'd pulled from the water. He hadn't known the man well, but a familiar face seemed so far out of the realm of possibility that Will found himself pleased beyond measure to see him.
One night, just a few days after the storm, Trilby came by the blacksmith's shop to see Will. "I be 'eadin to the Painted Parrot, lad. I wondered if ye might want to get a drop or two with me."
Will smiled at the invitation. "I'd be happy to." He finished the last bit of work, tidying up the shop, and putting each tool away before closing up the shop. The two walked in companionable silence as they made their way to the pub.
Will breathed in the scent of the sea mingling with night blooming flowers he'd never learned to name. It would almost be calming except that it brought to mind Elizabeth. It was a scent she wore, or perhaps it was the flowers she wore. He couldn't say, but just smelling it brought her back to him. He closed his eyes as he walked, and could almost believe she was here walking with him, her arm genteely linked through his as though he were a proper gentleman. He had never been so long away from the sight of her since the day he'd come awake in the belly of the Naval ship that had plucked him from the burning sea. That was how he remembered it in his nightmares. The sea aflame and dark, torn sails coming closer in the fog.
He blinked his eyes open forcing the memorieseven those of his Elizabethaway once more. He realized he'd drifted to far from the present once more, and Trilby was chattering away unaware of his lapse.
When the other man paused for a breath, Will chose that moment, perhaps spurred on by memories of home, of Elizabeth and of Jack, to ask a question that he'd put off asking. "Trilby, the last I saw of you, you were on the Pearl. I know I wasn't in the best of health, but how did you turn up on the Queen of Diamonds?"
Trilby laughed. "I'd 'ave stayed with the Pearl just for the honor of sailin' with Captain Jack Sparrow if the thought of that undead monster 'adn't a scared me past reason. I asked the Cap'n to put me ashore, and he did. I signed aboard the Queen, 'opin' to make a bit of money and to find meself a way back 'ome."
"Where's home?"
"I'd give anythin' to see England again, but I doubt as I ever will." He sighed. "O'course, the Queen of Diamonds is likely to make me a rich enough man, that the loss'll be easier to bear!" He laughed a rough cackling sort of a laugh, but the joy in it brought a smile to Will's face.
"What's so special about her? Is it some cargo?"
"Oh, no, it's empty, except for supplies. The Queen's value ain't in what she be carryin'! It's much more than that!" He laughed as though sharing a private joke with himself.
Will looked at the man quizzically, but he didn't offer any further explanation.
Trilby laughed to himself at whatever he'd believed about the Queen that would make him rich, but after a few moments of silence, he turned Will's question to Will himself. "If ye don't mind me askin' 'ow is it yer 'ere and not out on the Black Pearl yerself?"
Will stiffened slightly. He wasn't sure how to answer the question though he'd asked it of himself almost from the moment he'd seen the Pearl sailing away. They reached the Painted Parrot and Will opened the door for his friend as he answered. "I wish I knew."
Trilby didn't leave it at that. "Ye don't know why yer 'ere and not with Sparrow? That can't be. Did ye 'ave a fallin' out? Did ye choose to leave the piratin' life be'ind ye?"
Will shook his head. "Nothing like that. Jackleft."
"'E left? 'Ow d'ya mean that?"
Will shook his head. He was uncomfortable with the questions and he would not risk saying something out of turn about Jack. Some small part of him believed Jack hadn't chosen to leave him behind. Certainly, Elizabeth wouldn't have made such a choice. He tormented himself with thoughts of one or both of them being seriously injured or terribly ill and unable either to find him or wait for him in the desperate need to reach a doctor of some kind. He spent just as much time tormenting himself with thoughts of Jack leaving him behind because it was too much bother to waste time with a man who seemed to spurn the pirate's way of life.
Then there was the chance that they'd found William Turner. Perhaps, Will thought, his father had caused this somehow. He wanted desperately to believe his father was a good man, but what if that simply were not the case? What if William Turner, Senior had somehow commandeered the ship. Such thoughts never got him far, because, logically, there'd be little reason not to wait for Will.
Trilby must have sensed Will's reluctance to speak of it, for soon the man was chattering away about other things. Will learned a lot about the man, but in the end, would not allow himself to feel any friendship with Trilby. He didn't see much point. He knew the Queen of Diamonds wasn't going to be in port for very long, and, once they'd taken on supplies or met whoever they might need to meet, or taken care of whatever business brought them here, Will knew Trilby and the Queen would be leaving.
Will enjoyed the man's company, though he knew there was only the slightest of links between the man and Will's own past, he couldn't help but cling to it.It was on a similar night a week or more later that Will first began to become aware that, for the first time in his life, his fate was truly in his own hands.
He and Trilby sat at their usual table in the Painted Parrot when several of the crew from the Queen entered the pub already drunk and already boisterous. It didn't take long before words were said, and one of the locals decided to take offense.
Will had no intention of getting involved, but one of the men recognized Trilby as being a crewmate of the other men, and before he could stop it, Will was embroiled in the growing battle. Will drew his sword to intercept a blow meant to take Trilby's head from his shoulders after the man had dropped his own weapon. The man who'd intended to claim the head as a prize in the scuffle, glared at Will, but the young Blacksmith did not back down. Instead, narrowing his eyes, and quite tired of being intimidated, Will swung his sword in a wide arc, dislodging the other man's blade from his own, and placing it menacingly at the larger man's throat.
"Leave my friend alone."
The larger man laughed. "If I don't?"
Will's eyes narrowed further, and he allowed his disinterest in his own well being to show.
Angered by the challenge he saw there, the man got his sword under Will's and began the fight in earnest. Will channeled his natural desire to protect his friend, who was, actually, too drunk to properly defend himself. He also couldn't keep his frustration over his situation from putting a bit of extra force behind each blow, and from making him just daring enough to consider moves he might have restrained himself from attempting had this happened before he'd been left behind.
He knew the art of swordplay like he knew the art of sword making. He could have fought this man had he been half drunk at the time. He wasn't half drunk, however.
He moved with an instinctual ease as though he knew where each limb should be a moment before it needed to be there, but the grace of his movements belied their ferocity, and it was a brief duel as the man he attacked recognized his inability to win.
Almost desperate, the other man took a half-step back, but stopped himself from going any further. "I ain't afraid a ye, whelp!" The man's insistence seemed to amuse Will, but his word choice did not.
The blacksmith drew back his sword and swung it again knocking the man's weapon from his hand and reaching out a hand to take the man's throat in his left hand even as his right held his sword just behind the man's left ear. Will drew up closer, stopping only when he was eye to eye and nose to nose with the man. His eyed widened in a look he might have recognized if he'd seen it on Jack Sparrow's face. He spoke in a soft voice, in a tone that brooked no argument. "Don't. Call. Me. Whelp."
Trilby's friends from the Queen drew their own weapons then and stood at Will's back daring any other to challenge the lad. When no one did, Trilby stepped forward and took the sword from Will's hand. "Alright then, lad, come along with ol' Trilby, then."
Outside, Trilby watched Will concern plain on his face as the others from the Queen made loud, boisterous remarks about how the boy had bested the townie. "Aye, lad, that was all right, that was!"
"Good job 'e was on our side, ay?"
"Trilby, ye got any more friends like 'im?"
Trilby ignored the words as his eyes stayed riveted to Will's face. Will finally caught his eye and smiled. "I'm all right, Trilby."
"Ye sure about that, mate? Ye didn't seem yerself."
Will nodded. "I'm fine."
Trilby laughed allowing himself to be reassured. "Good, then, but remember if ye decide to turn pirate, ye come down to the Queen! We could use a lad as good in a fight as ye be!"
Will nodded, and, for the first time since he'd met Jack Sparrow, he found himself considering the merits of doing just as Trilby suggested.
He had nothing here, and, lucky as he was to have found work at the smithy, it wasn't as though he could count on making anything of himself here. He had no money, and the cost of food and other necessities made it unlikely he'd be able to put by enough to purchase passage off the island. If he did manage to make that much, the chances of being able to trust a ship full of pirates not to take his money and leave him somewhere or kill him outright were very slim.
If he signed on with the Queen, perhaps he could put aside enough money to get himself to Port Royalor perhaps to England. He knew it was a trap. He knew most pirates lived in debt and servitude unable to save enough money to leave the trade, but he also knew there were worse things he could be, and worse ways to spend a day than sailing on the Caribbean. It was a lot to consider, but the only thing he knew for certain was that he didn't have a lot to lose. It was a dawning realization that hit him hard.
His father had likely been faced with the same difficulties. Some similar circumstances had likely led to the creation of Bootstrap Bill the Pirate from the man who had been William Turner, Senior. It was getting to be easier to understand his father's choices, though it was also getting to be less likely that he'd ever meet the man.
He looked at Trilby, whose smile had slipped somewhat as if he'd read the thoughts tumbling around inside Will's head. "Tell me about the Queen of Diamonds, Trilby, and tell me about your captain."
Trilby shook his head, but did as he was asked.
Bootstrap Bill had never been more reluctant to approach Jack. He watched from a distance as his friend steered the Pearl, and he wondered how mad Jack would be when he explained. Whatever happened, he only hoped Jack would let him stay aboard long enough to rescue his son.
Realizing he'd put it off for as long as he could, he approached Jack.
"Thought you'd just stand there all day, William. What's on your mind?" Jack kept his eyes on the horizon, never once turning back to look at his friend.
"I"
"Out with it, William."
"I was talkin' to Lizbeth. She's a right sweet girl" He let the thought trail.
Jack smiled. "Sweet, ay? Well, she's obviously tryin' to make up for yellin' at ye earlier. She's got a sweet side, I dare say, but she's usually savin' that for your Will. With the rest of us sorry souls, she's usually"
"What?"
Jack shrugged. "Can't say. Promised Will I'd be nice to 'er."
Bootstrap laughed. "Aye, ye like 'er, don't ya, Jack?"
"Like 'er?" He seemed about to protest, but then just smiled again. "She and Willthat's a good match. Maybe not as smart' as the match she turned down to be 'is, but it's a good match."
"Turned down?" Bootstrap shook his head. "There's more 'ere I ain't 'eard yet, ain't there?"
"That there is, mate. That there is."
"Jack. I wanted to tell yeI told 'er." He waited for a reaction, but the one he got wasn't the one he'd expected.
"I thought ye might." Jack sighed and kept his eyes on the horizon.
"Ye did?"
"What exactly did you tell her?"
"All of it that I knew, Jack."
"That much" Jack considered his friend's words. He didn't know what Elizabeth would make of the tale she'd been told, but that one had a good head on her shoulders. She didn't scare easy, and she seemed more than able to take what life threw at her.
Exasperating was one word he'd use to describe her. Now that she knew about Nickhe shook his head knowing he should be talking to William, but his thoughts followed their own path. William had told Elizabeth what this was all about.
That Nick wanted to go to the island didn't surprise Jack, but that he would take this seriously enough to threaten Will's life over it astonished him. He'd have taken some persuading, but in the end, Jack would have taken Nick wherever he wanted to go. Of course, Nick was as patient under normal circumstances as Will had been when Elizabeth was in harm's way.
Nick, William, and Jack had made a pact many years earlier, before Barbossa and before the curse. They'd left a bit of treasure behind on a small island careful to make note of its location and trusting the map to Ol' Joe. The map was in the slim logbook and was drawn in Jack's own hand. The treasure they'd left behind was no ordinary treasure, however. The threesome was just paranoid enough and just impressed enough with their own cleverness that they had taken some unusual precautions.
When Jack and William had believed Nick dead, they'd made another pact. Neither of them would not return for the treasure until there was only one of them left. Then, in memory of the other two, the survivor would find any family the others had left and make sure that a third was left to any who stood to inherit it. Nick had a sister somewhere, William had his son, and Jack, well, Jack had an old reprobate of a father likely lying drunk somewhere and wondering what had happened to the son he hadn't seen in more years than he could count.
Why William and Jack decided on this was both easy and hard to explain. Jack wished it had never happened, but it had. Now Elizabeth knew about it, and somehow, that made it less a memory and more a fact. It had started several months after the raid on the ship where Nick had left no survivors.
They'd gone to an island alone, just the three of them taking a little slip of a boat probably farther than a little slip of a boat should have been trusted to go. The Pearl was in dry dock being repaired by her crew, and Jack hadn't yet learned not to trust Barbossa, whom he left in charge.
The trio had arrived at the island they'd chosen, hidden their secrets, and prepared to sail back, when Nick had grown agitated. He'd seen a boat off in the distance and become convinced that it was going to come to the island and take what they'd left the minute they'd gone. William and Jack couldn't convince him otherwise.
Jack had noticed Nick's erratic behavior, but thought Nick was simply overworked. That he could be mad never entered his thoughts. Nick's penchant for bloodshed was quickly making its mark. The Black Pearl was gaining just the reputation that Nick had coveted. Whenever he could, Nick took the lives of those they robbed in as bloody and horrifying ways he could devise.
On the island, when Nick became convinced that the ship was going to rob him, he also managed to convince himself that Jack and William had planned it that way. They would sail off with the ship, depriving Nick of his treasure.
It was when Nick pulled his sword that Jack realized there would be no easy way out.
To Be Continued