Once again, I have to ask forgiveness for the delay and with sincerest apologies, I offer this chapter as a peace offering. I really have not abandoned this story. I have just been busy with Real Life, illness, and other problems. Now, back on track, I do intend to finish this very soon. I do hope some of you might still be willing to review. Thanks for your understanding and for the many emails you have sent asking me to continue. I promise this story will be finished soon!
A Pirate's Life and Death part 18
See part one for disclaimer.
By Ecri
Jack Sparrow sighed and breathed deeply of the salt sea air. It usually calmed him, but his thoughts and emotions roiled like a bubbling stew–a stew full of memories, regrets, and shattered dreams.
"Just 'ow did Dear Elizabeth take the tale, William?" He thought he could guess, but Will's girl had managed to surprise him on more than one occasion.
William shrugged. "Well enough, I expect. She seemed shocked. I left out some detail, but I'd say she 'as an 'ealthy imagination."
Jack nodded. He hadn't allowed himself to think of any of this in a long time, but now it was hard not to. Nick had drawn his sword against his two best friends on that bit of rock they'd graciously called an island, convinced by whatever madness that possessed him that his two best friends had always planned to take all he had and leave him for dead.
"It was yer plot all along, weren't it, Jack? That's why you stepped in to be named Captain o' the Pearl so quickly!" Nick had insisted as he waved the sword in a haphazard arc that suggested he'd forgotten about it as his mind reordered the past painting innocent moments with suspicion and paranoia.
"Nick, be reasonable" was as far as Jack got before Nick lunged at him. Jack drew his sword in his own defense, but only reluctantly did he deflect Nick's blows, and he couldn't bring himself to attack.
William stared at them, and Jack saw shock on his face as William realized what was going on. "Nick, Jack! Stop it, now! We've made plans and we best stick to 'em!" William's words fell on deaf ears, however, as Nick's fury grew."
Jack fought as well as he could, but could not bring himself to strike a serious blow. Nick drew blood twice before Jack began to take the duel seriously. "Nick! Stop it, mate! Put it down!" Jack gestured towards the sword, but Nick's grip only tightened and his grin was tinged with mania.
"I ain't listenin' to the likes o' you, Jack Sparrow!" He lunged and succeeded in slicing through Sparrow's left arm–not deeply, but the pain and surprise of it caused Jack to stumble as Nick crowed in triumph.
They fought for some time, and Jack felt the sting of sweat trickling into his eyes as he backed away wishing for a way to surrender without forfeiting his life, for he was convinced that the three of them could not leave this island alive. After he stumbled for a third time, Nick began an incessant chatter that Jack recognized was meant to infuriate him beyond reason so he would make some rash move and give Nick the upper hand.
Ignore it, he told himself, as Nick spoke ill of a mother Jack had never known. Don't give 'im the satisfaction, he counseled himself as Nick spoke of him as though he were a lass willing to give away whatever any pirate might be willing to take from him.
"Ahh, but Jack," Nick whispered, "I'm forgettin' ain't I? I'm forgettin' the key to knowin' 'ow to beat a man like you! Yer as dishonest as the day is long
True, Sparrow thought.
"Yer as trusting as a maid in love," Nick added.
True, Jack admitted to himself rather grudgingly. He did have a tendency to trust people. The wrong people, he amended as he and Nick fought.
"Ye'd rather give quarter than kill those what might identify ye and make a name for yerself spelled out in bloody letters!" Nick spoke more loudly, his sword punctuating his points.
All true, Jack agreed.
Nick swept his sword in a feint and then brought it in to catch Jack's in a strong blow. The two struggled for dominance as Nick, his voice dropping to a whisper, added his greatest insult. "Yer not worthy of bearin' the title of captain, and ye never will be! Yer too honest to be a proper pirate, and yer too stupid to know that! The Black Pearl deserves a better man at the wheel than Jack Sparrow!" Nick said Jack's name with as much contempt as he could muster, his eyes wide and full of fury.
He lunged at Jack then, and all Jack could think was how he would make his one time friend eat his words.
Jack parried everything Nick threw at him, and finally going on the offensive, he managed to toss Nick's sword away. He held his own sword at his surprised friend's throat and leaned closer, so Nick would hear his words. "That's Captain Jack Sparrow." He drew his sword back, but in that instant, his blade was struck from his own hand.
Bewildered, Jack looked up into the desperate face of his only friend. William held his eyes and helped Nick to his feet.
Jack drew himself from the memory of that fight with great effort. He didn't look at his friend but rather stared at the sea as he spoke. "I never 'eld ye to blame for it, William. Ye weren't quite yerself"
"Pull the other one, Jack. It's got bells on."
"What d'ye mean?"
"I mean, yer either kiddin' yerself, or yer tryin' to pull one over on me. I was near enough myself. I was as well as I was goin' ta be fer a long time, and ye know it." He sighed. "Even if ye didn't 'old me to blame, Jack, I did. I told Elizabeth about it, and I said I'd allowed 'im to do it."
Now Jack did turn and face his friend. "Ye didn't, William. Ye weren't ta blame. Ye were as surprised as I was by Nick's behavior. It was next to impossible for me to do what I was doin'. It couldn't 'ave been easy to stand there and watch me and Nick tryin' to kill each other."
"Would ye 'ave?"
"Killed 'im?"
William nodded.
Jack thought about it long and hard. After several minutes he shook his head. "I don't know. I meant to at the time. I did. I don't know if I'd 'ave 'esitated at the last moment, but I intended to. Not for what he said, but for what he meant to do. 'E would 'ave killed us both and takin' what we'd left, and I don't think 'e'd 'ave sought yer son and me old dad to give 'em our share."
William nodded. "Nick lost his mind somewhere out there on the ocean."
"If 'e ever 'ad it to begin with."
Nick stared at the man he held hostage. "Will Turner." He whispered, and indeed, in his mind the man was the son of Bootstrap Bill. "Ye would 'ave been better off never lookin' fer yer father."
The man trembled under his gaze, and Nick enjoyed the power that gave him. He knelt next to his prisoner. "Ye might 'ave 'ad a pleasanter life if ye'd stayed in England, lad." When he got no response, he leaned menacingly closer. "Don't ye think?"
The man nodded vigorously and Nick stood, satisfied. He strolled across the deck and looked at the food Elizabeth had left at the door. He'd eaten his share, and was wondering if, today, he'd give his prisoner his half, or just eat it himself. Rations were small aboard ship, and it had been weeks since the Black Pearl had put in for supplies. His portion had been small, unsatisfying, but he knew he didn't really want more.
He placed the second portion on the floor by the bound man and stepped back watching as his prisoner, forced by hunger and circumstance, had to get down on his belly and lap up the small meal like a dog. He ate it fast, and was all too soon sitting up again, no doubt wishing he'd taken some time.
Nick laughed. "I see ye weren't taken chances like last time, ay?"
The last time he'd decided to allow the man to eat, the prisoner had taken longer about it. Irritated by the sounds of the wolfish feeding frenzy, Nick had suddenly, violently, taken the food away, tossing it against the door. The sound of the tray striking the think wooden door had brought the sound of feet running about outside. Though Nick heard much discussion, and a loud, feminine voice making demands of those around her, it was Jack who'd come to the door, cleared his throat, and asked if everything were all right.
Nick had laughed then even as he laughed now to remember it.
"'Ave we reached our destination? No? Then go! Leave me be!"
"Nick, let me get the lad some medical attention. Be reasonable! Ye 'ave what ye want"
"Ye 'ave no idea at all what I want, Jack Sparrow!"
There'd been silence then, and he'd heard Jack's familiar low-pitched rumbling speech. He knew they'd placed a guard at his door with orders to burst in and rescue the lad if things sounded too rough. No matter. He could restrain himself.
"Ye'll die with yer father, Will Turner."
The prisoner trembled visibly, eyes wide in fear.
Will Turner sat up, his heart pounding, and his eyes wide, though it was dream images and not the smithy he saw. It took several moments to clear his head of the last vestiges of that horrifying vision. He'd seen it again. His father dying at the bottom of the ocean because he'd broken the curse.
He cursed himself now for a fool. His life had been spent searching for his father, then for a niche, a way of life he could call his own, and then, finally, for a woman he'd loved from afar and had been unable to woo. He stared across the darkened smithy toward the low embers of yesterday's fire. His dream induced fear was subsiding to be replaced by a reality induced one. He would die alone having never found what he sought.
What did he seek? Images flashed through his mind, but he realized they were dreams of a different sort. He saw himself with Elizabeth on his arm. He was a well-respected man in their little hamlet, and he was not less than anyone else merely because he was a blacksmith born to a pirate. He saw a home, a familya future that might never be his unless he learned the one lessen he had resisted for so long.
Men were not doomed to be just what they'd been. He could become just as wealthy as a well-respected smith as he could doing almost any other trade. If he worked, and worked hard
He was kidding himself again, and well he knew it. He worked as hard as a man may, and as many hours as the Lord put in a day, yet his work was assumed to be Mr. Brown's. He had to set himself up in his own shop. He had to make enough money as a smith to make a life for Elizabeth
Of course, where Elizabeth was right now was anyone's guess. Why she and Jack had left him, he still could not quite work out. He did not believe they would voluntarily abandon him, yet they had. What had caused it? What had happened?
He tossed his small, thin blanket aside, and crept to the window, peering out at the full moon. Elizabeth was out there, on that ocean somewhere. So was Jack. The chances of them returning for him were almost nonexistent, so his only course of action was to find them. The only way to do that was to find passage on some other vessel and search for them. This had occurred to him often since the night of the storm. Trilby was persuasive and the older man wanted him along. Will supposed it was because they shared some sort of history no matter how minor or how little he remembered of the time they'd sailed together on the Pearl.
Knowing that there was even one man that you could trust was a blessing aboard a pirate ship.
Pirate ship. That was the rub. He had rejected the notion of becoming a pirate too vehemently in his past to push aside his objections and sign up now. He remembered Jack's insistence that he had the blood of a pirate. He remembered the realization of how right that had been when he'd learned that Barbossa needed his blood, his father's blood, to end the curse.
Could he do it? Could he pillage and plunder and all those other things in that absurd little song Elizabeth had taught him when they were children?
He wanted to say no. He wanted to cling to his morals, but an apprentice smith made very little working, as Will now did, for a man who would have been a pirate had he made different choices in his life. Even if he somehow raised enough money to buy passage off the island, could he trust the pirates who made berth here to honor their pact and take him safely toto wherever he asked them to take him?
He couldn't.
A pirate. He hated the idea, but at least he'd be off this rock and out in the world looking for Elizabeth. It would, of course, be difficult to leave the ship once he'd joined its crew. He'd heard enough tales in his time here to know that much. You sign on, and basically sign your life away. Slavery, piracy, it was all the same really.
One difficult decision at a time, he counseled himself.
He would talk to Trilby. He needed to know more about the ship, her captain, and her crew. No more would he leap without looking. Now, he would have to devise a plan.
Trilby whistled a jaunty tune as he walked back to The Queen to see the captain. He'd had a long talk with Will Turner, and the lad was willing to join them. The Captain, of course, had to make the final decision. He wasn't sure he'd be too keen on the idea, but with most of the rest of the crew having taken a shine to the lad, he figured the captain could be persuaded.
The captain was an easy-going sort. Not too demanding and not big on formality, but he did like to run a tight ship. That, and the ship itself was special. It had taken months for the captain to trust him with just how special. Now, he knew he'd not sail voluntarily on any other. The Queen was more ship than he'd ever crewed before, and he wanted to share his good fortune with the only other man he'd ever met who seemed to have worse luck than he himself.
Will Turner's life story seemed an improbable tale, and Trilby had only learned bits and pieces of it. The lad deserved a bit of good luck. Trilby had been astonished to find the young blacksmith had been the one to save him from the depths during the storm. When he'd slipped beneath the waves, he'd been sure that was the end. He'd never hoped that anyone would leap in to save him, nor would he have guessed it could possibly be someone he knew.
He shook his head in disbelief. The Captain had met the lad. Surely he'd want to have him aboard. Surely the Queen had enough magicenough fortune to go around.
He knocked on the door to the Captain's cabin, and, given permission to enter, begged the man's pardon. "I meant not to disturb ye, but I be wonderin' if ye'd given thought to replacin' the men we lost in the storm."
The captain looked him over and Trilby waited.
"Who did you have in mind, Mr. Trilby?"
"Will Turner. 'E's a good lad lookin' ta break a streak of bad luck. Sure an' ye could use a man like 'im, couldn't ye?"
The captain considered the words. "Have you told him anything about the Queen?"
"It weren't me place. He's a good lad, 'e is." Trilby shifted a but from foot to foot. "I've sailed wi'im before. I assumed he was the one" he cleared his throat realizing he might be pushing the Captain to far. If Will were the one the Queen needed, the Captain would know it before Trilby did.
The captain smiled. "I'll meet the lad, and led you know, Trilby. Have him aboard by end of day. We sail first thing tomorrow."
Trilby nodded, much relieved, and left to find Turner.
Will felt no remorse at leaving this place behind. Trilby's news that the Captain has accepted him had surprised him, but he had wasted no time. He had precious few belongings to take with him, and no obligation to anyone but himself. He'd informed his employer of his departure, and the man shrugged as though he'd known all along that Will would not be staying.
Now, aboard the Queen, Will tried not to think to much about how life at sea seemed to suit him. He told himself it was only natural that he'd felt a surge of optimism when the Queen had pulled free of the dock and sailed off toward the horizon. He was finally doing something positive. He was once more going in search of Elizabeth.
Though he still could not fathom why she and Jack had left him behind, he did know that Elizabeth loved him. Not because he was, as she said, a pirate, and not because he had saved her life. She loved him. She had told him as much soon after Jack's initial departure.
They had kissed. Will had lost himself in that kiss. His love for Elizabeth had been something he'd kept hidden for so long, that it startled him to be able to express it in such a way, but once his lips had touched hers, Will found a joy he had never known in expressing himself.
When they had parted, Elizabeth looked up into his eyes. "I love you, Will Turner."
He smiled at her and took her hand in his holding it gently. "I love you, Elizabeth Swann."
Hearing his own voice speak aloud the words he had hardly dared to whisper for so long had been a release of sorts and he almost laughed. To his surprise, Elizabeth did laugh.
"I'm sorry" she gasped. "I've just wanted to say that for so long"
They'd talked on the long walk back to her house. He'd insisted on seeing her to her door, though she'd insisted that she would allow it only if they walked. He readily agreed since it would take much longer to walk to the Governor's Mansion, thereby extending their time together. There was another reason, however. Hiring a carriage for her would have cost him a great deal.
The walk had been surprisingly short to him, though he knew it was because he was enjoying Elizabeth's company. This had been their first chance to spend so much time together. The long voyage back to Port Royal from Isle de Muerta had not been a social one. Governor Swann had refused to allow Will to spend time with Elizabeth, and, under the glaring eye of Commodore Norrington, Will had found it easier to spend his days deep in conversation with Jack Sparrow.
As they walked, Elizabeth had explained to him how she had loved him since their childhood. Will had been astonished. He had always loved her, it was true, but he had not dared to hope that she could feel the same way.
Jack had laughed at him from his place behind bars aboard the Dauntless. "She loves you, you bloody fool. She risked herself to save you."
"She's betrothed to another man."
Jack had sighed. "One day, Will, you are going to learn what sacrifice looks like, and I think you'll be amazed to discover it looks a lot like a woman marrying the wrong man."
Will had pondered his friends words all the way back to Port Royal, and he'd been surprised when, upon reaching the place he'd called home for nearly half his life, he found that it did not fit as it had before. It seemed smaller than he remembered. It seemed less daunting to face returning to Mr. Brown to see if he still had a position with the drunkard, or, if worse came to worse, to find a way to support himself on his own. It seemed as though the town had shrunkor, perhaps, that he had grown.
He'd pondered nothing else but Jack and Elizabeth during Jack's sham of a trial, and it was upon the morning of Jack's would-be execution that he had realized that he could not stand by any longer. Not another day would pass without him telling Elizabeth how he felt. He could allow another day to pass if he did not tell her. If he did, he would not be able to face himself in the mirror each morning. This revelation led him to realize that there were other things he could not allow to happen if he wished to look himself in the mirror each morning.
His plan had started out as simply the idea that Jack could not die at the end of a Hangman's noose while he, Will Turner, son of Bootstrap Bill Turner, drew breath. He knew the force and distance he would need to throw his sword in order to give Jack a place to perch. It need only be for a short time. Death did not come swiftly for those hanged. Will needed only to buy enough time to enable him to cut the rope and free Jack.
It had surprised him how easy it had been to tell Elizabeth that he loved her. It had been just as easy to tell Norrington and Elizabeth's father that Jack did not deserve death.
Permission to woo Elizabeth was not something he had ever dreamed Governor Swann would grant, but he had learned how difficult it was to deny Elizabeth what she wanted. That she wanted him only made him more determined now to find her.
Where might the Black Pearl have gone? Why leave so suddenly?
As he threw himself into his chores aboard the Queen pondering such questions, he realized that this life, a life aboard a pirate ship, fit him well–like something well worn and familiar. He did not contemplate it any further than that.
Captain Hamilton of the Queen of Diamonds watched his newest crew member as the young lad helped mend a sail. He took to the work easily, the Captain noted, and his diligence and easy-going attitude had made him popular among the crew.
Of course, the new ones were often popular. Everyone wanted a gander at the Ship's latest acquisition. It was the Ship that called to the men who served her after all. Hamilton had long believed that, but never as completely as he had since he had taken command of the Queen. He had served aboard her man and boy for more years than he'd have thought possible. He'd been right when he'd thought the sea would claim his life, for it had, but this had not been how he'd meant it.
The Queen of Diamonds had had a bad run of luck far longer than any ship not already cursed by some otherworldly power should have had to endure. Hamilton considered it to be a test of sorts, and, at times, he was still unsure if he and his crew had passed. Regardless of the judgement of Fate, The crew of the Queen had learned to accept the cards they had been dealt. Picking up strays had become part of the routine.
Hamilton had known Trilby would be the one on this trip to recommend a new crewmember. That it had turned out to be the lad who had saved him from the sea hadn't surprised him. The Ship had a hand in that, he was sure. The Queen was as demanding as any human woman he had ever met, and Hamilton would not have been surprised to learn it had lured the lad to the shore merely to entice him to her hold.
It wasn't an easy existence sailing endlessly across the seas, but Hamilton loved it nonetheless. He continued watching Will Turner, recognizing the contentment he saw in the younger man's face. Will was pleased to be aboard and had said as much when Trilby had introduced him to his new Captain.
Hamilton had insisted that Trilby leave them alone for a moment, and when the door had shut behind the pirate, Hamilton had turned to Will. "Our Mr. Trilby seems to have a high opinion of you, lad. Now, you tell me why I should take you on."
Will had looked Hamilton in the eye–something Hamilton had found that few potential crewmen took the liberty to do. "I have some experience sailing, and I will work hard."
"You don't intend to make piracy your life." It wasn't a question. Hamilton could see a love of the sea in the man, and he knew this was a crossroads for him. He'd seen enough men at a similar place in their lives to recognize the signs. Tired of what he had, longing for something betterbut there was something else, something Hamilton couldn't define. It must be that something that the Queen had called.
"I don't." Will was silent for a moment. "I won't lie to you, Captain. I'm searching for someone."
Hamilton smiled. "Searching? We're all searching for something, Turner." He considered the set to the other man's face. "When you find this person, what is it you plan to do?"
Hamilton saw calculation in the boy's eyes. "That's enough of an answer, lad. Justbefore you join yourremember to ask yourself something."
A flash of puzzlement appeared and disappeared almost at the same instant in Will Turner's eyes, and Hamilton took it as his cue to continue. "Ask yourself if you do what you do for them, for you, or for some other reason. Ask yourself if you wouldn't be better off sailing with me aboard The Queen than chasing after something you've lostthat is, if you ever actually had it to lose."
Hamilton saw that, though he wanted to disregard his new Captain's statement, Will Turner was asking himself those questions. With any luck, Hamilton thought, the boy was about to learn more about life than he'd ever dreamed.
Elizabeth stared unseeing at the watery horizon wishing only that there were some feasible plan she could devise that would see her at Will's side. Her anxieties gnawed at her until she felt like a bundle of raw nerves. She could barely speak to anyone past the lump in her throat. She could hardly look at Jack or Bootstrap Bill without feeling an intense though irrational anger at each of them for allowing this to happen. She could hardly walk past Jack's quarter's without needing to fight the urge to throw herself at the door and beat it down with her bare hands.
She saw Jack sitting on a length of coiled rope and marched towards him glaring at the back of his head until he recognized her presence.
"What can I do for you Elizabeth," he asked without turning to face her.
Elizabeth continued to glare.
"Come, now, love. I'm no mind reader."
"You know what's on my mind." Her voice was soft, but threatening and insistent.
Jack sighed heavily before getting to his feet, and, slipping a knife she hadn't seen him holding into some secret place within the folds of his clothing. "Same thing that's on my mind." He shrugged. "Same thing that's on William's mind, I expect. No one wants Will hurt. We'll get him away from Nick. I promise you that."
"We don't know how badly he might be injured, Jack."
"No, but we do know that Nick has no use for a dead hostage."
Elizabeth could not hide her exasperation. "Well, if we can't get a look at him, how are we going to know if the hostage is" She swallowed hard unwilling to say the word in reference to Will.
Jack took a step forward invading Elizabeth's space and kept moving forcing Elizabeth to take a step back. "Don't make the mistake of thinking you are the only one who cares for Will. Don't make the mistake of thinking you know precisely what is going on here. Onlt three people can know that. That'd be William"
He took another step closer to Elizabeth, and she stepped back once more.
"" Again, he moved closer, forcing Elizabeth backwards.
"and me." He took a last step forward and Elizabeth found herself bumping up against the mast.
"Now" He said, moving back. "Go below and stay there until I say otherwise."
Elizabeth stepped closer to him, refusing to show how intimidated she'd felt. "I will not hide"
To her surprise, Jack grinned. "You'll do as I say, lass, because I'll not be the one who has to tell Will that something horrid has happened his lady love once we do get him away from Nick." His voice and eyes softened slightly, though Elizabeth couldn't say why. "Do as I ask, Elizabeth. I don't need another worry."
Elizabeth nodded backing slowly away from him and retreating below decks. She did not like the idea of following orders, especially Jack Sparrow's orders, but she did recognize one thing. Demanding things from him now was pointless. It was obvious he either had no plan, or had not yet completely given himself to whatever course of action that had sprung to mind.
She wanted Will and she wanted to help free him. She'd never have dreamed that some madman across the water would take him from her again, but if she wanted to see him again, she would need a plan much more detailed than simply the vague desire that he be safe and well and by her side. She began to ponder her options.
Jack knew they were closing in on their destination. He had considered dawdling on the seas on the assumption that Nick was so far gone that he would not remember the proper way to get there. Reason had won out. Reason had had a helping hand when his mind had conjured images of whatever retaliation Nick would use upon Will if Jack didn't do precisely as he was told.
He realized that the closer they got to the treasure that Nick believed he was getting, the more precarious was their situation. Nick wanted revenge after all, and was likely considering ways to make both William and Jack suffer. What better way than to carry through with his threat to hurt Will?
Jack hated one thing above most others in this world and that one thing was feeling helpless. It was a condition he had abandoned long ago, but that kept trying to seize him by the throat. He'd thought he'd felt the last of it when he'd first watched Barbossa sail away from that slip of an island expecting him to take his own life. He'd felt it yet again when Will Turner had held a gun to his own head precipitating Jack's and Elizabeth's marooning on that same slip of beach, rock, and rum. Then, again, he'd felt it when he'd felt the hangman's noose slip over his head and caress his throat with its coarse fibers.
Standing here trying not to relive the past lest it interfere with both his present and his future–such as it was–Jack knew he could not afford to indulge the feeling again. He needed a plan.
Trouble was he was having a great deal of difficulty finding one.
He needed the upper hand. He needed to find either a way to convince Nick that no one meant him ill, or that there was no need to hurt Will.
Jack had tried for so many years to block out the memory of what had happened that looking back on it now was almost painful. He remembered the island. Smaller even than the one Barbossa had found later, he realized. Nick thought that he and William meant to rob him of his riches. He thought that they'd meant all along to cheat him and leave him to die. That such a thought had never crossed their minds didn't matter.
He and Nick had fought, and neither of them had exactly won. He could still remember the smell of blood, the staccato rhythm of the swords parrying, and the way the sand shifted beneath his feet as he and Nick tried to kill each other.
Jack had long wondered if he would have killed Nick, but he couldn't answer that question for himself any better than he had answered it for William. He'd intended to at the time, but survival–and William–had robbed him of that choice.
They were very nearly evenly matched, but Jack was distracted. He was terrified of killing his friend, and he was worried about William. He wasn't stupid enough to think that, if Nick won and killed Jack, that Nick would then allow William to live. William was in no condition to go head to head with Nick.
He tried to reason with Nick. He pleaded with the other man to see sense, but each plea he made was met with a renewed attack and more than a few direct hits. His limbs bled freely now from the several wounds he'd received, and he danced as well as a man could on sand.
It was only after William had knocked Jack's sword from his hand and helped Nick to his feet that things had gone irreparably bad.
Nick had stood slowly, calculatingly, making it seem he was more hurt than he was Jack had later realized. Then, with a speed impossible to behold, he had pulled William's own sword from its scabbard before shoving the still weak man with a viciousness he'd only hinted at while plundering other ships.
Jack fell into a crouch and rolled towards his own dropped weapon, coming up with it a bit short. He heard Nick's triumphant laughter as his cold steel sliced easily into Jack's abdomen. Jack's sword fell from his hand even as he looked into Nick's face.
"I'll be taking what's mineand what's yours, Jack Sparrow."
Jack had stared up at the man, fully expecting the next blow to end his life. Time, however, seemed slowed, and it took the wounded man several moments to realize that the tableau had been frozen for several moments too long.
He blinked as he saw the tip of a short blade protruding from the area around Nick's left shoulder.
"That's Captain Jack Sparrow." Nick's mouth had opened but it was William's steady, soft voice that had come forth. Bootstrap Bill lowered the injured man to the sand and looked Jack in the eye. "We best get ye back t'the Pearl."
Jack nodded and allowed his friend to help him up. "What about him?" He gestured toward Nick.
"Looks like 'e fell behind."
Jack and William had thought better of it once, and had returned to the island only to find bonesand a skull with a bullet through the head. They'd assumed it was Nick. Jack saw now that it must have been someone else. Someone who'd had the misfortune to choose Nick's little island for some purpose, and had instead been surprised–murdered or left behind–while Nick commandeered his boat or his place on some ship and begun a search for his two friends.
William had filled him in on Nick's taking of his name and on the long chase the two men had begun. First, Nick had chased after William seeking revenge, then, William had chased after Nick seeking to clear his own name. Jack saw now how like Nick this all seemed. He'd truly lost his sanity somewhere along the way, either from short rations, intense heat, too many days at sea, or some unfathomable reason having little to do with his chosen profession. It could have been any one of them, Jack knew. He'd sailed too long and in too many bizarre circumstances not to realize that he had come dangerously close to trading his sanity for a suntan on more than one occasion. He could only hope that it wasn't too late to set this to rights. If Nick held even a shred of his old self, surely he could be made to see reason. If not, well, Jack wouldn't allow the man to hurt Will. Now that the chance was staring him in the face, he was going to reunite Will with his father. William with his son.
Jack was beginning to find an idea among the meandering thoughts flooding his mind, and he felt the beginnings of a plan finally coming to him. He grinned as it began to take form. In a soft voice he whispered, "Drink up me hearties, yo ho."
Will inhaled deeply of the sharp tang of salt air as he expertly lowered himself down the rigging. He had come to love the rhythms of life aboard ship in a way he hadn't been able to before now. His last voyage aboard the Pearl he'd been too ill to be aware of anything except how ill he was. The time before that, when he'd first sailed with Jack Sparrow, he'd been too focused on finding Elizabeth. His every thought had been for her. He'd worried over her safety, over what the pirates were doing to her, and over whether or not he would be able to tell her of his love for her once he found her. He hadn't, of course, until much later.
He found it somewhat unsettling that life aboard ship agreed with him. After his initial voyage at the age of thirteen, he'd embraced life on land wholeheartedly. Nightmares of the pirate attack, of the sinking of the ship, and the black sails of the cursed Black Pearl had left him unable to sleep for weeks.
He'd assumed the trauma of it had left him unable to sail. That he now realized he'd merely been unwillingstartled him. Unwilling. Before he'd sailed with Jack he'd been unwilling to speak of his love for Elizabeth to the one person he should have spoken toElizabeth. He'd also been unwilling to do anything positive to make a case to woo Elizabeth because he assumed he'd be deemed unsuitable by her father and feared he'd be deemed unsuitable by Elizabeth herself. He'd also been unwilling to accept the idea that his father was lost to him, and later, he'd been unwilling to even entertain the notion that his father–whom he'd believed to be a respectable sailor–was actually Bootstrap Bill Turner, a pirate.
He'd spent his life being unwilling to do anything. To strive for anything. He'd become adept at smithing and at swordplay, but aside from that, had achieved little.
Now, here aboard the Queen, he realized he wanted to do moreto be more. He was now unwilling to allow his life to be a list of what he could notwould notdo. He had defined himself too long by what he was to other people. William Turner's son, a blacksmith's apprentice, Elizabeth'she smiled at himself now realizing that before he had dared break a pirate out of prison and search the seas for Elizabeth, he had never quite done more than dream of the possibility of being Elizabeth's suitor. It was unattainable. It had taken the long, unlikely adventure courtesy of Barabossa and his cursed crew to make him able to tell Elizabeth what had burned in his heart since the moment he'd seen her.
He would no longer play that fool. There was no reason that he could not be what he chose, and if, he smiled again, he now chose to be a pirate for some short period of time, then so be it. There was no shame in it. He had a great deal of respect for Jack Sparrow, and Jack had said that Will's father had been a good man.
He held onto that thought with all his heart, but knew now, as he hadn't before, that regardless of the kind of man his father was, he was not tied to his father's fate unless he chose to be. He would use piracy for a while–he ignored the sting of his conscience asking him if he were truly ready for what that might entail–and he would find Elizabeth. He would give up searching for his father. Whether Bootstrap Bill was dead or alive, his son had wasted too much of his life in pursuit of a dream. It was time his dream's hinged on what he would chose to be and not cling to some image from the past that he could never reclaim. Even if he found his father, the time for bonding in a true father and son relationship was long past. The dreams of his childhood of finding his father and living a life with him were born of his own grief over his mother's death, and the shock of finding himself quite alone in the world. He had been, in all but fact, an orphan seeking a home, searching for someone to put his life right. It was a hard lesson to learn, but he had learned that he was the only one who could set anything right.
As for his father, he could, at best, be friends with the man whose name he bore. That would be enough. It would no longer haunt him.
He called down to Trilby and tossed a coil of rope to the man, as he climbed down and landed upon the ship's deck. Trilby clapped him on the back.
"You made quick work o'that, son."
Will laughed. "It seemed I was up there forever."
Trilby nodded knowingly. "Aye, that be the spell of salt air and ocean song that fiddled with yer sense of time."
Trilby looked at the young man, and Will had the feeling he was being judged, assessed. When Trilby smiled and smiled, seemingly to approve of something he'd seen, Will laughed again, and turned back to the chores that still needed doing.
He didn't notice Trilby glance skyward and nod as though he'd heard some instruction, nor did he sense the Captain's steady gaze as he became engrossed with repairs to the deck.
Nick barely noticed his own shivering, didn't begin to register the cold sweat that dripped down his face and into his eyes as he stared hard at the door. The door to his cabinfor he was the Captain of this vessel. He was one true captain of the Black Pearl regardless of Jack Sparrow's years at the helm. Fever-bright, his eyes didn't blink, didn't focus on the door, though they sawoh, they saw.
Sparrow's betrayal played out before him, and Nick now realized that Sparrow and Turner had played him for a fool all those years ago. For years they had allowed Nick to believe in their friendship and they had taken the first chance fate presented to them to take Nick's ship from him.
Rage spread through him–a warm glow that forced a sinister cackle from between his cracked lips.
His eyes rested now on a forlorn figure huddled in the far corner of the room, and he cut his laughter short. His captivehis revenge
He saw the boy–the son of one enemy and the friend of the other–stop his own shivering and he darted over to the boy's side. Grabbing the younger man by the hair, he hauled him to his feet.
"We're nearly there. Soon, they'll payand so will you."
Eyes widening in fear and apprehension, the boy swallowed audibly, which only sent Nick into further paroxysms.
Elizabeth has woken suddenly sitting straight up and staring at the wall across from her makeshift bed. She blinked several times, unsure for a moment what troubled her, until her dream replayed itself in her mind. It had been Will. She'd dreamed that he was sailing through rough seas to find her. He'd heard his voice, full of anguish and determination, calling to her. Believing Will needed her, she darted above deck, but the closer she drew to the room–to the cabin where that madman held her Will–the further she felt from him. She stopped in her tracks. Fear gripped her heart. Was Willhad heshe shook her head refusing to believe Nick had killed him. He needed Will to insure
Or maybe he didn't.
She blinked rapidly wondering where these thoughts had come from. Nick didn't need Will. He needed them to believe he held Will. He needed them to think Will was in jeopardy so that Jack would do his bidding. What if he had killed Will? What if Will was dying now even as she stood there debating with herself over the possibility?
She broke into a run and would have hurled herself headlong at the door that separated her from her darling Will if something hadn't stopped her. Screaming her rage and clawing and tearing at the arms that encircled her waist like iron bars, she didn't realize who it was until he'd carried her across the deck and released her.
She was spun around to lock eyes with Captain Jack Sparrow. His eyes were wide and as enraged as her own, and he leaned in close to her invading her personal space. His arms were locked on either side of her clasping the rail and effectively imprisoning her.
Rage coursed through her but before she could spit her words demanding her release, he spoke. His voice was low, menacing in a way she'd never heard from him before. "Nick ain't one to handle surprise well, lass. You startle him, you scare him, and"
"It's for Will that I did that! I think he might"
Jack stared at her and in his eyes she saw a willingness to listen to her, but now it seemed so ridiculous. I think Will might be"
"What?" Jack's brow furrowed at her hesitation. "You think he's dead." It wasn't a question.
"We haven't seen him. We haven't heard a word from him. Why won't Nick at least let one of us in to treat his injuries?"
"Nick needs him alive."
"He doesn't. He just needs us to believe he'll hurt Will if we don't do as we're asked."
Sparrow's eyes narrowed. Elizabeth shivered at how sinister it made him look, but she concentrated on his words.
"What is it you're sayin'?"
"We haven't seen him. We haven't heard him. What do you think I'm saying?"
Jack's eyes widened and he stepped back releasing his grip on the rail. Elizabeth didn't run. She didn't move. She waited for him to speak. She knew he was smarter than may gave him credit for, and she knew he was considering and discarding half a hundred scenarios in the time it took her to calm her breathing.
"Jack"
"No! Nick 'as Will in there! If 'e doesn't"
She nodded. "Then where is Willand who is in there?"
Jack swung an arm around her shoulders and she allowed him to lead her below.
The water was rough and growing rougher. Jack, Elizabeth, and William had been considering their options for some time now, and Jack felt no closer to a solution than he had when Elizabeth had first planted this despicable notion in his mind. He'd been formulating a plan before this. He'd believed he could use Nick's insecurities against him and draw him out of the cabin where William and Jack could overpower him and retrieve the injured Will.
He knew now it was still the best plan. He'd listened to Elizabeth's arguments and to William's thoughts on Nick, but the decision was ultimately his own. He knew he'd be forced to remind Elizabeth of that, but he could count on William's support. He had seen that much in his long time friend's eyes. William trusted Jack with his son's life. It was the highest praise Jack could think of.
"Elizabeth," Jack whispered as he looked with regret into the young woman's eyes. It was all he needed to say.
"No, Jack! You can't risk Will"
Jack shook his head. "What would ye 'ave me do, lass? If it is or isn't Will that Nick is holding, we're still faced with the same problem. Nick 'as us where 'e wants us. We have to remove that threat before we can check on the lad. If it ain't Will Turner, we'll know soon enough. Then we can go and find the lad."
Elizabeth was reluctant to concede the point. That much was obvious, but Jack knew she'd see reason. Even as he watched he saw the change in her eyes. He decided to push. "What would ye 'ave me do, Elizabeth?" He asked again.
She exhaled loudly but then she caught his eyes with her own and nodded once.
Jack smiled. "Good girl." He looked from William to Elizabeth and back again. "Then it's up to the two of you. Make sure Nick 'ears it all."
The two nodded and Jack watched them go. Nick would hear it all. Nick, being Nick, would not be able to pass up a chance like this. He should have been happy, but he wasn't. The idea that perhaps he'd left Will Turner stranded in a pirate's haven with no money, no chance of bartering passage, and no one to watch his back sent a shiver down his spine to rest in a lead heap in the pit of his stomach.
Nick listened to the laughter outside his doors. Creeping carefully forward he put against the wood and listened. At first he heard the cacophony of too many voices speaking at once, each trying to be heard. He frowned and listened harder, wincing when more laugher greeted his ears.
"I'm tellin' ye true! Only me and Jack ever sailed wi' the man before, and none of ye forget it! Nick weren't never nothin' but a coward! Jack says 'e ain't likely ever to come out from there as long as 'e 'as a sick lad to 'ide behind! Jack told ye about a man too afraid of heights to climb the riggin'? That be Nick!"
Again laughter–at his expense Nick now realized! Blind rage flooded him and he opened his mouth but was unable to give it voice. He glanced back at his insurance policy. The boy sat as far back in the corner as it was possible to sit. His eyes drifted shut and snapped open repeatedly as the boy fought sleep.
Afraid! He'd show them who was afraid! He'd made Bill's son too afraid to sleep!
He darted across the room and roughly hauled the lad to his feet. Eyes wide, the boy tried to pull away, but Nick's grip would not be broken. "Come along, Turner" Something in the back of his mind balked at using that name. Somethingsomething he couldn't quite recall about Will Turnertold him the name was wrong. He concentrated on that feeling, pulling, tugging, and chasing it around his mind hoping there was some way to bring it to light. Frustration forced him to abandon it when a loud laugh from outside the door reminded him once more of the reason he'd grabbed the boy to begin with.
"Come along, boy!" He snarled, spitting his words in distaste. "We'll let your papa see 'ow afraid I am of Jack Sparrow."
To Be Continued