T'was near upon Yule and at long last when the gloriously gilded Gaelstrom sliced up the Thames and put into port. Snow was falling and many a man from the mostly West-Indies crew marveled at the stuff. All was blanketed in white, even the battered docks of the dockyards. Many of the men were slipping and sliding on deck and dock, and some were engaged in a spirited skirmish of snowball warfare. But William Turner, he was doing his damnedest to convince one less than spirited crewmember of the merits of Christmastime in London.

"Come, Jack, think of it," he said, "all the puddin and pie, and roasted nuts, and Christmas pheasant. There'll be iceskatin on the pond, around the big bedecked tree reckon… and at night, cider pressed special to warm yer throat!"

"And toobloodymuch noise," Jack Sparrow said, cocking a brow. "Which I've had enough of, and which will be splendidly absent from the Gaelstrom while the lot of you hop it up at town." He bent to nudge snow off a coil of rope. "Sides," he said, voice a bit gruff, "I promised ol' Faust I'd take care of his ship."

"It's a privateer sloop, Jack. No one in London would dare touch the Gaelstrom."

"Even so, William, I made a promise and promise I shall keep."

William watched the younger man set to furling the sails. Sparrow seemed quite focused on the task, and William knew that meant the discussion had ended. Shoulders drooping, he took the rope off of his friend's hands.

"Four hands are better'n two," he told Jack.

Fast they worked together, but no less efficient. In mere moments the Gaelstrom's sails were tied neatly to her rigging and Jack Sparrow was coiling the remains of the rope as William stared out at the city beyond the dockyards. Sparrow said nothing, but his own glance lingered o'er the white-topped buildings too long.

"Won't be the same without ye, but I suspect ye have yer reasons."

Jack shrugged, swaying aside to gather net that had been left a mess by the others. "Much as told you already, didn't I?"

"Not the real ones," said William, hearing a heavy Scottish brogue bellow his name, "but t'is no matter. See ye soon, Jack."

"Au revoir," called Sparrow. "Oh, an' William?"

In mid step, William paused. He toed the powdery snow on the gangplank. Jack's silence drew his attention o'er his shoulder. There he found a friendly gaze and despite the cold, William felt quite warm.

"Happy Christmas, mate."