RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL
You know, this thought just occurred to me: in having succumbed to writing fanfiction, my life has now sunk as far as it could go.
CAST OF THOUSANDS: That's bloody depressing, mate.
ME: I take comfort in the thought that I am not alone.
CAST OF THOUSANDS: That's even more depressing.
Sorry, no Jack in this chapter. Then why bother to read it at all, you wonder. But don't worry. He'll be coming back soon, even though I don't own him and probably shouldn't put words in his mouth.
Chapter Two: From Out of Nowhere, Continued
Will felt odd as the three of them, an accompaniment of Marines and officers tailing Norrington, strode down the streets of Port Royal, Elizabeth and the Commodore engaged in light conversation. It had been a year since either he or Elizabeth had seen Jack Sparrow. But his exploits in the time between had reached their ears well enough.
The Duty Free was docked not far from the Dauntless, still the largest ship in the Commodore's fleet and still the slowest. Elizabeth slipped as she walked up the wet pier in shoes not intended for such an outing. Both Will and Norrington reached to grab an arm to steady her, but she brushed them off, laughing. "Really slippy down here," she explained. Will shook his head and grinned as well.
Waiting at the Dauntless was a pasty-faced officer whose name, Will recalled, was Lieutenant Gillette. He wore a white wig, an officer's uniform, and a hangdog expression.
"Lieutenant Gillette," Norrington said, somewhat pompously. "What happened with Sparrow?"
Gillette seemed to wilt. "He...disappeared, sir."
Norrington gave him an official, pompous, like-I-believe-that look. "He disappeared, Lieutenant Gillette?"
Will kind of wondered how Gillette had become Norrington's second-in-command. Norrington appeared to be contemplating that question himself.
"What, exactly, did Sparrow do?" Norrington asked. Gillette opened his mouth to speak, and Norrington hastily rephrased his question. "In other words, what happened?" he inquired.
"By the time I arrived on the scene, Sparrow had already boarded the Duty Free and plundered it," recited Gillette glumly. Norrington winced at the "plundering." "He and his crew had just returned to the Black Pearl when they must have spotted us. Sparrow didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave, but he turned her around, and then..." Gillette paused, "they were just gone. There was obviously no way to catch Sparrow, so we docked the Dauntless to the Duty Free and freed her crew."
Norrington frowned. "What about the captain?" he asked.
"The captain died en route from England only three days out," Gillette explained.
"What of?" Elizabeth asked thoughtlessly.
"Scurvy, Miss Swann," Gillette informed her.
"How terrible," Elizabeth commented helplessly.
Norrington appeared to regroup. Digesting this unappetizing information. Wondering why on earth he had made the pasty-faced officer in front of him his second-in-command. Arriving at the answer to the question "Why can't I catch Sparrow?"
"All right," he said. "I want the captain's logbook and official records."
Gillette began the process of scurrying away, presumably to fetch them. "I'll get them myself," Norrington told him, locking his hands behind his back, spinning sharply on his heel, striding away.
Will glanced at Elizabeth, who shrugged and began to follow the commodore, half-lifting her skirts in order to keep up with his long stride. Will, in his breeches, had less of a problem in that department, but still found himself struggling to keep up.
The captain's logbook and any official records would be in the captain's quarters, so it was no surprise to Will when he found himself there. There was an old, battered desk under a port. Norrington began rummaging though the drawers, taking papers here and there. After some poking around, he pulled out a logbook that looked like the desk; it was worn and battered and had obviously seen better days. Lots of them.
Norrington straightened up under an armload of papers and the logbook, and as he did so, the logbook slid off the stack of papers and onto the floor. It came to land half-opened to a letter that looked fairly clean and new when compared to the desk and logbook. Will bent to retrieve it. His eyes slid down the letter casually and stopped cold when they reached the signature. His hand trembled. His face went white so rapidly that Elizabeth inadvertently glanced at the floor to see if a pool of blood had collected there, which Will would have seen if his eyes hadn't been glued to the letter.
Will suddenly became aware of the fact that Elizabeth had been talking to him for some time now. He focused on her voice. She was saying, "Will, what is it?" in a concerned sort of way.
"This," said Will numbly.
"Will?" Elizabeth's voice dropped to a whisper. "What is it?" Will passed the letter to her wordlessly. She read it all. Her brow furrowed in concern as she began, but when she reached the signature, her eyebrows shot upwards. "Will, this signature..." she began, but her voice trailed off.
"It's signed 'Bill Turner,'" Will finished for her hoarsely. "This letter was written by my father."
Norrington was staring at him. "But isn't he supposed to be dead?" he asked bluntly.
"Yes," Will said, an emotion constricting his throat. "He's supposed to be resting in pieces at the bottom of Davy Jones' locker."
Norrington took the letter from Elizabeth's hand, glancing first at Will as if seeking his permission. "It's dated six months ago," he remarked, the words loud in the hushed quiet of the cabin.
"What does it mean?" Elizabeth asked timidly. Will realized vaguely that she was afraid of him, for him, of how he was acting.
"What difference does it make?" Will snapped at her, and Elizabeth drew back, away from him. Part of him felt guilty for hurting her, but a side he'd never known he possessed rejoiced in her pain. "My father was alive when he wrote this."
He looked away from Elizabeth's hurt look and Norrington's deep frown. "My father's alive," he said quietly.
Elizabeth and Norrington could only stare at him.
Shocking, eh?
CAST OF THOUSANDS: What, are you trying to be Master of Surprise?
ME: Totally. Wait 'til my next post, when I'll be Master of Deception. Nothing I write will be as it seems.
CAST OF THOUSANDS: Oh, and by the way, the Master of Deception wants you to review, but you didn't hear it from us.
