Disclaimer: I don't own POTC. I do own a cat.

This chapter is short, I know. Due to school and A.D. it'll take longer to get these chapters out.

Chapter 3

Elizabeth looked around the inn's large dining room. Still no sign of Will. He was nearly three hours late. Hopefully he had just lost track of time.

Although she tried to reassure herself, Elizabeth felt her heart beat faster every time a messenger ran in. Each time it grew hard to breath whenever anyone approached her in a solemn mood. Her greatest fear had been London streets at night, and now her husband was out there alone. She worried that someone would tell her that there was an accident or other ill news of Will.

At the same time that she feared the messengers, she awaited each one eagerly. There was the chance that Will had sent her a message to explain himself before arriving later. Hopefully it wouldn't get too late. Their ship for Port Royal left in the morning. So some letter would arrive soon, Elizabeth reassured herself.

Little did she know how long it would be before she would hear from Will.

"You'll receive all your supplies from Mr. Dane. A mess kit and clothes befitting your rank. These expenses will be taken from your first salary. Anything else purchased from Mr. Dane will also be taken from your account. Is that clear?"

There were grumbled responses from the newest members of the crew. Captain Moyer repeated the question until he heard loud "Yes, sir!" from the men. Most of the surly looking group had looks of contempt fixed on the captain. Will just kept his gaze low, deep in thought. How much would parchment take from his salary? Stamps? Envelopes? He had to let Elizabeth know what had happened to him.

It was an odd bunch assembled. None were there by choice. Two groups had been brought by the press gang. One came earlier. The captain was giving the tour now that everyone was present. Most were the pressed men, but there were one or two boys that were to be powder monkeys.

"Until you get yourself a hammock, you will sleep on the floor. However, there are a few open bunks that I am aware of. Your division leader will inform you of your duties. Dismissed!" As the men walked below deck, Moyer scanned them with sharp eyes. His gaze met Will's, and there was an unspoken connection. Will went over to him. The captain was staring at the sea when he started talking.

"Are you of relation to the pirate known as Bootstrap Bill Turner?"

"I am his son, sir."

"Then you are the same Will Turner that was in the whole Black Pearl fiasco," the captain smirked, still not looking at Will.

"Yes, sir."

"This ship has been in the water for five years. It has grown a reputation in that time as the Un-Jolly Roger. When we fight pirates, you will not dessert? You will kill pirates in the name of your country, against your blood?"

"I am not my father, sir," Will insisted. He knew that well enough, although Jack Sparrow might claim otherwise. "Despite my past actions," he added sheepishly.

"Good. I know what it's like to be judged by blood." Moyer turned, facing him for the first time. "Good night." And the captain walked away, leaving Will very confused.