Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, I'm just borrowing them. Please don't sue me!
IBNerd: While I appreciate your point of view, this story is being told from my own meandering imagination, and if you feel you are capable of doing a better job, then I do not see anyone or anything keeping you from it. In regards to your contention that Bootstrap Bill and Governor Swann would not do such things, I tell you that I do not know of any parent who would not do everything within their power to ensure their child's happiness. Just because their choices and actions have led to a rather bizarre set of circumstances that have only made things worse for their respective offspring, doesn't mean that the choices they made weren't carried out with the best of intentions.
To those who are enjoying the story, here is hopefully more of the same. Feedback is much appreciated. Having said my piece, on with the story!
Jack was digging through a beautifully carved wooden chest when Elizabeth stepped into the captain's cabin. He had a large heap of finery scattered around himself in haphazard disregard for things that shouldn't be crumpled, and for an absurd moment, Elizabeth pictured him as a child playing dress-up in the closet of a respectable adult. She could hear him mumbling something about dresses, and she wondered what he wanted her for.
"Ah, there it is." He pulled out a beautiful chiffon gown of deep claret with black lace, and Elizabeth recognized it immediately.
"What do you think you're doing with that?"
"Well, I don't intend to be the one to wear it, Elizabeth. It's hardly my size, after all. I was hoping that you'd volunteer, since you looked so fine in it the last time you wore it."
"No." Her refusal stemmed from the bad memories that wrenched her stomach unpleasantly into the back of her throat. Jack's face clouded over, the sodden good nature disappearing briefly, before he rekindled his cheer, and flashed a gold-toothed smile at her, refusing to be deterred from whatever plan he'd been brewing.
"Oh, good! I shall inform the crew immediately that you wish to change course and return to Port Royal."
"What are you talking about? I wish to do nothing of the sort!" Jack closed the distance between them, and clasped her shoulders in his hands. Whether it was meant to be comforting or not, Elizabeth could not say, but it made her want to squirm away from his grip, something about being held fast kicked instinct from a small voice in the back of her head into a dull roar, but somehow she managed not to shrug him off. It might hurt his feelings, and right now she needed him on her side.
"In case you hadn't noticed, Mrs. Turner, the Black Pearl is rigged with black sails." That he felt the need to point out the obvious rather irritated Elizabeth, but she managed to bite back her initial response, which would have been far less pleasant and polite than the rebuttal she came up with.
"Yes, I know that, Jack."
"Good! Now… like it or not, that is one of the many things that makes this ship unique, and by association, easily identified even from a distance. Do you honestly want us to go sailing into Port of Spain harbor without so much as a by your leave, and see what happens without a plan?"
"I thought you and Will's father were friends." Elizabeth said softly, feeling lost suddenly in Jack's circuitous reasoning.
"Were, darling…were. And unless I can find a way to salvage this, we may never be again. Now, considering the current state of affairs, I would very much like it if you would be so kind as to put the dress on for me?" Hesitantly, Elizabeth took the gown in her hands, the very weight of it reminding her of a great many unpleasant experiences.
"I'm doing this for Will." She stated briskly, so there could be no mistaking her motive at a later date.
"I wouldn't have it any other way, love. I'll be on the main deck, if you should need anything." Jack moved to the door, to grant her a measure of privacy.
"Jack?" it was his turn to pause at the door with his hand on the latch. "Thank you for everything you've done for me…for Will." He grinned that fox's grin at her,
"I'll hear none of it; I owe you both at least once." And with that, Jack was out the door before she could add anything further.
To most anyone, the word Hell conjured up images of the fiery abyss, where there was no water to be had for the thirsty, and the damned burned in eternal torment. To William Teague, known to some as Bootstrap Bill, Hell was the darkest depths of the ocean floor, strapped to a rusting cannon as one waited for the sea to erode boot leather enough to break free of it.
Every night when he closed his eyes, he revisited the past unwilling; finding himself in the time and place that Barbossa and his mutinous crew had chosen to rid themselves of a seemingly perpetual thorn in their sides.
Jack had been tied hand and foot, trussed up like a bird, really, as they prepared a longboat to take him ashore. There were no ridiculous theatrics involved in getting rid of the former captain, no walking the plank; that sort of thing was reserved for the hapless unfortunates who didn't know how ruthless the crew could be, given half the opportunity. Bill watched, making sure that there wasn't anyone lingering too close before he crouched down by Jack, who looked remarkably cheerful for the fact they were stealing his ship from him and about to leave him on a deserted island with barely enough trees present to provide decent shade.
"I'm sorry, Jack. I tried to stop them, but Barbossa threatened to send me back to England in pieces if I didn't back down." Jack smiled as he looked up at his closest friend on the ship, and knew that things were changing that neither of them could effect. Still, he tried to remain cheerful about it.
"S'alright, Bill. I know you weren't behind this. You done what's right by you, can't expect more than that. You got a missus and boy to look after; getting stuck here with me wouldn't do them any good, would it?"
"This was supposed to be my last trip with you, Jack. You said we'd never have to sail again, unless we wanted to, after this. My boy is almost ten, and I've never laid eye on him." Jack took Bill's hands between his own, for all that he was securely tied at the wrists, a gentle forgiveness in his eyes that made Bill want to scream, to lash out at Barbossa and the others. This wasn't fair…it wasn't supposed to happen this way.
"You'll get your chance to see him soon enough. Keep your head down. And Bill… don't do anything stupid."
"I swear on it, Jack. Once I'm shut of this crew, I'm coming back for you. Promise me you'll hold on. Don't give up." Jack looked up, meeting Bill's eyes full on for the first time since Bootstrap had joined him on the lonely section of deck. The façade of false cheer cracked then, and Bill could see how much having his ship stolen from him, his dreams of treasure ripped from his grasp really hurt the rambling pirate captain. All of his oddities aside, Jack was one of the most fair people that Bill had ever met, and he was afraid of what this might do to Jack's character. He'd been too trusting to give Barbossa the coordinates to Isla de la Muerta, but Barbossa was a savvy conman, and knew how to talk a pleasant line better than most, when there was something he wanted.
"Don't make promises you can't keep, Bill. I'll see you around." The smile was a pale glimmer of his normal gusto, and it caught Bill unawares. "Best be moving on, now. I can see Twigg headed this way."
Barbossa was with him, and he had a single shot pistol in his hand, as well as Jack's favorite sword in the other, old though it was. Jack claimed the balance suited his hand. The new captain set Jack's effects in his lap with a sneer of his lips.
"Here're your things, Jack. Are you ready to take governance of your new island?" Jack looked down at the pistol in his lap.
"I'll be saving that shot for you, Barbossa. Don't say I didn't warn you."
They made Bill take the first piece of gold, even though they didn't believe there was an Aztec curse, it was always better to be safe than sorry. He'd refused, naturally, for his own reasons, which raised a cacophony of ribbing, both good natured, and meanly meant from the rest of the crew that he was afraid. Their suspicions for his motive were completely off the mark.
Barbossa cocked a pistol and set it to the back of Bill's head, convincing him once more that it was in his own best interests, as well as that of his wife and son, to be the first to plunder the glittering hoard. His stomach churning with guilt, Bootstrap lifted a golden medallion from the stone chest they'd opened. Someone tittered nervously; Bootstrap thought it must have been Ragetti, the fool. They all stood around him, watching, waiting to see what might happen as a result of taking from the accursed treasure. Bill stood there in silence, feeling his shame twist in his guts. Jack should have been here. He'd been the one to sell the idea to the crew, speaking of treasure untold, and he'd been right…he'd been right, and they'd stolen his glory from him, and left him on an empty beach.
Bill shrugged finally, and tucked the gold into his pocket, looking back over at Barbossa as though to ask him whether he was satisfied. Outside, the clouds churned; they'd been racing a storm here for the last day, and Bill wasn't sure they'd be off the island before it hit in full force.
"Everyone load up, we're off this piece of rock as soon as the chest is empty." At Barbossa's word, the crew began stuffing their pockets with as much swag as they could carry, but Bill had just the one… that's all he wanted, he certainly didn't deserve more than that.
It was the hunger that tipped Bill off, at first. Nothing he ate could even begin to touch the gut-gnawing hunger, and as he listened to the rumblings of the crew, he knew that he was not the only one affected. But still they sailed on. Under cloudy skies they arrived in Tortuga, eager to spend their riches on rum and women and any other entertainment that could be found in the den of pirates.
Bootstrap spent none of it, instead, he went to the docks, his mind made up on the best way to deal with the situation. He deserved the curse, he knew that now…if he had spoken more loudly, if he had done anything at all to help Jack, so that he wasn't left on that rock, maybe none of them would have come to this pass. But it was too late, and like it or not, this is what had become of them. They deserved it, all of them, and he could not exclude himself from their motley company, since he hadn't lifted a finger to stop them. He found a ship sailing for England, and bartered for specifics, a package for his boy… a keepsake that would remind him of his dad, and nothing more. It was almost too easy.
Of course, at moonrise that night, on the first clear night since they'd left Isla de la Muerta, they got a shock of a different sort. None of them were of the flesh, but merely scraps of cloth and bones, even Bill, who was swiftly located and returned to the Pearl. Barbossa was furious. He sent them back into the town to get the gold they'd been so free in spending, his thinking was simple…if they returned all of the gold, maybe things would go better for them. All the while, he cursed Jack's name.
Back on Isla de la Muerta, everyone returned the gold that could be accounted for, and waited breathlessly, hoping to see the curse reversed. Bill was the last, and Barbossa dragged him forward, pointing to the chest.
"Where's the piece you took, Bootstrap? Everybody has returned what they took that could be found. Where's yours?"
Bill gave in to the unsavory urge to laugh outright at Barbossa. It earned him a strike across the face, but still it was satisfying.
"We deserve to be curse, for what we did to Jack. I sent my piece away, and I hope you never find it, none of you!" of course, Barbossa was far smarter than he initially looked, because it dawned on him where the gold may have gone.
"You sent it off to London to your boy." There was a growl in his voice, "Well then, since it's clear that you won't sail in the same direction as the rest of us, Bill, this is where you'll be getting off. Tie him up, boys. We have a day's journey ahead of us."
The water closed over Bootstrap's head far too swiftly, the weight of the cannon they'd strapped him to pulling him down…down. He tried to hold his breath, but the pressures around him rose, and he let it out, only to discover that breathing was no longer necessity, and in fact helped relieve the feeling of crushing that he'd begun to experience, the deeper he was pulled.
It was so dark that he couldn't see his hand in front of his face, a rather disconcerting realization, and still he was pulled down. He inched his way downward against the chains around his ankles looking for some way to undo them, some way that he could get free. And there was nothing for it. He was stuck.
Bill woke with a gasp, expecting to cough water from his lungs; the fear plagued him every time he woke like this after such dreams. He wasn't sure what had roused him in the early hours of the morning, but he was struck with a fresh bolt of anticipation. For days they'd been watching the harbor for signs of the Sunlight Dreamer, the arrival of his son in Port of Spain was the only thing he could properly focus on. For a flash of a moment, he experienced yet another surge of guilt over his treatment of Jack. Yet again, he'd made the wrong decision, seemingly for all the right reasons, and it nagged at him in a most unpleasant manner. He'd apologize later, if the occasion ever arose, but surely Jack would understand why he'd done it… Jack of all people seemed to know him best.
Bill sighed, and scrubbed at his face, to try and clear the cobwebs from his head, when there came a knocking at the door, and something told him it wasn't the first knock.
"Enter." He invited his unknown visitor, and the door opened to admit one of the lieutenants from the fort.
"Sir, I'm sorry to wake you, but the garrison thought you should know we've spotted black sails coming into port. That ship as was here at the beginning of the month is back." Bill frowned trying to make sense of it. Why would Jack come back here? And where had he gone, for that matter? If he had gone to Port Royal, as was his stated intention, and had time to come back after, then where was the Sunlight Dreamer, and his son? For a moment, anger twisted in him, and he decided that the answer was simple. Jack had overtaken the Sunlight Dreamer on her journey back, and he'd taken his son again. But reason flew in the face of that. If Jack had Will, why was he here, and not on his way back to Port Royal with the boy? There were too many questions, and not enough answers. Sighing, Bill nodded to the lieutenant who was still waiting expectantly for an indication he'd been heard.
"Alright, let me dress and I'll go down to the harbor to meet with them. I don't think they're here to sack the town, so don't get the men all in a dither over this."
Jack had known all along that Commodore James Norrington was a man accustomed to getting his way. He had, after all, risen through the ranks of Her Majesty's Navy with a combination of skill, hard work and determination. However, Jack still found himself rather put out by the fact that James had somehow insinuated himself into the party that went ashore despite Jack's best efforts to delay him.
Jack stepped from the longboat and clambered up the ladder nailed to the side of the dock, with Anamaria and Gibbs directly behind him. Elizabeth followed demurely, and Jack admitted to himself with a small pang that the only thing she had in her favor at the moment was her upbringing, it was only natural that she fall back on what she knew, and had been trained for. After she stepped forward onto the dock, Norrington was behind her almost immediately, a seeming honor guard, though Jack was certain that he could hold his own should trouble arise. The five of them together made a somewhat motley group, of that Jack had no doubt, but they stood there waiting, because the one man they'd come to see was walking down the dock to meet them.
Jack simply waited. It was not, he told himself, to allow Bill, the man who had set them all in motion, to get the first word in. No… it was to give Elizabeth and Norrington time to process what their eyes were telling them, and to recover themselves in the face of the uncanny resemblance of the man before them to their beloved swordsmith. Elizabeth acted against the only avenue open to a woman of gentle breeding. Jack was not sure what Bill was expecting, but it was not for the young woman to march forward the necessary three steps to put her in reach of him, and deliver a rather resounding slap to his cheek.
"Bloody hell, Jack, do all of your women slap!" Bill yelped, his hand going to his cheek.
"Captain Sparrow, a word with you, if I may?" the second question came from Norrington, predictably, and Jack found himself hard pressed to answer both at once…leastwise with a straight face. Norrington, for his part, had come to the correct conclusion that Jack knew a great deal more than he was letting on, and that he certainly hadn't told James everything he thought he ought to know.
"Sorry, mate…she's not mine." Jack responded with that same devil-may-care grin that everyone had become so familiar with. "In a few moments, Jimmy." His answer to James earned him an instant scowl from the commodore; he really needed to learn to lighten up. Norrington refused to be deterred so easily from his present heading, however, and as Anamaria stepped up and to Elizabeth's side, holding a murmured conversation with the governor's daughter, Jack presumed she was making an effort to calm the girl down.
"Is this Mr. Turner's father?"
"That's very observant of you, Commodore, congratulations!"
"Am I to presume he'll assist us in locating the men who've kidnapped Mr. Turner?" Twice, Jack had attempted to interrupt the interrogation, for that is what it was beginning to feel like, to do something so astoundingly proper as make introductions.
"Hopefully I can introduce all of you?" the pointed question was enough to remind them all of manners, and it was a strange thing, considering that it came from Jack, whom nobody expected to have much in the way of manners at all. "Anamaria, I believe you've met," he spoke, not to Norrington and the party, but to Bill, who nodded his head, an air of weary patience settling over him. He knew better than any of them how well Jack liked to be in control of the situation. This seemed almost a game for him. "This is Mr. Gibbs, my quartermaster, and Commodore Norrington, who has graciously accompanied us here to Trinidad."
"You don't look like a navy man," Bill interrupted, casting a suspicious glance toward James.
"And you don't look much like a governor, sir." Norrington responded tartly, making it clear that tempers were short, and likely to remain that way until more answers were had to his satisfaction.
"Elizabeth Turner," Jack introduced the most important member of their little party last, bringing all eyes back to her. Elizabeth, realizing that she had everyone's attention, dropped a stiff curtsey, attempting to remain civil for the moment.
"I give you all Governor William Teague of Trinidad." Bill's eyes widened perceptibly as Elizabeth was introduced, and took a step back to put more distance between himself and the irate young woman. Somewhere in the back of his mind it occurred to him that Jack was giving him an easy way to cover up his involvement in Will's apparent disappearance from Port Royal, but the young Mrs. Turner had other ideas, and was not allowing any chance to shed the blame.
"I would greatly appreciate it if you would return my husband to me, Governor Teague." The words were formal, but did nothing to soften the accusation. Bill sighed, accepting the blame as he gave an honest answer. Something in her eyes, in her expression told him that he owed her that much.
"Would that I could, Mrs. Turner, but he is not here." The silence stretched out between them all as the shock of his answer was absorbed in varying degrees by those who had come to reclaim the missing blacksmith. It was Norrington who recovered his wits first to ask the question that was weighing heavily on all their minds.
"With all due respect, Governor Teague, if Will Turner is not here… then where is he?"
Once they'd passed beyond sight of land, Will had been untied, and the gag had been removed before he'd been given brief instructions. His freedom on the ship depended entirely on how he comported himself. If he lent a hand with the sails, as well as other regular shipboard duties, he was welcome to roam where he would, so long as that did not include the captain's cabin. That private demesne was strictly the domain of Bess herself, and he was only allowed in there upon her invitation alone. He determined from the outset that he would just as soon do nothing to garner such an interest, for he wanted nothing to do with the woman, stunning beauty or not.
Will stood on the starboard side, attempting to remain out of the way while the rest of the crew attended to the business of sailing the ship. They seemed to have underestimated his intelligence, for he was trying to determine which way they were traveling by taking note of the sun still on the rise to the east. It didn't really help, but it gave him a small sense of control over the situation. More than anything, he felt positively drained of energy, and couldn't rightly guess why. He didn't feel ill, precisely, just worn thin. He was content merely to lean on the rail and observe, for the moment.
A light footstep coming up behind him told him before he even caught scent of her perfume that his intentions to avoid Bess were proving futile.
"Tell me what your name is?" her accent was refreshingly English, something Will hadn't been expecting, but he still wasn't sure he wanted to answer her. Giving in meant giving her some power over him, and he was reluctant to yield even that much.
"I would really rather not," he responded, keeping his voice quiet and polite.
"Come now, what harm can it do?" he flicked dark eyes her way, a bit surprised that she could see nothing wrong in what she'd done… that she had paid gold to another man to enslave him, for whatever purpose she had in mind. Instead of answering, he nodded his head toward a passing crewman.
"I couldn't help but notice that you seem to have a penchant for collecting attractive young men. Is there any particular reason for this, or are you just obsessed with fine things?" Bess laughed, and he noted that there was nothing friendly or kind in the sound. She put her hand on his arm, drawing his gaze yet again.
"And is there any wrong if I choose to surround myself with beautiful things? I have worked hard enough at it, young master, it would seem to me the reward should be of my own choosing."
"You paid a man." He swallowed, struggling with how to word it that wouldn't result in angering her, for he felt he was walking a very fine edge, in this respect. "You paid a man, a slaver, for me. I just want to go home, to Port Royal." She took his hand in hers, studying his fingers with a thoughtful frown on her face.
"You work for a living…a hard living, at that. Blacksmith's apprentice, then?" she traced the faint scars of old burns on the backs of his hands with light fingertips, "You have no hope of gaining your own shop any time soon, young sir. The life I offer you could be more…so much more."
"I am my own master," Will interjected, his voice tense as he pulled his hand free of her light grasp, making no attempt to hide the fact that he wiped it on his breeches, still the only article of clothing he could call his own.
"Were, youngling… you were your own master, but now I am your mistress, is that not so? You have no hope of swimming back to Tortuga, we are too far from land for you to survive such an attempt, and I don't care what Lotter said, you do seem a bit peaky to me. You should accept what has happened to you with grace." She smiled up at him, and there was an edge of harshness in her expression. "It could go so much worse for you. I could put you back in the cell we kept you in while we were setting sail."
"I don't know what bothers me more, your lack of compassion in dealing in slavery, or that you do it so often there's a cage in your hold."
"Your words can't hurt me, boy. I'm past that sort of thing. Now I'll be having your name, or you'll spend the rest of the voyage in the hold, and the devil knows, sunlight never did anyone more harm than good."
"Will Turner," he spat his name as an epithet, it hadn't done him any good, in the past, he didn't believe it would do him any good now.
"Is that so? Welcome aboard the Devil's Dowry, Mr. Turner. I hope you find your stay a pleasant one."
"Have you completely lost your mind?" Elizabeth was positively livid, at the moment, and Jack couldn't think of a thing to say that might calm her.
"I just need another day to get things settled here, so that I might leave Port of Spain to her own devices. Please, Elizabeth…"
"That's Mrs. Turner, Governor Teague. I have no wish to be familiar with the likes of you. You paid pirates to kidnap your own son from a place he was happy, just because you…" she picked up the glass of rum that Jack had been reaching for and threw it to the floor, the glass shattering with a spray of dark liquid in a corona around it. "STOP DRINKING!" Jack obligingly backed away a few steps, his hands bobbing and weaving in front of his chest with no rhyme or reason.
"Alright, love… alright, just calm down, please? That shade of red does nothing for your complexion." She turned back to Teague and jabbed him in the chest with a straight finger, as though she didn't already have his complete attention.
"You've delayed us by two days as it is, with your preparations to leave. Are you trying to give those men time to do something terrible to Will, or is it just happenstance that has kept us here this long?" Bill pressed his lips together to keep himself from responding with rudeness. He couldn't begin to imagine how Elizabeth was feeling at this point, since they had yet to determine exactly where and when his plan had gone wrong. When he finally spoke, his voice held a level measure of tolerance for her outburst.
"I paid the captain of the Sunlight Dreamer to bring Will here without harm, Mrs. Turner. That they have not arrived here before you is both disturbing, and yet unsurprising. There is little doubt that the Black Pearl is the fastest ship in these waters, it's quite possible that you passed the Dreamer by, either in the night, or during the storm that Jack spoke of."
"I'm not willing to accept that, Governor Teague. If we have arrived here and the Sunlight Dreamer has not, then the logical conclusion is not a good one. Either they changed their minds about the value of their passenger, and decided to do something rather unsavory in terms of the disposition of his person, or they've met with ill fortune." It was Norrington's turn to speak his mind. "I know that this is the last thought anyone wants to entertain, but is it even the slightest possibility they changed course, and sailed for Tortuga to sell him for a profit?" James was, he admitted to himself, willing to believe the worst sort of motive when discussing pirates, and it wouldn't surprise him to learn that they'd sold Will into slavery to make a little more money.
Jack opened his mouth to voice a protest to such a notion, more for the fact that Elizabeth looked close to tears as it was, than any real argument that pirates were not the worst sort of villain that the commodore could imagine. Governor Teague's maid came into the study where the four of them were gathered; Anamaria and Mr. Gibbs had returned to the Pearl to make sure the crew stayed out of trouble, leaving the planning session to brighter minds, or so they claimed.
"Would you like me to bring the tea, Governor Teague?" she asked respectfully. Jack reflected that she was a demure little thing, dark hair pulled back into a bun, covered by a maid's cap, and he wondered if he'd have time… Elizabeth's deep sigh of frustration pulled his mind back to the present company, and he cleared his throat, as well as his thoughts of anything that didn't immediately help the situation.
"Yes, Gabrielle, that would be very good of you, my dear. Service for four, if you please." She smiled, her cheek dimpling, and dropped a curtsey before moving from the room. "I'll bring a broom as well, sir, to clean that little spill up." Jack watched her go until he realized that he was being addressed.
"Jack? Do you think it would be the wiser course to sail to Tortuga and see if we might find news of the Sunlight Dreamer there? At the very least, word passes from ship to ship, and we might have a better chance of tracking her down by going to the heart of where the gossip flies." Jack blinked, trying to remember what the conversation was, much less where he scored a place in it. He'd been staring sadly at the stain on the floor that had once been a glass of rum, and considering what a waste it had been.
"Er…yes. The Black Pearl is at your disposal of course, until such a time as we manage to catch up with young William, and return him to those who love him best." He was frowning at Bill now, a clear indication that he wasn't happy with the way things had gone…they had a long talk ahead of them, Jack was fairly certain of it.
Norrington sat off to the side and clenched his hands into fists. It was better, he supposed, than the alternative of laying into Jack, to make him stop acting as though he were perpetually drunk. James knew for a fact he was not, since the only thing he'd had to drink was a glass of grog every day, and that was for the touch of lime alone.
"I suppose it's settled then. We leave on the morning tide." The decision came from William Teague, and James had to respect that he'd shortened his preparations by an entire day to accommodate his new daughter-in-law's impatience to be away.
They'd been at sea for nearly a week before that talk finally came due. Jack had been putting it off for his own reasons, enjoying watching Elizabeth Turner become adept at handling a sail and tying off a line as neatly as any of the other crewmembers aboard the Black Pearl, and he wasn't sure he was ready to speak to Bill about the past, or the present either one. It wasn't really like Bill had given him nowhere else to go, either, as he came up beside him at the helm, where Jack was idly holding the ship's wheel on the course they'd set. The silence stretched between them until it was tight enough to twang if plucked, and Jack spoke first.
"Listen, mate, I know the scenery is wonderful from this particular vantage, but there's really only room for one of us up here at a time, so whatever you've come to say, you'd do best to get it off your chest before the weight sinks you all over again." The words he chose were slightly cruel and he knew it, even before Bill flinched back, and went so far as to take a step to leave Jack to his own thoughts. Jack stilled him with an upraised hand.
"I'm not going to tell you that it's all roses between us, Bill, the things you done in getting your way have caused a great deal more harm than good, despite the fact that I tried to warn you off the present course when you tried to twist me arm into doing it for you." Jack turned the wheel slightly, the creak of timbers music to his ears as the Pearl cut through the water. The weather was beautiful, and had been for several days, a fact that Jack was deeply grateful for. There was no slack to the sails as they raced for Tortuga, and whatever answer might be forthcoming in that den of iniquity.
"I came to apologize, though I daresay you're very welcome to tell me to shove it, Jack." Bill said finally, his voice toned down to make it clear that his words were for Jack's ears alone.
"Don't be stupid, Bill. Your actions have hurt Elizabeth Turner far more than they have me. Even threatening to hang me was an empty promise, as I know you wouldn't do that, no matter how much you blustered and blew. You took her young man away from her, and she's aching for him." Jack motioned with his chin toward where Anamaria was teaching Elizabeth yet another knot to secure ropes. "She keeps busy because staying still too long gives her too much time to think about what might be happening to Will. That's your fault, and I'm not the one that should be hearing how sorry you are." Bill gave forth with a deep sigh, conceding the point.
"You're right, but I don't have the faintest idea of how to talk to her."
"Well, don't be asking Captain Jack, he has enough trouble keeping peace with her, savvy? It's your problem, and you're the one as needs to solve it, mate." Bill's face took on a thoughtful cast, but his considerations were interrupted as a green and gold parrot flapped down and landed on Jack's shoulder.
"Sail ho! Sail ho!" Jack's chin jerked up and he looked up toward the crow's nest, where Mr. Cotton was on post, watching the horizon. The mute sailor was pointing in the direction they were traveling in, to indicate that a ship was on the approach. Jack wondered once again how the man had taught the parrot the key phrases he used to communicate with the rest of the crew, but such a thought had no place at this point in time.
"Apparently, we're about to have company." Jack suggested before looking toward where Anamaria was still by Elizabeth, though she'd troubled herself to stand. He raised his voice so that she might hear his orders, "Make sure the lads are ready for trouble…and raise the white flag. The sooner we start asking for information, the sooner we'll find the Sunlight Dreamer, and young Will Turner."
Will had been set to the rather ironic task of making sure all the ship's swords had sharp blades. He'd been given a whetstone with which to accomplish the job, and left to his own devices. The men had all brought their swords to him, and left them to be attended to, and he was amazed at the amount of trust that was being given in leaving him with an amassed pile of weapons that he could use against them.
The fact of the matter was, even if he took it into his head to try and use one of the swords, there were too many of them for him to be able to keep the weapons away from their owners, and he recognized the futility of even making such an attempt. What he was grateful for was simple. Bess made sure he was given the opportunity to eat as much as he wanted, though he admitted that wasn't much, and the job he'd been appointed involved being able to sit down, which he felt he had need of. Every time he stood up, his head swam and dark spots danced before his eyes.
The Devil's Dowry was a quarter into the wind, and the going had been fairly slow, though Bess didn't seem to be in any particular hurry to get wherever they were traveling to. It was a fine day, and Will had seated himself in a patch of sunlight, because it made the skin of his face ache just a fraction less than it did when he sat in the shade, where shivering seemed to be the normal course of events. He didn't know what manner of curse he was under, though he was fairly certain there was one, given what he'd seen of the ring before Webster, captain of the Sunlight Dreamer, had sold him to Lotter the slaver. They'd also given him more to wear than the travel-stained white breeches, now more the worse for wear than he would have liked, considering what they meant to him. He pulled the frayed captain's coat around his shoulders, and didn't care to question where they'd come by it, he would have to be satisfied that they at least recognized he needed to feel warm, or at least warmer than the rest of them.
Will was sitting on the deck not far from the steerage column, offering a better vantage of the surrounding waters, just because he had an overwhelming desire to see where they were going. There had been no land for days, not since Bess had ported at an unnamed island for half a day, conducting whatever business was her own to keep track of. Will had asked, but had been told to mind his nose didn't end up where it didn't belong, and he decided that the better course would simply be to keep his curiosity contained. It wasn't easy, however, just another symptom of his inability to be in control of the situation in any way shape or form. And he missed Elizabeth more with every breath he took. Sleeping was something of a mercy, because more than half the time, he couldn't remember what he'd been dreaming about.
Above, from the crow's nest, there came a sharp whistle, and the man who was on lookout shouted down for everyone's benefit, even as he began to scramble frantically down the multitude of lines that ran into the rigging. "Sails on the horizon, cap'n! Black sails! I think it's the Black Pearl." The information seemed to shake the young man, and he looked to the cabin where Bess was just emerging, a cool look on her face as she considered the wind, and the situation. "Should we run, cap'n?"
Will had sprung to his feet, though it made him dizzy, and stared vainly in the direction the lookout had pointed, trying to spot those black sails as relief surged to the fore. If he could talk to Jack, maybe he'd be able to bargain with Bess for his release. Her next words made it clear that whatever hopes he'd been entertaining were as useless as his myriad plans to use the swords to win his freedom.
"Take the smith below; I don't want Captain Sparrow relieving me of my prize, when I haven't had any real time to appreciate him." She smiled winsomely at Will, even as he bent and took a sword in his hand, trying to keep the men who moved to follow her orders at bay though they came for him anyway, seemingly nonplussed by the threat he posed so armed.
"None of that now, my dear. You're going to wear yourself out with all this fretting. Is Captain Sparrow a friend of yours, then? He always did seem a bit too goody-two-shoes for the pirating business, but I've heard some very interesting stories where he's concerned. You and I can talk about them later, after I've sent him along on his way."
Will tried to twist his way free of the hands that grasped his arms on both sides, and a dark feeling of hate began to worm its way into his heart. This was just one more failure on his part to be able to affect events as they transpired, his hope that they'd be satisfied merely with putting him in that damnable cage were crushed like glass beneath a boot heel as Bess called instructions after her darling men to make sure he wasn't capable of drawing attention to himself in his confinement. He didn't remember what manner of words he shouted as he was dragged below decks, but none of it was worthy of repetition later.