Chapter 2
"An Unawaited Threat"
At first, it didn't quite register with Elizabeth. It was as if she had heard the words escaping her maid's mouth but they meant nothing in her head- just floating and floating until ever so slowly, they began to make sense.… A small laugh of disbelief and innocent misunderstanding escaped Elizabeth's lips. "What?"
"Dead!" Estella repeated, shaking and as pale as her bonnet. "He's dead, milady!"
"Wait a minute-" Will pushed past Estella and took off down the stairway, while Elizabeth stood, her eyebrows furrowed with perplexity and her mouth moving in search of words that never came. 'He was murdered in the drawing room.…' Could she be serious? Her father? Gone? No, that was impossible- she just saw him a few seconds ago, he couldn't be dead! No, perhaps he just fell asleep on the sofa? Yes. That seemed right. Estella had to be mistaken.
"Didn't you hear the gunshot?" Estella asked quietly.
Elizabeth felt her blood run cold as her hopes of Estella bumbling things up were shattered like a piece of china dropped on the marble floor of her beloved home. Gunshot? '… murdered in the drawing room …' She looked up at Estella, all panicked and disheveled, and she shook her head truthfully. Gunshot? She hadn't heard a gunshot.…
'…murdered…' Estella watched Elizabeth, awaiting her reaction. But she didn't seem to be doing anything."Milady?"
'…the gunshot…' Gunshot.… Elizabeth's bemused expression returned in a greater depth as she let her mind think about it- molding this idea in her head. There was a gunshot so therefore, Estella must have heard it or seen it happen. But wasn't that odd? Such a silent moment and never did the sound even distinctly reach her ears. In fact, after Jack had stomped off in his so-called "fury," the house had been thoroughly silent. Completely silent to her- except for the gentle sound of Will's soft voice and eventually his breath. Surely, Jack was a bit … gaudy, but he certainly wouldn't have droned out the gunshot. And she knew for a fact that Will's voice could be loud when drawn to enough anger (a place that usually only Jack, foes and sometimes Commodore Norrington -unintentionally, I assure you- could make him get to), but Will was speaking quite softly at the time. He was in a gentle mood, something delicate enough to comfort a small baby (and yet strong enough to make Elizabeth secretly go weak at the knees- but she never would confess to that lest he use it to his advantage in the near future). '…Gunshot…'
"There must be a mistake," she muttered and she drove past her maid, following in Will's footsteps down to the drawing room at a rapid pace, her body shaking, her mind reeling, and her heart praying that something about this whole situation was indeed very wrong.
About a year ago, Commodore Norrington was ready to pull his hair out of his head in the utter frustration that he felt from his current situation. Elizabeth had been kidnaped by pirates and the Black Pearl had managed to tear the town into pieces whilst searching for all the gold and jewels her crew's greedy arms could carry. She was a hungry ship, Norrington had known that- seemingly always craving for more gold, more pearls, more silver, more silk, more and more and more of any material of value in this world. And she was seemingly starving for blood- life, innocent life. The sort of life that in no way became in tangled with the likes of a monster like the Black Pearl until, invariably, she comes and ends that life, her conscious void of any piteous thought toward those who are effected by that sinful act. At least, that is what it appeared to be to Commodore Norrington and to his men. They did not realize that the Black Pearl was simply desperate and manned by the wrong man. That is, they did not realize until they were proved wrong in the idea that there are such things as things that return from the dead.…
Now, that was all in the past. Forgotten by most people who would rather not think about cruel, demented, vicious, undead skeleton pirates who cannot be killed. But Commodore James Norrington was never a man to take such events in his life lightly. He took that awful event in his life, that bizarre detour from order and safety, and taught himself important things, some of which no other commodore of His Majesty's Service had the opportunity to discover: that the dead may rise again, that a petty blacksmith can prove himself to be a worthy opponent in love and war, that Jack Sparrow is an absolute idiot but bloody good at slipping through your fingers, but, above all, Commodore Norrington learned that he needed to boost the security of Port Royal by night. Hence, by nightfall, the sentries atop Fort Charles were increased. And on this particular night, two of the soldiers were having a bit of a difficulty staying awake.
Mr. Mullroy was the kind of officer that Commodore Norrington labeled as: bumbling. He and his partner Mr. Murtogg. Mr. Mullroy was a plump fellow who always seemed to have a trace of sleepiness in his eyes. It wasn't his fault, by all means, it was just that his eyes were sunk a bit deep into his skull, and that caused his eyelids to always have a small droop to them. He had dark hair- black, to be precise- and his skin was tanned a bit dark too from his time in the pulsating Caribbean sunlight; but his eyes were the lightest blue- they seemed to have a frosty quality to them which made him appear all the more stupid. It was as if they showed that the inside of his head was filled dominantly with one thing: nothing. That was, of course, ridiculous. He had his moments, even if they were few.
Mr. Murtogg, however, was more unfortunate with brains. He also had his moments, but they were even fewer than Mr. Mullroy's, and when he did have those special times of "smartness," he often had a questioning note to his voice, as if he didn't understand what he was saying and was being brilliant without even really comprehending. Mr. Murtogg was smaller that Mr. Mullroy in general. He was thinner and scrawnier but he also was just plain smaller, making him shorter as well. His hair was brown with a reddish tint to it- auburn I think is the right color. His blank look was seemingly plastered on his face, and it didn't help that he often stuttered when he was truly unsure of himself. Yes, in the Commodore's eyes, these two were absolutely hopeless beyond any of his other men. So they remained together to be stupid together and, sometimes, quite brilliant together.
It had been about an hour of watch and Mr. Mullroy was having difficulty in keeping his heavy eyelids from overpowering his will. His success wasn't that -er- successful, as he soon had his chin resting upon his breast and he was snoring quite peacefully whilst standing (he had gotten lots of practice at that talent).
"Oi!"Mr. Murtogg nudged his partner of watch, Mr. Mullroy, with his elbow to evoke him from his state of slumber.
"What?!" he fumed drowsily, struggling to pry his eyes open. He was having such good dreams- why did his partner have to go and do a stupid thing like waking him up?!
"Come 'ere," Murtogg hissed, making a wide gesture for Mullroy to follow him. He made his way to the end of the fort's parapet, with Mullroy sluggishly dragging his feet to where he stood. Murtogg waited until Mullroy was a few steps behind him, then continued his escapade with pointing out to the harbor. "Look over there."
Mr. Mullroy blinked his sleepiness away (but not his grumpiness) and squinted slightly into the moonlit night, scanning what he thought was the horizon. "What about it?"
"D'you see the ship?"
"What ship?"
"That ship," Murtogg emphasized pointing out into the salty darkness.
"The Black Pearl?"
"No, you're lookin' to close to the harbor- look a little further out to sea. Right…there."
"You mean the one in that load of fog?"
"Yeah."
"What about it?" Mullroy asked nonchalantly. Mr. Murtogg's jaw quivered as he became confused by his comrade's cool composure. In his mind, this was a reason to alert an officer of
higher authority, but in Mr. Mullroy's head there was one word running about that refused to leave his head, regardless of how fishy the circumstances appeared to be: sleep.
"Doesn't it look suspicious to you?"
Mr. Mullroy gave his comrade a dissuading look. He did this often, as he was the leader of the two in wits. "Now, don't be ridiculous. S'just a ship."
"Yes, but…" he cast an uncertain glance at the dark ship at sea, " but the fog and it's big and dark and, and … ghostly lookin'." He turned back to his comrade, all the more confused. " Doesn't that seem a bit odd?"
Mullroy rolled his eyes heavenward then grasped his ally firmly by the shoulders, turning him to face the Port Royal harbor. "Mr. Murtogg, if you'll look directly into that harbor of ours, you'll see a big, ghostly black ship, safely anchored there as well. It's harmless. What makes that one any different?" He felt he had quite proven his point.
"Well- it wasn't always harmless," Murtogg stammered with a timid and uncertain tone in his voice. He spun around and looked his friend firmly in the eye. " And-and you didn't even believe that the Black Pearl existed before!"
"Yes, I did," Mullroy argued angrily. He hated it when Mr. Murtogg insisted that he had once made a stupid mistake in his life. Although quite lethargic, Mr. Mullroy was also rather proud.
"No, you didn't," Murtogg batted back.
"Yes, I did."
"No, you didn't. You said there was no such thing."
"No, what I said," Mullroy began correcting his friend with a superior tone in his voice, "was that I didn't think you saw the Black Pearl."
"But… but to Mr. Sparrow you said that there was no such thing as the Black Pearl."
Mr. Mullroy opened his mouth with a smile to reply then froze with a frown, realizing that his friend indeed was quite right. "Oh, yeah." He scowled and pulled Mr. Murtogg's tri hat down over his eyes. "Shut up."
"See?" Mr. Murtogg batted at him as he slid his hat back on properly. "Now, if you said there was no such thing as the Black Pearl and there is, then why should I believe you when you say that that ship is harmless?" he demanded, readjusting his hat and pointing out to the ship.
"Well-" he cut off when he looked out to sea again. "Hey, where'd it go?"
They hastily scanned the horizon for any sign of the mysterious ship- a shadow, a silhouette or something.
"S'that it?" Mr. Murtogg asked, pointing to a big, ominous-looking black ship.
Mr. Mullroy slapped the back of Mr. Murtogg's head. "That's the Black Pearl you nitwit!"
"Oh.… Oh yeah!"
They were interrupted by a loud but soft (in texture) thud. The soldier who was standing at attention on the opposite end of the parapet fell to floor, limp as rag doll.
"Say, what's wrong with Mr. Dewhurst?" Mr. Murtogg asked, pointing to their fallen brother in arms and looking back at Mr. Mullroy, who just shook his head and shrugged, 'I dunno!' his mouth pressed down in an unmistakeable frown.
After staring at Mr. Dewhurst for a good long while, Mr. Mullroy shook his head in disgust and, deciding to try and find the strange ship again, he began to scan the horizon. He looked and strained his eyesight to the limit, not being able to see anything but darkness. He squinted and squinted until his eyes appeared as two thin lines stretched across his face and he felt a vigorous tapping on his shoulder.
Mr. Murtogg, rigid and pale, pointed at the floor where Mr. Dewhurst was laying- the shadow cast by the fort was moving. Creeping, slowly towards them as if someone had managed to tie a string to its end and stretch it in their direction. Clutching their rifles in an upright position, they backed in unison until they backed into a corner and were unable to move any further, stiff and frightened of this moving … shadow.
Another thud sounded and they looked up to the tower of the fort, where the soldier had also fallen. Their eyes darted back downward. The shadow lurked closer and closer, and they scrunched harder and harder into the corner until the shadow was at their feet. They snapped their eyes shut in anticipation, clutching their rifles in their hands. The shadow reached them, enveloped them, and they fell to the floor with a thud.
Norrington was walking down a street in town with Mr. Gillette, talking quietly and making sure that everyone was getting into their buildings- curfew had begun. They were walking in silent thought for a long time, just keeping to themselves and were totally unaware of the strange happenings taking place at Fort Charles and Governor Swann's mansion
"It must've been quite hard for you, sir," Mr. Gillette suddenly shot out.
"What?" Norrington chuckled, looking at Mr. Gillette a bit befuddled. They hadn't been talking at all and suddenly he blurted out some hogwash sentence.
"Well, the wedding and all.… She looked so… happy…to be with him."
Norrington half-smiled as he cast his gaze ahead of him. "Yes. She did, didn't she?"
"Does it make you angry?"
Norrington stood still and silent for a moment, as he needed as much concentration as possible to think about it. Did it make him angry? Possibly jealous? "…No," he answered and continued to walk. "I'll admit that it is a bit… painful, seeing that he makes her smile in a way that I could never accomplish.… His love is, after all, something special."
Mr. Gillette frowned and looked away from Norrington, slightly guilty for having put him in such a somber mood. He had believed that Miss Swann had indeed fallen for the Commodore after hearing of their engagement. After all, every eligible highborn woman in Port Royal had set their eyes on the dashing commander. He was everything a woman could ask for: intelligent, sophisticated, rich, handsome, highly successful. And yet, the governor's daughter, the highest born woman on the whole of Port Royal, the one woman who could've had any man she desired and the woman that the Commodore had set his heart on, chose … a blacksmith. Oh, in society and rank Mr. Turner couldn't be more opposite than Norrington! A blacksmith?! It didn't make sense to the young Lieutenant. Anything Mister William Turner had, Commodore James Norrington had- some things in twice fold. They were both handsome, both smart, both chivalrous but the Commodore just had more. More money, more class, more knowledge, more success- it just made more sense for Elizabeth Swann to be Mrs. Elizabeth Norrington, not Mrs. Elizabeth Turner.
"I had believed at one time that she was mine. That she had accepted me and would willingly come with me and be with me…but that was only for a fleeting moment.… She loved him from the beginning- I saw it in her eyes and the way she spoke of him. But I was just too stubborn to let it be right away."
They walked in an awkward silence. The conversation was, for Gillette, in itself awkward and the silence made the feeling grow suddenly. Gillette, in attempt to shake the repeating words in his mind, looked around him as he walked, taking in the scenery of this nightly hour when something strange caught his eyes. A line of candles stood steadily burning in front of a pottery shop, until an immense creeping shadow slid toward the tiny torches and put the first one out with a silent hiss. "Commodore."
Gillette grasped Norrington by the soldier and pointed toward the lights. Norrington looked and took note of it, his brow creased in perplexed curiosity as, one by one, the torches sizzled out when enveloped by this dark mass. 'What have we here?'
"What is it?" Gillette asked in a low whisper.
"I don't know." The Commodore was now throwing the shadow a suspicious look. After his experience with the Black Pearl last year he had, indeed, learned to expect the unexpected and suspected the unsuspected. He hadn't become superstitious, oh no! by all means, no! But he hadn't forgotten what had happened when he didn't believe that the pirates were cursed- lives were lost and the battle was almost lost. The only place he had heard of a darkness powerful enough to extinguish all light was in the story of Moses. 'How peculiar….'
The shadow glided in their direction and Norrington suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Something about this mass was undeniably wrong. It sent a chill to the bone. In fact, Norrington couldn't help but note how his breath had turned to something misty- he could see it. But this was the Caribbean. For you to be able to see your breath in a cloudy muster was simply impossible. The last time the commodore could see his breath was when he had gone on holiday for Christmas in Northern England- but that was when he was just a lad, barely four years of age. As he took every breath his lungs seemed to coat in ice. He seemed to feel colder inside than out.
A light crackling sound reached his ears and he looked down to see a puddle, not five feet away from him freezing before his eyes at a rapid pace as the shadow touched its edge. Then he felt the rise of goose bumps upon his arms and legs as a sudden feeling crawled upon his skin: something was watching them. His gaze averted into the darkness. Now that it was so close he could see that it wasn't just a shadow but a wall of darkness, beyond which he could only see the dark shadows and silhouettes of the objects he once could see clearly, regardless of how much he attempted to pierce it with his gaze. Then his blood ran chill as somewhere, from inside his head, a dark chuckle sounded. And there was only one way but many words to describe it: evil. Evil and malicious and nefarious to the point that Commodore Norrington felt the cold chill of fear began to envelope his mind for the first time in his life since he was a young sailor.
It was a strange and new sensation to him, something his body wasn't adept to anymore. It was something he had taught himself to block, to numb himself against it, to feel any other thing but this one emotion, this bane of so many men before him. He had blocked it for so long that his body was not use to it at all. It was unfamiliar and unprecedented- how did he react to this strange feeling? He did not know and his mentality froze and failed him. What to do? Where to go? What was happening? As the shadow approached them closer and closer, the laughter grew louder and fiercer, mirthless and as cold as the radical temperature around them. His eyes were bonded to the inky obscurity that lay before him, his feet glued firmly to the ground.
Gillette's knees buckled beneath him, and he fell to the ground with a harsh clump. This caught Norrington's attention suddenly and he was able to somehow draw his gaze away from the black oblivion and check on his partner in arms, the cackling growing more and more silent, fading. Then, suddenly, out of the clear blue, one word managed to somehow worm its way into the commodore's standstill mind as the shadow stood one foot away from him: run.
He began to shakily backpedal. "Gillette," he couldn't believe how shaky his voice had become- what on earth was the matter with him?
"Sir?"
"Run."
But as Gillette stood and Norrington turned on heel the shadow closed in on them with a sudden burst of robust energy and they crumpled to the floor in two worthless heaps.
The sight was one that was unexpected. There was Will, but he was standing all alone in the center of the drawing room, looking around him with a bewildered expression- Elizabeth's father wasn't anywhere in sight. She felt slightly confused and Will looked into her eyes with the same thoughts reflecting his own.
"She did say, 'the drawing room?'" he asked for a confirmation.
Yes. She said it clear as crystal- 'Your father was murdered in the drawing room.' She nodded. "That's what I heard."
A frustrated expression took hold of Will's face as he turned a circle with his arms outstretched in a presenting posture. "Well, if he was here … the body's gone."
Elizabeth felt a chill run up her spine. That could mean that the murderer was still wandering the house. She quickly made her way to Will's side and buried herself into his shoulder, wrapping her petite arms around his waist as a source of comfort. He lightly placed an arm around her as his eyes still darted to and fro whilst thinking the situation through. Normally, Elizabeth was a brave woman- fiery unlike any other girl that people could meet. But this night she was frightened, timid, and felt very small in a situation that didn't make sense at all, and Will could feel it. He gave her a reassuring squeeze with a small, "It's alright." But, honestly, was it?
'He was murdered in the drawing room.…' This was the drawing room and there was no Governor Swann nor was there any evidence that he had been killed here, no blood. Unless, of course he had been strangled or beaten… but there was no sign of a scuffle either. "Elizabeth?"
"What?" she sounded miserable. And she was. She wanted to go upstairs to her bed, go to sleep and wake up to find out that this all was just an awful joke of Jack's or a ridiculous dream.
"Did Estella tell you exactly how your father was… you know."
"Yes.… She said that he was shot."
Will face contorted in more perplexity than before. That couldn't be. It just couldn't. He would have heard that shot and there would- there should- be blood or some other verification to testify of this heinous act. Perhaps Estella was mistaken? She heard a bang from the kitchen and was overreacting? That had to be it- it was the only explanation. "Estella-" He turned to the doorway to address the person standing there.
But it was just Jack, standing there with his finger up in a position that suggested he had something to say. And he did. "Uh, Will?"
It was then that Will noticed that Jack was far more awkward in voice than was normal for him, and his face gave off the same form of discomfort. His eyebrows were high and knit together in an uncomfortable appearance. He gave Jack a suspicious look. "Jack?"
Jack opened his mouth and took a deep breath, his finger still at shoulder-height. Then he clamped his mouth shut and took a step into the room. He opened his mouth and let his head bob to the side and roll around in exaggerated gestures as he spoke, "I think there's somethin' I oughta tell you." He began to chew the inside of his mouth.
Disbelief began to mix with the mistrust that was riddled in Will's eyes as Elizabeth also began to give him her own stare of incertitude. "Do you have something to do with this, Jack?"
Jack opened his mouth again, readying to speak. A woman's scream suddenly broke through the situation, coming from the streets of the city. Elizabeth broke from her hold of Will and ran to the window, pushing the light drapery aside and opening it with much dexterity.
Jack winced and tried to force a grin through it as Will looked back at him. "I jus' might have a little bit to do with it."
Will felt his face unconsciously began to glare at Jack. He didn't kill the governor, did he? Was he doing something stupid that accidently caused the situation to take a turn?
"Will," Elizabeth's voice was shaky and she turned and gave her husband a frightened glance, "there's something out there."
The lamps and candles that lit the house all abruptly began to flicker, casting strange lights on the walls. Then suddenly a fierce wind blew through the window, sweeping its way throughout the mansion and it was then that all the lights in the large house in unison blew out. Sudden darkness enveloped them and a sudden quiet, except for Will and Elizabeth's quickened breathing, softly breathing… breathing….
Elizabeth gasped as a light appeared before her. It was a small light, like the small yellow flame of a candle, but it glowed as steadily as the sun, a small orb of radiance floating in the air before her startled face.
Then Will let out a small gasp of surprise as one dawned before him. Jack let out a strange squeak as one materialized before him. Then one appeared next to that one and that one had one show up next to the other. They were everywhere, little stars twinkling in the dark, illumining small other stars of a brilliant nature around them. It was no longer frightening, but beautiful and intriguing. There was something alluring about the tiny orbs and even peaceably palliating.
Will looked at his orb carefully. It was just there, levitating. Nothing was holding it up, hanging it down. He studied it carefully as it began to captivate him. The center…there was something there as far as he could see. At first it just looked like it might have been a small flame, but as he studied he couldn't quite make out what it was. Then, somewhere in his mind he began to hear a soft laughter… a child's laughter…. He jumped suddenly as he somehow recognized that laughter… it was his laughter. More voices began to echo softly in the back of his head, steadily growing louder and more clear.
'William Turner, you come back here with that, young man!' It was a man's voice.
The child's giggling persisted. 'No!' There was the soft sound of a child's feet pattering on a wood surface as the child gave a bubbly laugh of delight. They were playing a game.
'Will!'
Suddenly the scene began to materialize before his eyes. A room of a simple English cottage appeared before him and a man, tall with dark chocolate colored hair and sparkling brown eyes. Will felt his heart jump suddenly- his father.
The man, who looked remarkably like Will, laughed merrily as a small boy with the same dark tresses sprouting from his tiny head ran and hid behind a rocking chair that was placed in a corner near the fireplace. His laugh held a soul-warming quality to it for Will and he felt himself grin as he saw himself, a boy of three years in age, giggle again, hiding behind the chair as if he were behind prison bars.
'You can't find me!'
The man put a finger to his chin and plastered an overly-thoughtful expression on his countenance- much like Jack. 'You're right- I can't!'
The boy tittered once more. 'You're lookin' the wrong way!'
The man spun around and laid his eyes on his child, giving him a disapproving look. He bent low and beckoned to the boy with his finger.
The boy shook his head vigorously, stifling a snicker.
'You get over here, William Turner, and bring back that compass or you're going to get a good smacking to that bottom of yours.' He began to take small steps towards the child.
Again, the lad shook his head vigorously. He let his hands let go of the bars that formed the chair's back and grabbed hold of the navigational tool that had been hung on his tiny wrist with a strip of leather, clutching it firmly in his miniature hands with his young, innocent eyes agleam.
The man by now stood only a few steps from the rocking chair. He stopped and for one time more beckoned the tot to come to him. But only to receive the same giggly response.
The man put his hands on his knees and placed his weight on them, giving the impression that he had had enough. 'Alright,' he sighed. 'I give up.' He stood and, after a good stretch, let himself fall heavily into the chair. 'I think I'll take a nap- I'm worn out after that!'
The boy, behind the chair, sat there, waiting and listening quietly as his father began to snore softly. Taking careful steps, he made his way around to the front of the chair. He looked carefully at his father, up and down several times. He crept closer to the sleeping figure and poked his thigh with his fragile finger, waiting to see what happened. After a few short seconds, the babe confirmed in his infantile, undefiled mind that the man was indeed asleep and turned and began to walk away.
'Ah-ha!' the man jumped to life and grabbed the child from behind, who shrieked, squirmed and laughed with simple delight. The man brought the wriggling child to his lap and, after managing to pry the black compass from the boy's hands and pocketing it, he lifted the lad's tiny white shirt, brought his wee little round belly to his lips and blew.
The boy erupted in laughter, his face twisted in his pure bliss. 'No! No, Papa! Stop!' He grabbed his father's face and held if firmly in his tiny grasp. The man stopped and looked his boy in the eyes. 'No,' the little one repeated firmly.
The man grinned maliciously and once again pressed his lips upon his boy's tummy and blew as the boy again broke out in musical guffaws.
As this ticklish torture resumed, the youngster's laughter coming in waves of relish, Will's eye beheld a woman appear at the doorway in the background. She was a beautiful woman, her figure pleasing to the eye and her shimmering green eyes warm with affection as she looked upon the monkeying duo. And as Will looked at her a warmth tingled in his soul. It was his mother.
Her soft presence was unmistakable. Memories began to flood to him of once upon a time ago. Beloved memories of gentle hands, sweet kisses and a soft voice; of open arms when hurt befell him or fear captured him; of good food, warm blankets and enchanting stories on rainy days and stormy nights; of a home where he belonged to someone who loved him in a way that was different from Elizabeth; and his heart ached. Those days were few, for his mother's days were cut short… by the cruelty of pirates.
Her gaze averted to Will and he jumped as she locked eyes with him. She could see him! A sudden longing took hold of his heart. It had been so long since he had seen his mother. Her face was a memory that he had barely managed to hold onto in the back of his mind as he grew up, slipping away as the years went by the way water dripped through his cupped fingers. But she was here, standing before him. His mother.… Unconsciously, his hand rose and began to reach for her cheek- to touch her. She was so close. After all these years, when death had been put between them he could feel her loving touch again. His shaky fingers came closer to her loving face, mere inches stood between them. He thrust his hand out.
With a rush of wind the image was swept away and Will snapped out of what he felt like was a dream. He threw a confused look at Elizabeth, who cocked her head in bemusement. What had happened? The orbs of light were gone, but now a dancing pattern of light began to play on the mansion walls: the reflection of water. Jack looked around him but was surprised to find no liquid nor a light source. Then shadows began to dance about the walls on top of this watery canvas. Hundreds of shadows of people walking, talking, sitting in the shadows of the chairs. They were moving extremely quickly, as if the history of this room was being played out before their eyes at a breakneck speed until, finally, Will recognized his, Jack's and Elizabeth's shadows standing as they were now. Then all went black. Elizabeth gasped as she became frightened again.
The room was completely void of any light for one minute. One minute that seemed hours to Elizabeth. She was frightened. She couldn't even see the moon outside. It was pitch dark. The sort of dark that you only know in your nightmares and can't escape it, and she felt alone. Like she was the only existing being in the entire world. She hated the feeling. She loathed it with a passion and wished for it to leave, and she knew one person who could make it all disappear in an instant. "Will?" her voice cracked softly.
There was no reply. She became confused again. Why wasn't Will answering her? He always stood by her side, he always was there for her and if she felt the necessity to be reassured of his presence, he never opposed to it before. What was wrong?
The lights flickered on and she received her answer: he wasn't there. Jack stood in the doorway, looking just as bemused as she had felt… but Will was gone. The thought began to sink into her. Will was gone. She looked about her, casting her eyes about the room. "Will?" she called more strongly. There was no answer. "Will, where are you?"
She began to panic. If Will was gone, she wouldn't have anybody. No one. He was everything to her. She had made that clear to him many times before, so he couldn't have run away. But she didn't hear a scuffle while in the dark. 'No….'
A small breeze ruffled the curtains as it passed through the window, seizing her attention. She swiftly made her way to it, praying to find Will outside declaring something like, 'I'm off to find your father- and don't even think about following me!' but she didn't. A great shadow approached the window- a wall of darkness- and the last thing Elizabeth could recall was feeling immensely cold and frightened and the last she thing she could remember seeing was the moon, before it went entirely black.
'What are you doing?'
Will jumped and spun around at the voice. He hadn't even realized someone had walked into the shop, he was so lost in his work… but someone had. And it wasn't just anyone, he realized as his heart skipped a beat and his face went hot- it was Elizabeth Swann.
She giggled at his reaction. His eyebrows had shot sky-high, and his mouth began to frantically move in search of words but eventually he realized he couldn't find any and just gave a timid smile. He simply stared at her for quite a while, his eyes wide, as eager and innocent as a child and his fingers fiddling with his hammer nervously. Will was one who tended to fidget, Elizabeth had noted.
'Well? Are you going to leave me in the dark or are you going to explain to me exactly what you're doing?'
He blinked as he began to understand what the melodious sounds leaving her lips were. 'Oh! Oh, yes. Well, uh…' he gave an awkward laugh as he looked back at his work. 'I-I was making a sword but, uh, it appears as if that didn't exactly work out.…'
She gave him a bemused look as she took graceful steps down the little stairs that allowed her into his forge. 'Why, what happened?'
He gave another awkward laugh and exchanged his hammer for the blade he had been molding into something of his liking. He seemed hesitant- she seemed expectant. After a moment's struggle he looked up at her and gave a twitchy half-smile. 'When, uh… when you walked in I stopped folding the steel and I let it… the blade is pretty much ruined,' he summed simply seeing her uncomprehending visage.
She frowned and looked sympathetic. 'Oh, I'm sorry! Did I make you do that?'
'No! No, not at all Miss Swann.… Well, technically, yes. I'm not going to lie, but in a way it was my fault. I don't react the same way to … uh, women of the gentry as I do to the gentlemen.… The ladies usually never come here.… In fact, you're the first. You just caught me off my guard, Miss Swann.'
Elizabeth couldn't help but grin a tight-lipped grin at his stuttery nature. He was so fidgety, so jumpy, so … tense, and she knew very well that he didn't act this way around her father. She had seen some of their conversations in secret (she usually wasn't one the eavesdrop, but sometimes she couldn't help herself). Around other gentlemen he was cool, casual but when she tried to speak to him he changed. She supposed he became nervous around women. It was almost … cute. But maybe it was just her.
She didn't know why, but ever since she was some seventeen years old, Elizabeth, for some odd reason, had found Mr. Turner somewhat… attractive. She tried to force herself to put these thoughts to shame, telling herself that it was just a silly infatuation and, in truth, it was. Or, at least, that's what it used to be. For the thoughts never left, but grew and transformed. So she locked them up, hoping that they would one day disappear. But they only changed more fleetingly.
He looked at her, blinking rapidly (another nervous habit of his), before he set his gaze at the floor. 'What…' he gave a sigh, 'what are you doing here, Miss Swann?'
'Hm? Oh! Come here,' she lead him to a nearby table and laid out a rolled up piece of parchment she had been clutching in her hand. 'Now-' she stopped abruptly to see Will standing some three feet behind her. 'Come here,' she pressed.
He jumped a bit and then closed up the gap, attempting to peek over her petite shoulder at the designs which were drawn onto the paper- but she was distracting and became a bit more interested in the shape of her face and how soft her hair and skin looked. This was the closest he was ever going to be able to get to her and he could feel temptation arise- to touch her. Meanwhile, Elizabeth silently shivered a bit at the feel of his breath upon the back of her neck- but not from disgust. Rather, it was something quite opposite in feeling.
'Now,' she cleared her throat and changed the tone of her voice back to her business-like tone. 'Father had these designs drawn out for a sword he wants done by next Tuesday. He said he wanted something along these lines, but if Mr. Brown have any better ideas then he said to go with his instincts. He also said he wants it to be his best work- it's for Captain Norrington's promotion ceremony. Can you two handle it?'
She waited for a moment and became a bit angry when there was no reply. 'Will?'
Again, no answer. She spun around abruptly and the blacksmith stumbled backwards, his eyes wide with shock. She stifled a laugh that had oh-so-dearly wished to escape, managing to maintain her staid composure. 'William Turner, did you hear a word of what I said?'
He looked at her, dazed for a moment and then blinked. He spoke suddenly and rapidly. 'Oh, yes, Miss Swann. Next Tuesday… Captain Norrington… my best work,' he blushed crimson at his stupid stammering and bent his head in utter embarrassment.
Elizabeth laughed. She couldn't help it. He was so timid that it was almost pathetic. 'Yes, Will. Very good.' She patted his head as a joke and continued to giggle as she readjusted her hat and then made her way swiftly to the door.
'Miss Swann?' Will called after her, and she jumped a bit internally. She bit the inside of her bottom lip and, regaining her composure, turned gracefully around to meet his shy gaze.
'Yes, Will?'
He appeared hesitant at first, but, in the end, managed to get the words out. 'You… look very lovely today, Miss Swann."
She couldn't help but grin and even blush a bit. It felt good to hear him compliment her in such a manner, even if she knew he probably didn't mean it. That thought saddened her slightly. Propriety was never something she favored. She could see the bashfulness in his face but knew very well he was probably just trying his best to be polite. But still, she walked towards him and, gently leaning forward, she planted a soft and chaste kiss on his warm and sweaty cheek. 'Call me, Elizabeth,' she whispered gently before turning on heel and in a flurry of skirt was gone, leaving him with an wide-eyed earnest expression upon his countenance that she couldn't quite read and a burning in his soul.
It was high noon. Something brushed her cheek and Elizabeth, opening her eyes slowly, found that she wasn't looking at her bedroom ceiling. She wasn't even in her bed. She was on the floor in the parlor next to the windows, which were open, streaming happy sunlight, blowing the drapes about lightly and the songs of birds in the trees. The drapes must've brushed her face. She sat up, realizing her back and neck ached quite a bit. She looked about her and saw Jack laying on the couch with his feet propped up on the arm of one end, his hat slid down over his eyes and his hand being waved back and forth in time as he sang to himself.
"We're devils and black sheep and really bad eggs. Drink up, me hearties! Yo ho!…"
She was confused. Why had she been asleep on the parlor floor? She glanced at Jack, who had just finished the chorus and was making his way into the next verse. What was Jack doing in her home? Her neck gave an awful throb and she hissed in pain as she reached up and touched the back of her neck. She jumped when she fell a small bit of cold metal touch her skin. She looked at her left hand and saw a silver ring with gold filigree engravings that wrapped itself around her finger. A ring?…The memories of yesterday came flooding back into her mind. The wedding… and then, her father…and the lights and…her heart jumped into her throat. 'Will.'
She jumped to her feet, ignoring the aches they screamed of in protest, and ran throughout the house, checking each and every room. Opening this door and running her eyes over the main details of the room. Nothing. Well, what about this room? No, nor was he there. The possibility that maybe he was trying to be heroic and find the murderer was throbbing in her mind. That was the only explanation that made sense to her- it had to be it. She ran to the kitchen, the dining room, her father's study, the library, upstairs she went and looked into the bed rooms, the guest rooms and as she did so, she found the servants, going about their everyday business and her frantic nature was causing her to receive some odd looks from a good many of them. But she did not see them. And even if she did take the time to notice, she would not have cared. In her mind she was formulating a plan as she went, deciding in advance what she was to do should he not be in her home whilst frantically flying from room to room, looking for Will. And with every room that lacked her husband's presence, a little hope left her.
Leaving the final guest room, she turned to face the last room in the house. It was their bedroom. Will had chosen it, as he wanted a room that was away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of house and it was Elizabeth's bedroom. She had chosen it for a bedroom as a little girl the very same reason. A little bit of hope sprung in her at this thought- like a light at the end of a dark, gruesome tunnel. It was their bedroom. Why hadn't she come straight here? After all, maybe he decided to retire for the evening? 'And if he did, he's going to get a hiding like none other for not taking me with him! Leaving me on the floor- of all places!' .… Or maybe someone else found him in an immobile position and brought him there? The pit of her stomach dropped out. 'Oh, please no.…' She didn't want to think what may have placed him in such a condition.
She stared at the door for a long time, just staring blankly. Then she began to move towards it, slowly taking step by step down the hallway, hoping a good result may lie in wait behind the door, dreading what it could be. The door seemed to refuse to get closer. Every step she took didn't seem to make much a difference in how far away it was. She set her gaze downward, forcing herself to watch the floor as she made her way towards her fate. Butterflies began to flutter in her belly, stronger and stronger with each and every gentle footfall. She was going as slow as possible. She gave a snort as she thought of this- she must be quite a show. It felt like when she was a child again, going to her father's study to receive a punishment for some mischievous deed. She remembered those days very clearly. Will would come over and play and she would get the two of them in trouble, where as, if they had just listened to him.… Her stomach clenched. She shouldn't let such thoughts fill her head. They surrounded her husband.
She jumped when she softly bumped into the door- it had been a bit closer than she thought. She took a quick glance around to justify no one was looking. She didn't know why, she wasn't doing wrong of a secretive nature.…
She turned her gaze back on her doorknob and, for a while, that was all she could bear. Somehow that thing, that ball of brass and iron seemed so ominous. It would take her to the room, and she would discover whether or not Will lay in wait. She reached a shaky hand towards it and almost immediately drew it back. She took a deep breath. 'It's okay,' she told herself. 'If he isn't there, then it's not the end of the world. Remember, he could very well be in town looking for your father. All won't be lost.…' And with that, she took a few more deep and steady breaths before raising her hand, taking a firm grip of the cool metal and giving it a turn.
With a gentle click and the softest creak, the door steadily swung open to reveal her bedroom, bathed in sunlight. A soft wind teased her curtains a bit and ruffled the four posters of her bed… which was empty. She glanced about the room, hoping he might have just risen from his slumber, but to no avail.
She wandered to her wedding bed and sat upon its edge, not quite sure how to respond to this. Regardless of what she had told herself, she felt helpless and alone, and a lump in her throat formed as she spoke his name in a soft, cracked voice, "Will.…" Her throat began to ache from holding it back and she allowed herself to tip to the side and fall into the soft pillows- but their cushiness was not welcoming. He was gone, her father was gone and now she was alone, without those she loved most. She yearned for someone to be there, to wrap their arms around her and whisper it was alright. Strong arms. Those arms that had done so so many times before, those arms that bore those wonderful hands, callused though they were. The hands that would brush her wayward tresses out of her eyes, cup her face in themselves and allow their possessor to kiss the tears away. And those eyes. Those warm, loving eyes that somehow always felt safe to look upon.…No, he couldn't be gone. This had to be some awful nightmare or life appeared over in her sudden blinding despair. 'Will.…'
She let a small sob to slip through her lips. No matter how much she wished to stifle those tears, to bury them away they began to slip beyond her control, pressuring harder and harder the more she willed against it. 'Will.…' Oh! She could see his face! His familiar loving, smiling features: his soft beaming lips, his immensely profound eyes- 'Please no!' She lost all control in that instant and everything came surging out, as if to leave her at once. Acid tears soaked and stung her sensitive cheeks and her throat felt wretched from attempting to quiet her bawls. She grabbed one of her pillows and clutched it close to her body, burying her face in its spongy depths, attempting to muffle her wails. She felt like a child who had just lost her family. She didn't know where to go or what to do. She felt lost. And she continued to weep.… Where would she go? What would she do? She had only been his for a matter of hours and actually had been able to be in his company for one short moment before everything became wrong. Everything was wrong and she hated it. She couldn't stop it. She was helpless.... More tears flooded out onto her pillow.
'Get a hold of yourself!' A voice abruptly scolded from somewhere in her head. Just as suddenly as that voice had come, her tears ceased as she began to let it scold her severely. 'Yes, Will's not in the mansion. His missing from the mansion. So what? He could be at his forge, or at the docks, or at the market or discussing something with Commodore Norrington. Just because he isn't home doesn't mean he's completely missing. And, even if he were missing, you're acting upon it in an exhaustively pathetic manner! When you disappeared Will didn't run to his forge, curl up next to a pillow and cry when you were taken away-' she let out a small laugh at the image that appeared in her head as a result of that thought '-he got up and did something! He went after you, even when the world rose up against him and told him to let it be. He didn't let it just pass by…. You have to at least get help- there's no way you're the only person alive on this island and there's no way you can't get assistance. You have a job to do. You're also the governor's daughter and your father has disappeared. Get up.'
Elizabeth sat, silent and still for a long moment. This was all too true. She needed to get help. The governor was missing- and what happened last night was a strange and unusual situation. She needed to report it immediately. She stood and wiped the last remaining tears from her eyes. She would be strong.
She walked out into the hallway and looked down it anxiously. She listened for movement of any sort.… Nothing. She took a deep breath and stepped out into the hallway. There was a loud creak and she jumped from surprise . She held very still, looking for movement.…Again, nothing. She frowned and continued to walk. There was another creak. She stopped. After thinking things through, she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet and discovered that the creak intensified every time she changed direction. She sighed with relief, cursing herself for being so easily frightened. She had forgotten that the floor creaked there. She continued down the hallway, feeling quite stupid.
Elizabeth eventually came near the staircase, and made ready to turn and descend- she had a bone or two to pick with Jack Sparrow- when she noticed that Estella laid face-down on the floor of a room that she was passing. Now, wasn't that odd? Estella was never one to fall asleep on the job in the first place, but in the middle of the floor? She decided to go and check it out.
She swiftly made her way to Estella's side, kneeling, and she reached out and grasped her shoulder, turning her over as gently as she could. "Estella?"
Estella's face was stiffly immobile for a frustrating moment, then her eyes managed to flutter open. She sat up hastily upon sight of Elizabeth with a bashful grin on her face as she smoothed her hair and adjusted her bonnet, "Oh, I beg your pardon, milady! Must have dozed off there!"
At first Elizabeth was in shock and she wasn't exactly sure what to think of the situation., but then immense relief came over her and she threw her arms around Estella, who went rigid from surprise. "Oh, Estella, I'm so happy to see you!"
"Oh! Well, I'm happy to see you to, miss," Estella replied with a bit of confusion written on her face.
Elizabeth clutched to Estella the way she did to her mother when she was a little child, coming home from what she thought was an awful adventure. Estella could hep so much- she was the one who had come t notify her of her father's death. She pulled away from Estella and looked at her firmly and quite seriously. "Estella," her tone was low and also quite sedated, "I need you to tell me everything that you know about what happened to my father last night. Did you see the murderer?"
"Good heavens, miss! What ever do you mean?"
Elizabeth's face twitched into confusion. "What do you mean, 'What do you mean?' Last night, the murder and my father.…"
Estella gave Elizabeth a worried look. "Beggin' your pardon, miss- ma'am, but I haven't a clue on what you're talkin' about. The last thing I remember was seein' you and your Mr. Turner headin' to your quarters," she blushed a light shade of pink. "Must've fallen asleep from havin' too much wine."
Elizabeth sat there in thought. What did she mean? Estella didn't black out that quickly- she remembered very well, without a shadow of a doubt that Estella had come to her bedroom door, quite conscious, mind you, to inform Will and her of the horrible news. If Estella didn't remember all of that, then something must be quite wrong with her. "Milady?"
Elizabeth snapped back and looked at Estella's anxious face, expectantly.
"Are you alright, milady?"
Elizabeth looked at Estella for a long moment before deciding the play a part and get out of this mess. Estella was of no use to her in the end. "Oh, yes, Estella. I'm sorry- I drank quite a bit of wine as well and am beginning to think there was something wrong with it. Please excuse me for my strange behavior. I'm going to talk to dear Mrs. Bosworth to see if there's something wrong with the drinks. Excuse me."
"Yes, ma'am," Estella uttered with a bit of an astonished tone to her voice and wide eyes as
Elizabeth stood and walked briskly out of the room.
This was odd. Was it possible that Elizabeth had dreamed up the whole thing and had simply sleep-walked down to the drawing room? Perhaps, but that didn't explain Will not taking the care of returning her to her bed in the morning, at least. And she hadn't seen her father all day. Did he go to the fort? She was forced abruptly out of her reverie when she ran recklessly into someone. She really needed to stop doing that. "Jack!" she cursed him allowed. "Don't do that!"
"'ey, don' place the blame on me, luv, I was actually watchin' where I was goin'," Jack replied coolly whilst gesturing to himself elaborately.
"Then why didn't you move?!"
"'cause you came on me from behind, luv."
She looked at him, frustrated for a moment.
"'ey, what'd I do?"
"Nothing," she sighed as she began to rub her head. There was a long moment of silence in which Elizabeth began turning things over in her head. Stress. She began to feel hopelessly stressed and tears began to rim her sparkling eyes.
"You alrigh', 'lizabeth?" Jack asked, with a sudden softness that surprised Elizabeth. She looked up at him to see a gentleness behind those usually foggy orbs of his.
"What?"
"I said, 'You alrigh', 'lizabeth?'" he repeated, a bit vexed- which was unusual for Jack as well. "I jus' though' tha' after las' nigh' you'd be a bit traumatized, yeh know?"
She gaped openly at him. So it wasn't a dream! It had happened! "Jack, come with me," Elizabeth hissed and lead him down the mansion stairs and hurriedly out the front door. After the shutting the door behind her with a quiet snap, she turned and grasped Jack firmly by the shoulders with her slender hands, her voice a bit desperate. "Listen, Jack- Will's gone."
Jack looked at her a dully at first, then his face split into a wide smile and he let out a long, bubbly laugh.
Elizabeth glared at him. "What are you laughing at?"
"S'funny, 'cause I though' you said that Will's gone," he stated simply then let out another long laugh.
Elizabeth slapped him smartly. "Stop that!"
"Hey, I did not deserve that!"
She slapped him again. "Listen to me!… Something happened last night-"
"I know, luv,"Jack interrupt coolly placing a very rough and tanned hand atop her delicate lips. "Jus' though' it funny 'ow you would inform of tha' if I already knew. S'not like it wasn't obvious."
"So… so you saw all of it, didn't you?"
"All of wha'?"
"The lights and the shadows and… wait, you didn't see that little spectacle, did you?"
Jack stretched his lips tight into a thin line and shrugged. "Depends on which one tha' would be, ay?"
"It's the one…" Elizabeth blushed a bit. "The one of me and Will… one year ago."
Jack arched an eyebrow and looked at her funny. "M'sorry, luv, but I haven' a clue what you're
talkin' 'bou'."
Elizabeth sighed with relief at first, but then she looked back at Jack with her look of bewilderment. "Wait, you didn't see that little vision? It was of me and Will .…" She looked at him with her eyebrows raised as she waited for Jack to jump and go , 'Oh, yeah! Tha' spectacle! I remember- rum must've gotten to me head.'
But he didn't. He just looked at her as if she was mad. "Sorry, luv, but the only vision I remember seein' las' nigh'- besides yer lovely face, o' course-" she shot him a glare "- was a vision o' the firs' time I sailed the Pearl." He heaved a dreamy sigh as he gazed out into space. "Aye, I remember it like t'was yesterday-"
"Jack!"
"Sorry. I'm bloody shuttin' up."
She cleared her throat slightly and then changed the tone of her voice to something much more business like. "So, lets get this all straightened out. You came into the drawing room and saw Will and I but no governor, correct?"
"Aye."
"You wanted to tell us something-"
"Aye."
"But then the lights went out and these strange glowing lights appeared out of nowhere-"
"Aye."
"You looked into the orb-"
"Aye."
"And you saw me and Will."
Jack opened his mouth in a smile and then clamped it shut and shook his head. "No."
She threw him a bemused expression.
"I already told you, I saw the firs' time I sailed the Pearl."
Her confusion deepened. "Wait… was it something that had really happened to you? Like a memory?"
"Aye, tha' t'was, luv. An' a mighty fine one, at that," Jack sighed, a look of wistfulness reflecting in his black, kohl-lined eyes.
It began to make some sense. What Elizabeth had witnessed was a memory as well- it had really happened, only she was watching it from the point of view of another person. It was a strange feeling.… "So… so, do you think that what we all saw when we looked into those light things was all different and a memory?"
"That sounds 'bou' right," Jack agreed casually.
"Hm… that's odd.… But anyways," she had decided to continue with the evening's events- they weren't getting anywhere if they argued over those accursed things- they weren't even sure of what they were, "when the memory was in the middle of its… presentation, it suddenly was swept away, right?"
"Too true."
"And then the strange lights on the walls with the shadows came, everything went black, the lights came on-"
"An' Will was gone without a trace," Jack finished for her. "Oh yes, darlin'. I saw t'all. M'afraid that t'was all too real for either of our likin's."
She flinched at how he put it. It was true. She had been hoping upon hope that it would all have been a horrible nightmare, but… "Jack," she began thoughtfully, "you wanted to tell us something before the lights had gone out.… Could you tell me now?"
Jack looked at her, doubtfully for a moment and Elizabeth found this look odd. It was as if he was sizing her up or something- deciding if she was worthy to hear what he was about to say. He stared at her in this manner for a long time, his eyes squinted with a strange air of suspicion until she felt like squirming from the discomfort his gaze was beginning to cause. "Alrigh'," he finally stated slowly, not losing that suspicious look. "Bu' you'll have to keep quiet an' not speak until I'm done and you mus' especially not inform anyone 'bout what you're 'bout to hear, savvy?"
She nodded earnestly. Suddenly, a bit of the child in her began to spark back to life- the part of her that had that ridiculous sense of adventure that had sprung inside of her as she secretly turned up her lamp and read deep into the night about one of the most fascinating things she could get her young mind on: pirates. But these stories were about good pirates verses the bad. Pirates like Blackheart fighting against pirates that were like the famous Calico Jack Rackman. Pirates like Barbossa fighting against pirates like Will Turner and Jack Sparrow. The pirates Elizabeth had known as a young child were dashing swashbucklers, who fought against the pillagers and plunderers and only broke the laws when they were wrong or for the sake of love and friendship. Her pirates were heroes. The stories were adventures, where the good captain would sword fight wicked fights with the evil pirate, pulling incredibly skillful tricks like climbing up into the rigging and fighting on the spars. They were love stories, where a beautiful girl was taken away and her lover would come after. They were mysteries full of questions: "Why didn't that man die?" "Where did the ship sink and how?" "Where did that pirate ship come from?" But the best ones were the ghost stories....
She had lost her taste for such stories a long time ago, when she had had her dreams shattered by the truth behind pirates. Her governess had given her a book on pirates when she had discovered her deep love for them and their adventures: but this book wasn't a child's storybook. It was a history books, filled with facts on the reality of pirates. They were murderers, rapists, kidnapers, thieves, liars… the only pirates that truly existed were the evil pirates from her stories- her heroes had never existed. And it didn't help that a few years later, she had to experience this evil side to her childhood idols.
"You'll wanna sit down, luv," Jack commented lightly, "S'a long story." They sat on the front steps of her home and Jack began to tell his tale. "Well, I s'pose it happened 'bout six months ago-"
"Oh, Jack?" Elizabeth quickly cut in. Jack threw her a look of utmost vexation at being interrupted so cruelly. She smiled timidly. "Sorry, it's just, could you… stick to the truth? Please? I don't want you to try and impress me with one of your silly adventures, I just want to know what happened to Will."
He looked at her in an angrily thoughtful manner, chewing the inside of his cheek softly. He wasn't thrilled with the suggestion, Elizabeth could see it in his eyes. So she batted her eye lashes, pouted her rosy lips and made those jewels for some eyes really sparkle with earnest pleading. "Please Jack?"
His eyebrows couldn't possibly have gotten any lower. He threw her a grudging look, chewing harder on his cheek and crossing his arms firmly across his chest. They stared at each other with their individual and unique gazes, both determined to break the other. Man verses Woman, who's will would prevail? Finally, Elizabeth knitted her eyebrows into the saddest expression she could manage and Jack rolled his eyes heavenward. "Oh, alrigh'- but as long as I get to tell you my version later, savvy? S'much more interesting."
She grinned. "I promise."
"Alrigh'." He cleared his throat as he faced forward and leaned his forearms on his knees. "Like I said, I s'pose it happened 'bout six months ago… actually, no. Tha's a lie. In truth, it began almos' the instant I set foot on the Black Pearl, righ' after yer William had almos' managed to save me own skin. I get on the Pearl an' me crew gives me command of 'er once again withou' a fuss! Wonderful bunch, really. So we sail back to Isla de Muerte, grab some booty an' then make our merry way to Tortuga to 'ave a drink or two… or… ten."
Elizabeth gave him a stern look, but he ignored it. By now he was facing her and making elaborate hand gestures as he spoke.
"Anyways, we get to Tortuga an' I'm lookin' at Anamaria an' I get thinkin', 'Yeh know, I still owe tha' girl a boat. After all, she gave me back the Pearl.' Now, bein' the great cap'n tha' I am, what do I do? I take me earnin's and I go and buy the lass a sturdy new fishin' boat."
"The boat you stole," Elizabeth pointed out.
"Hm? Ah, yes! The boat I stole."
"Why did you steal her boat, Jack?"
"I'm gettin' to tha', luv. Jus' be patient- yeh promised yeh wouldn' interrupt an' here yeh are doin' it anyway!"
"Sorry."
Jack smirked. "Yeah.… So, I buy Anamaria a new fishin' boat. We drink an' be merry, but our pockets aren't exactly bottomless. So after a few days and nights, the crew rendezvouses at the Pearl an' we plan to go back to Isla de Muerte. We get there, but as we pull into the ship graveyards, we see two other ships anchored in front of our cave entrance." Elizabeth resisted the strong urge to ask a question at this remark. " Now, we fin' that a bit bloody odd because we are the only ones who know where the isle is in the firs' place. So I take out me spyglass an' as I look at said ships, I fin' out somethin' quite interestin': I sunk one o' those ships eleven years ago."
Elizabeth again tried to resist commenting or questioning Jack, but the urge was too strong this time. "What was the ship called?"
"She was called the 'Abyss' an' she was a beauty. But I couldn' allow her to be roamin' the Caribbean."
"Why not?"
Jack sighed. "You're forcin' me to digress here, but I guess s'sort of important tha' you know this." He scratched the back of his head and then stretched his arms and back before he recommenced.
"Will isn't the firs' one in the Turner line to be gifted with his hands, yeh know. I knew his father, Bill Turner, since we were li'l children."
Elizabeth's face split into a wide grin. "You did?"
"Yes, now shut up."
She glared coldly at him.
"Anyways, one of the reasons that the Black Pearl is so dear to me is because she's…well, a lot more special than you could know.… Bill was a carpenter. A ship builder and architect to be precise- an' a damn good one at tha'. He designed some of the fastest, strongest ships that the Royal Navy had seen in 'er day."
"Like what? I should know some of them."
Jack gave her a sly grin. "Like the Columbus, the Expedition, … the Dauntless."
"What?!" a happily disbelieving look spread on her face. "He made the Dauntless?"
"Designed it. He designed it, darlin'. An' yes. The H.M.S. Dauntless, current pride of the Royal Navy is, indeed, a Turner craft."
Elizabeth was almost giggling with delight at this strange new revelation. It was such a strange coincidence- a ship that Will's father had envisioned was the same ship that saved his son from the sea and became the scene where he met his future wife. How peculiar!
"Now," Jack pulled her from her quiet thoughts, "I'm gonna cut the story short since we need to get goin' to find said Turner's boy.… Eventually, Bill designed for me the Black Pearl. Why? Well, we both wanted to get out of that crack in England an' bein' so close to the sea, we eventually jus' couldn' resist her seductive call anymore. So we earned enough money to fund her construction, ran away to Spain an' hired some men to build her there. This is the part tha' we made a big mistake."
Jack shook his head mournfully. "Them Spanish sailors, they've been wantin' to take over England's reign of power of the sea for years an' years. When they saw the Pearl, they figured that they should build a whole fleet of copies. Bill an' I were 'gainst that- the Pearl was to remain ours, only ours, an' one of a kind. Tha's why we named it the Black Pearl, she's one of her own. So, after we gave 'em their money, we packed up and sailed away on the Pearl never to see 'em again.…But we forgot one very important thing.…"
"That you're Captain Jack Sparrow?" Elizabeth joked.
"No," Jack shook his head solemnly. "Somethin' much more important than that, luv: the Pearl's building plans. By the time we realized they were missin', we returned to find tha' they had a ship under construction tha' was already near enough to completion tha' they didn't need the plans anymore. So we came an' took 'em, burnt 'em, but they had already nearly finished this new ship- a modified version of the Pearl, if you will. They called 'er El Abismo or, translated o' course,-"
"The Abyss."
"Tha's right. So, to cut it short as I promised: after she had set sail, she began to wreck havoc on English settlements in the Caribbean. No Navy ship was a match for her- either they were strong enough but too slow or fast enough but too weak. So we tracked her down an' after a big battle- thanks to Bill's ship savvy-, we sunk her and began our reputations as true pirates of the Caribbean."
"So, wait… you sunk the Abyss because you didn't want a second Black Pearl in the Caribbean?"
"Tha's right."
"Why not?"
"I already told you: Bill an' I wanted the Black Pearl to be one of a kind an' special…. The kind of ship that he could pass down to his son when the time came."
There was a silence as Elizabeth looked at Jack with an unreadable expression. She was studying him. He was speaking now with the same air about him that he had used when she was marooned with him on their little island for a day. It was an air of respect and love, and Elizabeth could see the fire of it burning in his eyes. "Bill…" he spoke more carefully now, his words less slurred, " he wasn't a pirate because he wanted the money, 'lizabeth. He wasn't a pirate because he needed to feel the wild rush of adventure when two ships collide or when you sack a town- he was a pirate because he needed to feel the wind on his face and taste the salt of the sea.… Bootstrap Bill Turner was a family man, an' everyone who knew 'im knew that. M'not sure if Will remembers him much, but he loved Will and Will's mother more than anythin'. An' he wanted more than anythin' for Will to one day stand at his side at the Pearl's helm, sharin' the love he had for the freedom an ocean can give you.… The ship was meant to be a place of refuge for the Turner line, but Bill gave it to me since I didn' have a family- a home.… She's my home.…"
He was silent as he shifted his weight. "Bein' a pirate, you don' really have a home, yeh know? You sail from Portugal to the Philipines to Singapore to Brazil- yer never in one place for too long. Tha's why we don' have homes. But it's only human to want to have one- to belong somewhere. Bill did, Will does an' now, thanks to the both of them, I do.… I owe 'em. I owe 'em both.…"
They were silent for another long moment as they began to think these last few words over. A home….
"Jack," Elizabeth spoke. "What happened after you reached Isla de Muerte?"
"Hm? Oh, right! I forgot 'bout that! Well, we find out that the ship is indeed the Abyss, the other we can' see but don' care 'bout since s'much smaller and more run down. S'not important. Anyways, we debate whether or not to attack it, but s'night time an' yeh know Isla de Muerte- s'always foggy. The ships disappear. So we shrug it off and go in to get our treasure an' hunt down our trespassers, but when we enter the cave, we meet a sight that we don' expect at all: s'all gone. All the silk, pearls, gems, gold, paintings, pots, pans, vases- even the chest of Aztec gold. See, we were expectin' to be missin' somethin' but not all of it. T'was all taken from us."
"Just like that?"
"Jus' like that. An' another thing was wrong: Barbossa's skeleton was missin'."
Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably at the thought of Barbossa. She hated him and he still lingered in her nightmares somewhere. She loathed to admit it, as she was usually such a strong person and never really got frightened, but after Barbossa, her nightmares had come more frequently and were more terrifying.
"So," Jack continued, "findin' this all too suspicious, we head back to Tortuga an' ask around to see if anyone had seen a ship by the name El Abismo. No one did. So we pack up the Pearl and were gettin' ready ship off the next mornin' when I remember tha' I had a weddin' to attend. So I snuck off the ship and temporarily borrowed Anamaria's boat without asking so I could come see you guys an' then climb back aboard the Pearl today. However, I'm afraid that instead of finding the Abyss, she found us… las' night."
"Why didn't you just excuse yourself from our wedding? You didn't have to come," Elizabeth reassured.
"Well, since Bill couldn't have been here, I decided to be here for 'im. Will's 'is son, after all an' Bill was like my brother.… Besides," he gave a hearty grin of gold and silver, "I can never resist the call of endless drinks- 'specially when they're free."
She smirked slightly. "Yes, well Jack, along with getting drunk you also sunk Anamaria's boat and now owe her a third one because of it."
Jack gave her an abashed look. "How'd you know 'bout the first one?"
Her smirk deepened. "Both Will and Ana weren't too opposed to informing me on the events that took place at Tortuga's dock, Jack. How could you sink her second boat?"
"'ey, I didn't sink it- Norrington did."
She chuckled but her smile faded as she began to stare out into the distance, twisting her ring around her finger. Will had never spoken of his father to Elizabeth before. She had heard once before that he was the spitting image of him, but that was the furthest her knowledge of him had expanded… until now. She began to wonder about Will. How much did he think about his father and miss him?… 'It must be awful to lose your family at so young.…'
"An' what 'ave we here?" Jack suddenly asked silently as he stood, his neck craned toward the door. It was then that Elizabeth noticed something that she should have before. She was simply too frantic to pay attention to any small detail of things at the time, however. There was an elegant silver dirk embedded into the mansion door and a piece of parchment attached to it.
She became alarmed at first and then excited. Perhaps it was a ransom? She stood and approached the pirate captain as his dark eyes ran over the paper quickly. "Jack?"
Jack's face began to change to something between a smirk and a sneer. It was as if he found it amusing in a disgusting way. "I can't believe it! The bastard!" he hissed to himself, forgetting that Elizabeth was still present.
"What is it, Jack?"
"Dunno yet, I've only read the salutation."
"Jack!" she sighed with exasperation, rolling her eyes heavenward. She knew what was coming.
"What? The man addresses me as Mister Sparrow, not Captain! It's an outrage!"
"Just read the bloody note, Jack!"
Jack jumped her sudden use of fowl language and nodding, he turned back to the paper. After reading through it, he sat there in thought for two seconds and then looked back up at her, a strange light illuminating his eyes. "You may find this helpful," he sneered as he held out the paper for her to take.
"Let me see!" she demanded a bit more frantically than she intended as she snatched the note from his dirty hands.
'Mister Sparrow:
We have your governor and the young gentleman in our care. Should this charming little island wish to have either of them back safely and in one piece, I suggest you follow the instructions given to you very carefully.
You are to meet us with the Black Pearl on the island of St. Lucia in three weeks. No naval officers are to come. Should you chose to deny this request, the boy will be inflicted with some… anguish. We have special business to discuss, as you possess something I very much desire.
You will receive further instruction upon your arrival to St. Lucia, no sooner and no later.
Humbly awaiting your arrival,
J. P. F.
Captain'
Elizabeth's eyes went wide as a sudden realization hit her: her father was alive.
Author's Notes: Okay! Sorry for the long wait. This chapter went into some serious revisions and is, as a result, about two times long than it was originally. I like it much better, though. I'll go as fast as I can to get Chapter Four up. Again, I'm revising that and it could take a while.
Thank you so much for your reviews, they've been most helpful. If you could, spread the word about my fic to people whom you think will like it. I don't want my work to be left in the dust by the masterpieces of "The Curse of the White Sword" and "The Measure of a Man." (Which I am anxiously waiting for the next updates on.... Grrrr.) If you haven't read those, I highly recommend them. Mine is nothing compared to them!
Quiet Infinity- I'm glad you liked my writes of the Governor and Jack. I was a bit nervous I was going over the top but I guess I didn't! My goal is to get the characters as real and close to how Ted Elliot, Terry Rossio, Gore Verbinski and the actors would want them portrayed. It's hard. I'm attempting that with the plot as well.
Takada Saiko- Put on your seatbelts if you're still on the edge, sweetheart. It's gonna be a bumpy ride! I'm glad you also enjoyed Jack last chapter. As you can see, your question about Anamaria's boat is answered here.
Opranoodlemantra- You are so sweet! Thank you for your encouraging compliments. I'm glad you liked my portrayals of the characters.
Next time: Jack comes up with a plan to save Will and Governor Swann; meanwhile the said are having problems of their own....