Chapter 3
"First Steps"
The Commodore massaged his forehead vigorously with the tips of his fingers, arms propped up on the table by his elbows as he stared down at the rumpled paper heatedly, as if it were sitting there, taunting him mercilessly. Yes, Elizabeth and Jack had brought some hope to a hopeless situation by discovering this note. It stated which ship it was that took Governor Swann and Will Turner and where it would be on a specific date; in fact, it seemed horrifically stupid to give away such crucial information. The commodore could easily ambush the ship and take back the governor. That was where the problem laid: it was simply too easy.
"There has to be a catch," Norrington muttered softly, to himself.
Elizabeth looked at him for a moment, the smile from the twinkle of hope of saving her father and Will disappearing slowly. That wasn't what she wanted to hear. She must've not heard him correctly. "What?"
He closed his eyes and cursed himself inside his head- he hadn't realized he had said that out loud. Now he needed to clarify. "There's all the information that I need held in this one simple note, Elizabeth," the commodore replied looking up at Elizabeth with a small trace of distress in his eyes and tapping the paper as he spoke of it. "It's too much to trust. Usually it takes days, weeks and even months of investigation and questioning before we gather enough information to go after the ship and yet we have it all right here, mere hours after the incident."
"For all we know it could be a trap and they could attempting to lure us into it," Lieutenant Gillette finished for him from over his shoulder.
"Not if they knew that you'd think like that," she replied a bit encouragingly, unwilling to accept any excuses in her current state. "They might be expecting you to think it's a trap if they gave you all the information and, therefore, could be using that to their advantage by expecting you not to come for them."
"But we don't know that," Norrington replied firmly and a bit more angrily than he intended for it to be.
It was visibly apparent that that had slightly brought her down inside and was enough to get her to think things through carefully. She bit her lip as Jack leaned against the corner near the door, twirling the silver dagger in his fingers, quietly, for once and ignoring the threatening looks that Murtogg and Mullroy were attempting to give him. They had been called into the office because they had been two of the only people who had witnessed the Abyss first hand.
"Well," she spoke again, "well, what if they were just incredibly stupid? Half the pirates I was with on the Black Pearl weren't exactly geniuses, Commodore. Perhaps they never considered the idea that Jack Sparrow would reveal this paper to Commodore Norrington?"
"That could be, but are you willing to bet your father's life on it?"
"I have to try!" she shouted back, becoming angry and frustrated once again. "I would rather lose my father trying than find out he's dead because I abandoned him!"
The commodore combated her shouts of rage with arguments of his own also in a loud volume, standing as he did so to add emphasis to his point. "Not if you are at all concerned for the well-being of your father and husband! The note states specifically that we are not to follow or they will bring harm to Will and I don't doubt that your father will suffer in a very similar matter, regardless of the fact that they did not mention it!"
"And do you think they'll hold a feast in their honor if we don't?!" Elizabeth's gentle features were contorted in rage at the man's misunderstanding, at his unwillingness to help her do for her loved ones as Will had once done for her. Elizabeth Turner held a fiery spirit, wild and of its own will and attempts to restrain it only caused it to grow and explode with wrath, making her nigh untamable. In fact, Norrington had noticed that there were several situations when she lost her temper and her father couldn't even hush her- only Will had discovered the secret to calming the storm."They'll probably suffer all the same if we do not follow, and you know that as well as anybody!"
"Yes, Miss S-" he caught himself, "Mrs. Turner, I know and understand that very well, indeed.…" Commodore Norrington let his face drop downward and he placed his hands on his desk, leaning his weight against it with a sigh of exasperation. If he got through this alive, he swore that he was going to retire. Conflicts that he had to fix and deal with were becoming more and more complicated- to the point where the commodore wanted to start tearing his hair out and eat his wig and his hat. First the governor's daughter disappears and it evolves into a big rescue and gallivanting after cursed pirates- not any normal pirates, no! It had to be cursed pirates. Now the governor himself was gone with his son-in-law and the situation wasn't as much the dangerous, life-or-death situation that he was used to as it was sticky and tricky- like a riddle. It had to be thought through carefully and Elizabeth's determined fire wasn't helping.
She, like Turner, could be quite rash when something drastic occurred and when she wanted something she would run right in to take it after simply skimming through the situation in her mind. But that was where she was unlike Turner. Will didn't even think about the situation at all, his brain simply echoed with one thing: his goal. And it didn't matter what dangers lied in front of him, his way of doing it was to run right into harm's way before realizing he could've walked around the situation. But, in a way, it wasn't Turner's fault. In other situations he was quite focused and well thought out. No, it wasn't his fault, it was the recklessness that inevitably accompanies the lover's heart.
Taking another calming breath, he continued. "I do not believe they will be treated like kings while aboard their ship, but I believe they will be treated with more courtesy if we heeded their requests. We may even be able to have Mister Sparrow-" Jack flinched at the use of mister "- persuade them into setting the price for a ransom, which we will, of course, pay, should that come." He sunk into his seat.
"Commodore, these are not normal English gentlemen simply wanting some spare coins in their pouches," Elizabeth pressed, walking toward the table and leaning over it, emphasizing her words, "these are pirates, and not the sort of gentlemen pirates that Will or Captain Sparrow are." Jack, still in the corner and passively listening, beamed upon hearing someone address him properly. "The only reason Barbossa and his crew treated me with any courtesy at all, was because the curse bade them and made them bring me to no harm. You can't trust them."
The commodore looked as if he were stuck in an awful situation. And he was. He was not lying to Elizabeth, he could never lie to her. As absurd as it might have seemed to most people and, regardless of how many times he tried to force himself otherwise, he still cared for her. It was no longer passionate love, he had come to a closure on such thoughts and feelings for her in that area. It was more like the love that had formed between Jack and Will- a brotherly love. He now cared for her the way a protective elder brother would for his younger sister and, unavoidably, Mr. Turner had somehow managed to worm his way into the commodore's tender heart as a surrogate younger brother.
He had grown to accept and recognize their atypical but remarkably sturdy and profound love for one another as a rare and beautiful thing- the sort of thing that you let be because, in the end, you just know it's right and deserves to be kept alive in a world where everything is cold and self-centered. Like two intertwined roses- one red and one white- planted amongst a bed of weeds, if one destroyed the harmony and beauty a love like theirs held, the world would become just a patch of worthless disarray where there had once been a lovely garden, empty and meaningless. Now, not for the first time, he had been handed the hoe and the spade and was responsible for the fate of this inexplicable virtue- he could not let the roses die.
But what could he do? There were so many 'maybe's and 'if's and 'could be's … it was all just a horrible game of rolling the dice. He couldn't afford to lose what had been placed upon the table, he needed to roll the right number- maybe even if it meant acquiring some loaded dice. However, he needed there to be nowhere else to turn before he walked down that dark alley.…
"James," Elizabeth's voice suddenly seemed like the gentle coo of a dove, but the sound of it being broken could be traced oh so slightly. She walked around the table and knelt herself at his feet, taking hold of his armrest. "Please.… I have to try. I just have to.…"
He didn't respond, nor did he look at her. Yes, he knew she had to try, but they had to figure out the right gamble to play the game properly. He looked up at Jack, who looked back him with an expression that suggested he was fine, entertaining himself with listening to the conversation. In fact, the relaxed composure that the pirate held himself in would have seemed suspicious to the commodore, had he not been Jack Sparrow.
Elizabeth took his silence as a rejection. She sighed as shining tears began to well in her eyes. She began to think of words that could describe her agony, her ultimate need to have this done. It just had to be… "…When… when you are given a chance to achieve something- anything you need or desire- you can't just let it walk away without trying, even if it's the smallest chance possible.… You'll end up regretting it and hating yourself for the rest of your life.…
"If I just stand by and let this pass me by without even attempting to bring them back, I will never forgive myself. It's not some simple thing like not buying that sword you want so bad- that's just an object. You'll get over it. These are people that I love more than anything… because of that, my soul will never be at rest until I know what has happened or what will happen to both of them.
"Can't you understand it's not a matter of 'I want your help?' I need your help.… I'm crippled without it."
The commodore looked back into her eyes, and her face. Pain was etched into every inch of it to the point it seemed irreversible. He had a hole in the pit of his stomach, his throat was clenched and his heart twisted. He felt awful, wishing that this was some uncomfortable nightmare or that he could undo the problem that lay before them. But it wasn't that simple. 'Nothing in life is simple.' "Elizabeth,… you must understand… I want to help, not make matters worse. This isn't a game, we are gambling with the governor's well-being and, possibly, his life. It is essential that we are not rash."
"Bu-"
He put his hand up as a signal for her to stop her mouth from running, as he was not finished. "Never did I say that we were abandoning him. Did I ever say that, Gillette?"
"No sir," Gillette confirmed, hiding his surprise at the sudden gentle tone in his commander's normally harsh voice.
"All I am asking is that you be patient until we have found the safest option for your father. We must not be rash."
Elizabeth let her face fall after Norrington had pressed his last sentence. She couldn't wait. It wasn't an option for her. She had to find her father… she had to find Will. She would die without him. She needed him even more than she needed her father. It wasn't that she didn't love her father. Truly, she loved him very much. But her father was just someone very close to her and Will was her second half, her soul, her world. She felt empty without him… incomplete.
"Elizabeth, look at me,"the commodore stood and cupped her fragile face in his right hand. It was funny, really. She was so complex that most of the time he could not tell what she was thinking. But he could always tell whenever her thoughts dwelt on her precious blacksmith. Always. "I swear to you, I will find your husband. And I'm going to do the best I can to make sure that he is alive and as unharmed as possible when he returns to you. You must trust me- I am only trying to do what is best for the well-being of him and wholeheartedly intend to bring him home to you. I promise."
Amongst her despair, he could sense that she was relieved as well. A tear escaped her vividly sparkling brown eyes, trickling down her cheek with a wet testimony of its passing left behind it and Norrington allowed a half-smile to twitch at the corner of lips. It was easy to see why he had once fallen in love with her. She was so free-spirited, so alive, so pure and so beautiful. William Turner was indeed a lucky man,… and he was glad for him.
"You promise?" she asked, quietly.
"I swear on my father's watery grave," he swore, allowing a small and yet warm smile to grace his normally cold and stoic face.
"Commodore," Jack put in suddenly, pocketing the dirk and waltzing in his drunken like fashion around the table- to Norrington's dismay. He leaned an arm on Commodore Norrington's shoulder, who grunted his disapproval. "Commodore, it seems to me that, should you attempt to pursue the Abyss, the Governor and Mr. Turner would have to take the consequences."
Gillette snorted aloud, not at all attempting to stifle it.
"Yes.…" The commodore had a very disgruntled look on his face as he counted to ten in his head, dropping the hand that had cupped Elizabeth's face. "We've only been talking about that for the last half an hour, Mr. Sparrow."
"Captain. And, yes I know that, but I'm trying to make a point. Because, you see, the only way that such would happen to the duo is if they- aboard the Abyss-" he made an exuberant hand gesture, "were to see you," he lightly pricked the tip of the commodore's nose with his index finger (which put the commander off quite a bit, I must tell you), "following them."
There was a long silence. Elizabeth, Gillette, Murtogg and Mullroy were looking at Jack with questioning expressions and the commodore was desperately trying to keep his cool and ignore Jack's badgering voice and disgusting breath. '1…2…3…' But he couldn't help but puzzle over the words and wonder what Jack was getting at at the same time.
Jack's face began to fall as no one exclaimed anything about his pure brilliance, but just stood there, staring with bemused faces. He decided to repeat. "That's only if they see you following them."
Norrington, who had been grudgingly listening, suddenly understood what Jack was proposing, but it wasn't like he hadn't thought about that already. He grabbed the wrist to the arm that Jack had settled on his shoulder and harshly removed it. "What are you saying, Sparrow? That we must hide the Dauntless and the Interceptor under a blanket whilst shadowing the Abyss? They'll know we're following them, you can't hide a ship from another ship's view- unless there's fog or some sort of other natural element at your advantage."
"True," Jack said with a big nod as he slipped his arm from Norrington's grip and walked back to the front of the desk, "but s'not a matter of what's possible and what's not. S'a matter of what's improbable and what's not."
"I'm afraid that I don't understand what you're saying."
Jack sat on the desk and gestured with his finger at a point as he spoke. "S'not probable to literally hide your ship. You can' do it. In fact, I'm gonna take back what I jus' said. Without fog an' the natural elemen's you was talkin' 'bout, s' both improbable an' impossible.… But that's only if you visualize it the way you are now. Truth is, you can hide a whole ship, y'just gotta see it, mate."
Commodore cocked an eyebrow at Jack. "And you see it?"
"Aye. I see it, alright."
"How's that?" Gillette asked after he had let out a scoff, not caring in the least for how it would affect Jack.
Fortunately, Jack did not care. Jack smirked, ignoring the deriding tone in the lieutenant's voice, and then put a mock-worried look upon his visage. "Well, actually, before I tell you… yeh know, my pardon will be up any momen' today, an' I really can' help you if it fails me-"
"Alright, we'll extend it!" Norrington snapped, become irate once again. "Now get on with your so-called 'brilliant idea.'"
"Well," Jack took out the dagger once again and began twirling it in his fingers as he spoke, "the way you're thinkin' is too obvious. O' course, one way of hidin' is completely coverin' oneself from the viewer's eye, but as I've become more an' more… infamous, I've learned tha' there's another, more efficient way of hidin' oneself. And that is, o' course, a li'l trick that I like to call, 'façade,' 'veneer,' or, what you may call 'disguise.' Savvy?"
Gillette raised another very skeptical eyebrow at Jack, stifling a laugh. He spoke with an irritatingly haughty tone to his voice that made Jack wanna gag- but he didn't show it. "You cannot disguise the Dauntless, Mister Sparrow. A man-o-war is bound to be only in the possession of the Royal Navy-"
"Ah, but ' o said it 'ad to be the Dauntless?" Jack returned. He looked to the commodore with a twinkle in his eyes and several from his teeth. "What of the new Interceptor you 'ad built? Small, fas'… a good pirate ship, really. An' then all you'd 'ave to do is change the wardrobe of you an' your men, I'll teach you the basics of what pirates appear to do whilst at sea and there you'll have it: you're very own mock-pirate ship!"
"But pirates fight pirates," Elizabeth put in, becoming very involved in the idea. "That won't help us get any closer without risking some form of damage at all."
"Well, 'o said that it had to be a pirate ship? What if we appeared to be, say, a merchant ship? You could disguise the Interceptor and follow jus' out of the Abyss' sight, far behind the Black Pearl. Eh? What d'you say to that?" He had introduced his plan boisterously, slapping Norrington behind the back heartily as he finished it off.
A silence filled the room as the commodore quietly considered this proposal to himself. Was it possible that, if executed correctly, it just might work? Perhaps.… "… It's quite a …clever idea, Mr. Sparrow. And I admit… it could work. But we are still faced with one key problem."
"And what could that possibly be, my dear commodore?"
"We have no means by which to track this ship. Should something go wrong- per say, the ship never shows up- we cannot successfully track a ship that we have no information about except the name."
Jack grinned another toothy grin as he drove the dagger into the hard wood surface of the commodore's desk. The commodore groaned mentally- he had just gotten that desktop repaired of the damage Mr. Turner had inflicted upon it with his hatchet. "That's where you're completely hopeless without me, mate. Jus' meet me here early tomorrow morning with the Interceptor donning 'er new pain' job, an' your men a new wardrobe." He gave a toothy grin of gold and silver. "If yeh trus' me, you can' go wrong. 'Cause you've been forgettin' one very important thing, mate.… I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."
Blood. The first word that came to mind for Will was "blood." He tasted it so strongly it was unmistakable. He slowly began to awake from the silent world that envelops us in our gentle states of sleep and the taste was stronger with every passing second. Not only that, but there was pain. Pain like his body was an awful bruise. His head pulsated uncomfortably and his blood thumped loudly in his ears with every heart beat. Then he was cold.
He did not want to open his eyes. He refused to. He knew where he was or, at least, he had a vague idea of where he was. What, with the gentle creaky rocking about, the muffled cry of the gulls over his head and distinct smell of salt and fish he knew he had to be on a boat and the thought was disquieting. He did not want to open his eyes. He refused to.… But, in the end, he knew he had to.
Struggling with two sides of himself he managed to pry his eyelids apart and face what was before him: wood. He was facing the wall of whatever ship he was on or wherever he was. He groaned, knowing now he would have to move. But his limbs, every inch of his body felt like it could lie in that one position on his side for the rest of his natural life. Tired and desiring relief from the soreness that overcame his body, he finally began to sit up after a long period of just staring at his wall, wearily defiant.
As he did sit up, the pain he felt about him intensified with his movement. He flinched but moved to a sitting position nonetheless. His head ached. From what he knew not, but he pressed his forehead against his palm in an attempt to make it lessen. It did not work. He rubbed his eyes.
"Will, is that you?"
His head shot up to the familiar voice. He looked about him. He was in the brig of a ship, dimly lit currently, and his vision was blurred in the manner it usually was after a long sleep. As his vision began to sharpen to what it should've been, his eyes caught the blur of a familiar shape directly across from him. He blinked a couple of times until the figure finally came into focus.
"Governor?"
The governor smiled quite nervously as he gave out a small sigh. "I had hoped it was you."
"Governor, I thought you were dead!"
Governor Swann looked a bit confused. "And I you, but who told you that absurd idea?"
"Estella did, sir," Will replied without hesitation.
Governor Swann frowned in reply to this. "Hm…. That's really most peculiar…. But, as you can see for yourself, I am perfectly alive and fairly well." He gave a reassuring smile to confirm this. "Although, I must admit, quite confused… and hungry."
As if on cue, Will's stomach grumbled and let all formality that had been present to be thrown out the window… I mean, porthole. Will looked up at the governor and gave an embarrassed grin. "You and I both." He joined the governor in a quick chuckle before he let his thoughts drift away. Frankly, Will was also very puzzled. He remembered very distinctly being told by Estella that the governor had been murdered in the drawing room. Something strange was afoot and it didn't take a genius to realize it. 'Why would Estella lie about something like this?'
The ship tilted a bit with a creak, allowing the sea to rock it in whatever direction she saw fit. Will yawned. "Where are we?"
"We are on a ship."
".…Well, I knew that," Will replied with a friendly smirk. "But, what ship? And why are we here?"
Governor Swann frowned and took a seat on the floor, a bit hesitant to touch the thin dirt layer that lay on it, Will couldn't help but notice. "Both questions are of the like that I would love to have answered for myself."
"What, you mean no one's spoken to you?"
"No," the governor replied quietly, giving his wigged head a small shake but allowing an ever-so-subtle smile grow, regardless of his mood.
Will sighed and tilted his back, leaning it against the back wall with a small bump, and he closed his eyes in stressful thought. "How long have we been here?"
The governor's frown returned. "I'm not sure. I could only hope that it has just been a day or two and that Commodore Norrington has discovered our absence."
"Well, of course he has-" Will assured, looking back up at his father-in-law, "you're the governor. You're an essential person when it comes to the well being of Port Royal."
"Yes, but I do not have the power to know what was going on at the time of our kidnaping. For all we know, Port Royal could've been attacked by pirates once again just as much as it could have been left in peace. And the town could be burnt to the ground just as much as it could be still standing, Elizabeth and the other women taken just as much as they could be safely at home unharmed, and the commodore could be dead just as much as he could be alive. We don't know, as much as we despise admitting it."
Will felt a slight bit ashamed and embarrassed for not thinking of that. What if they were taken away, but everything, everyone they once knew, loved and treasured had been put to some form of destruction or misuse? He shivered. Just thinking about Elizabeth being cruelly violated by lustful monsters sent shivers up his spine and made him rather nauseous. He shivered again and decided not to dwell on that, he needed to be able to think of other things. Things like how he was going to help the governor escape and get back to Port Royal to discover whether or not it was truthfully still standing.
From somewhere in the back of his mind, a small question began to tinge out of nowhere. What did Will and Governor Swann have in common (besides that they were now father and son-in-law) that would appeal to … anyone? As he thought about it, he couldn't think of anything that brought them together- they just were suddenly related. Perhaps there was some connection that he did not know about? He sighed and let his head lean back onto the bulkhead again. Right now, he didn't want to think. He just wanted to rest, regardless of the fact he had just awoken.
The fingers of his right hand began to unwittingly twist the wedding ring on his left hand and, as he found himself doing this, his thoughts returned to Elizabeth. She could take care of herself very well, Will knew that. After the last year's adventure, he had received permission from her father to teach her the art of swordplay as a form of self-defense, and she was a very fast learner. Yes, she could take care of herself… but still.… He let out a sigh of worry. 'Oh God, please let her be okay.…'
"I'm sorry."
Will opened his eyes and looked at the governor with a bemused expression. "What?"
"I've gone and caused you needless distress. I apologize. I know how much you worry for Elizabeth's safety."
Will shook his head. "No, you needn't apologize. What, with the way I worry about her, the thought probably would have crossed my mind eventually on its own. Besides, you care for her just as-" The ship jerked suddenly in the governor's cell's direction and Will slammed headlong into the bars of his cell.
"Will! Are you alright?!"
"Yeah," he groaned in reply as he rubbed his head where it had made its collision. "Just my pride.…" He sat himself down and looked at the governor- he had a worried look on his face. "You know, I find it ironic that I have fairly good sea legs, but I sit down and fall over because I don't have a good sea bottom."
The governor laughed and Will grinned. Really, the governor was quite friendly. He had thought that getting on the man's good side would have taken a long while- possibly years, and here he was making him laugh without much effort and carrying out easy conversations. It felt quite good, actually. 'I'm doing it, Elizabeth….'
The door to the brig opened noisily on the spur of a moment and heavy footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs accompanied by a old man's raspy voice. "Come this way, Charlie."
An old man with wispy white hair, stooped shoulders, ragged pirates' clothes and a face worn from years and years of salt spray and the sea's waves beating against his skin came hobbling down the steps, guiding a young boy with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes down the stairs. The lad appeared to be about thirteen years of age and, Will noted, had a red gash above his left eyebrow. He also looked quite grumpy as he dragged his feet behind the old man, obviously not to willing to be there. Will watched them with silent curiosity. Clearly, they weren't on any ordinary pirate ship.
The old man sat the boy, who Will guessed was Charlie, down on a large rectangular object that was covered with a blanket- like a table with a tablecloth- and pulled out a cloth, a bowl of water, a bottle of rum and some bandages. "Now, you know better than to be pullin' bickers with Stripes, Charlie," the old man wheezed as he wet the cloth in the water and began to dab at the cut lightly.
"S'not my fault," Charlie protested, furrowing his eyebrows in contempt.
"Don't move yer brows, kid."
Charlie relaxed his face and continued his excuse. "He's the one who started it all- callin' my mother a bloody whore."
The old man feebly shook his head in disapproval as he took out a bottle and applied a bit of the alcoholic liquid in it to a new clean cloth. "S'not the point. If yeh don' learn to control that temper o' yers, yer father is gonna have to leave yeh ashore with some grouchy cooking wench." He dabbed Charlie's cut with the cloth.
"Ouch," Charlie hissed, pulling away from the old man's reach. "Bloody ell, Briggot, whadya put on that cloth anyway?"
"Yeh watch yer language boy. We'll be havin' none of that from the Cabin Boy."
"What's it matter? The whole crew talks that way and we never see you comin' down on them."
"You hold yer tongue.… Now, hold still."
Charlie rolled his eyes and slouched into a motionless position as Briggot began to dab away at the gash, kicking his feet to and fro as he waited. The cloth that had been spread over the table began to move in reaction to Charlie's dangling limbs and at one time moved enough for Will to catch a glimpse of the table underneath. He sneered as he caught sight not of wood, but of rock. That wasn't a table, in fact, it appeared to be something quite different… the Aztec stone chest. Will didn't need more than a second to recognize the exotic designs on the sides and, as he pinpointed exactly what it could be that Charlie was sitting on, he knew that nothing good could come out of the situation. If the curse had been such hell when Barbossa's crew took just a piece of gold each out of the chest, how bad would it be if the whole lot was taken, stone chest and all? 'This can't be good. I really need to get us out of here.…'
Briggot pulled out a threaded needle and gripped Charlie's chin firmly in his left hand, holding the needle poised but frightfully shakily. Charlie's eyes went slightly wider than they previously were as Briggot approached his face with a very tremulous and alarmingly unsteady needle. "Now, hold still, Charlie."
"Uh, sir-"
Charlie and Briggot looked at Will in perfect synchronization, which made him a bit shy at first but he re-discovered his courage. He cleared his throat. This may have been his chance to get out of this ruddy cell. He needed a better look at that stone… thing. "I- er- could do that … if you would like."
The two went agape at him and Will became very uneasy.
"Bloody ell!" Charlie gasped.
Briggot thumped him on the head.
"Ow!"
Will became confused at their odd reactions to his suggestion. 'What did I do?' "What?… what's wrong?"
They regained their suspicious composures and stared, wide-eyed, at Will as if he was a deadly beast readying to pounce on them, should they make a sound. "Charlie," Briggot hissed, "you seein' what I'm seein'?" Will rolled his eyes heavenward. Why did he need to whisper?
"Depends on what your seein'."
"I'm seein' his face and it's startin' to spook me."
They paused and held very still for a moment. Will leaned his forehead on the bars of his cell. This was ridiculous. It wasn't like whispering was going to change anything.
"Is he dead?" Charlie finally hissed.
"I'm not dead!" Will muttered, a bit angry. Was he deathly pale or something? "What's the matter with you two? I just wanted to help. Is that some kind of phenomenal event that has happened in your lives or something? You look like you've never seen me before or-" he cut off as a thought hit Will while he rambled in his anger. A long pause took place in his speech, then he looked a bit like a light had turned on behind his eyes, "or maybe you have."
Governor Swann looked a while on the young blacksmith with bewilderment, as did Charlie and Briggot.
"Briggot.…" Will whispered to himself as he stared at the old man for a long time, trying to remember something. That name sounded almost familiar and, now that he thought about it, the face whom that name belonged to looked familiar as well. He didn't know why nor what for, but something in the back of his mind flickered, an instinct it seemed or something similar to that, that told him he had seen this face somewhere before. He pierced Briggot with a steadfast and unblinking stare, straight into his clear and sparkling hazel eyes and Briggot, a bit unsure and
uncomfortable of himself, found himself staring back into Will's unnervingly.
Those eyes.…. There was something about those eyes.… It hit him.
"Did you ever know a William Turner?"
Briggot threw him a suspicious look. "Aye…."
A small grin began to form on Will's mouth. "Is your name Daniel?"
Briggot looked up at him in a bit of shock. "Huh?"
"Daniel Briggot. Is that your name?"
Briggot dropped the needle he held in his hand and stared at Will as if he were a ghost. His jaw quivered for a moment before he decided to speak. "How'd you know that?" Suddenly his voice wasn't so raspy.
Will smiled slyly. "I have my ways.…" His eyes drifted towards the chest again. Perhaps the governor and him were both here but for different purposes? The governor was a figure of power and Will was inescapably tied to the history of that stone chest. 'What are these pirates up to?' He stared at Charlie for a while.
"What's the matter with you?" The youth was obviously uncomfortable with his gaze.
Will didn't reply for a long time. 'If I can manage to get out of here, how am I going to manage to get the governor out of his cell and manage to take a good look at the chest without drawing attention? And, if it is the stone chest that I think it is, what am I going to be able to do about it?… Blast it, I wish Jack was here!' He averted his line of sight to Briggot once more. After many seconds had gone by, he finally spoke, but he spoke slowly and carefully, as if he were still coming back from deep thoughts. "You don't know who I am, do you?"
Briggot and Charlie just stared back at him blankly. Biggot finally managed to shake his head.
Will smirked. "Isn't that odd.…" The governor, who had been watching silently the whole while, became confused. What was Will playing at? "So, are going to let me take care of that wound or am I going to have to watch you jab that poor kid's eye out?"
Briggot and Charlie looked at each other for a moment. It seemed as if they were having a
silent argument for a moment with their eyes. Will, even though he had only just met the two of them, could almost hear them saying their thoughts aloud: 'I'm not lettin' him out, you do it!' 'I will not! You do it!' After several seconds had gone by, their stare was broken.
"Well, go on," Charlie pushed Briggot lightly. "Let him out, then."
"Alrigh', alrigh'," Briggot grumbled, returning back to his old personality. Charlie had won the wordless fight. Will's eyes followed him as he hampered over to a crate, where he lifted a pistol off the top of it. Slowly and shakily he cocked the gun with one hand while holding it firmly in the other. He then bent over and grabbed a large ring loaded with keys and hobbled over to Will's cell door. "Yer not pullin' no tricks on me, yer not," he growled as he pointed a shaky gun at Will's chest.
Will was a bit surprised at the man's … wariness. He had never been considered dangerous enough to have to have a gun pointed at him for restraint. The only other time he had been restrained with weapons was when Barbossa wanted to ensure he didn't escape from the Black Pearl after he had traded himself for Elizabeth and Jack's freedom and during the blood ritual on Isla de Muerte. But, in the end, he concluded that these- er- gentlemen- dealt with dishonest men for a living. He was almost expecting Will to be like those other dishonest men, so he supposed it was reasonable for Briggot to hold him up like this.
Briggot held a shaky gun pointed at Will while trying to get the right key in his fingers without using the hand holding the pistol. This was complicated, as he needed two hands to sort through the keys on the ring until he found the right one. He repeatedly tried to flip keys around the ring, using just his index finger, but this eventually proved to be impossible as the ring was far too big for his fingers to get a good grip on the keys. Finally he sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward with frustration. "Hold this for me, will ya?" he asked and he handed Will the pistol without a look of suspicion or warning towards him.
Will raised an eyebrow and looked at the pistol then at Charlie, who had an identical look and smirked. Obviously, Briggot was one who could only concentrate on one thing at a time: the fact that Will could use the gun against him wasn't what occupied his brain currently. Briggot also was near-sighted, Will discovered. He would take a key, slide it to the top of the key ring and look at it so closely that his nose nearly made contact with it. "Nope," he'd grunt and then let the key fall down the opposite side of the ring. After five keys had been checked, Will was beginning to tire of waiting- for some odd reason Briggot was irritating him in a way he wasn't used to. Normally, he was a patient man, but for some odd reason-
"Found it!" Briggot proclaimed triumphantly, holding up the correct key. He bent over and shakily began the attempt to stick the key in the keyhole, clutching to the door with his free hand for balance. Attempt one: missed. Blast. Attempt two: missed. Blast. Attempt Three: Almost made it, but missed. Blast it! Ect.
Will, who was still holding the gun in his hands, found himself looking across at the governor, who also had a cocked eyebrow at this display. He hated to admit it, but this was pretty pathetic.
"Ha-ha! HA! We've got it!" Briggot announced and he turned the key, swinging the door to the cell open with a creak.
Will took one step out of the cell and handed the gun back to Mr. Briggot with a cheerful and polite smile. Mr. Briggot grabbed the gun by the barrel, shakily turned it around, got hold of it properly and pointed it at Will again, who suppressed a small snort of laughter.
"Alrigh'," Briggot sighed, looking Will up and down questionably. "You can go." He took a step aside and gestured for Will to pass.
Will inclined his head graciously in a thanks as he glanced at the governor, causing Charlie to laugh and Governor Swann to shake his head with a small smile on his face. He walked over to where Charlie was sitting as Briggot scorned at him. He didn't like Will, that much was certain. And Will had a good guess why as he bent over and picked up the needle from the floor. He would explain the whole situation to the governor later.
He straightened himself before Charlie and placed the needle on the table. The cut had bled over again a little bit so Will grabbed the first rag and began dabbing at Charlie's cut a little bit. The boy glared at him. 'Boy, he's friendly,' Will thought dryly. Perhaps he ought to loosen him up a bit? It was worth a try.... "So, Charles… what's your last name?"
Charlie snorted. "You think I'm stupid enough to tell you?"
Will resisted rolling his eyes. 'Oh, aren't you sweet?' "Well, why not?"
"You could be from the Devil for all I know," the boy snapped back readily.
Will raised an eyebrow at this but then shrugged it off. Considering the circumstances, with the chest and all, he supposed it was fair enough a thought. "Well, if I were from the Devil, wouldn't I already know your name?"
"Yes, but you ask anyway just for appearances," Charlie replied quite casually.
Will laughed as he put the cloth down and picked up the needle. He was pretty sure the boy had his whole history and fate decided for him. "Alright," he brandished the needle. "This may hurt a bit."
"I'm not a child."
It was Will's turn to scoff as he pierced the soft flesh with the first stitch.
Charlie gripped the tablecloth until his knuckles turned white and ground his teeth as his face became contorted in some form of concentration.
"You alright?" Will asked. He didn't get a response, nor did he expect one. He knew the answer to that question: it hurt. A lot. But Charlie seemed the sort of boy that was too proud to admit it. Will began to sew the stitches and close the wound. "So, how did you do this?"
"Was runnin' and not watchin' where I was goin'," Charlie grunted. He seemed to be subconsciously holding breath and his eyes were beginning to water. "Sterling told me to stop but then I looked forward to see what was the matter and I smacked my forehead into the capstan."
"Ah. I see.…" He stitched in silence for a moment. After he began the tenth and final stitch, Charlie finally decided to talk- perhaps to prevent the tears from falling.
"S'not too bad, is it? I hate stitches."
"Well, it's bad enough to stay in for the typical two weeks," Will almost scolded as he pulled the last stitch taught. Charlie hissed and gripped the tablecloth a bit firmer. Will pulled out some small scissors and cut the string, then stood back and admired his work. He grinned. He had always been good with his hands. He took the bandages and wrapped them swiftly, but neatly and tightly around his crown. He tied it off. "Alright, you're done."
"Finally!" Charlie slipped off the table and, without so much as a "thank you" or even a grateful glance, ran up the stairs and to the main deck, noisily. His footsteps faded and all went silent.… 'Great,' Will thought with a grin. 'Now, to take a look at the chest!'
"Well, yer done now! Get back in yer cell," Briggot growled, jabbing the gun into Will's back. Will groaned internally. He had forgotten about Briggot. He jabbed Will in the back again. "Com'on! Let's go!"
"Wait," Will turned around, keeping his hands in the air so as not to scare poor Briggot. "I have a quick question or two for you."
Briggot gave him another of his very suspicious looks. "And what would that be?"
"You're pirates, right?"
"Aye," Briggot stated, keeping his gun on Will and watching him as carefully as possible through his squinted eyes.
Will took a breath and released it. 'Well, here goes nothing.' "Is it too late to invoke the right of parlay?"
"No," Briggot stated slowly.
Will half-smiled a bit and let a small sigh of relief escape. Things were beginning to go well. He just had to think like a pirate, which wouldn't be as hard as it once could have been. He'd been around pirates and after returning to Port Royal he had read up on them and asked Elizabeth about them for such an occasion as this. "Good. Parlay."
"What?"
Will rolled his eyes. "Parlay," he repeated. "I demand the rights for me and the governor to negotiate with your captain."
Briggot stood frozen for a moment, as if Will's fast-spoken words were taking an especially long time to piece together and make sense in Briggot's mind. "….Oh," realization finally hit him. "Oh, alrigh'."
"This way," Briggot was leading Will and Governor Swann up the steps to the main deck and to the captain's cabin. It was now about seven in the evening, according to the lavender and red hues that the sky radiated of, and the lamps were beginning to be lit. The ship was a run-down old schooner. Old and run down, yes, but Will couldn't help but notice how swift she could still fly across the ocean's surface- they must've been going 8 knots, at least, and it looked as if she was capable of going a lot faster than that, as the wind wasn't as strong as it could be.
The governor and the blacksmith were brought to a stop in front of the Captain's cabin. Will looked curiously at Briggot. Why weren't they going in? "Wait here," Briggot said stiffly. "Have to ask the captain if he's ready to talk with ya." He turned and hobbled toward the cabin in his stiff way.
Will sighed and decided to cast his gaze at the ships sails. Old and dirty, he could see from their yellowish tint. But they looked as if they'd hold true in a fairly good storm. His eyes wandered amongst the old but splendid rigging and down the sturdy masts until his gaze was cast at the crew members. Over all, they were a rather ragtag bunch, but not nearly as odd as Jack's was. He couldn't help but notice that, as they saw him, the crewmen stopped whatever it was they were doing and stared at Will, expressionlessly. Before he knew it, the whole crew was staring at Will in poker-faced manners and he stared back at them with his eyebrows and face contorted in utter discomfort.
A big, boisterous laugh rang out and caused Will to jump a bit and look to where the voice was coming from. A big man with his sleeves rolled up and some form of tobacco or another weed being chewed in his mouth hopped down from the upper deck. He had messy auburn hair that was (moslty) tied back. Will was about five inches shorter than man, and not nearly as broad. His face was round and squashed and his nose and cheeks rosy. His eyes were green but had a yellowish tint to the whites and quite bloodshot. His teeth were tan. "What 'ave we 'ere?" He poked Will harshly in the belly. Will sneered at him and brushed his hand away. Obviously a bully of sorts. "Fresh meat, eh?"
Will turned away from the man and looked elsewhere. His breath reeked of tobacco and alcohol and it made Will want to gag. How could people allow such things to enter their bodies? It was disgusting.
The man laughed. "Not too friendly, are we, pretty boy?" He poked Will harshly in the side with his beefy finger. 'Pretty boy?' Will rolled his eyes and that man laughed again. "Wha's the matter? Mute? Shy? Are you scared?" he taunted.
This was ridiculous. Will crossed his arms firmly across his chest and decided to ignore the man's comments. 'If he's intentionally trying to push my buttons, he's not doing a very good job of it- he's using a child's form of mockery!'
"Oh-ho!" the man laughed. "What 'ave we 'ere?" The man reached out and grabbed Will's left wrist, forcing him to extend his arm with a fierce yank. He examined the gold band on his wedding finger with hungry eyes. "Got some riches with ya, don'chya?"
'What?!' Will squirmed. He wouldn't dare take that- that was Elizabeth's wedding ring. No man in their right mind would dare take such a precious item from away from anyone… unless, of course, they were a pirate.
"I'll jus' consider this as yer dockin' fee an' take it off yer hands." The man guffawed as he gripped Will's wrist tighter and reached for the treasure. "Get it? 'Take it off yer hands?'" He laughed again as his dirty fingers made contact with the smooth, golden surface.
'Elizabeth.…'
"No!!!" In a flash Will's foot had made harsh contact with the man's… family jewels, and he was released from his awful grip. The man doubled over and fell to his kness in the sudden pain, roaring in agony while the whole of the crew, who had been watching, mind you, went into fits of laughter. Will's right hand instinctively felt his wedding digit to confirm the gift was still there- it was. He sighed with relief and looked down at the thug before him. He sent a snarl toward the man as he gave him a harsh kick in the ribs. "You don't touch my ring." 'Bastard.'
Will turned and began to return to the governor's side, too upset to care about whether or not he approved of his actions.
"Oi!" the man called after Will after he had regained his voice. He began to stand. "Who are you?" Clearly, no one had ever dared to retaliate against the man before.
Will stopped and turned around, finding his face going into a cold glare. "And what does it matter to you?" He had decided that he didn't like this one at all. "You do not appear to be anyone of authority over me, just a great ape."
The crew laughed again, some at the humor they found in the remark and some at the fact that it was an affront to this "ape." But the man did not find this of good comedy at all. He stood and, stomping ferociously as he went, approached Will and glared at him as savagely as he could. "Wha' d'you say?" the man growled.
Normally, the person standing before him would have been very intimidated and even frightened, but Will didn't even flinch with the smallest amount of fear. With Will Turner, there are some buttons you just don't push, and this man had pushed a bit red one labeled in flashing, yellow letters. Will wasn't in the least bit frightened- he was angry. He had been provoked. "I said you're an ape. But I apologize," Will sweetly stated, with a small smile and a wince. "I was completely wrong to call you such a thing."
"Darn right ye were," the man growled, his head doing a strange bob as he stared at Will with it stuck out straight, chewing his tobacco noisily.
"You are, in no way, an ape," Will continued, glancing a bit disgustedly at the man's mouth.
The man grunted in approval.
"You are, without a doubt," Will paused and then grinned partly maliciously and partly amused- this was oh, so Jack- "the greatest cow I have ever seen."
Now it became apparent that this man had no control over his temper whatsoever. He went furious. In fact, he exploded and made a very good imitation of that ape Will called him. He grabbed Will harshly by the shoulders, lifted him over his head and slammed him hard against the ship's rail with an awful roar. Then he drew his sword.
Will banged his head against the rail quite harshly, but he shook his head and managed to shake it off. That was very unexpected. He saw the man, blood written in his eyes, running toward him with his sword in the air in what seemed to be slow motion. 'Whoa.…' he thought, a bit too far from reality for his own personal safety. His head was spinning a bit and the ship was rocking in a way that ships don't normally rock. But his wits started to come about him as the man stood two feet away from him, and his mind spoke: 'You're in danger, William!' He rolled to his left just as the sword came down on where he would have been and buried itself in the ship's wood rather than Will's flesh.
Will stumbled to his feet and, beginning to get his mind cleared up again, looked about him for a weapon or something to defend himself. The crew had gathered around them in a tight circle, preventing him from making use of a tool of any sorts. 'Oh, well- time to be pirate!' He turned around and grabbed a sword from the pirate closest to him ("Hey!") as his opponent managed to yank his sword out of the ship's rail. He frowned as he weighed the weapon in his hand- it wasn't very well balanced at all. Will gripped his sword firmly as the man began to run towards him, more wrathful than ever.
Their swords connected with a force that made them spring back again. The shock from the blow threw Will off balance and shook his limbs for a moment, but Will wasn't an amateur when it came to sword fights and was able to turn the tables with ease. He closed off the world about him and focused on the feel of his sword and the movements of his opponent. Before the man could attack again, Will slashed back at the man's right hip 'causing him to jump back. Will smirked. The man was throwing so much force into his attacks that it took more time to recover and retaliate. Speed- that was his weakness. With velocity quick as lightning he was able to swing again at the man's left side of his neck.
Will swashed, he buckled, parried, feinted and thrust with such precision and celerity, that it wasn't long before, as a little warning, he simply diced the bandolier that the man had strapped across his chest in two, while leaving his opponent unscathed.
The surrounding crowd went completely silent as the man looked down at his chest- absent of its oranament- completely gobsmacked and then back at Will, who quietly raised his sword to an en garde position with a humbly focused expression adorning his countenance. Oh yes, Will was a very worthy opponent- the kid was good.
Will was beginning to sense a strong amount of doubt in the man's attitude. The man stared at him for a while, unmoving and Will couldn't help but smirk a bit. He had really left an impression. Suddenly the man erupted in another wave of wrath as he abandoned his sword, cut through the crowd and picked up a large nearby barrel, throwing it with a powerful force at Will.
It came with such coercion and speed that Will didn't have time to duck. It connected with the young blacksmith and pinned him back against the mainstay. The crew, who was obviously rooting for this robust sailor, swarmed Will and, picking him up, shoved him into the care of his opponent. 'Oh, yeah! Thanks a lot, guys!'
The man slugged Will a good one across the face, causing his head to snap back as he stumbled backwards. He shook his head as he tasted blood even stronger than before and a sharp pain in his nose. The man grabbed him and threw him again.
He landed on his backside and managed to slide a bit and evade harm. He had found his "sea bottom." He wiped his mouth with his hand and found it covered in blood, with small specks of blood on his shirt as well. His nose must've been bleeding. The man began approaching him again, laughing and pointing in ridicule at Will. Now it was Will's turn to get angry. It may have been true that he brought this upon himself, but this man had gone far over the top in his vehemence.
He waited for the man to come close enough and then kicked him where it counts yet again, quickly scurrying under the man's towering legs to make an escape. But the crew wouldn't let him run. They obviously enjoyed this fight to allow it to end from one of the fighters running away. They grabbed him and pushed him back into the fight that he never intended to start. The man, back on his feet again, grabbed him by the neck with one hand and lifted him up high.
"Yer gonna pay fer that, yeh are," the man growled as he began to squeeze his throat in his massive hands. Will immediately could feel his air supply be cut off, but not only that- his blood was stopped from moving. With every beat of his rapidly pumping blood his head became more hot, heavy and eventually dizzy. Buh-boom, buh-boom, buh-boom…. The beating of his frantic heart rang louder and louder in his ears, causing his head to throb. His lungs began to burn, screaming for air. He needed to breathe. He clutched at the man's wrists, instinctively trying to make him loosen his grip- to stop his suffering. He gasped and choked but nothing would come. His neck began to hurt and the dizziness was enveloping him. He couldn't focus. What was he doing again? Oh, yeah! He needed to get out of the man's grip- but he was weak. He just wanted it to stop. Just stop, without any struggle. The man laughed. His was head throbbing, lungs burning and aching, vision failing… fading.…
'Elizabeth.…'
Author's Notes: Ah, cliff-hangers. Don't you love 'em? (Winks) If you liked this chapter- sorry for cuttin' it off short, if you didn't like it- sorry it ended it up so shabby. But hey! I got it done a lot faster than I expected.... I hope the chapter isn't lacking.
Anyways. The usual. What did you think? Do you hate me for my Will Turner Bash Fest? Please don't! FYI, I have absolutely nothing against Will Turner/Elizabeth Swann. I love 'em. Probably my favorite on-screen couple. I do have a lot against Will/Jack slash, though- that's just wrong. But I digress. I don't hate Will and I'm not trying to abuse him. It's just for the story.
You guys, I'm touched by your reviews. Keep it up! It's what keeps me typing when I'm not in the mood for it. -
Jules- Thank you so much for the heads up on those too- er- two mistakes. (Winks) I'm rather nit-picky about grammar and stuff, so I don't mind at all. I must have overlooked them in my rush to get the chapter posted. And thanks for your re-formatting suggestion. I'm glad you liked the salutation line. I didn't think it would be that funny, but have gotten more than one compliment on that specific joke, so I guess it is! If you like this, I repeat: read "The Curse of the White Sword" and "The Measure of a Man." (Sighs like being in love) Works of art, I swear- although unfinished. Grr....
Ila- I'm glad you LOVE this. I'm very, very, very flattered.Will's in the chapter. Sorry to push you further on the edge of your seat. I'll try to update soon!
Moxie D. Turner- Yay!!! A Bootstrap fan! Glad you like him and his relationship/similarites with Will.
OpraNoodlemantra- Murtogg and Mullroy. Thank you.
ElvenRanger13- No, I didn't kill Will... yet. J/K. Unfortunately, I can't make any promises about keeping certain characters alive. He may be safe, he may not be. But, don't worry, he'll have a moment of spotlight beforehand, should he die.
Peace out!
Jack E.