Disclaimer: The characters and concepts in this story pertaining to the movie The Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl are the property of the Walt Disney Corporation. This is an amateur writing effort meant for entertainment purposes only.
Chapter Eighteen: Heart Shaped Box
William hesitated before knocking. What business was it of his if she and Jack were fighting? She had her reasons, Jack had his. Telling him didn't do either party any good. It just turned him into the middle man, and he disliked that position more than being uninvolved.
But he felt guilty about leaving them both in a snit. Jack had retreated to the galley to finish off his bottles of wine alone while Morgan had stowed away in her cabin, their familial bond shattered yet again by some petty argument over the sails. From what William could gather neither of them seemed very keen on reconciliations. Whatever had happened was in the past, and they intended on keeping it that way.
Still, he thought to himself, nobody should have to live like this.
And so he knocked, not really expecting an answer, but received one anyways. "Come in," she said. Will gathered his strength and did as she requested.
She was sitting on the ledge running the length of the opposite wall, staring out the tiny windows at the dark ocean beneath her. The storm was still raging and rain splattered along the glass yet she hardly noticed.
"I'm not going to bite you, Mister Turner. Either come in or go out, but you're letting in an awful lot of cold air."
"Sorry," he said, closing the door.
"Not at all," she replied. She still hadn't looked at him. "I'm sorry things weren't more amicable on board. It's certainly not fair to you."
She finally looked at him. Her wet lingerie hung from thin cords along the right wall, dripping water to floor, and she had changed into her men's clothing once more, finally looking the role of a pirate. The navy blue coat was older and weather worn, worth pittance compared to the outfit she'd attended dinner in. Her chestnut curls were pulled back in a messy bun, tied in a black ribbon to keep it out of her face.
"You can come closer, you know. None of this is about you, William, of that I can assure you."
He strode forward, cautiously, watching her expression very carefully. Her eyes fell upon him again and they seemed to light up, gleaming with a sad sort of happiness.
She sensed herself blushing again and looked away, staring down at the ledge beneath her. A book lay open to her left, face down to hold the page, weathered from the amount of times she'd read it. A small container of snuff sat next to it, partially open, and the air around them was still filled with the lingering fragrance of powdered tobacco.
William said nothing. Snuff wasn't unheard of in the Caribbean. What had once started as a habit of nobilities had become common amongst the working class as well, and it wasn't unusual to see the Swann's or their kitchen staff sniffing small pinches of it occasionally. Although most of Elizabeth's uncles turned to pipe or cigar smoking upon arrival, he still knew snuff was a favourite. It smelled better.
She noticed his gaze and recapped the snuff nervously. "Your father never approved," she said at last with a small smile. "He didn't think it was right for a woman."
"What was he like?" he asked, after a million questions suddenly popped into his mind. He never had the chance to talk to Jack about his father, so any source of information was a blessing.
Morgan leapt off her ledge and went immediately to her luggage, fumbled inside of it, and then pulled a wooden box from inside of it. She handed it to him.
Will hesitated, not sure what he would find inside. His experience with pirates told him it could be practically anything. But Morgan shook it, insisting that he take a peek. He took it and lifted the lid, setting it atop the ledge so he could use both his hands to look around.
It was dark in that corner of the cabin, but he could make out the objects inside quite clearly. A single piece of expensive parchment was folded in the corner, bound in butcher's cord. Modest pieces of men's jewelry clanked against the sides.
He grinned for a moment with the same melancholic undertones as she. His fingers toyed anxiously with the butcher's cord in the corner of the box, until he could bear it no longer. He untied the parchment, unfolding it eagerly. It was a drawing of a man, presumably William Turner Sr. seated placidly on the deck of a ship, cradling a piece of paper in his hands.
"He always said he looked better on paper than he did in life," she said.
"You drew this?" he asked.
Morgan nodded. Will was transfixed. He understood now why so many pirates had nervous breakdowns around him. Bootstrap did look surprisingly similar to him – the same jaw and nose, the same thing lips and black curls. The only startling difference was their eyes. Bootstrap's were larger, rounder, and less pointed, while Will's were slightly slanted and slender. Your mother's eyes, he thought to himself, running his fingers over the drawing.
His eyes blurred in and out of focus as tears formed at the edge of his vision. Trying to regain his composure, he brushed them away, and was about to fold the picture once again when he noticed something.
The coat Bootstrap was wearing in the picture was startlingly familiar, even though it was fairly ambiguous. The dark material and distinctive clasps jogged Will's memory to the one he'd borrowed from Morgan. Sure enough, when he looked down, it was like looking in a mirror: he was wearing his father's coat.
He looked to Morgan, whose smile was disappearing the more she stared at him. His glance seemed to snap her out of her reverie, however, and she looked away.
"I was essentially orphaned when I was four," she began. "Not that having parents would have made my life any different. A girl in Tortuga is only destined for one path, Will, one that I didn't care for even when I couldn't understand the meaning of the word 'whore'. I decided early on that if I was ever to survive in life by respectable means I had to be a boy instead. So I stole some clothes off one of the tavern boys, cut my hair, and offered myself up to any captain passing through." She gave a small laugh. "I got myself hit one too many times, but I didn't care. I wanted off that bloody island. I wanted to go home."
"Where was Jack?" Will asked, eyes narrowed. Surely Jack wouldn't have left his four year old sister to fend for herself?
"My father had taken him away after my mother died. He was a tall boy, a strong boy, someone who could manage the hard labour. But I was girl, and a scrawny one at that, meant to sell myself for pittance. So my father left me with the women of Tortuga and sailed off. I never saw Jack again till now."
The pieces of Morgan's puzzle were suddenly coming into place. No wonder she harboured so much resentment for Jack. Will understood abandonment; he understood how easy it was to blame people for it. In the wake of his mother's death, he had cursed the world and everyone in it: the doctors who refused to help because they couldn't afford it; the bankers who wouldn't loan him the money for a burial because he was a child; the minister who refused to deliver a sermon because his mother was a Catholic. Just when he needed someone, the world had been shutting him out. Morgan must have felt the same way.
"It was your father who eventually took me on. I was seven at the time, and I sailed with him as his cabin boy till I was ten."
"Why'd you leave?"
"The Caribbean was never my home, Will. I wanted to go to London, live in the city…become something - anything besides a pirate. So, I spoke to your father, and he sold me off to another pirate – a female one this time, pure-blood Italian – who called herself Rain. She and I cut a deal. I would go to school on her funds until I graduated with a degree, and then I would pay back every cent of with my earnings and interest of course. The amount was astronomical, but in the end, I didn't have a choice. I could have stayed with your father and been a pirate for the rest of my days, or get a respectable job that was leaps and bounds above my class. And all I had to do was behave like a man, which wasn't difficult after growing up with them for so long.
"Rain was a woman of high tastes. She taught me manners, grace, and etiquette; I learned how to speak proper English and Italian. She taught me how to fence and fire a pistol and ride a horse…everything I would need to fool people into thinking I was of aristocratic birth. By the time I arrived at St. Eustace's – the school I went to – I had become a completely different person: Andrew William Morgan."
"And it worked? They believed you?"
"Of course they did. The school was more concerned with the amount of money Rain paid in order for me to attend. She had come from a long line of Italian nobility and inherited a fortune so large she could have enrolled a chimpanzee if she wanted to and they wouldn't have questioned her judgment.
"Nine years later I graduated from Oxford with a degree in Medicine. Rain ordered that I pay off my debt as her surgeon and being that she had spilled at least two fortunes into my schooling, I could not refuse. And her travels were taking us back here, so I thought it a good opportunity to thank your father for his kindness.
"But when I returned, the Caribbean had changed. And by the time I found your father, he was marked for death."
She fell silent. Her story had come to an end, it seemed, and William didn't try and press her. He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to know the rest. After all, what followed was Bootstrap's murder at the hands of the crew of the Black Pearl.
"I loved him like a father, Will," she whispered as if her words were a scandalous confession. "I would have died to save him. He just never gave me that option."
She patted him on the arm.
"He was a good man. One of the best men I've ever known."
"I wish I'd known him," he replied.
Silence followed, one that no longer felt so uncomfortable. William stared into the hand drawn features of his long dead father and felt the pains of envy creeping throughout his chest. Everyone else had gotten to know the elusive Bootstrap Bill but him. Jack looked to him as a comrade, Morgan looked to him as a father, and Will...well, he couldn't really see his father as anything but a drawing.
He folded up the parchment again and placed it back inside the box. He closed the lid and handed it back to Morgan. "Here," he said, "It's yours."
"Oh no," she replied, pushing it back towards him. "It's yours. Those were the last of your father's worldly belongings. He would have wanted you to have them, Mr. Turner, not I."
Will felt his heart sink. "They're yours."
She shook her head. "He wasn't my father, Mr. Turner, he was your father. And it pained him to have never known you. There's nothing in that box I need to keep, but there are things in there I think you do."
He glanced from the box back to her. She smiled at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears as she gazed upon him, the spitting image of a man she had once looked to as a father.
Author's Notes
I can promise everyone: the relationship that develops between William and Morgan is purely friendship. From a technical aspect, Morgan not only encourages the development of Jack – though in a lesser sense, he seems pretty content with the way he is now – and also, using her as a foil to Will's character. But that's later on. Just remember that Will + Morgan friends.
Reviews:
JackFan2: I totally agree with you about Jack and Ana. She's such a fierce character that it's a miracle she and Jack get along so well. And she's a lot of fun to write for! Kind of like a overbearing mother to Jack's free-for-all spirit.
No, I'm not planning anything romantic between Will and Morgan. I am a true believer in cononicity as well, so I'm going to leave Will and Elizabeth to one another. Morgan's affections for him stem from the fact thatWilliam was Bootstrap's child, and she could never have that type of bond with him. Will and Elizabeth are completely canon, so I won't mess with that.
You have every right to be overly critical. I don't want to mess anything up, so comments regarding my characterizations are always appreciated.
No worries about the reviews! Anytime you can get around to doing it is lovely!
Talk to you later! Thanks for reviewing!