A/N: WOOT WOOT!I know what you're all thinking, and I quite agree—'bout dang time, eh? I am so, so, SO SORRY for making you wait like this! I just had a dreadful time getting some of the more emotional scenes on paper. I couldn't quite work out what would be going through everyone's head. There may yet be more revisions, but I've at least gotten to the point where I think this chapter is fit to be posted.
As always, constructive criticism and reviews are received with much squealing, especially this time. PLEASE give me your thoughts on the momentous reunion—you know which. I'm still not altogether sure that I'm happy with it, and your opinions would be much appreciated. You'll be glad to hear we're reaching the end of this tale very soon, so without a moment's wait longer…
Chapter Eight: Opportune Moments
Elizabeth appeared at Will's elbow. "Jack, what—"
"Later, love!"
"Ahoy there, Jack!" Barbossa roared at them, his grin wicked. "Fancy meeting you here! Figures you'd have the white sword!"
As usual, if Jack was at all startled, he did not show it. Cupping his hands over his mouth, he shouted, "Love to chat about old times, mate, but I'm afraid we've got to send you back to the depths. Where's our old mate Copperhead?"
"He's over dealing with your Royal Navy friends! But I'll be glad to accept the sword for him!"
"Sorry, old boy, but we're to hand this pretty thing off to him who owns it!" called Jack. He handed the sword to Will again, just as shouts rang out on the deck.
Will spun around. "They're boarding!"
Like so many scuttling crabs, pirates scurried over the hull and onto the deck, having swam or walked or rowed over to the Pearl under cover of the cannon battle. Jack grimaced; that was the closest he ever came to demonstrating any real alarm. "Sailed us into quite a pickle, I have. Take 'em, men, and Will, don't lose that sword! We've got to get it aboard the Bloodstone!"
Will pushed a musket into Elizabeth's hands and charged down the deck, drawing the sword. There were so many pirates swarming aboard, and if they were anything like Barbossa, they couldn't die. He ducked the swing of a small hand axe from one man and slashed back with the white sword, then scrambled to the rail they were climbing over, pushing, stabbing, and punching to throw them off again. There were dozens, swimming and rowing over from Barbossa and Copperhead's own little fleet. This was not good.
Anamaria stumbled into him after flinging yet another man overboard. Her sex made some sailors think her an easy target, but her agility and nimble skill as both a sailor and pirate reminded Will of a mongoose sometimes. She could duck a man's blows and send him flying into the sea with a few well-placed punches of her own before the poor blokes realized what they were dealing with. "Think Jack may've made a mistake," she grunted as they detached a grappling hook from the rail despite the weight of the men climbing it.
"We'll manage," Will replied. "Duck!" He shot another pirate right in the face, but all it served to do was phase the man long enough for them to get him over the side. They were still swarming up to the Pearl like locusts. He wanted to see if Elizabeth was all right, but didn't dare leave this spot now.
"What happens if they get the white sword?" asked Anamaria.
Will shot at the hull of one of the approaching ships, trying to sink it. "I don't know."
"Aye, and I doubt Jack does either! Fine mess this is!" Anamaria aimed her gun at another, smaller approaching ship. "More company!"
Will hesitated; this ship looked different. What was—the sails! They were intact! "Wait!" he grabbed Anamaria's arm. "It's the Lady Laurel!"
The crew of the Laurel was in as much a frenzy as the Pearl's, trying to hold off the dead sailors while sailing still closer. Will saw Captain Willem at the helm, steering the small flute, and suddenly it dawned on him what their aim was: to come between the Black Pearl and the other ships!
Atticus Willem would save Jack Sparrow's ship at the cost of his own.
Anamaria and the others had realized the same thing. "He's mad!" said Gibbs. "They're done for!"
"Get lines!" cried Will. "We'll bring his crew over to the Pearl! With this many men we may just hold them off!"
Either Jack's crew agreed with that assessment, or Will was held in higher esteem among them than he had realized, for they obeyed him without hesitating. Captain Willem ordered his crew to abandon ship, and they scrambled over to the dubious safety of the Pearl as dead salors swamped the Laurel.
Willem was the last. "Hello again, young Will. Have a torch handy?"
"A torch?"
"Aye, lad, quick now!" The dead sailors were crossing the Laurel's deck, aiming to reach the Pearl next.
On Will's order, a torch was lit, and Captain Willem hurled it onto the Lady Laurel's deck, literally at the feet of their attackers. Flames roared to life, spreading with astonishing speed across the wood, and the dead sailors leapt for safety. "We emptied a few barrels of grog and rum over the deck as we approached," said Willem. "Poor old Laurel."
"That won't hold 'em long," said Anamaria. "We gotta get the sword to the Bloodstone!"
"If this Copperhead's aboard the Dauntless, perhaps seeing the sword will draw him back to the Bloodstone," said Will.
"Don't be absurd, lad!" snapped Atticus. "Nobody would last five minutes on the deck of the Bloodstone among that lot! It's suicide!"
"All I have to do is get Copperhead's attention!" Will protested. "It's what he's searching for, after all!"
"Boy's right, we'll be safe once the sea takes her own back," said Gibbs.
"If you go over there, he'll kill you, Will!" cried Atticus, startling them with his resistance.
A blast from the Dauntless's cannon startled all of them, sending them scattering across the deck to see what new mischief was afoot.
Jack wrestled to maneuver the Pearl around the Bloodstone to the aid of the embattled Navy vessel, but Barbossa had guessed the gambit and was keeping them from reaching the Dauntless. Where old Copperhead was, Jack could only guess. If that pirate hadn't come out here with the Bloodstone, then they had themselves a serious problem.
Down the deck, his crew seemed to be holding their own against the long-dead victims of the Isla de la Muerta Passage, but it wouldn't last much longer if the Pearl couldn't get rid of the white sword and get herself out of range of the other ships. "Get those bloody dogs overboard!" he bellowed.
Swords flashed in the sunlight, and the sounds of shouting and blows were his only answer—the crew were too occupied to pay him much mind at the moment.
"Sloppy discipline, Jack, sloppy discipline!"
A familiar voice behind startled Jack for only a few moments. Well. He really should have expected this, along with the point of a sword against his back. He turned slowly around, allowing the voice's owner to transfer the sword tip from his back to his chest, directly over the heart. "What can I say, Copperhead, old boy! You always did run a tighter ship than me. Too bad it wasn't tight enough to manage the Isla de la Muerta Passage, eh?"
"And now I've a second chance at it, eh, mate?" Old Copperhead looked just as Jack remembered him. He too had a taste for big hats, and under it, his hair and beard were a coppery red, hence his popular nickname. "Redbeard was taken," his crew liked to say, but it wasn't as if "Copperhead" didn't suit the old water snake. He was—or he had been—older than Barbossa, but he was as cunning and sharp as he'd been in the heyday of Henry Morgan—before Morgan had gone legitimate.
Over the smirking Copperhead's shoulder, Jack could see Will watching them. The boy knew at once who Jack's assailant was, and Jack saw him slip away. Good lad. We've got to get him back to the Bloodstone along with his sword.
Will ducked through the struggling bodies to the side nearest the Bloodstone and jumped overboard. Jack grimaced to himself; "Atticus" would throw a fit if the boy took a hurt while under Jack's charge. Still, Jack at the moment was staring down a rather sadistic dead pirate's sword while his ship was being boarded, so they didn't have many options left.
Just don't do anything stupid, lad!
Nobody even saw Will strike the water because so many other people were being tossed overboard. With the Bloodstone in pursuit, it was easy enough to snag a long line dangling from the side and shimmy up.
The pirate that had just cornered Jack had to be Copperhead; Will had sensed it immediately. If he could just get aboard and flag the treacherous man down, he'd probably drop everything to return to his precious white sword. What would happen once sword and owner were back aboard the Bloodstone, Will wasn't precisely certain, but he could only hope he would have time to leap for safety before the sea reclaimed her own.
From the sounds above him on deck as he climbed up, only the crew needed to steer the big ship remained aboard, while the rest were now concentrating on harrying the Black Pearl. With the white sword hanging from his hip—for the last time, Will thought with a pang—he scrambled up the side. If he could just reach the quarter deck unseen for enough time to get Copperhead's attention, he could evade the pirates for as long as it took the Bloodstone's captain to return. Of course, contending with Barbossa would be the most difficult. How had that pirate managed to wind up here? Had Hamilton's theft of the sword wakened him as well, back in the cache cave? Will could only wonder.
There was one slight complication to attempting to negotiate the side of this ship when boarding her—she'd been at the bottom of the Caribbean for twelve years! The wood was well-rotted, covered with slime and barnacles, and chunks of it kept breaking off in Will's hands as he struggled toward the deck. Gritting his teeth, he hauled his way up, finally reaching the deck, and grabbed the nose of an unused cannon to swing himself up onto the deck.
Peeking over a stinking, rotten barrel, he saw that they were closing in on the Pearl. He had to hurry. Will kept a wary eye on the main deck and crept across toward the side where he'd be best-exposed to Copperhead—while still in a good position to scramble for his life when the sailors aboard the Bloodstone discovered their still-living stowaway.
His knee crunched through the mushy wood at one point, and he spat a curse, unfastening the sword with one hand while pulling himself free with the other. Just a few more feet, then he just had to jump up and shout to the pirate who was still threatening Jack—
"Oy! What 'ave we here?"
Will rolled frantically over to see two grinning dead pirates, and slashed the sword at them. "I recognize that pretty thing, boy! Don' think it belongs t'you!"
Backing up toward the deck rail, Will said, "Then allow me to restore it to your captain so you can be on your way."
There was a loud thud directly behind him. Will spun around to find himself face-to-face with, as his luck would have it, Barbossa. "Well, well," he said, smirking as he tossed aside the line he'd swung from. "Mr. Turner, no less! Welcome aboard my ship—again!"
Will had no time to even think of a response before a terrific blow to the back of his head sent him dropping into blackness.
"Jack!" Elizabeth cried, seeing the pirate menacing the captain, and rushed back toward the helm.
Copperhead stepped to one side, though he kept his sword at Jack's chest. "No closer if you please, missy! My, my, Jack, got yerself some pretty crewmen!" To Elizabeth, he called, "Yer Captain Jack's got something of mine, love! Be a nice lass and hand it over, and I'll think about sparin' his life!"
Elizabeth looked frantically around. "Will!" Where was he? They needed that sword, where had he gone?! He couldn't be…
"Ahoy there, Black Pearl!"
A shout from Barbossa brought the fighting to a halt, as by now the dead pirates had seen their captain aboard the Pearl and Barbossa apparently commanding the Bloodstone. Copperhead grinned over at Barbossa. "Ahoy there, mate! Look at the bird I've caught meself!"
"A nice catch, I grant you! Why don't you keep him!"
"I reckon I might do that!" Copperhead laughed, pointing a pistol at Jack's head for good measure. "Any luck finding my sword?"
"Aye, Captain, I've found you better than that!" Barbossa gave a wave of his hand, and three dead pirates hauled a bound man into view upon the Bloodstone's deck.
Elizabeth lunged to the side of the Pearl. "Will!"
The Bloodstone had stopped its pursuit and came no closer, but Elizabeth could see Will's face, particularly the blood on his temple, and the furious expression at being held captive by Barbossa of all people yet again. Copperhead's laugh caused her to glance up at the helm. "And who's that lad? Looks a bit familiar!" He suddenly grinned down the deck right at Elizabeth. "Must be an interest to the lady—God knows she wouldn't be aboard this ship for the likes of you, Jack!" He jabbed Jack with the pistol, then said, "I think perhaps an exchange, mate? The boy for my sword? Where've you stashed it."
Barbossa's laugh brought their gazes back to the Bloodstone. "No need for bargains, Captain! See what the lad brought over with him?" He held the white sword aloft, letting the sunlight flash across its pearl length.
"Ah!" Copperhead grinned broadly. "Much obliged to you, son, for bringing my treasure back! Well, Barbossa, shall I bring our mate Jack back with me to reminisce 'bout the olden days?"
Barbossa's sly smile brought Elizabeth's guard up, and should have brought up Copperhead's seeing as how it was directed at him. But then a voice from near Elizabeth shouted, "Let the boy go!"
The look on the old mutineer's face was one of total disbelief, followed very swiftly by absolute loathing. Handing the sword to one of the other pirates, he leaned forward on the Bloodstone's deck as though desiring to reach across the span of sea between them and take Atticus Willem's neck in his hands.
The surrounding ships were so deathly quiet that his hissing growl was heard clearly even over the distance. It was the growl of a name as though it were a curse—which, to Barbossa, it was: "Bootstrap!"
"What?!" Elizabeth exclaimed, along with several of the rest of the crew.
Aboard the Bloodstone, Will's jaw dropped, and he seemed to forget his own situation in enemy hands as his wide, astonished eyes bridged the distance between himself and the man standing on the Black Pearl's deck, looking back at him. His lips moved, and they all knew what he whispered. "Bootstrap?"
Above them, they heard Jack mutter, "You should've told him when you had the chance, mate."
The man Elizabeth now realized was none other than Bootstrap Bill Turner stood coldly at the deck rail. He ignored everyone else, glancing only briefly at Will himself before saying to Barbossa, "I know you still want your revenge, Barbossa. Let the boy go, and you can have me. I'll come over along with your captain."
Barbossa looked more incensed than Elizabeth had ever seen him. Had he indeed been a thing of hell, his stare would have set the elder William Turner ablaze. Then a slow smirk spread across his face, making a chill run down Elizabeth's spine despite the late spring sun. "That's a handsome offer, but you've made a slight error! I'm captain of this ship!"
Copperhead Wellings lost his smile, and all interest in Jack. "Barbossa, what the hell are you—"
With a shove that sent Will sprawling onto the Bloodstone's deck, Barbossa grabbed the rotting deck rail. "I know how this old curse works, Bootstrap! Once the white sword and her owner are back together aboard this ship, the sea will drag us all back to the deep! You, Jack, and your brat took my chance for life away once, and I don't mean to lose it again. Sorry, Copperhead, old friend, but I'm afraid I'll have to make off with your ship! See?" Laughing, he held up a chain around his neck, and sunlight now glinted off the cursed Aztec medallion. "Back to Isla de la Muerta she goes, and I'll finally be free of both curses! Hoist anchor!" he roared at the other sailors. "Loose the topsails! Ahead full speed!"
"Barbossa, you traitorous dog!" Copperhead roared, dropping both pistol and sword and leaping across the deck in fury.
"Here!" Jack shouted, and threw the dead pirate a long line. Copperhead swung out toward the Bloodstone, but the ship was already moving away. "Hoist anchor, you lot!" he shouted at the crew. "After her!"
With a enraged shout, Copperhead struck the water and began swimming furiously after his ship. "That's my ship! You filthy bastard! That's my ship!"
"I know how the poor bloke feels," sighed Jack, putting Gibbs on the wheel.
"What about Will?" Elizabeth cried.
"Don't worry, we'll catch her. Sea may be on her side, but Bloodstone's in poor shape. Wind'll bear us after her," said Jack. He patted Bootstrap on the shoulder. "We'll get him back, mate."
"Look!" Anamaria pointed back at the other ship.
Barbossa was dragging Will back into their view, grinning straight at the young man's father. "Will," whispered Bootstrap. "My God…" Elizabeth knew what the poor man was thinking: his son was going to be made to pay for Barbossa's grievance.
"You're right about that revenge, Bootstrap!" Barbossa roared back at them as the ship sailed on, and Copperhead swam after them. "And I can't think of a more perfect way to get it!"
"Your quarrel's with me, Barbossa!" Turner shouted frantically, but muttered under his breath, "Sweet Jesus!"
Elizabeth no longer looked anywhere but Will's face. Something had changed—he now looked terrified. His face was pallid, and his gaze flicked back and forth from her to his father. His lips were moving fast—was he praying. Elizabeth's heart was hammered furiously against her chest; what was Barbossa planning to do to him? She didn't know…
Will's father did. He knew all too well. Barbossa and the other pirates dragged Will to the side, their intention obviously to put him overboard. It wasn't until Elizabeth saw the small-but-heavy deck gun chained to Will's feet that she put it all together. "Oh my God!" she screamed, nearly jumping overboard herself but for Jack grabbing her arms. "No! Will, please, no!"
He'd drown. There would be no saving him. It was taking two pirates just to lug the gun along with their victim to the edge. Will's terrified gaze was now fixed on his father, as though pleading for the man who had passed who-knew-how-many years below the sea before escaping could somehow free him now. Barbossa grinned as they got their captive to the edge of the ship. "A poetic finish, you must agree, Bootstrap! Don't fret—his torment'll be a lot shorter than yours, eh? No curse to keep this one breathing underwater! Sorry, Father Turner, no time for fond farewells! Look your last upon your son!"
Will could only gasp, and Elizabeth could only scream as Barbossa shoved him, at the same time as the pirates released the gun, flinging both over the side of the Bloodstone. The splash of the gun upon the water was huge, and Will was pulled down with it, vanishing without even a chance to struggle. All Elizabeth could do was scream and struggle vainly against Jack, who was contending both with her and Will's equally-distraught father.
"Stop it, both of you!" Jack sent Elizabeth careening into two crewmen's arms and concentrating on holding Bootstrap back. "Can't do anything for him this way! Lower the anchor! Yeah, you heard me, lower the bloody, sodding anchor!"
The crew did as they were ordered. The anchor plunged down, but Anamaria said, "Jack, the lad'll never manage to get to the anchor in time, even if the gun's made light by the water."
"I know that, love, I know!" Jack grunted, glaring over the side. "OY! COPPERHEAD!" The Bloodstone's captain was still swimming after his ship, but though he didn't tire as a living man would have done, he simply couldn't catch her. Spitting furiously, the pirate turned in the water. "CARE FOR A LIFT?! WE'LL GLADLY CHASE 'ER DOWN FOR YOU!"
"IN EXCHANGE FOR WHAT?!" Copperhead shouted back.
"GIVE THAT BOY DOWN THERE A HAND OVER TO THE ANCHOR AND WE'LL HOIST YOU UP!"
"There's not much time!" Elizabeth whispered.
"WHY SHOULD I TRUST YOU?!"
Jack snorted. "BECAUSE, MATE, UNLIKE BARBOSSA, I'VE NEVER BROKEN MY WORD, REMEMBER?! AND I DON'T WANT THE OLD BASTARD LOOSE ON THE SEAS AGAIN! GET THE BOY BACK FOR US AND WE'LL GET YOUR SHIP BACK!"
The seconds seemed to last an eternity as the two pirate captains locked gazes, one treading water, the other on the deck of his own ship. At last, Copperhead scowled at Jack, then dove beneath the surface. Elizabeth stifled a sob.
Yes, Copperhead Wellings supposed as he swam toward the sea bottom, Jack Sparrow was a man of his word. In the past, he and Barbossa had always used that knowledge as something to be exploited—a weakness. But, he had to admit, it had its advantages. Good bargaining tool, oddly enough.
The sea here was still relatively shallow; they weren't all that far from the reefs surrounding Isla de la Muerta. He didn't have to look far to find the figure struggling futilely against the chains holding his feet to a deck gun. Boy was keeping his wits—obviously could hold his breath for a good spell—but he'd start panicking pretty quick once his strength started to wane. Copperhead paddled toward him, gauging the distance between the gun and the anchor.
The lad was already beginning to claw at the water helplessly, but when he looked back at feeling the gun move, he panicked at the sight of Copperhead. With an irritated gurgle, Copperhead pointed at the anchor, and the boy's sense returned—for what time he had left. Turner's son swam frantically toward the Black Pearl's anchor as Copperhead lumbered awkwardly behind—he could move the gun, but it was still dashed heavy!
Young Turner wrapped his body around the anchor as best he could, tugging vainly at the chain holding his boots to the gun. Barbossa always had a wicked sense of humor. Getting the gun to the anchor was difficult enough, with the boy jolting at the chain as his lack of air grew increasingly desperate, but keeping it on the anchor so it wouldn't fall and drag the boy down again was still another chore.
Grunting in a fashion that sent bubbles churning up and obscuring his view, Copperhead wrestled the gun into position. He had to set it so that it straddled across the two curves of the anchor—a difficult task even for a pirate who felt neither pain nor strange. Damned heavy thing!
At last, he got it into position where he felt it wouldn't go sliding off halfway to the surface, and reached up to tug the chain, only to find that the boy was drifting, limp and still, his arms floating loose in the current. Now he'd go sliding off at a moment's movement! Copperhead grabbed him irritably, hoping he wasn't already dead, and jerked vigorously on the anchor chain, signaling the Pearl's crew to hoist them up.
"That's it! Heave! Heave!" Adding their efforts to the crank, the crew hauled the chain up hand over hand, and Elizabeth and the elder Mr. Turner hovered over the deck rail, reduced to waiting.
Elizabeth had never imagined that a ship's anchor chain could be so long.
At last… "There!" Two figures burst from the water, wrapped around the anchor itself, with a deck gun draped across the bottom of the anchor. "Grab that thing!"
Two of the crew caught the gun to keep it from slipping, and Elizabeth saw a red-haired man growling curses at them, then her heart leapt to her throat at the sight of the other figure, hanging limply in Copperhead Wellings' grasp. "Will!"
"Take him!" shouted Copperhead.
The crew maneuvered the unconscious young man onto the deck, shoving the gun up after him because it was still chained to his boots. Elizabeth was nearly knocked off her feet by Bootstrap's passage; he leapt past her and fell to Will's side. "Not breathing!" said Anamaria.
"Move!" Bootstrap ordered and lifted Will's head. "Don't you die on me now, boy," he muttered. Propping Will up, he made Elizabeth yelp by jabbing the young man in the stomach, right below the ribs, once, twice, three times, then harder, until Will's eyes flew open, and he doubled over, coughing up lungfulls of water.
The violent fit of coughing that followed lasted several minutes, and only when it passed could Will wipe his hair from his eyes and take stock of his surroundings. Blinking dazedly for a moment at Elizabeth, he looked up to suddenly realize whose chest he was cradled in a sitting position against. His voice was a hoarse whisper. "Father?"
Elizabeth now could not believe she had not instantly noticed the resemblance between Will and "Atticus Willem." For one thing, their eyes were very alike, and now the look in the elder Turner's eyes as he gazed into Will's face brought tears to her own. She saw awe there, and wondered if Will was what his father had expected, but also relief, anxiety, and, to her surprise, remorse. "Aye, lad," he said in a gruff voice that hid all his eyes had revealed. "Thought I'd lost you."
But nearly drowning in the Caribbean not moments before had robbed Will of his strength to have the interview that must now take place, and his eyes were already losing focus. Not that that stopped him from trying. "Why…didn'…tell me?" he mumbled, his head beginning to loll back.
William Turner cleared his throat. "It didn't seem the proper time. But don't worry about that now, lad, I'm here and so are you. Rest now; you need your strength back." Elizabeth didn't think Will could have argued if he'd wished to, for he almost instantly went limp in his father's arms.
In the heavy silence that followed, only then did Elizabeth realize from the creaking of the rigging and the sound of wind and waves that they were under way again, chasing the Bloodstone. Jack was at the wheel, watching them with an inscrutable look on his face, Copperhead at his side. Then Anamaria and Bolls got to work with knives carefully hacking away at the leather of Will's boots, until they could be freed from his feet. "See if you can get that gun mounted and working," said Jack. "We may need it. William, get your lad below."
William Turner looked up at the helm and slowly smiled. He saluted, "Aye-aye, Captain Sparrow!" then swept Will into his arms and carried him below decks.
Jack grinned rakishly at Elizabeth. "To the rigging with you, love!" Elizabeth's insides were still churning from the nearness of losing Will—and the knowledge of the near-stranger currently caring for him below—but Jack was right. She didn't need to be down there just now. She obeyed Jack's order with a curt nod and concentrated on dealing with the sails, but her mind kept drifting below decks. William Bootstrap Turner, after all he's been through…don't you dare hurt him!
Jack turned to their newest passenger. "Welcome aboard, Copperhead, old mate!" The other pirate glared sourly at him, still staring out at the sea where Barbossa had taken his ship. "Care to tell me how this odd little turn of events came about?"
With a disgusted growl, Copperhead stalked up to the helm. "Sure you know the first part. Some filthy bugger pinched my sword, and we on the Bloodstone found ourselves awake again. Knew we had to get it back. We searched for weeks, to no avail, then one day we felt something stirring back at the Passage." He pulled a face. "Odd, this undead thing. Makes you know things beyond the living world."
"I'll take your word for it," replied Jack. "And what happened back at Isla de la Muerta?"
Copperhead glared at the horizon. "All our old brethren lost there had risen. Every last man, every last ship. And, as it turned out, old Barbossa. He flagged us down from a bluff, and fool that I am, I brought him aboard. He showed me the Aztec gold and told me of the curse, warned me not to touch it. How was I to know he'd already cursed himself again?"
"To keep himself alive in case your curse was lifted," mused Jack, nodding in comprehension. "So…he wormed his old way into your favor and got himself a passage on the Bloodstone?" Copperhead nodded. "And his plan was to get you off the Bloodstone so he could steal both her and the white sword. Probably means to have her repaired, then he's the new captain, sailing the seas on the only ship ever considered a potential match for the Black Pearl. Clever, old Barbossa, even by your usual standards," Jack smiled to himself. Then he turned to Copperhead. "And what are your intentions, old friend?"
Copperhead looked at him as though he were daft. "I want my ruddy ship back, you bleeding idiot!"
"And your sword?"
"That too!"
"And your life?" Jack grinned slightly as Copperhead blinked. "No wish to return from the dead like old Barbossa?"
Copperhead shrugged. "Odd, this vengeful spirit thing. Perhaps it's dulled me interest, but no, not much seems to matter except getting back what's mine."
"Hmm." Jack eyed him, but kept his personal impressions to himself. He glanced behind the Black Pearl and was startled to see a flotilla of sails giving chase. Most were ragged, slogging on through the water as Copperhead's followers fought to keep up with the Pearl, but at least one was full and white. The Dauntless.
This is going to be a very interesting trip!
Below decks, a little while later…
Will's chest hurt. So did his throat. So did his arms and his head…Dear God, did I get drunk last night? He forced his eyes open, but the increase in light did not seem to worsen his apparent hangover.
"Welcome back, lad."
He blinked at the graying man leaning against the wall near his berth—then it all came back. Atticus…Bootstrap…Bill…Turner…
Father.
The pain in his chest and head increased with a burst of adrenaline and nausea as he remembered what had happened. Att—his fa—William Turner seemed to be waiting for Will to get his scattered thoughts together. His dark eyes, so like Will's own—how the devil did I not notice that?!—narrowed in a puzzled frown in response to the way Will stiffened.
Obviously the elder Turner was interpreting his son's reaction as hostility—and he wasn't entirely wrong. "What is it?" he asked Will quietly.
I make a point of avoiding familiarity with pirates. Will watched the older man warily, trying to reconcile him with very vague, blurry memories of childhood. His emotions were spinning around wildly in his chest, making him still more nauseated until he feared he'd be sick, despite his good sea legs. It made his voice reveal a harshness he couldn't seem to help feeling and couldn't begin to explain. "I don't know what you mean, sir."
William—or was it Bootstrap?—tilted his head slightly, as Will himself often did when he was perplexed. "You look troubled."
"Have I no reason to be troubled?" His chest was painfully tight. He wished it would stop, it was making it hard to talk.
His…father's…face softened. It made Will's chest tighter, and he wanted to look away. "I see," he said, very quietly.
Will couldn't stand this. Too much had happened today. Seeing Jack again, finding Elizabeth—Elizabeth!—here, driven to Tortuga by his foolishness, nearly getting drowned by Barbossa of all people—it was too much. He wanted back out on deck, to feel the wind, and let the scent of the sea drive the cotton out of his mind. He needed to clear his head…
Will hastily jumped out of the berth, but made the mistake of landing on the same side that his father was standing on. The cabin was narrow, and now they were much too close together. "I want to go on deck," he croaked.
Taking a step toward him, raising a conciliatory hand, his father said, "Son…"
Will wrenched away. "Don't call me that! What right do you have to call me that?!" he hissed, his voice savage with emotion.
There could be no doubt where Will Turner got his rash, stubborn streak, for his father refused to give way and allow Will to escape. "Forgive me, Will."
"Why should I?" he spat. Of all the emotions churning within him, he chose anger as preferable to the others. Far preferable than some. "All that time…I spent so long…wondering…why should…"
"I couldn't return home after the curse, Will, do use your good sense!" Bootstrap exclaimed, shifting sideways in case his son tried to slip past him.
"And you know bloody well I'm not referring to that! I could forgive you for those ten years, but after…I assumed you…were dead…" Curse that bloody seawater, it was making his throat too tight to talk!
Something intense flashed in Bootstrap's eyes, and he moved again to block Will's path. "I will explain it to you if you care to listen," he said. Will turned his face toward the cabin wall, but made no further attempts to reach the door. William Turner went on, "I escaped the sea and set out at once for home, to warn you and your mother that the crew of the Black Pearl would be searching for the medallion. My intention was to take it and disappear, to live my cursed immortality out somewhere that those treacherous dogs could never find me."
"And what of Mother and me?" Will demanded. "What would have happened to us then?"
"The name of Turner was a danger to you as long as the curse went on; the two of you would have had to leave home and start anew," his father said urgently. Will sighed and closed his eyes, bitterly aware of what the name of Turner had already cost everyone he loved.
"So what happened?" he muttered.
"The curse lifted, of course. I…" his father's suddenly-ragged voice made Will turn around. "What could I assume except that they had found you, and that you…"
Taking slow, deep breaths in a vain attempt to loosen his chest, Will whispered, "You thought I was dead."
Bootstrap nodded. He was silent for several moment, eyes closed, before he continued. "I arrived back in England, hoping to find some trace of your mother, but she was gone as well. There was no one, nothing in England left for me. That's when I returned to the Caribbean, to Tortuga, eventually to get my hands on a ship and hear the tale of Jack Sparrow's return to his own, the Pearl."
"Why didn't you find him? We all thought you dead," Will asked faintly. "Jack…you were his friend."
"I wasn't ready to see Jack, knowing he'd been at Isla de la Muerta when…the curse was lifted. I wasn't ready to know. I didn't have an inkling until I saw you in the sick berth of the Laurel." Bootstrap smiled weakly. "Recognized you at once, lad. You look like your mother."
Will had to look away then. "Why didn't you tell me then?"
His father shrugged. "Cowardice. I could see you were uneasy among pirates. What was I to think except that you would be ashamed of your father's lot in life?"
Something very hot seemed to erupt in Will's insides. "Cowardice?!" he hissed, rounding on Bootstrap as his vision blurred dangerously. "I thought…you bloody….I lifted the curse!" His entire body was shaking, and his father blanched as the meaning of the words sunk in. "Don't you see?! I thought…I used my blood, even though I knew—had every reason to think you were still—I thought I killed you!"
He didn't dare shout (the crew would hear) but the words ground out in a voice rough with anger and pain. It hurt, physically, it hurt. Will wanted it to stop hurting, he wanted his father to stop looking at him with those soft eyes like a ghost from his childhood, he wanted to get out of that claustrophobic little cabin, he wanted Elizabeth, he wanted…
Somehow, Bootstrap had closed the small space between them without Will realizing it, and he was so busy concentrating on trying not to tremble that he didn't even see his father move until a gentle, calloused hand cupped his face. "My lad," whispered William Turner. "I thought I had killed you."
The clanging of the deck bell made them both leave their feet. "All hands on deck! Bloodstone's sail's been sighted, we're comin' up on 'er! All hands on deck!"
Will blinked, staring at his father in dismay. Bootstrap grimaced, echoing his son's sentiment. Then they turned helplessly and headed out the cabin doorway to join their crewmates on the Black Pearl's deck.
To be continued…
Next time: Yet another dead versus undead clash in the lagoon of Isla de la Muerta! Dead men do tell tales, all cards are shown at last (well, most of them), we finally learn what side everyone is on (well, almost everyone), and a few nasty characters get their just desserts! Oh, and Norrington lovers, fear not, he's back with a vengeance next chapter!
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