A/N: I hope another timely update of this story continues to make up for the wait I put you poor readers through. And I hope this chapter is as exciting for you to read as it was for me to write. I was a little wary of posting this chapter right around this time of year, due to the reasons explained below, but I don't want to keep you waiting for weeks when I have the chapter ready.
WARNING: There is violence and some gruesome death in this chapter. It contains a vivid description of the earthquake and tsunami that destroyed Port Royal in 1692, and even by natural disaster standards, that event was one of the nastiest in human history. Some of the victims died in rather grisly ways, so please use caution about reading this chapter. You may think that my description of the tsunami bears a resemblance to the horrible images of the tsunami that struck the Indian Ocean last year—I am not aiming to cheapen that tragedy, but the images described in this story are more accurate portrayals of a tsunami than the "big waves" that most people think of. If you are sensitive to violent deaths or graphic descriptions of natural disasters, I would not advise reading it. I think that the first part of the chapter makes it clear how the earthquake is incorporated into my story, and I will mark the beginning of the violent material with O. If any readers who choose to skip that section have trouble following what has happened in the story, feel free to let me know via review or private message, and I will fill you in.
Chapter Ten: Hand of the Caribbean
Elizabeth was availing herself of the ship surgeon's assistance in treating her various cuts and bruises when Commodore Norrington came below. She smiled absently at him as the surgeon bandaged a long gash on her arm, then blushed as he stared. "I should be surprised that you recognized me at all, Commodore," she said, settling for a casual approach to her rather untraditional appearance.
James took the cue and smiled sheepishly. "You do look somewhat different from your normal appearance in Port Royal, Miss Swann. Anyone would think you'd gone pirate."
They both chuckled, but Elizabeth suddenly felt guilty. "I suppose you had to cut your honeymoon short. My apologies. Did Lucy go on to England?"
"I suggested she do so, but she declined to proceed on her honeymoon without the groom," James seemed rather pleased. "She is waiting for me in Port Royal."
"I am glad," Elizabeth told him. "I would feel terrible if Will's and my latest escapade separated you from your wife."
"She'll be eager to hear of your adventures, I'm sure," Norrington replied. "And you'll be pleased to know we should make port tomorrow evening."
Elizabeth laughed. "That will be a relief." She rubbed her arms, noticing that her flesh there had grown quite firm from weeks of work as a sailor and barmaid. She pondered telling Norrington about that, but decided against it. "Being a pirate is rather exciting, but it's also rather exhausting."
Some time later, she found Will up on the bow of the ship, gazing out over the water. "What are you thinking of?"
"My father," he said, with unguarded honesty. "And Jack."
A pang of apprehension went through her. "Do you…regret not staying with them aboard the Pearl?"
Will tilted his head thoughtfully as the wind blew through his dark hair, then replied, "A little, sometimes. But that's not what I was thinking just now." His face grew less troubled, and he smiled easily at her. "I was remembering how I used to regard pirates, before I met Jack. I would have assumed they were all alike: Jack, Barbossa, Copperhead, my father."
Elizabeth shrugged, mentally tallying the pleasant days she had left of uncorseted bliss. "I was the same, though I regarded all pirates as fascinating adventurers." She absently stood a little closer to Will in the cool sea wind, and he did not pull away. "What is it, do you suppose, that makes a pirate a good man? The real difference between Barbossa and Jack? Jack's not what I would call honest, or…gentlemanly," (Will stifled a snort of laughter). "He lies and steals and kills. What do you think?"
Will gazed out over the water at the late afternoon sun for several moments before replying. "Jack's neither honest nor a fair fighter, but his word is good. In the end, he can be trusted. My father too. He deals fair with his crew and his allies. Barbossa just the opposite. He wasn't loyal to anyone, even his crew and his allies. He double-crossed Copperhead as well as Jack."
"Do you suppose that's really true or are we just saying it to excuse ourselves for liking Jack so much?" Elizabeth grinned.
"Who knows? Maybe it's just because he's Captain Jack Sparrow."
They both began to laugh, then turned and walked below decks, arm-in-arm with a casual affection quite appallingly improper. But if the events of the past two years had taught them anything, it was that such silly details as custom no longer mattered.
The Dauntless returned to Port Royal the following day. Will and Elizabeth left it to Commodore Norrington to break the sad news to his wife of her father's death in a "seagoing accident," while Elizabeth steeled herself for a confrontation with her own father. However, his daughter's second disappearance had apparently taught Weatherby Swann a few things, and he reproached neither Elizabeth nor Will for their actions, but rather begged both their forgiveness, and suggested that they look to setting a wedding date. His daughter and her fiancé readily agreed.
Furthermore, during his daughter's absence, Weatherby Swann had been replaced as Governor of Jamaica. Sir William Beeston had arrived from England only a few weeks before the Dauntless returned, and Elizabeth found her father's servants moving him from the Governor's mansion to a handsome dwelling near St. Paul's, until such time as a larger property among the plantations could be secured. Still, the former governor took the loss of his position with equanimity, perhaps in the newly-discovered knowledge that some things in life were far more important than others, and he was so busy rejoicing at the safe return of Elizabeth that he barely remarked on his changed circumstances. If Sir William had any thoughts about the former governor's daughter's impending nuptials to a blacksmith, he did not say.
Will re-opened the smithy, to the great joy of Port Royal's merchants, and although Swann offered to find him more suitable quarters in town than the single room in the back of the shop, he declined, preferring to save such favors for things he and Elizabeth would require together in their married life. But he did accept his future father-in-law's company—as was all quite proper—when they made their visit to Reverend Heath at St. Paul's to discuss the arrangements for the wedding to Elizabeth.
To the complete astonishment of both Will and Elizabeth, Swann did not even object when Elizabeth delicately mentioned her intention to invite Captain Sparrow and the crew of the Black Pearl to the wedding—though he did cringe a bit.
Whatever sorrows Lucy Norrington felt at her father's loss, she distracted herself from them alternately through running her own household and helping Elizabeth plan for hers. There were few society women Elizabeth's age in Port Royal to begin with, fewer still who she had called real friends, and scarcely any who cared to take an interest in her upcoming wedding to a blacksmith of dubious reputation. So it was Lucinda who joined Elizabeth in the planning of it all.
With societal difficulties now behind them, the only remaining obstacle that Will and Elizabeth encountered in preparing for married life was their house—or lack thereof. Building one would take time, and while Swann had suggested that they were welcome live at his house until their own was prepared, Elizabeth in particular was eager to manage her own household. But as Will was heavily occupied with back orders from his clientele, they worried they would have to settle for being Swann's guests indefinitely if they wished to be married at any time in the near future.
Somehow, Lucy's assurances to the two of them that "it will all work out," turned out to be precisely true. In early May, a Mister Edward Francis, one of Port Royal's merchants, was widowed and elected to return to England. His home, a modest house on High Street not far from the Governor's mansion, was put up for sale.
Will and Elizabeth went to see it with their small wedding party a month before their planned June wedding. "It's very small," said Swann.
"I like it," Elizabeth replied. "And since Will and I are going to be the only ones living here, it needn't be enormous."
"Servants' quarters?"
"We're only bringing Mary, Father."
"They're very nice, sir," the maid told Swann. "Missus won't need more than me to manage things in a small house. Take care of 'em easily, I can, in a place this size."
"I think it's lovely," Lucy said.
"Will?" Elizabeth asked her quiet fiancé. "What do you think?"
Will looked from the house to her, then back again, then at the paper in his hand indicating the appointments and the price. Then he smiled. "I think it's perfect. Shall I take it?"
Lucy squealed, Mary applauded, and even Swann grinned as Elizabeth nodded, her eyes brimming. Mister Francis closed the deal with Will Turner that afternoon, and spent several hours walking about the house with him, discussing improvements that the young blacksmith might make to the property, while Miss Swann and Mrs. Norrington and the maid scampered around inside discussing their plans for decorating.
June 7, 1692…
Commodore Norrington came in person one pleasant morning two weeks before the wedding to pick up an order from Will, and to chat. "Are you placing any new orders?" Will asked as the Commodore inspected the newest sword.
"Not that can't wait until after your wedding," said Norrington with a sly smile. "It would be terribly poor taste to keep you busy at that time." Will blushed, and the Commodore ceased teasing him. "Elizabeth seems very happy."
"She and Mrs. Norrington are at the house as we speak, supervising the decorations."
"And you're not to have a honeymoon? Lucy is appalled."
They both knew Will's work would not allow for time away from Port Royal, but neither Will nor Elizabeth were terribly troubled. "We're glad enough to be going to our own house on our wedding day," Will said cheerfully.
"So I thought. And by the way, it may interest you to know that Lieutenant Gillette claims to have spied the Black Pearl on his last patrol with the Dauntless," Norrington added.
Will paused from tidying his work space. "Oh? I'm interested to know what Lieutenant Gillette claims to have seen them doing?" Gillette's attitude toward Jack and pirates had become a running joke between the Commodore and the soon-to-be Turners.
"Oh, the usual. Accosting innocent privateers, stealing already-illegal shipments of rum, terrorizing the natives…" Norrington delivered the report with a perfectly straight face, but Will laughed.
"Did he demand to hang them again?"
"No, he knows better, but he did suggest a report to the Crown for an investigation. I declined, deeming it unnecessary."
"Let me guess: he's sulking."
"Like a scolded apprentice." This time they both laughed. "Perhaps I'll have him run up a white flag next time he encounters them, to deliver your wedding invitation to Captain Sparrow and company."
Will grinned. "I would be most exceedingly obliged, Commodore."
Norrington smiled and closed the box containing the new sword. "Magnificent work, as always, Mr. Turner. Good morning."
"Good morning, Commodore."
"Mrs. Norrington wishes to invite you and Miss Swann to dinner at our house tomorrow evening, if you can spare the time."
"We'd be delighted. Until then."
"For goodness sake, Lucy, leave off! Your enthusiasm is exhausting me." Elizabeth dropped wearily into a chair in the parlor and fanned her face. "You've yet to experience the full fury of a Port Royal summer."
Lucy obediently abandoned the painting she'd been trying to find a place for on the wall and came to sit beside her friend. "James says the air is full of steam."
"James does not exaggerate. Mary?" Elizabeth called to the maid. "Some tea for Mrs. Norrington and something cold for me."
"Yes, miss!"
Elizabeth watched the lacy curtains fluttering in the sea breeze and sighed. "What arduous task have you planned next for us, O wise housewife?"
Lucy swatted her with her fan. "You still haven't made up your mind on the linens for the bedrooms. If you're so dreadfully spent, we could take my carriage down after luncheon."
"I'll miss the fine ones from home, but we can't afford them." It was strange, Elizabeth supposed, that she could be so matter-of-fact about such things to Lucy Norrington—who hadn't done without the finest trappings England had to offer in all her life—when her father tended to wring his hands at even the suggestion that his daughter would no longer be seen in silks and pearls. "Still, we'd best have them before stocks run low and the prices go up." It was a little odd, having to consider things like prices and the shifts in the markets, but it had come easier than Elizabeth expected, probably due to the time she'd spent penniless in Tortuga. She still hadn't told Lucy about that.
Mary had just put the tea tray down and handed Elizabeth a glass of lemonade when there was a faint rumble in the distance. It seemed to be thunder at first, but lasted longer, and then grew louder. The tray began to vibrate, as did the ornaments upon the furniture and the very ground under their feet.
Lucy yelped, leaping to her feet in alarm, and Mary hastily steadied the tray and its contents lest they vibrate right off the small table. "Don't panic!" Elizabeth said, catching Lucy's arm as the rumbling faded.
"What was that?"
"A tremor, Madam," said Mary. She shuddered delicately. "Happens here now and then. Takes a bit of getting used to. Things fall sometimes, and once a whole row of storehouses came crashin' down on the beach, but nothin' too terrible."
Lucy looked a little pale, eyeing the ground as if expecting it to throw her off her feet at any moment. "Why on earth does that happen?"
"No one knows," said Elizabeth, handing her the tea with a little extra sugar to steady her nerves. "They say it happens in Spain and Portugal, but I've never heard of earthquakes in England or France. Something about the ground being less steady here, I suppose. Never mind. Mary, when we're finished with our drinks, why don't we open that crystal that Mr. Francis sent?"
"Very good, Miss. They say it's from one of the finest makers in Ireland! Right beautiful things!"
Lucy relaxed, satisfied that the earth had once again stilled, and the two of them returned to their plans without a second thought.
Will returned early from delivering several orders to the small Spanish compliment by the docks, having heard there had been a small tremor. It was probably not enough to damage the buildings, but he wanted to make sure there was no danger of the fire catching anything in the shop. All blacksmiths kept an ample supply of water on hand, and Will had learned from experience to keep all flammable materials well away from the fire, especially when Mr. Brown had been drunkenly running the place.
But he arrived to find that the shop was not empty.
Lieutenant Gillette was there, with a gentleman who appeared to be one of the wealthier plantation owners. They both looked startled to see Will.
"Gentlemen? Is there something I can do for you?"
"I was, ah, showing Sir Peter your establishment, Mr. Turner. He's, ah…interested in purchasing a sword for a friend."
The man's tone immediately raised Will's suspicions. Gillette had always been a pompous character, like Norrington before they'd become friends (or rather, more so), and his dislike of Will had only increased due to Will's association with Jack. Will and Norrington both suspected that Gillette's head had been turned by the prospect of feathering his cap with the capture of the Black Pearl and its notorious captain, and the Lieutenant was forever disgruntled that the Commodore would not allow it (assuming Gillette could even have caught Jack, which Will doubted.)
His strange deference now was cause for caution.
"Indeed," Will said carefully, watching Gillette's body language rather than turning his attention properly to the potential customer. He subtly kept himself between them and the nearest door, increasingly curious as to what they'd been doing. "Does Sir Peter have a particular style of weapon in mind?"
Sir Peter, for his part, looked as baffled by Gillette's statements as Will, but attempted (badly) to follow Gillette's lead. "Er…well, I've seen you do fine work, Turner, very handsome swords, and…perhaps you could show me around, now that you're here?"
Will kept his eyes on Gillette, but slowly nodded. "Gladly. But you understand that I prefer customers to wait until I am present before entering my establishment."
Warning delivered, and—strangely—accepted. "Of course, Mr. Turner. My apologies for the presumption. I'll, er, leave you to it, then."
Sir Peter shot Gillette a highly startled look as the man attempted to take his leave, and Will thought to question the nobleman once Gillette had gone—but as Gillette opened the door, sunlight glinted off silver and white hidden beneath the Lieutenant's uniform coat.
"GILLETTE!" Will roared, springing for the door.
Gillette actually tried to run, but Will was upon him in seconds, grabbing the tail of his coat so hard that it swung them both around, and had the effect of exposing the object the man was so desperate to hide—a sword of filigreed silver, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, gleaming in the sunlight with such spectacular beauty that it took one's breath away.
As Sir Peter made a hasty retreat, Will slammed the officer against the smithy wall. "What the devil are you doing with that? What the hell have you done?"
"Unhand me!" Gillette shouted, shoving Will away. "There's no owner to complain against legitimate salvage, and I don't answer to an upstart blacksmith!"
"You bloody fool, you know perfectly well that the owner of that thing can complain!"
"We blew the ships and the passage to pieces! They'll not be troubling us again!"
Will was appalled at the arrogance of the man. "It wasn't just the ships and their crews, Gillette, it was the sea. A few barrels of gunpowder won't stop it from claiming its own!"
Gillette sneered. "Perhaps simple pirates can be swayed by superstitious nonsense, but I'm an officer in His Majesty's Navy! You, you presumptuous slob, trying to insinuate your way into a society you're not fit to, flouting the laws of decent men with that Sparrow character—the Commodore should have hanged you both! Sir Peter will give me a decent price for the sword, and he has the ear of the new Governor. Norrington won't be in command of the Caribbean fleet for long!"
Will blocked his path when he would have stormed off toward the fort. "Perhaps, but it'll be long enough to have you shot for disobeying his orders not to touch those wrecks."
Steel rang in the scabbard as Gillette drew the white sword's blade, and passers-by in the street shouted in alarm. "Norrington ought to be shot for harboring pirates! As it is, I'll do my duty and rid the Caribbean of one of them right now!"
Will ducked frantically under the first wild swing and threw himself out of the way. I ought to start wearing a sword everywhere, he mused. "You may view it as your duty, Lieutenant, but society views it as murder!"
Gillette kept the white sword trained on Will and began to back away. "I will do away with you, Turner, if you cross me again! Learn your place and stay in it!"
"You've made this a dangerous place for all of us by stealing that sword!" Will shouted.
Whatever retort Gillette would have made was cut off by a distant rumble, and for the second time in minutes, the ground trembled beneath their feet. It was not enough to knock them down, but something shattered down at the potters' kiln, and people came out of their shops curiously. It had the effect of stopping the confrontation between Will and Gillette, and the Lieutenant had lowered the white sword, looking around apprehensively.
"Gillette," Will said urgently. "We must get that thing back to Isla de la Muerta. No one will be safe until it's off this island!"
The other man gave no reply, but started to turn away from Will—only to find himself face-to-face with Commodore Norrington. "I think that's sound advice, Lieutenant—though I use your rank loosely."
Gillette lurched backwards, and Will lunged as he saw the white sword being raised again. Norrington pivoted away from the disgraced officer, avoiding a slashing blow, and Will grabbed Gillette from behind.
"Come to your senses, man!" Norrington shouted, joining Will in trying to restrain Gillette. "This trinket is not worth the trouble!"
"You've—no—right!" Gillette grunted, fighting against the two of them, and still trying to free the sword from Will's grasp.
An elbow to the stomach doubled Will over, and Gillette again attempted to hack at Norrington with the white sword's blade. Will shouted a warning, Norrington rocked backward, but at the last second, both men caught Gillette's arm and wrested the hilt of the weapon from his hand.
The white sword flew several yards from the force of the struggle, landing point-down, sinking halfway to the hilt into the sandy earth.
O
In the parlor of what was soon to be the Turners' new home, Elizabeth and Lucy had just risen from their refreshments when the rumbling sound returned for a third time, first low as before, then this time rising in volume. The motion of the earth went from vibrating to earnest shaking, unbalancing the women, and Lucy shrieked as the tea tray fell off the table, its contents shattering upon the floor. Elizabeth heard Mary shouting from the kitchen, and more crockery crashed as the rumble increased to a roar.
"My God, what's happening?"
The walls seemed to be swinging back and forth, then amid the rumbling of the earth could be heard loud cracks, and the smell of plaster and dust filled the air. Mary stumbled into the parlor and cried, "We gotta get outside, Miss!"
Elizabeth couldn't collect her wits enough to think; she just grabbed Lucy's arm and staggered for the door. Never had she felt such motion as this, even aboard a ship in a storm. The earth bucked wildly beneath her feet, and she, Lucy, and Mary had to cling to each other and the walls to stay upright. The door seemed very far away as sconces fell from the walls and furniture crashed over.
They finally burst out into the late morning sun, but no reprieve was to be had. The tower bell of St. Paul's was ringing, and the three of them clung instinctively to the wrought-iron fence that Will had only just finished in front of the house, peering toward what seemed like a reassuring sound. But they saw that it was the tremors that were causing the bell to swing wildly back and forth—ringing as it did so—until the entire tower went crashing down off the church. Mary began to scream, Lucy was half-sobbing in terror, and Elizabeth realized she herself was breathing so fast that she was all but panting.
The tremors that rose directly from the ground knocked the three combatants apart, and Will, Norrington, and Gillette stared at each other in confusion as shouts and screams began to ring out from people in the street. "What…" Norrington blurted, trying and failing to get to his feet.
Will looked around, his confused thoughts mirroring the confusion before his eyes as the entire world seemed to shake, and then it dawned on him.
"The sword!"
Both men scrambled across the ground toward the gleaming object embedded in the ground, but even as they approached it, the weapon was sinking into the street, which actually rippled like ocean waves. "Oh, God, no!" Norrington gathered himself and simply dove across the ground, but even as his fingers brushed the hilt, the white sword vanished into the sand.
And then Norrington himself was sinking as well. The Commodore shouted in panic as the patch of the street itself seemed to have turned to quicksand, and no traction could be found for his hands to push himself out of it. "Hold on!" Will could feel the ground softening beneath his body as well, but he grabbed James by the leg and yanked him back toward firm enough earth for them both to crawl away.
They staggered to their feet and looked about in despair; old Mrs. Tapling was screaming in horror and pointing as her shop itself seemed to be sinking into the ground. It was as if the roads themselves were turning to liquid. In other places, the sand vanished altogether and pools of water appeared where the street had been hard and dry only seconds before. The potter's shop simply collapsed, its kiln emitting one belch of flame high into the air, and Will and Norrington held onto each other for balance as they stumbled backwards.
Norrington looked over his shoulder. "Gillette!" he shouted, his eyes flashing with anger, and Will turned to see the Lieutenant attempting to escape down the street, no doubt intending to flee Port Royal in the confusion of the quake.
The man managed to rise and run, even as the facades of buildings crashed down on either side of the street, their windows exploding outward and inward from the shifting of the walls. Norrington and Will recoiled as a geyser of seawater erupted from the street itself, shooting high into the air.
Then Gillette suddenly faltered, losing his balance, and pitched forward, his feet suddenly sinking into another patch of fluid sand. "Gillette!" Will and Norrington rushed after him, hearing him scream as he flailed and sought any means to pull himself free.
Norrington threw himself to the ground on the edge, reaching frantically for the stricken man, but the sandy bog was widening. "Oh God! Oh God!" Gillette flailed toward Norrington. "Help me! HELP!"
"GIVE ME YOUR HAND! GILLETTE—no…"
With another great surge of liquid motion, the street swallowed Lieutenant Gillette even as his commanding officer tried desperately to reach him, and in another instant, the ground had turned solid again. Norrington and Will scrambled to the place where Gillette had gone down, scrabbling with their hands against the sandy earth, but it was packed hard again, as if it had never been disturbed.
"What devilry is this?" Norrington cried. More seawater fountains burst from the ground, water bubbled like springs out of the streets and from under buildings, patches of sand were suddenly replaced by pools of water, and more people sank, screaming, into suddenly-fluid sand. All around them, buildings collapsed in on themselves, some bursting into flames.
And still the very earth roared around them, bucking and heaving beneath their feet, sending them pitching back and forth for balance. People ran screaming in all directions through the streets, and Will and Norrington too lurched along in confusion, having no better idea than any other soul in Port Royal of where to go or what to do. The ground moved in rolling waves as if the streets were imitating the sea, and the sea itself was bursting from the ground, erupting upward in great jets of water, spreading out into pools, or sucking the sand down along with anyone or anything that happened to rest upon it.
Will was nearly caught once, sinking nearly to his thighs before Norrington wrenched him from the sandy mud, and both men felt a horror that was almost indescribable to see several people sink up to their necks further along the street, only to have the ground solidify again even as they struggled—its sudden hardness choking off their breath and suffocating them, leaving their lifeless heads emerged from the bed of the street like unearthed stones.
It seemed as the end of the world to Will, and then he remembered.
"Elizabeth!"
Norrington glanced sideways at him, barely able to hear his voice over the noise of the tremor and the destruction it wreaked, but what color remained in the Commodore's face left it. Thinking as one, the two men turned and rushed as fast as they could up the street toward Will's house.
The ground was pitching so wildly that even the sturdy iron fence was swinging. Elizabeth, Lucy, and Mary clung to it, watching people attempting to run down the street only to be thrown off their feet, and buildings crashing down all around them. "Miss Elizabeth!" Mary cried. "Should we—make for—the fort?"
Elizabeth craned her neck down the street toward the reassuring bulk of the fort, but it seemed impossibly far away. "I don't know!" she gasped. "Maybe—the church?"
Lucy was too terrified to speak, but looked at Elizabeth in despair—the fall of the church bell tower did not bode well for its likelihood as a shelter, but it was far closer than the fort. Before she could gather her wits, the fence suddenly gave way altogether, crashing down sideways as a great crack split the earth itself, pulling the fence down with it.
Elizabeth and Mary threw themselves backwards, but Lucy did not release the fence in time and was yanked over with it, screaming in panic. "Oh my God!" Mary screamed, and Elizabeth crawled forward.
"Lucy! LUCY!" The fence had partially lodged itself in the crack, preventing Lucy from falling all the way in, and Elizabeth simply seized her sleeve and wrist and yanked for all she was worth. She felt Mary's arms wrap around her waist and kept pulling, sobbing in terror. "Come on! Pull, Mary, PULL!"
Then Lucy's feet found purchase on the crack's edge, and with a great shove, the three women landed in a pile of arms and legs on solid—but still shaking—ground, all weeping in panic. Elizabeth pulled herself up. "Come on! We're going to the church!"
Lucy, coughing and choking from dust and dirt, pulled Mary up beside her and staggered along, but suddenly glanced toward the fort. "My husband may be there," she croaked.
"If he's there, Ma'am, he's safer than us, I think," Mary wheezed.
Buildings were still collapsing, dust and water were bursting into the air, people were screaming, and the earth was still roaring. Then, at last, the great rumbling of the ground began to subside, though the wails and crashes from the destruction of Port Royal did not cease. The sandy streets calmed, though Elizabeth and the others were horrified to see people lying everywhere, some clearly crushed by falling debris, others half-in, half-out of the ground as though it had partially swallowed them. Here and there, only a limb, a head, or part of a garment or hat protruded from the street, like hideous weeds between stones.
But the end of the shaking did not bring about the end of their terror, and they simply continued running, able to do so more easily without their balance threatened, but they did not release each others' hands. Other denizens of Port Royal ran this way and that, calling out for companions, shouting instructions, some fleeing to the fort, others to the church, some heading straight for the docks to sail away from this stricken place.
They were rounding a bend in the street when Mary tripped over…something, and sprawled hard. Lucy and Elizabeth paused to right her, then Mary pointed. "Look at the water!"
The three women and many others in Port Royal stopped and stared at the Caribbean. Although the tremors had ceased, the harbor seemed to be boiling, the water's edge at an unnaturally low position, exposing areas that had always been beneath the waves, leaving most of the docks completely dry.
In another part of Port Royal, Will and Norrington too could view the strange sight, and had slowed their panicked attempt to reach the fort as they looked on at the harbor in confusion. "Has the earthquake changed the shoreline?" Will managed to ask, wondering if the pitching of the earth had moved the entire island.
"I don't know…" Norrington muttered, more experienced with such things after living in Port Royal almost all his life. "I don't understand why…"
Then a new sound reached their ears, the rumble of disturbed earth, but also something else, a higher-pitched sound, like a hiss, that was increasing to a new roar of hell's fury upon Port Royal. Will saw Norrington's face slacken into horror. "Sweet Jesus…" he spun around, taking in the people massing in the streets, still struggling with damaged buildings, some attempting to retrieve their possessions. "GET TO HIGHER GROUND! ALL OF YOU PEOPLE, MOVE TO HIGH GROUND NOW!"
Then he grabbed Will by the arm and bodily yanked him up the street. His cry of warning was heeded, thank God, but even if it had not been, the sea and the earth were now giving warning of their own, and all Will saw was a fleeting glimpse of the roiling harbor now rising again, impossibly fast, swamping the docks and showing no signs of slowing.
"RUN!" Norrington roared at him. "JUST RUN!"
Whether it was the ground that was sinking or the sea that was rising, many citizens of Port Royal would ponder for long after. Those who witnessed and lived through it would never be entirely sure. But all who beheld the nightmarish sight of water surging up over the shore, the markets, and into the streets of the town could think of only one possible hope—to move upward.
Only slightly higher on the island than Will and Norrington, Elizabeth, Mary, and Lucy also spotted the rising harbor and fled upward as well, joining a terrified throng of panicked people who feared that the entire city was going to be swallowed up by the Caribbean.
Elizabeth glanced back once only to realize that the street which seemed to be sliding whole into the sea at this very moment was the one where Will's smithy was located, and she nearly stopped in her tracks. "WILL! Dear God, no, please, WILL!"
"Come on, Miss!" Mary cried, and she and Lucy all but dragged Elizabeth on, aware even in their panic that there would be no chance of survival for anyone who tried to turn back.
Below them, Will and Norrington were in still greater peril, for the ground was turning soft again beneath their feet as they ran. The sea swallowed up the merchants' exchange, the customs house, and the meat market. The Admiralty Court and several of the smaller forts vanished along with, as Will was painfully and fearfully aware, the house he and Elizabeth had intended to make their home.
But the ground seemed to be sliding down to meet the rising Caribbean, and it was death to anyone who so much as paused. Geysers of sea water burst forth from the streets again, flinging people left and right, but few even dared to help others who fell. Houses and shops already weakened by the earth's shaking came crashing down, and their rubble was swept into the sea along with other buildings still standing.
Terror like he had never known even when fighting aboard the Black Pearl took Will as he and Norrington ran faster and faster, sensing the pursuit of the watery leviathan that gained on them. A dreadful smell of shattered masonry, salt, dust, seawater, and sweat pervaded the air, making it hard for the fleeing mob to draw breath for running. The screams behind them rose in pitch, some reaching a tone of utter frenzy only to be abruptly cut off, a grisly indication of those who failed to outrun the rising water. And with each frantic glance over their shoulders, Will and Norrington could not fail to see that many souls were unable to escape, swept under by a roaring, hell-borne, bloodthirsty tide.
They kept running, the general direction of the crowd being the only real suggestion of which was the way to safety. Cries of relief and exultation finally heralded the end of the water's advance, and people slowed to a halt, exhausted and stunned as they took in the sight behind them.
More than half of Port Royal had vanished. The water that had swept so much of the town under did not retreat, but remained there like a predator now resting upon its kill, with rooftops, bell towers, and the masts of ships emerging here and there from the waves—like the wrecks in the passage of Isla de la Muerta. The water was littered with debris, parts of houses and boats, whole uprooted trees…and human bodies, like so many chunks of driftwood floating about the harbor.
A great, collective moan of awe and despair went up from the survivors who now massed, stunned and confused, amid the shattered buildings and wreckage-strewn streets that now constituted the surviving part of the richest city in the Caribbean. The dead floating in the harbor all but covered the water. Will and Norrington knew that the raging Caribbean must have claimed at least two thousand souls on this day. There remained, amid the stench of the wreckage, also a tang of blood, warning that not all the lives ended here today were those that had been lost to the water.
As with everyone else in Port Royal at that moment, Will and Norrington began to wander aimlessly through the streets sharing the same thought as their fellows: they had survived a stroke of the very hand of hell. Now what?
To be continued…
Coming Soon: The crew of the Black Pearl discovers that catastrophe has befallen Port Royal, Commodore Norrington struggles to piece back together his stricken city, and Will seeks word of the fates of Elizabeth, Lucy, and their loved ones in Chapter Eleven: Fortune!
Please don't forget to review! Have a safe and happy New Year!