Will stared at the platter of food in front of him. "I don't believe it."
"No one said you had to believe it, son. That's just the way the men and I saw it. You can ask them, if you like."
Captain Ephraim Gerrarrd sat across from him, legs propped up on the table as he nursed along a goblet of some liquid or another. He'd left Will's hands untied for the first time in days, watching him greedily scarf up the barely-adequate but somehow delicious fare usually enjoyed by the captain. Will kept an eye on him as he ate, but the captain hardly seemed concerned, lazily partaking in his drink.
He straightened up over the meat, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Undoubtedly you've instructed them in what to say."
"I've done no such thing... but thank you for the hint." Gerrarrd smiled genially at him. "Perhaps I can make use of it down the road."
Gerrarrd had not permitted him silverware, presumably because picking up a fork and stabbing him in the eye would have been entirely too plausible. Will shifted slightly and his leg seethed with the motion; as if I could even begin to think about rushing him. The wound had been treated and wrapped, but the infection had crept in despite Jack Sparrow's best efforts.
Sparrow. Will's hand clenched. At least Gerrarrd had the decency to stay on the side he started out on. "All right, Captain. You've taken care of my leg, fed me, and not killed me, and I still don't know why. I have no money, I have no wealthy relatives, I have no real talent--" save smithing, and how could he know about that? "--which leads me to wonder why, exactly, you want me here."
Gerrarrd drew a dagger from his belt and examined it in the candlelight, flicking it this way and that before settling his gray stare on Will. "You really don't know, do you?"
"No. And why do you speak - properly - now?"
"I was brought up to be a proper English lad, just like you, Mr. Turner." Gerrarrd planted the dagger into the table and leaned forward. "The crew responds better to a man they think to be one of their own, and as such I play that part when required. However... it's just the two of us here, isn't it? I brought you here for a specific purpose... for an old friend."
For an old friend. He wasn't sure whether he should be hopeful or horrified, and settled for suspicious. "You knew my father."
"That I did. Jack Sparrow knew him, too. But would Jack Sparrow bring you to him, I wonder?" At Will's incredulous stare, Gerrarrd broke into a genuine grin. "You were quite right about the ransom on your female companion. As for Sparrow; well, he works in mysterious ways, doesn't he? Myself, though... I'm not a complex man, Mr. Turner. Pirates rarely are. I want what I want and I tend to go after it, and damn all else that comes before it. But you... you are the one I wanted."
"Because of my father."
"Aye, that's so."
It became very quiet in the captain's cabin; Will could hear the flickering of candles and the groaning of the hull as Wickedry sailed on to her destination. "And you're bringing me to him. That's your only reason? You had to kidnap me to--"
"Please, lad, would you have gone along with me if I'd simply strolled up to you and said 'Mate, I know your father'? No, you wouldn't. Therefore drastic measures needed to be taken."
"And Elizabeth... what about Elizabeth...?"
"Pfft. I'm not going to turn down money where money is offered."
"No, I mean Elizabeth is stuck on that island, and--"
"I've chartered a merchant vessel to pick her up, Mr. Turner. Your lovely ladyfriend is quite safe." A lock of hair fell into his eyes and he pushed it impatiently away. "You don't believe me. I suppose I can't blame you. Allow me to offer you an accord then, if you will. When Wickedry reaches home, you'll meet your father. You'll listen to what he has to say. When your lady love arrives, I'll ransom her right back to father dearest and if you wish, you can go along with her."
The captain's words were a bit too easy to ring entirely true. Will had never fallen in love with the stories of pirates as Elizabeth had; his only information regarding Ephraim Gerrarrd came from what he'd seen and heard himself, and what Jack Sparrow had told him.
And if Jack Sparrow had betrayed him...
It's not like I'm going to be doing anything quickly on this leg anyway. He nodded, more to himself then Gerrarrd. "All right, Captain, I'll... accompany you to... wherever we're going... where are we going?"
"Noble Bay."
"To Noble Bay, then. And I will see what it is you'd show me."
Gerrarrd smiled and lifted his goblet up. "To worthy accords and old friends."
"To old friends," Will echoed, downing his own wine.
He would remain cautious. He would listen and watch and learn.
And he would find out what cards Ephraim Gerrarrd had up his sleeve.
Each morning, Elizabeth awoke to pristine waters and a bitter taste in her heart.
A week on an island with no company would make anybody melancholy.
A week on an island with no company save a remarkably loud pirate would drive any woman to the brink of insanity. She supposed she was lucky she still felt anything.
They had a routine now, for all the good it did them. Jack would venture out into the water three times a day and perform some peculiar dance that involved much stomping and hand-waving, and would occasionally land a fish or some other form of sealife on the beach for cooking. Elizabeth would check the fresh water stores, tidy up their haphazard shelter as best she could, and pine.
Pine for something she had so terribly wanted, yet at the same time... dreaded.
Her loving, gentle blacksmith was trapped.
And so was she.
Trapped with a pirate. Not any pirate. A pirate she knew. A pirate she knew... rather well.
A pirate she knew far better than she or any other respectable woman should.
He had only brought it up once, thank God.
"You remember what happened last time we were on an island alone together, doncha love?"
"We agreed never to talk about that."
"No, we agreed never to talk about that to anyone else. There was no such accord about talking to each other about it."
"I see."
"All and all, I found it to be a splendid little trip... until you burned the rum."
"Oh, dear, he's holding a grudge."
And that had been that.
At least Will had never known.
Will, she thought. Will, Will, Will. She had said the words aloud at first, until Jack began bopping her on the head for each time she said it. Unwilling to allow him to bruise her - however inadvertently - she settled for thinking them as she watched the ocean. He had escaped so many times before, surely he could escape this... he might come swimming up any moment, all smiles and slightly-mussed hair. Will, Will...
"Time to go." Jack bopped her on the head once again as he sauntered past, and she lifted her head to follow him.
"Go where?"
"There's a wee schooner anchored just over there," Jack gestured to the cove, "and we need to meet that boat and get our merry selves off this island so that we may live another day."
Escape. The word had been so tantalizing not long ago. But now... "How do you know it's not one of Gerrarrd's men?"
"Because I know that ship, young missy. Now come along."
"I'm really quite comfortable." Elizabeth dug her heels into the sand and turned around so that she was facing away from shore. She was being foolish - nay, childish - but the idea of setting foot on another ship save the Dauntless did not appeal to her. Just behind her, she could almost envision Jack staring down at her with one hand stroking the braids in his beard. Thus she looked up with some surprise as the captain knelt directly in front of her, his dark eyes boring straight into hers.
"I'm curious, Elizabeth, as to just what you intend to do on this island if I leave you here - besides slowly starve to death? Regardless... such a thing won't be happening, as your father will--"
"--have your head," she finished, looking away. "Pirate."
"No, indeed - soon to be a free and legal man! For a very short while, anyway." Jack pulled her to her feet and began frolicking toward the seashore, his coat flapping. "Captain Jack Sparrow, scourge of the Caribbean, hero of the pirates!" He sang it to the tune of the Really Bad Eggs song, much to her horror. Why had she ever taught him that?
Elizabeth followed along behind him, hitching up the ruined trousers so she could address the men on the boat with some dignity. So that's what her life was to be, was it? Worth a ship, worth a pardon, worth a man's life. To think, if Captain Rackham hadn't taken the Dauntless on that specific course - if he had shifted it slightly, as Corwin had suggested - they would have missed the sinking ship entirely. They would have missed Will Turner entirely. None of this ever would have happened...
She reached the boat as water licked at her knees, and a big sailor took her hand. "'Afternoon, m'lady. Fancy coming aboard the Goldtooth?"
The ship's name didn't set off any peculiar thoughts. Nor did the odd bow the ship's captain presented to Jack. But once they were well underway, during supper with the officers, Elizabeth at last noticed the two beaded braids each man aboard had in his beard.
She spent the rest of supper staring pointedly at Jack, to the point where the pirate stretched and said he felt a bit like a nap. The captain and his officers scampered out instantly, leaving their plates and glasses as they were. He looked her over with a sly grin. "Well, ask away, Miss Swann. I will hold nothing back."
"Why does--and he--and they--how--" Elizabeth paused, met the pirate's gleeful stare head-on, and picked up the remainder of her wine. "It seems you have an admiration society, Mr. Sparrow."
"Captain," he said lazily. "...or... chief, if you like."
"Chief Sparrow." She sipped the wine, set the empty glass on the table. "If I may ask... how?"
"It's rather interesting how it all happened," he said, leaning back. By the look in his eye, he'd been waiting to tell this story a long time - and she'd played right into his trap. "This must have been... oh, the year after I lost the Pearl. I had gotten meself a neat little schooner - somethin' like this - and came upon an island blockaded by a Very Bad Man." He waited for some reaction but appeared undaunted when she continued to stare. "They came to me asking for help, for it seems no ships had been able to get in or out, and I was the first news of the outside world they'd had."
Elizabeth poured herself some more wine.
"My arrival came three days to the very hour their great chieftain died... the mighty Janos! Ah, fine man he was, fine man - so I'm told. It took not but a moment for them to realize me as a skilled swordsman, and perhaps their only way out of this terrible thing. One thing led to another, and they made me their battle lord..."
"Their battle lord?" Elizabeth finished her wine. "Interesting... do continue."
"So plan we did, for three days and three nights, until the midnight star crept high o'er our heads and all was ready for our... action." Jack lifted a fork that still had a bit of meat on it, using it to punctuate his story. "I went aboard those ships, and I told those Very Bad Men - leave or be killed, all of you! And they laughed. They laughed. Something changed their mind, though."
Elizabeth poured herself some more wine.
"I told them 'twould be terribly ill-omened for them to shed blood on a midwinter's night, for curses descend upon the living at that time, you know." Jack stood up and began striding slowly around the little table, seemingly lost in his memories.
She looked at him with big eyes over the rim of her glass. "And then?"
"Mind you - rumors had already begun to fly about the cursed gold and my poor Pearl." He paused in front of her, fork still in-hand. "So they took the curse bit rather seriously. I went to their captain, you see, and I leaned very close to him..." Jack placed one hand on the table and leaned in to demonstrate, and she could feel his breath against her face. "...and I told him..." Elizabeth's breath caught as his voice dropped "...'Leave this island now, lest Captain Jack Sparrow make you leave.'"
She leaned closer to him, vaguely of how very intense his charcoal-smudged eyes could be. "And... they left?"
"Aye, they did," he said, that dark gaze still fixed on her. "They did... and I returned to the island triumphant. The settlers thanked me with food," he held the fork up to her and wrapped her hand around it, "I want you to have this..." and straightened, looking out the lone porthole. "...and they made me their chief."
Elizabeth stared at the fork and the meat, trying desperately to collect her scattered thoughts. "Battle lord... and then chief?"
"We are headed to Sparrowisle, m'lady, where rum flows freely and no doors are ever locked!" Jack placed one boot upon a chair and struck a pose.
Rum? Hadn't she done some... well... improper things last time she'd had rum?
Jack winked at her.
Well... maybe just one improper thing.
The place was called Sparrowisle?
No good could come of this.
Elizabeth poured herself some more wine.
Needless to say, she was almost entirely drunk by the time Goldtooth put into port at midnight.
Jack Sparrow, on the other hand, was almost entirely sober - which made for a peculiar change.
"Cap'n Jack," she said as he half-helped, half-carried her off the ship, "it... must be nice to be... a chief."
"Indeed it is, darling, and come daybreak you will see what kind of chief I am..." He paused to tip her back upright. "...presuming your head doesn't hurt too much."
She could see the little town as it slept, witnessed a few people poking their heads out of windows to investigate raucous laughter from the dock. Wait. That laughter came from her! Horrified, Elizabeth drew herself up and turned to Jack, pulling away from him. "Captain Sparrow, how could you?"
"Why, it was shockingly easy, lass - how could I what?"
"Let me get drunk." She giggled and smiled at him. "You remember what happened last time I got... drunk."
"Hmmm..." He reached a steadying hand out as she slipped. "I seem to remember a good deal of talking, not much else."
She wanted to clap her hands together gleefully, but instead she bobbed a courtesy. "Thank you ever so much for your digression, Mr. Sparrow... diversion... dinnydinndooda..."
"Discretion?"
"That's the one! Discretion!" She promptly slipped on another patch of still-wet earth and landed flat on her bum, gaping at her feet. "My, I certainly am rather drunk, aren't I?"
He helped her to her feet and steered her toward a house with an open door. "I think you make a rather fetching drunk," he said, before a kind-looking woman with beads in her hair showed her to a bed. Elizabeth fell face-down onto the pillow and promptly fell into a sweet, liquor-induced sleep.
"We'll have to darken her hair..."
Elizabeth opened one eye. She lay stretched on her side on a mattress, facing a wall. I know that voice... by God's good grace, my head hurts...
"But what does Gerrarrd want with her? She hardly seems 'is type." A lighter voice, a smaller man. They stood about eight feet away from her.
"That young woman happens to be the daughter of Weatherby Swann, and onetime-consort of Commodore Corwin Norrington." She could almost imagine Jack's eyes flashing gold coins. "She is... well-connected, shall we say."
Well, it sounded like Jack, except... something was not quite right...
The smaller man tapped his foot against the ground. "Well, I'll have the lads look into things quietly, but I knows for a fact Gerrarrd's got more floozies n' I can think up. We'll get your lass to Shona, she'll be right pleased to help 'er, certainly if it's for Father Jack."
Father Jack?! Elizabeth couldn't hold back her giggle - except it came out as more of a low-pitched, grunting hitch. Footsteps came closer. "Are you awake, Miss Swann?"
Much to her head's distress, she rolled over with a grin. "Quite awake, Father Jack."
He quirked his eyebrows at her, his ever-present semi-smug/amused look settling into place. "Good! And how's your head?"
She smiled. "I feel like I've been kicked in the face by a very large horse."
"Good! Ah, Elizabeth Swann, this is Magnus de Anjou, formerly of the good ship Branwen. He oversees things for me when I can't be about."
"Aha." Elizabeth sat up and extended her hand with as much dignity as she could muster. So he's a minion, then? Magnus scooped up her hand and kissed it delicately. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. de Anjou."
"The pleasure is mine, Miss Swann. Please, call me Magnus... we're rather informal on Sparrowisle." Magnus helped her to her feet, pulled out a chair for her to sit in. "Jack tells me you've need of a disguise."
"I was unaware of that."
"Apparently Gerrarrd is searching these islands," Jack said, wandering about the little room and examining things. "Well - his henchmen, to be precise. Wickedry herself was only seen fleetingly."
That was it! The slur had vanished. Elizabeth straightened. "Why does he want me? You said--" Jack shook his head ever so slightly, and she stuck out her lower lip instead of finishing her sentence.
"Oh, 'tis me he's after, no doubt. He'll never allow Captain Jack Sparrow to slide through his fingers."
Perhaps she was still a tad tipsy, but this really did seem like a fine time for an argument. "Bah! You're of little consequence to him. He's after me, and my ransom money."
"No... I believe he's after me, and my..." Jack appeared to be thinking quite hard. "...value."
"You're wrong."
"I'm right."
"He wants my money and my body," she said firmly. Magnus cleared his throat and looked away demurely; Jack did no such thing, instead sliding his gaze with exaggerated thoughtfulness down her frame.
"Can't argue with the second bit, love."
Magnus waited until a sufficient amount of time had passed before speaking again. "The people will protect Chief Sparrow and his... lady... for as long as necessary. We are honored to have him here with us. But in case someone comes looking for you... we may need to change your appearance." He looked meaningfully at the tattered rags of Gerrarrd's clothing. "And doubtless you will want a bath."
Yes, that was true. She probably stank rather badly right now... no, she did stink rather badly right now. "Very well. But doesn't he have to change how he looks as well?" She looked at Jack, mostly to see him squirm.
He batted his eyes at her. "Of course not, darling. It would break the hearts of the fine women on this island if I were to change a single thing about my masculine beauty."
That simply would not do.
"Your hair hasn't been brushed in years. You probably haven't had a bath in years. The beads need to go. And Captain Sparrow, there are braids in your beard."
He pulled lightly on the braids. "I feel pretty."
"Don't make that face at me."
"What face?"
"The one you just made!"
"I made no face." Jack turned to Magnus. "Did you make a face?"
Elizabeth clapped her hands to her forehead and instantly regretted it. "ARGH!"
"No, it's ARRRR!"
She held out her hand. "Give me your gun."
"Why?"
"I'm going to shoot myself."
Three hours and several stories of Captain Sparrow's exploits later, Elizabeth was finally starting to feel relatively human again. She had been deposited into the hands of Shona, one of the island women who spoke little but smiled plenty. The beads and trinkets in her hair jangled just as Jack's did, and she bustled about Elizabeth with a calm, confident manner.
The bath came first. She soaked for an hour, scrubbing over and over until the skin showed pink and puffy. Brushing out her hair, she paused when she caught Shona pounding some plants together. "What are you doing?"
"Father Jack's orders," she explained. Elizabeth found she could not quite place her accent, though she caught a hint of an Irish brogue. "'Twill make eyes go over you. Most on this island are darker."
Father Jack. According to the other women who passed by to regale her with tales, that title might be literal as well as honorary. Apparently Jack Sparrow, Island Hero had his pick of the women - wedded or not.
He probably initiates their virgins. No wonder he was so pleasant about it. My, I've certainly grown free with my thoughts as of late. Elizabeth wrinkled her nose as the island woman dunked her head into the paste she'd made, but otherwise did not comment. Life went much easier when she didn't fight.
Nightfall on Sparrowisle brought singing and dancing and sweet words that no one would remember come morning.
Elizabeth found Jack perched on a makeshift throne with one leg draped over the side, patting the head of one of the island girls she'd seen earlier. He must have been watching the festivities that went on in his honor... but he turned his head as he heard her jangling toward him. A smile found its way to his face as he dismissed the island girl and tugged gently on his beard. "Beads in my hair, hmm?"
She folded her arms. "Don't. Just don't."
Mercifully, he did not comment on the horrifying cut of the dress or the paste that had failed in some places, leaving her with a splotchy mess of black and brownish hair adorned with beads. He didn't even comment on the terror that her eyebrows had become after Shona had unsuccessfully attempted to darken them with the same paste. He just smiled. "You fit right in, Miss Liz."
She grunted and rested one arm on the back of the throne as a herd of children scurried past. "How many are yours, do you think?"
He regarded them with deep interest. "Of that batch? None. I didn't stay long enough for any ceremonies that year." He sent her a glance. "My apologies, Miss Swann, if I offend your sensibilities."
A boy of about eight came up to her, offered a platter of fruit. She accepted it with a nod, and the boy beamed a familiar grin when Jack patted him on the head. Off he went, leaving Elizabeth to gaze after him. "That one is yours."
"Aye..."
"There is much of you in him." She bit into something sweet but unidentifiable and chewed for a few moments. "Dare I ask if you know who the mother is?"
"He would be Inola's son." Jack helped himself to some of the fruit. "I know my own people."
"At least you know something." She picked at the fruit, but found herself gazing at them again. "What are they? I've seen an Irishman or two, and English, but..."
He took another fruit. "They're a mix. As I've managed to gather, it's something of a failed colony... the natives and colonists got along well enough, but it's far from the typical trade routes." He sent her a meaningful look. "This bodes quite well for us and our current popularity, if you take my meaning."
The breeze picked up, carrying the scent of meat and liquor. She chuckled, handing him the platter. "You weren't joking about the rum flowing freely, were you?"
"Of course not." He set the platter down and hopped to his feet, extending a hand to her. "Dance, m'lady?"
She stared at the hand, then at the pirate. Should I be laughing or running away? "Wh... what?"
"It is the Chief's duty to dance with the maidens each nightfall," he said. "But I would not want to make you jealous if I propositioned another beauty first."
She glanced at the singing, dancing people and for an instant toyed with the idea of spinning wildly, sand between her toes.
Dancing with a pirate.
But she was still Elizabeth Swann, the governor's daughter... and she missed Will. "Thank you, Captain... I must decline."
"Your sensibilities are getting the better of you," he observed. "Is anyone else here concerned with them?"
"Clearly not."
"Aye, and do y'know why? They don't require it, love. Look at them sing and dance. There are no laws here, save the Chief's word. And my word is for them to live life."
"Jack Sparrow," she muttered, "Island Hero. Do they know their chief is a pirate?"
"They do. They seem to find it... rather exciting." He picked up her hand and kissed it, then winked at her. "Until next we speak, Miss Swann."
Off he went to dance, and as she glanced over her shoulder she caught him surrounded by women. No, Jack Sparrow would not go to sleep lonely tonight - if he slept at all.
Would it really have been so bad, dancing out there? Elizabeth made her way to the shore and stood in the surf, letting the water lap gently at her toes. He can be very amusing when he's not rum-addled... and these people seem kind. Warm. Good-hearted. Do they truly have no laws? Can a society exist like that? She opened her arms to the stars, tilting her head back and letting the breeze creep over her neck. It doesn't matter. I will be home soon. And then... then I will find William. Somehow.
She looked at the water again, listened to its whispers. Tell him I'll come for him. Tell him I'll find him, somehow. Tell William not to lose heart.
I will find you. I promise.
She hoped that time would not prove her to be a liar.
(Readers:
I'm headed back to school and work shortly, so updates will be fewer and farther in between. Be well, hugs and kisses, fresh strawberries, etc. I am not going to forget about this story or you guys and if I can't update for awhile, please understand that I will get to it ASAP. I really like this story and hope to continue it.
Wackelda - plot's dragging on, huh? You've found me out. It's going to keep on dragging! It's going to go on forever! I am going to RULE THE WORLD via long, dragging fics! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!
That said, I'm not working under a word-count ceiling for the first time in awhile; therefore, I'm stretching my legs. It feels good.)