Will was reaching for the smoking pipe on the bedside table when a flurry of deafening booms sounded. There was a short silence and then all hell broke loose. Booms filled the air. Their blast resonated so that the very walls around his family shook, and the floor beneath their feet rumbled. From somewhere beyond the walls—just where, Will could not reckon—shouts and shots rang out. Over the heads of two children stunned silent, husband and wife exchanged their own wide-eyed look of shock.

"What's that?"

"Whatever it is," said Will, grabbing Little Lucy up in his arms, "it sounds dangerous!"

As his wife and son fled before him into the strange hall, Will followed. With a glance back he realized he'd left the candelabra lit and the door open and unlocked. Cussing inwardly he leapt back. Quickly he lifted Little Lucy up to the candles. The girl shot a look of confusion at him for a second, but then her dark eyes flickered with flame as realization dawned on her. In a circle Will skipped with her until all the candles were out. Satisfied, he slammed the door shut, not caring whether the gold fell off in sheets. He twisted the key in the lock and sprinted after Jack and Elizabeth.

"Will!" In the small round room Elizabeth had skidded to a stop and turned frantically in a circle. "Which way?"

"That way," he shouted, speeding past a startled Samson to follow his wife and son through the door he'd pointed out. Quickly they fled through the dining hall, and Will held tight to his daughter with one arm as he reached forward to heave open the carved double doors. The blasts were louder, and the shouts sharper, as out they went, all of them with Samson at the rear, into the balmy night air. Only at the grove of palms did they stop in their tracks to stare at the pool of bubbling water. Flashes of green and orange illuminated it—and as they raised their gazes up to the sky they saw that what had been so frightening was nothing to be scared of at all.

"Fireworks?"

Elizabeth's lip curled up. "I suppose you will be quite able to find Jack afterall."

"Aye," said Samson as he nodded them on, "looks as if our fearless leader's booming in the other bay."

"The other bay?" asked Will, following the big man through the grove of trees. He glanced back to make sure his family followed, and satisfied with such, narrowed his eyes at Samson. "There are two?"

"One and a half," Samson amended with a grin back at him. "This one's the half."

"A half of a bay?"

Sure enough, as they slipped through the last of the trees to the sand beyond, there was another bay. Separated from the other by a rise of black rock, and surrounded partially by it, it opened wide into the sea. Waves broke instead of lapped at the shoreline. Beyond the Intuit settlement this bay was, on the very outskirts of it, and the smells and sounds that had spellbound Will earlier once more played with his senses. Glancing at Elizabeth, he followed the big man across the beach.

The shouts and shots, it appeared, had been those of a celebratory sort. In fact, the booms seemed as such as well. Closer now, Will noted that the rockets were being shot off of a small ship resting in the bay. Over a dock and up gangplanks pirates scurried, and those on deck seemed most overjoyed. From afar Will eyed it warily, hoping that indeed it was Jack Sparrow's crew enjoying the proceedings so merrily and not that of another less amiable sort. He laid his hand upon the hilt of his sword. Up close, as he followed the big man onto the floating, wooden dock, he noted several familiar faces and let his hand drop away. Curious, he eyed the vessel before him.

It was a sleek brown ship, a small thing of beauty with graceful clean lines stem to stern. Her rigging rose high into the air, but her sails were furled. Even so he saw that they were a pretty cream color, much the same as the color streaking the hull. It was then that he recognized it, and his brows rose.

"The fourth ship," he breathed, handing a fussing daughter to his wife. "From the fourth window…"

The front was facing the sea, but the back they passed on their way to the planks. Will noted with a frown the empty nameplate resting below a row of faceted windows. Their panes glowed softly, as if the space inside were filled with the same candlelight as Little Lucy had blown out moments earlier.

"Aye," drawled a familiar voice as Will stepped aboard, "indeed it is." Jack Sparrow flashed a golden grin at him from his spot where he lazed against the mizzenmast. "Almost ruined the surprise, that bloody window."

"The surprise?"

"The surprise," echoed Jack, standing straight and throwing his arms out in the air. "Happy Birthday, Will Turner."

"Happy Birthday!"

That the pirates cheered flushed Will's face, but that they swarmed to lift him as they sang a tune replaced shame with a sheepish laugh. Over their heads they passed him, man to man, as they sang their own rendition of the tune so popular for the celebration of one's date of birth. For once, Will couldn't help but revel in the limelight, suddenly relieved and glad that his family was with him, and that friends were once again the sort to be trusted.

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

Isaac watched the celebratory proceedings with a wan smile. It wasn't that he wasn't happy for Will. In fact, he was. Will Turner was so stodgy and stubborn that seeing him laugh and make merry was refreshing if not joyous in and of itself. But Isaac doubted very highly that his presence was at all appreciated. As much as he liked the man, Will did not seem to reciprocate the fondness whatsoever. So it was that he sat on the railing above and away from most of the rest of the party, watching as the man married to Elizabeth was presented first with a candlelit cake and then with wrapped presents from his children.

"Open this first," insisted Jack Turner, his golden eyes gleaming up at his father. "It's from me!"

Patting the lad's head, Will obliged. Under the parchment was a gilt flask. Embellished with amber stones and inlaid with ivory, it was verily fancy and seemed the sort Isaac had seen on most gentlemen drunks in London. Though Will Turner was not such a drunk, he did seem taken with the thing's beauty and rather amused by the prospect of it as he turned it over in his hands.

"Da—you need one of those," said the lad.

"When the lad's right, he's right," quipped Jack Sparrow, to the delight of the pirates looking on.

Will Turner glared at him but flashed a smile at his son, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Thank you. It will surely come in handy, Jack." He shot a look at the pirate. "It will be filled full whenever the Pearl is sighted off Port Royal."

Isaac snickered with the rest of the men as Jack Sparrow flashed a demure smile.

Bored with the propriety of the proceedings, Little Lucy looked down in consternation at the gift in her hands. With a furtive glance up at the adults—whom were not paying attention, save Isaac and perhaps the ever-silent Mr. Cotton standing at his side—she set to unwrapping it. When she'd finished, she whipped it in the air and smiled brightly at her father.

"Mine!"

The little girl's declaration drew the gaze of everyone. The parchment tore to pieces at her feet and the gift in her hand drew quiet laughter all around, and Will Turner smiled at Elizabeth before he accepted the present offered by their little girl's little hands. It was a hat.

"Apparently," said Jack Sparrow, "taste for millinery excellence runs in the family."

Very nice it was indeed—a dark brown gentleman's hat, constructed of the finest wool. It was trimmed in cream-colored embroidery and embellished with a matching ribbon and sprig of mint. Upon his delighted examination of the thing, Will Turner doffed the captain's hat and tossed it to him. As the pirate pressed his hands together in thanks, Will plopped the new hat on his head and admired his reflection in the empty silver platter on the table.

After a moment of turning this way and that, Turner smiled at Little Lucy and gave her a peck on the cheek. "It's lovely, Lucy. Thank you."

There were, of course, other gifts from the children. A set of jade bookends, a really big really blue ring, and two matching daggers—one for Will and the other for Elizabeth—were among the impressive presents. But the gift opening was not without its more comedic reveals. There was an ornate set of black and gold cuff irons—from Singapore—a mahogany mallet for croquet, a porcelain clown—at which many of the men winced—a canister of ladies' scented powder, and a very genteel edition of a book entitled "Eunuchs Through the Ages"—complete with gilded lettering and fine illustration.

"Very funny," said Will to Jack Sparrow, thumbing through the pages.

The pirate shrugged. "Isn't from me." He struggled to keep his twitching lip under control and when he was sure of it, cocked his head. "Although I do think it is a fine volume."

Will shook his head, eyes growing wide at one of the drawings in the book.

"What is from me," said Jack, flicking a hand toward the open doors of the captain's quarters, "awaits your attention."

Will considered him. "Do I want to find out?"

Jack frowned. "Well I don't know." He raised his brows. "Do you?"

"Yes. Unless," said Will, taking the book over to Jack and foisting a picture at him, "it is a pair of scissors."

"No!" Horror showed upon the face of Jack Sparrow. "No, no it's not that. Those." He winced, promptly shutting the book, and rolled a doleful gaze to the sky. "And just when I had thought those nightmares would never return…" His dark eyes fell on Will and he nodded. "I'd take Commodore Custard any day over those."

"Who?"

"Never you mind," said the pirate, flashing a grin and grabbing his arm. "Let's get to it."

Under Isaac's heels they disappeared, Jack and the Turner family. The pirates on deck resumed their most impersonable celebration, clanging mugs and bottles together and shouting gleefully words that were most likely impolite. Isaac was glad for the flagon thrown his way. He uncapped it, drank from it, and wiped his mouth most improperly with his forearm. Nodding at Cotton, he flipped backwards onto his feet to mingle amongst the men in hopes of finding some sort of fun that would lift his spirits.

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

Indeed, Will saw that the captain's quarters were alight with candles, and many of them at that. All dripping wax, their flames burned bright and warmed the place. They served well to compliment the gold and cream tones throughout, as well as the glossy woodwork, and to dance over the impressively rendered maps covering the walls. In the center of the room sat a matching round table flanked by several overstuffed chairs, and to the right a glossy, well-appointed desk. But Jack Sparrow led them to the left, where stood a large easel draped in white drop cloth.

The pirate whipped the cloth over. It dropped, puddling on the floor, and Will stood transfixed to the spot.

"Jack!" Elizabeth rushed toward the painting and put her hands to her face, much delighted. "It's beautiful!"

As it turned out, Will hadn't needed to ask Jack to paint for them a family portrait. The pirate had done so and, with his expert hand, it was certainly the finest. Strangely enough, the family was dressed much as they were standing there ogling the painting—right down to the silk flowers Elizabeth had woven in her hair. That the likeness was astounding did not surprise Will, but he was much impressed that it was so without their posing for the pirate. It was every bit the way he imagined they would; Will with one arm around Elizabeth, she holding Little Lucy in her arms, Jack in front with those eyes glinting as bright as always they did, and all of them looking quite the happy family together.

"Figured you needed something like this," said Jack, fluttering fingertips around the edge of the gilt frame, "to pretty up something like—that."

Will followed his pointing finger to the empty space of wall.

"Good place for such a thing."

When Jack had complained about ruining surprises, Will had not thought through it. Now, as he stood there remembering the windows and the seal that was his own insignia above the stained glass ship, it dawned on him that the surprise was much bigger than he'd imagined. "The ship." He looked at Jack. "The ship is mine?"

"Oh good," cried Jack, "the surprise wasn't ruined afterall!"

"But…" Will glanced around at the decadence around him and frowned. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Where'd you get it?"

"Where did I get it?" Both of Jack Sparrow's brows rose. "Mister Turner, when a man gives another man a gift, the man that was given the gift isn't to inquire as to the getting of the gift the man has given him." The brows flicked a bit and snapped together. "Savvy?"

Will's own brows rose. "Jack."

"He is right, Will," said Elizabeth, having gotten over her awe of the painting to marvel at the beauty of the ship around them. "It's… impolite—to ask such things."

"Elizabeth!"

Jack's grin gleamed in the candlelight as he nodded his thanks at the lady.

Quite defeated, Will sighed.

Upon seeing his shoulders slump, Jack rolled eyes heavenward and wrapped an arm around him. "I know, I know. You've costly morals—a sense of propriety rather expensive." His breath drew and he sighed and his fingers fluttered over Will's shoulder. "Tis a fortunate thing," he said, pointing at a plaque on the wall, "I'm not the man giving the gift."

Will squinted. The parchment that had been fixed to the thing was worn, but beautiful—framed with fancy scrolls of green ink, the black, precise penmanship was certainly the same as he'd seen in his father's room. Glancing at Jack, who removed his heavy arm with a flourish, he stepped forward to read it.

There is but one matter of most importance in all the world left to me in this hour, the matter of he who is of my flesh and my blood. In this moment I write, I have no words to sweeten the bitter taste undoubtedly left in his mouth whenever his tongue speaks my name. There is no value in regret, nor do apologies hold merit. Past be damned. That which matters is that which lies ahead. What the future holds, what the sisters three bestows upon her, I cannot say nor predict nor hope for. Wishes are of different matter, and it is my wish that one day my son, William, might spit the taste from his mouth and sail free as I once did—unbeholden to anything save my own free spirit. A useless wish at this point it seems, but a man can only hope. In vain then I leave these trunks three, filled up with riches plenty. Should William Turner come upon them I pray he seeks an artisan to dream his swan and give her wings so that he and she might fly together toward the horizon. William Turner, 1687 December.

Overwhelmed, he watched as Elizabeth read it, her honey brown eyes skimming the script. A small smile crossed her lips, and she tilted her head, considering the words. When she squeezed his hand, he closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he nodded—at she, at the family present, and at the ship around them. To Jack Sparrow he looked. "I suppose she needs a name."

"Aye," said Jack, smiling a bit, "that she does."

"I think," said Will, glancing at his father's written words, and at Elizabeth, and at the graceful ship glowing around them, "she is The Swan."

"I think," said Jack quietly, "that that is just right."

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

"I don't know how to sail."

Jack tipped back the bottle—full and filled with fire—and drank from it, all the while gazing at the man sitting on the crate across from him. The sudden look of dismay upon Will Turner's face was so very amusing that Jack had to fight to keep a straight face. Behind the rum—slightly less full than before but just as fiery—his lip twitched. Swallowing hard—sweet blessed oblivion did the fire burn—he sobered.

"I mean, I do, but I'm not good at it." Will's brown eyes turned worriedly upon him. "Jack, what if I can not sail her?"

"And what if you can?"

Will frowned.

"Being the optimist that I am," said Jack, quite pleased that such had silenced Turner's bellyaching that was sobering his sundering, "and being that I've faith that somewhere, somehow, some part of you was meant for the sea… I have absolutely no doubts whatsoever, Will Turner, of your ability to sail The Swan." Seeing in his mind's eye an inept Will at the helm bringing about the swift demise of the delicate vessel, he winced. "But if not, there's always Elizabeth."

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

Keeping an eye on children was difficult. Keeping an eye on children aboard a ship was more so. Keeping an eye on children aboard a ship while dozens of pirates partied aboard was impossible, and Elizabeth found for the hundredth time that night that she could not find either of her children anywhere in sight. Giving up, she grabbed the nearest bottle of rum—which happened to be Isaac Faust's—and drank.

When she handed it back to him, he smiled. "Rough eve, m'lady?"

"Hectic."

"Not as hectic as the last time I saw you steal a man's rum, I hope?"

The reference to the eve she'd plopped herself in Mister Gibbs' lap at the poker table and taken Jack's mug blushed her bright, but the memory of her fiendish flirtation flushed her face with shame. Not only was she a married woman, but also she had played upon the emotions of the boy she knew fancied her more than he should. How wicked it had been of her—and wrong.

"Not nearly," she told him, smiling softly. She laid her hand on his. "But it was still no excuse for my actions then. I must apologize, Isaac. I was…" Her gaze fell upon the roast pig Cook had laid out on a long silver tray. "A pig."

Isaac snorted. "Now that's a bit too far, Elizabeth."

"Maybe so," she said, looking back at him, "but not much."

"Wasn't as if I minded," he pointed out.

"Indeed," she said quietly, "which is what makes me worse a swine." She shook her head at the bottle he offered. "You are quite a fine young man, Isaac Faust. Someday a fine young woman is going to come to realize that, and her heart will be yours to hold much as mine is Will's."

"Well there's no shame in that." He smiled. "Perhaps in Port Royal I will find such a lass come winter…"

"In Port Royal?" She frowned. "Winter?"

Isaac's blue eyes flicked from she across the ship to where sat Jack Sparrow and back again. A guilty blush reddened his cheeks, and he ducked his head and mumbled. "I've a position waiting me in the Commodore's office."

"You're enlisted?!" Elizabeth clamped a hand over her mouth, glancing as furtively at Jack Sparrow as had Isaac. Her eyes widened, and when she found herself able to control the volume of her voice, took her hand away to hiss at him. "When did this happen?"

"Two years prior," he admitted sheepishly. "In London."

"Jack doesn't know?"

"Not yet," Isaac said, blue eyes finding hers, "and you're not going to tell him."

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

Jack was trying to focus on Will Turner—whose fidgeting was not only contagious but also becoming somewhat of a dizzying influence—over the rim of the glass bottle, squeezing one eye—the other not of much cooperation—near to shut. Instead of the two Will's dancing before him, which were bad enough by all measures really, there were three. With a grimace and a shake he swallowed the last remaining bit of rum down his already scorched throat and chucked the bottle over his shoulder. That it made a thudding sound instead of a cracking one widened his eyes.

"Oi knocked 'im clear out, it did," said Toddul, blinking down at the miraculously still form of Shakes.

His tall friend Lemmy sighed. "Told him to look out."

"Sorry!" Over his shoulder, Jack winced. "He'll have a headache come morn."

"Oh he was gonna have a headache to begin with," said Toddul, a grin lifting his round cheeks. "Now he'll have a case of the shakes to go with it!"

Lemmy and Jack shared a frown but Toddul was already heaving the still Shakes over his shoulder. With a shrug and a grin at Jack he passed, slapping the unconscious bundle of nerves on the backside. Much to Jack's dismay, Shakes' reflexes kicked in and he shook.

"Even when he's out of it," sighed Lemmy as he followed his mates.

Jack shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut to rid himself of the image.

"Jack, I should like that mo—"

"Cap'n!" Gibbs' raspy voice cut Will off, the bright-eyed sailor thunking down on the crate beside young Turner. He nodded up at Roth and grinned at Jack, waggling his brows. "Best sit down for this!"

Jack frowned, leaning over to make sure that he was, indeed, sitting as he'd thought he was.

"Ye're never gonna believe it, Cap'n" said Roth.

With an apologetic glance at a shrugging Will Turner, Jack turned his attention to the two men who'd just joined them. He raised his brows up at Roth and cocked his head at Gibbs. "Well?"

"Earlier I run into the Ice Queen. Suspicious of me she was, and eyed me up and down she did. Made some small talk bout the weather we did. Turned to go and she says 'Jack knows don't he?' and I says 'Bout the weather, lass?'" Gibbs' blue eyes sparkled at him. "And ye know what she said?"

"Got any idea, Cap'n?"

Jack looked between the two men eager for his guess.

Roth smirked.

Gibbs grinned.

"Well." Jack arched a brow as he struggled to his feet. "Could be any number of things that fell from those lips of hers. But I'll wager me guess, gentlemen," he said, smirking at Roth and then at Gibbs, "that it was something to do with the correlation tweenst the lovely weather and the lady's romantic inclinations."

Gibbs and Roth frowned at each other, and Gibbs turned furrowed brows at Jack. "How'd ye know?"

"That," said the low voice of Anamaria, "is a very good question." The woman glared at all three of them—and at an innocent Will Turner for good measure—as she stalked around the mast to face them. She lifted her chin at Jack. "How did ya know?"

Roth paled. He reached for Gibbs' flask—an action that prompted the sailor to smack his hand away and slug from it himself. But Jack had enough sense not to look at them. No, he was gazing at the woman commanding his attention. He smiled at her and with a cluck of his tongue patted her on the shoulder.

"How else?"

Anamaria's eyes narrowed.

"Love!" He quickly withdrew his hand and flourished it in the air, a smirk lifting his lips. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow!" With that, and with a nod at Will, he whirled on his heel to stride over the Swan's gangway. Planting a heavy step on it, he turned back to wink at them. "Friends… with hopes that you enjoy the evening much as I intend to—I'm afraid I must bid you… adieu."

"What?" Elizabeth strolled up to stand beside Anamaria, her brown eyes watching Jack Sparrow saunter down the dock and across the black sand. As he disappeared into the grove of trees, she turned a curious gaze on Will. "Where's he off to in such a hurry?"

Her husband shrugged.

"My guess," said Anamaria, narrowing her eyes at a red-faced Roth, "is he's gone to make nice with the woman."

Isaac Faust shook his head, a flash of a smile lighting his countenance. "Think it'll last?"

"Till mornin, maybe," Gibbs conceded, shrugging his shoulders. He took a slug from his flask and winced. "But more'n likely not."

At the tug on her skirt, Elizabeth looked down to find her little girl smiling up at her. Little Lucy's brother breezed past. He jumped up on the crate Jack Sparrow had been sitting on and threw his arms out in the air much like a bird.

"Maybe he's searchin' for God," said the boy. He parked his hands on his hips and nodded at his mother. "You're always eager to find him on the eve of the Sabbath, mum!"

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

Outside the door, Jack Sparrow pressed an ear to it, eyes narrow. That there was silence and not crashes, bangs, or shrieks was most suspicious. Carefully, he pushed the door open and crept inside. Candles and lanterns had been lit for light, and to his surprise Alice Witter was indeed there, sprawled, lifeless, across the bed. With utmost caution—indeed, with both eyes wide open and one hand upon the hilt of his sword—he approached. The grey eyes that had been fixed upon the ceiling rolled back to meet his.

"You win."

Those words—Jack sighed, closing his eyes to relish them. Unable to help himself, he smiled and pressed his hands together in a silent prayer of thanks to whatever gods had at long last granted him such good fortune. Only more satisfying would be to hear them again, and so he feigned a frown and cocked his head. "Say again?"

Alice Witter sighed. "You win, Jack."

Oh, the sweet sounds of success, he thought. His approval of her words he murmured, laying a hand o'er his heart. When finally Jack felt he'd savored the satisfaction enough, he looked down at her and found her pout upon him. "Don't look so down, love," he told her, kicking off his shoes—pesky things that they were—and tossing aside his coat. "You are a formidable opponent…" With a flourish he popped the hat from his head. "But… afterall, m'lady…" Stalking around the side of the bed, he flicked the tricorn clean across the room, all but leapt atop her, and flashed what he definitely considered his most charming, dashing, brilliant grin. "It isn't every day you spar with Captain Jack Sparrow."

She looked up at him, startled. "But it is."

"Care to share in the spoils of victory, dove?"

Alice Witter smiled.

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

Whether or not Jack Sparrow found God, none of them knew, but the pirates—and Turners—soon tuckered out. Most had had the sense to retire to the fortress—Anamaria and Roth had been two of the first to run off, but where, exactly, they had run off to was anyone's guess—but some lay sleeping on the deck of the Swan. Their snores were as loud as their shouts, Will realized with a wince. He looked at his wife. Elizabeth had fallen asleep some time ago. Curled up on the many layers of her skirt she was with both sleeping children—Little Lucy snoozing in her brother's protective embrace.

"Bet you don't see that often."

Will turned over his shoulder to look at Isaac Faust—the only other person yet awake at such the hour. He bit back the bitter words on the tip of his tongue and shook his head. "No, not much."

"Staying here for the night?"

Around them, at the ship, Will glanced. "Yes," he said, nodding at it and at his family. "I think we shall."