A/N: I'll be gone for the next two weeks so this will be the last update until July 3rd. My apologies but I won't have internet access. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!
Chapter 7: Missing
"Ah, Turner, you aren't dead yet, I see." Hawthorne laughed mirthlessly as he approached the bound blacksmith.
"So sorry to disappoint but unfortunately for you, I intend to say alive for many, many years." The dark eyes were as resilient and powerful as ever.
Hawthorne stiffened. How could this man stay so strong after hours in the heat and a night in the cold? His ire rose rapidly with each moment the battle of wills continued. "Turner, this punishment was to teach you to be submissive to your superiors. I do not believe you have learned that yet."
Abruptly Will's expression changed to mock surprise. "Oh, really? I hadn't thought of that. I thought this had to do with a man refusing to be forcibly taken from his home and press-ganged into an army he knows nothing about."
Hawthorne was about to vent his rage on the younger man when a cool, calculated voice interrupted. "Mr. Turner, strong words. You best be on your guard. Someone might think you were being treasonous." Colonel Edwards emerged from a hut nearby.
"Colonel Edwards," Hawthorne scraped up the remainders of his poise and saluted him crisply. "I must request permission to lengthen the sentence."
"That will not be necessary, Captain."
"But-"
"Captain, Mr. Turner is a former blacksmith. He is used to discomfort. This will do nothing that it has not already done."
Hawthorne felt his cheeks reddening in frustration. Why didn't he think of that?
"I believe a more suitable penalty is to give him three days in this establishment as a regular soldier. Perhaps here he will begin to accept the offer we present him with. After all, hunting down Sparrow is not such a difficult task. He would be in comfort on board the Waking Power and he would also receive a considerable sum of money upon Sparrow's arrest." Edwards seemed to be speaking more to Turner than to Hawthorne now. "Does that sound so revolting?"
The blacksmith remained silent.
"I see he is determined to go about this the hard way." The Colonel smiled thinly. "Captain, take some of your men and escort Mr. Turner to Lieutenant Briggit."
"Aye, sir." Hawthorne snapped another salute at the Colonel's retreating form and then whirled on Will.
In silence, he let two of his subordinates release the young man and yank Turner towards the barracks.
Oh yes, he thought, you will aid us, Turner. If it takes years, we will get you to track down Sparrow.
--
Jack gazed over the shredded supplies lying haphazardly across the main deck. "Where is that monkey?" he snapped. "I feel an unrelenting need to shoot somethin'."
Most of his discontent rested before him in the form of shattered rum bottles. He would have really appreciated a bottle of that liquid gold to drown his problems in.
And he had problems. Boat loads of them.
First of all there was his ship to repair, supplies to restock, crew to reimburse, an overly sensitive pregnant woman's husband to find, and a debt to-
"Jack! Elizabeth's gone missing." Gibbs, the Pearl's first mate ran up breathlessly.
"Wot?"
"She's gone. None of us had seen her since the storm. I told you it was terrible back luck to bring a woman on board. Now she's gone and brung us a bought of bad weather in her place."
Jack paused, a finger poised over his mouth. "When you say gone…do you mean not present, unavailable, vamoosed or passed on from this life int' the next?"
"Gone as in left, not aboard the Pearl, Cap'n."
"Oh." He didn't sound perturbed at all.
"What do you plan to do about it?"
"Me? Nothin'."
"Cap'n, you know Will…'e isn't gonna like us just leavin' 'er."
The pirate captain grimaced, envisioning the blacksmith's reaction if he ever found out. "Stupid bloody whelp."
--
"Wake up!" Unsympathetic hands heaved Will off his pallet and onto the sandy floor. "I said, wake up, you lousy, sluggish weevil!"
Will could have socked the man in the nose but instead swallowed his anger bitterly and staggered to his feet, still trapped in last stages of sleep before one wakes.
"Private Fredrick needs you out on the western gates. You are to help expand the walls of this outpost, ya hear?" A particularly large man with a wide girth stood before him, an irritated expression on his meaty, pock-marked face and a musket in his fleshy hands.
To answer, Will pushed away the hand clutching the collar of his coat and stumbled towards the door.
The sun was beating ruthlessly on the already dry landscape and it looked to be only just after dawn.
Two pairs of hands fell on his shoulders and he whirled, primed to let loose a string of heated words about how he could find the western gates on his own when a nervous, diluted voice interjected,
"Turner, you will accept the escort provided you." The newcomer had thoughtful, dark gray eyes and emaciated features. It was a sad, quiet face one would see on a somber child.
"And you are?"
"Lieutenant Briggit." The bony young man pivoted to face the portly soldier and his friend. "You may carry on with your duties. Turner will submit or face punishment."
Simmering in wrath, Will let himself be manhandled to the edge of the fort, handed a spade, and told to dig in a designated area.
It was for Lord knows how many hours that he labored under the pale sun. And yet again it was not the heat or the quick pace at which he was required to work it was a nagging sense of urgency to get back home to Elizabeth that left his heart aching.
--
"Charles! This is positively divine! What on earth possessed you to devise such an event?" A woman of twenty-two years gushed at her husband, Charles Blanchard. She was a petite little thing with a delicate face, porcelain white skin, and silky black hair.
"Well, I thought that it was fitting considering we just reached our fifth anniversary."
"You think I need a reminder?" The woman giggled merrily. "Oh, Charles, really this is wonderful! I don't think I've ever seen a ship so beautiful!"
"It is her maiden voyage, Emma, most ships are beautiful before getting roughed up by the sea."
She smacked him lightly, green eyes twinkling. "Charles, stop me such a bore. You know what I mean."
"Of course I did." He leaned in and kissed her gently, his wife, however, returned the kiss politely and then pulled away.
"Charles, really! The crew might see us!" Emma felt her cheeks heating at his embrace and the eyes of the Watcher's crew falling on them.
"Let them look." Charles teased lightly.
"Why I ever married you…" she shook her head in mock distress. "Such behavior is not to be borne."
"Then what is my dear?"
But Emma was no longer listening. "Charles…" her hand clutched at his sleeve, the knuckles turning white. "What is that?" A trembling finger pointed out on the cerulean waves to a floating object still yards and yards away.
Charles leaned forward and squinted against the brilliant sun. "I'm not sure."
"It can't be a…person…can it?"
"Emma, as I have told you before, your imagination is far too overactive." Yet the words lacked fervor and the sympathetic caress that usually accompanied them, his eyes still glued to the object.
"Man overboard ahead, starboard side!" A sentry high above them bellowed.
The color drained from Emma's face. "Charles, do something. Please. What if-"
"I'll take care of it, Emma." Charles smiled at her, pried her fingers loose, and darted down the stairs to find the captain.
Emma remained peering over the railing at what looked like a piece of driftwood and a pile of sodden clothes. Surely pirates had not attacked…surely they were safe…
The "man" turned out to be a woman and as they lifted her onto deck, wrapping her firmly in wool blankets and calling for water to be heated, Emma saw the swollen midsection of the obviously young woman and her breath hitched.
This girl was with child! Five or six months along…possibly seven…it was hard to say with the slight figure.
"Charles!" Emma gathered up her copious amounts of skirts, silently ranting at whoever had invented such an unpractical fashion, and clumped down the steps.
"Emma, please don't worry yourself, darling. You know what I think about that…"
Predictably, his wife had pushed ahead and was bending over the drenched woman who was still unconscious and unresponsive.
"The poor dear!" Emma crooned over the still form. "Charles, we must get her warm." She yanked off her soft cotton shawl and draped it around the woman before her. "She must be freezing in this weather. Here, take her to our cabin." Emma pointed back to their spacious set of rooms in the stern of the vessel. "Yes, that way. Gently, now."
"Emma," Charles took her hand tenderly. "Emma, please. You will wear yourself out."
"I'll be fine." She assured him softly. "I promise." With a quick grin, she turned and followed the entourage carrying the stray woman.
"Charles, what on earth is happening?" A deep voice broke the young man's worried thoughts.
"Emma is at it again."
An older man with a long powdered white wig stepped next to Charles and nodded in understanding. "Caring for others before herself…she does it well, true?"
"Yes, father." Charles's eyes remained on the cabin door where his wife had left his sight.
"And you think too well, I imagine?"
"Yes."
"Your mother was the same way, Charles. Women have a need to fuss over things. I should not think it would hurt to let her tend to this poor girl." He paused, seeing his son's expression. "She does know her limits."
"Yes, she does but often forgets to pay attention to herself, I'm afraid."
"While this pregnancy has been hard for her, I have complete faith that Emma would think of her child before this stranger. Your wife is a clever female, Charles. Trust her in this."
--
Will collapsed onto his pallet, an inch thick in brown dirt. Sweat had created mud streaks on his arms and face, clearing away little paths on his tan skin.
The dark earth had filled into the crevices in his clothing and burned his eyes horribly. Raising one soiled hand, he ran it through his hair, pushing back the short curly strands. Dust and grime fell liberally from the simple action.
He was exhausted but one thing was clear. He was getting out of here. Leaving. Going back home to Elizabeth. This was not the military. It was blackmail and he was through with it. He didn't know when he would make his move and he didn't know how.
All he knew that he had to get out, get away.
TBC...