Thank you for jedipati for the beta, and for the review. Both are very, very much appreciated.
Disclaimer: POTC belongs to Disney
"This is all spur of the moment," Will said.
"Oh, 'course." Jack nodded. "Just as deciding to cross swords with me was. An' you'd've lost, lad, if your master hadn't interfered." Jack smiled at Will's clenched jaw then marched over to look up the stairs. "You're a blacksmith. Thought you'd know spurs're sharp things an' doing anything on or of them is not recommended."
"I don't make spurs," Will said testily. "Silversmiths make spurs."
Jack shrugged and scurried to look down the hall. "Y'make swords." He frowned, listening. "Wouldn' that make you a swordsmith?"
"The swords are a side business."
Jack snorted then moved to the base of the stairs. "This," he pointed up, "is our only way out."
"How do you know there isn't a door that way?" Will pointed down the hall.
Jack wheeled on him. "Did you spend a night in here?"
Thud. Thud. Thud. Footsteps above. Will and Jack lunged for the shadows.
"Hello down there!" came a male voice.
Shoulder to shoulder, Jack and Will looked at each other. "Go, get him down here!" Jack hissed.
Will shook his head, "You're the prisoner; he'll–"
" –Get reinforcements!" Jack said.
"Then pretend a limp!"
The wall was pounded. "Who's talking down there?"
"You scared him;" Jack growled, "he'll get help!"
"Then hurry!"
Jack curled his lip then whirled around Will and staggered to the base of the stairs with a yelp. Catching himself on the wall–slap–he had a glimpse of a red uniform at the top of the stairs.
"Hey! What're you doing out of your cell?" the Marine demanded, bringing his musket to bear.
Gasping, Jack leaned weakly against the wall and put up his hands. "I kicked me way through th'door. Please, don't shoot me." He lowered his right leg to the ground, then jerked it back up and winced horrendously.
The Marine was young and he glared at Jack with more wariness than anger. Thinking, he looked over his shoulder. "Don't move."
Jack looked down at himself.
"Put that pistol on the ground! And the sword!"
Jack slumped. "Truly?"
The Marine drew a deep breath to call for help.
"Aigk!" Jack pointed across the hall. "A rat as big as me mother's Holy Bible!" He
collapsed.
He looked up.
The Marine was clutching his musket to his chest, eyes huge. Quickly he lowered the musket and flattened his expression. Jack covered his face and choked.
The Marine stepped down two stairs. "Take out your pistol and throw it away!"
With a sigh, Jack complied, tossing the pistol to the right. It clattered then abruptly stopped.
"And the sword!"
The sword clanged out of the Marine's sight. The young man stalked the rest of the way down. Jack stared up at him, holding his ankle and grimacing. "Don't move…don't even blink…" the Marine tensely put his bayonet inches from Jack's face.
Jack blinked at him.
"Put the gun down."
Will's voice, less than steady, issued from the shadows at the Marine's back. The Marine felt something cold and hard against his skull.
Jack smiled at the Marine. Then he kicked him in the shin. Quick as a flash he grasped the musket and leaped to his feet. Smugly, he began, "Just not your–"
Whump. The Marine jerked and fell to the floor.
Jack looked at Will.
"Ruin your monologue?" Will gasped. Jack frigidly dropped the musket and held out a hand, into which Will quickly deposited the pistol and then the sword.
Jack bent his head and stood silent for five weighty seconds. Then he painfully handed the sword belt and pistol back. "You'll wear these. And the uniform. Don't dawdle."
Minutes later, Will was wearing the coat and the pants and Jack's effects over his own clothing and looking a lot like an overstuffed pillow. Jack gathered up the Marine's shirt and spread the shirt on the floor. "Now." Jack lay down on the shirt. "Tie it around me. I've died and you're taking me to the place where dead people are going, which I don't know, because I've been sitting, stagnating, an' mostly rotting in the bowels of this place."
Will knelt and folded the shirt over Jack's face, chest, and middle. "This is absurd," he gulped.
"My advice–" Jack's voice was muffled, "grin an' enjoy it. And don't tie th'blasted stocking 'round me nose!"
"Sorry." Will wiped his forehead. "Sorry," he murmured, this time to the world in general.
He tied one stocking around what he thought was Jack's forehead and, with some effort, tied the other around his waist. Then he stood and looked at the half-shrouded body at his feet. He bent and tied the sleeves around Jack's chest.
Utterly flummoxed with himself, he bent down and, puffing, heaved Jack onto his shoulder. He stepped over the Marine's senseless form and struggled up the steps. He was relieved to find the antechamber of the jail empty. He leaned his free shoulder against a wall and tried to catch his breath.
With a shudder he straightened and shuffled forward. It had never been so hard to simply walk out a door. It took every inch of Will's resolve and an elbow in the kidney from Jack, and then Will was in the sunlight. He looked tensely across the courtyard.
Trailed by attendants, Norrington was marching out of the fort with his rolled-up map. Mr. Murtogg and his friend were nowhere to be seen. The Governor–Will looked around–was stood alone on a parapet, staring out to sea.
Will clenched his teeth and walked as briskly as he could toward the fort doorway. He tried not to look as if he was watching for extra glances or surprised stares. He got a few, but not one Marine hailed him.
"That's a very unorthodox shroud."
Will jerked to a stop as an officer stepped straight into his path. Panic suffused him as he took in the never-ending expanse of gold trim and white lace a foot from his eyes. Was this a lieutenant? A captain? He tried to salute with his left hand and looked up into flat gray eyes. He averted his own to the officer's shoes.
"Your lack of respect is excused in this situation, Marine," said the crisp voice. "The dead will be laid over there."
Will followed the officer's pointing finger to rows of bodies in the shadow of the west wall.
"I, this man," he glanced up again and saw a hard mouth. "He's a prisoner."
"That makes no difference." A pause. "That cannot be your uniform. What is your name?"
Will stared at the officer's shoes so hard, it was a wonder they didn't start curling. "Sw-Swaren."
"Swaren?"
"Sir, this man has family in the city," Will managed. "I…they asked me to bring him. He's dead now and can do no harm."
"They asked you?"
The officer's incredulity sent sweat trickling slimily down Will's neck. " I–I," he stammered, "he's, well, he's…" Oh! "It pains me to say this sir, for I've only ever tried to be the best, honest–" the word burned–"man I can be. But this man, he's…he's my uncle." He let himself slump.
"Oh. I see." Another pause. "What's his name?"
Will had the inexplicable urge to throw his head back and howl like a wolf. "Richard. Richard Swaren."
Silence.
The shoes had to curl. It was ridiculous that they did not.
"We all deal with family troubles, Marine. I myself have the misfortune of understanding your situation from personal experience."
Will looked up. The officer's chiseled face was regretful. He wasn't much older than Norrington. Will looked into those gray eyes as sadly as he could.
After a moment, the officer lifted his gaze over Will's head. "We must go on the best we can. Continue, Marine."
"Thank you sir," Will exhaled. He shook his head to clear it and walked, keeping his slump, out of the fort and down the road. He strode into the bruised city, trying to breathe.
He was struggling valiantly with a sudden need to run and run and run when Jack elbowed him again. "Oof!" He ducked into an alley and knelt, lowering Jack to the ground. Jack wriggled as Will untied the sleeves, and then Jack's arms burst out and pushed the stocking from his forehead. He sat up, smacked Will's hands away from his waist, and yanked the stocking so hard it snapped.
Will sat back on his haunches and looked at the pirate's sweaty, red face. "I've never lied so many times in one conversation," he muttered.
"Effects." Jack's hands extended.
Will pulled the uniform off and Jack's hat fell to the dirt along with his sword. Both were snatched up quickly. Will undid the belt, handed it over, then worked on getting out of the white breeches.
By the time he tossed the breeches aside, Jack was setting his hat in its place with a sigh. Far more composed now, the pirate looked the street over. It was full of distraught citizens, but the military was kindly absent.
"Waterfront," Jack said.
Will followed Jack underneath a stone bridge. They both splashed to one side of its arch and hugged the cool stone.
Out in the harbor before them, the hulking Dauntless was anchored near the cliffs, while just down the shore to the right, the Interceptor bobbed gracefully at her damaged dock.
Will's shoes were full of water and he did not especially appreciate the feeling, but he forgot it as he stood behind Jack, looking back and forth between the two beautiful vessels. "We're going to steal the ship." His wide-eyed gaze followed Jack's to the docked Interceptor, and he winced. "That ship?"
"Commandeer," Jack corrected, with enthusiasm that indicated happily dry feet inside tall boots. "We're going to commandeer that ship." He pointed out across the water to the Dauntless. Noting Will's unhappy confusion he added helpfully, "Nautical term."
They watched the sailors, officers, and workers swarming about the Interceptor's dock. There probably were about thirty men, but it looked like a hundred to Will.
"One question about your business, boy. Or there's no use going." Jack put his back to the dock and faced Will intensely. "This girl. How far are you willing to go to save her?"
"I'd die for her!"
"Oh, good!" Jack turned back toward the dock. "No worries, then."
On the snowy beach, fishing dinghies rested hulls-up. A troop of soldiers, sweating in the sun, jogged down a small path between the small watercraft and the shade of palm trees. Headed for the relief of the Interceptor's shady dock, they hurried past the last dinghy without a glance to either side.
The instant they were gone, the disregarded vessel lifted a foot off the sand. For an instant, it hovered, revealing two pairs of feet. Then the feet scuttled forward, straight into the water. The feet splashed out further and further, until the rowboat disappeared beneath the surface like a mutant sea turtle.
Some time later, Jack and Will were striding slowly through the murky blueness. The pilings of a dock stretched off to their right like a line of dead trees, but neither of them saw this. Neither of them saw the shadow of the dock high above, nor the sun that filtered through ghost-planks, nor the school of surprised fish that darted away from their slowly treading feet. Their heads were in a pocket of stuffy air trapped in the curve of the rowboat's interior, and they were concentrating on holding it above them.
"This is either madness–or brilliance," Will said to the back of Jack's head.
Jack's feet were certainly wet now, boots or no. His upper lip curled. "It's remarkable how often those two traits coincide."
Will's right shoe came down on something with a crunch and he looked down with a quiet exclamation. His foot had smashed into the middle of a wood crab trap complete with caught crabs. Awkwardly, he tried to pull his foot free, but Jack Sparrow was not slowing for anything.
So Will walked, and the crabs came jostling with him.
On the surface, a small barrel marking the trap danced over the waves with a mind of its own, catching the amazed eyes of the Harbormaster's young, chocolate-skinned assistant, who was spending some quality time with his fishing pole and the miserable Jolly Mon.
How Jack knew which way to go Will could never guess, and he did not have the desire or time to try. After they reached what apparently was Dauntless' shadow, they let the tiresome rowboat go and swam up to the surface.
Relieved to be breathing fresh air again, they tread water near the massive rudder of the Dauntless, though Will flailed more than he tread, thanks to the crab trap, which was still secured to his foot.
Jack gazed up at the Dauntless. It stretched up more than two stories, all flawless carvings and blue and gold paint. Tricky.
After a few moments, and a few splashes in the face from poor Will, Jack turned on the youth impatiently. Will was trying to pry the trap off while keeping his head above the water, and he gave Jack an embarrassed look.
"What?" Jack attempted to swim closer, but got splashed again as Will's arms slapped about. "Apologiebbs–" Will gurgled into the waves, trying to look down and keep his face up at the same time.
"Oh–" Jack rolled his eyes when he saw the problem. "Stop–stop!" he ordered Will, who obeyed and stared at him. "Go grab the rudder," said Jack.
"Pardon?" There were gallons of water in Will's ears.
"Grab the bloody rudder!" Jack raised his voice further than was safe, but understanding crossed Will's features and he did what he was told. Once Will had his fingertips hooked into the Dauntless' crusty rudder,Jack slashed away the soggy trap. He caught it before it could sink and showed it to Will. "There's no crabs in it," he growled, and then got a mouthful of brine that had some loose crab trap in it, which he spat out.
"No, there aren't," Will agreed in a strange voice, "they're all on my foot." He lifted his foot out of the water.
Three mid-sized crabs were clutching folds of Will's shoe in death-grips with their free claws. Spiny and colorful, the sea creatures moved their legs experimentally in the air, feelers waving, eye stalks peering, as they gestured like tourists.
Jack silently berated them for not catching hold of Will's actual foot, too.
"Get them off." Will's voice was tight.
"They're crabs, haven't you seen crabs before?" Jack demanded.
"Yes."
Jack shook his head when Will said nothing more. With quick flicks of his wrist, he yanked the crabs right off and tossed them away. Will gave a barely-repressed sigh of relief, released the rudder, and began to tread water like a human being. Jack grimly reeled in the crab trap.
With as little of Will's help as was possible, Jack made a tangled mess of the rope all over the rudder, and then they began the most tedious process of all: climbing the Dauntless' balcony-graced rear. Neither wanted to remember it, but it took a lot of burning arm muscles and tying off rope here and there. And Jack, always above Will, dripped water on the blacksmith the entire time.
"Eight." Murtogg shook the dice in the cup.
Mullroy sneered. The rest of the sailors crowding around the barrel crowded closer as Murtogg lifted his hand to roll the dice.
Thump. "Everybody stay calm! We're taking over the ship!"
Everybody turned to gape at the two men who stood together on the sunlit main deck, mere feet away. "Aye!" Will brandished a sword. "Avast!"
Everybody erupted into laughter as Sparrow gave Turner a glare that would singe the hair off an elephant. Then everybody looked at the business end of the pistol Sparrow extended. The laughter faded. Gillette stepped forward. "You're serious about this."
The muzzle of the pistol slid to target his forehead. "Dead serious," Sparrow said.
"You understand this ship cannot be crewed by only two men." Gillette smirked. "You'll never make it out of the bay."
"Son." The safety on the pistol clicked free. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. Savvy?"
Gillette realized his eyes had crossed and quickly blinked them straight. He cleared his throat. "Sir, I'll not see any of my men killed or wounded in this foolish enterprise."
"Fine by me." Jack jerked his chin toward his shoulder. "Use one of your nice little boats so you all can get back to shore, safe an' sound."
Gillette nodded sharply. "Agreed. You have the momentary advantage, sir. But I will see you smile from the yardarm, sir."
Jack's golden teeth flashed beneath his mustache. "As likely as not. Will, short up the anchor, we've got ourselves a ship!"
Once most of the sailors had angrily climbed down into the dismayed lifeboat, Jack had time to turn and see Will straining heroically at the capstan and moving nothing. Jack looked at Gillette. Gillette looked at Jack.
"A little help?" Jack said.
Gillette squinted his eyes. "Murtogg, Mullroy." The two Marines obediently turned and moved to the capstan, each taking hold of a spoke.
Jack motioned with his pistol, smiling pleasantly, and Gillette curtly stepped up to the spoke in front of Will. Grunting, the four threw their weight forward and with a muted groan the capstan began to rotate.
"I can't believe he's doing this," Murtogg said when he couldn't see Jack or the pistol.
"You didn't believe he was telling the truth, either," Mullroy gasped.
Gillette glanced back at Will. "Do you have any idea, boy, what you're doing?"
Will averted stormy eyes and pushed harder. "No."
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