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Disclaimer: POTC belongs to Disney
Unimpeded by weather, the Interceptor made good time. Over the two days it took to travel up the Jamaica channel and through the windward passage, Will equated himself tolerably with his situation, performed the tasks Jack asked of him, and rattled around the Interceptor, sleeping badly in different bunks each night. Jack slept occasionally in the captain's quarters and seemed to dismiss Will's behavior as one does a lunatic's.
They slipped between the giant arms of Tortuga island right after the sun slid behind the horizon for the third night. Will, resting after securing the canvas and lowering the anchor, stood at the rail and stared at the harbor encircling him.
The island rolled mysterious green shoulders under the stars, odd flashes here and there amidst strangling flora. At the center of the harbor's circle, the lit wave of the town crested up the front of a mountain. If Will squinted at the buildings and streets, they seemed to writhe. He sniffed the air. There was rot, smoke, brine…and an odd, distasteful odor he had never smelled before.
Once, Will had fled the Brown's house in the evening and climbed up to Fort Charles. Night had fallen when he turned his eyes down to Port Royal and he had thought the clear light of it beautiful. But he'd never seen a light like Tortuga's. It covered more area and it was somehow thicker, staler…more orange. Uneasy. Degraded. Fascinating. Even the dark water looked intriguingly thick, choppy, and dull.
Boots thumped up beside Will. Jack leaned against the rail. When Will looked at him, he was beaming at the infamous refuge of Caribbean scum. "'Tortoise Island,' it is, in our language. We can't be gone too long," he continued. "I lit a lamp in th'captain's quarters, but that won't fool a curious rat for long…though I'm hopin' the British colors'll be discouragement enough."
Will wondered how Jack was going to speedily recruit an entire crew. Will grew anxious when he realized it might involve Will in a way Will did not want to be involved.
Jack glanced at Will and his smile widened. "I've got me connections, boy, there's no need t'fret your valiant head."
Will turned and followed Jack across the quarterdeck and helped him unlash the lifeboat. "Did you just compliment me?" he grunted.
"Wot, th'valiant head?" As they pulled the lifeboat up into the air, Jack let his line go slack for an instant, forcing Will to compensate. "You believe being valiant is praiseworthy, then."
"Of–course!" Will strained as they lowered the lifeboat down the Interceptor's side. The boat smacked the water and both men gasped with relief.
"You really are just a blacksmith who practices three hours a day wi'the thousand swords he makes as a side business, aren't you?" Jack snatched up a lantern, nimbly climbed down into the boat, and worked to untie the lines.
Will made sure he had both hatchet and sword before following slowly. He sat silently and watched Jack arrange the oars.
Jack looked at Will.
"Yes," said Will.
Jack's cheekbones caught the blue moonlight and the gold glow of the lantern, as did the coin hanging over his ruby head tie. "'at's the spirit. Here. I've rowed enough." He shoved the oars into Will's hands.
Will rolled his aching shoulders and started rowing.
Tortuga had seemed to writhe when half a mile of water had lain between it and Will's fatigued eyes, but at least it had been silent. Now, as it drew closer and closer to his back, he increasingly fought the urge to look over his shoulder because what had been faint humming was rapidly becoming a racket. Port Royal always roared but Tortuga bellowed, bellowed like Port Royal had as the Black Pearl launched itself at her throat. There was no faltering of noise, only swelling. And swelling. And swelling.
Will was captivated by the water on his right, the ripples of which suddenly gleamed gold.
"A bit to the right if you please, Mr. Turner," Jack said merrily. "This would be a bash we won't be wantin' to bash into."
Will finally looked over his shoulder, as he pulled on the left oar. A brig loomed up out of the water ten yards off. Will froze mid-pull, jaw slackening. The brig was on fire!
It wasn't. Torches fixed to gun ports and rails and masts and spars made the ship ripple, blazing red and yellow and suffocating under a veil of smoke. The charred remains of sails flapped in the rising waves of heat and the windows of the captains quarters gaped to show a press of carousing people like Will had never seen before. Shoving, laughing, eating, they grabbed onto the edges of the windows to keep from falling out.
Jack kicked him in the shin.
"Rule number one," Jack said. "Keep rowing."
Will tried, but the sharp report of a pistol made him twist back around. A man tumbled from the brig's quarterdeck, and the crowd in the captain's quarters shrieked at him as he passed. They leaned out to laugh at him as he floated away, facedown and unmoving.
Jack kicked Will again, his face turning grim. "Rule number two, boy. People here take staring as a challenge or longing t'join them, both of which boil down to you getting hurt. Now either adhere t'rule number one, or please, get out an' get in a pickle by yer lonesome."
Will gritted his teeth and threw his back into rowing. The brig slid by, and the right side of his face grew slightly warm from its fires. He glanced one more time as they left the brig behind and saw all the decks were packed with people bearing bottles and guns and clubs and ratty fans. They hung from the spars, the surviving ratlines…one lady fainted and fell onto the carousers below, likely from breathing too much smoke. Even the bowsprit was crowded. A man leaped from it to the water, his shirt on fire. Will could hear his companions howling with mirth.
After some clear water, Will threaded his way between two massive ships that sat dead silent in the water. Creaking, they blocked the noise somewhat, giving the feel of a midnight vacuum of anything alive. Will's neck prickled with the feeling of being watched, but when he glanced up, he saw only gaping black gun ports and deserted rail.
He was glad to slide free of the ships' eerie quiet, but coming out from between them was like stepping into the middle of a party. Dinghies and dories and all manner of floating devices crowded the water, and their passengers all seemed to be infected with the same sickness that drove them to communicate only at the tops of their lungs.
"Rum! Rum and fried chicken! Fresh mussels! Go down like cream!" The man selling tilted his head back and tipped the gray contents of a shell into his rotting mouth, his throat undulating as he swallowed it.
"Gentlemen! Oh, handsome, weary gentlemen! Come join Brigit and her sisters; we'll refresh you like a wave of spring water!"
Will took one glance at the gaudy women floating some yards off and sighed. He thought of the quiet rail of the Interceptor and wished that he were leaning against it right now.
One glance at Jack revealed his sentiments to be precisely the opposite. The pirate was waving to the ladies, who cooed in return. Will must have had a severe expression on his face, because Jack took one look at him and laughed. "Try the dock off yonder," he said with a lazy gesture, and then turned back to the women.
Will looked, and saw a dock that was half empty in the middle of a waterfront that was so cluttered it was almost impossible to move. Feeling deep a misgiving, he obeyed, barely avoiding a collision with a train of three dories stuffed with drinking couples. "Just Mereed" had been painted on the hulls and no one was bothering to kiss just hands.
When the lifeboat thumped the dock, no one jumped out to drive Will away. The long stretch of wood was deserted, all the way to shore. Will climbed out and, unsteady on his sea legs, prepared to secure the lifeboat.
A hand landed on his arm. The fingers were knobby and weathered. Will turned.
He looked into the endless black eyes of a warrior. The watchful flatness of the gaze made Will lunge to his feet and almost fall backward, his neck prickling.
The man stood as well, deliberately, smoothly, unfolding a dark body that, clad only in breeches, seemed every inch alive with squiggles that looked like faces and then animals and then disgusting growths. Tattoos, Will realized breathlessly. The man was no taller than Will, but where Will was simply muscled this man was powerfully toned and there was a sharp danger in the way his black hair was pulled tightly back from his face, with its high cheekbones and hairline mouth.
The man flicked one wrist and a blade was in his hand. Will got a glimpse of a wrist sheath made to match the tattoos on the inside of the man's wrist before the blade was at this throat. He hadn't even thought to grab his hatchet, he was so shocked.
"You wish to leave your vessel at Daizon's dock?" the man said, in perfectly accented English.
The question felt like a threat. Speechless, Will looked at Jack, who was delicately picking his way across the lifeboat. The pirate glanced up. "Oh yes, of course."
Jack had just sentenced Will to death in one of the most obscene places in the Caribbean. The cold knife would slice his throat and he'd fall back into the water and it would close over his face and Elizabeth would never be rescued and instead die–
Daizon smiled. All his teeth were gold but the yellow color was disgusting. "Then you will answer my riddle. I love riddles; they separate the gold from the silt. If you end up silt, well," Daizon pressed. The knife broke Will's skin. Will gaped, trying not to swallow to violently.
"Jack?" He looked to Jack, who just smiled pleasantly. If I survive I'm going to cut his fingers off one by one.
Without shifting, Daizon began to speak.
"I am sometimes strong
and sometimes weak,
But I am nobody's fool.
For there is no language that I can't speak,
Though I never went to school.
"Now. I'm going to count in my head each man who couldn't answer my riddles, each man who lies below your feet on the floor of the ocean. When I finish you will give me an answer."
The uproar all around faded into vibrating stillness. Will's mind scrabbled desperately over the words of the riddle, but the stinging on his neck stifled any reasoning. He wondered if he just let himself fall backwards if his fate would be more merciful. Pulse pounding, he looked again to Jack, who seemed to be pondering something. Probably the women in the harbor, Will thought wrathfully.
Daizon's eyes were distant and his lips moved rapidly.
Jack's eyes gleamed suddenly at Will.
"Fifty-three. Fifty three men." Daizon's eyes focused.
"Fifty-three," Jack mouthed, "fifty three men." Then again, "Fifty three. Fifty three men."
Daizon smiled. "Give me my answer or join the rest in the blackness."
Will, through his panic, saw Jack's lips forming Daizon's words again, only after Daizon said them, Give me my answer or join the rest in the blackness. Give me my answer or join –
Then it struck. No, it couldn't be.
Diazon bared his teeth and the muscles on his arm bulged.
"Echo," Will whispered.
Daizon's eyes were cold. He slipped the tip of the dagger around Will's jaw to behind his ear, then leaned close.
Paralyzed, Will stared into those eyes and wondered why he had ever decided to leave England.
"I will let no harm come to your vessel. Well thought." With the lightest rush of air, Daizon drew back and the dagger disappeared. Jack was already bowing and clasping his hands. Exhaling sharply, Will bent in half, hands on knees, trying to get the blood to go back into his head.
"Come along," Jack said.
Will straightened. Daizon was nowhere to be seen. Putting his hand to his throat Will turned on Jack with a ferocious glare.
Jack held up a finger. "Don't be swellin' all wrathful at me. Believe it or no, you're the only one who thought y'couldn't do it."
If there were businesses other than taverns and brothels in Tortuga, Will reflected, they had to be hidden very well. Then he realized Jack was talking to him.
"We need a crew," the pirate was saying loudly. "We c'n manage the ship between islands, but th'open sea, that's another matter. An' this's the place to get one. But half of a' it's the experience. Crews are nice, but more importantly, it is indeed a sad life that's not breathed deep this sweet and proliferous bouquet that is Tortuga. Savvy?"
Pushing past a leafy vine, he snatched a gold-tipped cane from a man who, running after another man, had been wielding it like a club. "What do you think?" He stopped and turned to Will, angular face lit by Tortuga's stagnant orange light.
Will looked at the mountain of rum barrels that gurgled only feet away. Men and women alike sprawled atop it, gulping the stuff from streams and mugs like desert wanderers at an oasis. Out in the square before them, cackling men were shooting at each other, others were being dragged in the dust behind wagons, and another unfortunate one was being tossed off a rickety balcony. Animals and women mixed into it all, and sulfur, smoke, perfume, food, and filth filled the air, the whole world.
"It'll linger," Will finally said, and continued to look in every direction possible, hopefully without seeming to.
"I'll tell you, mate, if every town in the world were like this one, no man would ever feel unwanted." Jack turned, then straightened with delight. "Scarlett!" He lurched toward a busty redhead. Will followed.
The slender woman sauntered up, smirked her dark lips, and slapped Jack across the face so hard his head twisted to Will's shocked one. "Not sure I deserved that," Jack grimaced.
When Jack sheepishly straightened, an equally gaudy blonde had replaced Scarlett.
"Giselle!" Jack exclaimed, cautiously.
"Who was she?" the willowy woman tilted her face after Scarlett.
"What?"
Giselle whacked Jack across the face then marched away. Jack couldn't meet Will's eyes. "I may have deserved that."
"May?" was Will's curt response. "Tell me Jack, how many more old…paramours do you plan on running into? And while you're at it, would you care to notify me of the next time I'm to almost die to help you? Perhaps, when we find a place to stay?"
Jack looked at Will like he was crazy. "No, it's likely you'll find death's hand at your throat before we even consider searching out a place to stay." He swaggered off and Will followed, flinching as a bullet whizzed past his head.
They made their way up deafening, narrow canyons formed by deteriorating buildings whose spines no longer held them erect, passing through clouds of smoke that smelled sweet and odd to Will, passing by attempted garroting and men cheering a boxing match in a ring of fire. The shadows thrashed with humans whose business was too ugly for the torchlight and there was hardly a window without someone hanging out of it. Will nearly tread on Jack's heels countless times, he was so nervous they would be separated.
Suddenly, Jack turned and squatted down beside a one-wheeled cart. Will followed and the pirate met his gaze. A golden strip of light coming through the broken slats ran over Jack's eyes, enhancing an abrupt otherworldliness to the pirate that made the hair on Will's arms stand up straighter then it already was.
"Do not look, but we're being followed."
"What?" Will began to turn; Jack smacked his face forward again.
"We know you're an ignoramus; please, don't act like a deaf ignoramus."
"Do you know who it is?"
Jack's liquid eyes squinted, shifted to the right, then disappeared under the pirate's eyelids. "It's a lackey of a kind benefactor who's taken it 'pon himself t'arrange armed welcoming parties for me wherever I go. Let's keep moving."
"But–" Will sputtered as he moved after the mincing pirate, making an obvious effort not to look back. Jack never responded. Will had no choice so he just followed, the knowledge of a stalker causing him to step on Jack's heels twice.
Jack suddenly made a beeline across the street and into a tavern. Right before going through the beaten doors, Will glanced up to see a sign with a shackled woman in a white dress crowned by the words The Faithful Bride.
Inside was somewhat calmer than the street, but not by much. Maids with trays scurried about, calmly dodging fists and careening bodies. The air was like sewer soup, the only light from candles giving a bloated yellowness to the entire place. Will was trapped against the bar by two brawling men, and he saw Jack sidling up to the bartender. Keeping an eye on Jack and the men who were writhing on the floor, Will watched the tavern's entrance.
A tall, tall dark man who looked like he hadn't eaten in weeks skittered through the doors and toward the stairs. Another younger man came in with two laughing women on each arm. A stick of an Oriental with baggy clothes followed, slumping exhaustedly.
Then another man with a ratty hat pulled over his eyes sidled into the shadows. He looked around slowly, then focused in Jack's direction. Will's eyes narrowed.
The man's head turned toward Will and Will quickly looked away.
Jack was suddenly at his side. "We need to go out back."
Sticking close to Jack once more, Will risked one glance back. The ratty hat was turning to follow their movement.
Never had Will's nose been assaulted by such a smell. Breathing shallowly, he peered over Jack's shoulder at the pigsty. There was a man there in the mud, sound asleep with his head pillowed on one of three dozing pigs.
Unbelievable.
Jack took one look at the man, snatched up a slop bucket, and marched to the rain barrel. Will, still reeling at the stench, took up the second slop pail and filled his with rainwater. He arrived at Jack' side just as Jack tossed his rainwater onto the sleeping man, who gave a violent start, pulling a dagger from his belt.
"Curse you for breathin', you slack-jawed idiot!" he howled.
Jack waited for the other to get a good look at him. Then Jack smiled as the other man's face lit like a sunrise.
"Mother's love!" the man exclaimed as he sheathed his dagger. "Jack!" His face went solemn. "You should know better than to wake a man when he's sleepin'. It's bad luck."
"Ah. Fortunately, I know how to counter it." Jack moved companionably forward. "The man who did the waking buys the man who was sleeping a drink. The man who was sleeping drinks, while listening to a proposition from the man who did the waking."
The drunk stared, then smiled brightly. "Aye, that'll about do it." He extended his hand let Jack pull him out of the mud.
Jack stepped back and Will hurled forth the contents of his bucket in a second bath. The drunk shook his head like a dog. "Blast! I'm already awake!"
"That was for the smell." Will said evenly. He forgot his disgust as he recognized this man from his time on the Dauntless; this was a very unkempt Mr. Gibbs!
Mr. Gibbs sputtered, and then sheepishly shrugged.
Beautiful, beautiful amber ambrosia, nectar of the…th'sugar cane… Precious drinks in hand, Jack sauntered untouched through Faithful Bride's chaos. On his way he passed an overwhelmed Will, who was plastered to a wood column. He paused at the younger man's shoulder, glancing at everything as if noticing it for the first time.
"Keep a sharp eye," Jack told him gravely, then walked on a few feet to a quiet table where Mr. Gibbs waited for him. He sat, pushing a tankard into Mr. Gibbs' eager hand.
"Now. What's the nature of this venture a' yourn?" Mr. Gibbs leaned toward Jack as he took a drink.
Jack seemed to brace himself. "I'm going after the Black Pearl."
Mr. Gibbs choked. He lowered his tankard and pounded his chest, glancing around.
"I know where it's going to be," Jack said, "and I'm going to take it." He smiled, head cocked in his peculiar way.
Mr. Gibbs' head was shaking. "Jack, it's a fool's errand." He glanced nervously about. "You know better 'an me the tales of the Black Pearl."
"That's why I know what Barbossa is up to. All I need is a crew."
"From what I heard of Barbossa, he's not a man to suffer fools, nor strike a bargain with one."
"Well, I'd say it's a very good thing I'm not a fool then, aye?"
"Prove me wrong. What makes you think Barbossa will give up his ship to you?"
Jack leaned in. "Let's just say it's a matter of leverage, mate."
Gibbs frowned. "Huh?"
Jack swiveled his head toward Will, looked to Gibbs, then did it again. "Hnnn..."
Gibbs squinted, shook his head, "Nnn..."
"Hnn? Hnnnn!" Jack jerked his head at Will, paused, then comically exaggerated the movement, dark eyes wide.
Gibbs finally turned and saw Will, who was trying to ignore a merrily huge woman who, among other misconceptions, thought she was coyly nudging Will while shoving him so hard that he stumbled to the side.
Gibbs' nose wrinkled upward, and with it all of his dirty face. "The kid?"
Jack nodded once. "That is the child of Bootstrap Bill Turner." He placed the words like gold coins on the table between them.
Gibbs' eyes went wide, his whole face un-puckering.
"His only child," murmured Jack. "Savvy?"
"Is he now." Gibbs looked to Will again.
Poor Will had regained his place against the column and was suffering an ugly look from an uglier man who was pulling the still-chortling woman away.
Gibbs grinned at Jack. " 'Leverage', says you," he said, " 'I think I feel a change in the wind,' says I. I'll find us a crew. There's bound to be some sailors on this rock as crazy as you!"
Jack shrugged modestly. "One can only hope." He lifted his tankard to Gibbs'. "Take what you can–"
"–give nothin' back!" finished Mr. Gibbs gleefully. They shoved the tankards together, tossed back the contents, and slammed the empty tankards to the table in unison.
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