Chapter VI

This Thing Called the Future

"Captain, did you hear what he said about there bein' a pirate festival?" Bootstrap asked from behind Will, walking up after the harbormaster had left their section of the dock.

"Yes, but it didn't occur to me that asking him about it would have been a wise decision."

"True enough." Bootstrap agreed, nodding. "Well, Captain, lead the way." He inclined his head and gestured to the land.

Will smiled, and began to walk forward, believing that he betrayed none of the anxieties he felt. He hadn't touched land for over two hundred years; how much had it changed? He'd forgotten how sturdy it felt under his feet, having known only the bucking and rolling of a ship all that time.

Or, how it would feel, surely.

He still hadn't gotten off the dock yet. Admittedly, his pace was noticeably slower than his usual gait. One who knew Will would almost call him stalling. Bootstrap sensed this hesitation in his son and he whispered "For Elizabeth," encouragingly.

Will stopped and turned to stare at his father inquisitively for a moment, before smiling regretfully and resuming to walk ahead- faster this time.

He had no qualms about allowing his crew to speed before him, so eager they were to return to land after all those years. They did not begrudge Will for that, however; it was not in malevolence that he held them back, only his sadness barring him from returning every ten years.

At the dawn of the 19th Century, a new age of society was arising, and Will's descendents grew less and less pleased about their 'duty' to receive him every year. Finally, when it reached the point of madness- the coldness with which they greeted him, he finally stopped visiting his family, knowing that he was no longer welcome.

His heart he still entrusted to them, however, secure in the fact that it was one family tradition that they would not renege on. Still, it was with deep depression that he bid the final farewell to his descendents, though they held little remorse for their parting.

It was unbearable for Will to return to land after that, finding no reason to do so anyway, except for his crew. As he had stated to his father before, during the time of the decades when the Dutchman did not anchor offshore, had anyone approached him about it, he would have had no trouble in allowing them time to spend on solid earth.

Will remained cautiously in tow, Bootstrap loyally at his side, and he was thankful for his company. He was also grateful that his crew had all gone ahead, thinking it the best course of action as he had not touched land since some time in the early 1800s.

He trusted their knowledge enough for them to stop him from getting bowled over by one of those bizarre 'car' things.

Will halted.

This was where the trial began. Bootstrap pointed at a metal object that had two poles intersecting at the middle, with a long tube leading down into the ground. A turnstile was what Bill called it.

He walked forward first, showing Will how to pass through.

His son slid past it slowly, eyeing the as if it would jump alive at any second and begin to gnaw at his legs. When he got to the other side, he hovered over it for a moment, inspecting it with curiosity.

"What's it for?" he asked, peering down at it and running his fingers over the cold surface.

"I don't rightly know." Bootstrap shrugged. "It must not be meant to keep you penned in. It doesn't work like that."

"No, of course not." Will agreed. "But look at this workmanship! Smooth as glass." There were times when the blacksmith still shone out in him.

"Look over 'ere, Cap'n!" hollered Clanker from above a slope. "This is where the street is!"

Will didn't seem reassured by that information.

He continued forward nonetheless, adjusting to the solid feel of earth- it took some getting used to, and the going was still at a measured pace. His crew found it both amusing and pityingly sad at once- though they were only slightly more confident.

Still, their enthusiasm had more control of them than their uncertainties and fear.

Father and son trekked up the low incline to the street level, and Will nearly reeled with shock. Loud, booming sounds roared past him, shooting by like roundshot bursting from cannons in a violent fight.

"Alright, steady now Captain, this is how we cross the street." Maccus approached him, gesturing to a point at which the crew were all assembled, waiting patiently and attracting more than a few looks. "Wait for the symbol of a running man to appear in that black box hanging from that large pole before us." he said.

To Will, this seemed a strange and foreign ritualistic gathering spot of sorts, but he hesitantly obeyed the instructions nonetheless.

At the moment, a crudely drawn, red hand was in the box that Maccus had indicated. Will waited with baited breath. All too soon, it flickered, and a running man showed up, -though in truth, it look more like chunky white lines-.

But this seemed to be the right signal, and Will's crew all surged forward in one great, clustered mass. The metallic beasts, the cars, he corrected himself, had all halted for them, though some continued to drive parallel to them.

He kept glancing over, worried that one would veer off and steer directly towards them. His breath caught.

This was all too much. He should have stayed behind.

"William," Bootstrap whispered softly. Will understood that he was almost at the end of the street now, and he wouldn't cross it again without any fruits of his labor. It was pure idiocy to turn around now.

A few steps later, Will found that he loved the safety of this thing called the 'sidewalk' very, very much.

The cars still rumbled past him, but Bootstrap assured him that they could not harm them while they remained on these blocks of stone. Will was still dubious about this, but he trusted his father's claim.

He had no other choice, at this point.

An older, graying woman approached them, her ridiculously small, fluffy white dog at the end of its leash, yapping at them incessantly.

"Why, look at you men!" She teased. "What pirates!"

Will's crew shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say. They left it to their captain once again to handle this situation. He walked forward, cautious of the dog, who quelled its barking when he neared its mistress, sniffing him calmly.

Ignoring the feel of a curious, wet nose snuffling his boots, Will swept into a bow, and took the woman's hand, pressing it to his lips gently. "Only if you say so, madam."

He reminded himself of Jack, sometimes. That man's influence never rubbed off.

"You ruffian, playing the gentleman with an old granny." The lady chuckled.

Will gave a courteous smile, then he asked, "Could you point us in the direction of the pirate gathering? My comrades and I have lost our way."

The woman looked thoughtful, and said regretfully, "Oh, no, I'm sorry, dear. I wouldn't know where that was."

Will couldn't hide the disappointment on his face.

"That's alright. We'll ask around."

"Good luck, you scoundrels!" The woman said playfully, giving a mischievous look at all the men assembled on the sidewalk before continuing on her way.

Will's heart sank, uncertain of how to conduct himself in less accidental situations. Acting like a false pirate seemed to have worked thus far, but he really had only encountered two people for short amounts of time, one of whom was won over by means of persuasion.

"Hey, you!" A thin, lanky youth with shoulder-length blonde-brown hair approached them. "I couldn't help but overhear that you're looking for the pirate festival?" He asked them.

A few heads bobbed unsurely, and Will, their spokesman, said, "Yes, we are. Do you have any information for us?"

"Yep. I'm heading there myself. It's a little further inland, and I definitely don't have enough room in my van for all you guys, but if you don't mind walking, I can point you in the right direction.

Will flooded with relief. "That's the best news I've heard all day. Where is it?"

The youth turned around to face the direction that the main street was heading towards, and he pointed down it, saying, "You'll wanna head that direction for about five stoplights, make a right by the coffee shop at the corner of the intersection, walk three or four blocks until you see the sign 'Al's bakery', turn left, and just keep it up until you see a mission, which is where you'll wanna go!"

Will was silent for a moment, processing all this seemingly gibberish information in his mind, before finally saying, "Thank you for your help."

"You're welcome buddy! See you there, guys." The youth said, giving Will a clap on the back and a mock salute the men.

Once the youth had walked off towards a parking lot, keys jangling, -Will couldn't understand what they were for- Maccus sighed and said, "This may take some time, Captain."

"Yes, but how much?"

-x-

The instructions were easier to follow than they expected. The found the mission with only two problems, which were figuring out what 'coffee' was, and crossing the street.

Will still distrusted the cars.

They had entered an older part of town, and they had seen the occasional pirate or two disappear around a corner. They were scattered about, and few, so Will decided that it would be safer if he chose not to follow them, as the youth's directions had not yet led them astray.

Indeed, the mission soon appeared before them, and Will was just about ready to throw himself at it in joy, which refrained from doing.

He headed towards the entrance, where a wench was collecting payment. Payment? He echoed to himself internally. When did pirate gatherings collect an admittance fee?

He pulled out his Spanish doubloons and pieces of eight again, now in a convenient draw-string pouch. Any manner of money would sway a pirate's greedy heart.

Will started forward, jaw set.

He was so close!

-x-

As he passed through, a few coins lighter, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Persuasion was a very handy thing indeed.

Thank you, Jack Sparrow.