Bill knew his son was going to need his fatherly instinct, but he never thought Will was going to need it this much. Will's mind and actions had been quiet and mournful for the past four days. The crew began feeling it as well. It took time for them to realize why their captain was acting like this. One year ago, Will's heart was carved from his body and locked away in the Dead Man's Chest. He felt sorry for himself and spent every hour moping around in grief. His days were wasted away on the organ, wrapped in the blue and wine colored wool blanket.
Bill did all that he could think of. He told Will more stories, spoiled him with good food, played Liar's Dice for an entire day, always was at his side, and brought Will to the true world, which only made everything worse since his heart was in that world.
Will had just come to sitting at the organ combining notes of grief unless he was called upon.
Since supplies had run low, they returned to the true world. Though they didn't need anything, it still felt necessary for them to acquire daily needs, only on a smaller amount.
Coming on deck, Bill searched for Maccus and handed him a list of supplies.
"At least double the rum and triple the coffee? We need more?" he Maccus noted, looking at Bill strangely.
The organ melody began again.
"Aye, a lot more," said Bill, looking at the cabin doors.
He went into the organ room and expected the sight he saw. Will was sitting on the bench cradling his jar of dirt. He gave his father a pitiful look that starved for attention.
"Will," began Bill attempting to pull the dirt from his son's arms.
Will held on tighter. "My dirt," he muttered.
Bill sat beside him. "Lad, I know you've been at this for one year now and nine more are left until a day of freedom. You can't be acting this way any longer."
"No one seems to care about me anyway," mumbled Will.
"I do and so does your crew. Your feelings are becoming a part of us. We can feel your sorrow and grief. Believe me when I say I understand."
"You're just lying to make me feel better."
"No, Will, I'm not. This crew feeds off of the captain's feelings."
"What feeling he has left you mean."
"Yes, but still. Stop feeling sorry for yourself."
"Everyone else does. Why can't I?"
"Because they are weak and just want attention. You are strong and have the attention of all that sail the sea. Captain Will Turner of the Flying Dutchman is the most known name in all the seas."
"I'd rather not because I would be alive still."
"Will, you are alive."
"Technically no. I have no heartbeat and my heart isn't beating inside me. I'm dead."
"If you don't end this feeling sorry for yourself and moping around, you will be dead."
"The sooner the better."
"Oh please Will," mumbled Bill. He knocked on Will's head. "It sounds hollow. Is anything in there? Hello, does anything live in this shell?" He knocked harder as Will tried pulling away.
"What was that for?" demanded Will.
"Maybe that will knock some sense back into you," replied Bill. Will opened his mouth to speak. "No, just keep holding your dirt and feeling sorry for yourself."
Will sighed and did just hold his jar of dirt and feel sorry for himself.
In World's End, the crew refilled everything and stored it away.
Bill came from the hold carrying a case of rum. He kicked the cabin doors open then kicked them shut.
The crew looked at each other shrugging, but Maccus shut his eyes. It was all too familiar of a sight he once saw with Davy Jones. Triple the coffee was correct indeed.
"You look like you could have used some a week ago," Bill noted, handing his son an opened bottle of rum.
Will took the bottle. He took a drink then just drank the rest in a few moments. He was offered another bottle. Looking miserable, he took it and tilted is head back.
Bill looked at the case under his feet. There was plenty more where that came from.
The crew sat on barrels telling each other of their past and memories of their life before being dragged onto the Dutchman by Davy Jones. They began wondering what Bill did with the case of rum. He paid no heed to anyone but going to the captain's cabin. They soon found out.
Both cabin doors swung open. Will stumbled out holding a nearly empty bottle of rum. He stood and leaned his head back while pouring the rest into his mouth. He shook his head and hiccupped. The bottle was flung from his hand. Looking behind him, Bill caught it. Will took the new bottle in his father's other hand.
"Such a lovely day. Wouldn't you agree?" Will asked Maccus who was walking by.
Maccus shook his head.
Will looked at him with a drunken smile as he swayed back and forth.
"Are you feeling all right?" asked Maccus.
"Better never in me life," replied Will with a raised finger. Taking a drink, he walked forward. He stumbled onto the rail leading to the helm. "Who put that there?" he demanded, swaying.
"It's always been there," said Maccus.
"Oh…well move it. Almost took me life," Will told him.
He took a few more steps. His feet crossed each other. He couldn't walk in a straight line. He headed towards the hold. As he tilted his head back for another drink, he took a step.
The crew watched as he rolled down the stairs.
"Don't worry, the rum is unharmed," Will called back. "Ho yo, ho yo, a pirate's life for pirates."
There was a laugh as all eyes turned to Bill Turner. He too held a bottle that was barely half gone.
"Just how many has he had?" wondered Edward.
"He's on his fifth bottle since this morning," laughed Bill.
"You are allowing him to do this?" wondered Edward.
"I find it appropriate since Jones did this to himself about a year after," said Maccus.
"I'm the one giving him the rum," Bill told them. "He's forgotten feeling sorry for himself."
"Along with his mind," added Greenbeard.
Will returned from the hold, somehow, carrying a case of rum. He roughly dropped it between the men. "Drinks all around!" he hollered, his arms flailing about. Losing his balance, he fell against the mast. Apparently that was so very amusing because he began laughing. "Drink up me 'earties ho yo!" He stumbled around handing each man a bottle. Will tripped on his own feet.
Bill caught him. He looked at his drunken son's face.
Will smiled at him. He handed him a bottle.
"Already have one lad," replied Bill, helping Will find his balance.
"Well, then drink up me 'earty ho yo," Will said.
"No, it is drink up me 'earties yo ho. Yo, ho, Will," corrected Bill.
"That's wot I said. Drink up me 'earties ho yo," said Will again. He hiccupped and turned. He sang while drinking and attempting to walk around deck. "We plunder, pillage, and rifle and hoot. Drink up me 'earties ho yo. We ravage, we kidnap, and don't…don't give a loot. Drink up me 'earties ho yo. Ho yo, ho yo. A pirate's life me for." Will turned after a mouthful. "Sing me 'earties ho yo." He set his hand on Wyvern's and Greenbeard's shoulders, swaying again.
Wyvern turned his head away with a face of disgust. He waved away the smell of alcohol believing he was going to become intoxicated with Will's breath.
"We don't know that song captain," replied Greenbeard, swaying as to look at Will's face.
"Then Bill Turner Bootstrap, teach our lovely tune," ordered Will.
"Aye, aye, son," replied Bill with a nod. He first helped his son sit steadily on a barrel next to him then began his song.
The land of the dead had never known of such a day before. Nearly drunk pirates and a very drunk, even cursed still, pirate captain all singing the pirate's song. It was after sundown. Their voiced carried out across the sea in a drunken, off tune melody. Yo, ho, yo, ho. A pirate's life for me. One melody carried above the rest, much louder. Ho, yo, ho, yo. Pirate's a life me for. The crew actually found it enjoyable to laugh and sing again, or rather, it was enjoyable watching their captain try to walk around anywhere and do anything. They finished the chorus and slammed their bottles together. Each one took a drink.
"This reminds me of my younger days," commented Wyvern. "Sailing the seas, plenty of rum for everyone, singing…a drunken captain. All we need is the women."
"Let's go get them," Will said, standing.
Bill grabbed his son before he fell…again.
Will tilted his head back to finish his bottle. Only a few drops came. He looked into the neck of the bottle. Upset, he threw the bottle behind him.
Bill raced to catch the bottle then his son.
Will looked at him. "Why is the rum always gone?"
Bill shrugged.
Will stumbled along to the few bottles left. He took a new bottle into his hands and gazed at it with passion. He uncorked it with his teeth then somehow managed to make his way to the helm. "Jack, Jack Sparrow."
"Why do you want Jack?" wondered Bill, following closely.
"Because," said Will, pointing beside the helm but believing he was pointing at the wheel in his drunken state. "Jack always has rum. Where Jack Sparrow, is there is rum."
"Will, you've had enough," Bill told him becoming worried.
"Nonsense," Will laughed, waving it off. "I'm normal. In fact, I'm much more better-er."
"You are done lad," Bill said, taking the bottle from Will in mid-drink.
"Honestly honest, I feel alive and more-er alive," replied Will, halfway falling down the stairs, following his father. He looked at his crew who started the song up again.
"Ho, yo, ho, yo. Pirate's…" began Will.
He became pale. He clamped his hand across his mouth. As fast as he could he stumbled to the rail and vomited over the side. Everyone watched as this went on for a few minutes. Will finally turned. His body was pale and shaky. He took a few steps forward then just fell back against the side. Everyone immediately rushed to his side.
Will pushed himself up slowly, moaning. "Ouch."
"Are you all right?" wondered Maccus
Will nodded, managing to lean on his knees. His face suddenly became even paler. He whipped around to vomit more. Once that was done, he slumped against the side.
Bill wiped his face with a rag.
"Did I ever tell you the time my father cut my heart out?" Will asked him.
"I know. Will, I did it," said Bill.
"Oh, that was you? It doesn't look like you." Will got close to his face, staring at him.
Bill forced a smile as he held his breath.
"I want one of these," said Will, tracing the brand on his father's wrist. "I'll trade the key for one." He held out the key.
"No, Will. You must have the key," Bill told him.
"But why?" whined Will.
"The captain must always have the key," said Bill.
"How much longer do I have to do this?"
"A very long time."
"Father."
"Yes Will."
"I love you," Will said as he rubbed the side of his face against his father's chest.
"I love you Will," replied Bill, setting his arm around his son's back to help support him. He managed to smile. Even if his son was to drunk to understand anything, he wanted to hear those words anyway.
"Can I have more rum?" Will requested. "A small drink?"
"Probably not," said Bill, shaking his head.
Will groaned as his fell into his father's arms, completely out cold.
Bill turned away to breathe again. "That took longer than I thought."
"You are cruel," noted Maccus with a laugh.
"That was the simple part," Bill said without much enthusiasm. He set his other arm under Will's knees before adding. "Maccus, brew a barrel of coffee. Make it as black as you can."
"A barrel?" wondered Maccus impressed.
Bill glanced at his son's face. "You're right. Best make it three."
"We now know why he wanted all that rum and coffee," said Edward, watching Bill carry his son to bed.
In Will's quarters, Bill prepared the room for when Will woke. He covered the windows with thick cloth and set a bucket beside the cot. He stripped Will of everything but his breeches. He also took the key from his son's neck and placed it on his own. Already, he pulled a chair next to Will and began dabbing a cool rag across his son's face. A smile and laugh came to him though. It was entertaining watching Will with five bottles of rum inside him.
With the crew normal again, Will Turner lay in his quarters more miserable than he had ever been. He barely moved anything. He lay in bed with his eyes shut, breathing hard.
Bill continued setting cool rags across his forehead. There were only a few candles lit. The room was as dark as late sunset.
Will groaned after vomiting into the bucket again. "Why did you do this to me?"
"Because you've been moping around, feeling sorry for yourself for a week. I was tired of seeing it and feeling it. The entire crew felt like moping around as well," whispered Bill.
"Not even Jack would drink five bottles in one afternoon," Will groaned.
"I know," laughed Bill. "I dearly wish he was here to see it."
"How bad was I?"
"You asked me if I had ever been told the time when your father cut your heart out."
"Now I'm beginning to wish I would have died," Will whispered as his cheek fell into the pillow.
Bill gently stroked Will's cheek with his thumb. "I'm going to check on the coffee. I'll be right back."
"Is he still alive?" wondered Edward as Bill came onto deck.
"He's wishing he wasn't," said Bill. "How is the coffee?"
"He'll have some soon. The crew, me as well, drank most of it last night," replied Edward.
A miserable groan came from the cabin. Bill sighed and returned to Will. He sat at his side again, taking care of him as much as he could.
Not long after, Maccus entered with a mug.
"Close the damn door," Will moaned as sunlight poured in the room.
"Sorry," said Maccus, shutting the door. He handed Bill the coffee.
Bill helped is son sit up and drink the coffee. "Keep it coming," he told Maccus.
Maccus nodded, looking down at Will's face. "He truly is just a boy."
"That he is," agreed Bill. "And he's my boy."
Throughout the day the coffee kept coming. By night, Will was nearly himself again. His stomach wasn't stirring uncomfortably. Things became clearer. Light and sound still irritated his mind, but that was due to his pounding head. Bill got him to laugh when he told him that something was beating inside him again, though, neither understood how since headaches were formed from the beating heart.
Will sat up against his pillow eating a warm biscuit. Light bounced from the key around his father's neck. He looked at him oddly.
"I wanted you to be as comfortable as possible," Bill said.
"You, you basically got me drunk just to forget about everything then you wanted me to be comfortable?" wondered Will.
Bill nodded and shrugged. "At least I don't need to worry about you drinking too much again."
"Or feeling sorry for myself," added Will with a smile. He shut his eyes and rubbed his head again.
"Here," Bill whispered. He blew out the candle beside them. "Lie down. My father did this to me whenever my head pounded. It always worked for me."
Once Will was lying down, Bill Turner gently rubbed his son's temples with his thumb. He massaged his head and really just lulled him to sleep. Before leaving, he blew out the remaining candles. He took one last look at Will.
To everyone's shock and amazement, Will was at the helm early morning before sunrise. He needed to stretch and move around. He thanked everyone for keeping the coffee coming and apologizing for his recent behaviors.
Bill came to him with a new cup. "We found a few more souls while you were asleep," he said.
"That's good," Will said softly. He drank more of his coffee. He looked out to the horizon. "I never thought I would find myself needing to return here."
"We do what we must and go where we must go," aid Bill.
"I wonder what my son looks like and how much he's grown," said Will sadly.
Bill drew a breath. "I swear to you if you start that again you'll soon find more days like yesterday," he told him.
Will glanced at him with that miserable look on his face, but nodded.
After ferrying the few souls that were acquired, and seeing that there were none nearby, Will placed his father in command. He left to hide in the comfortable, quiet darkness.
The day wasn't too bad. A few more souls were acquired. Since they were holding good conversation with the crew, Bill left main deck. He found Will leaning over a map of the world on the mahogany table. This map was of the true world. There were lines and specific dates and ships. One was Port Royal to Tortuga. Another was Singapore to the middle of the sea, which was unmistakably World's End.
"Your journey," noted Bill as he set the key around Will's neck again. He looked at one place and ship and read it aloud. "Flying Dutchman. The first moment with…daddy." He looked at Will with a smile. "Flying Dutchman. Destiny grasped."
Will slumped down. He watched as his father took a pen to write on the map. He read them aloud. "Flying Dutchman destiny and father grasped. World's End. The rum incident." He had to laugh at that now that he looked back on it. "Thank you for doing that."
"Who says I did it for you?" wondered Bill, poking him
Will sat quiet a moment as he looked at his journey across the seas.
Seeing that he was all right, Bill began to leave. His hand was on the handle when a quiet voice broke the silence.
"Daddy, I love you."
Bill turned and faced Will. His eyes moistened with tears.
Will rubbed his head. He glanced at him with a smile.
Calypso's fury had once again become unleashed. More souls than usual appeared. Those souls were not only pirates and marines, but merchants and families as well. Seeing as Will had accepted begin captain and was doing his duty, most of the crew asked permission to finally be at peace. Will made the journey immediately after he was asked. The only ones from Davy Jones that stayed were Greenbeard and Maccus. They felt they should stay longer and help their captain.
Of course Bill stayed. Once again, Will made an attempt to make him leave. Bill's excuse was always that his debt still hadn't been paid. He still had eighty-five years before the mast.
Will made frequent stops in the world to hire more crewmembers seeing five, including him, was not a sufficient number.
With each new ship, more and more sailors began recognizing him. He was no longer feared to be Davy Jones. The sight of Captain Turner brought tears of joy to their dying eyes. Their prayers had been answered. With a full crew of twenty-nine men willing to serve the standard one hundred years, the Dutchman returned to her service with ease.
One new member caused the rest of the crew to wonder about Will. This member was known as Skully. He was probably the worst pirate ever and always drunk. Will kept him only because he was a reminder of Jack Sparrow. Skully even admitted he would do anything to be exactly like Captain Sparrow. Although, Bill enjoyed him as well. It reminded him of the time he got Will drunk for feeling sorry for himself. Ever since then, Will hadn't drank a bottle. He rarely had one drink, nor did he go anywhere near that substance.
After the last stop to peace, he felt he needed a mouthful however. The last souls ferried were children below sixteen years of age. The Royal Navy had brought about their death. Their parents had been considered pirates and criminals of the sea. After the hanging of the adults, the children were locked in the hold and the ship set ablaze.
Will treated them all to many tales of the sea and pirate adventures. They sang the pirate song, which Will sang in tune and every word correct and in order. The crew was in shock when he went down to take a bottle.
Maccus and Edward looked at each other, clearly remembering the last time he had a drink.
"Well, we'll know how many he drank when he comes back," laughed Maccus.
"It took him three," added Edward.
Bill came on deck, scanning all the faces of the men. He went to Edward. "Where is my son?"
"After our last soul gathering, he decided to go near that substance to clear his head," replied Edward.
"The rum?" wondered Bill with a look of amaze and a laugh.
"Aye, how clear we'll soon see," laughed Maccus.
Fear struck Bill Turner's face. "Will!" he called, rushing to the hold.
Leaning against the hull, Will took another mouthful of rum. He shut his eyes and rubbed them. Glancing to the right of the rum cash, he noticed something shiny coming from between the rock and a few barrels. Setting the bottle down, he moved the barrel. The shiny object was a sword hilt. Curiosity stricken, Will unsheathed the sword.
"William, no! Let me get it Will!" shouted Bill, sprinting in, praying to beat Will. He froze, seeing Will.
Will stared at the sword with eyes of horror and anger. His eyes ran up and down the sword that had once belonged to James Norrington and Davy Jones for a time.
"You kept it and you never told me," said Will softly.
"Will I…I'm sorry," Bill said, beginning to go near him.
"You kept it and you never told me!" Will hollered hoarsely as he pointed the sword at his father.
Bill looked at Will startled. His eyes teared and were horror stricken when he saw where the blade was pointing.
Will lowered the sword from over his father's heart. He looked away. Seeing another sword hilt, he pulled that one from the barrel as well. He glanced at his father not believing any of this. He now held Jack's broken sword again. He lowered his head.
Bill quickly sat close beside him. He offered Will his bottle of rum.
Will grabbed it back and drank the rest. "Why?" he asked, looking at his father with pleading eyes.
"We found them on deck during your one day. The crew gave them to me. They felt I was deserved to have them. For a while, I hid them in my cabin. After the rum incident, I hid them here. This was the one place I knew you would never be found. If you wanted rum, you would only take a drink from a bottle on deck," said Bill.
"Why?" Will asked again, not having his question answered.
Bill took the sword into his own hand. He felt the smooth blade. "Because this gave me my son back. It has given me the chance to finally be with you. I could become your father again," he explained with a soft smile. Will nodded as he was handed the sword. "It belongs to you now. Do with it what you want."
The Turners looked at each other.
Bill gave his son a soft smile as he brushed his cheek with the back of his fingers.
Will watched him leave. He sat alone, gazing at both swords deep in thought.
Hours later, Will came back on deck. The crew whispered among themselves as they noticed what Will found.
Will stood at the bow deep in thought. He eyes dwelled on the horizon. None of the sun remained. It was just the vast ocean and rays of light. The sword had been his greatest ever. For hours, he strived to perfect every aspect: the weight, length, balance, swiftness, touch, look…it all had to be perfect. It all was perfect. The sword was flawless. Even if it was flawless, it cursed him and made him live away from his wife and son.
Angered and frustrated, he raised the sword to cast it forever into the sea where it belonged. With his arm raised to throw, he found he couldn't. He gazed into the sky and sea. His arm trembled. Something caused him to hold on. With all he had, he wanted not more than to rid himself of the cursed sword. Shutting his eyes, unable to throw the sword to the sea and emotion retuning strongly, he lowered his arm. Saying no words to anyone, he returned to his cabin and slammed the doors. No rum comments were made to Bill this time.
Regretting his decision to keep them, Bill climbed the rigging to be alone.
While the crew slept at night, Will returned to deck. He went to the helm to see who had the night watch. Skully was asleep at the wheel with a bottle of rum in his arm. Will rolled his eyes, but was glad he wasn't awake. He took a quick look around deck. No one else. With a quick flick of the wrist, green flashed around them temporarily. Grasping the sword, he looked to the true sky of the true world. He needed answers.
"Why did you stop me?" he softly asked as the wind and sea calmed to nothing. He gazed below him at the still water.
"Dere is not'ing wrong wit' da sword."
"Then what is?" asked Will, turning
"Dose dat wield it," replied Calypso, in her human form. She gave Will a smile as she approached. Her finger traced the scar.
"Why have you come?" Will asked, moving her hand.
"To tell ya da trut' and of ya precious bloodline," began Calypso.
Will looked at her furious. "My destiny was not to replace Jones. I'm not supposed to be here. My father should be free. Jack wanted this. Why didn't you make him captain? His heart is worthless. No one cares for him and he cares for no one. He wants immortality. Freedom to him is a ship and the sea. My freedom is lost forever. I should be with my wife and son. My two-year-old son. I should be holding him in my arms not hundreds of souls of people I've never met. You knew who I was and what fate I had. You did nothing. You let it all play out. No one but you has won. You are free from your human form forever. Anyone at sea you can control their destiny as well. You no longer have need to worry of Jones. You have him back as well. Because someone other than you can clean your mess, you don't care. You kill whom you please because I'm there to give them peace. You know I'll do this for the sole purpose to be with my wife." He looked at her with pleading eyes. "I love her. I love my son that I've met once. Once. William is never going to know me because of you. I can't be with them. Everything that led up to this I've done for Elizabeth. I became a pirate because of her, to save her twice. I brought Jack back to free my father. Now you curse me to forever be bound to this ship. Why can I not be with my wife and son? Why just once every ten years? Why is our love torn from each other? Calypso, why me?"
Calypso leaned against the rail, delicately stroking a crab. When silence came, she looked at Will. "Ya heart canno' be tamed and you follow. Whatevah ya heart said, you followed. Da sea be your heart."
"I don't understand," Will whispered.
Calypso smiled. She set her hand across Will's chest. "Da sea be changing, harsh, and untamable. Your heart be da same Willyum. Your heart change to she who love you more dan anyt'ing and him who you nevah know. Your heart be harsh when dose you love are t'reatened. Your love to all dose precious to you nevah be tamed. Da sea turn Davy Jones into a monstah. Da sea be wot you are."
Will seemed to begin understanding. He leaned on the rail. "The sea is my heart, therefore my heart is useless," he whispered.
"No, you heart be precious and wort' more dan anyt'ing in any worl'. I not be da one to choose dis destiny. Calypso have no word in dis. Da sea as it was chose your heart. You heart chose the sea."
"That's something then. My heart and Jones's hearts were both called upon by the sea, and enslaved by the sea. Because I did not fall I love with the sea as Jones, my heart is still pure and true." Will sighed. "Fate and destiny did write correctly, just not the way I wanted."
"Nor did I. Dis not be da fate you deserve, but in time, wit' da changing of da sea and othah fates tied to yours, destiny give you dat which you want."
Will saw more in her words than she said. She set her palm against Will's chest. Suddenly, Will felt a steady pulse beating inside him as he once had. He shut his eyes held his breath.
"Dis not be ya true heartbeat," added Calypso, taking her hand away.
Will opened his eyes then the pulse faded. The water lapped against the ship in a steady beat, much like the pulse of a heart. The ship rocked.
"But dis be ya true heartbeat," Calypso told him.
"I'll always hear my heart beating," whispered Will.
"Because you heart be tied to da sea, ya bloodline be tied as well," said Calypso
"That is a good thing?" Will said, not wanting to know.
"Dat depends. All Turnahs, beginning wit' your son, die at sea if born at sea and die on land if born on land," explained Calypso.
"Already fate has chosen their destinies," Will sighed.
"But not dere lives," said Calypso with a smile.
"If you remain here, I have a gift for you," said Will.
Calypso smiled and moved closer to Will much like she had done the moment they met.
Will left and hurried back. He moved to open his hand with the music box sitting in his palm. "It really should belong to you," he told her.
"Nod da gift I had expected," admitted Calypso, brushing his cheek the way Elizabeth did before giving him an act of love.
"Please take it," Will told her, not playing into her love.
"No, le' dis be a reminder to ya," said Calypso, shutting his hand.
"Why did you break his heart? Why weren't you there?" wondered Will.
"My nature," Calypso said with a shrug, looking innocent. "Davy Jones nod know dat I may have been dere next time of find him when I wan'. Him nod know dat I always were dere."
"If I remain true and ferry souls, then I'll be free to live with Elizabeth and little Will after this decade?" asked Will, hopeful.
"No, you jus' remain da way you are," whispered Calypso. She smiled. "Which nod be a bad t'ing."
"The promise and the curse," mumbled Will.
"Aldough, da sea bring gif's and more wit' time," added Calypso.
"Are you truly the sea of a prisoner of it?" asked Will, curious.
Calypso looked at the sea. "Da sea have a mind of its own. I do its work. In par' I be da sea and a prisoner of da sea."
"One more question," began Will. "My father has eighty four years of service left. We both know each day brings his service closer to an end. Is there a way that he can stay longer? I need him. He is the only one keeping me sane. Sane within reason at least."
"Don' le' him have reason ta give you five bottles of rum," Calypso told him giggling.
"Even the sea knows of that," Will whined childlike.
Calypso stood in front of him. She set her hands on his face, pulling his head down. She kissed his forehead. "Captain Turnah, your fada have him own touch of destiny."
Breathing hard Will lowered his head. His eyes fell on the key then scar. He traced his scar. "Calypso," he began.
No one. Calypso was no longer on deck.
"Show a leg. Look alive before the captain sees you."
Will knew that voice to be his father's. He turned to the helm.
Skully saluted Bill in horror.
Shaking his head in disgust, Bill came on deck after spotting Will.
Will turned back to the sea. All that Calypso stated seemed to finally cause him to accept his duty. His heart was the sea. All he did was from the causes of love. He never fit in the noble society on land. He never felt accepted on land. The moment he stepped on the island of Tortuga, as much as he never was going to admit to Jack or anyone else, he enjoyed his time there. Despite he was looking for Elizabeth, he stopped in the Faithful Bride for a quick drink and to gain his bearings. Unfortunately, Scarlet and Giselle kept him distracted and he got to be talking with them causing him to leave the next morning. When he was at sea, he took to everything unusually quickly. He had more trouble acquiring his land legs than sea legs. At sea, he felt at home and as though he finally belonged somewhere. He never belonged on land. He did belong at sea.
"William," whispered Bill, standing beside his son. "What are we doing here in the middle of the day and for no reason to be here?"
Will glanced at his father's chest, imaging the scar that he feared would consume it.
Bill lifted his son's chin.
Will gazed into his father's eyes. His own touch of destiny.
"Will, are you all right. You're pale," noted Bill.
"I'm fine," said Will, looking away.
"No, whenever something is not right your face always grows pale," Bill told him, caressing his son's face with his thumb.
Will listened to the water lapping against the ship. With a gentle he shut his eyes.
"Will," whispered Bill, shaking Will. Fear and worry struck his face. "You need to sleep Will."
"You were right," said Will, nodding. He took the sword into his hand. "This did give us the gift to be together. I'll keep it. Someone once said there is nothing wrong with the sword. It's just those that wield it. And this…" He held up Jack's broken sword. "I shall personally deliver this to Jack the next time he shows up. Let's just pray he's found his immortality." Will looked at him with a smile of revenge.
"Be nice Will. He did save your life," Bill reminded.
Will nodded. He returned to his cabin, after a change of worlds and back to the star filled abyss but went to his private veranda behind it. The seas became rougher, only to hit the side of the ship louder. He smiled as he listened to his heart beating.
Before his crew left to gather supplies on land, Captain Turner and his first mate made small requests.
Will stopped Edward. He set his arm around his shoulder. "Eddy, my best, most loyal friend in all the world," he began.
"How much rum did your father give you this time? Six bottles?" Edward said, looking at him strangely.
"I swear, no one is ever going to let me forget that," said Will annoyed.
"Probably not," agreed Edward with a laugh. "What do you need?"
"As you know, I'm stuck aboard this ship for another six years and I need a favor of you," added Will. "Find blocks of wood of any sort of wood small enough, yet, large enough to carve into objects."
"Ah, the blacksmith is finally breaking free from the pirate," noted Edward. "Aye, I'll find what I can."
Will slapped his shoulder and nodded his thanks. He glanced to the side.
Bill was just finishing his conversation with Maccus and Greenbeard. They looked at him and nodded. Both glanced at Will. A smile swept across their faces.
Will looked at his father. He watched the crew row ashore as he went to him. "You're up to something. You've spoken with them each time. They go ashore. What about?"
"The usual," said Bill walking across deck.
"What usual? You're not doubling the rum order and tripling the coffee are you?" Will asked quickly following him.
Bill laughed as he shook his head. "Not this time Will."
"This time," said Will, stopping his father.
"Will, I'm not serious," Bill told him. "Can you not take a laugh anymore?"
"Not that one," said Will, calming. "I should be used to that one by now."
"Aye," said Bill. He looked at Will's smile the lowered his head.
Will sensed something wrong. "What is it?"
"All this. All that you're doing. It shouldn't be you. This shouldn't be your destiny," Bill told him sadly.
Will gave his father a reassuring half smile. He set his hand on his father's shoulder. "You once told me that I would get used to this and accept the duty I've been given. I have accepted this. It isn't bad as everyone thought. I'll admit it is different from everything, but it's not bad. Besides fate chose correct. This is my destiny," he said.
Seeing that his son had come to accept this fate and adapt, Bill nodded. Despite his son's odd behavior at the moment, he accepted. Will was bound to accept this sooner than later.
Feeling alone and left out, Will leaned on the rail, holding his jar of sand. Such a simple, foolish object gave him more comfort than anything else. The crew was still on shore. His father was sitting against the rail reading. All was quiet. Making sure his father wasn't looking, Will glanced at him. Seeing that he wasn't, he quietly twisted the lid from the jar. He poured a tiny amount of sand in his hand. The last time he felt land was over four years ago. It seemed foreign, and yet, comforting.
Looking back out to sea, he set his jar beside him on deck. He began letting sand fall through his fist as it fell into his palm of his other hand. He continued this for a long while. A sense of him was deeply jealous. Everyone but him was able to step on land whenever they made a stop for supplies. He was stuck on this ship with his father who mostly cleaned up a bit or read books brought back from all the places they had traveled.
Will glanced at his father with a smile. He had learned so much about him. He finally felt he had a father in his life. They bonded quickly to each other after he was made captain. From all the pirates he had known and met, Will found his father to be the most normal.
Bill obeyed orders and gave orders. He had no tolerance for fighting aboard the ship. He demanded order aboard the ship. He did more than Will. All Will really did anymore was take the ship in and out of worlds and take the records of the souls. Bill did most everything else.
Another strange quality Will never would find in a pirate was his father's love for books. The organ chamber smelled of leather from the bindings. There were three shelves of books from all the cultures. Whenever things were quiet or quiet enough, he was always found in a sunny corner contently reading.
Will was normally found sitting at the organ, perfecting the song for his Elizabeth. From his father, the crew knew why he toiled over the organ, playing so many things over and over again and adding and taking away, changing notes…he had to make something for him and his wife, something they could always hold and when alone. During those times, the crew took to leaving him alone. The only person allowed in was Bill, because he understood him the most.
"William Turner!"
Will jumped from being startled. The sand flung from his hand in front of him, most went over the rail, but some did fall below him.
Bill rushed to his son's side. With trembling hands, he grabbed Will's wrist. Seeing the sand, all around, he shoved Will to the side.
Will couldn't grasp his balance. He fell back, bounced his head off deck several times, and just lie there a moment.
Bill pulled Will to his feet, slapped him then pushed him against the mast by his neck. Both hands were around Will's neck to keep him there. "This is why there is a jar! Its purpose is to contain the sand so none can fall onto deck. The sand is just a reminder not a toy. What would have happened if you dropped some on deck? Hmm? One grain of sand under your foot is all it will take! Leave the sand in the jar!" he hollered. Will nodded slowly. Bill noticed his son wasn't breathing. Realizing where his hands were, Bill removed them from his son's throat. He pulled Will against his chest, squeezing him. "Don't ever do that to me again Will. Don't ever take sand from the jar again. No one knows what would happen and I don't want to find out. I've lost you twice. Don't let it be a third time."
"Father, I can't breathe still," said Will, breathless.
Bill quickly loosened his grasp. Tears were in his face. He took Will's face between his palms. "Don't ever do that again. Please."
"I'm sorry. I just miss it," said Will.
"Promise me that you'll never frighten me like this again," said Bill.
Will leaned closer into his arms. "It's all right. I'm still here. I'm all right."
Bill shut his eyes with a heavy sigh. He wrapped his arms around his son's back. "I know you are."
Will remained calm and content in his father's arms for minutes. "I can feel your heart beating through me," he whispered. Sighing, he lowered his head until it was over his father's heart.
"I knew yours once," noted Bill.
Will pulled away. "When?"
"After that night we met. You fell asleep against me when we were talking about each other, waiting for the moment you could take the key and escape. You were shivering. I held you and kept you as warm as possible. I felt your heart beating. I heard it beating for the longest time. That was long ago though," said Bill.
"Listen to the sea the next time you're alone. You'll know," said Will, pulling away.
Bill slowly blinked and gave him a look of confusion. He gazed across the sea after watching Will return to his cabin with the jar. The sea lapped against the ship. Deeply in thought, Bill noticed it was steady like a beating heart. He listened harder, wondering what Will meant. The sea truly did sound like a steady, strong beating heart.
Will returned to deck. He stood beside his father, watching the sunset. The sun just passed below the horizon. Slumping, he sighed. He lowered his head.
Bill set his arm around him. He rubbed Will's shoulder. When Will looked at him he nodded with a comforting smile.
"I wish I could go on land to see my son," said Will with a heavy sigh.
"I know," said Bill, a sly smile growing across his face.
He set his arm on Will's side. The other arm was set on Will's arm. Laughing, he pushed Will over the rail.
Will grabbed onto something, which was his father's arm, before falling over.
Both Turners splashed into the water. They laughed at each other.
"What did I do?" asked Will.
"You're beginning to feel sorry again and we're out of rum," replied Bill.
Will splashed him in the face. He was splashed back.
In the warm, Asian waters just after sunset, Captain Turner and his father splashed and tried keeping the other underwater the longest. They swam around and laughed just like a normal father and son playing. Bill grabbed the key to pull Will closer. He kept his son's head underwater. Will clutched his father's hair and pulled him down. Bill let go. Will surfaced. He squirt water into his father's face. Bill splashed him. Will just laughed aloud. They splashed each other again. Both laughed and didn't much have a care in the world.
"Ahem."
Still laughing, and on top of his father, Will turned.
Maccus was drumming his fingers against the longboat.
The rest of the crew gazed at them strangely.
"Where is your father?" asked Maccus.
Will jumped off his father's back.
Bill surfaced and grabbed the key. "I'm here."
"Shall I take these aboard then and expect you to remain here?" assumed Maccus. Both Turners splashed him in the face. Maccus nodded. "I thought so."
He watched the two Turners swim around, seeing who could keep the other under the water the longest. A sad, remembrance expression passed over his face. He touched the shark tooth necklace below his tunic, watching Will and Bill and hearing them laugh.
While the crew of the Dutchman loaded the ship, both Turners continued to swim around in the water. They seemed carefree and normal. Their laugh and shouts gave the crew joy again. Loading the ship took longer than usual due to the Turners. They finally climbed aboard when the water was dark and sky star filled.
Still laughing, Bill stepped over the rail. He turned and helped Will aboard. Both shook their clothes.
Will reached down to verify that the key was still around his neck then reached for his sash for the knife. Both were still on him.
Edward handed them a rag and asked. "What brought that on?"
"Will, was beginning to feel sorry for himself again and there was no rum to dilute his mind," said Bill. Will shook his wet hair. "Though, I did not expect joining him."
"But I did," said Will. "Mr. Turner, let's leave this place and return to where we belonged.
"You heard the Captain. To your stations!" hollered Bill.
The crew gave their nods and went to their respected posts.
Before leaving, Will took one last look at Singapore in the distance. The light was dull and spaced. So much had begun here, though, he was glad to leave. He headed for the helm. Along the way, he noticed Maccus just standing at the rail tightly grasping something in his hand. Will decided they needed to speak later. He of all people knew that sad, longing look.
Captain Turner sat in his cabin looking over his pieces of wood. Most were a different size block or rectangle. He took one into his hand. With one leg strewn over the arm of the chair, he took out his knife. He began carving into the small block. There was a knock on the door.
"Come," he called holding up the wood more.
"Your father said you wanted to speak with me," replied Maccus, entering.
Will nodded and motioned to a chair.
Maccus slumped in the chair across the table.
Will pushed the wood pile out of the way. "I sense you are troubled."
"Not at all," said Maccus, sitting up.
Will glanced at him then carved into the wood more. "Your face is sad and longing. Your eyes grow with tears. I know that look."
"Perhaps there is something troubling me," admitted Maccus. "I do not wish to speak of it."
"I won't say anything to another soul," said Will.
"No," Maccus said fiercely.
Will set the carving down. He looked at Maccus with power in his eyes. "As your Captain, I order you to tell me what is troubling you," he told him.
Maccus glanced at him again. He suddenly burst into tears. He buried his face into his hand while the other hand slammed the table.
Will sighed as he took to his carving again.
A few minutes later, Maccus sniffled. He wiped is eyes then breathed deep. "I'm sorry."
"It happens," Will said nodding. "It still happens to me a lot. Usually, I find telling another to help ease the pain."
"It's the reason I am still here on this ship and the reason why was brought here. It's because of my son," began Maccus. Tears fell from his eyes. Will set the carving down and nodded. Maccus continued. "One year after Jones cut his heart from him and locked it away, my son with him. He was an early pirate, probably the best. My son stood against Jones to try and free me from the ship. He somehow knew of the chest. He threatened Jones. I told him to stop, but he wouldn't. He continued on defying Davy Jones." Maccus reached into his tunic and pulled a necklace into his palm. "I watched as Jones tortured my son. I was held back by those that had already been aboard the ship. He poured boiling water on him and beat him. He made sure that no one was ever going near him. After twenty five of the one hundred lashed owned on my son, I made a deal with Jones. I would forever serve aboard his ship as long as he let my son free. He agreed. To seal this arrangement, I stabbed myself and swore to him." He pulled his tunic aside revealing a scar directly beside his heart. "I've been here ever since."
"And your son?" asked Will softly.
Tears slipped from Maccus's eyes as he looked at him. "He died in my arms after Jones let him go. He couldn't hold on any longer. Jones tossed his body into the sea. I never saw my son again."
"But not his soul is free," Will said softly with comfort.
"I wish it were so. Not all souls were saved. We saved as many as we could. Some are too far lost to be saved. My son is one of them. Their souls are still out there, lost forever, never to be at peace," whispered Maccus.
"If he is anything like you, I know he found his way," Will told him as he took to his carving again.
Maccus nodded. He let his son's necklace from his grasp. "Can you help me?"
"With what?" wondered Will.
"Letting go," Maccus whispered.
"Of course," Will said nodding.
Both immediately went to main deck.
Maccus gazed deep into the starry world. He took his son's shark tooth necklace from his neck. He rubbed the tooth with his hand. "I've held onto you for too long. I need to let go, but I've always loved you." He pressed the tooth to his lips. "Good-bye Anthony."
He slowly opened his hand. The necklace gently fell into the water with a soft plop. He watched as the ripples faded.
Will set his hand on his shoulder. "Everyone must let go of everything someday," he whispered. "We can't hold on forever."
"You and my boy are almost exactly alike. You're just like him," noted Maccus. "Thank you."
Will nodded. "Go rest now. You may have today as a day of rest if you wish."
Maccus nodded. He went to the sleeping quarters.
"What was that about?" wondered Bill.
"He let go of his son," replied Will, carving more.
Bill glanced at him. "Are you willing to?"
"Father," began Will, without worry. "My son is nearly four. I don't expect letting him go for decades."
"I'm just saying son," said Bill. He looked out to the sea. "I'll take them."
Will looked out at the number of incoming boats. "I'll help you."
After all that, Will returned to his cabin. He set a small carving on the table, gave a nod of approval, and smiled. The little sea turtle was his best work yet.
The gatherings of wood soon became a habit. Will's cabin was stocked full of the pieced. Little carvings were scattered all over the ship. Each crewmember had their own wooden carving of whatever he requested. Most pleasing of all, Will put forth his anger into the block of wood. Instead of moping around, feeling sorry for himself, he carved. Everyone did wonder though. Will's emotions were put forth into the carvings. Because of that, everywhere they turned there was a small object carved by the blacksmith become pirate captain.
Bored from everything he had been doing on deck, Bill Turner went to his son's cabin with a book in his hand. As he approached, the organ melody became louder. He walked in the room, cursed as he stepped on a carving, and kicked a path to the table. He pulled a few carvings from his usual chair before sitting down and putting his feet on the table. He continued his book. The organ stopped followed by a long sigh. After a long while, the sound of a knife carving into wood replaced the music. He glanced over his book.
"Another sea turtle," he noted.
"I like sea turtles. A pair of them can get me anywhere," replied Will, smoothing the edges.
"You have at least fifty pairs," Bill told him.
"Technically, I only have fifty. You have a pair which would have made it fifty one, but the fifty first pair belongs to you," said Will.
Bill rolled his eyes as he glanced as his mind pictured his pair of turtles sitting beside his bed in his quarters.
Will softly laughed. He blew on the carving then looked at it. Satisfied with it, he set it down next to the other one.
Bill gazed around the chamber again. He set his book down, careful not to lose his page then collected the scattered carvings around. He set them on the shelves with the rest and stacked them on top one another.
"You would have made a fine toy maker," he noted.
"I was," said Will.
"Swords are not toys," Bill told him.
"They are if you are a pirate," said Will.
Bill had to laugh. Will did have a good point. Swords, knives, and pistols were a pirate's favorite toys. He pulled a chair next to the bench Will sat on and sat backwards. He glanced at the ledge on the organ. The music box sat neatly on it next to a few figures. He took two into his palm. One of them he placed close in front to his face.
"Do you like? Does it look like him?" asked Will.
"Will, this is absolutely amazing. It looks just like him," said Bill.
Will took his carving of Jack Sparrow. It was good. He pointed to the rest next to his father. Gibbs, Marty, Pintel, Ragetti, Barbossa, 'Jack' the Monkey, Bill, one of himself, and one of Elizabeth.
"Just what do you intend to do with these carvings, all of them?" wondered Bill.
Will shrugged as he opened a wooden chest carving. He brushed his fingers back and forth. Sighing deeply, the look came across his face. He looked into the chest and began scooping whatever was in it.
Bill played a few notes on the organ. He glanced at his son. He eyes widened as sand slipped through his son's fingers into the chest. The jar was next to it. Empty.
"Will, I told you to keep the sand in the jar," he said furious.
"It's contained in the chest. I can still play with it," Will told him.
Bill sighed. "Just be careful you hear?" he requested.
"I am twenty-two for the fifth time now," noted Will as he shut the chest.
Bill nodded. His eyes widened with tears. Will had carved the Dead Man's Chest. The design was the exact same and the size was very similar if not exact.
"How can you have such a thing?" he asked.
"It's not the real thing, it serves as a reminder, and it holds my sand," replied Will. "I don't understand how she can though. My son. The wait is half over. These next five years are never going to end."
"William, we have quite a bit of rum," warned Bill. Will sat up quickly. "I do have your birthday gift though."
He fumbled in his clothes and pockets. Satisfied, he pulled a small pouch from on his belt.
Will took it. He let the contents fall into his palm. "They're rings."
"I know it is five years too late, but now is better than not at all," said Bill.
"They are wedding rings," added Will as he held one to the light.
Both were gold and woven. One was slightly smaller than the other and bore small diamonds and rubies. The other bore diamonds and sapphires. Will set that one on his finger. Perfect.
"Your mother and I had ones just like these. The rubies represented her burning love for me and the sapphires represented the sea because that's where were I fell in love. The diamonds represent our eternal love. The ring is a Celtic knot. Celtic knots never end. It is a knot that continues on forever. Your love for Elizabeth and her love to you," Bill told him softly.
Will smiled as he held his hand in front of him. The jewels bounced off the walls. He placed Elizabeth's ring in the bag. He tightly tied the strings.
"Do we have any empty bottles?" he asked.
During the next sunrise in World's End, Will Turner made a voyage to the true world. Sunset. He stood at the bow alone while placing a rolled letter under the strings of the bag. He gently stuffed both in an empty bottle then corked it. Listening to the water's heartbeat, he shut his eyes and held the bottle close to him. Behind him, the crew watched silently, having a sense of his pain.
"Calypso, I need your help and staying true to my duty given is all I have for payment. I need you to shift the currents of the seas to Elizabeth. Please, let this bottle wash upon her shores. Let her find it. Let her know I still think of her and love her. You said the sea would gift me for doing this duty. Gift me now. Please, let Elizabeth find it," Will whispered to the sea.
He threw the bottle far out and watched it splash. The wind's speed and increased. He gazed at the horizon and the true sunset.
"I have another idea for your carvings," began Bill softly. He stood beside his son and pulled him close.
"Hmm," Will whispered.
"The master toy maker should give them to the children that pass through on this ship," added Bill.
With a smile, Will nodded. "At least you changed the subject rather than using rum."
"For now if you continue with this attitude," said Bill. "Do we stay?"
Lowering his head, Will shook it.
Bill turned and gave the orders.
Will looked at the sunset. Less than five years.
A new pattern began with Captain Turner. He no longer recruited more members into service unless it was the last option of life. Instead, he began helping the survivors by given them food, water, clean bandages, and the nearest destination for civilization. His mind sensed whenever a ship was taken and men were dying. Not only were pirates and civilians helped, but marines as well. None of the Dutchman crew much approved that decision. Will assure them it was better than seeing another dead soul. They went between worlds quite often. More than anyone else, which was difficult to believe, Bill worried about that. Being favored by the one who charged the duty, Will didn't worry. He was doing as told but in a different sort of sense. Most pleasing, the Flying Dutchman was becoming a ship again instead of a wooden carving toyshop. Every child that had been seen by the captain was invited to come to his cabin and choose one carving or two sea turtles. Will told them that sea turtles must always come in pairs. With every child, Bill saw Will becoming more and more of a better father. His son at least got to spend a little while with children near his son's age.
More than anything, Will wished he could see his little boy again. He sat on the mast during a sunset in World's End. He blew the dust from the top of the turtle then studied it.
"Will, another child has been brought aboard," called Bill.
Will sighed as he shook his head. He set his knife and the turtle in his sash before climbing down the rigging. He looked at the child.
The little boy couldn't be more than seven years old. His face was lightly freckled. His light brown hair was wavy, almost like Elizabeth's. The color was exactly the same. His rich brown eyes were moist and frightened. He looked strong, but his face was pale. He wore dark trousers, a white tunic, and no shoes. He gazed around the ship then at Will.
Bill went to his son. "There is something about this boy. I'm not sure he is entirely dead," he whispered.
Will slowly went to the boy. He knelt in front of him and gave him a soft smile. The boy looked at him, almost crying. Will's eyes suddenly became confused and afraid. His eyes looked like the boy's. As the boy began crying, Will reached out to set his hand on his face. The boy backed away.
"You're all right. I'm not going to hurt you. I promise," said Will.
"Who are you?" the boy asked softly.
"Will Turner," replied Will.
The boy looked around. "Will Turner. I know that name. I hear it somewhere," he said.
"I would imagine so. After all, I am captain of the Flying Dutchman, which is this ship," Will said proudly.
The boy whipped his head to Will. "Flying Dutchman. That's the ship that ferry people that die at sea. I thought Davy Jones was captain. No, mummy said someone else took his place. She never telled me who. I know Will Turner. I know that name really good. I don't remember."
"You know a lot about the Flying Dutchman," noted Will.
"Mummy tells me stories of the sea before bed time," said the boy. Something seemed to dawn on the boy's face. "Did I die?"
"Well, this ship ferries the souls of those that have died at sea," said Will quietly.
"Mummy!" the boy cried, bursting into tears.
"It's okay," said Will, wiping the tears from the boy's face.
The boy wrapped his arms around Will, crying into his shoulder.
Will pushed the boy from his arms. He set his hand on the boy's forehead then face. "You're burning with fever. You're not dead," he noted.
"I not?" the boy wondered.
"That's not possible. He must be dead. His soul came to us," said Bill.
Will shrugged. "What's your name?"
"William. I think my mummy calls me Will. I think I'm six," he said, life difficult to remember.
"What does your father call you?" asked Will.
"I never knowed my father," said the boy sadly. "He was made captain of a ship before I was born. I think mummy said he was on the other side of the world doing something really special and important." He lowered his eyes, remembering as much as he could. "Mummy tells me a lot that he comes home as soon as he can."
Will's eyes widened as he gently grasped the boy's arms. "Who is your mother?"
The boy looked around. His lip trembled as he shrugged. "I don't know. I don't remember. I remember her tell me stories about pirates and a big battle and about my daddy."
Will plopped on deck. He stared at the boy. His eyes met the boy's eyes. The boy's eyes were a rich, warm brown. Will felt he was looking in a mirror.
"Will, he can't stay son. He's not dead," said Bill quietly.
"But," began Will. "I think he's…" He shook his head. "Forget it."
"I go home now?" asked the boy.
"Aye," said Will.
"Don't forget the carving son," said Bill.
Will handed the boy the sea turtle he just carved.
"It's only one," the boy noted.
"I'll make the other and ask the sea to give it to you," said Will.
The boy nodded. He grabbed his arm.
"Can I see this?" asked Will, touching the black cord around the boy's neck.
"Mummy said daddy gived it to me," said the boy.
Will pulled the black cord from under the boy's tunic. A red bead and a few coins were at the bottom. A seashell was strung on the side. Even without his heart, Will's eyes teared as he hid the necklace under the tunic. He smiled at the boy.
"Come on, let's get you home," he said.
"I like you," said the boy.
"Come here," said Will, with open arms. The boy went into his arms. Will shut his eyes. He kissed the boy's face. "We'll see each other in a few years."
"We will," said the boy.
Will nodded. "Aye, but you have to go home. It's not your time. I think your mother wants to see you again though. Do me a favor?" The boy nodded. "Keep a weather eye on the horizon."
"Okay," said the boy with a huge nod.
Will pulled the boy close again. He hummed his lullaby and rubbed the boy's back. He rocked back and forth a few moments. He watched the boy's eyes slowly shut as the boy leaned into his body.
Will held the sleeping child close. "I love you," he whispered in the boy's ear before setting him back in his boat.
He turned the boat around and gave it a gentle push. As the boat floated the other way, he followed it until he reached the bow. Each moment, the little boy became more alive.
"Make sure he finds his way home," he told the sea.
The sea had mysterious ways of reuniting people after all, but he knew that as he turned back to his father who was settling himself in a corner with a book in his hand.