Daughter of the Dutchman: The Other Jack and My Mother's Treasure
The highlight of my early teenage life was another visitor from the sea. This one less expected then the others.
Captain Jack Sparrow was a very random man.
Mother and I had been living alone for the past four years. Jack and Angelica had a child, a boy. My mother hoped that Jack would name him William, but it was not to be. The child's name was Edward, after Angelica's father.
That morning was like any other: I woke up, ate, and did my chores. Then I went to the beach. But that morning a ship came around the cove. A ship with black sails.
Of course I recognized it. Mother spoke of it once, and I had seen it many times in my dreams. It seemed to be a major part of my parents past. It was the Black Pearl, and she was magnificent.
Like the last time a ship sailed into our harbor, I did not move. Like last time, my mother came down the cliff. Like last time, she stood with me as a dingy detached itself from the black ship.
Unlike last time, she was not smiling.
The dingy landed, a single man sitting in it. A worn out, tri-corn hat covered his head and most of the patterned red bandanna that held his dreadlocked hair back. Trinkets and beads peeked out from underneath his hat, attached to his hair. His knee length jacket looked like it had seen better days, as did his white shirt, blue vest, and black breeches. His brown boots were worn out as well, but were still serviceable.
He carried a sword, a knife, and at least three guns that were visible. Others were there, for certain, but that was to be expected from a pirate. And a pirate he was.
"Ah, Elizabeth!" He grinned, revealing several gold teeth. "Long time, not enough seeing, eh?"
I kept my mouth shut, my face schooled in a mask of indifference. My brother had taught me to use that well; Angelica infuriated me for no apparent reason other than the fact she took my brother away.
"Jaaaaack." My mother drew out the "a" longer than normal. "What could possibly possess you to come here?"
Jack Sparrow chuckled. "A couple of mermaids on the beach, of course. Who is this bonny lass I should be knowing?" He jerked his head in my direction, where I was sitting on a boulder. I stiffened, but my mother just shook her head.
"This is Calypso, my daughter."
At this, Jack Sparrow raised an eyebrow. "And how is the William?" I felt like he had said these words before. Maybe Calypso had mentioned it in a dream? There had been so many over the years ...
"Alive." My mother said scathingly. "You would see him more often, Jack." She turned and began to walk up the cliff path. I could tell she was trying to hide the tears that any mention of Father brought up.
I had ceased asking long ago; the sea was information enough, and more freely given.
I glared at the Captain, shook my head slightly, and then followed her up the cliff.
And the stupid Sparrow followed. He had this odd way of walking, hands never idle, feet alternating between large strides and small shuffles.
I hoped he fell off the cliff. But, alas! He did not, instead inviting himself into our cottage and sitting at our table, his feet propped up. He just smiled.
Don't boder being angry wid Captain Jack Sparrow, Calypso's voice whispered. He is not word your time.
I rolled my eyes, and went to find my mother.
~*~The Dutchman~*~
He stayed with us for the night, talking all the while to my mother about people she knew that I did not.
I had found her in her bedroom, crying. She hugged the iron-bound chest in her arms, her ear pressed against the top. I finally convinced her to come out again and be a hostess, even if he was a pirate that had inadvertently hurt her.
It was the first time I had had an opportunity to look at it closely, much less touch it. The chest she left on the bed, so I went to put it away, where it usually was. I almost dropped it when I felt a thump-thump from inside. It repeated itself after a pause, like a heartbeat.
It is your faders heart. Calypso murmured.
Literally? I had to ask, but did so silently. She always managed to hear.
Yes. Bootstrap Bill Turner, your grandfather, cut out your fader's heart and made him de Captain of de Flying Dutchman.
I could feel the color draining from my face. That was … barbaric.
I know.You 'ave Davey Jones to dank for dat. He cut out 'is own heart because de woman he loved was not dere. Calypso chuckled softly.
Who was she?I asked, hesitating.
Who else, but de sea?
My hands shook as I put the chest away, under my mother's bed.
And I cursed her, the sea goddess, for cursing my father, albeit in a roundabout manner. I cursed her for plaguing me with these dreams for the past four years. I cursed her for bringing up the past.
I cursed my father for not being here when I needed him the most. I cursed my mother for not being able to understand me. I cursed my brother, because I finally understood his hate.
But most of all, I cursed myself. For loving my family. For understanding their pain. For wanting a normal life.
For loving the sea.
But in the end, there was nothing I could do. Those curses fell on the wind and were swept away, leaving me drained of my anger and hurt.
I felt empty. Alone.
Now I was the one sitting on my mother's bed, on top of my father's heart, crying my eyes out like a child.
Alone.