"The Captain is ready for you now," a stocky English soldier with a musket informed the two recently woken up pirates.
"You didn't have to poke us with the stick, mate. A good holler would've done it," Jack grouched, stretching. "You official types might want to have a talk to your superiors 'bout the quality of your beds. There's more fleas in here than on me head." He gestured to his 'bed' of rock and straw.
"You'll manage," the officer said with a military monotone. "I've been instructed to lead you to the port where we will be setting sail."
"Oh, so this piece of golden sunshine will be coming along with us! Isn't that just wonderful, Mr. Gibbs?" Jack stood up and walked to the iron door and held on to a bar while the officer unlocked the door.
"Fantastic, Captain," Gibbs replied, still trying to be on Jack's good side due to his big mistake the other day.
The officer made no more comments, though Jack tried to get a rise out of him. Jack was back in his old manner, still as crazy as before, just not quite as hung over. He figured, as long as he would be sailing alongside prissy governmental types, he might as well mock the hell outta them.
It didn't take very long to get back to the port, and this time there were many more people milling around the giant boat than before. The broken boards from the other day had been fixed, along with the cut ropes and the tarnished sail. Burly workers were rolling barrels and barrels of supplies up a board and into the storage compartment. So many people working on one ship wasn't quite Jack's style. He preferred the perfect number of sailors, a mix of just enough to pilot the ship, and too few to have a mutiny against him. He'd learned from last time that too many powerful sailors just led to trouble.
"Ah, thank you soldier for bringing the baggage. Normally I would say dump them below decks, but this time they will have the spot of honor near the wheel." Captain Porter smiled humorlessly, his migraine now fully gone. He suspected it would come back soon though, just by the look that Sparrow was giving him.
"Thank you for your kind handlement," Jack nodded to the soldier importantly and stepped closer to the ship. "The more time I'm on this boat, the happier I will be."
"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure of that," Porter replied curtly. He nodded to two more nearby soldiers. "Please escort these… nuisances on board. And keep the cuffs on."
"How much help from the Holy English Navy will we be getting?" Jack asked as the men began to tug him along.
Porter narrowed his eyes. "Not much, I can tell you that. This ship, and some reinforcements if we don't return in time."
Jack shook his head incredulously. "Does your Majesty honestly think you have much of a chance against all the powers of Barbossa?"
"Yes," Porter replied shortly.
"Well, my faith does not run as strong. Yer going to need some help."
"Help from more pirates? I can assure you Captain Sparrow, you are all the pirate we need."
Jack needed to convince this man that Barbossa was dangerous. He had friends in very low places, and from places all around the world at that. If Porter assumed that this ship was all they needed, he was extremely incorrect. "You don't want more illustrious men dying than you have to, eh? Let me friends do it fer you."
Porter was silent for a moment. Then he turned angrily to his crew. "Ready the ship! I will be back shortly!" Turning to Jack, he growled. "Make this quick, Sparrow. If this wastes any more time than it has to, I swear I'll take the losses out of you in blood."
"Trust me, mate. It'll be fabulous. But it'll be mighty hard to show you around with cuffed hands," Jack pointed out and jingled his hands.
"Yes, it will. But you'll manage."
They walked briskly down the streets of London, Porter keeping a short leash between himself and Sparrow. Gibbs was left in the hands of the English sailors, so there was one less person to go and look for should Sparrow try and make one of his famous escapes. They stopped finally at a pub, which didn't surprise Porter at all.
"I'll make this one fast," Jack said, making his way in.
"Don't be so quick about it, I'm coming in with you."
Jack shook his head. "A single soldier in uniform surrounded by dozens of armed and intoxicated pirates, probably had a close encounter with the East India Trading Company at least once? Not a smart move, mate."
Porter glared at him, expressing his rage in a manner words could not. "Fine," he muttered. "But make this quick."
Jack strode purposefully into the tavern, his dark eyes sweeping over the contains after adjusting to the dim environment. The man he was looking for was not often easily found, but was always there.
"Hello, Jack. You're looking for me, I figure." The husky voice of Captain Teague, Jack's very own father, came from behind him. The only person better at sneaking around behind a person besides Jack himself was Captain Teague.
"Yes," Jack replied swiftly, turning to face the aging pirate. His already lined face had grown more engraved since the last time they had met, and his eyes no longer held the spark of adventure they had once had. In his hand there was a bottle of alcohol, and his pistol was missing.
"Let's find a table." They set out to find a table, but they ended up with a barrel turned right up. Neither of them talked at first, Teague reading his son's face. "Yer confused, boy."
Jack cleared his throat. "You seem… different."
Teague laughed, surprising Jack. "Yeah, 'cause I am. I'm gettin' older boy, there's no use denying that. My swashbuckling days are long gone, and I'm tired. Bone tired. Tired o' wakin' up and still feeling a battle in yer muscles that you hadn't fought in twenty years. Tired o' wakin' up 'fraid that the navy'll finally catch up ter ya. Tired o' being hung over."
"If yer so tired, then why've you brought that?" Jack asked skeptically, gesturing to the bottle clutched in his father's hand.
"This? This poison's fer you. I don't drink no more. I'd like to live 's long as I can, an' this ain't doin' me no help." Jack grabbed the green bottle and began to chug whatever was in the bottle, groaning appreciatively. "What are you doin', strapped up in irons anyway?"
"Oh," Jack mumbled, his bad mood returning. "I had a bit of a run in with the illustrious Navy, as it were. I'm here to recruit."
Teague raised an eyebrow. "An' you thought I'd help ya? Smart boy." Swiftly, the older man stood up. "I'll be right back with a crew or two."
"Wait," Jack called, then swallowed. Teague turned, an amused look on his face. "What do you mean when you say yer tired o' everything?"
"I mean I'm dying."
"How did it go?" Porter asked, trying to leave the anxiety out of his voice, but failing. He'd been waiting so long he figured that Jack had made a run for it, and was about to go in and inquire about the pirate's whereabouts.
"I have two more boats waiting for us down by the port. If the price is right, they'll fight for Satan in all his glory. We should be able to convince 'em no problem."
"Good. Now we must get back as quickly as we can."
The walk back was as uneventful as the trip to the tavern, and when they reached their ship, two surly looking pirates were already waiting for them.
"Cap Salty, an' this here 's Cap Bo. Our ships're over there."
"What do you expect in return for this voyage, pirates?" Porter asked disdainfully, sizing up their ships with a critical eye. They smiled toothily at each other and Porter became impatient. "Well, whatever the figure, divide it by three and that's what your sum will be. Now, can we please hit the seas before I die of old age?"
"Now will you take off me handcuffs?" Jack asked.
Porter smiled as the two pirates were led up the boarding plank. "We will take them off once we are a suitable distance from land. Though I know you will try and escape, it will be more difficult to do so. Besides, we will have guards watching your every move."
"I can't have you do that, matey. I'd like some privacy when I'm doing my business," Jack winked at the Englishman, who rolled his eyes. "Besides, what might I be looking for?"
"Led them to my cabin," Porter instructed the officers that had a tight grip on the pirates. "I will explain everything there. Or, at least everything I feel you need to know."
Jack was too interested to bother with sarcasm or witty comebacks, so he just followed. Both pirates were led to the Captain's quarters, simply but lavishly decorated. Jack raised an eyebrow, wondering where he was going to be if he was the captain. Porter caught the change in his expression and laughed. "You, Captain Sparrow, will be sleeping and dining with the crew, where they all can keep an eye on you." He used his title to mock him, and gestured for the officers to sit them down at the mahogany table in the center of the room. It had a map on it, and Jack glanced at it for any indication as to what was going on.
"So, what do you already know, Sparrow?"
"I know that you allowed an eel to slither back on board, he double crossed you and made off with one of yer fancy schmancy treasures."
Porter chose to ignore the deliberate jab at his government. "Not just anything Sparrow, a map. Do you have any idea where this stolen map might lead us?" Jack shrugged, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, but ending up just looking ridiculous. "We ourselves have only a vague idea, but we narrowed it down to it being the famous Helm of Darkness." He smiled at the lack of reaction at this piece of information. "It is the helmet that Greek heroes and gods often wore to escape capture or win a battle. It was the property of the god of the underworld, Hades. Or Pluto, as the Romans called him."
"Yer meaning to tell me that you believe all the ancient hocus pocus?" Jack smiled. "And what be makin' this helmet so… powerful?"
"It has the power to turn the wearer and the objects of his choosing surrounding him invisible, and thereby indestructible. Barbossa clearly wants the advantage of a sneak attack during his battles, and it is your job to track him down before he gets the chance."
Jack stroked his beard, narrowing his eyes. "Where might this do hickey be?"
"Sparrow, Hades was the god of the underworld. Use a bit of your miniscule brain, think for yourself where it might be!"
Suddenly a smile broke out on Gibbs face and he turned to Jack, who had the 'I've got a plan' look in his eye. "If it's the underworld yer after," he said finally. "I might be able to get you all there without a map, or even a compass."
Porter frowned, disbelieving. "Then how else are we supposed to find the entrance?"
"Just find me a good shipwreck. A small one will do, just make sure there are some dead and nearly dead. I've got meself a friend to catch up with."
The shipwreck was as good as any, the mast was completely broken in half, the sails were torn and there was an obvious gaping hole in the side. Porter looked disgusted by it, but Jack smiled.
"It's perfect, can't you see?" Jack spun the wheel closer to the ship, and when it was only a few meters away, he gestured wildly for Gibbs to come over. Gibbs was grinning at Porter's obvious obliviousness to the situation.
"What are you-?" Porter began to ask as Jack stood on top of the railing closest to the broken and nearly sunken ship. He then startled everyone but Gibbs when he turned around, grasping the loose rope nearby and swinging off of it onto the other ship. Porter and several other officials rushed over to the railing in shock. "What are you doing, you fool?" Porter shouted incredulously.
Jack tapped his ears to say that he couldn't hear anything, then held up a finger. He seemed to be straining to listen, completely ignoring the feeble moans of the still living on board. After a few more long, awkward, moments of no action, the aggravated official rolled his eyes.
"Sparrow, get back on board! You're wasting our time!"
Jack merely made a frantic hand waving motion that Porter took to mean that he should be quiet. Upset that a pirate was leading him around on a leash, he opened his mouth to tell Sparrow off again, but paused when he saw a large ripple from across the sea.
"There we are!" Jack called loudly up to them, a pleased and self- satisfied grin on his face. "Knew he wouldn't miss a single boat, the good soul."
"What the bloody hell is he babbling on about, Gibbs?" he muttered to the pirate steering the ship, and Gibbs just smiled mysteriously.
The ripple got closer and closer until it completely came above the water, the wooden jaws popping out threateningly. The ship was entirely black, and the sails were worn. Though it looked slightly more taken care of since Jack's last encounter, no doubt due to the new Captain, it was still an intimidating sight to behold.
"Is that…?" Porter exclaimed in horror, his eyes widening.
Gibbs nodded. "The Flying Dutchman." His grin widened when he finally caught sight of the youth at the wheel of the giant ship, his shoulder length hair blowing in the wind beneath the bandana tied around his head. The captain didn't seem aware of what was going on yet, but when Jack started waving around on the bow of the ship, a wave of recognition flashed across his face.
Swiftly, the boat pulled up on the other side of the sinking ship, and several of the crew leaped from The Dutchman and began to round up the dead and dying, throwing the bodies over their shoulders or lending them a shoulder to lean on. The man at the wheel gave it to another, and after he had a word with his quick- working crew, he hopped into the boat himself and strode, almost angrily towards the bow, where Jack was waiting with open arms.
"What's going on?" The captain of the Twilight Vengeance asked, pulling out his telescope.
"That be William Turner Jr, the new Captain of The Flying Dutchman. Aye, he and Jack go a long way back. Matter of fact Will and I go back a long ways too. What he does is bring the sailors at sea to the afterlife, so if it be the Underworld ye be wantin' to get to, Will's the one."
"Hmm." He twisted the telescope, trying desperately to figure out what was going on.
"William Senior Junior, it is so nice to see you," Jack smiled, giving Will an unreturned hug.
Will raised an eyebrow, and readjusted his own leather bracelet, feigning disinterest. Truth be told, he was actually very happy to see Jack, but he also knew his friend far too well. Jack wasn't likely to be here, with an English ship to boot, without wanting something, or in big trouble. Usually it was both. "What do you want, Jack?"
Jack frowned, for he'd forgotten how good Will was at reading him. "Nothing, ol' chap. What's wrong with buying a pal a drink? So why don't we go back on yer ship, find a nice and cozy pub, and pop open a pint, eh?"
"You don't buy other people drinks, Jack."
Jack brightened again. "That's right, I planned on you paying anywho."
Will sighed, wanting more than anything to take him up on his offer, but he had a job to do. Looking over to his father glancing quizzically at him from the side of the boat, he gave him an exasperated look. William Turner the First shrugged his shoulders and turned his head towards the steering wheel, indicating that he'd be able to take over until Will called for the ship.
"You know I can't go off on land."
Jack shrugged. "A minor setback, I'll get the drink for you. That means that I have to pay for it, then! Mr. English Knickers over there might have a complaint, but I'll turn him round."
"Yes, why are you with the English Navy?"
"All in due time. Now, kip on over to my little warship over there, and we'll have a nice little chat."
And so, a suspicious sea captain and a tipsy almost- captain went on board the English war vessel. Jack led him to his living quarters, introducing his companion to the sights and people. They stared at the ocean hardened youth, the moon shaped scar that showed where his own father had carved out his heart peeping out distractingly from the open halves of his now heavily stained white shirt. Will stared back, hardly blinking, at the soldiers.
Truth be told, he felt the echoes of his past come out to haunt him, and though he felt at home among the waves and ships, he felt as if another life was coming back to haunt him. Had he not gone after Elizabeth, met Jack, and started this whole crazy ordeal, he might have been one of them. He could have been respectable.
Will finally entered Jack's chamber feeling somewhat put out, and the feeling only worsened when Jack pulled out some high quality vineyard wine of some sort. Jack made a face, but then pulled out two crystal goblets.
"Strictly speaking, I'm not supposed to be dipping into the royal supply, but desperate times call for desperate measures, right?" He ripped the cork out with his teeth and poured a generous amount of wine in each. "I won't say no to some alcoholic comforts."
He walked the two drinks over to where Will had tentatively sat down and outright took a long, deep sip from his. "Ay, that hits the spot," Jack smiled appreciatively.
Will took the other goblet halfheartedly; knowing that if he didn't Jack would force the drink down his throat. He sipped, hardly tasting the rich wine that he rolled around in his mouth. These long years had been rough on him, and his senses seemed to have dulled. "How is she, Jack?"
Jack took a break from his chugging and fell silent. He rubbed a spot on his beard absentmindedly, picking at dirt and trying to figure out an answer. Finally, he turned toward his best friend, putting on his most serious face. "She's doin' fine, mate."
Will closed his eyes, the pain of their last meeting overwhelming him. He let out a long breath to try and calm himself down; he wasn't ready to talk about Elizabeth, and Jack knew that. Jack had met up briefly with the now Mrs. Turner on her second wedding anniversary and they'd talked about old times, and Jack planned to tell Will. Just not yet. They had more pressing matters to discuss first before walking down memory lane.
"You may be wondering why I'm on an English ship?" Jack prompted, attempting to steer away his friends' attention. Will nodded, his mind determinedly focusing on the new topic. "You heard about what happened at the Fountain of Youth, did you not?"
Will nodded. "Of course, who hasn't?"
Jack shrugged modestly. "Well, after Barbossa was made the new captain of the Queen Anne's Revenge, he decided he had more business in England. After buddy-ing up to the navy again, he stole a map. This map leads to a very important artifact in the underworld and-"
"And you need me to help and get it for you, I presume?"
"Don't presume, it's a damned fact." Jack finished off the rest of his glass. "Are you going to finish that? Fine stuff, this is."
Will rolled his eyes, after all these years still astonished that Jack's attentions could be so easily diverted. "Go ahead." Jack took the still nearly full crystal goblet from Will's hand and began to drink from it. "I'm sorry Jack, but if it's the Helm of Darkness you're after, I can't help you."
Jack choked on the wine. "Well, why ever not?"
"Because, Jack, I have a job now," Will explained as if speaking to a child and stood up, beginning to pace. "It's up to me to transfer souls to the underworld, and I can't back down from that duty. If I just stop doing it I'll- I'll end up like Davy Jones."
Jack didn't see the problem. "Yes, looking like Jonesy would put a bit of a damper on yer good looks mate, but I'm not be seeing the problem with escorting some old friends on yer way down, well, down there."
"You wouldn't," Will replied darkly. "I can travel faster with The Flying Dutchman than I can with several ships in tow. It would take me a normal man's journey to travel, and I can't waste that time when there are still men dying at sea." Jack pursed his lips, digesting the information and finally understanding that Will really wasn't going to be helping him. "I'm so sorry Jack, I wish I could do more."
"I just thought- of all people…" Jack muttered, then slapped his thigh and stood up. "No matter, I'll figure out something." He grinned. "Always do."
Will paused for a moment, then nodded. "I'm sure you will." He then walked to the door and held it open for the pirate, who bowed mockingly before prancing through.
They walked through the ship again, the crew now more curious than ever, and Will hopped up on the railing, The Flying Dutchman silhouetted in the background.
"Good luck, Jack." With a flash he was gone, the trick that Davy Jones had played on him more than once. In less than a second, Will was bounding up the steps of his own ship, reaching to take the wheel from his father.
"Don't be a stranger!" Jack shouted just as The Flying Dutchman sunk into the waters and out of view.
"And what was that about?" came a distasteful voice from behind Jack. "Did you accomplish anything, Sparrow?" Jack thought for a moment, then turned on his heels determinedly. "Wait, where are you going?"
"We are making a visit to Spain."
Porter's mouth dropped in surprise. "Whatever for?"