Bootstrap watched from the deck of the Dutchman as Jack Sparrow brandished a jar of dirt.
When they had first broken the surface to broadside the Pearl, Bill Turner had found himself simultaneously overjoyed and horrified to see William aboard the opposing ship. It had been hard enough watching the merchant vessel torn apart by the Kraken, and though Jones had been convinced that the boy had survived, Bootstrap knew that his son's only hope was to be picked up by a passing crew. He had never been a particularly religious man in his previous life, attending church only as an obeisance to his wife, but in that moment, as he surveyed the mangled wreckage dotted with corpses, he had earnestly prayed for the first time in years.
Now, he prayed again, but couldn't shake the sensation of futility. In all his time aboard the Dutchman, he had never known Jones to fall short of finishing a task. The dreaded captain would take the Pearl to the depths, and Bootstrap knew that he would be forced to look on as it happened. He would have to see his son die a second time.
The two commanders were shouting at one another now, and the order to unleash hell was seconds away when Jack and William threatened the destruction of the prized heart.
They all felt Jones's rage explode then, the ancient beams of the Dutchman channeling her captain's strongest emotions like a lightning rod. There was no direct link between Jones and his crew, but the ship was a medium: the crew was bound to the Dutchman, and the Dutchman answered to her captain. Now, the decayed boards hummed with fury, a veritable tuning fork of sentiment.
The briefest flicker of hope stirred inside Bootstrap as he realized that his old friend possessed the one bargaining chip that could be used against Davy Jones, but then the hope was quashed as quickly as it had come when his captain suddenly appeared on the deck of the rival ship, and Sparrow went tumbling down the steps. And then the heart was in Jack's hands and there was absolutely nothing stopping Jones from taking back what was his and sending the Pearl to her doom.
What happened next Bill Turner could only describe as a miracle, and he thought that if he ever made it back to land, his first order of business was to find a church.
A tall man who looked like a deck hand, and who had thus far been doing very little, suddenly strode forward with an extreme sense of purpose, grabbed hold of Jack's pistol, and effectively took Davy Jones hostage.
The shouts and cries of the Dutchman's crew died with a strangled sound as another wave of rage flared, only to fade into a malicious sort of amusement when Jones turned towards the deck hand. Bootstrap would have given an arm to hear what was being said between the two men. He had never seen anyone threaten the captain and live, and he waited for the tall man's resolve to crumble, but the moment never came. Instead the pair glared at one another, standing eye to eye, while Jack remained rooted to the deck.
Frustration began to gnaw at Jones, growing as the confrontation dragged on, finally peaking when the deck hand shoved the barrel of the pistol against the heart. Then something inside the captain caved and began to smolder, Jack began to talk, and Will left the helm to join the conversation.
Jones's fish-men stared on in disbelief.
Negotiations had begun.
As Bootstrap watched in stunned silence, he dared to hope again. Though he knew that he probably should have continued to fear for Will's safety or for the fate of the Pearl, instead his only thoughts were of a knife, a promise, and the dream of finally leaving this God-forsaken ship. His son had sworn an oath that he would not rest until he had freed his father from the clutches of the Dutchman, and now Bootstrap knew that was why he was speaking to Jones now. Despite coming to the realization that he knew very little of the sort of man William Turner the Younger was, in his heart he was sure that his boy would not abandon him.
On the deck of the Pearl, Will was demanding something insistently while Jones snarled in dissatisfaction, and then Jack interjected a last word. All the while, the tall man with the pistol stood by mutely, staring ahead with a burning hatred the intensity of which Bootstrap had seen few people muster.
And then Jones was suddenly gone from the Pearl before reappearing not an instant later upon his own ship, where he glowered while his own crew stared back and exchanged questioning looks. Bootstrap slowly released his grip on the Dutchman's railing, white knuckles fading to grey, before he stepped back and waited for his captain to speak.
Davy Jones suddenly rounded on him.
"Bill Turner-uh!" he spat, drawing out the syllables in disgust as he jabbed a clawed hand forward.
"Your debt has been paid-uh."
Bootstrap had been expecting the words, but hearing them was another matter entirely. A wave of emotion nearly overtook as the weight of a decade seemed to lift from his shoulders, and when he blinked away tears he saw that the inhuman filth of the Dutchman had begun to fall away. The crusting of sea life crumbled to the deck while the hue of his skin returned from ash to pale pink, and he felt the chronic stiffness in his joints recede.
After all these years, he finally felt human again.
He barely noticed when Jones shouted for the chest to be brought, or when Maccus grabbed hold of his shoulder. He only knew that in the space of a moment he found himself on the deck of the Pearl, familiar timbers creaking underfoot while his old friend, and rightful captain, looked on.
"You look bloody awful, mate," commented Jack, frowning.
Bootstrap wanted to laugh, but found that he couldn't over the lump in his throat, so instead he forced a smile. And then he caught sight of Will standing beside Jack and he overcame the weakness in his knees to rush forward. No force from heaven, or from the hell he had just left behind, could have stopped him from embracing his son in that moment.
This time, he couldn't have blinked away the tears if he had tried.
Author's Note:
So, after many moons, I give to you this short and crappy chapter. I apologize for both its shortness and crappiness, which is a result of me having way too much stuff going on the past few months.
I would like to thank everybody who has reviewed since the last chapter, especially those of you who are "Guests" (if you're even still reading this). Your kind comments have kept me motivated, knowing that people are actually still finding this story. Hopefully I won't keep you all waiting quite as long for the next installment.