"Black Waters," Chapter Eleven
Title: Black Waters
Author:
sheila_snow
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jack Sparrow/Will Turner
Warnings: A/U, Angst, Non-Con, Gratuitous Will Turner Abuse
Disclaimer: The Mouse owns 'em -- he just doesn't know how to treat 'em right. I'm not treating them very nice either, but I'm most certainly not making any money from this!
Summary: A look into the past of a much younger William Turner.
A/N: The next two chapters of this story constitute a rather long flashback, but they do have a purpose -- rest assured!
Chapter Eleven
The despondent boy sat with his knees drawn up to his chest on the musty cot, rocking back and forth slowly in his distress. He hated this place, hated this ship, hated the situation that forced his mother and him to uproot themselves from the only real home he'd ever known.
And now this.
He placed his head onto his knees and stifled a sob, determined not to cry. He was almost grown now and wasn't a little boy anymore. He remembered his grandmother telling his mother that he was quite old enough to learn a trade, "Lest he become another worthless lout like his father. You coddle the boy too much, Sarah."
His mother had made urgent shushing noises, her liquid velvet murmur so different from the strident tones of his grandmother's voice, but it had not been the first time his grandmother had uttered those exact same words.
My father is not worthless, the boy thought angrily . . . and neither was he.
His father always had the most wondrous stories to tell - of the open sea and the exotic places he had visited - and it had always made Will's eyes widen with wonder to hear him tell of them.
But his father had last visited years ago, and young William Turner was finding his first experience at sea to be much harsher than the tales his father had told him. He had been horribly seasick at first, and the dark, dank cabin they had been given in the ship's hold had stifled his normal good spirits from the very beginning.
They had been thrown far off course by a savage storm, then becalmed, and the voyage had taken far longer than even his mother had ever thought possible. And now. . . .
He cut that thought off with another stifled sob, hearing the biting echoes of his grandmother's reproach even in the confines of this wretched cabin so many leagues away.
Willful, disobedient, untrustworthy! You know what happens to bad children, don't you, William?
He bit his lip, focusing on the familiar sounds of the water sluicing by the aged ship's sides, the creaking of the timbers and the sound of their single guttering lantern rubbing against the bulkhead with the ship's languid motion.
Their cabin was large, but only because it was normally used to transport goods, not people, rather than from any kindness on the part of the ship's master, his mother had told him. Still, he had memorized every inch of their temporary quarters in the endless months of their voyage; its contours, smells, and sounds as familiar to him as those of his old room, but even that was not a comfort to him now.
The boy rubbed his eyes, blinking back tears while he awaited his mother's return . . . and the dreadful confession he had to make to her.
Abruptly, his grandmother’s shrill voice seemed to echo in his skull like the harsh tones of the ship's damaged bell. Mark my words, boy, if you continue in your willful ways, the pirates will come to take you, as they do all the bad children!
Putting his head back down on his knees in despair, the boy didn't see the unnatural fog that drifted down through the open hatch above - creeping gray tendrils that advanced like ethereal serpents toward their unsuspecting prey.
------------------
Sarah Turner hurried down a dark passageway toward their stifling cabin - a hastily walled-off section of the main hold, installed merely to give this merchant ship's greedy captain a few more shillings to add to his already bulging purse.
She grimaced, ignoring the half-hearted offers and propositions from some of the ship's sailors lounging about on the crewdeck as she passed through. She eeled herself through a gauntlet of outstretched, beckoning hands. She was not overly concerned about the men, having established much earlier in the voyage - with her utilitarian knife and fierce nature - that she and her young son were not to be trifled with, despite her delicate features and small size.
It was easier this time because most of the men were up on deck dealing with the unexpected appearance of a dense, almost impenetrable fog that had enveloped the ship earlier in the watch.
The crew generally were not a bad lot in any case, but sailors would be sailors, and she had more than a little experience in knowing how to handle them.
Well, at least at one time she had.
She pushed stray wisps of auburn hair out of suddenly misting eyes and despaired again of ever discovering what had happened to her Bill. He had told her he would come back, that he would always come back to her and their son, but as the time passed, she became more and more worried that this time, he would not return.
Climbing awkwardly down a ladder in her petticoats, she continued through yet another dark passage, dimmed even more by the blanket of fog that seemed to have invaded even the bowels of the ship.
If it had been in her nature, she would have damned the luck that had driven her to this current impasse, but she, as usual, bore everything with her innate, stoic calm. The death of the aged woman who had been her employer for all of Sarah's adult life had been a massive blow, since the suddenness of the matron's death had left her with no place to live, no job, no references, and no prospects for a penniless mother with a hungry mouth to feed.
She closed her eyes briefly in sadness. Hungrier than usual, she thought, despairing.
They had had little money for this voyage, and her spiteful mother had given up little to help them with their journey. The ship's captain had first refused to take them without his standard fare, but his ingrained greediness finally granted them passage when part of his expected cargo failed to arrive at the docks on time.
However, he had slyly included the caveat that she and her son would not be fed from his own ship's stores, since she regrettably did not have the entire fee. "You do understand, of course, ma'am."
In desperation, Sarah had reluctantly agreed, knowing that she and William could no longer stay with her escalatingly disagreeable mother. Sarah was not entirely certain why her mother had taken such a dislike to sweet William, but the old woman had transferred her implacable hatred of pirates and her abject disapproval of Sarah's relationship with Bill onto an innocent, impressionable young boy.
Sighing aloud, Sarah hurried down the passageway. The domestic situation had become intolerable all too soon, and she had traded almost all her remaining possessions for this last, desperate attempt to find her missing husband.
The gold medallion, however, she had left with William, knowing that the undoubtedly valuable piece was the last remaining link the boy had to his father.
She knew something of ships and ship's stores from Bill, of course, and she thought she had planned adequately for their needs during the length of the voyage. But what she had not planned on was the seemingly countless delays and mishaps that had plagued this blighted ship since their departure, and her meager stores had depleted far too soon.
Her rationing had become more and more stringent - she constantly had a gnawing ache in her belly now - but she hated even more the effects the deprivations were having on her young son. He had grown even slimmer than his usual trim build, and his face had become gaunt with hunger and stress.
Oh, she had been able to add a little to their stores. Some of the sailors had taken pity on them and smuggled them food from time to time, but the whole ship was on short rations now because of the longer-than-expected journey, and the entire crew knew they would face the volatile anger of their captain if he discovered their "gifts."
Her face brightened briefly as she approached the battered oak hatchway to their abode. Now, at least, she finally had some good news to impart to her son. When the only maid of a haughty minor noblewoman had suddenly taken ill, Sarah had volunteered her services in return for rations of food. Distressed by the prospect of the interminable voyage being made harder by the necessity of caring for her own hair and cabin, the noblewoman had reluctantly agreed.
Sarah sighed again. And not a moment too soon!
Neither she nor her son had eaten in two days, the very last of their stores stashed away untouched in Bill's old sea chest for fear that there would be no more food until they reached Port Royal. She couldn't wait to see her young son's eyes light up when she told him they could finally eat the last of the weevily bread and salted pork. It would surely seem like a feast to him!
She found herself humming the lively tune that her Bill had always seemed to be singing when young William was abed and unable to hear. Oh, how her mother had despised that song!
But Sarah was in love with a pirate, had married a pirate, and maybe, someday, the pirate's life would be hers, as well.
_____________________
Author:
sheila_snow
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jack Sparrow/Will Turner
Warnings: A/U, Angst, Non-Con, Gratuitous Will Turner Abuse
Disclaimer: The Mouse owns 'em -- he just doesn't know how to treat 'em right. I'm not treating them very nice either, but I'm most certainly not making any money from this!
Summary: A look into the past of a much younger William Turner.
A/N: The next two chapters of this story constitute a rather long flashback, but they do have a purpose -- rest assured!
Chapter Eleven
The despondent boy sat with his knees drawn up to his chest on the musty cot, rocking back and forth slowly in his distress. He hated this place, hated this ship, hated the situation that forced his mother and him to uproot themselves from the only real home he'd ever known.
And now this.
He placed his head onto his knees and stifled a sob, determined not to cry. He was almost grown now and wasn't a little boy anymore. He remembered his grandmother telling his mother that he was quite old enough to learn a trade, "Lest he become another worthless lout like his father. You coddle the boy too much, Sarah."
His mother had made urgent shushing noises, her liquid velvet murmur so different from the strident tones of his grandmother's voice, but it had not been the first time his grandmother had uttered those exact same words.
My father is not worthless, the boy thought angrily . . . and neither was he.
His father always had the most wondrous stories to tell - of the open sea and the exotic places he had visited - and it had always made Will's eyes widen with wonder to hear him tell of them.
But his father had last visited years ago, and young William Turner was finding his first experience at sea to be much harsher than the tales his father had told him. He had been horribly seasick at first, and the dark, dank cabin they had been given in the ship's hold had stifled his normal good spirits from the very beginning.
They had been thrown far off course by a savage storm, then becalmed, and the voyage had taken far longer than even his mother had ever thought possible. And now. . . .
He cut that thought off with another stifled sob, hearing the biting echoes of his grandmother's reproach even in the confines of this wretched cabin so many leagues away.
Willful, disobedient, untrustworthy! You know what happens to bad children, don't you, William?
He bit his lip, focusing on the familiar sounds of the water sluicing by the aged ship's sides, the creaking of the timbers and the sound of their single guttering lantern rubbing against the bulkhead with the ship's languid motion.
Their cabin was large, but only because it was normally used to transport goods, not people, rather than from any kindness on the part of the ship's master, his mother had told him. Still, he had memorized every inch of their temporary quarters in the endless months of their voyage; its contours, smells, and sounds as familiar to him as those of his old room, but even that was not a comfort to him now.
The boy rubbed his eyes, blinking back tears while he awaited his mother's return . . . and the dreadful confession he had to make to her.
Abruptly, his grandmother’s shrill voice seemed to echo in his skull like the harsh tones of the ship's damaged bell. Mark my words, boy, if you continue in your willful ways, the pirates will come to take you, as they do all the bad children!
Putting his head back down on his knees in despair, the boy didn't see the unnatural fog that drifted down through the open hatch above - creeping gray tendrils that advanced like ethereal serpents toward their unsuspecting prey.
------------------
Sarah Turner hurried down a dark passageway toward their stifling cabin - a hastily walled-off section of the main hold, installed merely to give this merchant ship's greedy captain a few more shillings to add to his already bulging purse.
She grimaced, ignoring the half-hearted offers and propositions from some of the ship's sailors lounging about on the crewdeck as she passed through. She eeled herself through a gauntlet of outstretched, beckoning hands. She was not overly concerned about the men, having established much earlier in the voyage - with her utilitarian knife and fierce nature - that she and her young son were not to be trifled with, despite her delicate features and small size.
It was easier this time because most of the men were up on deck dealing with the unexpected appearance of a dense, almost impenetrable fog that had enveloped the ship earlier in the watch.
The crew generally were not a bad lot in any case, but sailors would be sailors, and she had more than a little experience in knowing how to handle them.
Well, at least at one time she had.
She pushed stray wisps of auburn hair out of suddenly misting eyes and despaired again of ever discovering what had happened to her Bill. He had told her he would come back, that he would always come back to her and their son, but as the time passed, she became more and more worried that this time, he would not return.
Climbing awkwardly down a ladder in her petticoats, she continued through yet another dark passage, dimmed even more by the blanket of fog that seemed to have invaded even the bowels of the ship.
If it had been in her nature, she would have damned the luck that had driven her to this current impasse, but she, as usual, bore everything with her innate, stoic calm. The death of the aged woman who had been her employer for all of Sarah's adult life had been a massive blow, since the suddenness of the matron's death had left her with no place to live, no job, no references, and no prospects for a penniless mother with a hungry mouth to feed.
She closed her eyes briefly in sadness. Hungrier than usual, she thought, despairing.
They had had little money for this voyage, and her spiteful mother had given up little to help them with their journey. The ship's captain had first refused to take them without his standard fare, but his ingrained greediness finally granted them passage when part of his expected cargo failed to arrive at the docks on time.
However, he had slyly included the caveat that she and her son would not be fed from his own ship's stores, since she regrettably did not have the entire fee. "You do understand, of course, ma'am."
In desperation, Sarah had reluctantly agreed, knowing that she and William could no longer stay with her escalatingly disagreeable mother. Sarah was not entirely certain why her mother had taken such a dislike to sweet William, but the old woman had transferred her implacable hatred of pirates and her abject disapproval of Sarah's relationship with Bill onto an innocent, impressionable young boy.
Sighing aloud, Sarah hurried down the passageway. The domestic situation had become intolerable all too soon, and she had traded almost all her remaining possessions for this last, desperate attempt to find her missing husband.
The gold medallion, however, she had left with William, knowing that the undoubtedly valuable piece was the last remaining link the boy had to his father.
She knew something of ships and ship's stores from Bill, of course, and she thought she had planned adequately for their needs during the length of the voyage. But what she had not planned on was the seemingly countless delays and mishaps that had plagued this blighted ship since their departure, and her meager stores had depleted far too soon.
Her rationing had become more and more stringent - she constantly had a gnawing ache in her belly now - but she hated even more the effects the deprivations were having on her young son. He had grown even slimmer than his usual trim build, and his face had become gaunt with hunger and stress.
Oh, she had been able to add a little to their stores. Some of the sailors had taken pity on them and smuggled them food from time to time, but the whole ship was on short rations now because of the longer-than-expected journey, and the entire crew knew they would face the volatile anger of their captain if he discovered their "gifts."
Her face brightened briefly as she approached the battered oak hatchway to their abode. Now, at least, she finally had some good news to impart to her son. When the only maid of a haughty minor noblewoman had suddenly taken ill, Sarah had volunteered her services in return for rations of food. Distressed by the prospect of the interminable voyage being made harder by the necessity of caring for her own hair and cabin, the noblewoman had reluctantly agreed.
Sarah sighed again. And not a moment too soon!
Neither she nor her son had eaten in two days, the very last of their stores stashed away untouched in Bill's old sea chest for fear that there would be no more food until they reached Port Royal. She couldn't wait to see her young son's eyes light up when she told him they could finally eat the last of the weevily bread and salted pork. It would surely seem like a feast to him!
She found herself humming the lively tune that her Bill had always seemed to be singing when young William was abed and unable to hear. Oh, how her mother had despised that song!
But Sarah was in love with a pirate, had married a pirate, and maybe, someday, the pirate's life would be hers, as well.
_____________________