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Challenge: Pirates
September 14, 2005

By Lorraine
September 14, 2005

~ No Pirate ~

Will repeated the pattern again. Slash to the right, parry low, parry high, step to the left, slash again and thrust. He checked to make sure his leg was well extended and his hips square with his weight centered properly. He held the lunge for a moment and then stood and began again. His concentrated efforts were wearing a shiny green path into the dusty lawn, he noted with some small pride. He was certain that if he worked diligently enough at this that he would become great. He stopped his endless practicing at the small, delicate cough emanating from the reclining figure on the shaded settee nearby. He blushed when he realized that she had put her book down and was staring at him. He wondered how long she had been watching. He took a step toward her and tripped over his discarded shoes. She giggled as he picked himself up.

"Listen to this, Will." Elizabeth picked the book up and began reading.

"She turned toward the pirate, her violet eyes shining far brighter than the jewels he had taken from her neck. The pirate leaned in, his ebony hair whipping in the wind, and kissed her delicately on her ruby lips before leaping to the rail and swinging back to his magnificent galleon. As he stood on the deck, his words floated back to her on a zephyr. 'My lady, you will remember this as the day you almost caught Captain Jack Sparrow.' Isn't that absolutely romantic? Wouldn't you just love to be that pirate?"

"No. He deserves a short drop and a sudden stop like all pirates."

"You've been spending far too much time with Lieutenant Norrington, Will. All you do is work and practice your sword." She was near to pouting, Will could see.

"I do not get my notions about pirates from the lieutenant, Miss Elizabeth. My views are my own in this matter." He could see she was upset when he said this, but he couldn't say otherwise, even to her. If he really told her the truth, she would be horrified, he thought. That he didn't care to see them hanged at all, that he'd rather kill each and every one himself, with his own hands and sword. Elizabeth would never understand that; to her they were still romantic and mysterious. She hadn't been there, hidden in a water cask, unable to move, to shout a warning, to do anything but watch the horror on deck as they raped the women, ripping apart their clothing and bodies, as they killed the men, beating them and torturing them for amusement while the women screamed and screamed for mercy. She hadn't smelled the awful reek of the burning bodies, the hair and charred flesh, and been too cowardly to stand up and die with them. He shook himself clear of the memory and realized that she was watching him, concern on her face. He wanted her to never feel what he was feeling, to always be laughing and carefree, and for all her pirates to be like the imaginary Captain Sparrow. In that moment, something changed in the way he looked at her.

"It's no matter, Miss Swann, I'm sure your Captain Sparrow is a good man." He returned to his practice.

When he looked back again, she was still looking at him and her eyes were brighter than the forge, brighter than the sun, even if they were brown and not violet.

He was no pirate, though. Slash, parry, parry, step, slash, lunge.

By Hereswith
September 16, 2005

~ Bone ~

Over the high seas they sailed, horizons behind them and ahead, and the moon at their backs. They ran before the wind and the wind passed right through them, through ribcages and tattered canvas, yet they moved with effortless ease, propelled by some unholy force and the wrath of olden gods.

They were pirates still, they pillaged and plundered, but death no longer followed them, they had breathed it in and they breathed it out; they were death embodied, their skulls gleaming white, their shadows falling long and skeletal, thin and spidery, across the deck. The ship, it was said, appeared out of nowhere, draped in veils of mist, and when the deed was done, when the blood had been spilled and the swag had been claimed, it vanished like a phantom into the dark.

It was the stuff of nightmares, scoffed at in the light of day by men of reason and learning, but for those who had the misfortune to come under the Black Pearl’s attack, the truth of the rumours was the last thing they knew. And the last thing they heard, as they teetered on the sword’s edge of life, was the tuneless click of bone.

By Honorat Selonnet
September 16, 2005

~ No Honor~

No heroes among thieves, he had accused Jack. No. Nor honour either. But was there any honour among respectable men? For he, Will Turner, had surely left Jack Sparrow to die among those bloodthirsty pirates in the caverns of Isla de Muerta.

Did it matter that Jack had planned to use him as leverage—to barter for the Black Pearl with the blood of Bootstrap Bill Turner’s son? Did that excuse Will’s own actions? He had betrayed a man. Struck him unconscious. Made no attempt to rescue him. Lied to the crew of the Interceptor. Sparrow had kept his promise, had taken Will to Elizabeth as he had sworn to do “on pain of death.” But death would not be Jack’s punishment for breaking his word; it would be his reward for keeping it.

“I thought you were a pirate,” Elizabeth had said. “That would have been terrible.” But he was a pirate—the son of a pirate with the broken honour of a pirate. “Pirate is in your blood, boy.” The words reverberated in his mind. “Pirate is in your blood.” Jack had been right.

By Geek Mama
September 17,, 2005

~ Act of Piracy ~

“You left me in charge of him,” Elizabeth told her father, and the lieutenant. “He needs me.”

Will flushed, but did not refute the assertion.

In the end, she was allowed to stay if she would agree to remain silent during the proceedings. She seated herself on the chair beside Will’s at the big table.

But as they questioned him, it was borne in upon her that Mr. Gibbs had been correct, and that she had been entirely wrong.

“I know it is difficult for you, Mr. Turner, but any information you can give us would be helpful.”

“They were pirates, sir,” Will said, unsteadily. “I saw their ship coming toward us, in the fog. The Lady Anne was becalmed, but the black ship… she just came on! Our captain had raised a flag of truce, but the pirates paid no heed to it. They fired upon us, but their aim… I don’t think they meant to do such damage. There was a fire, and then, almost before we realized how bad it was…” His voice trailed off and he sat staring blindly before him, remembering.

Elizabeth’s father said, “It’s a miracle you survived, my boy.”

Will nodded, and Elizabeth sensed what he was thinking: Why me, and not the others?

*

It was very late, but Miss Pettigrew had imbibed a paregoric draught in her ongoing struggle with mal de mer and was finally snoring peacefully, undisturbed by the lamp that still burned in the cabin. Elizabeth waited to be sure her governess was sound asleep, then set down her book and quietly retrieved the medallion from where she’d hidden it, in the bottom of her embroidery basket.

She looked at it closely in the lantern light, turning it, horrified anew at the death’s head and the arcane symbols, smoothing her fingers over the alluring, buttery gold.

It was real gold: she had bitten it, as John Coachman had shown her once, and sure enough there had been a faint mark left upon the edge.

Pirate gold.

And yet, it was now plain that Will Turner was no pirate.

She should give it back to him, and ask him how he had acquired such a thing.

But… not now.

Better to wait, until they reached their new home, and were away from the close confines of the Dauntless and her vast, inquisitive crew. Then she would tell Will what she’d done, and why, and he would answer her questions.

And she would give back the medallion.

One day soon.

Perhaps.

~.~

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