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The Sacking of Port Royal
by TortugaBlack

CHAPTER 12: Blacksmith or Pirate

Stepping back onto the main deck after returning the medical supplies to the quartermaster’s cabin, Elizabeth breathed in the invigorating and heady scent of the sea, turning her face to accept the incoming breeze’s gentle kiss. The day was waning and in the gathering twilight, she was suddenly aware of the absence of crew about her. A quick glance forward and she found them gathered tightly around their captain in the bow before the foremast. At Sparrow’s side stood his first mate and Will Turner. Having started in that direction, her steps faltered and she stopped. It was obviously a meeting of some importance for every member of the crew listened intently to what was being said. Captain Jack Sparrow stood before his men with confidence, his legs braced to the shifting restlessness of his ship. A moment, another, and the tight circle broke apart. What had been rapt attentiveness in the crew was now a stirred hive of activity.

Left alone amidst the orderly chaos, Gibbs and Turner stood locked in earnest conversation with Jack Sparrow. As Elizabeth watched, Gibbs laid a companionable hand on Will’s shoulder, leaned toward the young man, said something, then dropped his hand, and the three men laughed. A flurry of hand movements from the Pearl’s captain, now so familiar to Elizabeth, brought answering nods from the ship’s first mate and Turner alike.

Several members of the crew descended on her in a rush, momentarily blocking her view of the three and she hurriedly stepped aside to allow them access to the hatch. As they passed, the last, the old man she knew as Cotton, gave her a wink and a nod of apology as they shouldered past and hurried down the steps behind her. Staying clear of the hatch, she again hesitated, uncertain what to do…where to go. All around her members of the crew moved with the efficiency of a well-oiled piece of the equipment that made up Jack Sparrow’s buccaneer crew.

It didn’t take long to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Even as Elizabeth continued to shift positions along one railing or another in an attempt to stay out of the way of those rushing around her, she saw the evidence solidifying her fears. With building unease, she watched a crewman with a spyglass shinny up the mast to take his place in the crow’s nest and settle in for what she surmised would be a lengthy wait for he had taken a hooded lantern with him. Two other crewmen had taken up watches both fore and aft. Canvas covers were hurriedly pulled from the deck guns while the men who had gone below reappeared with kegs of powder and shot. She attempted once to stop Ana Maria to ask about the activities, but had been rudely brushed aside, the young quartermaster’s expression one of intense concentration, a woman with things to do and a lot on her mind. Elizabeth quickly backed away.

Forced from her place along the rail by busy crewmen, Elizabeth wandered aimlessly from one spot to another, her attention returning again and again to the three men standing fore. She stiffened with unease. There was a flintlock pistol in Will Turner’s hand. As he tested the heft of it, Jack Sparrow leaned close and pointed at something and Turner nodded. Again he hefted the pistol, sighted down the barrel, drew back the hammer, than eased it down. Lowering the weapon, he smiled and handed it back to Sparrow. The pistol disappeared into the pirate’s sash at his waist on the opposite side of his sword.

From behind her, she sensed moment. Turning she watched Ana Maria hurry from below followed by another crewman; both carried trays filled with what looked to be long strips of a salted meat of some kind, apples, and tankards. Elizabeth felt her stomach rumble in complaint of its emptiness and her mouth watered at the sight of the apples. The two crewmen moved without hesitation amidships and set the heavy trays down. Each took a tankard, an apple, and a strip or two of the meat and returned to their various duties. As she watched, other members of the crew, one by one, wandered over to the food trays, helped themselves, then immediately returned to their work; none took the time to sit or linger over their food nor did any look her way. Again her stomach growled at her inattention to its needs.

Pulling her attention reluctantly from the food, she again looked fore. Jack Sparrow stood with his back to her in easy conversation with his first mate, his hand resting comfortably on the hilt of his sheathed sword. Will Turner was no longer with them. Frantically, she scanned the deck of the Pearl to no avail.

“Elizabeth…”

Whirling at the sound of her name spoken by the man she had so frantically sought only moments before, the governor’s daughter smiled in relief. Breathlessly, she filled her soul with the beauty of his dark eyes, his mouth with that gentle smile she was so familiar with, and the soft lips she had tasted too few times. Suddenly, she ached with a hunger far greater and more urgent then her need for the food he held on a tray between them. “Will…”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Her eyes shifted to the tray. “Ah, food.” She reached frantically for an apple.

Allowing her to take the fruit from the tray, he turned away. “Come on, let’s find a place out of the way where we can eat.”

“That may prove difficult…” she murmured between bites, but followed obediently in his wake.

Leading her to a gun placement aft, Will pulled a powder keg from the stack behind the minion and set it aside for her. Turning back he claimed another for himself and a third for the tray. He waited for her to be seated then, with a grateful smile, took the keg across from her and reached for a tankard.

Looking with some hesitation at the remaining tankard, she cautiously picked it up.

“What is it?”

Reading her concern and reluctance to sample the beverage, Turner raised his in mocking salute and took a cautious sip. “Water.” He drank thirstily, watching as she did the same. Their eyes held over the rims as they slaked their thirst. Finished they set the tankards aside. Each reached for a strip of the salted meat and for a few moments they ate in silence.

With the first cautious bite, Elizabeth found the meat to be tough, salty, and surprisingly tasty; she took another bite, sucked on it until it released its juices, then chewed with relish before swallowing and taking another bite.

“I’m sorry, but this is all I could find below,” Will apologized, watching her eat with what appeared to be enjoyment. She could only nod her approval. Another bite or two, another drink from his tankard, and he pushed both aside and reached to his pocket.

Elizabeth paused in her eating and watched silently as he fingered a small gray stone. Dipping a couple of fingers into his tankard, he sprinkled several drops of water onto the stone. Sensing her eyes on him, he looked up.

“Will, are – are you all right?”

He frowned. “Yes, why do you ask?” He drew his sword, all the while watching her closely.

“The fight…” Elizabeth struggled for words to describe what she had so recently witnessed, finding none she lapsed into silence.

“It wasn’t a fight.” He sprinkled more drops of water onto the whetstone and, resting the blade of the weapon across the lid of the keg, ran it slowly down the edge of the blade with sure measured and precise strokes. “Just practice.”

The sound of the steel against the rough grain on the stone set her teeth on edge. “A misstep – a slip ­– either one of you could have been killed.” She had found her voice and there was a noticeable edge to it. It brought his head up from his task.

“We know each other’s moves, Elizabeth. I assure you neither of us were in any danger.” He returned his attention to the stone and again guided it along the blade’s edge, putting just enough pressure on the blade to apply the right fineness to the honing process.

“And this practice is in preparation for the attack on Port Royal?” she asked, watching him closely.

He looked up in surprise. “No, of course not.” He put the stone and sword aside. “I did not lie to you, Elizabeth. I will not raise a sword or pistol against Port Royal nor will Jack Sparrow or the crew of the Pearl.”

She motioned to the activities around them. “Yet preparations are being made for an engagement of some kind while the Pearl lies in hiding only three miles outside Port Royal. What am I to think? If not against Port Royal, then whom is it to be against?”

“Jack is a cautious man,” Will admitted with an easy smile. “He’s not one to be caught off guard. Until high tide and the Pearl can sail out of this cove without need of the sweeps, we’re vulnerable…”

Elizabeth unconsciously winced at the ‘we’ in his explanation. “That’s why the extra watches,” she surmised. “But the man in the crow’s nest has his glass trained toward sea, not toward Port Royal.”

He picked up the sword and stone and returned to the slow methodical sharpening of the fine weapon. “He’s watching for sails. Another ship is meeting us here.”

“A ship?” Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “From where?”

“Tortuga.” The stone made another slow trip down the blade.

“A pirate ship and crew.” She was no longer surprised and began to feel the heat of anger building, her hunger and the food before her momentarily forgotten. “This all reeks of another of Jack Sparrow’s mad plans and somehow it involves you. How?”

Will paused to touch a careful finger to the edge of the sword’s blade; he frowned, and went back to the stone, but the strokes were slower and the pressure greatly eased. “Jack has an accord with a Captain Hayes whereby he will capture a ship, captain, and crew to be turned over to Hayes in exchange for spoils taken from the ship as well as another that may accompany her.”

“And your part in these plans?” She watched him closely.

“As I said before, I am to distract the captain and keep him from his ship long enough to allow Jack to take ship and crew.”

Elizabeth reached for her tankard to wet lips that had suddenly gone dry. Taking a sip of the tepid water, she carefully organized her thoughts and her conclusions only increased both her suspicions and anger toward one Jack Sparrow. She allowed her eyes to wander to the sharp and very lethal blade he worked on with such loving care. “That’s a beautiful sword.”

He looked up in surprise at the change of subject, then smiled with pleasure and pride. Setting the whetstone aside, he laid the sword carefully across the powder keg where she could see it in its entirety.

She hesitantly reached a hand toward the glistening blade only to have it stayed by his. “Careful,” he cautioned, “it’s sharper than most.” He released her. Withdrawing her hand, she admired the graceful entwining crescent moons of the guard, the length of the hilt, the long, but delicate curve of the wide blade. She looked up to find him watching for her reaction. “It’s a cutlass.” Something akin to disappointment flickered for just a moment across his face, but was quickly masked. “I didn’t know you forged them, ” she finished, hoping to ease his disappointment.

“I’ve crafted a couple, ” he hedged. Dropping his attention back to the sword lying on the keg between them, he carefully lifted it. His hand fit perfectly in the guard and he aimed his attention down the length of the blade. “This one is special.” Lowering the weapon, he met her somber gaze. “This one I made…for my father.” Ducking his head in a show of uncertainty of her understanding, he quickly slid the blade into his belt and reached for the boarding axe.

“Your father?” Elizabeth was taken aback. Closing her eyes for a brief moment in apology for her insensitivity, she opened them again to find him watching her. “Your skill, your talent, of course you would have wanted to share them with him.” Her heart ached with the relief seen in his expression at her understanding.

“Yes,” he whispered, then as if to cover feelings still too raw to share, he picked up the whetstone and started in on the axe blade.

After another moment or two of silence, she ventured another careful question. “Will, how did Jack talk you into signing Articles with him?”

This time when he raised his head to meet her gaze, there was bitterness and hurt in his eyes she had not seen there before. “He didn’t talk me into it,” he denied. “He merely reminded me of how little I had to lose if I decided to join him.”

“And that’s why you came?” Her throat ached with the thought that he might not think their chances were any better than the rest of his options in Port Royal since their last adventure with Captain Jack Sparrow.

“No.” He set the axe aside and reached for her hands, enclosing them both in his. “I came because this plan of Jack’s is one that will not put me at odds with Norrington or the law, but will give me the opportunity to sail under the same command and aboard the same ship my father served.” His expression begged for her understanding. “I have to know what the Pearl…what Jack Sparrow…offered that was important enough to keep my father from his family…and for him to ultimately give up his life for both.”

“Sail, ho!”

At the unexpected shout from the watch stationed in the crow’s nest high above them, Will and Elizabeth jumped to their feet. Along with the rest of the deck crew, they drifted to the starboard rail to look seaward with anticipated interest.

“Where away, watch?” Sparrow called out.

“Broad on the starboard quarter, Cap’n. A sloop – two masts with double topsails, single topgallant, and royal – closin’ fast under full sail,” the watch sang out, the glass to his eye as he followed the ship. “She be shallow on the draft and flying no colors.”

“It’s the Rona.” Sparrow turned to his crew. “She has the wind and the tide in her favor. Make ready for company, ye sea dogs!” Sparrow turned to his first mate. “Mister Gibbs, take Mister Turner and accompany Ana Maria to the quartermaster’s cabin, she has the keys to the weapon chests. I want side arms distributed to every crewman. From here on we stand ready!”

“Aye, Captain!” Gibbs caught Will’s attention and nodded toward the hatch where Ana Maria was already heading below.

Will turned back to Elizabeth. “I’ve got to go. We’ll talk more later.” He leaned down and gently brushed her lips with his and hurried away. Silently she watched him disappear below. Around her the ship activity levels rose and the air seemed charged with danger.

“Miss Swann.”

Startled, Elizabeth pulled her attention from the open hatch and found herself face to face with Jack Sparrow. The pirate stood with his back to the activity, the incoming breeze playing through the dreadlocks that framed his face, the strings of beads braided in his hair dancing as if with a life of their own. As he stood before her, fully armed, sporting sword and flintlock, his expression was serious. His eyes held no hint of humor in their depths. With legs spread to the gentle rock of the deck, the man stood before her with the authority of his position as captain of a pirate galley and a man to be obeyed. A shiver coursed her spine.

“A pirate sloop will soon be dropping anchor and some of her crew boarding the Pearl. You are to go below…now.”

His look at once gave Elizabeth pause and the retort that had started to form on her lips was cautiously withheld; it was neither the time nor the place to speak her mind. She nodded, dropped her gaze in a hurried attempt to keep her anger from him and started past. A sun-darkened hand reached out and strong delicate fingers encircled her arm. Surprised at the contact, she looked up and met an expression of surprised awareness.

“Ahh,” he drawled. “Is there a problem between us, Miss Swann?” When she made no attempt to answer, he eyed her with a look of frustrated exasperation. “Do I have to wonder or can I boldly assume it deals once again with bloody Will?” His grip on her arm tightened. “This is not the time to deal with such matters, missy, and for now until I say otherwise, you will do as you’re told, when you’re told and on my orders.”

“So you can move ahead, unchallenged, with your plans to trade Will’s life for another ship!” she snapped. Brushing at the hand on her arm, Elizabeth attempted to step past him. The hand tightened and Sparrow moved closer, his body pinning her helplessly against the ship’s railing. Turning her face from his in frustrated anger, she felt his breath on her neck, his all too sensuous lips at her ear, but there was no humor in the words he spoke.

“You have a strong, independent nature, Elizabeth Swann. I like that in a woman…when she’s in my bed, not aboard a pirate brig under my command.” He put a hard, no nonsense edge to his next words. “You will not be putting my ship or my crew in danger, luv. Savvy?”

It was the tone of his voice, not the words forming the threat that chilled her blood and drew her eyes to his; what she saw in the dark orbs was an authority not to be questioned. He released her and stepped back. Her heart pounding, Elizabeth fled across the deck, lifted the hatch and stumbled below. Reaching the companionway she collided with a man standing at the foot of the stairs. “I’m sorry…”

“Elizabeth–”

“Will!” Sensing her distress, he opened his arms to her and quickly gathered her into a close embrace. Burying her face in the rough material of his jerkin, she allowed his strength to encircle her, felt the strong beating of his heart and drew comfort from the warmth of his body and the smell of him that had become as familiar to her as her own.

“What’s wrong? Did someone–” Anger touched his voice as his arms tightened, bringing her closer still. “What is it?”

She drew a long ragged breath and slowly let it out. Reluctantly she eased away from his closeness. “No…nothing’s wrong.”

Will Turner studied the features of the woman he loved and tried to read what had not been reflected in her words. “Tell me. Did Jack…?”

Angered at herself for allowing Jack Sparrow to frighten her and for her own weakness in making more of the incident than it had warranted; she slowly shook her head. “No, no, it’s nothing.” She pushed reluctantly away from him. “There – there’s a ship coming.”

Puzzled at her sudden change in demeanor, Will released her. “I heard the shout.”

“Jack sent me below to the quartermaster’s cabin…”

As if that was explanation enough, he nodded. “Come on I’ll see you there.” He took her arm and started down the companionway.

“Mister Turner.”

They both stopped and turned at the voice behind them. Jack Sparrow stood on the stairs. “I’ll be wanting you topside as soon as you see Miss Swann to her cabin.” His words were addressed to the young blacksmith, but Elizabeth read the unspoken warning in the dark eyes that had settled on her.

Will nodded.

One more glance in her direction and the pirate disappeared topside.

“Come on, I need to get up there before they come aboard.” Taking her arm, Will hurried her down the dark companionway.

“Why?” she asked in frustration, feeling tears of anger stinging the corners of her eyes. She brushed angrily at them. “Why must it always be you at his side?”

He opened the cabin door and held it open for her. Seeing the tears glistening in her dark eyes, Will took a gentle finger and touched them away. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth, but I can’t stay and explain. Not now. There will be time later.” He leaned and brushed her lips with his own. “I’ve got to get back to Jack.”

“What about me…” she whispered, but he had already turned and started back the way they had come.