Apprentice To The Sorcerer

This is a story that is not completed. I will finish it eventually. You might have seen it around the net in various places. To the wonderful ladies who went to all the trouble to read and review on the J/E list, thank you again for all your help and support.

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Flashback

I snapped the compass shut. Useless. Useless unless the needle could point straight down. And it couldn’t.

“Elizabeth?”

I couldn’t turn my head to look the owner of that voice in the eye. I felt wretched, lower than the lowest worm. No definition existed for a woman of my character. How many men could I betray in one lifetime? I counted them.

First, my father. I knew he’d never counted on losing me. Even had he succeeded in arranging a good marriage for me, he needed not lose me. He thought my match with Norrington a good one. The good commodore would never have kept me away from my only family in the world. But I betrayed both of them nearly at once. How could I have settled for loving anyone but my poor blacksmith, Will Turner?

And I did love Will. I loved him with purity. I loved him with all the ideals of childish naivety. The problem lay in the fact that I’d grown up. I’d had a taste of life outside the realm of my upbringing, a taste of freedom. I didn’t have to become a wife and mother. I didn’t have to be a commodore’s wife, a blacksmith’s wife, or anyone’s wife. No one had ever told me this except the third man I’d betrayed, and even he had proposed to me. At least when he’d proposed he hadn’t made any illusion as to love or family.

I would give anything to hear that pirate’s lewd suggestions again. I’d almost give my soul to have not been the one to…

I told him I wasn’t sorry, but I lied. He said I was a pirate. He told the truth. Each of our predictions came true in the end. Some unseen god, listening, must have made it so. Perhaps we tempted fate, slinging such claims on the open sea, throwing our sense to the capricious wind…

“Elizabeth?”

I had to look at him. I hadn’t the strength to change our dynamic anymore than it had already. I knew he’d seen me kiss Jack; the challenge of cautious anger in his eyes made that clear. He hadn’t directly approached me after hitting land either, as if afraid of what I might say if he used his courage to confront me. He preferred to remain silent, waiting for me to approach him. He’d always done so.

“What is it, Will?” I asked, weary to the bone. Still, I didn’t really look at him.

“You have to eat something. We have a long trip ahead of us and we’ll be eating the ship’s stores. Take advantage of fresh water and food.”

At this I did finally meet his eyes. “I’m not hungry,” I said.

“It isn’t your fault,” Will answered gently. “We’ll find Jack.”

“We have to try,” I said, miming everyone else who wanted to discuss our upcoming voyage to the ends of the Earth.

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I blinked the haze away, my fingers tightening on the scrub brush. Only my second day back on the ship and already my hands were sore. My last voyage on a merchant ship saw to the education of my skin, certainly. My father would have felt nothing but horror over my tanned arms and calloused hands.

My muscles rolled as I swept the brush over the planks. The motions of cleaning tended to mesmerize me, slipping my mind into the past or making it calm to nearly nothing. I welcomed acquiring a dull edge these days. I appreciated reducing my worries to the most basic.

Foremost worry, get the deck cleaned by two o’clock. Lattermost worry, would we make it to Port Royal. Avoided worry, would I run into Will, father, or James? But they would not recognize me. Not even Will, who had seen me in my masculine guise, would recognize me. I was dark skinned, light haired, and bound so tightly about the breasts I could barely withstand it. I walked like a sailor. I spoke like a sailor, spat like a sailor, and drank like a sailor.

That is what happens when you run off to the sea.

I told them all in a single letter what I meant to do. Being a great lover of words didn’t help me compose the farewell missive. I had too much I wanted to say and yet I had not the strength to defend myself. Better to write a paragraph to each man and let them curse me when I’d gone far away.

Will’s paragraph had had been the hardest to write. I didn’t know what to tell the man I thought I’d loved. How could I explain that remoteness I felt in him even during our best times together? He tried his best to anticipate me, and his intuition seemed very reliable, but he still fell short. He didn’t understand me. He worshipped me. When you worship someone you don’t have to reach out to them like a human being.

I knew that truth very well because I’d worshipped a pirate, once upon a time. But my idol had feet of clay.

I felt my heart squeeze at the thought of Jack. He hadn’t looked at me once…

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Flashback


“Bless my rotten old soul, he’s alive!” Mr. Gibbs shouted. The men on deck caught up the sound, magnifying it. Their captain lived! Not even the kraken could kill Captain Jack Sparrow.

I looked into Jack’s cold, smiling eyes. He didn’t see me. He didn’t see anything. His eyes moved yet lingered on no one. Gibbs bundled him up, took him to his cabin.

Jack remained in his cabin.

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A cramp seized my hand. I let go of the brush and took the polishing stone in hand. The others were nearly done. I had to hurry if I didn’t want a reprimand.

We all went to other tasks after cleaning the deck. I wandered back down to the fo'c's'le, picking gritty grains of sandstone out from under my short nails as I walked. After three years at sea I felt rather accustomed to irregular bathing, but I longed for a real bath today. We hadn’t time in port to pursue individual pursuits, just load up the cargo and stock provisions. Usually, I went off in search of a bath house while the rest of the crew went whoring and drinking. They all thought I had particular women to visit and so never questioned me.

Merchant sailors were certainly different from their pirate kinfolk. While they were every bit as superstitious, they were nowhere near as unified. A pirate crew would have made note of me slipping off every single time we came into port, only joining the drinking much later when everyone else had their heads truly in their cups. I would have been followed at the very least. These sailors cared about nothing but pay and their next shore leave. Pirates lived mainly on the sea.

Captain Norwood nodded to me as we passed each other. I deferred to him instantly, keeping my head down. He hardly ever came far below the main deck. No doubt he’d been checking his precious cargo. We carried six criminals bound for Barbados’ cane fields, enemies of the crown. I brought them their rations each morning, staying well away from the bars. I questioned keeping the spices, silks, and tea anywhere near these felons.

One of them didn’t seem to quite fit in with the others. For one thing he spoke very well, obviously possessed a higher education than his companions. For another, he seemed like a man betrayed instead of a man condemned. I glanced at him as I walked by. He met my eyes boldly. “My name is Peter,” he said suddenly, halting me in my steps. “What is yours?”

“Lei,” I reply suspiciously.

“Well, Lei,” the blond man said with a smile. “Do you think I might be allowed to look at Stebbins over there?” He pointed to a man who lay on his side near the far corner. “He’s had a few hard blows to the head.”

“Are you a physician?” I ask dumbly.

“I used to be,” Peter replied softly. “Would you please let me tend to Stebbins?”

“I’ll have to ask Captain Norwood,” I reply. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ve already asked him,” Peter sighed. “Wait. Could you examine him for me?”

“Me?” I take an involuntary step backward. “I am not trained to medicine.”

“You’re young enough to make a career of it yet,” Peter answered, sitting up straighter. “Ship’s surgeons make better money than common sailors you know.” He reached a dirty hand out to me, his eyes darkening. “Please, lad, do this. I swear the other men and I will not make a move to harm you.”

I glanced at the other four, alert occupants of the cell. Their restless eyes told me the truth of the matter. I would no sooner step inside than be overwhelmed. I turned back to Peter. “I’ll look at Stebbins for you only if you and the others are chained and I have an escort.”

Peter sighed again. “Very well. Please try to hurry.”

I found the captain at the helm, rubbing his compass needle with a piece of lodestone. He glanced at me. Seeing I did not intend to merely pass him, he stood at full attention to me and fixed me with his green eyes. “Something you wish to discuss, Trapezia?”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “One of the prisoners would like to examine another.”

Norwood rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’ve already spoken with Dr. Blood. I denied his request.”

I swallowed back the urge to leave it at that. I didn’t like to call attention to myself but the more I thought about it the more I wanted to do as Peter Blood asked. Medicine was a handy skill at sea, bound to give me status. “So he is a doctor, then?” I asked the captain quietly. “Perhaps he could direct me. I would like to learn how to patch people up.”

“You want to be a doctor?” Norwood raised his eyebrows. “You want a convict to teach you medicine?”

“I would prefer to be taught by someone else, sir,” I said carefully. “But I am at sea and I intend to remain at sea. Perhaps it would not hurt to gain the experience?”

Norwood’s thoughtful eyes lingered on his compass a moment. “You came from an educated family, Trapezia, did you not?”

“My father was a scholar,” I fabricated. “My mother loved the classics.”

“And here you are, out at sea, scrubbing decks and climbing rigging,” he mused. “And you wish to help one of our prisoners estimate the damage to another simply to gain medical experience.” He smiled at the weathered boards at his feet. “I’ve even seen you reading. Do you know you’re the only man on board that can read aside from myself and the quartermaster?”

“I hadn’t paid attention, sir,” I said.

“How old are you, boy?” Norwood looked up at me suddenly. “You can’t be over twenty.”

“I’m twenty two,” I defended, allowing some of my heat to reach my voice.

Norwood sneered at me. “You might do well to enter medicine and leave the sea behind,” he said conversationally. “You’re capable enough, and fast, I’ll grant you, but you don’t have the build for a life at sea. You’re scrawny. You’re as scrawny now as the day I took you on in Port Royal nearly three years ago. I’m amazed you haven’t been blown overboard.”

I swelled up. Biting my tongue, I looked to the side. “Yes, sir,” I answered lowly.

Silence stretched between us. I remained rigid, waiting for my dismissal.

“Go on, do what you want with them,” Norwood said abruptly. “Take Carstairs with you and slap a brace of pistols on him. Don’t get too close and don’t be afraid to kill anyone should they cause trouble. I don’t have to bring them to Barbados alive.”

I nodded, walked away hurriedly. Norwood’s oily demeanor always passed over me like an ill wind. He enjoyed punishing minor infractions with cruelty and never had a kind word for anyone. Even a ship so full with riches as to drag the load line couldn’t cheer him up.

Carstairs went with me grudgingly. I told him of my mission, prompting him to snicker at me. “Even if the bastard makes it to the island, he’ll die inside a week,” he said. “All he gots waitin fer ‘im is toil under the sun and a lash on ‘is back.”

“He’s practice,” I respond coldly, attempting the same sort of merciless mien.

“Aye, that ‘e is,” Carstairs agreed. “You really want to be a doctor?”

“I won’t know unless I see what its like,” I tossed back. I felt nervous over what I was about to do, but in a good way.

“I can see that,” Carstairs said gruffly. “But yer a good enough shipman. What makes you want to play around with leeches and powders?”

“Good money in it,” I answer, growing tired of the conversation. “I have a family to support.”

“You?” Carstairs guffawed.

“I do have parents,” I said sternly.

“Oh, yes,” he said swiftly, suppressing a gap-toothed grin.