Legends of the Treasure Child

The storm seemed to be unending, and the waves were rocking the Flying Dutchman around like a tiny splinter of wood. Will stood at the wheel, cursing lowly as he struggled to keep a straight course, for he saw lights far beyond, every time the sea crests would die down for a moment, just to be picked up by another whip of the winds, blurring the lights, blocking Will’s line of sight. In his mind he imagined pretty Elisabeth standing out there somewhere, like a mermaid in the angry waters, resting on a small island, holding an oil lamp up for him to see, to guide him to her arms.
“Soon, Elisabeth, soon” Will muttered to himself, clenching his teeth as another icy cold wave poured over the deck, soaking his already drenched skin. Yes there was cold, he felt it vaguely, but like ice cubes packed into a thick cloth and then pressed against his body. That was all. He knew the water should have frozen him stiff, knew he should be exhausted from having stood behind the wheels for hours now, battling the now black waves. For Calypso was getting angrier, her blues obviously meant to last all night, and the sky had gone dark and night had fallen, leaving the earth and those with out light at sea in pitch black. Yet William felt fine, just a little cold and a little wet and not tired at all. He was used to his unnatural state now, and whenever his thoughts turned gloomy and he began to think about all of the what ifs and things that could have been, he turned his attention inward and back to the memories of the beach, the final union between him and Elisabeth. The final bond that sealed their marriage. The memories always made him smile and lightened his mood.
He was actually very glad to have Jack here, together with his strange and mysterious son, and it was relieving to have that awkward situation onboard for it took his mind off Elisabeth. He needed to make time pass. And Will was really concerned for Jack, for Jack had been through matters which had radically changed his perspective on things. And this time Jack was in way over his head, seemingly unable to pick himself back upon his feet. It wasn’t like Jack to give up like this, just hiding out, withering away on board a dead man’s ship.
Oh, there he went again with the ‘dead man’ thingy. Will shook his head, wiping salty water away from his forehead. Two and half years now, remember that Will Turner, and you won’t be a dead man again. Hopefully.

Will was caught by surprise as Jack clutched his right shoulder, steadying himself against he brutal wind, dragging himself up to stand next to Will by the rudder.

“I sure don’t envy yer job tonight, Captain Turner!” Jack shouted to him.

“You should stay inside! You’ll freeze to death out here!”

“Aye I’ll go inside in a minute. Listen, Will, John and I have come up with a plan against Teague, but I, I mean, *we* need to share it with ye and Bill!”

“Aye, but we’re coming up on another wreck. Business first, Jack!”

“Aye!” Jack shouted back in reply, bracing himself as another giant wave came crashing upon the deck “Ah buggery hell! That was bloody freezin’! I’m out of here, mate!”

“Aye, get inside, Jack. We’ll talk later!” Will shouted, watching after Jack to make sure he made it back to the cabin. There were but a few passengers on the Dutchman now. Two pirates Will had never seen before, Father Irons, some poor fishermen who’d drowned during the storm, and one dog.

Will remembered the day the dog had simply leapt up from the beneath the surface, and like then, half of its flesh and fur was gone, eaten away by scavenging fish at the bottom of the ocean. It wore a collar with the name ‘Crabs’ on it. Its face was intact although its eyes were gone. Despite its handicaps as an undead dog, it would wriggle its fleshless, bony tail and bark excitedly whenever Will talked to it, managing to make quite the connection, finding company in the rather macabre dog. Will had found himself playing fetch with the dog, once, and in the process he remembered what it was like to smile.
At the moment, Crabs had hid himself in a small alcove beneath the wheel, at Will’s feet, whining and barking, not enjoying the ride at all. Crabs had been like a walking wrath in the start when he first jumped on board, baring teeth at every one. Then he’d remembered how it was to be a dog in stead of being a carcass on the bottom of the ocean.

Father Irons had come up on deck as well, clinging to the railing. He managed to move up to William, and shouted: “What is it with these Sparrows? First they tell me they have a plan, and when I ask of them to fill me in on it, they say they have to sleep on it. That John boy all of the sudden felt tired and went to bed, just like that, tearing off his clothes before my very eyes! An incubus for sure! Tempting me, inviting me with his wicked golden eyes!”

“Aye, John really is some piece of work. Now, one thing you should know about Sparrows in general.”

“What?!”

“If they say they have a plan, it means they’ll basically improvise as they go along. It’s usually a combination of going on a usual fool’s errand mixed with an unusual portion of good old fashioned luck. And if they say they’re going to deal with the situation, it usually means they’ll ignore it all together. A Sparrow in a nutshell, Father Irons! The worst part of it is that it usually works!”

“It’s strange you should be saying that, for John said exactly the opposite. That he was going to ignore it until the problem, hence captain Teague, arrived, and then settle it all in an orderly and non-violent Christian fashion! That’s what we agreed on. He said he would prove his worth to the cross!”

“Goodness! Sounds like the Sparrows are evolving! Let’s hope it doesn’t happen too often!”

“I think I’m going to be sick! The waves are killing me!”

“Father Irons, you forget you’re dead!”

“Oh yes. That’s right, I died. Difficult to get into one’s head, that death thing!”

“Speak for yourself , Father Irons.”

John was seemingly asleep, and Jack rid himself of his clothes once he got back inside. He did it silently, hanging them to dry on a long table on the other side of the dimly lit room. He turned to cast a glance at John to see if the boy was still asleep, and then turned back to rummage around for a fresh pair of pants in the sense that they weren’t wet. He then removed his bandana, unfolding it so it could dry up also. He turned towards John again, who’d fallen asleep in the middle of his bed, and Jack decided to fall asleep in a chair, however uncomfortable it might be. Then he thought the better of it, and tip-toed over to John’s to see if he could pry a bedspread away without waking him. Not knowing what to expect from John, Jack would rather have avoided the issue of having a demon son all together, staying outside on deck, but given the current weather conditions and the fact that he also felt tired, he stayed. Forgetting his scheming in the minute he closed his fingers around the bedspread, he lay down instead, resting his head. Then he rose to sit and leaned over John to study him in his sleep. The silky brown, slightly curled hair lay cascading out on the pillow, and Jack could see his eyelids move in dreaming, his thick dark lashes like dark fans brushing over the pale skin beneath his eyes. His right hand was resting against his temple, and Jack was left to study the fingers, the grey and probably razor-sharp nails, if the boy was anything like his demon father. His long, slender fingers twitched a little, and he’d tucked one end of the bedspread beneath his chin, nuzzling against it like he’d had when he was an infant. Jack sighed. If John were to try anything, then Jack would be helpless, for he truly loved the whelp, no matter how scary he seemed when he was awake.
Jack lay down silently again, studying the brown mane of his son, counting hair straws until his eyes became heavy to keep open. His mind swam with images from the day, and in his dream he was immersed in water, fighting to keep his head above the surface. John was no where in sight, and above circled the demon, its manhood erect and ready to have him. A splashing noise caught his attention. Jack turned his head in the water to come face to face with his father, who was swimming rapidly against him, biting on a golden chain. Jack panicked by the sight, tried to swim, but his arms were so heavy, so immensely heavy and something seemed to be dragging him under. No matter what he struggled; he couldn’t get off the spot, with his father approaching rapidly. Something tugged at his foot, and he took a deep breath, ducking under as the Thyrion came screeching in a flying dive but just missed. The surface and the blue sky vanished above Jack, and he looked down to find John holding on to his leg, dragging him towards the bottom. John’s legs were replaced with an enormous and elegant golden fishtail which sparkled and gleamed in the pearly blue, and Jack was thrilled to see him. In the darkness of the bottom of the ocean, John showed him a treasure chest which he opened. It was stacked with coins, gold and jewels. But Jack couldn’t reach it, for he was beginning to run out of air. He ventured upwards, trying to reach the surface, but John pulled him back down. Void of air in his lungs, Jack fell to the bottom, landing on a sandy dune. To his surprise, John had picked up the gold from the chest and was heaping it on Jack so he couldn’t get up. And as he felt the first death throes, choking on the water filling up his lungs, the last he saw was the blue sky far above and the blurry image of the Thyrion circling, looking for him.