Ad Infinitum

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Chapter 13: Et hoc transibit

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The crowd at the Faithful Bride was as boisterous as ever, the bar three deep with drunken sailors, the tables equally occupied. Several musicians were playing a rousing jig in one corner, adding to the overall bedlam in the room. Jack elbowed his way towards the rear of the tavern, his path hampered by two men locked in a drunken brawl. Stepping nimbly over the tumbling pair, he managed to finally reach a quieter corner and slouched miserably onto an empty bench.

The Pearl was gone. Sunk. Crushing under the weight of tons after tons of water, all because, for once in his life, Jack decided to do something just out of the goodness of his heart.

“Some way to return a favor,” Jack groused to himself. “Try to help the bloody fool and what do I get for me efforts? A mutinous crew and a sunken ship.”

“Jack!” The voice of his quartermaster carried over the crowd, followed by Gibbs himself, a bottle of rum and two tankards in hand. “Thought I might find you here.”

“Bloody buggering blaggard sunk me ship,” Jack moaned. “Why? Tell me, why I shouldn’t just walk away and leave him and his precious fish bait to figure things out themselves?”

Gibbs slid onto the bench and handed Jack a mug. “Lad was just doin’ you a favor, Jack.” Taking a long swallow, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Don’t be too hard on ‘im. Man’s just lost his wife.”

“Favor? He sank me bloody ship!” Jack shouted, causing those nearby to glance over. Lowering his voice he added, “What sort of fuckin’ backward idea of a favor is that?”

“One that might get us out of Tortuga without trouble,” Will said quietly.

Jack looked up to find Will standing there with folded arms and a small smile on his face.

“Ah, speak of the Devil,” Jack leered, narrowing his eyes. ”And ‘s not funny by the way,” he muttered, looking away ostentatiously and taking a swallow of rum.

“I don’t see anyone laughing, Jack.” Will nodded towards a serving girl who set another mug and a bottle on the table. He sat opposite to Jack and added, “But time is of the essence, and this way you don’t have to worry about the Pearl.”

“No, because you bloody sunk her!” Jack snapped, again drawing attention from the crowd.

“Jack, I’ll raise her up again, once we find Elizabeth.” Will sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Have you found out where Ana keeps her boat?”

“On top of the water, I would imagine,” Jack bared a gold-rimmed grimace of a smile. “Like any normal person.”

“We’ll ask around the docks then,” Will said, sipping from his mug and ignoring Jack’s wolf-like appearance. “I don’t suppose there are many women who have their own boats in this town.”

“You do that, William.” Jack said, wriggling himself into a more comfortable position. “Let me know what you find out.”

Will shook his head. “No. We’ll do this, Jack.”

Jack leaned back, crossed his feet on the table with a sardonic smile plastered over his face, and raised his cup in a toast. “Here’s to you, Will Turner. Give me regards to the missus.”

Will studied Jack for a moment, then nodded as if coming to a final conclusion. “Fine. You don’t want the Pearl back?” He shrugged indifferently and made to leave. “I see our liaison has come to an end. Good evening, gentlemen.” And with that he turned on his heel and strode out of the tavern without another look back.

Unable to do more than stare after the man when the cold hand of ominousness grabbed him by the balls, Jack mouthed Will’s name weakly, then tried again louder. “Will! …Bloody hell! Will! Wait!”

Jack blinked and sat up, his feet crashing to the floor. Hastily donning his hat, he tossed a few coins on the table and scrambled after Will. Jack recognized that look on Will’s face. Not good. Not good at all.


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Will was leaning against a stack of crates when Jack caught up with him on the dock. Jack skittered to a stop and raised a finger, his mouth clearly still having difficulties working, since there weren't any words coming out, making Jack look much like a fish out of water. Chuckling, Will pushed himself upright and nodded his head towards a dinghy tied up to the dock.

“Thought you might want to see for yourself I was telling you the truth.”

Jack gaped, eyes wide, at the small vessel bobbing placidly alongside them. Finding his voice finally, he croaked, horrified, “That, Will, is a dinghy.”

“Obviously,” Will said dryly.

“You’ve turned me ship into a dinghy?” Jack’s expression was one of both dread and disbelief, his hands raising to his mouth in astonishment.

Laughing, Will steered Jack by the elbow towards the boat. “Jack, sometimes I wonder just how much you think I can do.” He stepped down into the boat and gestured for Jack to do the same. “I may be immortal, but even I can’t do transfiguration.”

“Yet,” Jack muttered suspiciously under his breath, but joined Will in the boat.

Shoving off, Will rowed them out towards the center of the bay, away from the lights of the shore. After glancing around to get his bearings, he set down the oars and allowed the boat to drift on the outgoing tide.


The night was dark, the moon not risen yet. They bobbed in the solitude of the bay, the lights of the town twinkling in the distance. Finally, after several more minutes had passed, Jack figured he’d been patient enough and broke the silence. Glancing around furtively, he whispered, “What are we doing?”

“Waiting.” Will whispered back.

“Waiting.”

“Yes.”

“For what?” Jack hissed, anxiousness getting the best of him.

Will smiled, the meagre light of their surroundings making his eyes glimmer. “You’ll see.” He then grew serious, and asked quietly in a solemn voice, “Jack, do you trust me?”

Jack fidgeted, and began to say something, then clammed up. A myriad of emotions passed over his face – hope, fear, frustration, yearning – before he finally mustered one word.

“Aye.”

Will smiled again, the lights returning to his gaze, and placed his hand on the water. Doing nothing else, he just nodded slightly towards Jack.

A low gurgling sound erupted from beneath then, becoming louder and louder as from the depths, the masts and yards of the Black Pearl pierced the smooth surface of the bay, followed by a whoosh as the ship resurfaced, spraying water down upon them, her wake heeling the small boat over, practically capsizing them. Then, as if a living creature, the ship shook and trembled, her sheets and sails shaking off the weight of water, showering them once again.

Jack’s mouth had dropped open and he now shut it slowly as he ran his hand along the black ship’s hull, caressing her wood as he gazed up in awe. “Thought the Dutchman were the only ship that knew that trick,” he gasped.

“The Pearl’s been raised before, Jack. More than once.” There was disappointment in Will’s tone. He breathed deep, and sighed resignedly. “I don’t understand why you even doubted me.”

Tearing his gaze away from the ship, Jack looked Will in the eyes and swallowed down the lump in his throat that had miraculously appeared along with Will’s words. He answered in a slightly trembling voice. “I guess I owe you an apology, Will.” He nodded his head towards the Pearl. “Best be putting her back t’ bed, aye?”

Will did nothing more than reflected Jack’s stare, and the ship slowly sank once again, leaving behind only an undulating ripple moving outwards towards the shore.

Halfway back to town, the uneasy silence that had fallen between the two was shattered by the cheerful sound of Jack.

“So, William, how do you do that?”


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“I’m tellin’ you it’s him!”

“And I’m tellin’ you yer a drunken fool. Ain’t no way it’s him.”

“That were the Captain of the Flying Dutchman, or my name ain’t Thomas McNeely.”

“And I’m the bloody King of England.” The man spat and added, “Legend says he can’t set foot on dry land but once every ten years. By my calculations, he’s got three more t’ go.”

Gibbs frowned as he listened to the men at the next table. He recognized several of Jack’s crew among them, including the Irishman McNeely.

“You ain’t no friggin’ king,” McNeely said, “But I knows for fact that man is Captain Turner. Had to sail with him didn’t I?”

“Since when have you been on the Dutchman?” The first man laughed and his companions joined in.

McNeely shook his head. “Weren’t the Dutchman. We was on the Black Pearl.”

“First the Dutchman, now the Pearl?” The others laughed even louder. “Been reading too many books, McNeely. You tellin’ us you sailed here on the Black Pearl with the Captain of the Flying Dutchman? Next thing you know, you’ll be saying you’re Lord Beckett himself, come t’ haunt us.”

McNeely stood, hands balled into fists. “I’m tellin’ you all it’s true. Ask the men here.”

“Well, if it is true, there’s a pretty price t’ be had for the whereabouts of the Black Pearl.”

“Is there now?” McNeely glanced around at his fellow crewmen. “Well, that puts a whole new twist to the capstan, don’t it?” Raising his glass, he smiled slyly and said, “Gents, I propose a toast!”

The men at the next table didn’t notice the Black Pearl’s quartermaster slip away, busy as they were toasting their hopefully soon to be wealth. Gibbs didn’t wait around to see what they’d do next. With a price on his head as well, he decided prudence was the right course to steer. Time to lay low. He hurried down towards the waterfront, hoping he’d be able to find Jack and Will and warn them in time.


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“Think he’ll come back?” Giselle stared forlornly out the shop window, chin resting on her palms.

Her friend Scarlett set down her sewing and sighed. “No telling. Jack hasn’t been himself lately.”

“Well, he’s been sick,” Giselle said, quick to defend. “Must be awful for him, having that, er, problem.”

Scarlett laughed. “I think there’s more to it then he’s letting on. He’s been acting strange ever since he returned.”

Giselle resumed her vigil of the street beyond the dress shop window. She was hoping Jack would have gotten over his “illness” by now, but it appeared he was still pining away. Whoever the lucky girl was, she certainly had Jack by the balls. He hadn’t said as much in words, but it was clear from his actions, or to put it plainly, lack of actions.

Rumor was he’d been in love with the pirate King, who’d recently been captured and sent to the gallows in Port Royal. If that were the case, then Jack must be grieving somewhat awful. Giselle smoothed out her skirts and smiled to herself. Jack would be needing a shoulder to cry on, and who better to ease his heartache than her?

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A/N: Thank you, you kind person, for rating :)