In the Hollow of the Heart

Chapter 3 - A Past Revisted

Six years since Will Turner disappeared in a green flash on the horizon...

As soon as the shopkeeper’s door closed behind her, Elizabeth wrapped her arms tightly around her parcels and scurried back through the foggy darkness towards the rooming house. As lovely as it was to call the Caribbean home, she didn’t relish its short December days. It wasn’t the fact that night fell so early that worried her, but rather that as of late, Bridgeport after sunset had become a dangerous place.

A new bordello that had opened on the outskirts attracted an unsavoury element to the town, one whose activities weren’t always kept contained within the walls of the seedy establishment. Derelict ships now dotted the harbour, and crewmen flooded ashore to lose themselves in their cups and slake long suppressed lusts. Had they been satisfied with simply availing themselves of the services rendered at the whorehouse, the residents of the little port town would likely have been content to turn a blind eye to their conduct. Any commerce was welcome by the local merchants, especially since the sugar trade had largely moved elsewhere. But a growing number of ugly incidents – robberies, beatings and public lewdness – had set everyone on edge, and this was doubly true for Bridgeport’s womenfolk.

Elizabeth had a small stiletto tucked into her garter, but it would likely do her little good against a truly determined attacker. More lethal weapons would have been preferable but respectable ladies did not traipse about town carrying a sword and pistol, and she had a reputation to maintain. To her great dismay, that necessity made her nearly as vulnerable as any other female finding herself alone when darkness blanketed the island.

The gaslights cast a spectral glow through the mist and her footsteps sounded hushed as she hurried along, glancing warily at the shadow-filled alleys for signs of movement. It had been foolish to linger so long at the store, but she had found a set of tiny toy soldiers she wanted to buy for William and it had taken some time to haggle with the merchant for what she considered to be a fair price. The Turner household didn’t have a great deal of money for extras but she had been determined to provide her five-year old son with some small gift to celebrate the season.

When at last she turned the corner and caught sight of her house’s dim outline at the end of the street, Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief and slowed her pace. Hopefully, the Royal Navy would deign to establish a stronger presence in the West Indies sooner than later, and the town would be saved from descending into the same debauched state as Tortuga. She didn’t relish the idea of uprooting her son and starting all over again, although if the state of the town continued to decline, it might prove necessary in the end. They only had to endure for a little over four more years and then she, Will and their son could seek their fortunes in more civilized surroundings.

She was only a few houses away from her own when she heard a noise from the alley, a sharp cry of alarm that was swiftly muffled. Elizabeth stopped in her tracks, holding her breath and listening carefully. All was silent and she wondered if in the midst of all the uneasiness, she hadn’t just imagined the sound in the first place.

She was just about to walk on when it came again, a whimper followed by a frantic scuffling against the cobblestones. Swiftly ducking into the shadows of the surrounding buildings, Elizabeth crouched low to lay her packages on the ground and lifted her skirts to retrieve her knife. A jolt of fear made her pulse pound in her veins, but she forced the feeling back as she crept forward to peer through the gloom between the houses.

Elizabeth made out the figures of a man and woman grappling against the wall in a pale yellow shaft of light spilling from the crack in a doorway. Although she was putting up a valiant fight against her much larger male opponent, it was clear that the woman would not be able to hold him off for much longer. Her attacker had her pressed face-first against the bricks, clamping a large hand tightly over her mouth as he tore at her clothes.

“Think yer too good fer the likes of me, do ye?” he growled, jerking the woman’s head back as she struggled beneath his body. “Walk right past me with yer pretty nose in the air and without so much as returnin’ my greetin’…no manners at all! When I’m done with ye, might be ye’ll not think yerself so high and mighty!”

The woman’s cry of protest was cut short as he slammed her face roughly against the wall, dazing her enough that she slumped in his grasp. Keeping her pinned in place with his shoulder, the ruffian pulled out a dagger and slashed his victim’s skirts until her undergarments were exposed, tearing at the fabric with brutal haste. Caught up in the need to satisfy his animalistic urges, he was unaware of Elizabeth’s stealthy approach until the razor-sharp edge of her blade was pressed against his neck.

“She is too good for you,” Elizabeth hissed at him, pulling back on his greasy black hair until his throat was fully exposed. The scent of rancid sweat and putrid filth surrounded him, almost causing her to gag. “Then again, I can’t think of anyone else who couldn’t claim the same, you despicable pig.”

He stiffened and his eyes went wide as he tried to catch a glimpse of his assailant, but she kept him from turning by positioning the blade against a throbbing vein in his neck. Unexpectedly, he chuckled.

“Ye’ll just have to wait yer turn, lovie,” he said with a sly grin, his own gleaming weapon still held tight in his hand. “Been at sea an awful long time, so there’s more than enough fer both of ye.”

“Drop…your…knife,” Elizabeth snarled, sinking the blade deeply enough into his hide that a drop of blood welled and trickled down over his dirt-encrusted skin. “I’ll not tell you again.”

“Or you’ll what?” he laughed unpleasantly, the stench of his rotting teeth filling the small space between them.

The woman he had crushed against the wall seemed to suddenly regain her senses at the sound of his voice and writhed wildly against him, elbowing him with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs and relax his hold on her. She twisted away from him and fell awkwardly to the ground, scooting backwards out of his reach before starting to screech hysterically.

“Run!” Elizabeth hollered at her as the brute pulled free and lunged towards the woman, heedless of the weapon opening a long, red gash on the side of his neck. “Get a constable! GO!”

The terrified woman staggered to her feet and ran, the tatters of of her ruined dress flapping behind her as she flew from the alleyway into the street, the echoes of her screams rising up through the cold night air as she disappeared into the darkness.

Rather than give chase, the haggard pirate whirled around and advanced on Elizabeth, thinking her an easier target. “Ye think that wee bit of steel’s gonna save ye, whore?” he roared. “Ye’ve cost me an evenins’ entertainment and so perhaps ye’ll be taking her place. I’ll have ye well used and yer throat cut long before help arrives! Should have minded yer own business…ye made yer last mistake!” He pulled a broadsword from his scabbard, pointing it menacingly in her direction.

Elizabeth braced herself and held her stiletto at the ready as he stalked towards her. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest and she swallowed hard against the lump that had grown in her throat. The best she could hope for would be to get past his guard and take him at close quarters. With the length of his sword, though, he’d likely have her incapacitated long before he was within striking distance of her small knife. She backed away from him cautiously, determined to keep him at bay for as long as possible and buy herself whatever time she could.

“What’s the matter?” he taunted, waving the heavy blade slowly from side to side as blood trickled from the wound in his neck. “No more clever, cuttin’ remarks, I guess. Not so brave on that end of my sword, now, are ye?”

“A great deal braver than ye,” came a familiar, gravely voice, and Elizabeth gasped in relieved surprise as Hector Barbossa stepped into the alleyway from behind her. “Attemptin’ to have yer way with an unwillin’ woman – that be an especially vile act of cowardice. Almost as low as attackin’ a woman with naught but a knife to defend herself.”

“I wasn’t expecting you for another week,” she said, keeping an eye on her suddenly confused and concerned adversary. She dared a quick smile at the captain and received one in return.

“Caught a good tailwind comin’ outta Cuba,” Barbossa replied with a shrug, casually drawing his cutlass from its scabbard. “Seems to have worked to yer advantage, Missus Turner.”

The other pirate narrowed his eyes in disgust. “Not like you to meddle a fight that ain’t yers, Barbossa. The doxy started this…let her finish it, too.”

Hector smirked deviously. “By the powers, yer right.” He stepped closer to Elizabeth, exchanging the stiletto in her hand for his sword. “If ye knew who it was ye were challengin’, Thomas Anstis, ye’d have turned heel and run when first she appeared.”

For a moment, the man’s arrogance seemed to waver. “What are ye sayin’? That I ain’t capable of takin’ on a woman?” He eyed Elizabeth with scornful appraisal but obviously saw nothing to make him doubt a certain victory.

She wrapped her hand tightly around the grip, swinging the sword through the air in front of her a few times in order to test its weight. Satisfied that she could handle the extra heft of Barbossa’s weapon, she glared coldly at the would-be rapist.

“You have a choice,” she whispered menacingly, arranging her feet in an attack stance and pointing the cutlass towards him. “You can leave my town now and never return. Or… I can cut you into a thousand ribbons –starting with that offensive little stub between your legs – and leave you bleeding your life out on the cobblestones for the colonial constabulary to find. If you’re not dead by the time they arrive, they’ll be all too happy to hang you in the morning.”

Anstis barked in disbelief. “We’ll see who is left standin’ in the end, won’t we? Show me what yer made of, young miss!”

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s, ‘Your Majesty,’ if you don’t mind. Until another takes the crown, I remain the King of the Brethren Court. And I’ll be only too happy to show you how I earned my reputation.”

The man’s mouth gaped in dismayed astonishment. “The King? Yer Lizzie Swann? Naw, can’t be. Heard that she returned to England to wait on her husband!”

“Obviously, the rumours of my departure were premature to say the least,” she sniffed, taking a careful step and swatting at the tip of his sword. The clang of their blades rang through the alley. “Or perhaps Captain Barbossa is simply leading you down a garden path and I’m not who he says at all. Are you willing to bet your life on hearsay?”

Anstis glowered at her, battling indecision for a few moments before he let his blade dip towards the ground and retreated back towards the street. In the distance, Elizabeth could hear the pounding of boots on the pavement, rushing towards their location. The woman had obviously summoned assistance, God bless her. “I guess I’ll be leavin’, then,” he snapped contemptuously, sheathing his sword. “Even if I was to beat ye, I have a feelin’ that I’d be watchin’ fer the Black Pearl on me stern ever after.”

“Perhaps ye ain’t so stupid as I’ve heard tell,” Barbossa said calmly, his arms crossing over his chest and all vestiges of humour disappearing from his face. “Best ye let yer shipmates and any others ye come across know that the citizens of Bridgeport be well protected.”

Anstis’s lips formed a grim, pale line before he turned and slipped into the night. Elizabeth let out a heavy sigh of relief and sagged against the bricks, willing her pulse to slow to normal as his fleeing footsteps faded away.

“I’ll be askin’ for me cutlass back, Missus Turner,” Barbossa said, his hand outstretched to receive his weapon. “I think it wise that I make meself scarce b’fore the king’s constables rush to yer aid. One pirate seems very much like another when folks are in a panic; they’ll not take the time to discern between me an’ the enemy should I be caught sharin’ yer company. I’m not of a mind to swing by me neck fer the sake of a misunderstandin’.”

“I’ll see you back home, then?” she breathed, returning his sword before mussing hair and tugging a few buttons from her dress so it looked as though she’d engaged in a fight as well. If she appeared overwrought and teary enough when the constables arrived, it might just keep her reputation as a helpless female intact while gaining her a welcome escort home.

Hector winked and nodded at her before disappearing back into the shadows from whence he’d appeared.

*-*-*-*-*

Elizabeth gave profuse thanks to the young and eager lad who’d seen her home before soundly closing the door in his face to forestall further conversation. She rested her forehead against the heavy oak for a moment before wrapping William’s present in her cloak and concealing it within the elephant-foot umbrella stand by the coat rack. After everything she’d gone through to get the gift, she was determined that it would remain a surprise.

She pushed back her hair as she dragged herself into the sitting room and fell into her chair at the fireside. Rubbing at the back of her neck, she smiled ruefully and shook her head. Quite the way to spend an evening, she decided. She was lucky that it had ended on a good note; only a few years earlier, that might not have been the case.

“I think ye might have enjoyed that bit of a battle,” Hector said softly, approaching from the darkened doorway to the kitchen. He held a small glass of brandy out towards her.

“Perhaps a little,” Elizabeth muttered as she reached for it, alarmed to see her fingers were trembling slightly. She snatched her hand back, folding her fingers and clasping one hand within the other on her lap.

He frowned and placed the glass on the small table at her side. Kneeling before her, he took her hands in between both of his and rubbed gently at them. “Never seen ye come undone just by way of a fight before,” he commented, his brow furrowing and his blue eyes serious.

“I haven’t taken up a weapon for a long time,” she answered shyly, the warmth of his skin shocking her. In all the years he’d been coming to visit her and William, Barbossa had never laid a hand on her. Somehow to have him touch her with compassion was far more troubling than had he tried to do so out of desire. Elizabeth was used to fending off his harmless flirtations but having him comfort her in such a way moved her deeply.

He didn’t respond, seemingly content to hold her hands as the shaking gradually stopped. “Ye did yerself proud, lass,” he said, his thumb moving in small, light circles against the inside of her wrist. “But ye must know that I’d not have let ye come to any harm.”

His words, benevolent and protective, caused her heart swell in her chest. Although she knew he meant them only with kindness, they were sweet enough to make her throat feel tight. It wasn’t right for her to feel this way when a man other than her husband spoke to her…it wasn’t right that he should touch her so tenderly.

Slowly so as not to offend, she pulled her hands away and grabbed the stem of the glass he’d offered her. She tossed back the rich golden liquor so that it burned a path down her throat and warmed her belly. A bit of her courage restored, she jumped from her chair and strode over to the wall, yanking on the corded pull that rang in the bell in Sarah’s quarters. Hector gazed at Elizabeth thoughtfully for a moment before slowly rising and settling into the wingback chair he favoured.

Her cheeks were burning hot and she hoped that he hadn’t noticed how truly unnerved she was, the recent fight notwithstanding. “I’ll have Sarah draw you a bath…you certainly can’t slip into bed in that condition,” Elizabeth said loudly, shivering at the memory of his touch. How pathetic she was, nearly being turned inside out by such a very innocent gesture, and from Hector Barbossa at that! He’d laugh out loud if he knew of the reaction he’d elicited.

"'Course not,” he murmured, his eyes half closed as he stared at the orange fingers of flame licking at the stones within the hearth. “Wouldn’t mind summut to eat first, though, if ye’ve anythin’ in the larder. Been a few days without provisions and I’ll not be able to sleep on so empty a belly.”

“I’ll fix you a plate,” she answered brightly, glad of something to do that would necessitate leaving the room. Elizabeth hustled towards the kitchen but then stopped suddenly, daring to look back over her shoulder at him.

“Captain…Hector,” she said softly, waiting until he’d turned towards her. “I want…that is, thank you for what you did tonight. What you’ve done for both of us, too, William and I. I’m…I’m so glad you found us.”

His eyes widened briefly in surprise, but whether it was because she’d called him by his given name or because of her gratitude, she didn’t wait to find out. Elizabeth hurried away to await Sarah’s arrival and to prepare a meal fit for her saviour.

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