Chapter Four

**Know one false step is ne'er retrieved**

Will had plenty of opportunity to regret his enthusiasm for joining the Royal Navy, even, as it was, on a conditional enlistment. The officers "hazed" him mercilessly, starting on the first day. He stood double watches every day, was denied his rightful duff on the Sabbath, and was kept aloft in the riggings long after his task was completed. Once, before he learned properly how to cling to the halyards, the ship had pitched sharply from beneath him, sending him flying into the belly of a sail. Had he hit water and been unable to swim, it would have meant his death.

Though Will knew such treatment was common for new recruits, he couldn't help but think that the Commodore, who turned a blind eye to the events, was also encouraging them. The Commodore had been with the helmsman when Will had been thrown from the rigging. Will's knowledge of the helm was sparse, but he hadn't forgotten how easily Jack Sparrow had swept him from the Interceptor with the boom.

But heavy work and long hours were nothing new to Will, and if Norrington was exercising his supremacy at sea by getting his own back at the man who had taken his intended wife and engineered the embarrassing escape from the gallows of the notorious, and now even more clearly, villainous, pirate, Will couldn't entirely blame him. And Will, unlike most of his fellows, could swim, after all. He even welcomed the double watches, for he was spared spending many waking hours below. The hold stank and the pitching of the ship tended to make him queasy, even after he acquired his "sea legs." And on deck was where everything happened. He found sailing exhilarating, and he was learning fast.

Commodore Norrington had not spoken to him since they had got under weigh, so it was from the second mate, Will's watch commander, that Will learned where they were bound. They were to rendezvous with the H.M.S. Tarantula, captained by the famous Mortimer Stanley, the "pirate-killer." Stanley and his crew had captured or sunk no fewer than three notorious pirate crews, and his most famous prize had been Captain Jack Rackham, the scourge of the Bahamas, whose desiccated corpse now hung above the harbor in Nassau.

Not surprisingly, Will was on deck when the Tarantula was sighted. Will watched, fascinated, as the two Naval vessels paced through the ceremonious hailing, acknowledgements, and formal identifications. Tarantula slid adeptly alongside the Deadly Earnest, and the chief mate of the Tarantula called over a request for his captain to come aboard. Permission was granted, and, somewhat to Will's surprise, he was summoned to attend the Commodore in the captain's cabin. He went below to change his clothes.

Stepping into the captain's cabin felt like entering a forgotten world. While the furnishings were, of necessity, simple, and largely unadorned, the room felt opulent to Will. He'd barely been at sea two weeks, but it already seemed that nothing existed but the working deck of the ship, the endless sea, and the stinking steerage where Will slept amid the coils of ropes and sails. Here was a room with a canopied bed, a table, upholstered chairs, and even a solid roll-top desk. A window sported rich curtains, and a simple cross hung on the wall over the desk. Unaccountably, Will had to fight back a sharp pang of missing Elizabeth.

Standing around the table, looking very regal in crisp red uniforms, were Commodore Norrington, Captain Gillette, and a second captain. This man, Captain "Pirate-Killer" Stanley, was of middle-height, with a thin, hawkish face, and glittering blue eyes. Only Gillette noticed as Will entered, nodding at him to stand where he was, just inside the door. Norrington and Stanley were deep in debate.

"Commodore, it gains us nothing to search randomly, hoping that chance will bring us upon the pirate. We must anticipate his movements."

"I'm not willing to wait, idle," said Norrington, "for the blackguard to decide it's time to unload his spoils. We must keep the pressure on and *find* him."

"We don't know where to search," replied Stanley. "We do know his anchorage. The Black Pearl makes berth at the Isle de Muerte. Sooner or later, he will return. Give me the location of this island, and I will bring you this pirate's head."

Norrington shook his head, looking down at the table, which, Will could now see, held a map. "The Isle de Muerte was the Black Pearl's anchorage under its former master. We have no certainty that Jack Sparrow will moor her there. I won't have you, or any of my ships, wasting time at the Isle de Muerte."

"But the gold, Commodore. He'll come back for the gold. He's a pirate."

"And how many innocents will he kill while you are waiting there, Captain?" Norrington's voice was like ice. "I'd rather have you waste your time guarding Matthew Town, or Grand Turk, except that he even slaughters tiny settlements, and I haven't enough ships to guard them all. We must search and *find* him." Norrington looked up from the map, past the council of three men, and spotted Will. "Turner! What say you? Will Sparrow return to the Isle de Muerte?"

Will abruptly found himself under the scrutiny of all three officers. Stanley's gaze, in particular, unnerved him with its intensity. He took a few uncertain steps forward, trying to think.

"Turner?" asked Stanley. "Is this the man who prevented Sparrow from being lawfully hanged?"

"Twice," Norrington said, dryly. "But he means to live a blameless life, evermore. Isn't that right, Turner?"

"Yes sir," Will replied, trying to ignore the daggers Captain Stanley looked at him.

"I brought Mr. Turner along, because he's one of the only men who knows Jack Sparrow. I'm counting on his judgment." Was Will imagining it, or did that last sound a bit sarcastic? "Come, Turner, what say you?"

"I think you have the right of it, Commodore," Will said slowly. "The gold at the Isle de Muerte will be a huge temptation, but Jack knows you know where it is. He waited ten years for a chance at his revenge, so he knows how to wait for the opportune moment. I think he'll stay away from the Isle de Muerte."

Stanley snorted. "The judgment of a blacksmith."

"And of your Commodore," Norrington retorted. "No, Captain. My mind is made up. We need the assistance of the Spanish. I have written this letter to Rodriguez introducing you and proposing the temporary alliance. You will deliver it to Santiago de Cuba. When I arrive, I will outline my plan for a decoy galleon as bait. These are your orders."

"Yes, sir," replied Stanley. "A request, if I may?"

"What is it?"

"Let me have Turner. If I am to be your point ship, I could use such a tool."

"Done. Turner, go and gather your things."

Filled with both trepidation and excitement, Will hurried to comply. Each sailor was allowed only a small trunk for his personal belongings, so in no time, Will was back on deck, following Captain Stanley into his ship's dinghy. As the boat was lowered, Norrington called to him.

"Turner! Don't embarrass me. Don't embarrass Elizabeth."

The noise from the approaching waves made replying uncertain, so Will saluted him as the dinghy plopped into the sea. How he hoped he could help capture Jack, and so redeem himself!

The dinghy passed beneath the looming bow of the Tarantula, on its way to the leeward side of the ship. Will looked up to see the figurehead, a crouched lion, blotting out the sky with its menacing snarl. He followed Stanley up the rope ladder, and presently stood on the deck of the Tarantula, the best pirate-hunting ship in the fleet.

His reception was not what he expected. Or perhaps it would be more correct to say that he expected no reception and was surprised that he got one. To a man, every crewman on deck or in the riggings paused in their labors to stare at him, as if some marine monster had appeared aboard with their captain. Stanley seemed unsurprised by this. "Follow me, Turner," he ordered, and headed for the cockpit. Will obeyed uneasily. On the Deadly Earnest he had not been allowed anywhere near the helm.

Stanley stood Will beside himself, facing the gathered crew. "Men!" he announced, "This is seaman William Turner." This caused some looks to be exchanged that Will couldn't interpret. Surely his name meant nothing to them. Perhaps they were merely wondering why their captain was telling them this. Or, had word of his rescue of Sparrow reached every sailor in the fleet? Horror at this possibility settled in Will's stomach. "The commodore has ordered us to Santiago de Cuba, and there we will go," Stanley continued. "Mr. Turner will be my special advisor regarding Jack Sparrow and the Black Pearl. As my special advisor, he is to have a place in the forecastle. He is not to have to see steerage, as his rank would require. I leave it to you to decide who is to give up his berth in the forecastle. Is this understood?"

A chorus of "Ayes" and "Aye, Captains" issued from the men.

"Go on, Turner," Stanley said, almost kindly.

So Will joined this new crew, was given a berth with the senior men in the forecastle, and was assigned to the Starboard Watch. A man named Jones gave up his place and removed his belongings to steerage, so far as Will could tell, without much resentment. He was treated fairly well, though his status as "special advisor" seemed to keep him a permanent outsider. Conversations in the forecastle ceased abruptly when he entered, as if he were an officer. No one made any effort to get to know him - the other men kept to each other. No one was unfriendly - Will tried complimenting them on their victories over pirates and received polite replies, but no invitation to be accepted as one of their number. He almost missed the hazing on the Deadly Earnest, where he could expect to be accepted after the initiation was done.

Will worked hard, hoping at least to earn respect in that. He soon learned the deck of the Tarantula better than he had known the Deadly Earnest. This crew allowed him, as well as the other junior men, to stand a watch at the helm, and that is where he did receive some grudging looks of respect. It took strength to hold the wheel in high seas, and years of blacksmithing had given Will considerable strength. It took a refined sensitivity to wind and current to hold a course by steering properly into the breakers, slicing them like iron in a forge, at just the right angle, and Will understood what was needed almost instinctively. The chief mate allowed him to stand more and more of his watches at the helm, and Will began to believe he was rather good at it.

Stanley was as good as his word about steerage, too. Will never had to enter that dark, and, no doubt, stinking, area belowdeck. In fact, on his first day aboard, when Will was sent into the hold, he chose the wrong hatch - the hatch into steerage - and was promptly stopped by two officers who guided him to the hold. He hoped Jones didn't mind steerage too badly, but he didn't care to volunteer to sleep there.

So, though the atmosphere aboard this famous pirate hunting ship seemed strange, to Will, he was not unhappy with his lot. He felt a powerful connection to the ship, through its wheel. He began to see how a man could love a ship, and this brought his thoughts again and again to Jack Sparrow. Did Sparrow feel the same awesome sense of power and freedom as he ploughed the waves? The Tarantula was of the same class as the Black Pearl, with three masts and a deep keel - long and sharp, for speed. In fact, Will realized with interest, besides the color of the sails, the only differences between the two ships were the figureheads and the ornaments on the afterdeck. The Tarantula's afterdeck bore a lovely wood sculpture of three leaping dolphins.

Chapter Five

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