I'm Back

[dwgm]

Having returned from the far north, I refer anyone interested in a quick synopsis of our Alaska Cruise/Victoria Adventure to ladymora's journal in which she mentions some of the high (and low) points. Many thanks to cacophony for taking such good care of the house while we were away.

In Victoria, B.C. we stayed at The Red Lion Inn, which was cheap (AAA discount) and had a full-size refrigerator in the room as well as microwave, TV, comfortable beds, picture window with view of heated pool and baskets and pots of fuschias (my favorite flower) and INTERNET ACCESS!!!!! which we really missed on the cruise (ladymore strongly suggested to them that they add high-speed access to the staterooms). Purusing LJ after our return from Butchart Gardens that night, I noted the current challenge from pirates500 ('Broken') and this reply came to me, like a vision...

A Bit of Mending

He had a few regrets, had Bill Turner. There was no getting around it.

Broken hearts…

“You said that would be the last time!”

“I have to go, Mary. We need the money.”

“The money!” The contempt in her voice almost drew a wince from him. “It isn’t that, and don’t tell me different. Don’t tell me different!”

And she was right, of course. He took her, and held her tight until she stopped struggling, and gentled her as she sobbed against his shirt. And a few hours later he left her, asleep, looking like an angel in the dim light of morning.

Broken promises…

“Dad…you’ll be coming back soon?”

“Aye, Will. It’ll seem a long while, but I’ll be back by this time a year hence. Lord, you’ll be ten summers by then! Nearly a man.” He looked at his son, this mirror image of his younger self, and wondered if the boy was like him in other ways, too. The restlessness. The sea-longing. The spark of deviltry that led ‘merchant seaman’ William Turner astray, and kept him returning again and again to the devil himself, Jack Sparrow: fair of face and form, laughter and guts and cunning, and a fire for life that would lure a saint to sinning. And God knew Bootstrap Bill was no saint.

Broken faith…

“Don’t do it, Bill. I thank you for the gesture, even if it is a bit late in coming, but you’ve Mary and your boy to think of, aye? I know that’s why you kept silent.”

Bill stared through the grate of the brig, where his Captain sat in a half-inch of fetid water, knees drawn up, the blood and bruising on his face evident even in this dim light. The dark eyes were dulled some, from pain and betrayal, but there was still a spark there. Enough to keep him alive, maybe. And enough to keep his friend Bill from doing anything stupid.

Oh, yes. Bill Turner had regrets.

There’d been something wrong about the island, the cave, the carved stone chest, the gold, pure and bright with the death’s head grinning on each. He’d taken only the one piece, but he’d taken it. Because he was like the others: he’d failed his Captain. No getting around that, either. He’d known the curse was real, then and there, even before the effects became so horribly evident. When they had, he’d laughed, bitterly, and shrugged. Justice was served, eh?

And then, he’d had an idea.

The letter and the medallion were gone now. His last words to the wife and son he loved. His last gesture of atonement to the man he should have defended with his life. Stupid, maybe. But necessary.

Barbossa and some of the others came to him where he stood at the rail, looking out toward England.

“Bill, me lad. Is there somethin’ ye’d like to tell us?”

William Turner turned to look at his ‘captain’, and smiled as he hadn’t in a long while. §

Comments

[geekmama.livejournal.com]

Thanks so much! I'm so glad you liked the story!

Yes, cruising is an excellent lifestyle. I'd do it full-time if I won the big bucks in the lottery.

So sorry to hear you guys missed out on moving in next to ladymora and dr_mrow. It would have been so perfect. *sigh* Such is life, sometimes.