PRINCIPLES OF COMPROMISE
- Dis/Claimer-
. Chapter Four .
Elizabeth was very groggy and unresponsive the next morning. She barely touched breakfast, hardly listened to any conversation her father tried to begin, and wanted so much to be anywhere else in the world than where she was now – in the blacksmith shop.
She stood in yet another fine gown that she held no appeal to as several people moved around her idle body sorting out Will’s possessions. She stared at the spot where Will had laid the previous morning in the bleak winter chill of morning. It was now entirely clean, a murder seeming outlandish to have taken place there. Nevertheless she stared, eyes painful and dry, as people shuffled around her in hushed voices.
“Miss Swann?”
Was Jack innocent?
“Miss Swann?”
Elizabeth jolted from her trance at the touch of Norrington’s hand on her arm, and he looked just as surprised as she was from her reaction. He steadied her as she regained control of herself.
“Sorry,” she said. “I just…”
Norrington watched her eyes slowly transfix themselves to the ground again, and he gently grasped her elbow, moving her away. “Mr. Brown would like a word with you,” he told her.
Her eyes darted a moment until Mr. Brown came up to her, beckoning her a little closer. She leaned in, and he held up a small envelope. Both Elizabeth and Norrington became perplexed as Mr. Brown eased it into her hands.
“I don’t know who this is for, though I’d imagine it’s a love letter,” he slurred. “I’m sorry again, Miss Swann.”
“Thank you, Mr. Brown,” she replied kindly. He nodded and went back to sorting with her father and other men. Norrington looked at the envelope curiously.
“Who is it for?” he asked.
Elizabeth looked down, turning it over. “I don’t know. It’s sealed… There’s no name…”
“Are you going to open it?” Norrington inquired.
She considered it, but emotion suddenly wrung her throat. “I’ll do it later,” she decided with a tearful sigh, wondering what the thick envelope could possibly contain. Whatever the contents, they were Will’s, and she hadn’t the heart to open it here in the place of his murder. Norrington nodded, respecting her choice.
“This is also something with no name,” he said, reaching into his coat pocket. Elizabeth watched him pull out a long silver necklace with a small black ball at the end of it. Her brow furrowed as Norrington handed it to her.
“Do you know what it is?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
Elizabeth almost smiled as she rolled the ebony orb between her fingers.
“A black pearl.”
“Intriguing, isn’t it?”
Elizabeth’s mind drifted to Jack’s story last night. She gazed at the swirls on the pearl’s surface, finding Norrington had just stepped away from her side. “Very,” she said distantly.
x x x
That night, Elizabeth sat in her room with the black pearl necklace around her neck. She rolled it between her fingers as she wandered off in thought, the unaddressed envelope in her lap.
When did Will make this necklace?
She looked down at the envelope, unsure of what to do. No name, sealed… it had something in it more than paper. But she was unable to bring herself to open it.
Maybe Jack would be of some help.
x x x
A long droll day had gone by for Jack. To think he had always loved the thought of sleeping for days on end; perhaps on his ship, maybe, but not on the cold stone floor of a prison cell. It was well passed midnight, and he hadn’t slept much. Thought, yes; slept, no.
He thought of all the possible people that could’ve killed Will. Norrington out of jealous rage? Beckett because he was looking for entertainment? The Governor? Mr. Brown? Elizabeth even? He scolded himself for such a thought, but he was willing to blame anyone for something he never did. Somehow, nothing seemed to fit.
While accusing Elizabeth of the dirty deed and pushing it out of his mind, she lingered. That woman was not so easy to ensnare, and he liked it. He did not, however, forgive her for killing him. He would never forgive her for that. But just maybe he could be civil enough to see passed it given the circumstances-
Clang.
Jack sat up away from the back wall listening. The footsteps were faint and grew closer, and suddenly, the apparition-like form of Elizabeth was kneeling in front of him. He leaned back in surprise as she sat the torch beside her. She immediately pulled something out of her coat and leaned into the bars. Jack came closer slowly.
“Are you going to make a habit out of this?” he asked.
“Maybe,” Elizabeth said quickly, showing him the envelope. Jack stared at it blankly for a moment.
“What is that?”
“I don’t know.” She sat it in her lap again, touching its creased surface. “We went through Will’s possessions today, and this was in it.”
“For you?”
“There’s no name,” she said, showing this to him. “It’s sealed, and there’s something in there heavier than paper. I… can’t open it.”
Jack gave her a look of understanding through the shadows of the grate door that separated them, and she allowed him to take it from her. He silently looked it over, his arms through the door.
“Am I to open this for you?” he asked.
Elizabeth sighed. “If it’s not too much to ask.”
Jack lifted his brow as he turned the envelope over, both he and Elizabeth anxiously awaiting to know the contents of the envelope. Jack then pulled out a small knife to Elizabeth’s surprise; shouldn’t that be with his other weapons over on the wall? Nevertheless, Jack cut across the top of the aged envelope, the dry paper tearing easily. After setting the knife down, he pulled the top of the envelope apart, reaching inside. Elizabeth was curious at the face he had made.
From out of the envelope came a piece of parchment with something folded between its creases, and they looked at it in wonder. Jack unfolded the paper and a tiny metal object fell to the floor, rattling the silent jail. Elizabeth slapped her hand over it quickly as she held her breath. No one was coming, so she exhaled and picked up the cold object under her hand.
A key.
“What does the letter say, Jack?” she asked breathlessly, holding up their find.
Jack looked down at the short message on the parchment. “It’s more of a note,” he told her. She leaned back against the door, and he held it out further for her to see as he read.
“It’s addressed to you,” she said in confusion, pointing at his name above the three lines of writing. “How-?”
“Let’s read on, shall we?” She nodded, looking back at the paper.
Jack,
You have your freedom. Always keep it with you.
–William Turner
Elizabeth looked back at Jack. “What does that mean?” She held up the key and looked at it again in the horrible lighting, but Jack slowly took it from her.
“It means your dearly beloved left me a key I’ll never be able to use,” Jack said with a hint of disgust. “Sounds like a mock.” Elizabeth frowned, staring at the black sky outside of the window in front of her. With nothing else to do with the key, he did with it what he usually did all small things he picked up in his travels – tied it in his hair. He crumpled up the note and stuffed it in his pocket.
“When is your hearing?” Elizabeth’s frail voice asked.
“The day after tomorrow,” Jack said, the scent of her hair against his door somewhat distracting. “I take William’s funeral is tomorrow then?”
“Yes,” she finally said, a crack in her voice.
Jack looked her over with admiration and pity, unable to help himself. The moonlight played perfectly on her, even though she appeared vulnerable and defenseless – that’s why it was perfect. Her hair, her face, the shadows, the dressing gown… flawless tragedy.
And a peculiar article around her neck. Yet again.
He reached out for the tiny orb on the silver chain resting on her bosom. Elizabeth was about to slap him when she saw him pick up the small black pearl, and she relaxed against the door again.
“Where did you get that?” he asked, repeating the first words he ever spoke to her. This time, however, he was not interrupted by Norrington or a league of swords surrounding him, so he got a soft reply out of her.
“It was Will’s,” she managed, clearing her throat. “Norrington came upon it and left it to me.” An ironic thought brushed a smile onto her face. “A black pearl?” she said with a tease. Jack studied it closer.
“The black pearl,” Jack stressed, a shine in his eye. “It’s how my bloody ship got its name.”
Elizabeth bent her brow. “This is what you named your ship after?” she asked somewhat skeptically.
A young Jack Sparrow stood on the Wicked Wench next to the gangplank, a feeling of betrayal and wrongdoing coursing through him. A mass of people slowly passed him in single file down the gangplank back to the dock.
Slaves. Now free of their chains and ropes.
Jack Sparrow would not be bringing slaves back to the Caribbean. Not for anyone, including his deceitful employer Cutler Beckett. The slimy git was testing his merit and nobility, and frankly, Jack felt no one deserved imprisonment to another man, especially that of an innocent. Or imprisonment at all. He hadn’t been on good terms with Beckett to begin with, and this just made him despise the man even more.
And so he let all of them leave, knowing very well that he’d rather twist Beckett’s wig and lose his position than condemn these people to fates undeserving of them.
He nodded grim smiles to the men, women, and children as they walked back to their familiar soil, each grateful in their own respects. Half of them were sickly and frail; Africa was not in the luxurious state Europe was. He knew it was the right thing to do.
As each of the faces passed by, one lingered, that of an old woman dressed in shoddy robes with fading colors. He lifted an eyebrow at her.
“You are a good man,” she told him wisely. At the time he smirked inwardly but smiled, not knowing he would ever have another woman tell him that in the late future.
“Thank you, m’lady,” he replied.
“Here.” She held out a closed fist, and Jack curiously opened his hand under it. She laid her fist in his hand and released into it a small marble. No. Pearl? Was it? It was black. He looked at her perplexed. A black pearl?
“What is this?”
“A kind favor for an honorable man,” she said with a smile. “It is a black pearl from the sea, and the sea is its home.” He looked down at the orb in his hand. “You are a man destined for the ocean, and this pearl needs someone like you.”
He swallowed uncomfortably. “It needs me?”
She began to walk back down the gangplank. “Maybe you need it,” she said.
Jack looked back down at it as people began passing him again. He went to call after the woman again, but she was gone. He sighed.
‘Hello, pearl.’
After a moment, he pocketed it in his red jacket, continuing to watch the people leave his ship in exodus, wondering just how mad Beckett might be.
“It is,” Jack replied distantly.
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “How did Will get it?”
Jack’s eyes glazed over again, but he did not answer during his absence into another memory. After a minute, he said, “Don’t let anyone have this. Keep it close.”
She gave him a careful look as he slowly released it back into her hand. She made a fist around it, and Jack hand slid over and covered her hand. Their eyes met.
“No one,” he stressed, “gets this.”
She nodded, but a curious and quiet gaze adjusted itself into her eyes. Jack’s stare did not flinch or change in the slightest, and it gave her some comfort; she could see no lie in him. But that did not mean anything – he’s a pirate that might possibly perfect himself for such a test. Though, she didn’t want to believe that. The cold bands of his rings chilled her hand as it rested there distractingly. Her eyes became watery and restless.
“I can’t do it.” She was short of breath, as if she had just retired from a long run. She fell back against the bars, chest heaving. “I can’t bury him, Jack.”
His grip over her hand tightened slightly as she began to weep. He remained silent, letting her face her own demons without interruption. Jack suffered brief flashes of Will’s face for a few minutes, a kind of regret working its way into him. As his senses came back to him, he looked down at his hand encasing Elizabeth’s motionless one. When he looked up, she was in deep in slumber. He didn’t bother to wake her, knowing she was exhausted from battling her grief.
William, I hope you know what you’ve done to this poor lassie of yours, he thought. She’s a complete mess without you.
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