aella_irene | Fanfic 100- Beginnings (Reply)

Title: Bon Voyage
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Characters: Jack Sparrow, Elizabeth Swann and Will Turner. Appearances by Lt. James Norrington, Governor Weatherby Swann, Captain Teague Sparrow and several OCs.
Prompt: Beginnings
Word Count: 1, 161
Rating: PG
Summary: Three children start three journeys.

John is ten when his father comes to take him away.

For eleven months of the year, he runs with his cousins, plays with them, learns with them, works with them, and it doesn’t matter a bit that his skin is a few shades lighter, that his name is John, not Rajinder or Chandra or Vikram, like the others. But every so often, when the wind comes in from the West, his father blows into port, all rum and tobacco, with gifts for John’s mother, and things to be sold in the markets, silks from China and spices from Turkey. Then John is set apart. Other.

And that is bad enough, but this visit is different, John can tell. His parents have long conversations, behind closed doors, and when they come out his mother’s pretty pomegranate mouth is turned down at the corners, and he has to tell jokes he learned down at the docks to make her smile again. So, really, he isn’t surprised when, after dinner on the last night, his father turns to him, and says he’s taking John with him, this time, to be apprenticed to a cartographer, a map maker.

John’s mother looks as if she might cry. John just stares at his hands, and tries not to wince when his father calls him Jackie, as he does every other word. John hasn’t been Jackie since he could walk and talk properly.

And then everything is a rush, as John runs around trying to say goodbye, and his mother tries to pack everything he might need, for every possible set of circumstances (and some, like being stranded in the Arctic, which John personally thinks are impossible). John’s father, having set the house in motion, disappears down to the nearest tavern.

They leave early the next day, to catch the morning tide, his father says. John kisses his mother on both cheeks, and pretends he can’t taste salt, then turns away and, sack in hand, begins the walk to the docks with his father.

“Where are we going?” he asks, scampering along to keep up, “Is it the Caribbean? Are we going to the Caribbean? Or China? Or Russia?”

His father looks down, and shakes his head.

“Nay, Jackie me lad. You’re Bristol bound.”

John shivers. Bristol is cold, all the sailors agree that, and Jack has never felt the cold, but he doesn’t think he ever wants too. His father laughs, and ruffles his hair.

“Don’t worry boyo. The Caribbean can wait.”

Will buries his mother on a Wednesday. The service is cheap, but better than he expected. Mr Smith, the inn-keeper she worked for, chips in a little, Will suspects on the orders of his formidable wife. Mistress Smith was always kind to him, after all, letting him hold stirrups and even wait tables in the busy times, recommending him as a good messenger boy to merchants when times were less busy. She even offered to let Will stay in the stables, working there and maybe becoming an ostler later on, and showed no hard feelings when Will said, thank you ma’am, but he was going too his father in Bristol.

He thinks she knows he was lying. His mother bemoaned her absent husband often enough, on dark winters nights when she bought them both rum toddies to keep out the cold. But she doesn’t say she knows, and even gives him some bread and cheese and ale for the road, an old blanket from the stables, and some coppers tucked in the bundle, in case he needs to buy lodgings.

It’s a long walk from London to Bristol, after all.

It’s raining the day they leave England.

Raindrops dribble down the windows as the carriage rattles over the cobbles of the dock, and Elizabeth presses her nose to the glass, watching them. Her father, over in the other corner of the carriage reading documents, doesn’t appear to notice. Her governess is asleep. Outside, Portsmouth rolls past, tall houses, and streets filled with Naval Officers. Elizabeth tries to guess their ranks, the difference between Leiutenant and Captain, but she can’t do it, all uniforms look the same to her, and in the end she just slumps in her seat, kicking the wood of the seat opposite idly.

“Elizabeth,” says her father, and she sighs, pouts, and stops. Their travels from London have, so far, been desperately boring. The weather has been wet, so all she has seen has been a procession of wet, muddy, towns and villages, and soggy green fields. Even when they stopped, her father had reserved private parlours, so that she did not even get to see the tap room of the inns they stayed at.

She hopes the voyage will be more interesting. She’s read about the Caribbean, and it sounds terribly exciting. It even, according to a broadsheet she borrowed from one of the younger footmen, has pirates!

The carriage turns, and Elizabeth, looking out of the window, cannot hold back a squeak of joy. They’ve reached the docks! She can see a horde of ships, all of them Navy, all of them carrying the flag of Her Majesty Queen Anne. Elizabeth wriggles with excitement, until her father frowns at her. She stops then, because she is trying so very hard to be good, and to behave in a manner befitting a young lady.

The carriage slows, and stops. The door swings open to reveal a young man in a naval uniform, who bows as her father rises to his feet, and carefully steps down from the carriage.

Elizabeth pokes her governess, and, as Mrs Moore splutters awake, points to the open door. Outside, she can hear introductions being made. The young man is Lieutenant Norrington, first lieutenant of the H.M.S. Dauntless, which will take them to Port Royal. Her father nods to him, then turns to her.

“Elizabeth my dear,” he says and gestures to her to get out.

Elizabeth comes forward and Lieutenant Norrington hands her out of the carriage like a lady. The footing is slippery and treacherous, and Elizabeth has to place her feet carefully to avoid turning an ankle. On the gangplank she slips, almost falling, but Lieutenant Norrington catches her by the waist, and lifts her up onto the deck.

Mrs Moore, following, tuts at Elizabeth’s clumsiness, and, once they have been introduced to the Captain (a gruff man with red cheeks and a somewhat ill fitting wig,) takes her down to their cabin and puts her to bed, telling her that she is overexcited, that the travelling has her overtired, and that if she will not sleep properly, she will have to take laudanum to ensure that she is well rested. Elizabeth sighs, and acquiesces.

By the time she escapes up on deck, the next morning, England is just a dim shadow behind them. She watches it for a few moments, then turns away, towards the adventure of the Caribbean.