The long ordeal of Bootstrap Bill

By Rose de Sharon

Disclaimer: any recognizable character belongs to Mickey Mouse.

Author's notes:

- English isn't my native language and I don't have a beta-reader, all mistakes are mine.

- Father/son pure love!

- Flames will be used to increase the power of my radiators. It's cold here in Canada!

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Chapter 1: They took away my father

"Papa, may I ask you a question?"

"Bootstrap" Bill Turner raised his eyes from his lightened pipe to look at his son. As usual, the Captain of the Flying Dutchman and its First Mate had retired to the Grand Cabin for the night; officially, it was to discuss the next day's route, but every crewmember knew that the Turners wanted a private talk between themselves, catching up for lost times after years of separation.

The elder Turner was sitting in a comfortable armchair while Will had been standing by the large, panel-subdivided windows, staring at the ink-like night. The sea was tranquil and the moon was out, its silver light dancing on the dark waves. The Grand Cabin's candlesticks were illuminated and it added warmth within the facility, completing the cozy feeling given by the elaborated furniture, the framed paintings and engravings, the cushioned chairs and couch. The navigational maps were neatly rolled, tied and stocked in a corner and the Captain's desk was immaculate, a testimony that everything aboard the Flying Dutchman was under control.

Will hadn't been talkative since the beginning of the evening but his father respected his silence. He knew it would be just a matter of time before the young man would engage in a conversation. In the meantime, Bill Turner had been smoking his pipe (he had renewed with tobacco shortly after regaining his human form) and enjoying his favorite pastime: feasting his eyes on the sight of his cherished son.

Bill and Will Turner had been slowly rebuilding their relationship, gone cold from Bill's long absence. Talking wasn't always easy for the older man, who permanently felt like dragging behind him a heavy bag tied to his neck and loaded with bricks made of shame, guilt and embarrassment. But step by step, taking reassurance in his son's obvious affection for him, Bill had been able to open up, giving Will some glimpses about his enslavement aboard the Flying Dutchman and serving under Davy Jones' tyranny. He knew that the rope tying him to this bag of bricks won't be totally severed before his son would be released from his 10-year-long soul-ferrying duty, but at least the threads could be cut, one tiny bit after another, giving Bootstrap Bill little amounts of relief each time.

Bill had sworn to himself that he would never refuse or hide anything to Will, that why he answered to his son:

"Of course, Will."

"It's an indiscreet question and I don't want to hurt or upset you..." said Will while turning around to face his father.

Alarmed, Bootstrap Bill raised from his armchair, his pipe carelessly laid down on a nearby table. Will seemed reluctant to talk and yet, it looked like he couldn't stop himself to ask the question burning on his lips. The elder Turner couldn't bear the idea of his son being uncomfortable, not even for a minute, so he put his two hands on Will's shoulders and looked at the youngster straight in the eyes.

"Ask me anything, Will. God's wounds, you deserve it."

The young man's chocolate-brown gaze stared at his father's blue eyes for a moment, and then Will said:

"Papa, I'd like to know… How did you become a pirate?"

Bootstrap Bill stood agape for a while, then he bent his head and let go a long, loud sigh. The dreaded question had finally arrived. He didn't resent Will for asking it – the courageous, loyal, gold-hearted young man owned the right to know after missing having his father in his life for too many years. But Bill Turner was also afraid his blooming relationship with his son would be damaged by his confession, like early spring flowers were destroyed by an unexpected return of the frost. What would William think of him, after learning why his father had left his family to go pirating?

Will's voice rose again, interrupting Bill's thoughts: "I've upset you, Papa; I am sorry…"

"There's no need to be, my Little One," answered Bootstrap Bill straight away. "You did nothing wrong. You have every right in the world to ask me this question. In fact, if I'd been brave enough, I would have told you weeks ago. But I was scared…"

"What of, Papa?"

"I was scared to disappoint you, to not be worthy of the enormous sacrifices you've done to free me…" Bill's voice trailed away in embarrassment, before adding: "Truth to be told, I still am."

"Then forget my question. It's not important, after all."

"No, Will, it is important. Besides, I don't want to hide anything from you, may it be my past or my feelings."

Understanding that his father's story would be a long one, Will gently guided the older man towards the Great Cabin's couch; both men sat down and Bootstrap Bill took one of his son's hands between his calloused and scarred owns.

"Will," said the elder Turner, "before I begin, I want to tell you this: I love you with all my heart."

"Papa, I do know how much you care about me," answered Will truthfully.

"I never wanted to leave you and your mother. But Will, I have been in pain for years and I was hurting so much… So much…"

The elder Turner remained quiet for a few moments, trying to recollect his thoughts. Then he started telling his story:

"I was born in Glasgow. My mother ran away with another sailor when I was four years old and even though I cried my eyes out, she never came back. I had no siblings so through my boyhood there was just us two, my father and me. He was slaving all day long at the quays, loading and unloading crates and barrels from merchant ships. It was heart-breaking to watch him come home in a state of complete exhaustion, clutching his pitiful fee in his hand, too tired to even kick his shoes off! Apart the huge void left by my mother's abandonment and our permanent struggling for money, I can say I was happy with your Grandpa. He was of the tall, strong, silent type but whenever I needed a hug or wanted to ask a question, he was here for me."

Will smiled while hearing the description of his grandfather: Bootstrap Bill had just made a portrait of himself without even realizing it. A chip off the old block!

"A few days short before my seventh birthday, I had to start working at a weaving workshop to make ends meet. My job was to slip inside those wooden machines to repair the threads whenever they broke, and it happened often. I got injured on the job many times, and twice I almost got mangled by the giant mechanisms. I hated that work with a passion because I already wanted to sail aboard a merchant ship, but it was impossible to enlist as a cabin boy before reaching the age of eleven years old. And I had to consider myself lucky, because a lot of seven-year-olds were sent to work at the coal mines and never came back alive!"

"I never resented my father for making me work in that weaving Hell; I knew that he worried all day long that I might be killed or maimed by the weaving machines. But I didn't know that he was smuggling goods while breaking his back at the docks. It was the only way for him to earn some much-needed extra money and besides, it wasn't highway robbery: he just picked up a few things stocked inside the crates and sold them to Receive Rob, a notorious fence in town. The ships were overloaded with merchandises; no one would notice a few ounces of tobacco were missing, or spices, or even a yard of silk. Bookkeeping wasn't very thorough at the time; the harbor masters barely knew how to read and write, or they were also stealing on the docks to increase their meager wages. My father would only intercept a few baubles and sold them quickly, earning a shilling or two for his troubles that would help to buy more food for the pot."

"And then, what happened? Did he get greedy?" asked Will, even if he doubted that very much. Avarice wasn't a flaw running in the Turner's family tree.

"No, my son. But your grandfather wasn't the only smuggler on the fence's payroll. Receive Rob had a lot of contacts in the docks, and some of them got the taste for easy-earned money. They started to seal precious goods and Rob got impatient and greedy, a dangerous combination. And what was bound to happen, happened: one of the smugglers got caught on the act of stealing a precious item. He denounced Receive Rob, who got also arrested and he gave the names of all his accomplices; my father was among them. The judge sentenced Rob to jail, since he had enough money to buy his way out, but all the smugglers were sent to the gallows."

Will's face paled at his father's words: watching a man dying at the end of a rope was a horrendous sight, that why he had always refused to attend executions during his stay at Port Royal. The very idea of joining a crowd that yelled in enthusiasm whenever the neck of a doomed wretch broke had always revolted him. Jack Sparrow's illustrious career had almost come to this "a sudden drop and a sudden stop" kind of end, if not for Will and Elizabeth's interventions. And to think his grandfather had met this sad fate for stealing mundane things, like tobacco or spices…

Then Will noticed tears were gathering in his father's eyes. Acting out of impulse, he squeezed Bill's hand as tightly as he could to make the older man realize his son's silent support.

Bootstrap Bill's voice trembled as he recalled awful memories: "I saw it all, Will. I was ten years old at the time, and some town officials had thought it would be a good idea to force families to watch their loved ones being strangled on the Executions' Dock, as "an example for the children". I daresay it was another torture for the condemned men to see their little ones crying and screaming, trying to hide behind their mothers' skirts; some of them were barely old enough to understand what was happening to their Pa… The women were begging for grace – begging on their knees! But all their pleas fell on deaf ears. One by one the men were hanged. As for your Grandpa… it took a long moment for the noose to kill him: he was tall and very strong. And I had to watch it, Will. I was forced to watch while my father struggled for air, kicked his feet desperately to reach the ground and then his body convulsed before finally remaining still forever. Oh God, I'll never forget the pain I've felt, it was like being knifed in the gut."

Will was in a tumult of feeling; the cruelty of the disproportionate punishment was already awful, but to think ten-year-old Bill had to watch his father being executed... He suddenly got ashamed of himself for asking his father why he became a pirate. He should have been wiser and let bygones be bygones!

"I am sorry, Papa! I am sorrier than I can say for asking you that question. Please, accept my apologies."

Startled, Bill looked up and saw the deep concern in his son's dark eyes. Once again, Will was placing the well-being of others atop of his own but his father wouldn't have any of this. The elder Turner tightened his grip on Will's hand and looked at him through his tear-filled eyes:

"You have nothing to apologize for, Will. It is your right to know… and I want you to know, my son."

A moment of silence followed, during which the two men looked at each other. Will knew his father didn't lie. A few weeks ago, the young Captain had accidentally overheard a conversation between some of his crewmembers who were playing cards while off-duty; the men were jokingly saying that if Bootstrap Bill ever wanted to deny his affection for his son, he'd have to gouge out his eyes first! This accidental eavesdropping had caused Will to smile; he had felt both touched and moved that Bill's unconditional devotion for him had been witnessed by the Flying Dutchman's shipmates.

How could Bill Turner ever lie to Will, with his blue eyes shining with love whenever he looked at his son?

Will squeezed his father's hand before asking in a quiet voice: "What happened afterwards?"

TBC…