((okay, amoniel, I'm going with the Dutchman, as agreed at the beginning....sorry, mate!))

Lee, a tall man in his upper 20ies, came up from below deck to see his Captain and his wife go into the Captain's lodging. He nodded to them as they passed, his shaggy black hair getting into his dark blue eyes. He looked around for Bootstrap, expecting to find Little Will with him. He loved playing games with Little Will, he was so funny. And soon to be a grand pirate, like his father and mother are now. Lee thought as he came up to Bootstrap.

"G'day, Bootstrap." He said, grinning to him. "How is the wind treat'n her?"

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Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly

Captain Li.

Yes, yes. Very amusing. They enjoyed rubbing it in his face, the less amiable crewmembers especially. "When do we set sail, Captain Li?" "Where is your ship now, Captain Li?"

The last japer who'd dared mock Heilong Li was now sorely missing his left arm. At least he'd fared better than his friend, who even more sorely lacked his head. Not that he currently needed it. After that incident, most of his crewmembers had scattered to the four winds. One tenacious friend had remained with him. Her name was Dao, and she was a cobra he'd picked up a few months ago. Just the other night, he'd fried her and eaten her for dinner.

So now the once infamous king of the South China Sea, captain of the Black Dragon, was alone. Without crew, ship, or honor. It'd begun as a daring endeavor, secretly docking in Canton disguised as privateers. Even more daring was temporarily abandoning the ship to explore inland in search of ancient records belonging to the East India Trading Company. He'd returned from the essay successful, bearing a small velvet pouch of unique incense.

The East India Company had caught up with the Black Dragon a few days later. They torched his ship and captured his crew. Ever wily, Li had escaped with a few men and bartered a passage on a merchant vessel. The vessel had taken them far, far away. In the space of a few months, Li found himself jumping all over the Mediterranean, his voyage as meandering as a snake's path through the sand.

Until at last, fortune or lack of it landed him in Morocco, wading in a pact with the anonymous captain of... what was it called again? The Earth Render? Ah! The Earth Shaker. A most peculiar name. At least Black Dragon had inspired fear.

Li had spotted the runner enter the common room a small while ago, a nervous man with a hat. The man had stood out among the bronze-skinned residents of this fishing village like a rice grain among black sesame. No doubt he'd gone running off to The Earth Shaker's captain.

Propping his high leather boots on the table, Li shook back his long ebony mane and stroked his trimmed beard - a contemplative habit his men had often described as singularly irritating. He hadn't ordered drink, preferring to save what little coins he had for more pragmatic uses. Besides, a sixth sense advised him he would need a clear head for this confrontation.

The nameless captain's interest in him? He could only surmise, but something told him... He reached into his pocket and extracted the small velvet pouch. He fingered the powdered incense within, recalling what he'd read on an ancient record.

Heavenly smoke released to awaken the Prophetess.

He had only a vague idea what that meant, but he had a feeling that this confrontation may reveal more. In all, he'd gotten more out of his incident with the East India Company than he'd ever bargained for.

-----

A pillow? Gibbs shook his head and dismissed it as another of Jack's spontaneously conceived whims, though a few of those whims would occassionally turn out to be An Excellent Idea, Cap'n.

For now, the poor first mate could only blink away rainwater and grasp the oars. Humiliating labor. Not that he wasn't used to it. In any case, Jack would owe him a bottle of rum when they resecure the Pearl. The harbor was beginning to churn with the storm's fury, and Gibbs had to strain to get the boat under way. Stowing away on their own ship didn't sound very savvy to him either. Not for the first time, he found himself reconsidering his allegiances.

Through the miserable gray he steered them, past a maze of other ships rocking on the ends of their anchor lines. By the time the Pearl's hull loomed over them, his arms felt like lead weights. "I won't be rowin' next time either," he muttered, dropping both oars to the bottom of the boat.

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Damon strode along behind Poseidon, taking in the sights and sounds of Morocco. The busy marketplace, vendors loudly advertising their wares, the smell of meats and vegetables cooking, the hot sun beating down on everything below it.

<i>Interesting, in any case.</i> Damon thought. He wouldn't mind spending a few days here, especially if the inn had good wines. Still, he was eager to be back on <i>The Earth Shaker</i>, sailing for his homeland of Greece.

Brielle sat quietly at a rather large wooden table. Her blue eyes focusing on a small blue marble that rested just in front of her. Twirling her finger in the air the marble began to spin in the circle. Her dark hair also swayed from side to side in their pig tails. As she spun the marble she also caused the wind to pick up in the room. She smiled as she continued, she was bored. However, she knew someone was comming, she wasn't sure who but soon she would no longer have time to waist.

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"Captain Turner, lad," Bootstrap corrected automatically, his eyes not moving from the horizon. His tone was mild enough, but he was quite obviously serious about the matter. He certainly didn't consider his ship to be an absolute autocracy, nor did he view himself as an aloof or distant captain, but there was a certain degree of unspoken protocol that any self-respecting sailor followed, and that included showing adequate respect for one's captain and one's seniors- both of which Bootstrap was to Lee. "An' the wind treats 'er fair, though not nearly so fair as she might were certain parts of th' crew aloft as ordered an' not lounging about on deck."



Elizabeth, in the meantime, continued to curiously follow Will toward the captain's cabin. "Dare I ask what I might expect to see?" she inquired mildly.

Will didn't answer. The cabin was the same as it had ever been but for marginal differences - the organ's keys were filmed with dust, an indication of their lack of use. And another, invisible unless one knew where to look among the many strange contortions of the Dutchman. Above the captain's bunk was a series of deep gouges in the planking, myriad ticks under larger ones. The first was rough and deeper than any other. Will wrapped his hand around Elizabeth's.

"Those are days," he said quietly, stepping forward to brush them with his fingertips. "Those are years." There were ten at the top, each one viciously carved into the wood.

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Lee blushed.

"Sorry, Capt'n." He said automatically. He was still getting use to calling Bootstrap "Captain." Why? Lee had no idea. "I came to ask ye 'hat work ye need or want me to do, Capt'n?" Lee asked eagerly. He wanted to do something productive today, unlike the rest of the crew.

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Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly

Putting down the spyglass, Bootstrap refrained from pointing out that he had been referring specifically to Lee -as most of the other crewmen were, in fact, doing their job- and merely turned to face the young crewman. "You could go aloft like th' others an' help to trim the foresail, for starters," he replied. "When that's done, the deck still needs t'be swabbed. If you find that you have somehow completed all of that by the end of your watch, then my grandson has expressed an interest in learning the finer details of life at sea, an' you may aid in his education if you wish."
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Elizabeth traced each of the marks with the index finger of her free hand, counting to herself as she went. She had a plank of wood at home with almost identical markings. She and William had moved around a good bit in the course of ten years, but she hadn't been able to bear leaving her 'calendar' behind in the wall of their first home, and so the plank had gone with them. It was oddly comforting to know that she and Will had been united in at least one thing over the years.

"William was born here," she said softly, her finger lingering briefly on one of the marks under the first year before moving on. "Here he took his first steps." She continued tracing without speaking for some time until she came to another particularly deep mark under the fifth year. "The halfway point...Jack came to visit here, to see how I was faring. I'm afraid William took quite a liking to 'Uncle Jack.' I still suspect that the small, less desirable part of his vocabulary may have come from that day." She laughed mirthlessly, then continued. "William's seventh birthday- the day I told him the full extent of our story..." She fell silent as she finally came to the last mark. She still remembered the day represented by that mark perfectly. Getting William up early so that they could treck to the other side of the island, dressing in their finest clothes. They'd both been so anxious, though she'd done a considerably better job of concealing it for William's sake.

And now here they were. Finally together as a family, finally ready to settle down...and still going off on adventures. Blinking back tears, she squeezed Will's hand tighter and smiled up at him. Speaking seemed superfluous, and for the moment, at least, she was content to merely savor her husband's presence.

Bellmaethorion (Bellma for short) walked aboard the Dutchman, eyeing the ships wood and craftsmanship. He saw Lee trying to do something and walked over to him. "'Ello, Lee. Anything I can do to help, or are you to stubborn to let anyone take credit besides you?" Bellma's deep voice said. He smiled.

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<center>
"I think I'm adorable."
~Dean Winchester~
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Will moved to brush the back of his hand over her cheek, an infinitely gentle caress that spoke more of his yearning for her over those years than words ever could. It was in these moments that he found himself almost afraid...afraid that in a moment it would disappear, dissolve into a nightmare of twilit darkening sky between the worlds of living and dead. "What did little William say?" he murmured finally, drawing her close to lean his head on her hair while reaching with one hand to trace the mark she'd last touched. "To learn his father was..."

He broke off. That his father was undead, captain of a mythical ship believes only a story but for a select few who knew the truth? That he was cursed to be captain as such for ten years - an eternity if his love was not faithful? Will was not sure he himself as a child would have believed it.

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"I think he'd always known, to some degree," Elizabeth said at length. "I mean, certainly not the finer details of it all, but it was only so long before it became evident that most little boys didn't have an iron chest containing the still-beating heart of their father sitting on their mother's bedside table. He'd started asking questions around his seventh birthday, and so I told him. He seemed to think it a bit odd at first, but I know he believed me. He was always fiercely protective of your reptuation- something that seemed quite odd to those who didn't know of our relationship. I remember one time he actually came to blows with one of the older boys in town over the matter; I think he would have won, too, had I not pulled him away." She laughed softly and shook her head slightly, recalling the incident. It had actually been a rather serious occurence, one that had required that she sit William down and explain the gravity of their situation, and why no one could know who his father actually way. But Will didn't need to know that part of it. Not now, at least. "Promise me I won't lose you again," she murmured, leaning back against Will's chest and letting him support her, only half-aware that the words had even made it past her thoughts. "I don't think I could bear it twice."

(i think i am going to have to drop out because i am confused beyond reason, unless someone want's to catch me up! sorry)

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[font=Times New Roman]
Hello, I'm Amoniel
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(Well from what i see the only thing going on is Will and Liz meeting. Then there is the 'Earth Shaker' i do believe they are heading to Greece to steal the Oricle?)

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"I promise," said Will. The undercurrent of passionate intensity in his voice was more reassuring, more of a promise than words could ever be. He didn't have to bend far to kiss the top of her head, embrace tightening for a moment before -

"Mama?"

The inquiring small voice, along with a slight creak of a door on its hinges, announced the arrival of little William. "Mama, mister - mister - he said he'd let me help him wind the anchor all the way in." He couldn't quite recall the name, and with a gesture indicated over his shoulder. "But Gran'pa said I should ask you."

He ventured into the cabin, hat securely on. The top button of his shirt was undone, possibly by accident...but more probably by design.

_________________

Elizabeth slowly, reluctantly extracted herself from Will's embrace and turned to face their son. They would have to arrange for some designated 'alone' time later, perhaps with Bootstrap's assistance. Stealing away simply could not last long in the presence of children, especially when the constant threat of young eyes entering unexpectedly prevented anything of great significance from occuring.

"Yes, you may," she replied with a slight smile. "Though I would prefer that your grandfather be present to supervise as well."
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Barbossa frowned down at the map spread out before him, feeling his irritation with the inanimate object growing. Three days, they'd been out at sea. Three days, he'd been trying to decipher the markings on this map. What had seemed like a relatively easy puzzle at first had long since proven to be otherwise. There was no pattern or logic to the symbols, and he could almost swear something changed every time he went to look at it. A plate of food sat further away on the table, untouched as Barbossa continued to compare the map to one of his own and make note of where certain symbols occured. He paused once to scratch Jack's head as the monkey jumped up on the table and chattered inquiringly, then went right back to scowling at the map. He was a firm believer in sticking to one's choices without regret or second thought, but he was beginning to wonder if leaving Jack Sparrow in Tortuga had, indeed, been the wisest course of action.

There was a slight commotion on deck. Rolling his eyes, Barbossa resumed his intent studying of the maps. Ordinarily he might have gone out to investigate the cause of the disturbance, but it was likely was only some minor conflict betwixt two members of the crew, and nothing to merit his own intervention. It wasn't until the door to his cabin unexpectedly slammed shut that he even bothered to look up from the map. What he saw only halfway surprised him.

"I'll like as not regret askin', Jack, but how is it exactly that ye came to be aboard my ship?"
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"Cap'n."

Bootstrap looked up abruptly, shaking off whatever musing had just been occupying his mind. "Aye?"

"Cap'n," Maccus repeated with a brief salute, "there's a ship fore an' larboard, seems t' be comin' about as though she means to hail us."

"Colours?"

"She ain't flyin' any, Cap'n."

Bootstrap quickly pulled out his spyglass and fixed it on the location Maccus had indicated. Sure enough, the distant ship was beginning to angle herself so that their paths would intersect, and...readying her cannons? "Mr. Adamson!"

Of all the remaining crewmen, Jim Adamson -also called Jimmy Legs- had been around the longest, though even he couldn't say precisely how long that was. Upon hearing his name, the sailor quickly ascended the steps to the quarterdeck. "Cap'n?"

"What d'ye make of that ship, Jim?"

Jim accepted the spyglass and studied the ship in question. "Earth Shaker," he declared at length. "I'd know 'er anywhere. Jones occasionally 'ad dealin's with 'er, some time ago."

"Friendly?" Bootstrap asked, though he already had a pretty good idea what the answer to that question was.

Jim's expression only confirmed it. "Shall I 'ave 'em on th' guns, then?"

"Bring 'er about, an' on the guns," Bootstrap agreed, "but hold fire until my signal. We let them deliver th' first blow."

Both men saluted, then quickly descended to relay the orders- plus or minus an oath or two. "On th' guns, maggots! Hold 'til given th' order! Penrod, get yer bleedin' a.rse to th' helm an' bring 'er a few degrees larboard!"