(Part 1 of the Truths & Lies series, but can be read as a standalone. See A Reader's Guide to Truths and Lies.)

How to tell a man I was his dead father's catamite? Not too many models to work from there, but I'm Captain Jack Sparrow and I sail uncharted waters the way lesser pirates island-hop along the trade routes. Occasionally, I confront unforeseen perils, but that is rather the point of the whole exercise, wouldn't you say?

"Fair enough," I begin, "but remember you've only yourselves to blame if you don't like what you hear. I'd not be telling it at all if you hadn't made such miseries of yourselves just now."

Elizabeth looks like objecting to that, so, having done all I can to protect myself, I plunge right in.

"He was beautiful, your father, afore Davy Jones marred him—most beautiful man I ever knew. But then you've only to look in the mirror, eh, young Will?"

I find flattery makes a good beginning to most things. But a kernel of truth, while often inconvenient, is usually indispensable, and I know to the depths of my weaselly black guts that this pretty whippersnapper couldn't hold a candle to my William.

"Save you've not got his eyes. Blue, his ones were, and magical, I swear, because they changed their colour in step with the sea."

Nobody besides me seemed to see it, but I could spend hours just watching the colours shift below the surface of those eyes. Only when there was nothing better to be doing with him, mind...

"But you'll be wanting less of the lover's nonsense and more about how I met him, eh? I was a mere scrap of a lad in those days—useful in a fight and could draw better maps from memory than most can by copying—but still a scrawny, spitting, young savage with a voice only new dropped."

Never pass by an opportune moment to do a little myth-making.

"Course, your Da was barely a man himself, for all I thought him so full-grown and sagacious at the time. He'd crewed the Pearl for a year or so afore I came aboard, and he knew her well. They were sailing out of Madagascar in them days, picking off the East India trade. Weren't my first ship, nor my first pirating, not by a long ways, but I was a young fool for all that and drew troubles to me like dogs after a bitch in heat."

Lizzie wrinkles her pretty nose at that image. Well, there's likely worse to come, lass.

"I could tell you it was love at first sight, only it weren't. Didn't rightly notice him at first or know when I first set eyes on him. But, like I said, trouble didn't take long to find me. Perhaps I was cocky around the old hands, helped myself to other men's property—or their sweethearts. Maybe I was quick to fight or bid stakes I couldn't back, maybe I'd toss my head and walk when I judged a man was old and ugly, and not think to check first if he had mates to back him up. No doubt you can picture the general direction things would take."

"And my father protected you?"

That's young Will Turner for you: quite goggle-eyed for the exploits of the late William Turner, noble defender of helpless young lads. He's even willing to invent said exploits himself and save me the trouble. Best go easy on William Turner, seducer of not-so-innocent boys, then. Notwithstanding which, I find myself strangely reluctant to be snatched from the clutches of the nasty, big, brutal pirates by shining Sir William on a white charger—entertaining though the experience might prove.

"Not generally, no." It sounds harsher than I meant, so I keep talking to blur the starkness of it. "A couple of times I remember he smoothed things over with a quiet word, but mostly, he'd stand back and let things run their course. When all was done and dusted, he'd pop up accidental-like, just at the opportune moment."

To wipe away the blood, tears, and other assorted bodily fluids, and gently acquaint me with the notion that I might be slightly less of a bloody fool next time.

"He had this way of putting his arms round me that was all give and no ask, if you take my meaning. Never seemed to want nothing. And I never thought to wonder what he was holding back. Although, being fair to myself here, people who held back had been roughly as prevalent in my life to that point as elocution lessons or three-legged camels."

I pause for effect. "As a matter of fact, honesty obliges me to point out that I drank milk from a three-legged camel one time in Massawa—drank it from a cup, that is, but it came out of a three-legged camel before it went into the cup. So I did have some limited acquaintance with at least one camel that was missing a leg, but not with whatever the other things were..."

Was true about the camel, and all: that's why I put it in. Thought it might get more of a laugh, but at least they're listening, because young Will hardly has to think before he says, "Elocution lessons and people who hold back."

"Word perfect, lad! Good to see someone's paying attention. So, to cut a long story short, your Da waited and waited, until in the end I figured it out, took matters in hand, as it were, and made the first move myself."

Probably not the right time nor place to elaborate, but we set a spark to the powder and no mistake: some nights, I can still see the after-flash inside my eyelids. This pair of spaniels with their half-hearted shackle games and mumbled apologies have no idea—most likely never will neither.

"We stuck close to each other after. He was my William, I was his Jack. It was so perfect I thought nothing could ever take the shine off it..."

"Jack?"

Seem to have lost myself for a moment.

"Oh. Aye, well, we came unstuck in the end, of course, but we had nine good years and that's a fair stretch by anyone's reckoning now, innit?"

Because it were nine counting from start to finish, even if a lot went missing in between.

"What about my mother?"

"No call to get uppity, lad! He was mine afore he was Peggy's. Well, leastways, afore I knew about Peggy. Knew how much she meant to him, I mean. Absolutely definitely it were afore I set eyes on her in the flesh, as it were."

"You met my mother?" From the whelp, that. Can always count on that one to go for the bait.

"Nine years? I find it hard to imagine you being true for nine days, Jack."

Oh, she's a sharp one, that Elizabeth! Not quite as sharp as she likes to think, mind, for in her place, I'd not be reminding Will of anyone's promiscuity just at this juncture. Or giving me the chance to inquire how long she remained true after their wedding—or, in fact, before it.

However, some points ain't worth the trouble of scoring them. Better to ease her suspicions with a nice little touch of very... variety... vermiculite... verisimilitude—that's the stuff.

"Ah, Lizzie, there's many things in this world as you can't imagine, but that don't stop them being so. Weren't none of that forsaking-all-others malarkey, mind—never in my nature that, and William weren't one to fret over things not to be. He'd tumble a lass himself now and then when we made port, though mostly he stuck with me—or Peggy when he had the chance, which weren't too often."

"Please just tell me about my mother."

Well what about that? Seems the lad don't want to hear about the whores his Da used to fuck. Don't fancy telling him, neither, specially not about the young, dark lads. Cruel it were, letting me see that: no other word for it. Although I do have fond memories of that busty redhead we did together—think it was in Recife, or was it Essequibo? Anyway, I've seen my own Da with enough whores (and my Mam with enough customers) to know it's not what you'd call a comfortable subject, so I let the boy off lightly.

"Was no secret William had a girl back in Bristol. He'd send her stuff, see. Most of the lads, now, they spend as they find, but William he was always storing it up to send to Pegs; all the more so after you made your entrance. The others used to take the piss out of him for it, tell him it'd never get there or she'd be spending it on some fancy man. First part was true enough and well he knew, but he sent it nonetheless. 'Better some of it reaches them than none.' That's what he'd say."

All tight and determined and completely bloody unshakeable, just like young Will here back when he didn't want to believe his Da'd been a pirate. And I can see the story of those incessant packets home is greatly to the boy's liking, for he fair glows with filial pride. Reckon William earned that one for himself; I'll take no credit.

"So, he kept on sending the parcels, and whenever he had a message for your Ma, I'd pen it for him."

They fair goggled at that one, as I knew they would. Why is it people doubt me most when I give them the plain truth?

It was the girl what put it into words. "You mean he trusted you to write love-letters to your rival?"

"Didn't I tell you? I was his Jack! Besides, he knew enough to follow the gist, and why would I meddle? Peggy was around the Cape, over the Line, and across the Bay of Biscay-oh!"

Nay, I never begrudged Peggy: what I was up against was bigger than all the Peggies of this world. Stands to reason, that, for I'd have prevailed else.

"No, lass, the only times I minded Peggy was when he went back to see her, and that was but thrice in all my years with him. I tell you, mate, it's no wonder you're an only child."

"You really met her? It's true?"

See? Always the true parts they balk at.

"Aye, just the once—yourself too though you won't recall it. Not on that first trip though. I stayed on the ship that time, and let William go ashore by his onesies."

Didn't like the look of England and it was made clear it didn't like me. Which was no worry because a lot of the lads was English-born and eager to trade me ship duty in Bristol for double time somewhere more warm and friendly.

"Nine months before your birth, that one was, though it took more than a year for news of you to reach us. Your Da grinned like a simpleton when I read him the letter, then he drank more rum than I did and slept it off under the stars. After that, he was forever bothering your Ma for news of you—desperate he was—so when we next had dealings off the coast of Spain I talks the captain into making a quick run to Bristol."

My word as navigator carried a deal of weight by then, and I figured it couldn't hurt to have William owe me a large favour. Besides, I wanted to take a look-see myself, learn what manner of creature a Small William might be.

"William fetched your Mam and you down to a tavern he liked near the dock, the Crab and Cutlass or the Stockfish and Stocking—some such daft name. The three-and-a-half of us drank that brown English beer together."

Not bad stuff neither, as beer goes, but it didn't make up for having to sit there all manly as can be, calling him Bill, and sitting on my hands to keep from touching him.

"Then I took you off to see the ships and give the two of them a bit of time by their selvsies. William was hoping to make you the first of many, savvy?"

"That was you! You showed me a sugar ship unloading. We hid behind a stack of barrels and broached one with a knife you kept in your boot. The molasses came oozing out, and we dipped our fingers in and licked them until somebody chased us off."

Had near forgot the molasses myself. Remembering that burnt, sticky taste took me back to Bristol dock, feeling cold, damp and grown up, and not rightly knowing what to say to the miniature William hanging on my every word. Who'd have thought the lad would keep the memory of it still?

"You told me sugar cane was juicier and better, but it only grew far away south where the sky's always blue with the sun blazing right at the top of it."

"Aye, well, not all old Jack's stories are made up then, are they?"

"Then you said you'd battled a fire-breathing dragon off the coast of China until you were kidnapped by a mermaid mad for your kisses, but she left you naked on a beach in Singapore."

That one, I do remember.

"Your memory may have slightly embroidered the tale over the years."

He smiled and shook his head at that. So like my William...

"What sort of woman was Will's mother?"

Could it be Lizzie feels a tad edgy about another woman in Will's life? Or is she just taking a wifely interest? Buggered if I know.

"Peggy was nice enough, and anyone could see she was fond of both the Williams."

Nice enough, aye, but ordinary. Never understood what all the fuss was about, which was exactly what certain people used to say to me about William: 'What do you see in Bill, Jack? He's so ordinary.' Now there's irony.

"That's it? That's all you remember about her?"

"Pretty much. He only went back the once after that—not for want of trying, mind."

The Pearl was making too much of a name by then to risk her in Bristol, but we'd picked up that nice little cutter rounding Finisterre. I was captain by this time, and I waited with the main ship off of Saint-Malo. None too happy about it neither.

"You'd remember that visit clearly, no doubt, young Will. You must've been six or seven."

"Yes. I do."

I swear, I couldn't have looked more miserable about it myself. Not a joyful family moment, evidently, which is why I refrained from biting his priggish little head off for what followed.

"Don't take this badly, Jack, but I simply can't picture him kissing us goodbye, and then going straight to your bunk on the ship. From what I saw of him, I mean: it just doesn't seem right."

Oh, he was William's whelp, no doubt about that! Didn't think a lie would stick, so it had to be the truth—but a carefully calculated dose.

"He'd not let me touch him after Peggy, not till he were ready. Passing the harbour bar he called it. 'Reckon we've passed the bar now, Jack,' he'd say, maybe a couple of nights after England slipped below the horizon. Then he'd put his arms round me and he was mine again. Simple as that."

Ha!

"Didn't you mind at all?"

"Course not, Lizzie. One cold, clammy little island inside the bar, and the entire bright, beautiful ocean outside. What manner of a fool do you take me for?"

Ah, but the bloody thing shifted, didn't it? No call to be telling them about that.

"We was happy. 'S all there is to tell, really. Not always easy, what with me making navigator, second mate, captain. But William handled it well and the crew settled soon enough. We were alright. Better."

Best finish it quick and not get tangled in the perfidious details.

"The mutiny came so fast there was no time for William to help me. He kept his head down, out of harm's way, but he brought me water whenever it was safe."

I may have gone a bit overboard with the next one, although it seemed to please young Will and Elizabeth.

"He'd've come to the island with me, of course, only I talked him out of it—better to have a friend still on the Pearl, or so I thought. Reckoned I'd need him there when I came back for her. I can still see the look on his face watching me walk the bloody plank..."

Aye, I can see it right enough, and it still makes me... Which I hadn't reckoned with, not after everything. Thought I'd dried any tears years since but, what with young Will there all compassionate and distressed, it was like seeing my William over again, only as he should have looked. So I had to cover, didn't I?

"Course, I was too late, years too late!" Very tragic, I made it. "Didn't know it'd take so bloody long. Was years before I heard what that pox-ridden shark rapist, Barbossa, did to my William..."

Oh, the tears were real. I'd not let anyone see that if I had a choice. Not even to have dear, sweet Will and Elizabeth hugging me and making a fuss over me as if I'd done something brave. Elizabeth brought me rum, bless her, which is as great a wonder as any I've seen, and I've seen a few. So I was sufficiently fortified to regain my dignity.

"Didn't expect William to go all noble neither and aggravate bloody Barbossa like that. Reckon he must've slipped that cursed medallion into one of his regular parcels home. That way, the others wouldn't suspect nothing."

Which set us nicely on a heading for the medallion, the curse and Will's inheritance, leaving that night's betrayal, the mutiny, and the rest of it to fall away astern. I keep my maps in my head these days, but I've not lost my navigational skills.

Young Will nodded. "It was the last packet he sent. My mother always wondered why there was no letter with it, just my name on a square of paper round the medallion."

So that was how he did it. Did he guess it would be the last one?

"Aye, well, he could write 'William Turner' on his own, couldn't he? It being his name and all."

That came over a bit harsh, maybe, but we'd made port and it was child's play to bring us into a cheerful locale. I gave the lad my best idiot smile.

"Turned out handy you being named after him, eh? Had you been named Cornelius, say, or... Abelard—merely a random example, of course—your Ma wouldn't have known to keep the Aztec gold for you. She might have spent it on something useful, in which case we'd none of us be sitting here now."

That got them started on how they met, how Will's ship might never have been attacked and sunk but for the medallion, how he might have sailed on to Nassau instead of Port Royal, and so on and so forth. I let them do most of the talking.

So now the children have gone off to bed and left old Jack to drink by the fire and think on lost love. It's just you and me, William.

Can you hear me down there on the Dutchman? I'm thinking you can. I know I'd hear you, if you... No...

Good rum this, though.

If you can, I'm hoping you don't mind, eh? Got the distinct impression you were past minding anything very much once Davy got his clammy tentacles into you, although I did fancy I saw a flutter of interest when I mentioned young Will.

Just in case any of this still matters to you, I can honestly say, hand on heart, that I gave it my best shot. Never meant to tell them any of it; you know that. But they didn't leave me much choice, eh? Some of it was true and some of it maybe should've been.

Too flowery for you at the end there, I don't doubt, but I had to account for the tears, didn't I? No harm in doing what I could to pretty things up a bit. No sense having them think ill of either of us, eh? And frankly, when I was tied to the mast there, a cup or two of water wouldn't have gone amiss.

As a matter of fact, if you ask me—and I do notice you don't—I contrived an engaging little narrative to bring us all safely past what, you have to admit, were some decidedly treacherous shoals. No accusation intended.

Could be really rather pleased with myself if I weren't so damn tired.

You'd tell it different, I don't doubt. Well, you're more than welcome to come here and do that. Any time.

You know where to find us.


The End