A Raven and a Sparrow
A Raven and a Sparrow: Part 4, Bootstrap Bill
Feeling as crisp and refreshed as ever, she jumped out of bed and filled the canteens with water. She placed them around her neck and went up on deck to hand them out. After she had finished, she rushed up to the helm, where Jack was turning the wheel slowly. “Do you need anything, captain?” she asked breathlessly. He looked down at her and grinned, his gold tooth gleaming. “Morn’. I sure could use some rum, if you wouldn’t mind, and call me Jack.” He turned the wheel some more. “Yes, capt- Jack.” She ambled down the stairs, giggling quietly to herself. It was only when she reached the deck that she realized she didn’t know where the rum was. She thought about asking Jack, but she wanted him to think highly of her. With a small step forward, she noticed one pirate taking a water break. One of his eyes was squinting, and there was a colorful parrot on his shoulder. “Do you know where the rum is kept?” she inquired.
The old man was silent, but his parrot squawked, “Wind in your sails! Wind in your sails!”
Mr. Gibbs, seeming to notice her dilemma, hurried over and said, “Sorry, miss. Cotton here is a mute. But I’ll show you where the rum is.”
He brought her to a small hatch in the center of the deck, which lead to the crew’s rest haven. She strolled through the hammocks with ease, but an eerie feeling passed over her and she neared the cellar door. Mr. Gibbs muttered, “Be careful.” and left. Annabeth slowly stepped inside and glanced around. On the wall was a small lantern, which she used to guide herself. With each step, she observed the musty cellar. Cobwebs hung from every corner, and there was a light fog hanging in the room. Annabeth spotted a cabinet with a single bottle of rum near the bottom. She pulled it out, but to her dismay, sand poured out of it.
“Who are you?” a voice asked suddenly. Annabeth screamed and dropped the bottle, but gained back her courage quickly and held the lantern up to examine the owner of the voice. Sitting on the barrel was a man with a black hat on. He had dark, stringy, hair, and his green tinted skin seemed downcast even with his inquiring expression. “Who are you?” he repeated, his eyes searching her. “Annabeth Raven,” she answered uncertainly. Seeming to pick up his unsatisfied aura, she continued, “I’m the new water boy aboard the Black Pearl.”
He studied her carefully, then said, “You look…no, never mind.” There was an awkward pause, and then Annabeth asked, “Who are you? And why are you here?” The man smiled. “I’m Bootstrap. Bill Turner. I’m here to talk to Jack.”
Surprised, Annabeth asked, “What business do you have with the captain?”
“My son, the captain of the Flying Dutchman, sent me to check up on Jack. See how he’s doing.”
Annabeth’s mouth dropped open. “Th-the Flying Dutchman?! It’s not real.”
Bootstrap Bill shook his head. “It’s as real as you and me.”
Stunned, Annabeth sat down on a barrel. Bootstrap asked, “So how’s old Jack doing?”
“He…he’s doing fine. Just let out to open sea.”
Bootstrap nodded. “Does he fancy you?”
Annabeth was taken aback. “No-well- I don’t- uh…”
Bootstrap chuckled to himself, and replied, “It’s growing late. I’d better return to the Dutchman.” He turned to leave, but, as if reading her thoughts, handed her a bottle of rum. He winked and disappeared. Annabeth, almost dropping the rum, gasped and reached out with her free hand to feel around for Bootstrap Bill. He was gone.
The old man was silent, but his parrot squawked, “Wind in your sails! Wind in your sails!”
Mr. Gibbs, seeming to notice her dilemma, hurried over and said, “Sorry, miss. Cotton here is a mute. But I’ll show you where the rum is.”
He brought her to a small hatch in the center of the deck, which lead to the crew’s rest haven. She strolled through the hammocks with ease, but an eerie feeling passed over her and she neared the cellar door. Mr. Gibbs muttered, “Be careful.” and left. Annabeth slowly stepped inside and glanced around. On the wall was a small lantern, which she used to guide herself. With each step, she observed the musty cellar. Cobwebs hung from every corner, and there was a light fog hanging in the room. Annabeth spotted a cabinet with a single bottle of rum near the bottom. She pulled it out, but to her dismay, sand poured out of it.
“Who are you?” a voice asked suddenly. Annabeth screamed and dropped the bottle, but gained back her courage quickly and held the lantern up to examine the owner of the voice. Sitting on the barrel was a man with a black hat on. He had dark, stringy, hair, and his green tinted skin seemed downcast even with his inquiring expression. “Who are you?” he repeated, his eyes searching her. “Annabeth Raven,” she answered uncertainly. Seeming to pick up his unsatisfied aura, she continued, “I’m the new water boy aboard the Black Pearl.”
He studied her carefully, then said, “You look…no, never mind.” There was an awkward pause, and then Annabeth asked, “Who are you? And why are you here?” The man smiled. “I’m Bootstrap. Bill Turner. I’m here to talk to Jack.”
Surprised, Annabeth asked, “What business do you have with the captain?”
“My son, the captain of the Flying Dutchman, sent me to check up on Jack. See how he’s doing.”
Annabeth’s mouth dropped open. “Th-the Flying Dutchman?! It’s not real.”
Bootstrap Bill shook his head. “It’s as real as you and me.”
Stunned, Annabeth sat down on a barrel. Bootstrap asked, “So how’s old Jack doing?”
“He…he’s doing fine. Just let out to open sea.”
Bootstrap nodded. “Does he fancy you?”
Annabeth was taken aback. “No-well- I don’t- uh…”
Bootstrap chuckled to himself, and replied, “It’s growing late. I’d better return to the Dutchman.” He turned to leave, but, as if reading her thoughts, handed her a bottle of rum. He winked and disappeared. Annabeth, almost dropping the rum, gasped and reached out with her free hand to feel around for Bootstrap Bill. He was gone.