Pirates of the Caribbean Oneshots

Bill Turner

Sitting back in the chair, Edward Teague glanced at the list on the tavern table in front of him. "A dozen, we ain't doing too badly at all," he murmured to the man sitting next to him.

His quartermaster nodded in agreement. "Whether or not they'll be any use is another thing entirely, but we'll have to wait and see." He raised a bottle to his lips, glancing around briefly.

Teague cracked his knuckles thoughtfully, noticing a figure heading through the people towards their table.

"You signing on crew?"

"Aye. Captain Teague, of the Troubadour lookin' for men to join me in high-seas piracy." He saw no point in disguising the ship's purpose, as most people guessed it as soon as he said his name.

The man was quiet for a minute, fiddling with the cuffs of his coat. He exhaled slowly, seemingly coming to a decision as he looked at the paper he was to sign.

He picked up the quill. "William Turner, though most call me Bill."

Cormac studied him from his seat beside Teague, eyes slightly narrowed. He tapped the paper, his meaning clear.

William Turner made his mark underneath those already there, his gaze flickering to Teague.

"Ever sailed before?"

"No sir."

"That's alright, doin' its the only way you'll learn, we'll soon get you up to speed. You'll have articles to sign onboard. Come onto the Troubadour at some point tomorrow afternoon, she's a big galleon docked in the harbour, flyin' green and gold colours, you can't miss her."

Relevant information given, Teague waved a hand in a clear gesture of dismissal, though his eyes tracked William Turner as he walked away.

"He, I think, might be of some use," he murmured to Cormac.

Cormac nodded slightly. "Aye, I think you might be right."

Of the fourteen new crew that had signed on, two were dead within a fortnight of leaving the port. One had fallen from the topsail yard while taking in sails, dead upon impact with the deck. The other had met his end under the knives of the ship's doctor for one vulgar comment too many.

William Turner kept to himself, quiet and polite, and eager to learn. He had been initially surprised by two things, the first being his first proper look at his new captain in proper light.

Captain Teague was much younger than he had assumed, probably a good five or six years younger than Bill himself. The age difference made absolutely no difference, the captain's authority went unchallenged.

Bill found himself wondering how he had managed to earn such unquestioned command. He was by no means the oldest crewmember on the ship, on the contrary, very few appeared to be any younger than him. Somehow, he had gained control of a forty-gunned galleon, and a full crew for it.

Eventually, he approached the man. "Captain?"

"Mm?" Dark eyes flickered to him from under the brim of a feathered hat.

"Can I ask a question?"

"Go ahead."

He hesitated, wondering how to phrase the question. "How did you get this ship?"

Teague took a drink from a bottle that he produced from the pocket of his coat.
"I inherited it."

Bill cocked his head. "Inherited it?" he repeated.

"Mm. It was left to me by...a mentor, who was childless. The ship was nearly new when I got it, as the man had retired from active piracy shortly after gettin' her." His gaze dropped briefly to his hands as he corked the bottle again before pocketing it.

"He must have been fond of you."

Teague shrugged. "He never gave any indication of being so when he was alive. I don't know what his reasoning was for leaving me everything he owned, other than havin' no family to leave it to."

Bill looked his captain over curiously, noticing that he wore a wedding ring.
"Someone tied you down already?" He asked lightly, indicating the ring.

"That's an awful way to look at marriage. I do have someone, aye, who for the record is usually here with me, but is currently on her own ship, where I can also be found a fair bit of the time."

"Your wife has a ship?"

"Mm hm. It was mine, I gave it to her when I got this one. Is there a reason for your sudden curiosity into my personal life, Mr. Turner?"

A slight flush appeared on Bill's cheeks. "Just...just thought you were awful young to be a captain, specially of a big impressive ship like this."

Teague looked the ship over briefly. "I was born on, and spent most of my childhood, on a ship. My father died when I was seventeen, left me his ship. I went to sea, as a captain, shortly before my eighteenth birthday. My last name helped with gaining a crew in my homeplace and I already had the knowledge of how a ship was run, so I just had to put it into practice. Started on a twenty-four gunned frigate with about three dozen crew, now I'm here."

"That must've taken hard work."

"Aye. Speakin' of work, I have a course to plot and you have topsails to raise on my mizzenmast. Get to it."

Bill nodded, going to do as ordered while Teague went to his cabin.

He came out again a while later, giving instructions to the helmsman, who did as told.

Finding himself idle, Bill had been staring out to sea, but now found his gaze inexplicably back to his new captain.

In the end, he didn't stay very long aboard the Troubadour, but his memories of the ship and it's captain remained some of his fondest from his time at sea.

Years later, finding himself once again looking for a new berth, he wandered into a tavern in Tortuga where someone was apparently signing on sailors. Standing in the centre of the room with a bottle in his hand, was a man who immediately struck Bill as different from the other captains he'd been sailing with lately.

A tricorn hat sat at an angle on his head, keen, clever dark eyes scanning the crowd from underneath it. Clean-shaven, with long hair tied back, the man couldn't have been much older than thirty, his lean frame clothed in a plain dark brown coat over a blue waistcoat and white shirt.

Something about him was immediately familiar, though Bill couldn't place what it was. As he was standing trying to figure it out, the fellow's gaze landed on him.

"You looking to join a crew?"

"I am." Bill nodded. "Who's crew will I be joining?"

A ring glittered on his finger as he doffed his hat. "Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service. Who might you be?"

"Bill Turner. Say, this is probably a long shot, but are you related to a Roxanne Sparrow by any chance?"

"Yeah I am. Why?" Suspicion clouded Jack's gaze as he took a long swallow from his bottle.

Bill straddled a chair, facing Jack. "Because I sailed under her husband for about nine months...must be near thirty years ago, now."

For some reason, this news made the younger man grin as he extended a hand to Bill.

"Welcome aboard the Black Pearl, Mr Turner."