Pirates of the Caribbean 6: Hoist the Colours

The Proof of Truth

 Pushing the oars, ripples of water knocked against the moldy stilts of a humble, creaking shack. Warm light washing from the windows made the entire marsh glow, and we all knew without speaking that we were in the right place. A tall man with broad shoulders and a dark silhouette stood by the door, teetering his weight against the ladder which led to the door as if he was waiting for Tia Dalma to return. His head moved back and forth, confused.

Perking from my restful position, Jack's rested arm moving with me, I turned to glance at Tia.

"Who is that?"

"Em not sure, lovely." She winked and raised an eyebrow. "Who es dis?"

A calming trickling came as the oars were lifted slowly to a halt, water cascading from them back into the stale marsh. I heard humming for only an instant before feeling breath against my neck, knowing who it was before they even sang.

"...We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot. Drink up me 'hearties, yo ho."

Another meaningless clue from none other than the keeper of the Codex.

I flipped around to look at Teague, agitated, but when my eyes aligned with his brown ones I got the distinct impression I shouldn't say a word.

"Is that my...father?"

Will straightened his seat, attempting to peer over the shadows to get a better view. At hearing this, I jolted from my comfortable position under Jack's arm and jerked my head towards the silhouette pointedly, flipping my rippled hair into Jack's face in the process.

"Why, it is Bootstrap!"

I bounded out of the boat and waded through the slush, my nice boots being tempted to be drug behind by the steady current. As I reached the familiar shack, embedded in the sturdy roots of a magnolia tree, my hands found the precarious ladder through the darkness.

"Bootstrap!" I yelled, seeing him peek over the other side of the platform which was her porch. "Pull me up!" Offering him a hand, he grasped it and yanked me to him, stopping for a moment to settle me in my stance before absorbing who was standing before him. His eyes stared into me blankly, baffled, until they focused and recognized.

"Why, it's the pirating lass Olivia Stafford!" He let out a joyous chuckle as I grasped him around the neck roughly, pulling him into a hug. He lifted me off of my feet, swinging me loosely before plopping me back on the porch.

"My very best mate, look at ya! I haven't seen ya in so many moons." He scoffed, smiling and shaking his head slowly. "Leave it to you to look better now than ya did thirty years ago, aye?"

I laughed and looked down from his face, knowing that it was polite to tell someone they looked good as well after hearing it yourself, but it being hard for me to be dishonest. I didn't like seeing my mate this way.

His hair hung from his head in long, dead strands. His right eyelid drooped, a scar wrapping around his temple where a starfish used to be. I remembered it well from my visits on the Dutchman; I almost would have rather seen him with all the mollusks and growth on him than see the dreadful scars and pocs where they used to be, leaving him skinny and dreadfully blue.

"Well, what can I say? The spells of a mystic voodoo woman can do wonders." He let out a laugh at my comment and I looked deep into his eyes, trying to look past the deep bags and crevices underneath them and into the man I used to know. He smiled.

Suddenly, I felt a loose hand snake around my waist.

"I thought I was your best mate," I looked to my right, seeing a conniving smirk from Jack digging into Bootstrap.