"Aye, if we're to go we need to get aboard," concurred Will, likewise shifting slightly to move closer to Elizabeth. The move was almost unconscious. He turned briefly to scan the quiet town behind him. No trouble, but only one person needed to see Elizabeth for them to be found out.

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(I have a question. The crew and Jack are together? or are they at somewhere else?)

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Will be going to London on March of the 30th

((Well, they will be shortly. The crew is still aboard the Pearl, which is where Jack, Will, and Liz will be heading as soon as LDM posts...))

"Ah, the Pearl," Jack conceded with a tip of his precious tricorne. He tapped his chin as though at utter loss for direction. At length he voiced another "ah" and sauntered off the docks, headed for a rocky promontory outside of Port Royal.

Never sparing a glance over his shoulder, he skirted the fortified walls at a pace leisurely enough to make any vigilant sentry itch to shoot him. Fortunately for him, fog shrouded the shoreline and vigilant sentries were nonexistent. The promontory obscured their view of Port Royal, so everyone with the exception of Jack Sparrow relaxed their guard as they descended the headland to the rocky terrace. To the relief of all, Jack did pick up his pace, gingerly picking his way among the boulders. They were all out of breath by the time they reached the sheltered cove harboring the Black Pearl.

"Welcome to m'ship," he introduced with a touch of pride, gesturing extravagantly and unnecessarily at the anchored vessel. Marching out to the edge of the water, he began untying a dubious rowboat.

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Will followed, habitually scanning the smooth moonlit waters outside the cove for any disturbance. The Pearl looked the same as ever, if slightly weather-beaten, and he firmly beat down the impulse of relief upon reaching to climb from the rowboat onto the deck. This was temporary, nothing more. A few months and they'd be back in Port Royal, happily married, with thoughts of the sea behind them.

Will pretended to himself that this didn't spawn feelings of wistfulness, and offered Elizabeth a hand up.

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Elizabeth accepted Will's hand and climbed up onto the deck as well, doing her best to not consider the circumstances under which she'd last been brought aboard this ship. Barbossa had been dead for months now, and his crewmen were all either waiting to be hung or already dead, but the memories remained firmly implanted in her mind. She still vividly remembered the terror of first discovering the pirates' curse, how she had screamed and futilely attempted to run from it. Remarkable how much a few months could change someone, she mused, looking up at the newly-repaired sails of the Black Pearl. Only a matter of months ago, she had dreamed of adventure and meeting pirates, but had also known that realistically such occurences were not for people like her. And yet here she stood, on the deck of an infamous pirate ship, dressed like a sailor, preparing to leave behind all that was familiar for the sake of adventure and money. And she couldn't wait.

Well, almost everything familiar, she corrected herself, looking up at Will. A brief glance downward revealed that not only had she not yet released his hand, she was grasping it rather tightly. Blushing slightly, she quickly removed her hand from his and shot him a quick apologetic grin. Alright, so I might be a little nervous as well...

The waxing gibbous moon gleamed on the black waters as Jack silently steered the rowboat out of the cove. The ship's black hull and sails blended seamlessly with the velvety night. A single lamp - a bright star in a sea of darkness - burning on its rail was the only signal fire, and even that could be doused at the slightest danger.

As he strained with the oars, Jack glanced obliquely at his two new recruits. A wry grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. He needed them again, or at least needed the excellent smithing skills of one. The gullible William and the lovely Elizabeth. Ta.

At last the rowboat knocked gently against the Pearl's hull. Someone threw a rope ladder down, and Jack seized the legs and began climbing. He vaulted onto his ship's familiar deck and announced imperiously to the gathered crew members. "The Captain 'as returned. An' look who I've brought as dinner guests, savvy?"

The crew members, having not been fully informed of this mission, stood and gawked like landed fish. Sparrow's haughty expression swiftly turned to anger. "Ye mongrels! This is how we treat said guests, eh? Off with ye! Set the table! Fetch the tablecloth! An' the rum, don't ye be forgetting the rum! Hustle, hustle, I want movement!"

There happened to exist no dinner table aboard the ship, but the startled crew nonetheless stumbled over themselves in their manic quest to find one.

Jack grinned in satisfaction and barked at Will over his shoulder, "Mr. Turner. A word with ye below deck if ye please."

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Will nodded to Gibbs, and with this greeting repeated to miscellaneous other crew members who tipped their hats to the young blacksmith, followed Jack downstairs.

The Pearl was the same as ever, he reflected upon descending, hand resting out of habit on the wire-wrapped hilt of his sword. Jack, too, was little different, and the crew were the same motley assortment of vagabonds that they had always been. Will caught him relaxing. This was temporary, he told himself irritably for the second or third time.

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Unfortunately for the unwitting Mr. Turner, Jack Sparrow had other definitions for the word "temporary." Complacent now that the fly was in the web, he made a show of rummaging through the cargohold, muttering something about a sketchy thing, when he found it carelessly tossed among an assortment of empty rum bottles.

"Now how in the world did ye get here?" His frown shifted from the folded piece of cloth in his hand to the pile of bottles. His mind came up blank. "Must 'ave been the monkey," he concluded, curling his lip in disgust. Sketchy thing in hand, he sauntered back over to Will and plopped down on an overturned crate.

He met the inquiry in Will's eyes with a grin that fairly reeked of conspiracy. "This, dear William, is the key to yer destiny." Anticipation surmounting, he handed the folded cloth to the blacksmith. Once unfolded, he'd find a detailed sketch of a gem-enstudded chalice.

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Will unfolded the piece of ragged cloth, one eyebrow fractionally raised. He surveyed the said sketch of said gem-encrusted chalice, and after doing so a moment looked up at Jack with an expression that could be described as skeptically incredulous.

"Funny," he said in response, "it looks like a chalice."

Waiting for an explanation, and knowing he wouldn't get one, Will handed the drawing back and looked at Jack calculatingly.

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"Perhaps the reason it looks like a chalice is because it physically, inescapably, gramatically is a chalice," Sparrow replied sardonically. He made no move to tuck the sketchy thing away, instead spreading it out on an overturned crate between them. Leaning into the ship's rhythmic rocking motion, he traced a finger down the edge of the cloth. That same finger traced the intricate patterns of enstudded gems. An all too familiar grin waxed.

No one caught in the tempest of that grin had ever escaped with sanity fully intact.

He leaned in ever closer until Will could enjoy the unalloyed resplendence of his fragranced breath. "Mr. Turner... do ye think ye 'ave the skill necessary t'forge said chalice?"

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Will examined the drawing with the practiced eye he'd developed over almost a decade of apprenticeship. And most of the work he'd done himself. Aye, he could forge it. The gems needed, as well as the materials, would cost no trifling amount, but he had the necessary skills.

But first to make sure he did not walk blindly into a potentially incriminating situation. "Why," he started, surveying Jack intently, "do you need this chalice?"

He must be more careful than he had been in the past. His future - his future with Elizabeth - depended on not rushing headlong into things he couldn't backtrack from.

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Mustache twitching, Jack withdrew and made a face. He cocked his head, considering how best to utilize his uncanny gift of persuasion - in all innocence of course. At length he dragged his crate over next to Will's and laid an amicable hand on the blacksmith's shoulder.

"William, m'lad," he began, making interesting gesticulations with his free hand. "There comes a time in a man's life when one must sacrifice all for a single... purpose." He spread his fingers and threw out his arm as though picturing a grand vision. "Freedom," he breathed, his voice husky with passion. "Yer dolly belle. All the gold in the Caribbean, mate." He straightened to look Will in the face. "Savvy?"

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Will was on the point of asking how forging this mentioned chalice would earn him all the gold in the Caribbean - and Elizabeth, though she needed no earning, it was her father - but decided against it. Jack would no doubt essay off on some haphazard tale that would do nothing but avoid the question. He surveyed the irrepressible pirate a moment longer, and again scrutinized the scrap on which was sketched this elaborate cup.

"Right. Where'll I forge this, then?"

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"Ah." Jack's expression brightened as though Will had just played him for a guru. He swept the sketchy thing up and pocketed it, then straightened to his feet. The ship's rhythmic rocking nearly sent him careening into a pile of crates, but Captain Jack Sparrow's amazing intuition of balanced forces kept him from disgracing himself. "But that is the question we all ask ourselves, eh, Mr. Turner?" he asked in cavalier tones. "Where t'forge this impeccably meritorious chalice when we don't 'ave the necessary leverage t'forge said chalice?"

Tortuga. But the unwitting Mr. Turner didn't need to know that.

Jack flashed a roguish grin and let the inquiry hang. Confusing William was almost as fun as stealing rum from Mr. Gibbs. In fact, he rather liked confused William better. The eunuchy soprano asked less questions that way. Sparrow turned and scrambled back up the ladder. Above decks, he found Joshamee Gibbs and sauntered by, whispering in the man's ear as he passed, "Set sail in the general you-know-what direction."

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Elizabeth stood impatiently near the top of the stairs, straining to catch as much of the conversation as she could. She hadn't necessarily been uninvited, but she'd received the impression that this business was between Jack and Will only, and so she'd chosen to remain on the deck. This did not, however, mean that she couldn't eavesdrop to her heart's content.

Suddenly, Jack was back on deck, followed closely by Will. As the former brushed past her, she grabbed a hold of her fiance's arm and pulled him aside. "Will, what exactly is Jack going on about now?" she asked quietly.