There must be a reason that Jack Sparrow is so unphased by the supernatural. Perhaps its that he's been so exposed to it in his time on the Black Pearl, that even zombie pirates can no longer impre...
Said captain was perched on a rail, overlooking the sea as if the waves would inform him themselves. Occasionally he would glance down at his compass and sigh, reaching back and tugging at the rudder wheel, murmuring nonsense tunes to no one in particular. He seemed cheerfully unconcerned about his crew's mood as, indeed, he was. He needn't fear mutiny or disgruntled sailors; after all, he was captain Jack Sparrow.
"Are we any closer, cap'n?" Bill cocked his head towards Jack without lifting his eyes to him.
It wasn't that he didn't trust him. In fact, he did so implicitly. Strangely, more than any other captain he'd served under before. Even the more conventional ones. There was something about the pirate that inspired faith. If asked, Bootstrap would have followed him to the ends of the earth.
It seemed they might be heading there now, in any case.
"Aye," murmured Jack, then raised his voice and repeated, "Aye! Indeed we are. At least we ought to be. Can't keep on sailing forever, eh?" He grinned cheekily, gold teeth glinting, then swung his legs over the railing and stood. "What's the sea look like to you?" He gestured vaguely out at the waves, calm after the storm, but still occasionally floating things stirred by the wind that didn't belong on open seas.
"I wonder... The sea?" Bill pressed into the meaning of his question, leaning back against the ship and giving a deeper smile. Despite the situation, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sensation of hope. He knew they'd find it, he just wasn't sure when, where or how.
Jack looked confused for a moment, tilting his head and looking at Bill. "No. I mean, yes, of course, but don't you see it?" He gestured again, more urgently. "The sea's getting golden!" It wasn't really, in a literal sense, but it made perfect sense to him to say it. It never really occurred to Jack that what made sense to him made sense to no one else. He thought his crew was just stubborn when they wouldn't listen to his Pearl. "We're gettin' closer."
"I thought it was just the chest that contained the gold." Bill leaned forward, setting his elbows on his knees and looking out at the water, just to be sure he couldn't see the gold itself tilting the water. Like that tale his mum used to tell him, of the king who wished for golden fingers, or some silly thing.
Yet, with all the things he'd seen thus far on the Pearl, he wouldn't be surprised if they met the royal, really.
"Island's made of gold, too, then, Jack?"
"Doesn't mean the sea won't show us the way." Jack absently patted the rudder, hardly aware that he'd done it, and stared absently at the horizon ahead. "And it might as well be, if CortÃ©z's gold is as bountiful as said. An island made o' gold; now there's some swag worth finding."
He grinned again, tugging his tricorne over his eyes a bit. The sun was sharpening, sending malicious little daggers through Jack's mind. Felt like a hangover; he couldn't imagine why.
"Aye," Bill muttered to himself, visions of his wife and child living at least in mild luxury. Or somewhere out of that hovel he'd left them in a year or two before. "Something to really settle a man down on."
Standing for a stretch, the pirate walked with half-stiff legs to his captain, leaning out over the rails to join him for a look. Wondering vaguely if the land would just sprout up off the horizon if he willed it. After a few moments, he turned to him.
"Still got a ways to go, Jack, don't we? Why don't we pull up port for a while and let the men recover... let 'em take care of the Pearl a bit, 'fore some other storm hits her."
"Eh? She handled last night fine; nothing to worry about if we run into another storm, is there?" Jack broke into a fond smile. "The Pearl can handle whatever you throw at her, not to worry."
In a flash of rare insight, Jack considered that Bill might have meant something else all together. He could actually be sincere with his concern about the crew, and well, rested men worked better than tired men, even Jack had to allow. "Oh, right. Recovering. Yes," he murmured reluctantly, then looked somewhat wretched. "Could you fetch Barbossa to take her over and I'll go down n' look for a port, eh?"
"It's around here, Jack. We can come back." Bill stretched once more, feeling his knees crack beneath him and one along his spine. He gave the captain a friendly slap on the back and ambled down the stairs in search of the first mate.
Jack sighed and slumped over the wheel. "Right, right..." He - well, to be honest - pouted and looked out at the sea. "What do you say, girl? A bit of a rest for you too? The storm did a number on your sails." For a moment he was silent, then broke into a sunny smile and patted the rudder. "Aye. I'll see if we can't find a cat for the ratties."