The Voodoo Doll (Take Two)


By WriterFromWardrobe

Word count: 1531

Rating: PG

Summary: Henry and Carina’s first child is expected any day.

Image credit: Disney

In my earlier fanfic, The Voodoo Doll, I explained how Carina could have been Jack and Angelica’s daughter. Having now seen PotC: DMTNT, however, I learned that it has only been five years since Jack and Angelica parted ways – clearly not enough time for Carina to have grown up. Therefore, this is my new imagining on how a child of Jack’s could show up.

I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean.


“Ooh!” Carina screamed, buckling over in her chair, hands on her protruding stomach. Her three companions ceased their leisurely conversation to give her their full attention. The Turner family would often take chairs out of the lighthouse on clear Sunday afternoons, when Will was not working in the village blacksmith shop and Henry was not running errands at the docks. On this particular day, Carina and her husband had stayed behind while his parents went for a short stroll along the clifftops, on account that Carina was expected to have her and Henry’s first child any day. No sooner had Will and Elizabeth returned from their walk than Carina let out a cry of pain.

Henry turned to his wife with wide eyes. Carina mumbled, “It’s time,” but it was hardly necessary. Elizabeth had already grabbed Carina’s arm, assisting her from the chair and into the house.

“Get some hot water and linens!” Although this had been directed at Henry, Will took the initiative, hurrying into the house after his wife and daughter-in-law to build a fire in the kitchen hearth. Henry, meanwhile, stared at the lighthouse door, frozen in place. Will could not help chuckling at his son, thinking how he probably would have stood like that when Elizabeth had gone into labor with Henry. Alas, he had not been there when Henry had been born; he had not known that he even had a son until Henry was nearly ten years old.

At length, Henry stumbled into the house. By that point, the water was bubbling and Elizabeth had emptied the linen closet. No matter where Henry stepped, he seemed to be in his parents’ way. When he did finally make it to the downstairs bedroom, Carina only screamed at him to get out.

Thoroughly out of sorts, Henry staggered back into the kitchen. Seeing this, Elizabeth told Will to take Henry out for a walk, saying that she had everything under control. Thus, Will clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder and directed him into the afternoon sunlight.

For Will to realize that he had not been there for his wife when she had brought Henry into this world had been hard. For Henry to not be wanted was more difficult. The young man was jittery and could not get out a coherent sentence.

“What if…well, why wouldn’t she…I suppose…but that’s the…you don’t think it would…do you…no, I don’t think it…well, it could…what if it takes after Barbossa?”

Will laughed, but Henry continued speaking in his frenzied state. “What if I’m…I mean…it’s not like I know…then how do I…well, she might know what to say…do you think I would be any good?”

Will glanced at his son, realizing that Henry was afraid that he would make a terrible parent; he did not know much about what a father was like.

By now, the two had wandered down to the beach, and Henry seemed more worked up than ever, with his hands shaking and hardly being able to walk straight. Will had finally grown tired of listening to his son’s garbled fears, and he suddenly shoved Henry into the waves.

Henry came up sputtering, salt water pouring from his mouth, and a stray strand of seaweed across his forehead.

“What did you do that for?”

“Finally, the first full sentence you’ve said!”

Henry staggered to his feet in the slick, wet sand. He was about to frown at his father when he espied some debris in the water – broken bits of timbers, torn canvas, a couple of busted crates. A smashed barrel rolled in the shallows, and Henry gasped when he noticed the small white hand dangling out of the barrel’s interior.

Henry ran past his father, with Will giving chase just as soon as he caught sight of his son’s distress. Henry pulled the rum barrel onto shore, staring at the six- or seven-year-old boy cradled inside.

Will hauled the boy out. The Spanish-looking tyke blinked and lapsed back into unconsciousness, but at least the men were assured that the boy lived.

“There must have been a shipwreck,” Henry mused, scanning the open sea as he and his father returned to the lighthouse. “But that seems unlikely in daylight.” He stared up at the lighthouse; it had been his and his mother’s duty to keep the light burning at night and during storms. The people of the village had at first thought ill of a woman lighthouse keeper, but in time everyone claimed that she kept a weather eye on the horizon. Now, here was a mysterious wreck right at their doorstep.

“We’ll have to go out and look for more survivors, and see if there’s anything left of the ship,” Henry added, holding the door open for his father who was carrying the boy.

Once inside the house, Henry became aware of a crying noise, but it did not sound like that of a baby.

Elizabeth stepped out of the bedroom from where Carina’s sobs echoed. Her face was tearstained as she met her son’s gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Henry gasped under his breath, rushing to his wife’s room.

Elizabeth glanced over at Will, and for the first time she noticed the child in his arms. She instantly stepped over to them, her eyes full of curiosity. Will gently laid the boy on the settee, and he and his wife began inspecting and tending to the youngster’s minor cuts and bruises. When Elizabeth went to wash a scrape on his forearm, she realized he was clinging tightly to what appeared to be a clump of rags. Prying them from his hand, she noted that it was a ratty, beaten-up doll in pirate’s grab – very familiar pirate’s garb.

Will’s eyes widened when he saw the toy in his wife’s hand. “That looks like Ja–”

Elizabeth cut him off with a glare and stuffed the doll in her pocket.

“What are you doing?” Will questioned.

“The same as I did for you on my way to Port Royal.”


A few days later, Carina awoke to a scuttling noise at the foot of her bed. She opened her eyes to the sunlit bedroom, realizing it must be well after eight o’clock. She had always been an early riser, but that habit had declined in recent months. Still, that did not mean she woke up in a good mood if she slept in. Not seeing anyone, Carina lifted her head, carefully sitting up. She had not had the strength to leave her bed in days, so getting up was an exhausting task at that moment. She expected to find Henry digging through their dresser, trying to be quiet as not to wake her. She had not allowed him in their room, so it stood to reason he would finally be in need of a fresh pair of clothes.

What she saw instead was a dark-haired boy playing with her pocket watch, shaking it, trying to make the hands spin. Carina frowned. “Put that down and leave, you little tyrant!”

The boy glanced up and hurriedly set down the timepiece. As he dashed from the room he tripped over a foot stool and landed on the floor with a loud smack. Tears were instantly in his eyes, and Carina was on the floor next to him.

“Oh, I’m sorry for being cross,” she apologized. “Where does it hurt?” Her eyes played over his multitude of scars and bruises, wondering how he had come by them all. The child said nothing, dark eyes regarding Carina. He stared at her dark hair for a long time before reaching out and touching one of her curls. She wondered if his mother, or perhaps an older sister, had black curls like hers. “What’s your name?” she asked.

The boy continued to say nothing, then he smiled like one who has remembered something exciting. Carina smiled back.

It did not take long for the rest of the Turner family to become aware of Carina’s fondness for the silent child, whom she had taken to calling Hector. The boy did not appear to be deaf, always responding to his new name, but never protesting that he was once called something else.

Henry had a huge grin on his face as he watched his wife play tag with the boy. “It’s the best thing that could have happened for both her and that child. They say in the village that the ship’s magazine must have blown up; there were no other survivors.”

Will and Elizabeth tensed; they had heard that story before. They did not say anything as Henry walked out the lighthouse door to join Carina and Hector, then they shared an uneasy look. Their adventures with pirates seemed far from over.


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