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The nearer they come to Tia Dalma, the worse it gets for Elizabeth. At the mouth of the river, she vomits over the side of the boat while Ragetti holds gingerly to the tail of her hair and the rest of the men pretend to find the shoreline of vast interest. Will runs the tip of his father's knife along the fingerprints of his left hand and does not look at her, but he can feel when she begins to shake.
The witch-woman's drink, which tastes like rum flavored with bitter herbs, sits well enough until Barbossa appears; and then he knows her stomach churns as surely as if it were his own. At the earliest possible opportunity she disappears to the rickety porch. Will nods to Gibbs before he follows.
Though Elizabeth shivers in her light clothing, soaked leather hangs close and heavy on him.
"Ah, there we are," says Jack with satisfaction, shaking out a dusty leather coat from a trunk filled with swag. "'Tis a poor fit on me, but it ought to suit you, and a gentleman ought not to go about in his shirtsleeves."
Will, fingering an ink-stained map on the captain's table, frowns at this, but takes the proffered garment nonetheless. Jack slides behind him as he shrugs it on, smoothing hands over his shoulders before slapping one.
"Aye, you look a dandy," he says with cocked head and critically narrowed eyes, stroking the sharp angles of his chin.
"Thank you, Jack," Will says, flexing his arms, pleased at the weight of it and the fanciful lapels. If he's to be hanged as a pirate, or at least a pirate's accomplice, he figures he might as well look the part. Jack makes a non-committal noise and turns away, the grin fading from his face as he reaches out to touch an unmarked island on the map.
When Will thinks of Jack these days he thinks of an odd-shaped piece rightly restored in its puzzle, but there is something out of place about him now -- something off beneath his quick, bright speech; behind the glances exchanged amongst the crew. If there are cards hidden from Will's gaze, he must have at least a glance, for Elizabeth's sake.
"Jack?" He touches Jack's elbow, and the captain tries to mask his flinch by rubbing at a last spot of paint on his cheek. "Is there something wrong on the Pearl? You seem --"
"Nothing wrong," says Jack, fiddling with his compass. Will takes it from him and places it on the table, staring him down until at last Jack meets his eyes.
Will blinks, expecting to see wheels turning and twisting. But Jack's eyes are as flat as a calm sea.
"Leave it lie, William," he says in a low, rough voice. "Captain's orders."
"I'm not --" Will starts to say, but just then Gibbs calls for their heading, and Jack excuses himself with compass in hand and a far too familiar pat to the small of Will's back. The offense, and the bustle abovedecks, and the supple stretch of his new coat distracts Will from questioning him further.
Elizabeth stands with her arms wrapped around herself, looking out over Tia Dalma's swampy domain. She lowers her head at Will's step behind her and starts when he drops the coat over her slim shoulders, every muscle tensed. After long, silent moments she relaxes beneath his hands and a hitching sigh escapes her lips. Will bends forward to touch his brow to her tangled hair, then turns to go back inside.