Sparrow Obsession
Summary: Takes place two years after Sparrow's Bargain, when a new enemy endangers the pirates of the seven seas for a completely unexpected reason. Follow the drama, misunderstandings, adventures and complications that make up the everyday life of the Pirate King and his friends and crew. Sparrington and others.
The crowds were as silent as the grave when the big, heavy metal doors creaked open to let through the line of people with soldiers on either side escorting them into the main courtyard at Fort Charles in Port Royal, Jamaica. None dared utter a whisper as chains clanked and shackles dragged against the cold stone ground under tired, resigned and fearful feet whose owners weer far off than said appendages. Drums vibrated throughout the courtyard, making the sorrowful, horrible scene even more dramatic than was needed and churning more than one stomach.
For once, the crowds gathered around the gallows was not eager to see the hangings.
Yes, hangings. As in more than one. Public hangings without a trial first to ascertain that the condemned was truly guilty of any crimes that deserved this final punishment. The third in five days now. Men, old and young, women, children, all lined up like pigs for the slaughter, awaiting a noose, the 'short drop and sudden stop' so feared by all outlaws, no matter under which name they acted or called themselves. Even innocents at times were mingled with the criminals, boys and girls that had never done more wrong other than to listen to the adventures told by pirates or shared their blood and name. Each time, there was five lines of two dozen people, executed in groups of five. The first time had been a terrible surprise, since five children had been executed together, their mothers - not arrested that day but for the second execution - crying desperately their names, begging the soldiers to spare children. The oldest had been ten years old while the littlest was barely out of toddler-hood. They were executed with the same ropes that their fathers had hung from.
More than the mothers had cried and grieved when the young ones' necks snapped or they were suffocated, their legs stopping their kicking and wiggling. It was a horrifying sight and actually made people aware, for the very first time, just how cruel and horrifying their 'entertainment' was. Kids who had only the day before played with the damned were crying, infants were fussing and old men were cursing the soldiers, the Navy, the executioner and the condemner. The noise and the rebellion that had arose was quickly subdued and the very next day, the ones who had caused it were hanged with the next bout of pirates. The cries of loss drowned Port Royal and yet none of the marines or high society folk really cared.
All the people could do now was watch and silently weep at the new proceeding of pirates brought in. They were well aware that the two public executions they witnessed were not the only ones to have taken place, within this port or in any other. Merchants who had sailed in in the past week were spreading terrifying and blood-chilling stories about seeing sinking ships whose yardarms were decorated with hanging crewmen or witnessing passing Navy ships during an execution at sea, either by hanging or being shot right in front of their eyes. No one wanted to get the watch duty in the crows-nest anymore. Whoever stayed there for longer than an hour was bound to see something nightmarish in the distance. Not even the captains of their own vessels dared look through the telescope.
The proceeding of pirates and unfortunate people condemned for assisting them stopped in front of the gallows, staring at them with fear and resignation, yet with a certain air of defiance to their proudly raised heads. Even the women were glaring at the men leading them to their deaths and the 'judge' who had condemned them without any sort of a trail beforehand. The crowd, cowed as they were, could not help but admire the fire that still burned in their souls.
If they were ordinary folk, who relied on the law and its enforcers to keep them safe and bring about justice, had they been placed at the feet of their enemies, they would have spent heir last moments in despair, begging for their lives or praying to god for salvation or just staring listlessly at the floor with tears streaming down their faces. But pirates were a wholly different sort. They, despite whatever fear they felt, were not cowed with it. Pride surrounded them like a protective cloak, making them appear far more dignified than the gentlemen in their fancy suits or the soldiers in their crisp uniforms. The lowliest of whores stood more like a princess, a queen, a lady in these last moments than any of the noble born women watching with handkerchiefs over their mouths from the sidelines. Where anyone else would have lost hope for their own lives, these thieves, beggars, cutthroats, buccaneers - pirates - were holding onto the knowledge that they will be avenged, that their murderers will pay for their blood, that their souls will be held in honor by their fellow pirates and outlaws for the rest of time as victims for the greater good of the pirate way of life.
The pirates followed no law and obeyed no king, worked for no law and respected only the sea. Yet they knew, they knew, that there will be nine pirates who will avenge their deaths and stop further executions like these. If for no one else, then for the women and children who were dragged into this. They had something to believe in more material and far more approachable than vague gods and religions, far more human to believe in and they knew these humans will make these arrogant cruel bastards pay.
The Code demanded it.
The Brethren Court will demand it.
The Pirate King will enforce it, for every pirate knew what the new King thought on freedom and these pompous English noblemen.
They might die today, but they were ready for that. The pirate way of life had them prepared for it with every breath they took. They no longer even had to fear death thanks to their Pirate King, since they will be ferried to the other side safely wherever they die. But even if they do die now, they will still continue to live on through those who survive.
The pirate way of life will never die and they can proudly proclaim this in their last moments and be honored to have led that life.
One boy looked up from where he was climbing onto the gallows with his older sister - a proudly standing sixteen year old whore that was selling her body just to put food on the table and dress her little brother - a neighbor and two pirates they had once fed out of pity and his young gaze focused on the three men that stood to watch over the hangings while being surrounded by soldiers as their guards.
The one on the left was a pirate in looks and the way he held himself, yet it was now a widely known fact that he held a Letter of Marque which kept him safe from the noose as long as he helped the Englishmen. He was in his late forties but held himself great, as though he had just entered adulthood just yesterday. Time had been merciful on him ... Or he had not been a pirate for too long. Both were possibilities and very probable. He had long, curly black hair and skin darkened by his time at sea. His nose, chin and forehead were distinctively Spanish while his lips and cheekbones could have been either French or English, it was hard to say under the long scar marring half his face. He was the one helping the Englishmen on his left with whatever they were planning on achieving with these executions.
The man on the far right is the one they all feared and hated at the moment. Tall, old - in his seventies or early eighties, a miracle he looked so good and could still fight - with a handsome face weathered away by the tides of time and bitterness, a straight back and only a cane to indicate his age had any effects on him, dressed in admiral's clothing, he looked down upon them with hate and disgust, never showing glee at their deaths but also never considering them humans, either. In his eyes, they have learned, pirates are not people but mere savages whom he wanted to rid the world of. His cold green eyes sneered down his nose at them and he held no emotion whatsoever when he ordered each drop. The older pirates knew his face and his name, had once upon a time feared him. He should have been retired almost twenty years ago yet here he still was, hunting them down once again like he once used to.
And in between the traitor of the Code and the rehired retired Admiral stood a nobleman of English blood. He was fairly young, perhaps in his late twenties at best, with long light brown hair tied neatly in a small ponytail at the back of his nape, which was strange enough for him not to be wearing those stuffy powdered wigs, brown eyes twinkling with a strange light in the sun as he watched the proceedings with an air of half boredom and half anticipation. Those who lived long enough to see the last few moments of these executions, while they had the noose around their necks, have seen him pout like a spoiled child denied their favorite treat and carried that image with them to the other world in confusion. He was always dressed in fine clothing that would not impair his movements and was fairly simple in contrast to the outfits other noblemen saw fit to wear. Yet the simple elegance of his appearance made it clear he was indeed of higher and richer stature than them in society. His skin was only the slightest bit tanned, probably from his voyage to the Spanish Main, and he didn't look like a sailor although he was built as a fine swordsman would be. He was tall, almost as tall as Port Royal's own Commodore had been.
And in his hands he always carried a little leather-bound book, leafing through it while each hanging was prepared and often looking out at the horizon, as though searching for something.
He now met the little boy's - only eleven - gaze without any guilt or hesitation in his own before turning to speak with the pirate. "It absolutely must be sung?"
"Aye," the pirate replied as he stared at his fellow pirates down below without pity.
"Are you sure these uneducated lot will know it?" The nobleman asked again while the old Admiral sneered at their conversation.
"The King and his men
Stole the Queen from her bed
And bound her by her bones," all three men looked up when a small, delicate, young voice sang softly from down below. In a scary mimicry of the first time the song had been sang in Port Royal, it was the youngest on the gallows that had begun the song that all pirates were taught the second they turned to piracy and the little boy glared in defiance at his 'judges'. "The sea be ours
And by the powers
Where we will we'll roam."
"Aye, they know it. Every buccaneer and pirate and even privateer knows it, for it is the only protection us lot have from the likes of you." The pirate replied with a feral grin that would have made a lesser man flinch. "The entire song must be sang for it to work, though."
"Yo ho, haul together
Hoist the colors high!
Heave-ho, thieves and beggars
Never shall we die!"
The haunting song continued even as the nobleman nodded and gestured for the executioner to stall. "Will this be enough?" He gestured with the hand that still tightly held the book at the number of pirate slowly joining in on the song. The boy and his sister led the next chorus.
"Now some have died
And some are alive
And others sail the sea
With the keys to the cage
And the devil to pay
We lay to Fiddler's Green."
"Aye, it be enough. If they finish the song." The pirates were now clinking their chains and stomping their feet in rhythm with the song, all heads held high as they sang the refrain together like it was a hymn of salvation. To them, it might as well have been.
"But how will they know if it has been sung?" It was a part that had never been fully explained in the book he held onto so securely. The nobleman refused to let anything slip him by. "They're sailing the seas all over the world! No way word will reach any of them anytime soon."
"The bell has been raised
From its watery grave.
Hear its sepulchral tone?
A call to all
Pay heed the squall
And turn your sails towards home." Everyone was now singing, on the gallows, in the line awaiting their turn, in the prison cells awaiting their own appointment with the noose the next day, even a few citizens of Port Royal joined in on the refrain again. The song echoed throughout the harbor and beyond, all passing by pirates taking off their hats and joining in on the shanty, understanding the graveness of the situation and turning sails away from Jamaica. Those poor buggers were already done for. It made no sense for them to be executed as well, now did it?
The pirate who worked for the nobleman took out a coin and tossed it to him, the coin doing a few flips before it landed in the awaiting palm. He gestured for him to put it his ear and both of the gentlemen did as bid, not understanding. The piece of eight was just an ordinary coin, as far as they could tell. "That be a special coin each pirate be carrying on their person for as long as they live. It is so that, should it come to it that the song is sang, those who must heed the call will hear it."
"I don't understand." The Admiral was grumbling beside the confused man about bloody pirates and heathen magic.
"You'll see." Was all he said as the chorus was repeated one last time.
"Yo ho, haul together
Hoist the colors high!
Heave-ho, thieves and beggars
Never shall we die!" Most fell silent, as though not sure of what further to do and the executioner's hand reached towards the leaver that would drop the boards from under their feet when the same boy continued the next verse. A new verse not even the pirate explaining the song had heard of. "When monsters and gods
Feast on the men
Black sails sail the sea
The beast is dead
And the devil is caged
The King is who we need." Again the chorus was sang by all pirates and they next joined the boy when he began the second new verse that the traitorous pirate had not heard. "He opened the cage
And he sees the devil free
Winds blow in our sails
The sea is not bound
And the final hours
Sees his spirit free.
Yo ho, all hands together
Hoist the colors high!
Heave-ho, thieves and beggars
Never shall we die."
"What is this?" The pirate asked himself, drawing the attention of his two companions. "Those are not the words of the song!"
"They seem to fit, though." The Admiral argued pointedly, looking on in interest as the pirate was turning interesting shades of white and gray.
"What is the song truly about?" The youngest of the trio asked, staring into the boy's defiant eyes with his own intrigued ones. "Surely not just a mere call to arms?"
"It speaks of Davy Jones, the sea goddess Calypso and the Brethren Court. This part ... It must be about the new Pirate King that was voted two years ago." The cutthroat realized, paling further. "It has to be about him! There is no other explanation!"
"When the ghosts are here
And the devil is near
We sail under his flag
With the power of the sea
Follow forever will we
Him to the End and beyond!" The eyes of the pirates was burning with a light of hope that had been wholly absent just mere minutes ago. They had resigned themselves to their fate, they had not thought to sing the song. But it had to be done and they proudly joined their voices together one last time.
"Yo ho, haul together
Hoist the colors high!
Heave-ho, thieves and beggars
Never shall we diieee!"
"Cut that boy lose." The nobleman ordered just as the executioner, recognizing the end of the shanty, pulled the leaver. The Admiral shouted the order just as they all dropped, five necks snapping mercifully - as opposed to when the poor bastards struggled until they properly suffocated, sometimes for hours - and a little body hit the ground, his rope laying over his head as he dazedly opened his confused eyes, a piece of eight falling from his clenched hands.
The piece of eight held up to their ear suddenly gave a hum and both Englishman looked at it in stupefied surprise before the younger of the two broke into an elated grin. He looked at the young boy weeping up at his sister's hanging corpse and almost cheerfully ordered.
"Bring the boy to me."