The waves crashed over him as he lay on a piece of floating wood. The sun shone in his eyes and he blinked. "I'm alive." he whispered gratefully to himself. Raising up his head he looked around for the ship that had been his home. The Endeavour was nowhere to be seen. Well, relatively anyways. The piece of driftwood he held onto was one of the few remaining pieces of said ship left afloat.
The waves broke again and a menacing ship pulled along side him. Trying to look up at it to see it's colours, he was again blinded by the sun. "Bring 'im up!" shouted a man's voice. "Nice 'an easy now, Cap'n wants him unharmed." The raspy voice was unfamiliar.
Not long afterward there was a crushing pain as the survivor was thrown headlong, and headfirst into the brig of his rescuing ship. "What's going on?" he asked groggily. The day seemed like a total blur to him.
"Jus' wait 'til the Cap'n gets 'ere. He'll explain ev'rything." the tall man with the raspy voice replied. And with that, he turned on his heel and left the confused, soggy survivor in the brig.
The sun was setting and voices were heard topside. "Really now?" asked an all too familiar voice. A second voice, the raspy one from before spoke, saying "He's in the brig." The familiar voice, apparently the captain of this vessel, spoke a second time. "Bring him to be.. and summon Calypso. I have an idea."
A few moments later, the still dripping survivor was dragged out his his cell and brought to the captain's cabin. There was a large mahogany and bronze pipe organ in one corner of the were lanterns lit here and there. Though the layout of the ship was vaguely familiar to him, though he couldn't remember any ship that looked like this.
The captain was seated at the piano, picking at the keys. "Sir, here he is." said a skinny man. The captain raised a hand and beckoned his crewman out. "He was so good at it. I guess I'll have the remainder of eternity to perfect my own style." he said. He stood. With a deep sigh he turned around. "Welcome to the Flying Dutchman......., Lord Beckett."
"Turner?" asked Beckett. "But how?" he was even more confused then before he had been brought in here. He was on the Dutchman? Nonsense, this was a grand ship, not the derelict thing crewed by men who were half fish. "Where's Jones?" he asked defiantly. He tried to hide his fear the best way he knew how, with arrogance.
"Gone." replied Turner. "I stabbed his heart, thanks to Jack, and became the new Captain of the Dutchman." He was smug about it just a little. He liked this new side of himself. Beckett looked around.
"I've been aboard the Dutchman and this was not how it looked." He crossed his arms. His face was smooth with smugness.
"Jones perverted his mission." came a female voice from behind. "You summoned me... Captain Turner?" The ebony skinned goddess, in her humanish form sauntered in past Beckett. "What is it dat you want of me?"
William Turner smiled. "I propose to you a deal of sorts. Punishment for our ....." he coughed. "friend." He stepped forward, his shirt coming open a hair to reveal the ugly red scar that was over the place where his own heart used to be. Beckett winced, knowing that the man before him quite literally was.. heartless.
"Go on." Calypso said. The interest in her voice becoming thicker.
"Well." Will started out. "I was wondering. How quickly does time go by in the Locker?" Calypso's eyebrow raised.
"Time passes naught in the locker, it feels like an eternity but in fact eternity lasts not long enough.. " She paused. "Why?"
Still smiling Will asked "And how does a person get to the Locker without the Kracken or going to World's End?"
Calypso seemed to be catching his drift. She grinned widely showing off her mouthful of black teeth. "Dere is a way, but 'tis difficult to do. To take a living man to da Locker is not an easy ting to do. But, tis possible."
"Tell me how." Will said anxiously. Calypso looked at Beckett questioningly. "Mr Turner!" Will called out. The man with the raspy voice re-entered the cabin. "Take Beckett back to the brig whilst I talk with the Lady."
Bootstrap nodded. "Aye, sir." he said. Taking hold of Beckett's arm, he dragged him out of the room. "This way." he said, not bothering to even look at the little man he had by the arm.
"You're Turner senior then?" Beckett asked. The man nodded but said nothing. "He looks like his mother then." This time the older man turned his head. Beckett continued. "Ahh, but he has his father's eyes I see." Bootstrap sighed. In silence, Beckett was pushed back into his cell and the doors locked. There he remained for over three hours.
When at last someone came for him he was surprised to see that it was the captain himself. "Let's go, Beckett." he said as he unlocked the rusting iron door. "Now."
Unshackled and free to do as he chose, Becket followed nonetheless. They were in the middle of the sea with no land in sight. If he jumped, he'd be dead by the next afternoon from either dehydration or by sharks, neither of which sounded very appealing to him. Upon reaching the upper deck, Beckett noticed that all the crew looked like men. He said nothing as most of them had pistols and large knives in the their hands.
"Calypso. If you would, my friend." Will said to the goddess. with a nod, Calypso walked to the very tip of the ship and raised her hands. The clouds swirled overhead and the winds picked up to hurricaine force. The Dutchman, however, never faltered ont he seas, floating with the waves as if it were simply high tide. Closing her eyes, the goddess started to speak in her ancient, unknown language. Beckett watched in amazed horror as the water rose form the sea and formed a sort of tunnel before them. "Full canvas!" Will shouted to this crew and the sails were dropped.
As the Dutchman sailed into this chasm, Beckett's stomach took a turn. A feeling of utter dread swept over him as he realized he was being taken to his doom. He tried to take a step backward but Turner was there to hold him in place. So, he tried to close his eyes, but the very fact that he was seeing something wholly magical refused to let his eyes close. He stared at the rolling waves above and below him. The spray hit his face. The salty water stung his eyes and face but still he watched, unable to turn away. His breathing had increased as did his heartbeat. The tunnel seemed to go on forever. But just when He thought to ask if it was going to end, there was a light. 'this is it then.' he thought, 'the literal light at the end of the tunnel'. He held his breath as they passed through the other side of the tunnel. Turner took Beckett by his face with one hand. "For every person you took from me and mine.... Elizabeth, her father, even Norrington.. A hundred years for each soul you stole from my life." He then pointed. Becket turned to see what was being pointed at.
He was surprised to see what looked like land. "Here's your stop lad." Turner senior said with a chuckle. "I'm sure you can make it to shore from here." Bootstrap turned to his son who nodded. "Man overboard!" he shouted as he took Beckett by the collar of his coat and the waistband of his pants and tossed him over the side of the ship.
The water was a lot colder than he'd remembered it to be. He was under the surface and struggling to break through. When he did he saw the rear of the Dutchman passing back into the tunnel. Seeing no other alternative, he swam to he sandy beach not half a meter away. He crawled out of the water, exhausted but alive... Then Will Turner's words reverberated in his head. "A hundred years for every soul.. My god, how many could that be?"; Laying on his back, Beckett stared up at the sun. With it being this hot, he'd be dry in minutes. As the minutes ticked however, Beckett fell asleep.
It was dark when he awoke. He jumped to his feet with a start, forgetting for a moment where he was or what had happened. As his mind caught up to his body, though, he recalled the events that brought him here. "Damn." he said, kicking a little dirt with his boot toe. "I wonder if there's fresh water. He doesn't want me dead, just punished." He spoke aloud, as if there was someone that could hear him. "Right?" he asked, looking up at the moon, which seemed bigger here in Davy... no... Will Turner's Locker.. Beckett laughed. "Not much of a ring to it." he said. He walked inland a little. The moon was bright enough to allow him to see for a few hundred miles in every direction. Nothing but sand to his north, and west. The sea to his south and a small spit of trees to his east. "East it is then." he said with a smile on his face. Upon nearing the trees he realized that they bore coconuts. "Excellent!" he exclaimed. He could really get used to this. He took a few downed branches and fixed himself a makeshift bed. If this was how Turner expected to punish him it was a punishment he'd likely accept.
The next few weeks went by like this: wake up, have a coconut and walk the beach.. come back in for a coconut for lunch and work on a little hut from fallen branches and bits of shipwreck he'd found on his walks. Finally he'd have another coconut for supper and lie down do sleep as the sun set... It wasn't so bad really, until the hut was finished and the bits of wreckage started to dwindle. Then the boredom set in, and with it the realization that this was closer to hell then heaven. He started to loathe the taste of coconut and hated having only it to eat. He tried to fish but there were none. So he accepted the coconut and, with a sigh he sat on the beach and resigned himself to however many hundreds of years he would have to do this. On one of the last remaining strips of driftwood, he started marking off days.. Who knew how long he'd be there, but to him, it would at least give him something to look forward to each day.
A/N reviews anyone?? what do you think of my plot... I bet you can all tell where this is headed.