I keep thinking about the scene and I have an urge to type this out. Reviews are welcome.
Fourteen. There were fourteen men and women standing before me. Fourteen bloodied, beaten and haggard pirates left in front of me. Behind me were hundreds more. We all watched, waited, and listened. We watched our brothers and sisters hang before our eyes, their eyes rolling back and their necks cracking. We heard their gurgles and gasps until they were still, hanging by the hard knot. The fat executioner would wait until we all had a good look at our band of brothers, dead before us, then grabbed the knife from his pocket and cut them down. Their bodies dropped lifeless to the ground, where they were stripped of their dignity. All that was left of them were shells of great humans.
A cold breeze blew through the fort. The soldiers shivered with their stuffy uniforms and clutched their rifles closer to their chests. Not one of us pirates dared move. We did not turn from the cold or bite our lips. We remained still and quiet until another group was taken up. We then moved very slowly as the clanking of our chains echoed through the stone fort.
As the next group stood on the scaffold I lifted my bloodshot eyes to take one last look at them. One was from the ship my brother and I had stowed away on. I felt my heart stop once again, as it had several times since five o'clock that morning when the day of death began, as I gazed at the brave young man I had gotten to know. He held his head high and I did not see him move a single muscle.
I almost forgot that he was seconds away from his death. When the floor dropped I inhaled deeply and bit my lip until I drew blood. He did not fight as darkness consumed him; he was dead in seconds.
A deep sigh came from behind me. I did not know whose hands were connected to mine behind me, but I reached for them and grazed them carefully. I prayed for their peace as our time of death neared.
I took a side glance at the soldiers who stood in a long, endless line to match our chain gang. One of them was looking dead at me. He was young with a baby face and looked uncomfortable. I made sure the glance I sent him was full of disgust and disgrace. He cowered and looked down at the floor, inhaling deeply.
He knew this was wrong. From one look at me he knew that Lord Beckett was insane. He knew from my small frame that I was no more than a child. I saw him blink his eyes shut hard; trying to ignore what was in front of him. I knew it wasn't working from the way his knuckles turned white from gripping his riffle.
We began to move again. Slowly we began to step towards the scaffold, each step making our hearts beat faster, our palms sweat and our minds race. I was so close to the scaffold now, I could smell the rotting bodies. A soldier stood at the steps, releasing peoples from the chain and forcing them up the stairs with cuffs still clutching their wrists.
Seven became six, then five, then four, then three, then two, and then one.
I looked up as the soldier observed the prisoner who stood in front of me. He jerked back as his eyes widened. He was horrified and thank the gods he was. I wanted him to feel ashamed, and I wanted to him know the pain I felt driving into my heart as he looked at the young creature's face. He unlatched the young boy in front of me very slowly and dropped his chains. He did not have to tell the boy to walk. He did it by himself. And up the steps the small boy went, dragging his heels as always.
After all these years my brother still could not pick his feet up from off the floor. I spent hours reciting proper mannerisms and how he looked so dull and uninterested when he dragged his unusually small feet when he walked. The one thing I could never teach that boy was to pick up his damned feet. And now as I watched my brother walk up the steps to his death, I was ready to scream out to him how sorry I was for ever even speaking a single painful word to him.
But I was silenced. Those who started uproar would be shot immediately; I had seen it happen several times already. It was no use to die like that. We all preferred death by dignity, the last resort we were offered.
But some of us could not silence the pain we felt. Earlier, as a distressed mother watched her son walk up the steps of the scaffold, she began to shout to him, calling out her final "I love you." A bullet was driven into her scull, and she was silenced, with warm tears still steaming down her face.
My brother walked to his noose. I saw him lift his head and let out a little sigh as he observed the thick rope.
It was maddening to watch. I began to jerk against the chain and let out little yelps without opening my mouth. The person behind me tried to shush me and grab my wrists, but I couldn't stop. The young soldier did nothing. He saw me twitch with agony and backed away.
I thought back to two days prior when this nightmare began. My brother and I were attacked in an alley. The soldiers dragged us to the prison where we were set on a mock trail. My mouth had been butted with a rifle and it ached whenever I moved my jaw, so I could not defend myself. The same was for my brother. Again we met the dark walls of the prison. The next day the very Lord Beckett was pacing the jails. He pinched the cheeks of us pirates. He spat on us and kicked us aside. When he came upon me I dropped to my knees and began to wail.
"Please, sir, my brother is here only because of me. Let him go, he had no choice but to come with me." I cried as tears streamed down my face. Lord Beckett looked down at me, his clear eyes boring down at me with a distant but embarrassing stare. He kicked me aside and continued his walk.
"What an ugly little thing." He remarked to one of the guards, jerking his head towards me.
I stood hopelessly watching the noose go around my brother's pale, slender neck. Before it was tightened, he looked back at me slightly. He glanced at me and gave me a very small nod, as if he were trying to tell me it was okay; as if the rope wasn't burning and itching against his throat, and the smell of rotting bodies wasn't filling his nose. The tears pooled in my eyes again. I let out a sharp sob as the pain embraced me: the cruelty of this all, the pain that was driving into my soul. I couldn't understand how any human could stand there and watch this happen.
The second commander shakily called out the reasoning of death. All of us pirates listened with boiling blood as the commander emphasized "suspended" each time he mentioned it.
The nooses were tied, and the pirates with the thick ropes laced around their necks stood before us. Hundreds of eyes, pirate and soldier, were on my brother. We were all watching my brother, so small and so frail; face his death at only a mere age of ten. My heart was racing and threatening to pound outside my chest. I watched the executioner torture us pirates as we watched my brother, helpless and alone.
Just when I thought my brother was to leave this earth with no final words, I heard it. My brother's quiet, throaty voice reciting the song we had learned a year ago aboard the Yantz. The song that I had learned to love and live by; the song that stood for everything we pirates were. He had nothing to left to loose, so he increased the volume of his voice even though he was shaking and uncertain. I knew that many could hear it now; the quiet call to arms for all of us. It was the question that we were faced with; our very meaning and purpose, dancing on my brother's cold lips.
I inhaled deeply and lifted my head, staring at my brother with the passion of the sea burning inside of me.
"Yo ho, haul together…" I called as tears steamed down my face. Those on the scaffold joined my brother and me, and those behind me slowly joined in.
"Hoist the colors high…" we continued, as the eerie shaking of chains echoed behind me. I lifted my feet and stomped. I smacked my wrists together and watched as the soldiers backed away, being the cowards they were. We all increased our volume and shouted the words that were tattooed on our hearts.
"Heave ho, thief and beggar…"
I knew my brother heard me from the way his back straightened. He put his hands behind his back and slowly waved goodbye to me. Tears streamed down my cheeks, mixing with my sweat and blood. I watched as the executioner tightened his grip on the pulley, anxious to get it done with.
I shook my head and looked up to the heavens, reminding the God above that my brother deserved a spot with him. His place here would never be forgotten, and hopefully in minutes when my time would come I would soon join him also.
I knew this would never be forgotten, this call to arms for all pirates. Death neared for all of us, but our haunting song would never be forgotten in the souls of the soldiers. No Guns or nooses could repress our meaning as pirates; it was already inked into history forever.
"Never shall we die." I cried as my voice cracked. I squeezed my eyes shut and looked down as he fell to his death. The rattling of chains and song became and distant echo and there was silence; all except for the small clank that sounded like a small piece of metal dropping to the floor.