PART THREE

Warrants and Arrests

The day after Norrington's return, Lord Beckett began issuing arrest warrants. The arrests were to be made quickly, and Groves found his days occupied by leading groups of marines through the streets of Port Royal, arresting those he had once protected. It seemed that no one was safe, as anyone suspected of ever sympathizing with anyone suspected of piracy was locked up as if they themselves were thieves and murderers.

Norrington was made an Admiral. Groves longed for an opportunity to speak with him, even for a moment, but every time he got close, Norrington defaulted to formalities and spoke only of official matters, then quickly disappeared. It was discouraging to know that a man who had once been his friend was now avoiding him. Norrington received a new uniform to go with his new rank, a reminder to those who had known him that though the man was restored to dignity and a position of command, something was different now.

Rumors spread quickly and wildly. Townspeople, soldiers, and even some of the officers speculated that Lord Beckett wanted to rule the world. There were rumors that he was secretly working with a secret pirate council known as the Brethren Court. Other rumors said Beckett wanted the Brethren Court dead. Still others claimed that there was no Brethren Court, that Lord Beckett had invented it to convince the King to put him in charge of Port Royal. Some even claimed that Beckett had supernatural powers, was a god, or was using some secret magic in order to force the pirates into submission.

Groves knew better. Whatever deal Norrington had made with Beckett had certainly put Beckett in a fine mood. He was no longer searching for the chest. For the first time, there was fire in Lord Beckett's icy stare, a fire that burned with crazed desire, obsessively blazing nearly out of control. It was no secret that the man had ambitious goals. He spoke of the end of piracy and the beginning of a new era. He sent ships all around the world, searching for members of the mysterious Brethren Court. And most alarming of all, he claimed to possess the heart of Davy Jones. Groves had never heard him speak of it directly, but Beckett had dropped many pointed hints. He claimed that he now commanded the Captain of the Flying Dutchman, the god-man who controlled the seas.

Groves spent as little time in Beckett's presence as possible. He was reluctant to believe the rumors, but not as reluctant as he would have been once. After all, he had seen Barbossa's crew walk around like immortal skeletons in the moonlight, victims of an ancient curse. It all sounded crazy, Groves knew. Sometimes he wondered if he had lost his mind, but then he would see the obsessive confidence in Beckett's eyes, and he knew that it was this untouchable tyrant who was truly cursed with madness. And Beckett's curse was slowly spreading to everyone in Port Royal.

Groves banged on the door of a small residence on the edge of town, clutching yet another arrest warrant. After a moment the door opened calmly and a man stood in the doorway. He gazed blankly at Groves for a moment, and then glanced past the lieutenant, studying each of the marines as if counting them. He was tall, and seemed taller by the way he held himself rigidly erect. His aging face was darkened and weathered, the face of a sailor. Groves drew in a sharp breath and glanced back down at the warrant. Suddenly he recognized the name John Wyatt. This man had been in the Navy.

"Yes?" Wyatt said.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Wyatt," Groves began. "Or, Lieutenant Wyatt, I believe."

Wyatt offered a nod of confirmation, waiting calmly for more.

"I regret to inform you that..." Groves hesitated. This man had been a Lieutenant in the Navy for years. Could he really be under arrest? Groves looked down at the paper in his hands, checking the name on the warrant, even though he knew he hadn't misread it. "Sir, I have a warrant for your arrest..."

"Ah," Wyatt said. "For aiding those convicted of piracy, if I am not mistaken."

"Yes," Groves said, a bit surprised at the man's casual demeanor. "I have the paper here, if you'd like to see it."

Wyatt smiled slightly. "That won't be necessary." He stepped across the small dwelling's threshold, neatly closing the door and locking it behind him. "I don't intend to make any fuss." He walked with a pronounced limp, aided by a crude wooden cane.

"There must be a mistake," Groves said. "Surely Lord Beckett made a mistake when he put your name on that warrant. I'll look into it myself."

"No need," Wyatt assured him. "Lord Beckett doesn't make mistakes."

Groves stared at the retired navy man for a long moment, then he nodded in resignation and led Wyatt back to the cart that carried the prisoners. It was nearly full, and out of deference to a man he considered a comrade, Groves allowed Wyatt to sit next to him on the front bench next to the driver. As the cart made its way back towards the fort, Groves looked over at Wyatt and asked, "You admit to the charges?"

"I do," Wyatt replied, resolutely. "In fact, I embrace them."

"But, Sir, aiding and conspiring with pirates?"

"Not pirates. Those convicted of piracy."

Then Groves understood. He drew in a breath and nodded slowly. "Those wrongly convicted."

"Surely you knew that many of these people are innocent, or at least mostly innocent, of these heinous charges Beckett has issued."

Groves didn't reply.

"I arranged safe passage for seven men and their families before I was caught by a couple of Beckett's spies," Wyatt said. "And just this morning I sent two more on their way." He smiled slightly. "I was beginning to wonder when you'd come to arrest me."

Groves didn't know what to say. He stared down at his boots and wished for courage like Wyatt's. Courage to do right by doing wrong, and risking himself in the process. Not only himself, Groves thought. "I'd send you away if I thought it wouldn't get my sister killed."

Wyatt looked over at Groves with brooding dark blue eyes that had earned their wisdom from years of service. "I don't envy you," he said. "Me, I have no one left. My wife died years ago, and my sons have all gone their own ways. But I see what men like you must endure, and I don't know how you sleep at night."

Groves shook his head. "I don't," he said. He sighed wearily, but felt a small weight lift off his chest at having admitted his restless nights to someone. He glanced back over at Wyatt and tried to change the subject. "You served with Admiral Norrington, if I'm not mistaken."

"When he was Captain Norrington." Wyatt's blue eyes were suddenly unhappy. "He was a different man then. I can't imagine what he's been through to change him into what he is now. A perfect recreation of what he used to be."

The cart arrived at the fort, and the marines began escorting the prisoners to the jail. Groves slowly climbed off the bench behind Wyatt, reluctant to jail the man, but knowing he had no choice. He led Wyatt towards the prison, where they were briefly intercepted by an officer of the Company, one of the many who had arrived with Beckett's takeover.

"Who's this?" one asked.

Groves produced the warrant. "John Wyatt," he answered.

"And why isn't he bound? Or shackled?"

"I didn't think him much of a flight risk."

The man glanced down at Wyatt's bad leg, and the cane.

"Old battle injury," Wyatt said. "Ended my navy career."

"You were in the navy?"

Before Wyatt could answer, Admiral Norrington appeared in the doorway to the prison. "I'll take it from here," Norrington said, dismissing the officer. Then he just stood for a moment and looked at both Groves and Wyatt, who both watched the Admiral and waited for him to speak again. "John," he said, acknowledging Wyatt.

"Admiral," Wyatt replied.

"Mr. Groves, I'll escort Mr. Wyatt. I'm sure you have other duties."

Groves met Norrington's gaze for a moment, then nodded. He glanced over at Wyatt one last time.

"Keep yourself out of trouble," Wyatt said. "I have a feeling things are going to get worse around here before they get better, but even the worst times don't last forever."

Groves nodded, still hesitant to leave, and met Norrington's eyes.

"He's right, Lieutenant," Norrington said. For a moment the mask of formality and ceremony faltered, just slightly. There was a weary bitterness in the Admiral's eyes. "It's going to get worse."

Lieutenant Wyatt appears in my oneshot State of Mind. Reviews and feedback are appreciated!