Chapter 21: 1727 The Sword of Damocles
The "Wicked Wench" sailed under full canvas. She was on her way from the African shores crossing the Atlantic over to New England and the Bahamas to deliver freight under the colours of the East India Trading Company and by orders of the company's new chairman, Lord Cutler Beckett.
She planed the surprisingly calm sea following the endless rhythm of the waves and the infinite breath of the open ocean while favourable winds swelled her sails and carried her towards her destined headings. Only a few more days before the journey would come to an end and with an extended shore leave in close range, the crew was in high spirits and eager to carry the captain's orders out at their best.
At least that was how it seemed...
It was then, only two or three days before she would reach her journey's first destination, that a storm broke loose, not caused by an enraged mother nature but unleashed by the vessel's captain, who, caught in a constant fight with himself ever since they had left the African shores, finally came to terms with his conscious and the raging inner conflict he felt torn by.
Jack Sparrow rushed out of the captain's cabin in a mood as dark as a tropical storm and whoever came across him as he headed for the wardroom, jumped out of his way without asking any questions. His crew knew what it was going on behind his brow and he knew his crew to be loyal against him and against the decision they made after a long night of endless discussions.
When he pushed the door open, leading to the wardroom, he had an intense look around at the astonished faces of his officers and that handful of officials paid by the East India Trading Company to observe the goings-on aboard. Other than Jack's crew, these men had no idea that their day would not take the course they'd have expected.
"Gentlemen", he addressed them, barely able to restrain his fury: "I expect you to join me at the parlour in about half an hour. Brace yourself for some unpleasant news."
With it he turned on his heels and slammed the door shut behind him. Still inwardly fuming, he went up to the stern and leaned against the rail, his gaze lost at the horizon and wishing he'd never have agreed to the terms of this journey.
"If you make this one trip for me, Captain Sparrow, I will promise you, on my word as a gentleman, that I won't ever ask you to do it again. If I had another captain to take this cargo I would hire him, but, as you can see for yourself, I don't."
Beckett's words resounded inside of his head like daunting chimes reminding him of having betrayed every single ideal he ever wanted to fight for:
Justice, freedom, friendship, equality and love...
How could he ever accept an order like this?
Sailing slaves over from Africa to the Bahamas!
And for whom?
A man, who made no secret out of the fact that the only reason why he'd not send him to the gallows was because he was an honest and upright sailor who did never betray the company in favour of his own vantage. Realising this betrayal he committed not only against the innocent people penned up within the storage of his vessel but also against himself and against the woman he loved, preyed on his mind from the moment on they set sail. That awful moment when he began to fear he could lose both, her love and her trust...no...he had to change the rules of this game before it was too late and he knew what to do...
It was within this moment when he felt Caithleen nestling up against his back and when he felt her wrapping her arms around him that he not only understood, that she'd not run away, but also that she had been right about Beckett having bought him when he gave him the "Wench".
"I should have listened to you, love. And not only to you." He turned round to face her, leaning his cheek against hers: "You all warned me that this day would come - you, Patrick, Rosalind. Even our crazy French professor knew better than me what would happen and he's not even a sailor."
"No, that he's not, Jack, but he has common sense and a great ability to read the people he comes across. But", she locked eyes with his: "do not rack your brain about this all too vehemently. I'm to blame for this, too. This ship, I also wanted it. I love her as much as you do, so, yes, I, too, was willing to step into this trap with open eyes as foolishly as you did."
"So, you think, we can still turn the tables on Beckett?"
"That I do, Captain Sparrow! Your crew has your back. I have your back. Beckett's men will have to swallow your decision..."
Half an hour later, the officers aboard the "Wicked Wench" as well as the officials of the East India Trading Company interrupted their lively discussion about what might be the reason for this sudden and unplanned meeting at this unusual hour, when Jack Sparrow and Caithleen Stevens entered the parlour.
"Keep your seats, gentlemen", Jack addressed them: "There is no need for formalities like that, not any more. I'd like to inform you, that we, means me, my first mate, Miss Stevens, and the crew came to an agreement about the new heading of this journey, last night."
Murmur started to spread amongst the attendees until one of the men decided to become the speaker of the group: "A new heading, Sir? How is this, and why?"
"The 'how' is easily explained: As I mentioned, my crew and I had a long discussion about what to do and what to do not, throughout the night, and after weighing in on the pros and cons our decisions might come with, in the long run, we came to an unanimous agreement about not to head towards New England and the Bahamas but to the Caribbean, instead. The why", he looked at the man who had spoken out on the issue: "should not be in need of explanations, am I right? I'm sure, each of you is perfectly well in the know about the 'why', or is there really a single one amongst you, who is not aware of the cargo penned up down in the storage?"
"Sir, you were aware of the cargo, Lord Beckett wanted you to sail over to the colonies."
"Oh yes, I was, and, to my personal shame I have to admit that I accepted the task after Lord Beckett promised me it would be a one-time type of cargo for me and my crew as he knew pretty well what my thoughts about selling people into slavery are. Well, gents, I don't want to beat about the bushes any longer. I came to the conclusion that I will not become part of this new trade and, therefore, I'll set our involuntarily passengers free as soon as we'll have reached the Caribbean."
"But, Sir! This is not your decision to make!"
"Is it not?"
"Not after you agreed to accept Lord Beckett's orders as contracted, Sir, and not after you agreed to get handed over the prize at the planned concourse at the end of your journey. This cargo does not belong to you. This cargo is the property of Lord Cutler Beckett and the East India Trading Company."
"Do not dare talking to me about the men and women down within the storage as cargo, ever again, Mister Tomlinson!" Jack cleared his throat and went on: "Gentlemen, you heard me. I made my decision and, as Miss Stevens told me just a few moments ago, my crew will have my back over it. I won't head for the colonies under these circumstances, that's all, for now." He turned towards Caithleen and said: "I want you to pass my orders on to the crew. They shall free the poor devils down in the storage from their chains and they shall make sure that everyone will get food and drink. Tell the men, they shall also brief them about my decision to set them free as soon as we'll have reached the Caribbean. I'm sure they will prefer living on a small, uninhabited island over humiliation and death on a plantation."
"Aye, Captain!"
"You know, I'll have to inform Lord Beckett about your disloyalty and your unacceptable behaviour, Sir!"
"Do as it pleases you, Mister Tomlinson! We'll send you and the other gentlemen ashore, before we'll head for the Caribbean that no one will ever be able to blame you for having listened to my explanations without having been able to oust me from my post as captain of the 'Wicked Wench'. Of course, you can still make a try to displace me, but I'm sure, you'll fail aboard this ship! Tell Beckett, 'Black Gold' might be capable at best to pile up undreamt-of riches, but neither I nor my crew nor this vessel will be part of this trade any longer. Tell him also, I'm aware of the possible consequences and that I won't run from them. Well, then, there's nothing more to talk about! Miss Stevens, make sure, Mister Tomlinson and the rest of our guests in here are free to go ashore at the next port in reach, then, I want you to set course straight towards the Caribbean..."
The "Wicked Wench" lay for anchor close to the shallows of one of the many small and uninhabited islands without a name spread all around the Caribbean and the crew had launched the boats to ferry the former prisoners of the East India Trading Company over to a new life in freedom. They all knew, it would not be the life they had been used to, but it would still be better than being forced to live and die as a slave. The captain and his crew did agree about leaving them with enough supplies, money and weapons to fend for themselves, if necessary, but as he had not in mind to give the bearings of this little island away, Jack was convinced, a life in peace would wait for the freed slaves.
It was later the same day, when he sat all alone within the captain's cabin, his feet placed on the table, spinning a bottle of rum in his hands without drinking from it.
Jack didn't cherish an illusion, he knew, the moment he decided to set the slaves free, his life would get turned upside down. Of course, it would not have been the first time, but this time, the enemy would be way more powerful than ever before. It was not his wish, but he would not run from the upcoming confrontation with Beckett.
It was Caithleen who dragged him out of his thoughts as she entered the cabin: "Brooding in the half shades won't help, Captain Sparrow. I come to tell you, everything goes according to plan." When he didn't give her a reply, she sat down on the edge of the table and placed her hands on his shoulders: "You did everything right. The crew understands why we're here and why you decided to miss out on the prey and the payment Beckett offered to you, this time."
"I'm not worrying about our crew, love. If necessary, I would have risked a mutiny. No, it's something else I'm worried about, Caith. When he gave us the 'Wench', Beckett had already planned to betray us and to get rid of us, he just didn't have the proper means to do so. This did change after he decided to get engaged in slave trade and human trafficking. The day he asked me to ship human cargo over to the Bahamas for him just this one single time, he knew, I'd not be able to obey him. He found the means he needed to get to us...and I'm not sorry that he did..."
Before Caithleen could give him a reply the cry came from the crow's nest: "Sail ho! Approaching quickly!"
Jack and Caith exchanged a look and headed to the deck: There was no doubt, another galleon drew nearer at good pace. Caithleen had a look through her spyglass and smiled as she handed it over to Jack: "Not an English ship! Have a look!" Turning round, she added: "Hoist the colours! Let them know who we are! I'm convinced they'll appreciate, either, that we're no English!"
"The 'Bride'?" Jack asked handing the spyglass back over to her: "What leads your cousin back to the Caribbean?"
"She's a Stevens, maybe, she's hunting for a handsome bird, too", Caithleen teased him: "Rose had a Swollow, I've a Sparrow...so, it would make sense, wouldn't it?"
"That would come a little unexpected, but for sure it would not be unwelcomed!" He remarked with a cheeky grin while giving her a wink: "The women of the Stevens family are too pretty to ignore them, aye?"
"Jack!"
"What? I was just saying it runs in your family, eh?"
Shortly after, the "Neptune's Bride" lay for anchor alongside the "Wicked Wench" near the shallows and Jack reached out to help Prudence Stevens with getting aboard. Hinting a bow he looked at Caith and Prue by turns and grinned: "Ladies!"
"Which lucky winds carried you over here, Prue?" Caithleen beheld her cousin in a mix of pleasant surprise and deepest distrust.
"The keen sense of a rich prey, Caith! But what are you doing here amidst the nowhere?" Prudence Stevens pointed at the boats and at the bustling activity at the beach and all around the little island.
"What does it look like?" Caithleen asked.
"At first sight, I would say you let some good and easily earned money slip through your fingers. As it looks, you had a storage full of treasure. Tell me, Jack, are you and Caith still sailing for the company?"
"Let's say, we cut ties with Lord Beckett and with the East India Trading Company, just a couple of days ago." Jack replied: "But what would this be to you, I wonder?"
"Call it curiosity, Jack!" Prue shrugged: "And who of you came up with the idea to set Beckett's cargo free on this godforsaken little island?"
"You're in doubt about this idea?"
Prudence laughed and her thick red strands of hair shimmered within the bright sunlight: "How could I not? You are giving an enormous amount of money away, Jack. Do you have the slightest idea, what you could get for such a cargo of slaves by selling them at Port Royal, at Tortuga or in Nassau?"
"Don't you worry, love, we are aware of it, but we won't do it. Savvy? But why don't you come below with us? Sharing a bottle of rum...or wine... and some stories about your latest adventures won't do any harm to either of us either, aye?"
"Well", Prue replied with a slightly strained undertone in her words: "If I see, what's going on here, right in front of my eyes, this could lead me in temptation. Think of it, Jack, I could scuttle the fastest vessel of the East India Trading Company, I could pocket the reward the Spanish offered for Jack Sparrow and his crew and I could sell a cargo of slaves to the highest bidder. An incentive, I could forget all family bonds about."
"You wouldn't dare!" Caithleen stared at her, icily, her hand rested on the handle of her sword: "Not even our fathers would have done something despicable like that!"
"Our fathers, Caith, divided their hunting-grounds early enough to not be forced to cross blades!"
"Then I ask myself, what brought you back to the Caribbean! Last time, you told us, you're a Coast Captain of the Madagascan Brotherhood. Seems, these are not your hunting-grounds, then, eh?"
"I'm here for good business!"
"For whom do you sail, then?"
"For no one but me, Prudence Stevens!"
"I heard something similar, before! That Stevens had been a guest of the governor of Port Royal, lately. If that's what you strive for...I won't keep you from doing so..."
"Oh yes, I recall that! I heard your mother got hanged in Port Royal, a while ago! Do you think she would have given up a cargo of slaves?"
"No, she wouldn't! But Patrick would..."
"Swallow! Yes! I remember him! He saved you and your mother from the Spanish and from getting sold to a whorehouse, didn't he? Oh Yes, and he pulled you out of the bay at Shipwreck Island, too, wet like a cat, didn't he?" Prudence turned her gaze from Caith over towards Jack.
"Ladies, don't you think we should go on with this below..." Jack made a try to interfere looking at Caith and Prue by turns.
"Jack, keep out of this...!" Both women told him...
Two weeks later, the "Wicked Wench" was on her way back to the African Shores...
Caithleen stood at the helm, her gaze focussed at the open sea, motionless and lovely. Her dark-brown bandana was barely able to tame her black curls and several loose strands were dancing with the wind.
Jack enjoyed keeping taps on her: The way her hands moved the helm, the way she brushed her hair from her face and the way she moved from one foot to the other to avoid them to get numb. After all those years they spent together he still desired her, maybe even more than in the beginning. If this was the meaning of love, he would never trade it in, and if they would survive this adventure, he would turn his back on Beckett and on the East India Trading Company for good. He would take his girl and they would return to Patrick's Island. Maybe, he would even capture the "Wench" to sail on his own account like Pat and Rose once did.
He let out a sigh.
It wasn't foreseeable what would wait for them when they'd reach the agreed concourse near the African coast. In the end, the worst Beckett could to them would be sending them to the gallows, together, and it was not as far as, yet.
Quietly, he tiptoed up to the helm, sneaked behind her and wrapped his arms around her tender body. Caithleen didn't say a word. She just leaned back against his chest and closed her eyes.
"Just hold me tight", she whispered: "It could be the last time..."
One day, they had one day left...
Right before the „Wicked Wench" reached the declared concourse she met an escort of English warships cruising near the coast and the captain of the leading vessel signalled them to follow him.
It was close to nightfall when they reached the port and as soon as she got tied up a troop of soldiers entered the "Wench" searching her from bow to stern and back and from her highest mast down to the darkest corner of the brig.
Jack rushed to the deck and asked having a look around: "What's going on, here? Who ordered this? And why is my crew under arrest?"
"You're the captain?" A calm voice asked back underlain with a dangerous threat.
"Aye!"
"I see!" His opponent looked at him with a twisted grin: "So you're Captain Sparrow, then!"
"As it were!" Jack replied and added: "And I suppose, you're Beckett's pet dog, aren't you?"
"The name is Mercer, Captain Sparrow, Ian Mercer, and while the governor is absent, I will be your host. Lord Beckett ordered me to keep you, Miss Stevens and your crew under arrest up to the day of his arrival. You will be brought to the garrison, right now, where we reserved a nice little cell for you and your lover. The 'Wicked Wench' will get send out to lie at anchor within the bay. So, there will be no need for you to think about making a try to capture her." He waved the guards over and added: "Take these two over to the garrison and make sure they'll come to enjoy our hospitality!"