Chapter 7
Jack's eyes blazed a shadowed golden fire, defiance and rage swirling deep inside. He was tied and only when he stood facing Greoff squarely like a prisoner on display did they untie his arms from behind his back.
"Kneel, Jack Sparrow, and face the punishment for your crime."
"I did not commit any crimes." Jack emphasized, struggling against his mind-numbing anger.
"There is every bit of proof against you, and none in your favor." He smirked, "Come now, face it like a man."
Anamaria barely contained the urge to unsheathe her sword and run the bastard through. She could sense the contradiction running through Jack's mind. Would he do it? Could he force himself too? To kneel in front of these men must lodge something akin to pain within him.
Where in the bloody hell were Will and Elizabeth! They should have gotten back here by now and every minute they were gone was another Jack would be hurt.
"'s a total of thirty lashes." One man remarked, "no' used to pain are ye?" that made some of the other crew laugh. Jack noticed with peace of mind none of his own did.
"Sparrow. . ." any moment they would try to tear his shirt from his back, but he'd be damned before being manhandled like an animal.
Jack tore his shirt off and threw it down on deck. Anamaria was prepared for it and so was most of the Pearl's crew. When the day was hot and there was work to be done, most of the crew bared to the waist and Jack was no exception. There was always a few who gave him a few questioning side-glances, now these men looked at the scars with wide eyes.
He had waited for the most opportune moment and this one was it. The broad display of his back would no doubt surprise them and just as he had thought, it did. It was something he had spoken of only once and then only to Anamaria. She knew about his past, father and sister, but she had taken a vow and wouldn't break it on pain of death.
Lines criss-crossed one another around and along his back. All of them were old, if she had ran her hand over then they would be smooth. She could also see the fresh just scarring wound below his heart, there was no blood from it but it looked puffy and awfully painful.
"Kneel!" the captain commanded again.
"No." Jack replied.
"No? Forty then and you've already bared your back."
"I invoke the right of substitution." Annamaria spoke up knowing that even though he had done this for her there was no way she would stand by and watch when he was so injured already. The loss of blood from the pistol bullet had been tremendous, anymore and he might not be able to fight off the poison any longer.
"What? Beg pardon?" Jack and Greoff asked at the same time.
"Substitution. I take his place, he takes mine. All's equal."
Jack's shoulder twitched and his jaw clenched. He then fell heavily to the deck on his knees. He dropped so straightly that it seemed he would jump up again at any moment. He could not allow Annamaria to take his place, Captain he was and unfortunately no escape would be enacted this time.
"Forty lashes delivered to the back for the act of piracy and murder."
How dare these cursed bastards tale over! What gave them the right! Privateers, Gibbs had always hated them, legalized pirates were all they were. What made them any better than the real pirates? At least Jack's crew were honest, or as honestly dishonest as they could be. Jack never killed unnecessarily either.
The whip unfurled and Jack fixed his gaze clearly in front of him. Any moment now he would feel the brutal slashing to his back, he only hoped they wouldn't salt the wound after.
Annamaria's skin crawled, she needed to be anywhere but here. It would be so much easier were she the one kneeling rather than having to watch this barbaric event. She was thankful now that Jack outlawed it on the Pearl.
All of the crew fought and served proudly, they knew it was one of the best positions offered. Free rein, normally good food, and best of all. . . the Caribbean's finest rum.
She desperately tried to think of something, anything, to take her mind away from the present scene. The whip cracked in the air, the tall heavy-set man grinned as he accustomed himself to the feel.
Annamaria jumped at the sound, she had to steady her nerves or there would be no way to get through the rest without breaking down. A woman pirate she might be, she could fight, drink, and swear to top any of them, but watching a man be punished for something he'd not done. . . she wanted to close her eyes against it, but would take the cowards way out and forsake Jack.
"Ready?" the Captain called. Then the first-mate darted in, and before Jack could do anything, tied a length of rope around his wrists.
"'s in case ye keel o'er." The rope was tied so Jack couldn't move away and then also so they could pull him wherever they wanted.
"Bloody cowards!" Annamaria couldn't stop the words from escaping. Twas so unfair!
"Forty-five now, and more added if there be another word from you, wench."
Her jaw nearly dropped to the deck, forty-five! "Oh, Jack. I'm so sorry." She whispered. His eyes met hers and he tipped his head a little. She understood, he didn't blame her and held no grudge. He was Jack Sparrow and they wouldn't break him so easily.
They drew the moment out longer and longer no doubt wanting him to bolt when they finally cracked the whip again, but he wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
The first lash brought a rush of air from his lungs.
There was no pain but as the fog cleared from his mind a tide of it coursed through him. Jack bit his tongue and saw white lights flash again as the second and third was delivered.
The rope jerked and he was forced backwards into the blow. Why those low, vile, yellow, scurvy, son of a dogs! There were still thirty to be administered and Annamaria couldn't possibly see how Jack could take anymore.
Blood dripped slowly down his back, some of the drops had hit where his shirt was laid. Gibbs winced as one of the previous lashes was flayed even deeper. Not a sound from Jack yet. He stayed on his knees and only slight shivers wracked his body from time to time. Twenty more and it would be all over. What they planned to do from there, it wasn't clear yet.
Jack's head swam as the sun blurred in front of him. Strange how everything was spinning and twirling wildly. Twas almost as if he were drunk, too bad he wasn't. How he would love to wake to just a headache and all of this be a dream.
He should have fallen to the deck long ago, only the fact that they'd dare tie him kept him upright. He could barely breathe as it was. Every time he had sufficient enough breath, that would escape in a fresh wave of fire.
His entire back felt burning, scorching hot. He could feel the warm blood mix with his perspiration and sting the other gashes. As the rope jerked back again he barely contained the scream that threatened to escape.
How many had it been so far? Ye gods, he couldn't take much more of this. The whip was wet with blood, he saw it every now and again from the corner of his. Only the chasm of his mind helped hold some of the pain back. If he hadn't formed a barrier, they would have driven him mad long ago.
It stopped, could it be over? One final lash caused his teeth to rattle in his head, then the rope was pulled tight as a bucket of salt-water was thrown over his torn back.
Every muscle in Jack's body tensed and he rose to one knee no matter that they had him down. His eyes met those of the Captain. In the black depths rage so tangent it was felt could be seen. Greoffs death was already sealed.
Annamaria caught the hatred, pain, and utter need for revenge because she felt the same. The water cleaned the blood away and disinfected the wounds, but that made no matter as salt seeped through the open cuts.
"Up, Sparrow." Greoff commanded. The rope tugged viciously into his wrists and Jack surged to his feet in one fluid motion that betrayed his inner havoc.
He couldn't stand it anymore, but then being upright again wasn't good either. The pulsing in his head tripled that which ran along his shoulders and down his spine. His knees were numb and it took all he had to just stay standing.
His breath came in harsh gasps, but he still maintained eye contact. It kept him rooted to the deck and gave him the strength he needed. What was he to do now? They had to escape, to watch them all hang. . . he was their Captain and he needed a plan.
Annamaria crossed over to Jack's side daring anyone to stop him. It wasn't the wisest thing she could have done, but under the circumstances there was nothing else she could do.
Jack was shivering and shaking slightly and the look in his eyes tore at her heart. She took his arm, mindful of the few scratches from the wayward whip and slung it over her hip as he had always used to. She gave him stability and someone to lean on. The loss of blood was staggering and her mind flinched when she saw the droplets of crimson on the whip still in the man's hand.
William and Elizabeth had better get here soon or she would kill them herself. Aside from being attacked by the privateers, held captive, or near death nothing would be a good enough excuse for what Jack had gone through on both hers and their account.
Jack's eyes blazed a shadowed golden fire, defiance and rage swirling deep inside. He was tied and only when he stood facing Greoff squarely like a prisoner on display did they untie his arms from behind his back.
"Kneel, Jack Sparrow, and face the punishment for your crime."
"I did not commit any crimes." Jack emphasized, struggling against his mind-numbing anger.
"There is every bit of proof against you, and none in your favor." He smirked, "Come now, face it like a man."
Anamaria barely contained the urge to unsheathe her sword and run the bastard through. She could sense the contradiction running through Jack's mind. Would he do it? Could he force himself too? To kneel in front of these men must lodge something akin to pain within him.
Where in the bloody hell were Will and Elizabeth! They should have gotten back here by now and every minute they were gone was another Jack would be hurt.
"'s a total of thirty lashes." One man remarked, "no' used to pain are ye?" that made some of the other crew laugh. Jack noticed with peace of mind none of his own did.
"Sparrow. . ." any moment they would try to tear his shirt from his back, but he'd be damned before being manhandled like an animal.
Jack tore his shirt off and threw it down on deck. Anamaria was prepared for it and so was most of the Pearl's crew. When the day was hot and there was work to be done, most of the crew bared to the waist and Jack was no exception. There was always a few who gave him a few questioning side-glances, now these men looked at the scars with wide eyes.
He had waited for the most opportune moment and this one was it. The broad display of his back would no doubt surprise them and just as he had thought, it did. It was something he had spoken of only once and then only to Anamaria. She knew about his past, father and sister, but she had taken a vow and wouldn't break it on pain of death.
Lines criss-crossed one another around and along his back. All of them were old, if she had ran her hand over then they would be smooth. She could also see the fresh just scarring wound below his heart, there was no blood from it but it looked puffy and awfully painful.
"Kneel!" the captain commanded again.
"No." Jack replied.
"No? Forty then and you've already bared your back."
"I invoke the right of substitution." Annamaria spoke up knowing that even though he had done this for her there was no way she would stand by and watch when he was so injured already. The loss of blood from the pistol bullet had been tremendous, anymore and he might not be able to fight off the poison any longer.
"What? Beg pardon?" Jack and Greoff asked at the same time.
"Substitution. I take his place, he takes mine. All's equal."
Jack's shoulder twitched and his jaw clenched. He then fell heavily to the deck on his knees. He dropped so straightly that it seemed he would jump up again at any moment. He could not allow Annamaria to take his place, Captain he was and unfortunately no escape would be enacted this time.
"Forty lashes delivered to the back for the act of piracy and murder."
How dare these cursed bastards tale over! What gave them the right! Privateers, Gibbs had always hated them, legalized pirates were all they were. What made them any better than the real pirates? At least Jack's crew were honest, or as honestly dishonest as they could be. Jack never killed unnecessarily either.
The whip unfurled and Jack fixed his gaze clearly in front of him. Any moment now he would feel the brutal slashing to his back, he only hoped they wouldn't salt the wound after.
Annamaria's skin crawled, she needed to be anywhere but here. It would be so much easier were she the one kneeling rather than having to watch this barbaric event. She was thankful now that Jack outlawed it on the Pearl.
All of the crew fought and served proudly, they knew it was one of the best positions offered. Free rein, normally good food, and best of all. . . the Caribbean's finest rum.
She desperately tried to think of something, anything, to take her mind away from the present scene. The whip cracked in the air, the tall heavy-set man grinned as he accustomed himself to the feel.
Annamaria jumped at the sound, she had to steady her nerves or there would be no way to get through the rest without breaking down. A woman pirate she might be, she could fight, drink, and swear to top any of them, but watching a man be punished for something he'd not done. . . she wanted to close her eyes against it, but would take the cowards way out and forsake Jack.
"Ready?" the Captain called. Then the first-mate darted in, and before Jack could do anything, tied a length of rope around his wrists.
"'s in case ye keel o'er." The rope was tied so Jack couldn't move away and then also so they could pull him wherever they wanted.
"Bloody cowards!" Annamaria couldn't stop the words from escaping. Twas so unfair!
"Forty-five now, and more added if there be another word from you, wench."
Her jaw nearly dropped to the deck, forty-five! "Oh, Jack. I'm so sorry." She whispered. His eyes met hers and he tipped his head a little. She understood, he didn't blame her and held no grudge. He was Jack Sparrow and they wouldn't break him so easily.
They drew the moment out longer and longer no doubt wanting him to bolt when they finally cracked the whip again, but he wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
The first lash brought a rush of air from his lungs.
There was no pain but as the fog cleared from his mind a tide of it coursed through him. Jack bit his tongue and saw white lights flash again as the second and third was delivered.
The rope jerked and he was forced backwards into the blow. Why those low, vile, yellow, scurvy, son of a dogs! There were still thirty to be administered and Annamaria couldn't possibly see how Jack could take anymore.
Blood dripped slowly down his back, some of the drops had hit where his shirt was laid. Gibbs winced as one of the previous lashes was flayed even deeper. Not a sound from Jack yet. He stayed on his knees and only slight shivers wracked his body from time to time. Twenty more and it would be all over. What they planned to do from there, it wasn't clear yet.
Jack's head swam as the sun blurred in front of him. Strange how everything was spinning and twirling wildly. Twas almost as if he were drunk, too bad he wasn't. How he would love to wake to just a headache and all of this be a dream.
He should have fallen to the deck long ago, only the fact that they'd dare tie him kept him upright. He could barely breathe as it was. Every time he had sufficient enough breath, that would escape in a fresh wave of fire.
His entire back felt burning, scorching hot. He could feel the warm blood mix with his perspiration and sting the other gashes. As the rope jerked back again he barely contained the scream that threatened to escape.
How many had it been so far? Ye gods, he couldn't take much more of this. The whip was wet with blood, he saw it every now and again from the corner of his. Only the chasm of his mind helped hold some of the pain back. If he hadn't formed a barrier, they would have driven him mad long ago.
It stopped, could it be over? One final lash caused his teeth to rattle in his head, then the rope was pulled tight as a bucket of salt-water was thrown over his torn back.
Every muscle in Jack's body tensed and he rose to one knee no matter that they had him down. His eyes met those of the Captain. In the black depths rage so tangent it was felt could be seen. Greoffs death was already sealed.
Annamaria caught the hatred, pain, and utter need for revenge because she felt the same. The water cleaned the blood away and disinfected the wounds, but that made no matter as salt seeped through the open cuts.
"Up, Sparrow." Greoff commanded. The rope tugged viciously into his wrists and Jack surged to his feet in one fluid motion that betrayed his inner havoc.
He couldn't stand it anymore, but then being upright again wasn't good either. The pulsing in his head tripled that which ran along his shoulders and down his spine. His knees were numb and it took all he had to just stay standing.
His breath came in harsh gasps, but he still maintained eye contact. It kept him rooted to the deck and gave him the strength he needed. What was he to do now? They had to escape, to watch them all hang. . . he was their Captain and he needed a plan.
Annamaria crossed over to Jack's side daring anyone to stop him. It wasn't the wisest thing she could have done, but under the circumstances there was nothing else she could do.
Jack was shivering and shaking slightly and the look in his eyes tore at her heart. She took his arm, mindful of the few scratches from the wayward whip and slung it over her hip as he had always used to. She gave him stability and someone to lean on. The loss of blood was staggering and her mind flinched when she saw the droplets of crimson on the whip still in the man's hand.
William and Elizabeth had better get here soon or she would kill them herself. Aside from being attacked by the privateers, held captive, or near death nothing would be a good enough excuse for what Jack had gone through on both hers and their account.