Usual disclaimers... blah!
***
Davit Lucon was not a pirate - small time smuggler, thief, thug even, but never pirate. Although he had been to Tortuga twice he had never heard of Jeremiah Hallam before that day, but he had certainly made his acquaintance now. Jeremiah tied the end of the rope that bound his wrists to his saddle, setting a brisk trot in the darkness back towards Tortuga. It was dark and, although some of the riders held small lanterns he could see nothing but the rumps of their horses. He was forced to jog behind them, stumbling and falling often on the uneven ground. Sometimes Jeremiah would stop as soon as he fell, but more often he would let him drag for a few minutes before allowing him to regain his feet.
Davit was unsure whether to be delighted or more fearful when they finally reached the outskirts of the town. He was battered and bruised, his wrists bleeding from where the ropes chafed. Although the pistol wound in his shoulder had been bandaged in the brig, the shot had not been removed and it was bleeding again from his numerous falls. They stopped and he collapsed to the ground in exhaustion.
"Take him out back," Jeremiah ordered, untying the rope and throwing it to one of his guards. "And don't get blood on the carpet." He walked through the lobby, glancing at the ornate clock that chimed the hour. Midnight.
***
Davit woke as the water splashed his face. He groaned as the sunlight hit his eyes, automatically trying to shield them before he realised his hands were bound and above his head, his feet not quite touching the ground. He blinked, his confused mind slowly registering the pain from his shoulder. He looked around, gradually focusing on a man sitting quietly before him - the man he now knew was Jeremiah Hallam.
"Remove his gag," Jeremiah ordered, waiting to speak further as his two men obeyed his orders.
Davit Lucon had been beaten in the night, the fresh cuts and bruises evidence of their attentions. Never had the gag been removed though, and nobody had spoken to him before. He coughed as the foul rag was taken from his mouth, gasping in air to his protesting lungs. He stared at Jeremiah. "What do you want?" he snarled. "I have powerful friends who won't take kindly to your treatment of me!"
Jeremiah laughed coldly. "If you are referring to your friend Thomas Spense, I am afraid you will find that he holds no sway over this town... indeed, I am the only power here that you need to worry about."
"I asked you what do you want?" Davit sneered, although he did not seem so certain of himself any more. He wondered if he could buy his way out of this, before realised he was shirtless, his money already gone.
"Information - on you, the Governor and your stinking little deal... what did he pay you?" Jeremiah demanded
"For what?" he replied, momentarily confused.
Jeremiah took a slow drink from the bottle beside him. "The false statement against the Black Pearl would be a start..."
"Why should I tell you?" he argued, momentarily shaken that the man knew about that.
Jeremiah nodded, his man bringing the hot iron against the bare flesh of his back. Davit arched in agony from the searing iron, screaming in agony. "I do not like to repeat myself..." Jeremiah threatened, nodding again when the answer was not forthcoming.
Davit cried out in pain again. "Alright!" he shouted. "Alright!" For a moment he hung there, gasping in pain before facing Jeremiah. "Two hundred gold - but I'd have done it for pleasure," he shouted.
"Why?" Jeremiah pressed. He knew a little of the feud between the Sparrows and this man, but wanted to know more... and he wanted the truth.
"For Sparrow, his bitch of a wife, for that bastard Lact - pick your reason!" he spat.
Jeremiah spoke quietly, but his voice carried easily to those in the room. "I am more interested in your reason."
Davit watched as one of the men waved the hot iron before his face. He struggled wildly to avoid it. "Lact hanged my brother over that stupid bitch crying rape!" he cried out desperately.
Jeremiah held his hand up, hearing footsteps behind him, bidding the man behind him remain. Although he understood his need to interrupt, now that Davit was talking he did not want him silenced. He raised an eyebrow, fitting another piece of the jigsaw in place. "I heard he almost killed her..."
"She deserved it - the whore!" Davit spat. "And so did Lact! He hanged Arnaud just because it was their home port - over that stupid bitch!"
"So what did you do..." Jeremiah asked.
Davit hung there in sullen silence until he felt the heat of the iron approaching. "No... no..." he pleaded. "I'll talk!" The iron pressed against his back and he screamed in agony. "Please! I'll talk"! he begged.
Jeremiah continued. "So..."
"I betrayed Lact to Sparrow for the reward - thought he'd kill him. Didn't know the woman was his wife until later..." Davit gasped, frantic to get the words out to stop the iron again.
"How..." Jeremiah frowned.
"I bumped into some of his old crew in New Orleans. They told me the truth and that Jean Claude was alive..." He felt the heat of the iron again. "No! I'm talking!" he pleaded.
Jeremiah held up his hand, the man stopped. "And the false statement?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.
"The ship I was working on was sunk by pirates. I was rescued and taken to Port Royal. I heard that the Governor hated the Sparrows and thought to get my revenge and to make money out of it..."
"Did the Governor know your statement was false?" he asked cautiously.
Davit laughed. "He knew alright. Even helped with the wording!"
"And what of your purpose here?" Jeremiah demanded.
Davit wriggled, fearful of the iron touching him again. "He wanted his granddaughter back... five hundred gold and he didn't care how! Finding the whore was a bonus!"
"Except that it did not quite work out for you, did it Davit?" Jeremiah said, almost conversationally. He turned to the men behind him. "Satisfied?"
Jack stepped forward into the light, closely followed by Jean Claude. "We have our answers. He is all yours," he sighed wishing that his wife's rape had not been spoken of. He leaned close to Jeremiah, whispering. "Although if any word of th' treatment of m' wife becomes general knowledge I'll be th' one asking questions," he threatened.
Jeremiah nodded. Normally he would have a man beaten for daring to threaten him, but in this instance he would overlook it. He did not blame Sparrow for wanting to protect his wife over such a matter.
Davit's eyes bulged as he saw Jack and Jean Claude. He had not realised that they had been watching from the shadows. "I..." he stuttered as Jean Claude walked up to him.
"You are as stupid as your brother," he sighed, shaking his head. "But even he had more courage in the end."
"In the..." He looked across at Jeremiah Hallam in terror. "But I told you all I know!" he pleaded. "Let me go! Please!"
"Unfortunately I cannot," Jeremiah said quietly. "Cut him down," he ordered, "and lock him in the brig on the Margarite. We'll deal with him later..." he smiled darkly, "when the sharks are hungry." He watched as they dragged him away, begging and screaming until a swift fist silenced his pleas.
***
Jack alone of the Black Pearl crew stood onboard the Margarite and watched as her crew threw a bucket of chopped up fish overboard in the bay to tempt the sharks in. A crowd had gathered along the docks, some with spyglasses, intent on the spectacle before them. They waited, Davit Lucon suspended by his wrists again, dangled over the water. He wriggled in panic as the first fin broke the surface, and then another, his pleading cries stifled by the dirty gag.
"Do you know what really gets them excited?" Jeremiah asked. Davit shook his head, eyes wide with fear. "Fresh blood!" he smiled.
Jack watched without comment as Jeremiah Hallam drew his pistol, shooting Davit in one of his legs. The blood dripped onto the water below and the sharks swam towards it, sensing the feast. The rope lurched, his toes touching the water. Jack made himself watch, taking no pleasure from the sight. Davit Lucon soiled himself in fear, his disgrace obvious to all before the rope was cut and he plunged into the depths. Sleek silver bodies writhed in frenzy, the sea turned pink then red with blood. Jack nodded to Jeremiah before turning away - the end of Davit Lucon would spread around the taverns that night like wildfire and no man would consider crossing the Old Man for a very long time.
***
***
Davit Lucon was not a pirate - small time smuggler, thief, thug even, but never pirate. Although he had been to Tortuga twice he had never heard of Jeremiah Hallam before that day, but he had certainly made his acquaintance now. Jeremiah tied the end of the rope that bound his wrists to his saddle, setting a brisk trot in the darkness back towards Tortuga. It was dark and, although some of the riders held small lanterns he could see nothing but the rumps of their horses. He was forced to jog behind them, stumbling and falling often on the uneven ground. Sometimes Jeremiah would stop as soon as he fell, but more often he would let him drag for a few minutes before allowing him to regain his feet.
Davit was unsure whether to be delighted or more fearful when they finally reached the outskirts of the town. He was battered and bruised, his wrists bleeding from where the ropes chafed. Although the pistol wound in his shoulder had been bandaged in the brig, the shot had not been removed and it was bleeding again from his numerous falls. They stopped and he collapsed to the ground in exhaustion.
"Take him out back," Jeremiah ordered, untying the rope and throwing it to one of his guards. "And don't get blood on the carpet." He walked through the lobby, glancing at the ornate clock that chimed the hour. Midnight.
***
Davit woke as the water splashed his face. He groaned as the sunlight hit his eyes, automatically trying to shield them before he realised his hands were bound and above his head, his feet not quite touching the ground. He blinked, his confused mind slowly registering the pain from his shoulder. He looked around, gradually focusing on a man sitting quietly before him - the man he now knew was Jeremiah Hallam.
"Remove his gag," Jeremiah ordered, waiting to speak further as his two men obeyed his orders.
Davit Lucon had been beaten in the night, the fresh cuts and bruises evidence of their attentions. Never had the gag been removed though, and nobody had spoken to him before. He coughed as the foul rag was taken from his mouth, gasping in air to his protesting lungs. He stared at Jeremiah. "What do you want?" he snarled. "I have powerful friends who won't take kindly to your treatment of me!"
Jeremiah laughed coldly. "If you are referring to your friend Thomas Spense, I am afraid you will find that he holds no sway over this town... indeed, I am the only power here that you need to worry about."
"I asked you what do you want?" Davit sneered, although he did not seem so certain of himself any more. He wondered if he could buy his way out of this, before realised he was shirtless, his money already gone.
"Information - on you, the Governor and your stinking little deal... what did he pay you?" Jeremiah demanded
"For what?" he replied, momentarily confused.
Jeremiah took a slow drink from the bottle beside him. "The false statement against the Black Pearl would be a start..."
"Why should I tell you?" he argued, momentarily shaken that the man knew about that.
Jeremiah nodded, his man bringing the hot iron against the bare flesh of his back. Davit arched in agony from the searing iron, screaming in agony. "I do not like to repeat myself..." Jeremiah threatened, nodding again when the answer was not forthcoming.
Davit cried out in pain again. "Alright!" he shouted. "Alright!" For a moment he hung there, gasping in pain before facing Jeremiah. "Two hundred gold - but I'd have done it for pleasure," he shouted.
"Why?" Jeremiah pressed. He knew a little of the feud between the Sparrows and this man, but wanted to know more... and he wanted the truth.
"For Sparrow, his bitch of a wife, for that bastard Lact - pick your reason!" he spat.
Jeremiah spoke quietly, but his voice carried easily to those in the room. "I am more interested in your reason."
Davit watched as one of the men waved the hot iron before his face. He struggled wildly to avoid it. "Lact hanged my brother over that stupid bitch crying rape!" he cried out desperately.
Jeremiah held his hand up, hearing footsteps behind him, bidding the man behind him remain. Although he understood his need to interrupt, now that Davit was talking he did not want him silenced. He raised an eyebrow, fitting another piece of the jigsaw in place. "I heard he almost killed her..."
"She deserved it - the whore!" Davit spat. "And so did Lact! He hanged Arnaud just because it was their home port - over that stupid bitch!"
"So what did you do..." Jeremiah asked.
Davit hung there in sullen silence until he felt the heat of the iron approaching. "No... no..." he pleaded. "I'll talk!" The iron pressed against his back and he screamed in agony. "Please! I'll talk"! he begged.
Jeremiah continued. "So..."
"I betrayed Lact to Sparrow for the reward - thought he'd kill him. Didn't know the woman was his wife until later..." Davit gasped, frantic to get the words out to stop the iron again.
"How..." Jeremiah frowned.
"I bumped into some of his old crew in New Orleans. They told me the truth and that Jean Claude was alive..." He felt the heat of the iron again. "No! I'm talking!" he pleaded.
Jeremiah held up his hand, the man stopped. "And the false statement?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.
"The ship I was working on was sunk by pirates. I was rescued and taken to Port Royal. I heard that the Governor hated the Sparrows and thought to get my revenge and to make money out of it..."
"Did the Governor know your statement was false?" he asked cautiously.
Davit laughed. "He knew alright. Even helped with the wording!"
"And what of your purpose here?" Jeremiah demanded.
Davit wriggled, fearful of the iron touching him again. "He wanted his granddaughter back... five hundred gold and he didn't care how! Finding the whore was a bonus!"
"Except that it did not quite work out for you, did it Davit?" Jeremiah said, almost conversationally. He turned to the men behind him. "Satisfied?"
Jack stepped forward into the light, closely followed by Jean Claude. "We have our answers. He is all yours," he sighed wishing that his wife's rape had not been spoken of. He leaned close to Jeremiah, whispering. "Although if any word of th' treatment of m' wife becomes general knowledge I'll be th' one asking questions," he threatened.
Jeremiah nodded. Normally he would have a man beaten for daring to threaten him, but in this instance he would overlook it. He did not blame Sparrow for wanting to protect his wife over such a matter.
Davit's eyes bulged as he saw Jack and Jean Claude. He had not realised that they had been watching from the shadows. "I..." he stuttered as Jean Claude walked up to him.
"You are as stupid as your brother," he sighed, shaking his head. "But even he had more courage in the end."
"In the..." He looked across at Jeremiah Hallam in terror. "But I told you all I know!" he pleaded. "Let me go! Please!"
"Unfortunately I cannot," Jeremiah said quietly. "Cut him down," he ordered, "and lock him in the brig on the Margarite. We'll deal with him later..." he smiled darkly, "when the sharks are hungry." He watched as they dragged him away, begging and screaming until a swift fist silenced his pleas.
***
Jack alone of the Black Pearl crew stood onboard the Margarite and watched as her crew threw a bucket of chopped up fish overboard in the bay to tempt the sharks in. A crowd had gathered along the docks, some with spyglasses, intent on the spectacle before them. They waited, Davit Lucon suspended by his wrists again, dangled over the water. He wriggled in panic as the first fin broke the surface, and then another, his pleading cries stifled by the dirty gag.
"Do you know what really gets them excited?" Jeremiah asked. Davit shook his head, eyes wide with fear. "Fresh blood!" he smiled.
Jack watched without comment as Jeremiah Hallam drew his pistol, shooting Davit in one of his legs. The blood dripped onto the water below and the sharks swam towards it, sensing the feast. The rope lurched, his toes touching the water. Jack made himself watch, taking no pleasure from the sight. Davit Lucon soiled himself in fear, his disgrace obvious to all before the rope was cut and he plunged into the depths. Sleek silver bodies writhed in frenzy, the sea turned pink then red with blood. Jack nodded to Jeremiah before turning away - the end of Davit Lucon would spread around the taverns that night like wildfire and no man would consider crossing the Old Man for a very long time.
***