DISCLAIMER: I think we all know the truth. But for those who want to know, here it is: I do not claim ownership of anything you recognize. They belong to whom they belong and those people know who they are. Savvy?
Summary: For years Jack has kept his darkest secret close beside him. However, he is forced to tell Ana the truth when a mysterious figure confronts Jack and claims to know the answers Jack seeks. J/A. Rating for some violence.
Half-Life
Part 6
The flaming horseshoe remained pressed to his muscled chest much longer than was necessary and soon the blazing pain began to ebb into a burning throb and Jack took quick, deep breaths. The man frowned as he realized that Jack was becoming accustomed to the pain—at least in his exterior show—and with a dark scowl he viciously ripped the metal from Jack's chest and watched in gruesome fascination as quite a bit of skin came off with the metal, creating a fresh wound from which blood began to drip. Sweat was pouring down the pirate captain's face and his breath came in sharp, ragged gasps.
"Leave 'im alone!" Ana snapped sharply, hoping beyond all hope that somehow the feral tone in her voice would frighten the man into backing away from her captain.
The man chose to ignore Ana's outburst and his gaze remained curiously fixed on Jack's pale, sweat-soaked face. "When that horse kicked you it broke a few bones, thereby rendering you completely useless for work for quite awhile. After taking into account the doctor bills and the amount of money your stunt prevented you from earning, your father was charged quite a bit of undue expense."
As the strange man walked back to the fire Jack's head dropped forward and he allowed all the pain he was feeling to surface on his features. No sense in wasting energy with keeping the pained expression at bay when his nemesis was no longer looking. Jack struggled to slow his rasping breathing, but every breath sent fire coursing through his chest and the muscles involuntarily constricted against the sensation. He closed his eyes and forced himself to focus.
"Your father took you on as a cabin boy when you were ten. Did you know that, Jack?" When Jack didn't reply the man cast a glance at the pirate captain out of the corner of his eye and grinned triumphantly when he took in Jack's almost-defeated expression. Ana's obvious concern over her captain only served to broaden his grin and pride. "You caused so many problems to everyone onboard that it's a wonder you weren't fed to the sharks in the first week."
Jack's eyes opened ever so slightly and he forced himself to look up at the man who was silhouetted against the flickering forge flames. When he realized that the man wasn't looking his way he allowed his eyes to drift shut again and the calming embrace of half-consciousness welcomed him.
"For three years you tormented the merchant sailors and the day you turned thirteen is the day the real trouble began."
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"Jack!" The yell filled with rage and pure hatred echoed across the deck and rang up into the rigging. The few crewmen who were near their enraged captain were barely able to suppress a shudder and wince of sympathy for the boy on the receiving end of the captain's anger. Even the ship herself groaned as if she were praying for the lad.
"Aye sir?" A mocking voice called nonchalantly down from a high point of crossing lines in the rigging. The voice belonged to a teenaged boy clad in a loose white shirt that emphasized his lightly tanned muscular chest and dark breeches. His short-cropped black locks flew wildly in the strong winds that blew high in the rigging and threatened to pull him from his makeshift hammock of rope and mast.
The captain's heated gaze traveled upward and landed on the insolent youth. The sight of the boy lounging worthlessly in the rigging made the older man's blood boil. "On deck. Now!"
With an overworked sigh Jack slipped down the ropes, moving as nimbly as any monkey ever could, until he stood before his captain on the deck. His stance managed to convey insubordination and dislike whilst his facial features remained coy. "You called, father?" The mocking tone was still present in his voice, though it was obvious that he was attempting to mask it—barely.
"How do you explain the disabled rudder chain and the shredded sail? We'll loose days while we have to stop and repair or replace these!"
"Why do you think I would know anything about it?" The boy asked casually, tossing a stray lock of hair away from his left eye.
"Because you are the only idiotic troublemaker on this ship. If anything happened to that chain, it's your fault."
"That's not fair father!"
"Call me Captain!" The sharp order was accompanied by an even sharper backhanded slap that sent the young boy reeling to the deck with one hand tenderly pressed to his cheek. "You're thirteen and it's past time for you to act like it."
Jack was dragged roughly to his feet, the fact that his lip was split and bleeding ignored. The captain brought the youth to the top of the stairs leading below and carelessly tossed the boy down them, not caring that Jack hit the sharp edges of the stairs hard enough to draw blood. When Jack came to a stop at the base of the stairs, sprawled uncomfortably on the ground, the older man proceeded down as well.
Jack weakly tried to pick himself up off the deck but his right ankle wasn't cooperating properly. Every time he tried to put weight on it pain flared up and down his leg and dropped him to the deck once more.
A tight fist closed around his shirtfront and dragged him from the ground, carrying him through the air and slowly choking him as they made their way to a clear, dimly lit space of the hold. Jack once again met the hard floorboards close and personal as his father dropped the boy to the deck.
"What's wrong father?" Jack whispered weakly, trying to pick himself up once more. Another slap sent him crashing into the bulkhead. As Jack touched down on the ground again he spit out a mouthful of blood which was accompanied by a tooth.
"You will speak only when you have permission. It's about time you learned some manners and a ship's code of conduct."
Jack sat up sorely, gently massaging his jaw and wincing at the pain doing so caused. "Manners? I already ha-" Jack fell back against the hull again, this time from a punch that landed hard on his left cheek. Spots danced across his vision and he felt as if the world were spinning around him.
"When will you ever learn, boy?"
"Perhaps when you start-" The punch that met the boy for his retort snapped his head around, drawing a small crack from his neck. Jack shook his head feebly and received a kick in the jaw that sent his head careening back into the bulkhead. His world faded to black even as his captain continued to beat him.
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"Cap'n, we're under attack!" The call was accompanied by the crushing echo of cannon fire but no hits were landed on either ship.
The merchant captain took one last disgusted look at the bloodied, bruised, unconscious body of his son lying awkward and prone on the floor before he dashed up to the main deck. He silently vowed to finish teaching his son lessons when a more opportune moment arrived.
As he stepped onto the main deck and took a quick look around at his wild, disorderly crew a second round of cannon fire resonated between the two ships. Two sets of chain shot shredded the heavy mainsails and a ball punctured the merchant vessel mere inches above her waterline. The waves created from the frantic motions on both ships lapped up into the merchant's hold, sloshing around the lower deck before draining partially back out into the sea.
"Colors?" the captain demanded, turning to look at the attacking ship for himself. His breath caught in his throat even before the watch called down from the crow's nest.
"They're flying the Jolly Roger, Cap'n! It's the Doomsayer!"
The chaotic activity aboard the merchant vessel came to a momentary halt. All the sailors had heard many tales of the Doomsayer and none held a promising end for the prey. She was the strongest pirate menace in the Caribbean and armed to fight down a man-o-war. But despite all the tales Captain Nigel was not about to give up without a fight. It wasn't his style.
The Doomsayer, mightiest pirate vessel in the Caribbean, pulled alongside the small merchantman, dwarfing the smaller ship by her mere presence. Without missing a beat the call demanding a surrender was passed across the small distance between the ships. Captain Nigel stood his ground, refusing to give into the pirates. Instead, he ordered the cannons to be loaded. Before one shot could be loaded the pirates were swarming the smaller ship, killing foes left and right.
'This will never do,' Nigel thought angrily to himself as he watched his men fall around him. 'At the very least I can set one thing right.' With that single, vile thought in mind he slipped out of the pirates' line of view and down into the cargo hold.
When he came upon the spot where his son still lay surrounded by the seawater seeping into the ship's hold he turned away from the sight but felt no remorse for the boy's current condition. Instead of going straight to the boy he gathered lengths of rope and a burlap sack. When he did get near to his son he made quick work of binding Jack's ankles and wrists and lashing the boy's arms tight to his side. As a finishing touch he thrust a filthy kerchief into the boy's mouth and tied it behind his head, creating a gag.
When Nigel prepared to toss his son into the large burlap sack he was caught completely off-guard by the fact that the boy was half-conscious and ready to fight back. When Jack resisted his father's heavy hands dragging him into the dark, air-smothering confines of the sack Nigel grouped around for something to aid him. His hand fell on a broken compass atop a nearby crate. After tossing the compass lightly to check its weight he deemed it worthy of the task and brutally brought the hard box down on Jack's skull. As the sharp corner of the compass bit into his flesh and the force of the impact cast his world into darkness the boy fell to the hold floor, as limp as a wet noodle.
Without a second thought Nigel shoved Jack's unresisting body into the sack and cast the bloodied compass in with the boy. He tied the sack shut with deft movements and tossed it roughly over his shoulder, hauling it up to the main deck.
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Slashing down yet another opponent, William "Bootstrap Bill" Turner looked up when he caught a blur of non-battle movement out of the corner of his eye. Shaking his matted light brown hair away from his eyes he fixed his steady gaze on what he had first seen at a glance. A high-ranked officer from the merchant vessel—perhaps the captain who had not been heard of since the pirates had boarded—was lugging a weighted burlap sack toward the ship's railing and doing so with quite a bit of haste.
Bootstrap quirked his head and quickly calculated the likelihood of the sack containing something of value. The odds were that the sack's contents were indeed valuable; why else would the captain be expelling them from the pirates' reach if not? Bootstrap tightened his grip on his cutlass and moved toward the official with a determined stride.
Before he was able to reach the merchant captain the sack was sitting precariously on the railing. After a moment's hesitation the captain gave the sack a shove, sending it—and its contents—plummeting to the churning water below. When Bootstrap came to the rail the official had already disappeared amongst the fight and the pirate found a strange stain on the ship's railing.
Without bothering to consider the possibilities Bootstrap dropped his sword and pistol to the deck and then leapt overboard, hitting the water moments after the sack. Ignoring the shock of the semi-cool Caribbean water he forced himself to dive past the layers of bubbles clouding his vision. The saltwater stung his eyes but he ignored the flaring pain by keeping his mind set on the prize: the sack.
Finally, not too far below his current position, he spotted the dark form of the sack sinking none too slowly towards the crushing depths of the sea.
Bootstrap forced himself to swim down faster and he was soon able to catch up with the sack, barely. He grabbed a solid handful of the trailing material above the knot holding the sack shut and dragged the burlap closer to him with great effort. The weight of the sack, even underwater, surprised him but he wrapped an arm around the sack and began kicking for the surface.
Bootstrap and his newly acquired sack broke the surface with a splash and the pirate took in great gulps of air while he treaded water, keeping both him and the sack afloat as best he could. Soon one of his fellow crewmembers appeared at the rail of the victorious Doomsayer.
"Little help, mate?" Bootstrap called urgently while waving his free hand momentarily at his crewmate. The other pirate nodded and disappeared further onto the ship's deck. Shuffling noises and calls summoning help reached Bootstrap's ears and soon after a rope smacked the water to his left. With deft movements Bootstrap tied the rope around his waist and fixed a firm hold on the sack. He tugged on the rope twice and was momentarily hoisted from the water.
When Bootstrap landed on the ship's deck with the large burlap sack in his arms the crew gathered around the two dripping figures. The Doomsayer's captain moved to the front of the huddle, crewmen scurrying wildly to clear his path. The pirate captain looked down at Bootstrap sternly from beneath the rim of his large-feathered hat.
"Bootstrap, explain yerself."
"The merchant captain threw this overboard, sir. I thought it might be of worth and so I retrieved it, sir." Bootstrap explained evenly, indicating the sodden sack in his arms with a nudge.
"You know the code. Open it and we'll share whatever is inside per the agreement signed by all members of this 'ere crew."
Without acknowledging his captain's order Bootstrap drew a knife from his boot and freed himself of the rope surrounding his waist. He then turned his attentions to the sack sitting limply on the deck between his legs. Bootstrap carefully but quickly cut the sack open beneath the knot and allowed the sides of the sack to fall to the ground.
Not one of the pirates were prepared for what they would find.
Bootstrap stared wide-eyed down at the limp, bloodied and bruised boy that lay tied before him. The child's dark hair was matted with saltwater and blood and a large amount of crimson liquid stained his body. The boy's chest rose and fell irregularly and his skin was starkly pale beneath its tan. Beside the boy, lying on the burlap, was a blood-stained compass.
Bootstrap ripped his own soggy shirtsleeve and wrapped it tightly around the youth's head in an attempt to stem the flow of blood from the oddly-shaped gouge in his forehead. The boy trembled every once in awhile as his breathing became ragged; a sure sign that a fever and infection was already setting in. Bootstrap carefully cut the bindings that held the boy's limbs at such awkward angles and pried the gag from the lad's mouth.
"Toss 'im back overboard, we've no use for 'im," the captain declared evenly, turning his back on the sight of Bootstrap tending to the child with the assurance that his order would be carried out.
Bootstrap was on his feet in an instant, now holding the boy protectively in his arms. His jaw was set stubbornly. "I'm sorry sir, but we can't do that! He's just a boy and still alive at that-"
"Bootstrap," the captain snapped, spinning on his heel and cutting the other pirate off. "'e isn't strong enough. You know that only the strong ones survive, or at least you should. 'e will be dead soon and we'll 'ave to throw 'im overboard at that juncture in time anyway."
"He's strong enough, captain. I can't explain it, but I know he is."
The captain silently pondered the situation for a moment. Despite Bootstrap's certainty that the lad would live, he couldn't bring himself to believe it. But what would it hurt to grant a loyal crewman one small request? "Very well Bootstrap, 'e's your responsibility 'till 'e dies. We'll drop you two off at the next port we put into. I'll say it now, though: I highly doubt yer new protégé will make it that long. And know that we cannot spare any medications."
Bootstrap nodded his agreement of the terms of him keeping the boy. "Aye sir. Thank you sir."