For the sake of those who don't enjoy that stuff so much, I left the chapter with the actual flogging out, it is rather a torture fic and pretty graphic. Those who are interested are most welcome to go and read it in my short fic A Little Sparrow here on
This chapter starts out with a third person narration from the point of view of Private William Turner. Just as to avoid some utter confusion – he is actually William Turner, Senior; thus the young Bootstrap Bill.
Chapter 1 Still Prettier than MePrivate William Turner entered the brig with his rifle ready. He had no idea how many pirates were left on the ship. But what he saw when he came to what appeared to be the hold made him wary. There was a man, small of build, dark complexion, long hair, shabby clothes, red bandana. Kneeling on the wet floor. A pirate, most likely. His mind instructed William to shoot. But something in the eyes of the man made him lower his weapon instantly. When the pirate moved from the dark, Turner saw that in his arms, he carried another person. The Private couldn't even tell if it was a man or a woman first, for the body and the face was covered in a layer of wet, glittering red. It was a small person he held, bare footed, wearing no shirt. William realized it was a boy, barely older than 20. He wasn't even sure if that gaunt, bloody thing was still alive. Then, the boy moved, and a hoarse sound escaped his lips. William stared at him in some sort of dazed fascination. What for Goodness Sake had happened to him? William had never seen someone so beat up, and still breathing. There were several plaits of long black hair dangling from his head, and from some of them, blood oozed to the floor in glutinous drops of dark red.
The pirate approached Private Turner.
"I don't mean to fight, I don't mean to surrender, either. He needs help. I do."
The man stared William down, and he wasn't sure why, but something about the tone of the pirate's voice made him put his weapon aside. He gave the couple a questioning look while he got out of his coat and hung it loosely onto the bleeding shoulders of the younger man.
"A flogging?" William had not seen whipping wounds close enough before, but he couldn't imagine what else would result in cuts like that. The pirate glanced at the Marine, and then gave him a short nod. Then, he got down and set the boy onto his knees on the floor, to wrap the garment around his bleeding chest. William reached out and helped the man to hold the hurt one. When he withdrew his hands, he realized that his palms were red. He had the intention of wiping them on his breeches, but somehow, he could not. It wasn't just dirt. This was blood, blood of a person that he could look into the face just now. God, that man had cuts even there. And what was wrong with that eye of his? Was it cut? Flogged, with what? Animal claws? Thoughts racing through his mind, he remained kneeling on the floor with his bloody palms raised. The pirate took the boy up again and while doing so, found William's gaze. Held it, until William flinched. Then he simply walked past him and towards the main deck. The Private now hesitantly cleaned his hands on his clothes and picked up his rifle. Followed them, unsure about what to think. He felt like the pirate had hit him on the head, without even touching him.
-
Am I dead? There's a lot of pain all over me, so, unless I am already in Hell, I'm afraid I'm still alive. I'm cold, and shivering. I can't open my eyes. I feel I'm lying on my stomach, half on someone's body. It must be Jack. My head rests on his shoulder, my left arm on his chest. And his arm is on my back. I try to raise my left hand to my head. It hurts to move. There is something, some cloth, wrapped around my face. I want to touch it to make sure. But then Jack's hands put mine down, carefully, back onto his chest.
"Easy, lad."
I hear my brother's voice.
"I'm cold." I say.
I feel my body quiver. Jack puts his hands onto my shoulders and starts to rub my arms, but when he comes to the wounds just above my elbows, he quickly stops it. Instead he takes me in his arms and carefully pulls me closer to himself. His shirt sticks to the cuts on my chest.
We're still on some ship, but it smells differently from Corr's.
"There is a cloth covering your left eye. I'm afraid it doesn't look too good. Your right eye is bruised, but it is not cut. It will be alright. Try not to open it, let it be. I have tended your wounds. They are not too bad."
I know by the tone of his voice that he's lying. But I smile.
"Have you told Corr?" I ask, even tough I know his answer.
"About the Pearl? No. Nothing."
"How did we get out?"
Jack laughs. With my eyes closed, I listen to the sound of his voice.
"Well, they'll always remember that day as the day they almost broke Captain Jack Sparrow. They were attacked by the Navy, the second I almost decided to tell them how to find the Pearl. Corr's ship was sunk a couple of days ago. Fortunately they'd bombed it before, and so I could get out of my chains when the wood broke. In all the chaos, we just slipped out. And amidst all that wreckage we escaped. We're back on the Pearl now. Everything will be fine."
I smile.
"Jack."
"Aye?"
"This is not the Pearl. I can tell it by the smell. It's too late to make my passing easy. Tell me where we really are."
Jack sighs.
"The Navy ship. They took us prisoner. I then figured this was the best place to take care of your wounds anyway. But don't worry, I'll get us out soon."
I sigh and nod. Whatever, Jack. I bury my face in his shirt and smell his sweat. Breathe in deep. One of my earliest memories. Then I try to rest in his arms. His hands stoke my cheek and my hair, which is hard with dried blood.
"Go to sleep."
-
"On three. One, t-" and he pulls hard.
There's a loud crack in one of the joints and my neck turns hot with the pain. My shoulder had been dislocated. Jack holds out his hand to me.
"Alright?"
"Aye, fantastic."
I grab it, but with the other arm. Some of the wounds have reopened. I feel blood collecting in my armpit.
"I'll just really have to think about going out to drink with you next time. It doesn't do me any good, or so it seems." I try to move my arm. "Are you alright yourself?"
Jack pulls a face. "I believe some of me ribs are broken. And I have lost two teeth."
When he says 'teeth' he spits. I laugh, despite myself and the pain in my shoulder.
"Apparently." I say. He grins, and I can see the holes where the teeth were.
-
It is very calm on the Navy ship, and nothing really happens. We been here for a couple of days. We haven't gotten any food so far, and I am getting really hungry. But I'm not sure if I could eat. My throat is sore. The whip has damaged something inside as it wrapped around my neck. My upper lip is torn. And I think there are some broken bones in my right wrist. Navy guys have brought us some water and bandages; and one of them even cared so much to spare a shirt. Good boys. Jack has wrapped my wrist so tight I feel like there's no blood left in my fingers. At least it has stopped the hurt. Gone numb instead.
In the cell on the other side, some of the Corr crew have moved in. Few have survived, fewer have been caught, and their Captain is not among them. Dead? I doubt it. He's not the Captain to go down with his ship.
Me right eye is actually getting better quickly, but to me it seems the pain in the left one increases hourly. I'm having the most terrible headaches I can imagine. The roots of my hair ache. My teeth do. My ears do. Even my eyebrows. Can eyelashes hurt? If so, mine do. The socket's not going numb. It's burning. But at least the pain is so intense that I hardly feel the aching of my skin. My cherished tattoos have suffered, but I think some of them could look almost good again with a little care. It is actually an interesting way of inspecting your mashed skin only to think: 'Will I be able to tattoo over the scars?'
-
"How's you feelin?" Jack asks.
"Great. Just great."
Jack loosens the cloth that covers my eye wound and looks at my left eye. Well, looks at what is left from my left eye. He grits his teeth and pulls a face.
"This is lookin rather badly."
"Thanks Jack, you really make me feel better." Jack quickly puts his hand under my chin and gives me his sweetest smile.
"Don't worry, lad. You're still prettier than me."
Even I have to laugh then. There are plenty of lasses who would strongly disagree with him now.
Jack looks over his shoulder and finds the other inmates disinterested in us. He then whispers: "Listen, Hal, I got an idea how we get out. You know, me hear of pirates who go free after telling the Navy about other pirate guys. See, we could tell them all we know about Corr and his crew."
I frown. "But we know nothing about them."
"Who cares? We make things up. The Navy guys don't know and no-one will believe Corr."
"What if he tells them about us first? If there's such an easy way out."
That makes Jack think. "Well … but we have the compassion bonus. You're hurt. We're not the bad pirates here. They found us prisoner, so why should we lie? Maybe we can get those wounds of yours a little more bleeding and every court would pity this handsome young gentleman."
"Yeah, great. We'll be free then but me bled to death. You leave me skin alone, wounds have only just closed. Besides, bleeding or not, me ain't no gentleman and everyone would notice."
"Aye, we work on the details later. But the concept is good."
"Well, after all it's the one and only chance we have, and that matter-of-factly makes it the best one."
-
Dark ocean, I'm in the water. Salt burns in my eyes. The Black Pearl under full sails. Leaving me behind.
"Wait!" Don't leave me alone!
But I am alone.
I wake with a start.
"Pipe down over there! Some people want to get rest 'ere." One of the Corr crew sleepily muttering from the other side. My back hurts. But I lie down again onto it. The shirt is wet. Sweat or blood, I can't say, for it is dark outside, no light oozing in through the cracks in the wall. Jack rolls over to me.
"Rest on me belly once again, will ye? Won't be as hard and cold."
"I'm fine."
"Shut up and come 'ere."
I place my head on his shoulder again. Look at him. He gives me a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Jack looks incredibly tired. How will this go on? Things would be so much easier for him if I died. Jack stares into my eyes and frowns.
"Whate'er you were just thinking, stop it." He carefully wipes sweat from my forehead.
"Go to sleep."
I will sleep.
-
Am I sleeping?
"The boy is going to die. Is he still breathing, anyway?"
I don't recognize the voice. British accent. Someone touches my face.
"Faintly, but he is." Another Brit.
"Should we send the doctor down?"
"He has enough to do with our own men that were wounded in battle. When he's done with them, this man will be dead already. Leave him like this. Useless to bother the doc with him."
"Gentlemen," now this is Jack, "I most certainly understand yer dilemma, but unlike you I am unwilling to give up jus' yet. If you be so kind as to leave me fresh bandages and some salt, I shall not interfere with you again, and neither will he."
Silence.
"For God's sake, leave them what he asks for then. We will not miss it and for that boy, it will probably make no difference. They will both hang, any way."
I have not opened my eyes. I will not. I hear their steps, walking away. Sleep.
-
Am I awake? It burns. I can't even localize where. It hurts and I want it to stop. Through half-closed eyes I see Jack, kneeling next to me, occupied with the wounds on my arm. Feels like he has his whole hand inside me flesh. One thing before I doze off, "Can you please be careful with the tattoos?" Back to sleep again.
-
I'm on horseback. It's a bright summer day. Wide open fields. Wind in my hair. The horse gallops through the grass. I duck into its mane. The sun is hot on my back. Pace slows down. I sit back in the saddle, easing up. We approach a small forest. I feel a streak of sweat running down my chest. It's incredibly hot. I can't wait for the shade of the trees. But the heat increases, even though we've entered the shadowy lane. I bring the horse to a halt. It's getting so hot I can't breathe. I cough.
Then I wake up, to realize the heat comes from my back, and from the salt on it. I open my mouth and gasp for air. It hurts. Very badly.
"Stop it!", I scream, "Stop it! Stop!"
Jack grabs hold of my shoulders from behind. "Just some more seconds, hold on."
I bury my fingernails in the dirt of the planks. Clench my teeth. Press my forehead to the ground so fiercely I can hear a ringing in my ears. I try hard but I can't hold back the screams. This is worse than the flogging. I feel I'm sweating from every pore. Breathing heavily. Make it stop, please, please make it stop.
And it stops, eventually.