Interlude

I feel my hands trembling when they slowly pull the noose over my head. Feel the rope scratch over my skin. In that moment, I want to run away. But I am too scared. I feel my heart beating up in my throat. My breathing is shallow. I'm licking my lips. I don't hear the guy reading my offenses. I look around. I feel. I feel, in that very moment, everything and everyone around me. I feel the clothing on my skin, and my hair brushing against my cheek. I feel the soldiers' warmth next to me. I feel the wind on my face, the rain on my skin. The excitement of the crowd. I feel everyone of you.

Then, I hear the drum roll. I freeze, and I realize I'm suddenly holding my breath. I smile, a wry smile, and tell myself that I won't need that in some seconds, so I better keep breathing as long as I can. So I breathe, a little bit. And then, I hear the drum roll stop. I think my heart skips a beat. Oh God. What's going to happen now? And in that second, I am terrified. There is a high-pitched, ringing sound in my ears that drowns out all the other noise. But one thing I hear very clearly: I hear the wooden, scratching sound of the man pulling the lever. I stop breathing. I wait. I tense, and I feel every muscle in my body tighten. And I prepare, though I don't really know what I am preparing for. And … nothing happens. For some seconds, I think, I feel no different. Am I dead already? Does it feel like that to die? I felt nothing, no pain. It's not so bad, actually. But then, I turn my head and I see the consternate looks of the soldiers. Then I figure. The trapdoor didn't work. I am not dead. I didn't fall, I am still standing straight. Christ in a cannon, I am truly the unluckiest pirate.

They are talking, but I don't really hear them.

Then, they pull the noose back over my head, and lead me down the steps. I feel their grip tighten on my upper arms. Yeah, I'm swaying a bit. I am – just a tiny little bit – nervous. My knees feel like butter. And my hands are so cold. Why is this happening to me.

They test the trapdoor. And it works perfectly. Fine. The sound makes all the hair on my arms stand up.

The next line I hear very clearly: "Bring him back up." But I don't want to go back up, really.

One of the soldiers pulls me by the elbow, and they walk me up the steps again. And once again the noose wraps itself around my neck. I feel the sweat on my nose, despite the rain and the cold. The warm breath that heats up my upper lip. The metal of the rings in my lip is smooth. I clench my teeth around it, and I flinch when I feel it on the back of my teeth. It hurts, and it's a strange pain. Haven't felt it before. I can't really stand now, shifting my weight from one leg to the other, my knees are shaking a bit. My throat is burning from my hectic breathing. I tell myself I'm calmer now. I look around while the drums roll, and then suddenly, I see him, him whom I wanted to see most of all, and the only familiar face in a crowd of strangers. Jack. There he is. And only now I feel tears welling in my eyes. Jack. God, thank you. Thank you for bringing him here. I look at him and he looks back. I'm sorry, because I know I cannot look away now, not anymore. His eyes are the only thing I want to see now. The only thing that I want to be seen by. I blink, and a tear begins to search its way down my cheek.

Dammit. I thought I could go without crying. Maybe he can't tell if from the rain. But I know he can. He doesn't cry, though, and I'm thankful for that. He looks very calm. I smile. It's good you are here. He calms me down, a little. And so I mouth a soundless "I love you" with my lips. And now he smiles back and mouths either "I know", or "I too". Doesn't matter, really. I know. And he's bowing his little Namasthé, when the drums stop, and I quickly close my eye. I don't want to see it, see me falling. But … nothing happens. Oh, come on. This can't be. I open my eye, and look for Jack. He's still in the same spot, and he looks very pale now.

"This can't be!" is all I hear, one of the soldiers whispers it. And I feel my knees giving in. Please, this has got to be a very weird joke. No, you're right, this can't be. I feel one of the soldiers reaching for me once again, because I am falling forward, and I wonder, are they afraid I would – maybe – strangle to death? I almost laugh on that.

This time, he pulls my eye patch off with the noose, and I quickly close my lids tight as a reaction. He just shoves the piece of leather a little up my forehead, it's too tightly wrapped in my hair to actually be brushed off. While they lead me down from the gallows again, he realizes it. And he looks at me almost in shock. Oh, no worries, it's not the end of the world. The end of the world – but just for me, mind you, it's up there.

This time, my knees won't hold. Although they try to keep me standing, I sit down on the steps, and I can't really breathe anymore. There's a dull pain in my chest. The soldier that removed the patch stands before me now and he doesn't know what to do. I hold out my cuffed hands from behind my back, showing him, hey, fella, look – obviously, I can't do it myself.

"Could you be so kind?" I say, and I realize how close my voice is to breaking.

He throws me one more confused glance, he didn't really expect me to say this. Or, say it like that. Too soft spoken for a pirate, for your taste? And he drops to a knee very uneasily, reaching out to pull the eye patch back over the empty socket. For a second I think … I could kick him now, jump up and run, disappear into the crowd.

Jack is here, my crew is somewhere. They could take me. Take me away.

But … what for? No, my reasons to live died that day, with her.

And so I say: "Thank you." Nothing more.