Chapter 22: The Grim Reaper
Jack stood in his cabin staring at the plans that he had drawn up. He traced his finger along the route of the North Point team and sighed. He glanced up at the painting.
"Damn to hell whatever mutton head created the Pearl," he muttered. He began to roll up the charts and placed them in the shelf under his bunk.
There was a quick knock on the door.
"Whoever it is better have something good to tell me or don't come in!" Jack called mindlessly.
The door opened and a RN sailor walked in. Jack stared at him. He couldn't be more than 25 years old. He carried a set of rolled up charts under his right arm. He looked very nervous as he shut the door behind him.
"Uh…Commodore Sparrow…uh…sir?"
"Spit it out boy, what do ye need?"
"I…Before I joined Commodore Norrington, I was part of the Triangular Trade." Jack, who had been looking at the painting and stroking his chin, froze.
"What?" He turned and stared at the man.
The man had the grace to look uncomfortable. "It was before Dawg took over, sir. I joined it because the pay was good."
"Why did you leave?"
"Didn't like the way Dawg did things."
Jack stalked to the man. "So you can tell me about Dawg?"
"Aye, sir. And his fleet. That's what these are."
He looked at the table, asking Jack's permission to use it with his eyes. Jack nodded curtly. The man unfurled the charts. They ended up being plans for various ships.
Jack stared at the one on top.
"This is the main barge ship. The Grim Reaper. I helped build her, so I know much about her."
"Tell me," Jack said urgently.
"She is a first rate ship," at those words, Jack paled slightly.
"She has 100 guns?"
"112, actually." Jack moaned. This wasn't looking up.
"Dawg had the middle and lower decks removed to make one giant hold for the black ivory. At the poop deck he has a set of three blockades, so he can chain people there and beat them at his leisure. Coming off the Maintop mast Yard he has a set of gallows to hang the crew members who displease him. He keelhauls many of his crew members."
Jack made a face. Keelhauling was not a pleasant way to go. He remembered well watching members of Barbossa's crew being dragged under the keel as a means of torture.
"Continue," he said curtly.
"Right, now he has a total of twelve ships in his fleet. The rest are his consort ships, protecting the Reaper from…well, from people like us. The Deviance is a third rater, and sails with no Africans in her. She is strictly a gun ship. The Black Devil is a fourth rate, and is a gun ship only. The rest of the ships are gun ships. They trade positions at random times so they're never in the same spot."
Jack looked at the plans for the barge ship. She was huge. "Tell me what you can about Dawg."
"He has red hair," Jack looked up at that, it was a strange occurrence on the sea. "He is a very clean man. His hands are uncalloused by work. However, he is very good with whips. They are extensions of his arm. They seem do to whatever he wishes them to do."
"He makes his crew do all the work. He uses the Admiral's quarters as his private quarters." The man looked at Jack. "In short, sir, he's an ass."
Jack grinned lopsidedly. "Well, we knew that."
"You've been a very large help, sailor, what it your rank?"
"Able Seamen."
"Consider yourself a midshipmen," Jack muttered, staring at the plans. It was a big jump in rank, and the sailor looked surprised.
"Thank you very much Commodore!"
"hnnn…" Jack said.
The Midshipmen left as quietly as possible. Jack looked up as the door shut.
"Grim Reaper indeed…"
The Grim Reaper was sailing along at full sail, making a good 12 knots. Her consort ships sailed around her in a continuing circle. The sea was calm, and there was just enough wind to fill the sails. Visibility was high, and nothing could bring Dawg's spirits down.
Except that damnable woman Morgan Sparrow Turner.
Four days of the utmost and despicable torture he could think of, and she still wasn't talking to him.
He slammed his fist on the table.
"God I hate that girl!" He looked at his eternally silent crew. "Bring her up, clean her, and tie her to the blockades," he said carelessly. He shooed them out the door and returned to his desk.
He opened the drawer and pulled out one of his whips. He caressed it and smiled. He headed out the door and to the blockades.
Morgan knelt at the blockades again. She had a slight smile on her face as she watched Dawg walk up to her.
"What are you smiling about, wench?" he sneered.
Morgan laughed. "It's so pretty, isn't it? The way the colors blend together. And the way the ship rocks, like a baby in a cradle."
Dawg stared at her in confusion. She had very obviously lost her mind. His crew stared at each other.
She looked at Dawg. "I see him you know? Death. He's quite handsome. Rides a big black horsey. I like his horsey."
"What in the hell?"
Dawg looked around at his men, and then back at Morgan, who was singing a mindless tune under her breath. He looked closer at her. There were marks around her genital area. He growled and spun to face his crew.
"Did any of you hear me when I specifically said not to do anything to her? WHO WAS IT?"
Four men stepped forward, knowing it was better to tell him now than to let him find out through secondary sources. Dawg looked at them with contempt.
"Rogers," he said coldly, "bring four nooses from the supply room." Rogers ran to comply. The four men began to breath harder than normal. Morgan was giggling behind him.
"There's a pretty horsey! I like the horsey."
Dawg looked back at her, "Someone gag her please."
Morgan's eyes danced with laughter as the dirty gag was tied around her mouth.
Rogers returned with the nooses. Dawg gestured and the nooses were slipped on the necks of the men.
"Well, start climbing." The four men looked dejectedly at each other and began to climb. When they reached the yard arm they stopped and balanced awkwardly on the narrow beam.
"Now," Dawg bellowed up to them, "tie the end to the yard arm, and jump!"
The men complied with shaky hands. You see, Ms. Tuner, obedient til the bitter end."
Morgan grunted, her eyes dancing with malice as the men stood back up.
They jumped.
At the same instant, the gag fell from Morgan's mouth. She began laughing hysterically, looking straight at Dawg.
The bodies blew in the breeze.
"Good God, someone shut her up!" Dawg yelled. Rogers made a move to slap her, and Morgan dodged out of his way; she had slipped from the chains.
She stared at Dawg, all pretense of insanity gone. She smiled benignly at him. Two men grabbed her wrist and started to drag her back to the hold.
"He comes for you, Dawg. And when his scythe drops and touches your forehead, I will be there to watch, and I will laugh as you die a slow, painful death." She looked at him coldly. "You will die you son of a bitch, and I will be there."
She turned and walked willingly with the two men. She called over her shoulder just as they walked down into the hold.
"Sweet dreams, Dawg, sweet dreams."
Jack stood on the bow of the Pearl. Fog curled around the large, wraith like ship. The crews were running silently. There was hardly any wind, but the ships moved along at a steady 3 knots.
Jack turned and walked to the quarter deck. He took out his eyepiece and looked through it for signs of any ships. He froze, listening.
He could hear the waves slapping off the hull of another ship, a ship that wasn't part of the north point team. He raised his hand; the crew stopped what they were doing on a moments notice.
They waited. A heavy silence fell over the ships. He heard a whisper.
"It's the Black Devil, commodore." Jack nodded and stared at the gun ship.
"Board her, kill the crew, and then light powder magazines. Remember to take the Africans aboard."
The Pearlpulled up alongside the Devil. Jack's crew moved like wraiths, silently, blending in with the fog. They dropped almost silently onto the deck of the smaller ship.
The first throat was cut by a former RN man. The crew mowed through the men. They never knew what hit them.
Blood flowed like water on the deck; it seeped down the cracks and started to drip onto the lower decks.
As the blood dripped, other crew members came running to the top deck to see where the blood was coming from.
There they met a terrifying sight.
Jack Sparrow stood in front of his crew, moonlight covering him.
The devil had arrived.
"Kill them," Jack whispered, his lip curling in a sneer. "Kill them all."
The crew moved around him. Jack never moved. He just stood there, his head slightly down, looking at the crew of the Devil through angry eyes. The crew back up as Jack's men advanced towards them.
Jack watched dispassionately as the men of the Black Devil were cut, and sliced, and hacked into little pieces.
"Leave that one," Jack whispered. The crew stopped and parted like a curtain as Jack walked forward to the last living man.
The man cowered beneath Jack. Jack stood there, watching him silently.
"She's on the Reaper, isn't she?"
The man stared at Jack Sparrow and began to laugh.
"The infamous pirate came all the way here to save that bitch?"
Jack backhanded the man violently. He sagged backwards and stared at Jack in shock. The slap resounded over the silent ships.
Jack reached forward and wrapped his hand in the man's short hair. He dragged the man close to him and tilted his head back.
"Tell me where she is," he hissed, anger evident in his voice.
"She's on the Reaper! Please, let me go!"
Jack threw his head back, flinging the beads over his shoulders.
"All right then," He took his blade and flipped it in his hand. He drove the blade straight up through the man's jaw into his brain.
Blood dripped down the shining cutlass, dark streaks against the clean silver. Jack turned the blade violently and ripped it from the man's head. A sickening sound reached everyone's ears as the skin attempted to retain the blade.
Jack wiped the blade clean on the man's trousers and sheathed it.
"Blow the ship," he snapped. He walked back onto the Pearland headed straight for his cabin.
The crew moved in shocked silence. Never had they seen Jack loose it so totally like that. Jack was not one who killed for enjoyment.
But this was not enjoyment, it was revenge.
The pirate crew stood on their respectable ships and waited. The three ships of North Point Team had sailed away as quickly and quietly as possible.
They waited, and there it was.
There was a loud shattering bang, and fire whipped through the fog. Body parts could be seen, but just barely. Wood struck the water with hard slaps. The water rocked from the impact.
One down.
Dawg jerked out of his bunk when he heard the bang. He rushed outside.
"What was that?"
"I have no idea, sir!" Rogers replied quickly. They looked out over the water and to the north they could see a raging fire.
"What in the name of hell just happened?"
Morgan heard the blast over the moans and screams of her fellow hold mates. She smiled and crowed with laughter.
"He's here! Haha! He came and the Grim Reaper will earn his keep tonight!"
AN: I know its been forever, but school starts soon and I figured I should start writing on it. Anyway, please review people. This chapter was a little…more violent than the others.
SC