May 17, 17--: The child will be born soon, and the mother's agitation has increased apace. She paces the tiny length of her cell and back again, wringing her hands, at times pausing at the bars to gaze out at me with a gaze at once fierce and disarmingly beseeching. She even wept a little at one point in the audience, which affected me to an extreme that surprised me. She has never shown such emotion before.
Perhaps she has begun to repent at last.
Unreasonably, the thought brings me no joy.
IV. Humility
I feel the babe move within me every day now. Often I wake to its kicks like the frantic flutter of wings against the wall of my womb. I wonder if it knows it has been sentenced to be raised an orphan. The sins of the mother visited upon the child.
Am I frightened of death? Of hanging? Of course I am. Bloody terrified. I'm only a woman, after all. I'm not daft.
No. No, he is not dead. Did you see a body? Did anyone? Then he is not dead. This is Captain Jack Sparrow we're speaking of. Never forget that.
But you're wrong. I am not waiting for him to come for me. He does not come because he must not come. He's a smart man. He wouldn't risk it. Even for me.
No, not even for the child.
Jack wouldn't do a stupid thing like that. He knows this is a trap.
Leave me. Go. I will not speak to you anymore to-day.
No, there is nothing you can do for me. Unless...
Well, perhaps there is one thing. One small mercy, for the damned.