I stood there and watched the whipping, a thin smile twisting my lips. Ever lash of the whip sent shivers down my spine. I drank in both William Turner's physical pain, and the emotional agony of his father.
But then, all too soon, it was over. Bootstrap Bill had finished delivering the five lashes that I had ordered he give to his son. Bootstrap threw down the whip and began running towards his son, but stopped as I held up a hand.
"No," I said, gesturing for him to bring the whip to me. "We're not done yet. I'm adding ten lashes to his punishment, because of your earlier interruption."
Bootstrap recoiled, staring at me in horror. "No," he rasped, "No, I won't let you!"
"Father, leave it be." I heard the boy say.
"Such valiance, I chuckled, then turned back to Bootstrap. "Your impudence has just earned your son another five lashes. Do ya have any more objections?"
Bootstrap shook his head silently.
"Good. Now, bring me the whip." I ordered, holding out my hand.
He wordlessly handed me the whip, then stood back to make room for me. The two crewmembers holding William forced him back against the pole. I examined his already cut and bloodied back, pondering where to lay down the first blow.
I picked a spot, an brought the whip down hard. He grunted and arched his back, his breath hissing out in pain.
Again and again I brought the whip down, until I reached fifteen. By then Will's breathing had turned ragged, and I heard him trying to swallow his tears of pain.
"Remember that, boy." I sneered, dropping the whip. Turning, I headed back to my cabin as I heard the boy being thrown down the stairs, amidst the laughter and mocking of the crew.