Mercer knocked lightly on the solid, polished Oak door of Cutler Beckett's quarters on the HMS Endeavour and waited for an answer. It swiftly came so Mercer quietly opened the door and slipped inside, careful as ever to shut it behind him. "We have him," was all he said. It was all that was needed.
"Good," said Beckett, who sat comfortably behind his desk and lay down his quill. "This time, he will not get away."
It was a threat and Mercer knew the consequences of such an occurrence. He would not be forgiven. "Do you wish to see him?" he asked carefully.
"No," said Beckett. "I think we can leave him to panic a while longer. I trust you have not spoken to him?"
"No sir," replied Mercer.
"It should stay that way for now," said Beckett, clasping his hands neatly in front of him and studying Mercer. "Have you paid your accomplices extra to keep their silence?"
Mercer nodded. "Of course, sir."
"Good. Anyway, he was meet me in due course but for now I have other pressing matters to attend to."
Mercer knew this meant the conversation was over.
"You know the bearings," was the final thing Beckett said, before Mercer bowed and slipped silently from the room.
He walked briskly but silently down the corridor and up a short flight of stairs onto the main deck. Nodding curtly at the Navy members who stood on guard there whilst they were in port, he proceeded across the deck and down another flight of stairs, this time much longer. They twisted down through the ship, starting off made of fine polished wood but as Mercer made his way lower and lower into the holds, the wood because rougher and cheaper. It didn't matter since no one of any importance usually came down this far into the ship. It was here that the prisoners were kept.
At that moment, there was only one prisoner, but one of utter importance to Beckett. It was a man who had wronged him in the past. A man who Beckett believed had got away too lightly and he wanted punished. And now he could.
He was in the cell furthest from the door and therefore, furthest from the light.
As Mercer approached, the prisoner didn't look up. He was sitting straight backed on the rough bench against the wall, looking down at his hands which were clenched in his lap. The trinkets adorning his hair waved lazily as the waves gently rocked the boat.
Mercer rapped on the metal barred walls of the cell with his cane.
The prisoner looked slowly up at him and stared at him in the eye, almost daring him to look away.
Mercer didn't. "If you argue you are punished. If you fight you are punished. If you try to escape you are shot. Understand?"
The prisoner had heard but made no movement.
Mercer held the stare for a few extra moments before turning sharply away and marching back up to the deck, leaving the solitary figure alone in the damp, dark brig.
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After what could have been hours, but were probably mere minutes, Jack moved from the position he had stayed in long after Mercer had left. He knew who Mercer was as the man had been in Beckett's service for years. Even after this length of time, he still made Jack's skin crawl.
Jack looked round at his surroundings again but didn't get up. He had explored his five foot square space many times already and knew there were no loose bars, large gaps, or more importantly, no half-pin-barrel hinges. But he knew this already. The brig of the HMS Endeavour had not changed at all in the fourteen years since Jack had last been there.
Screaming… his screaming. The powerful smell of burning flesh and an unbelievable pain, which seemed to infect his whole body…
Jack shook his head to clear the half formed memory and instinctively rubbed the Pirate brand mark on his right forearm. He tried not to remember the last time he had been in this brig and decided to shut his eyes and try to sleep. He wondered what his crew were doing or if they were searching for him. He also wondered why Beckett wanted him now, because although his captors had been very secretive about their identity, Jack had recognised his surroundings instantly.
Leaning his head back against the rough, tar strengthened walls of the hull, he tried to let the gently rocking of the boat soothe him to sleep.
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He could hear her screaming… screaming his name but he couldn't reach her. Someone else was shouting now and it was getting louder and louder…
Jack suddenly jumped awake as an East India Trading Company officer shouted at him again to wake up. Jack rubbed his eyes, trying to relive himself of the sound of distant screaming, which hadn't plagued his dreams for years. He presumed it was due to being back on this ship.
"Get up," said the officer again, unlocking the door this time. "You're wanted."
He held the door open for Jack, who stood stiffly and stretched. He didn't know if he had slept the night or not, but as he was led, handcuffed, up the familiar stairs to the deck, he knew it was daylight.
The bight sunlight was too much after the darkness of the brig and Jack found himself automatically screwing up his eyes in order to see. They had left the Port and from what Jack could see as he was marched by several EITC crew across the deck, land was nowhere in sight. They led him down a short flight of steps to the door to Beckett's cabin, which Jack still remembered. An EITC man knocked lightly on the door and pushed Jack into the room.
It had changed very little since the last time Jack has been there. And Beckett had changed little too. Jack noticed a few more lines on his forehead but no laughter lines around his eyes or mouth.
No one spoke as Beckett took the chance to study Jack too. "Jonathon Sparrow," he said after a few moments. "Or Jack, as you're now known as."
Jack didn't say anything.
"I've been searching for you for many years. I'm sure you knew that?"
Still Jack remained silent. He hadn't known that but had always stayed far from EITC ports out of habit. He had never chosen to search for Beckett.
"I realised as soon as I let you go fourteen years ago that you had been let off too lightly and tried to recapture you." He paused, straitening a few sheets of parchment. "But you're a slippery man to find." He looked back at Jack, not inviting him to sit. "I had to give up on you for many years because a sudden rise in piracy threatened many of my ships. it never occurred to me that you're disappearance and this were in fact linked. All the more reason for me to focus on capturing you now, don't you think?"
Jack shrugged, not letting any suppressed feelings move to his face.
"Come now Mr Sparrow," said Beckett, "You're an intelligent man. I'm sure you would do the same thing, wouldn't you? Re-punish a man if the first had not seemed to have worked? Because that was the problem," he continued, standing and approaching Jack. "I thought that branding you a pirate would ruin you, that it would be the worst thing for you. Worse than death. But I have to admit that I underestimated you. You seem to have grown to fit you're new role."
Jack glared straight at Beckett, angry at the tone Beckett was using to evaluate his life. He acted as though it had been a simply transaction, to move from a respected EITC captain to a pirate. How wrong he was.
"But I was wrong to let you escape and now I have you in my possession, and you won't escape this time.
In a sudden movement, Beckett backhanded Jack across the face, throwing all his strength into it. Jack's head spun to the side and his cheek blazed in sudden pain. He seized the front of Jack's shirt and hissed venomously, "I'll make you pay this time around. Mercer!"
The door opened suddenly behind Jack and strong hands pulled him back, away from Beckett who turned back to his desk.
Mercer hauled Jack out onto the deck and whistled sharply. Two crewmembers who had apparently been standing ready seemed to suddenly appear leering at Jack's side. They dragged him over to the mast and it was at this point when Jack realised what was about to happen to him. Bastards. He had only ever been whipped twice before; once in a Singaporean prison and once fourteen years before, the last time Beckett had arrested him. They pulled his shirt off and threw it down He tried to shut down his mind to the pain before the first whip lash came but as his arms were dragged round the mast and tied there, all he could think about was the feeling of tearing flesh.
And pain is always worse when you know it's coming.
Jack screwed up his eyes and gripped onto the mast as the lashed tore down on his back. Seven… eight… he lost count after that, the pain becoming so immense that he lost the mental strength to continue counting. But he would not let himself scream. He would not give Beckett the pleasure of hearing him scream… not like he did fourteen years ago.
When the bindings strapping him to the mast were released Jack new that he would have fallen save for the rough hands that gripped him suddenly and dragged him back down to the hold.
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Pintel had been found first, unconscious and hidden behind some sacks. Then the cabin had been deserted. And the final piece of evidence had been the jewelled dagger belonging to Jack, left abandoned on the pier.
Gibbs put the information together quickly and knew there was no point in searching Port Colona. "Folks all over the place want Jack, don't they? He won't be here, not now," he told the crewmembers who had returned to the ship. "Ah, here comes Ragetti."
Ragetti boarded the ship, panting and clutching a stitch in his side. He had been sent out to ask dockworkers whether any boats had left the dock in the night. "I asked around I did," he panted to Gibbs. "And a fella down there said he was up most the nigh', saw somethin', he did. Saw a ship suddenly pull anchor an' leave."
"And what was the boat?" Asked Gibbs.
"Ah… somethin… somethin like Dever… he couldn' remember…" Ragetti trailed off.
"Shit and balls," Gibbs swore. "Aye, that would be the HMS Endeavour, captained by that bastard, Lord Cutler Beckett."
"Shit and balls," Marty agreed.
"And they wen' that a way," Ragetti continued, gesturing of to the left hand side of the horizon, glimmering in the fresh morning light.
Gibbs clapped his hands together, coming to a sudden decision. "That makes things easier then. The nearest port then is Port Royal, which Beckett may stop in to get supplies. We have to pray to the Gods that he does. Right, get to your places and," he turned to Ragetti," sort him out, will you?" He pointed behind him at Pintel, still passed out to the deck. "I'll take command here."
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Jack lay on his front to avoid unnecessary pain. Bitterly, he asked himself how he could have been so stupid to let himself be caught. He was paying for it now. He wondered whether his crew would try to find him alone or get help or try to find him at all. No, he argued with himself, I'm sure Gibbs would try to find me. But he knew that there were very few people who Gibbs could ask to help find him. Jack mentally crossed off those who would never help him. Various pirates who he had screwed over in the past were the first to go. Suddenly, Elizabeth and Will Turner came to mind. Hmmm… maybe maybe. Will might because I knew his father but I don't thing Lizzie was too keen on poor old me. He dismissed them anyway because he doubted Gibbs would ever go to Port Royal to find them.
Footsteps on the stairs sharply snapped Jack back to reality and despite his years as a 'notorious' pirate, he felt the fluttering of fear in his stomach. Mercer was back, grinning inanely and brandishing keys to unlock Jack's cell. Jack pushed himself stiffly off the floor, knowing that it was always better to cooperate with this man. No handcuffs we placed round Jack's wrists this time because Mercer handed Jack his shirt which had not been returned to him after his whipping. The hull of the ship was cold so Jack was pleased to be able to shrug the thin shirt over his torso, both for warmth and for dignity. He was sure he was to be taken back to see Beckett and didn't fancy showing off his new collection of scars that he was to thank him for.
Mercer held Jack's elbow in a pincer-like grip and marched him up to the deck and straight across to Beckett's cabin, where he knocked briefly before throwing Jack inside.
This time Beckett stood, waiting for him and pouring small measures of red wine into two glasses. "Please take a seat, Mr Sparrow," he said coolly, bringing the glasses over to his desk, handing Jack one and then sitting behind it. "It would be polite of me now to explain what I'm planning to do with you," he began. "And no, I'm not going to kill you… personally," he added, with a dangerous smile.
Jack narrowed his eyes and took a small sip of the wine. He knew Mercer would only be too happy to kill him but Beckett's tone suggested otherwise. Anyway, he thought sullenly, any delay in the executing process gives me more opportunities to escape, so I won't complain.
"I'm not sure if you know how much you're worth, Mr Sparrow," said Beckett.
"I'm priceless actually," muttered Jack, suddenly realising what Beckett was planning to do. I'll bet my left testicle that he is handing me in for ransom money, the thought. And he was almost right.
"Do you realise," said Beckett, leaning forwards, a mad glint in his eyes, "what I can gain from handing you over to the government? The East India Trading Company would be held responsible for turning in one of the worst pirates in the Caribbean, and in turn, I will be greatly rewarded!"
Jack lifted his eyes in pretend interest, trying to annoy Beckett by his nonchalance. He took another sip of his wine. "So you dispose of me, something you have always wanted and get a promotion? Clever you."
Beckett smiled. "Exactly, clever me," he agreed, ignoring Jack's sarcasm. "I can finally rid the world of you Jack Sparrow because you really do get tiresome. I thought I did that fourteen years ago but clearly not. A mistake on my part, I admit."
"You shouldn't have trusted me to decide my own fate," said Jack. "Where you hoping I would commit suicide… or drink myself to death?" he asked, downing the rest of his wine and grinning at Beckett.
Annoyance flashed across Beckett's face. "I thought that was the least you could do, Mr Sparrow, after the trouble you caused me. If you remember, you lost me in the region of £10,000. I think I was quite lenient, looking back now."
"You sunk my ship and branded me a pirate, Beckett," Jack spat, finally giving Beckett the reaction he wanted. "You asked me to do something you knew I wouldn't do."
"Transporting slaves is not the end of the world, Mr Sparrow. It does not take a strong man to do it, just a professional one… I feared you were not a good captain."
"Bullshit!" snapped Jack. "You knew I was a good captain for you. But you were jealous of me, weren't you?" he added, smirking.
Now it was Beckett who's face contorted into anger as Jack continued.
"I always sensed it but never knew why. You had the position, the money, the titles-"
"You had Josephine!" Beckett shouted, standing up in his sudden fury and pointing a shaking finger in Jack's face. Realising what he had said, his fury evaporated and was replaced with embarrassment with he covered up by straightening his coat and sitting back down.
Jack didn't say anything… couldn't say anything. Josephine was a name he hadn't spoken of or tried to think about for years. The mere mention of it nearly brought back the misery and pain he now associated with it but he fought the feeling back to stay calm in front of Beckett. If he was expecting a rebuke, Jack was now unable to say anything coherent. "I…" he started, but couldn't say anything at all. He focused on his empty wine glass, shaking in his hand.
Beckett cleared his throat. "Mercer!" he called out, now urgent for Jack to be gone from his cabin. He knew he had said too much to show his own feelings, something he didn't want to do in front of a man he hated and always had.
Mercer entered silently and seized Jack's arm again, pulling him up to leave. Looking back, Jack saw Beckett shuffling papers on his desk, calm and composed already. He knew he looked the same on the outside, but inside he was tearing himself apart with memories he had always strive to suppress.
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I know this may be confusing but I'll be filling in the gaps in the next chapter so you'll understand Jack's past better… I think.