Author's Note: Hello and welcome to chapter twenty of "Rubicon". I would like to thank everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter, Tiera-Tarie, Faith-Catherine, ElfLuver13, Miya Sparrow, anonymous, Astraeas Dreams, Lady Lithoniel, sudoku and anotherblastedromantic. Well, that's quite a fair number of reviews. Thank you all so much! I have no beta for this fic, so any grammatical or spelling errors that appear are my fault and my fault alone. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Pirates of the Caribbean.

September 12, 1731

Log,

I finally have a spare moment to sit and write. And oh what a tremulous moment it is, filled with dark promises and half-conceived thoughts that terrify me. My office is dark and I have not called for the servants to build a fire in the stone hearth. No, I write by moonlight alone.

It is mild tonight and the wind cries. Perhaps a storm rises to the south, bringing with it cold air and rain and lightening to split the heavens with God's wrath. The palm trees shiver outside and waves lick the shores.

From the long window I can see half a dozen ships lining the harbor. They sit upon the water in a grim line, sentries with languid sails and tall, silent masts. We wait, all of us, with a prayer upon our lips and vain hope blazing in our hearts.

Perhaps it was all just a rumor stirred up by the sea.

I never expected the evening to unfold in such a manner. In fact, as Anne and I entered the great ballroom to greet out guests, I imagined the night would be one to remember.

Well, I shall remember it, during the dark hours when nightmares stalk the world.

But I digress. My pen trips and gallops over the page without any sense or reason. I must compose myself and record the events as they happened. Perhaps generations from now, my thoughts will be kept for posterity's sake. Ah, but I am no Marcus Aurelius.

This evening, Anne and I hosted a grand dance and dinner for members of the Caribbean's gentry. I do not possess the mind to describe the affair at length, so I shall be short.

The gala started precisely at eight, when the sky was dark enough to display the fireworks. Our company of guests arrived on time and as each carriage snaked up the drive, light and color bloomed in the heavens over the harbor.

This caused great delight and awe amongst the ladies and gentlemen. Anne and I stood just inside the door, her hand upon my arm as we watched the fireworks shriek and burst.

"Oh, Cutler," she whispered and her gaze was fixed upon the sky. "Oh, they are so lovely. So beautiful."

I found I could not take my eyes from her, as she stood there with the bright light upon her face. She looked ethereal, I thought. Perhaps like the Greek goddesses Homer so earnestly wrote of. Or the Nymphs that dwell in mountain streams with their songs and happy play amongst the foam.

But oh, she was nothing short of magnificent, draped in a grey silk gown with her hair pinned up and powdered. And for one brief, joyful moment, I imagined that she was not ill and that we were home in England, away from this wretched place. I imagined that all was well and would be forever, and that we should live in serene happiness for the rest of our years.

Yet then the fireworks died and Anne looked towards the guests. I realized at once that we still stood on our doorstep in Caribbean, on the edge of the very world with nothing but the merciless sea at our feet. I wish it were not so.

It took quite a while for the guests to assemble inside. Each woman fawned over another and they swished their skirts until the whole ballroom sounded full of dry leaves being blown about by the wind. I marveled at how easily Anne moved among them. She chatted politely with some and greeted others with the utmost courtesy.

I saw Admiral Norrington standing at the far end of the room, but fortunately (for his sake) his eyes did not follow Anne. Instead, he engrossed himself in conversation with several Navy officers. I offered him a terse "good evening" as I passed and he bowed.

Shortly after the ladies and gentlemen had settled themselves into the ballroom, the musicians were called up to play. A lively minuet opened the festivities. Anne and I shared the first dance as was expected. Small cakes and cold meats and other little delicacies were brought about by our livered servants.

The guests ate and drank thick red wine. I had not an appetite suitable for the former, but I did fold to several glasses of that superb libation that now renders my mind so foggy. Anne seemed too excited for anything quite so dull as eating and drinking. She left my side and spoke with her good friend Lady Jane for a long time.

The evening promised to be grand. By the time dinner was announced, most of our guests proclaimed it to be the most sumptuous and elegant affair they had ever attended. I suppose that is not saying much now, considering our position in the Caribbean so far from England, but such a compliment will have to do.

I had meant to escort Anne into the lavish dining room, but before I could leave the ballroom, Admiral Norrington came to me.

"My Lord Beckett." There was something decidedly terrifying about his tone and my spine stiffened as he spoke.

"Yes, what is it now?" I tried to appear haughty and impatient. Norrington stared at me with a sober expression, though something troublesome darkened his light eyes.

"I have been informed of a...problem in the harbor, your lordship." His hesitation shocked me. With a feigned smile, I waded through the rising sea of guests and brought him out to an empty balcony.

"What manner of problem?"

He did not speak, but rather extended his arm to the right and pointed down to the ocean. I glanced over my shoulder and my heart dropped.

The Flying Dutchman was anchored in the harbor, resplendent beneath the moonlight in all her gruesome glory.

"Dear God." I clutched the stone railing that guarded the balcony. For a long moment, Norrington and I looked out over the water. He stood there with such stoic indifference that I wished to throttle him.

"Is this your doing?" It was more of an accusation that a question, but he bore it just the same.

"No, my lord, Not at all. I have only just discovered it myself."

Jones was under specific orders not to enter the harbor. Was mutiny in his heart this night?

I departed for the docks immediately, leaving a message for Anne stating that necessary business forced me away. I also ordered all the servants to shut the great windows overlooking the sea, lest a curious guest see a sight not meant for any eyes.

Mr. Mercer arranged for a longboat to row me out to the Dutchman and as I climbed up onto the deck, I felt little fear. Anger overrode any terror that might trouble my heart. I managed to overlook the haunting appearance of the vessel and Jones' ghastly crew that huddled about.

I went straight to the Captain. He was lounging by the side rail with little concern.

"Bloody hell, what is the meaning of this?" I demanded of him. "Bringing this…this abomination into the harbor. Have you no sense? Do you dare to disobey the direct order I gave you?"

Jones did not speak at once, but chewed over his pipe with a thoughtful expression. I was sorely tempted to drive a dagger through his heart right then and there.

"I thought you'd like to know, my lord," he said at last. A puff of smoke escaped from his mouth. "The Black Pearl has been sighted, not too far from Port Royal. I cast off and hurried back to tell you. What are my orders?"

I thought I had gone mad. I stared at the creature, my stomach churning and bile rising up to my lips.

"That is impossible," I said at length.

"Tell that to Jack Sparrow who I saw at the helm," he replied.

I still could not believe it.

After my shock had ebbed sufficiently, I ordered my men about. Jones I sent out of the harbor once more and along with a small little vessel, sent to bear news to any of my other ships that were still riding the waves. The rest I had blockade the harbor. None are to be allowed in or out and at the sight of any ship, they are to raise the alarm.

The guests are still dancing in my ballroom and from my office, I can hear the sweet music. Oh I imagine dear Anne, lovely and sweet. Oh would that I could be with her now.

Lord Cutler Beckett