The intervening space between the Company ship to the Flying Dutchman is crossed with a minimum of hassle, the men handling the boats being well-trained and long used to the procedure.
Mr. Mercer accompanies Governor Swann in the second boat to cross, impassively surveying the wave-tossed wreckage in the waters around them. The blue of the Caribbean shines in the sunlight, warm and bright, in complete disregard of the number of seafarers who had so recently found themselves sinking into the sea's ultimately cold embrace.
Governor Swann has seen carnage. He's never gotten used to it. That's one reason why he's not a military man. He holds his handkerchief to his nose to block out the smell of burning wood, pitch, and flesh and grimaces as he watches a body float by.
Even more repulsive is the Flying Dutchman looming ahead.
"I really don't see why I have to go aboard," he announces to Mercer, who had the nerve to it right beside him, and not behind him. "The Admiral has no need of me."
"Hmmm. Yes, well," he mumbles, deciding to ignore Mercer for the time being. He's an uncouth murderer, after all, and beneath the Governor's station.
It's soon enough that the boats reach the Dutchman and Swann is helped on board by the soldiers boarding alongside. Mercer is completely forgotten.
Admiral Norrington is given charge of the ship, who Weatherby thinks is a far sight better than the creature currently captaining the vessel.
And then the chest is paraded past and soldiers stationed around it.
Once the crew is settled, Weatherby creeps into the cabin in which the chest has been placed under guard. He walks around it, nodding kindly to the frightened soldiers as he does.
"You're to be taken across," Mercer says, nodding in the direction of the Company ship they so recently departed, as he closes the door behind them. "Lord Beckett's orders."
"He seems to think your curiosity would get the better of you."
Mr. Mercer accompanies Governor Swann in the second boat to cross, impassively surveying the wave-tossed wreckage in the waters around them. The blue of the Caribbean shines in the sunlight, warm and bright, in complete disregard of the number of seafarers who had so recently found themselves sinking into the sea's ultimately cold embrace.
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Even more repulsive is the Flying Dutchman looming ahead.
"I really don't see why I have to go aboard," he announces to Mercer, who had the nerve to it right beside him, and not behind him. "The Admiral has no need of me."
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"Obviously he does, Gov'nor," Mercer replies, turning to glance at him, "Or else you wouldn't be going aboard."
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"Is the chest being left on board," he snaps, "or are you lot going to taunt that terrible thing with it?"
Governor Swann does indeed know more than he should.
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Not that it will matter for much longer.
"It isn't taunting," Mercer says with a faint trace of a nasty-looking grin on his normally impassive face. "It's motivation."
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He'd likely not speak with the same tone as he would with Cutler Beckett. Still the contempt would be there, just disguised slightly better.
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"If it gets the intended results, it is." Though Beckett would probably just call it good business.
"To possess that chest is to control the Flying Dutchman. Sometimes its captain simply needs to be reminded."
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"Hmmm. Yes, well," he mumbles, deciding to ignore Mercer for the time being. He's an uncouth murderer, after all, and beneath the Governor's station.
It's soon enough that the boats reach the Dutchman and Swann is helped on board by the soldiers boarding alongside. Mercer is completely forgotten.
Admiral Norrington is given charge of the ship, who Weatherby thinks is a far sight better than the creature currently captaining the vessel.
And then the chest is paraded past and soldiers stationed around it.
Once the crew is settled, Weatherby creeps into the cabin in which the chest has been placed under guard. He walks around it, nodding kindly to the frightened soldiers as he does.
He places a hand on the chest, as if to open it.
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"Time to go, Gov'nor. There's nothing there to interest you."
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He glances at the chest one more time, not moving his hand. Then he moves along.
Maybe the ship they're to meet will be close by now. He's ready to be quit of Mercer and his master.
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"He seems to think your curiosity would get the better of you."
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He follows along, not realizing they're going around the opposite way of where the boats are.
"He's probably right. I was wondering what would happen if that beastly heart were removed."
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However, then piracy may turn out to be an inherited trait, after all.
"Thinking it'd be an easy way to get a ship of your own?"
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"Only," he says, turning to the Governor, "the one who stabs the heart must replace that heart with his own. The Dutchman must have a captain."
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"How ghastly."
It's about then, on this side of the ship where the noise and bustle is absent all of a sudden that he notices the lack of boats.
"Why have you brought me this way? The boats are on the other side, aren't they?"
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