At Worlds' End: Part 10/15
Chapter X: To The Depths
Norrington sat in the corner of his cell, as far from Ann as possible. She seemed to have the same idea, hunched over in the corner of her own. Neither had said a word to the other since being recaptured. After Beckett's surprising declaration, he had given Ann an offer - agree to marry him, or be keelhauled. She had a night in the hold to think it over. Of course, Norrington had been given no such deal - his punishment was fixed, and due to be carried on the morrow. His eyes flickered toward Ann’s small shape. She wasn't crying tonight.
"You were the object your father could not part with."
"Yes," she said, sadly.
"Beckett knows you'd murder him in his bed the first chance you get, and yet, he still wishes to marry you. Love," Norrington mused in an ironic tone.
"That's the only excitement a man like Beckett will find in bed," she replied bitterly. "Oh, it may not be what ladies should converse about, but everyone in Calcutta knows. He lost a sword-fight - and a good deal more - to a pirate, ages ago."
Norrington turned toward her. "Tell me, did this pirate go by the name Jack Sparrow?"
"Yes, that sounds right..."
"So Beckett's a eunuch." Norrington let out a sharp snort. This turned into a chuckle, and suddenly, he found himself lying back in the louse-infested straw, laughing hysterically, uncontrollably, tears running down his cheeks. When he was finally able to stop, he caught his breath and turned to Ann.
"Take his offer."
"Never."
"You haven't any choice. Take it, and live, and someday you'll get the chance to keep your oath."
There was no reply.
"Think about it. Goodnight, Miss Hammond."
* * * * *
"What did you tell him?" Elizabeth's face was twisted into an expression of cold fury as she marched up to the helm of the Pearl. As soon as the small fleet had departed the harbor and set out safely into open waters, Elizabeth felt she could not wait one moment more to confront Jack Sparrow. Her eyes flickered to the Black Betsy, which had settled along their starboard wake.
"Tell who?" asked Jack, innocently checking his compass.
"Will!" Elizabeth practically shrieked. Gibbs looked to the quarterdeck, alarmed. Jack and Elizabeth each gave him a sunny wave, before turning back to each other.
"Tell Will what?"
"Tell Will about... you know, Jack," she hissed.
He snapped his compass shut. "About your sudden amorous and treacherous actions toward me resulting in my untimely demise?"
She waited. He leaned across the wheel, so close she could feel his breath on her face.
"Bloody. Well. Nothing."
Elizabeth pursed her lips. "And why should I believe that?"
"You should believe that, as I'm the only one of the two of us who has never attempted to send the other to a tragic and painful end."
Elizabeth crossed her arms as she stared directly into the pirate captain's eyes. "I did what I did for the good of the entire crew, Jack Sparrow - your crew. I saved seven lives that day. And why did I chain you to the mast? Because, as much as I wanted to believe that somewhere, deep down inside you, there is a good man, when it came to it, I knew I couldn't depend on that man twice in one afternoon."
"So it's over between us, then?" Jack mocked.
Elizabeth looked at Jack sadly. "You know I love Will. I always have, always..."
"Will?" he finished.
Elizabeth looked away, biting back a smile. "It would never have worked between us, love," she said, repeating what he'd told her a lifetime ago, back in Port Royal. "After all," she said, turning back with a playful look in her eye, "you are a pirate."
"And darling Will isn't?"
Elizabeth's expression made a reply unnecessary.
Jack titled his head back, showing a gold-flecked grin and nodding slightly. "That's right. Only when you wish him to be." He leaned forward, suddenly serious. "What Will is, what you see him as - really - is a hero. And there are no heroes amongst thieves, Lizzy. Only scoundrels and villains and ne'er do well cads... But what's come betwixt you and Will is still your doing, love, and you must square with the consequences."
* * * * *
In other matters of consequence, Norrington stood on the Endeavour's gangplank, hands and feet bound tight, awaiting his punishment. He had not slept the night before. Early that morning, three burly sailors had come down and unlocked Ann's cell. A gruff voice had asked, "Well, what's it to be, then?" He had heard the sound of a body rising from the straw, and the soft pad of bare feet as Ann left the cell and followed the men above decks. She had done as he had requested rather than attempt any foolish act of bravery, which was some small consolation.
They had come for him a few hours later; so here he stood, attached to the rope that was to be dragged under the ship from starboard to port. It was a grisly fate - if pulled too slow, he would drown, if pulled too fast, he would suffer terrible lacerations from the barnacle-encrusted hull, and likely die of a fever. Beckett stood on the quarterdeck, smirking down at him. As always, Mercer stood at Beckett's shoulder. But by his other side was a new figure - Ann. She was wearing a dress, a spoil from one of the ships they had laid siege to, but her hair (pulled atop her head half-heartedly) was a tangled mess, and her nose looked as ghastly as ever. With a nod to the crew, Beckett pulled out a scroll of paper, strode to the edge of the quarterdeck, and spoke in a loud voice.
"James Norrington is charged with failure to follow a direct order and sentenced to be keel-hauled, his punishment to be carried out on this day..."
He stopped suddenly, and looked to Ann, who had placed a hand on his arm. She spoke to Beckett, her voice too quiet to be heard below.
Beckett gave a cruel smirk. "Certainly.” He announced to the crew, "The lady has requested a moment with the condemned." Aside to Mercer, he added, "Such a touching display."
Ann walked down the steps, and toward the gangplank. As she reached the rail, she turned to the sea, and seemed to be adjusting her petticoats. Norrington looked away with embarrassment. Clearly, she had finally gone mad with the sun and despair. The men standing closest waited for Beckett's orders, unsure of what to do. Finally she turned back to them all, looking rather triumphant, a familiar brown bag held high. "Cut him loose," she panted. "Cut him loose, or I drop it."
There was a moment’s pause; then Beckett laughed. "Drop it, then."
Ann stood still, her hand clutching the brown bag fast over the edge of the ship.
"Did you truly think I would keep the key in my desk if it guarded my most valuable asset? Oh, Ann. I was hoping you would provide us some entertainment, but you have surpassed yourself. How sad - I thought you quite intelligent at one point in time. You are not holding the heart of Davy Jones, my dear cousin... you are holding the heart of a common pig."
"Am I?" she asked, trembling with excitement. "It would seem being so unfortunately acquainted with you has afforded me some small measure of intelligence. Before I drop this heart into the sea, you may wish to compare the contents of the trunk and your spare pitcher."
The cold humor in Beckett's eyes disappeared, and he clenched his jaw. After a very pregnant pause, he spoke.
"It seems I've miscalculated. Men... cut Mr. Norrington down. Bring the bag to me. Mr. Mercer, bring me the trunk and both pitchers."
A few men stepped forward, cutting the thick ropes attached to his hands and feet. Ann relinquished the bag to a red-coated Marine, who peered in to judge the contents. Norrington looked down in despair. If she was telling the truth - if she'd had the heart in her hands - she had just relinquished her power to Beckett. And for what? A few moments delay in his inevitable punishment?
Ann shifted toward him as the Marine delivered the heart to Beckett. Norrington noticed she was quite pale beneath the rosy blister of her nose and cheeks. As she stepped out to meet him by the gangplank, he could have sworn he could hear her heartbeat. In fact, the bodice of her dress was rising and falling quite unnaturally...
She met his gaze, and nodded almost imperceptibly. She wavered slightly at the edge of the plank, and her hand fluttered out in search of his. He caught it and steadied her.
"Shall we?" he asked, voice low.
She nodded, and together, they jumped off the edge of the plank. Ann secured the contents of her bodice with one hand; the other held onto his tightly. He let go as he hit the water, a hard, cold shock. As Norrington broke back through the surface, Ann’s skirts, which had first acted as a buoy, began dragging her down.
"Rip it off!" she shrieked.
"What?" cried Norrington, shaking his head to clear it.
"Rippppfffbbb..." Ann spluttered frantically, as she sank beneath the surface.
Norrington dived after her. Her fingers were working furiously around the edges of her bodice, legs kicking uselessly in yards of wet material. He fumbled with the laces that attached the stomacher, managing to rip one side out. After several desperate moments, the laces came completely loose and Ann was able to slide out of the sodden gown. She held Davy Jones’s heart close as the striped dress disappeared into the darkness below, and Norrington pulled her upward. They kicked toward the surface and came up gasping.
* * * * *
Standing before the open (and still empty) trunk with a pig's heart in hand, Beckett threw his spare pitcher across the deck, nostrils flared. It bounced off the bulwark and clattered to a stop.
"To the longboats! Retrieve Mr. Norrington and Miss Hammond, and bring me what they have stolen. Send up the flags! I want Jones' crew to head them off, but they are by no means to get into the water."
But it was too late. Jones and his crew had seen the spectacle from the deck of their ship and realized what had just occurred. They were following their own orders now, lowering their boats as Beckett shouted, eager to lay their hands on the heart of their Captain. The rest were stomping round a large wheel mid-deck. Horrified, Beckett realized what was happening.
"Prepare the guns! Fire upon the Dutchman! Jones is calling the Kraken." At these words, utter chaos broke out aboard the Endeavour. Their cannons boomed to life and the large, overloaded ship groaned as it attempted to turn and circle the stern of the Dutchman. The hull of Captain Jones' ship rumbled and the ocean around it echoed as the Kraken was summoned.
Moments later, there was a great cry from one of the smaller ships of the fleet as giant tentacles slithered up the sides of the ship and wrapped round the mast. The sailors aboard all other ships stopped what they were doing, and stared, aghast, as the Kraken dragged it below.
"Rake the Dutchman with cannon fire!" yelled Beckett. "And prepare me a longboat."
"Are you planning to abandon ship, Sir?"
"Abandon? Certainly not. I shall withdraw to the Providence, which is better equipped to handle a battle of this nature."
Stony-faced with disapproval, the lieutenant ordered the longboat ready. "Do you wish me to come with you, Sir?"
"No. Of course, I shall need a few men to row Mr. Mercer and myself across. Continue to engage the Dutchman, lieutenant. I will reward you handsomely for this."
* * * * *
Norrington and Ann treaded water, desperately trying to stay afloat and keep out of reach of the monsters rowing their way. A cannon ball screamed overhead and hit the longboat, sending splintered wood and a large spout of water into the air. Norrington dragged Ann below to avoid the flying debris. Upon resurfacing, he grabbed onto the bow of the boat, which had landed nearby. Ann started to scramble onto it, but he stopped her.
"We hold on and hide, as long as possible. If they continue to fight one another, they'll soon have left us behind."
Indeed, as the ships pounded away at each other, they drifted farther and farther from Norrington and Ann's rudimentary hiding place. The Dutchman and the Endeavour continued to engage one another in the worst of the battle. For a while, the East India Trading Company's flagship held out nobly, but the weight of its hold caught up with it as it attempted to come to come to broadsides with the Dutchman. It was caught at an angle as Jones' ship continued to fire. The great mast, carrying the blue flag, was splintered in two. Beckett watched, safe and dry, from the deck of the Providence as the Endeavour was overrun by what had suddenly become an enemy crew. The silent crew stared beyond as he turned to them, briskly clapping his hands together.
"The Unicorn will continue to engage the Dutchman. This ship is to keep course for Canton."
"We are to run, sir, and leave our comrades to fight in our stead?" one of the officers asked, his jaw clenched.
"Each ship shall do its duty, and ours is to continue to Canton." Beckett replied, with a dangerous edge to his voice. "The other ships have their orders - they shall meet us there once the Dutchman is destroyed."
And so, the Providence slipped away from the battle, and north toward Manchuria.
Norrington and Ann watched in relief as the ships continued to engage one another a safe distance away, and still drifting north. With the battling fleet in the distance, they climbed aboard the bit of longboat. The ocean surrounding them was littered with bits of the two ships that had been destroyed. To the west, the water rippled suddenly, unnaturally. Norrington shuddered and Ann slid her feet safely up out of the water as an enormous dark shape shot underneath them, traveling in the wake of the Dutchman’s destruction.
* * * * *
Will had plenty to occupy his mind aboard the Blind Betsy. Between the work required to run a ship, and the possibility of treachery aboard, he shouldn't have had a spare moment to think of Elizabeth. Still, her tear-streaked face appeared in his mind, unbidden. Had he been rash to walk away without waiting for her to compose herself, without listening to her explanation - or had they finally come to an understanding, and she and Jack were enjoying themselves even now? He gazed ahead, where the Black Pearl was sailing into the sunset.
The chattering of a monkey brought his attention back to the Betsy. It was not Monkey-Jack, but the one Tia Dalma had brought on in Singapore. The tiny creature ran up the rail to the helm to join her friend, who was perched, as always, on Barbossa's shoulder. Monkey-Jack jumped down with a squeak, and the two ran off together. Will squinted at the figure which had just emerged from the shade by the captain's cabin. It was Tia Dalma. She made her way above. Barbossa acknowledged her presence with a nod, and Tia Dalma began to speak to him in a low, urgent tone. Will could not make out her words from where he stood. He walked closer, on pretense of examining the knot of a secured rope. When neither seemed to notice him, he crouched down and slid under the stairs to the upper deck. From here, he was able to catch snippets of their conversation.
"It mus' be you," Tia Dalma whispered. "De Turner boy wants to revenge him father. We cannot let him do it," she said, insistently. T'ink of him, Captain of de Dutchmon! No, 'Ector... it mus' be you."
In his hiding place, Will frowned as Barbossa answered.
"I don't think the whelp knows what he be in for if he stabs the heart of Davy Jones. It would be a kindness to take that burden away from him."
"And dat is why I say it mus' be you. De ocean... she needs a Jones, even if she no longer love him. Wi'yam Turner wants to set dem free - him father most of all. If he becomes Captain, who knows what she will do?"
"And you think I be better suited for the post?"
"Yes. Yes, I do 'Ector. You get eternal life - no worry of ever paying for de accords you have made. And she - she gets a Captain she can trust." The woman's lilting tone lingered on that final word.
As Will stood in the shadows, processing this information, a sudden shout broke his concentration. Up in the Crow's Nest, one of the boys Jack had picked up in Singapore had started yelling frantically in his own language.
Tia Dalma slipped away as Barbossa squinted up at the child and yelled out, "What ye be jibbering about, boy?"
The boy made a visible effort to control himself, and managed to squeeze out two words in English. "Ship! Ho!"
The English-speaking crew ran to the stern of the ship, where the crewmembers from Singapore had already gathered. They were pointing, excitedly and fearfully, to the dark spots in the east. The unmistakable sails of several junks, spiny like the backs of dragons, had risen on the horizon.