FANFIC: THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY - CHAPTER 11
Author: mamazano
Title: THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY
Rating: R (adult themes, content)
Pairings: None specifically
Warnings: Character death, sexual violence.
Disclaimer: Disney owns some, history the rest. Just having fun.
Summary: This is a story of mystery and intrigue, set against the true historical age of pirates. Real people, places and events from history interwoven with the fictional world of Pirates of the Caribbean. An AU set somewhere after CotBP.
A special thanks to
this_weirdness for her advice on writing, an incredible resource, and
compassrose7577 , for her extensive nautical knowledge and unflagging support. Both diligent beta readers, I couldn't do it without them. You're diamonds, mates!
Previous chapters: Prologue -1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5a - 5b - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10
Through a Glass Darkly
Chapter 11 - Dead Men Tell No Tales
----
Half-mast upon her flagstaff hung her flag;
Word went among us how the broken spar
Had gored her captain like an angry stag,
And killed her mate a half-day from the bar.
She passed to dock along the top of flood.
An old man near me shook his head and swore:
"Like a bad woman, she has tasted blood--
There'll be no trusting in her any more."
We thought it truth, and when we saw her there
Lying in dock, beyond, across the stream,
We would forget that we had called her fair,
We thought her murderess and the past a dream.
And when she sailed again, we watched in awe,
Wondering what bloody act her beauty planned,
What evil lurked behind the thing we saw,
What strength there was that thus annulled man's hand,
How next its triumph would compel man's will
Into compliance with external fate,
How next the powers would use her to work ill
On suffering men; we had not long to wait.
~ John Masefield
----
The bodies washed up with the morning tide.
In the faint glimmer of dawn the beachfront was quiet, its occupants still sleeping off the previous evening’s libations. The waves that lapped softly against the shore did not disturb their slumber, nor did the cries of the seabirds dipping and swirling above the surf.
It was the scream that brought the bleary-eyed, rum-soaked men from their tents and to the water’s edge, a dreadful cry, full of horror, the cause of this disturbance becoming apparent as they stumbled closer.
The bodies of two men, or what was left of them, lay tangled amidst the seaweed at the water’s edge, their blood-drained corpses swaying in the gentle pull of the waves. One was but a torso, arms and legs severed, the other only half a man, the lower part gnawed away. Both still bore their heads and it was this that had caused the unfortunate woman who found them to scream in anguish, for not only were they a gruesome sight, she had known them.
The men added to the outcry, as they too recognized the ill-fated men.
“Saints preserve us! That’s Grieves!”
“And Cassidy! Perish and plague me!”
“Looks like they might have washed in with the tide. Why in blazes would they be out in the water at night?”
“Imagine t'were sharks that got ‘em. Gawd awful way t’ go.”
Frank Davies pushed his way through the crowd, Gibbs close on his heels. One of the men stopped him with a cautionary hand.
“Tis not a pretty sight, Frank.”
Bracing himself, Davies stepped past the cluster of men at the shore, solemnly studying the grisly scene before turning away, visibly shaken at the fate of his two former crewmen.
“God’s wounds,” he uttered, running a hand through his gray streaked hair and looking around. “Who found ‘em?”
Several of the men pointed in unison to the redheaded woman slumped miserably on the sand further up the beach, where she had retreated after retching violently.
“Heard Sadie there scream. Woke us and we come runnin’ down here.”
Davies walked up the beach to where Sadie sat huddled alone. He frowned and shook his head.
For all the time she spends pleasuring ‘em, you’d think one of ‘em could of tried t’ comfort her.
Squatting down next to traumatized woman he placed a gentle hand on her arm. “Awful business, lass.”
“It’s all my fault, Frank!” she sobbed, looking up at his touch. “I should never agreed!”
She broke down again. “How were I to know?” she chanted, rocking and weeping.
The poor girl was obviously in shock, Davies thought, calling to someone to fetch a blanket, wrapping her in it and moving her away from the horrific scene towards one of the campfires.
Sadie, snuffling and wiping her eyes, gratefully accepting the cup of rum-laced coffee Davies offered her. He waited until she was calmer before questioning her.
“What was it you agreed to, lass?” He was frowning but kept his voice gentle.
She looked around fearfully. “Nothing.”
Slowly regaining her composure, she clamped her lips tightly together and tossed back her hair. Finishing her drink she stood, casting an apprehensive glance down the beach toward the canvas-covered bodies.
“I best be getting’ on,” she said, nervously brushing her hair back and smoothing her rumbled skirt.
Davies stood as well and caught her by the arm, his grasp friendly but firm. “Before you go, why don’t you tell me what you meant by it being yer fault?”
She ducked her head, not meeting his eyes and stammered a reply. “Nothing. I was thinking perhaps… but I was mistaken… wouldn’t have mattered… no reason to think…”
Davies waited patiently, though did not let go of her arm. “What wouldn’t have mattered?”
“It’s nothing, I tell ye!” Sadie tried twisting her arm away. “Just something Pete said. Asked. A favor, he did. Paid me well fer it, too. Probably nothing to do with them two. Go ask Pete why they were out there on that ship…” She clasped her hand over her mouth, eyes wide with fear.
“What ship?” Davies asked slowly.
A silent observer up to this point, Gibbs, glanced with concern across the bay, the ships there at anchor barely discernible in the early morning mist, recalling the two dead men had been among those that had accompanied them in Jack’s rescue…and had tried to throw the strange girl off the sloop.
“Where might we find this Pete feller?” Gibbs demanded
Sadie pointed at a camp further down the beach. “Look, I ain’t seen him since last night. No need to be holding me, I didn’t do nothing.” She wrenched her arm free and hurried away.
“She’s frightened,” Davies said, watching her go, “and not just about findin’ them dead men. Mark me words, there’s more to this than she’s lettin’ on.”
----
The incessant squawking woke Jack, his head aching as did his goods. Struggling to sit up, he batted away the bird as it fluttered in front of him.
“Would you shut it?!” He glared at the parrot perched on a tree stump nearby and grumbled, “Bloody feathered menace, making a ruckus loud enough to raise the dead, you foul-mouthed fowl.”
The bird cocked its head. “Dead men tell no tales.”
Jack hurled an empty bottle at it, only causing the bird to fly around before perching once again, this time on Jack’s hat. “Dead men tell no tales!”
Jack stumbled to his feet and indignantly pulled his hat out from under the bird, placing it on his head as he made his way unsteadily towards the cover of brush to relieve himself. His smarting member brought back memories of another occasion and with that a twinge of guilt for leaving the girl alone for so long. He shrugged it off though as something not to be dwelt upon.
“Unforeseen circumstances, couldn’t be helped,” he reasoned with himself, gingerly tucking his guilt away and squaring his shoulders to greet the day.
“Jack! Thank the stars, there you are! We’ve been lookin’ all over for you.”
Jack frowned at this new source of noise, his head still pounding from the night’s indulgence.
“No need to shout, Mister Gibbs. I still have me ears.” Jack’s irritation turned to concern as he saw the worried face of his quartermaster and the grim expression of Frank Davies behind him.
“Dead men tell no tales!” Cotton’s parrot squawked, fluttering his feathers before flying off towards the bay.
“Something the matter, Mister Gibbs?” Jack asked, cringing slightly, a knot forming in his stomach.
“Couple of me men washed up with the tide.” It was Davies that spoke up first. “Or what was left of ‘em.”
Jack relaxed slightly. “Oh. Not good. Sorry, mate.”
Gibbs shook his head. “That’s not the half of it, Jack. One of ‘em is still missin’. Last seen heading for one of the ships in the bay. Seemed to have a bone to pick.”
Davies nodded and added, “Might be best if we rowed out to the Pearl, checked on things as it were.”
He spoke it to Jack’s back, as he had come to the same conclusion and was already halfway down the beach.
----
The boat seemed to crawl across the bay. Jack perched in the bow impatiently, grousing to Marty to row faster. Gibbs and Davies sat in the stern, grim expressions on their faces. Cotton’s parrot, circling overhead only added to their feeling of foreboding. Jack was halfway up the sea ladder before the boat had come to a stop, scrambling onto the deck of the Pearl only to be brought up short by the horrific sight before him.
“Mary, Mother of God,” Gibbs said in a hushed voice.
Davies, climbing on board behind him, drew in a rasping breath. It was not a sight for the squeamish. The missing man was impaled upon the deck, a jagged spar running through him, embedded into the blood soak planks. His face was contorted with fear, mouth gaping open as if in mid-scream, his unfastened breeches telling the remainder of an ugly tale they all recognized. To one side, lying in another pool of blood, was Mister Cotton. Gibbs hurried over to him and bent down next to the old man.
“He’s still breathing,” he said with relief.
Jack was looking anxiously about, but there was no sign of the girl. Cursing himself for leaving her unprotected, he began frantically searching, stumbling across the debris strewn deck, the overpowering stench of blood filling his nostrils, fear gnawing at his gut.
“She’s got to be here, somewhere, please.” He scrambled over fallen yardarms and the tangle of shrouds and lines.
Didn’t seem too worried last night, Jackie.
Couldn’t wait to get away from her.
Were you thinkin’ of her while Sadie pleasured you?
All dead, Jackie. Same as before. All dead.
“NO!!!” His shout startled the others, looking up in alarm as they tended the injured Cotton. Jack vehemently shook his head, his balled-up hands pressed against his temples as he continued to moan. “No! Not dead! Not true! Go away!”
Davies gave Jack a concerned look and quietly asked Gibbs, “How long’s this been goin’ on?”
Gibbs sighed and shook his head wearily. “Since we rescued him from Bedlam. Something happened to him, out there. Never did find out what. But he came back infested with them voices, can’t seem t’ escape ‘em.”
Jack had sunk to his knees and was now moaning softly, eyes screwed shut as if in agony.
Girl trusted you, to keep her safe.
Keep her safe, keep her safe…
----
Title: THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY
Rating: R (adult themes, content)
Pairings: None specifically
Warnings: Character death, sexual violence.
Disclaimer: Disney owns some, history the rest. Just having fun.
Summary: This is a story of mystery and intrigue, set against the true historical age of pirates. Real people, places and events from history interwoven with the fictional world of Pirates of the Caribbean. An AU set somewhere after CotBP.
A special thanks to
this_weirdness for her advice on writing, an incredible resource, and
compassrose7577 , for her extensive nautical knowledge and unflagging support. Both diligent beta readers, I couldn't do it without them. You're diamonds, mates!
Previous chapters: Prologue -1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5a - 5b - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10
Through a Glass Darkly
Chapter 11 - Dead Men Tell No Tales
----
Half-mast upon her flagstaff hung her flag;
Word went among us how the broken spar
Had gored her captain like an angry stag,
And killed her mate a half-day from the bar.
She passed to dock along the top of flood.
An old man near me shook his head and swore:
"Like a bad woman, she has tasted blood--
There'll be no trusting in her any more."
We thought it truth, and when we saw her there
Lying in dock, beyond, across the stream,
We would forget that we had called her fair,
We thought her murderess and the past a dream.
And when she sailed again, we watched in awe,
Wondering what bloody act her beauty planned,
What evil lurked behind the thing we saw,
What strength there was that thus annulled man's hand,
How next its triumph would compel man's will
Into compliance with external fate,
How next the powers would use her to work ill
On suffering men; we had not long to wait.
~ John Masefield
----
The bodies washed up with the morning tide.
In the faint glimmer of dawn the beachfront was quiet, its occupants still sleeping off the previous evening’s libations. The waves that lapped softly against the shore did not disturb their slumber, nor did the cries of the seabirds dipping and swirling above the surf.
It was the scream that brought the bleary-eyed, rum-soaked men from their tents and to the water’s edge, a dreadful cry, full of horror, the cause of this disturbance becoming apparent as they stumbled closer.
The bodies of two men, or what was left of them, lay tangled amidst the seaweed at the water’s edge, their blood-drained corpses swaying in the gentle pull of the waves. One was but a torso, arms and legs severed, the other only half a man, the lower part gnawed away. Both still bore their heads and it was this that had caused the unfortunate woman who found them to scream in anguish, for not only were they a gruesome sight, she had known them.
The men added to the outcry, as they too recognized the ill-fated men.
“Saints preserve us! That’s Grieves!”
“And Cassidy! Perish and plague me!”
“Looks like they might have washed in with the tide. Why in blazes would they be out in the water at night?”
“Imagine t'were sharks that got ‘em. Gawd awful way t’ go.”
Frank Davies pushed his way through the crowd, Gibbs close on his heels. One of the men stopped him with a cautionary hand.
“Tis not a pretty sight, Frank.”
Bracing himself, Davies stepped past the cluster of men at the shore, solemnly studying the grisly scene before turning away, visibly shaken at the fate of his two former crewmen.
“God’s wounds,” he uttered, running a hand through his gray streaked hair and looking around. “Who found ‘em?”
Several of the men pointed in unison to the redheaded woman slumped miserably on the sand further up the beach, where she had retreated after retching violently.
“Heard Sadie there scream. Woke us and we come runnin’ down here.”
Davies walked up the beach to where Sadie sat huddled alone. He frowned and shook his head.
For all the time she spends pleasuring ‘em, you’d think one of ‘em could of tried t’ comfort her.
Squatting down next to traumatized woman he placed a gentle hand on her arm. “Awful business, lass.”
“It’s all my fault, Frank!” she sobbed, looking up at his touch. “I should never agreed!”
She broke down again. “How were I to know?” she chanted, rocking and weeping.
The poor girl was obviously in shock, Davies thought, calling to someone to fetch a blanket, wrapping her in it and moving her away from the horrific scene towards one of the campfires.
Sadie, snuffling and wiping her eyes, gratefully accepting the cup of rum-laced coffee Davies offered her. He waited until she was calmer before questioning her.
“What was it you agreed to, lass?” He was frowning but kept his voice gentle.
She looked around fearfully. “Nothing.”
Slowly regaining her composure, she clamped her lips tightly together and tossed back her hair. Finishing her drink she stood, casting an apprehensive glance down the beach toward the canvas-covered bodies.
“I best be getting’ on,” she said, nervously brushing her hair back and smoothing her rumbled skirt.
Davies stood as well and caught her by the arm, his grasp friendly but firm. “Before you go, why don’t you tell me what you meant by it being yer fault?”
She ducked her head, not meeting his eyes and stammered a reply. “Nothing. I was thinking perhaps… but I was mistaken… wouldn’t have mattered… no reason to think…”
Davies waited patiently, though did not let go of her arm. “What wouldn’t have mattered?”
“It’s nothing, I tell ye!” Sadie tried twisting her arm away. “Just something Pete said. Asked. A favor, he did. Paid me well fer it, too. Probably nothing to do with them two. Go ask Pete why they were out there on that ship…” She clasped her hand over her mouth, eyes wide with fear.
“What ship?” Davies asked slowly.
A silent observer up to this point, Gibbs, glanced with concern across the bay, the ships there at anchor barely discernible in the early morning mist, recalling the two dead men had been among those that had accompanied them in Jack’s rescue…and had tried to throw the strange girl off the sloop.
“Where might we find this Pete feller?” Gibbs demanded
Sadie pointed at a camp further down the beach. “Look, I ain’t seen him since last night. No need to be holding me, I didn’t do nothing.” She wrenched her arm free and hurried away.
“She’s frightened,” Davies said, watching her go, “and not just about findin’ them dead men. Mark me words, there’s more to this than she’s lettin’ on.”
----
The incessant squawking woke Jack, his head aching as did his goods. Struggling to sit up, he batted away the bird as it fluttered in front of him.
“Would you shut it?!” He glared at the parrot perched on a tree stump nearby and grumbled, “Bloody feathered menace, making a ruckus loud enough to raise the dead, you foul-mouthed fowl.”
The bird cocked its head. “Dead men tell no tales.”
Jack hurled an empty bottle at it, only causing the bird to fly around before perching once again, this time on Jack’s hat. “Dead men tell no tales!”
Jack stumbled to his feet and indignantly pulled his hat out from under the bird, placing it on his head as he made his way unsteadily towards the cover of brush to relieve himself. His smarting member brought back memories of another occasion and with that a twinge of guilt for leaving the girl alone for so long. He shrugged it off though as something not to be dwelt upon.
“Unforeseen circumstances, couldn’t be helped,” he reasoned with himself, gingerly tucking his guilt away and squaring his shoulders to greet the day.
“Jack! Thank the stars, there you are! We’ve been lookin’ all over for you.”
Jack frowned at this new source of noise, his head still pounding from the night’s indulgence.
“No need to shout, Mister Gibbs. I still have me ears.” Jack’s irritation turned to concern as he saw the worried face of his quartermaster and the grim expression of Frank Davies behind him.
“Dead men tell no tales!” Cotton’s parrot squawked, fluttering his feathers before flying off towards the bay.
“Something the matter, Mister Gibbs?” Jack asked, cringing slightly, a knot forming in his stomach.
“Couple of me men washed up with the tide.” It was Davies that spoke up first. “Or what was left of ‘em.”
Jack relaxed slightly. “Oh. Not good. Sorry, mate.”
Gibbs shook his head. “That’s not the half of it, Jack. One of ‘em is still missin’. Last seen heading for one of the ships in the bay. Seemed to have a bone to pick.”
Davies nodded and added, “Might be best if we rowed out to the Pearl, checked on things as it were.”
He spoke it to Jack’s back, as he had come to the same conclusion and was already halfway down the beach.
----
The boat seemed to crawl across the bay. Jack perched in the bow impatiently, grousing to Marty to row faster. Gibbs and Davies sat in the stern, grim expressions on their faces. Cotton’s parrot, circling overhead only added to their feeling of foreboding. Jack was halfway up the sea ladder before the boat had come to a stop, scrambling onto the deck of the Pearl only to be brought up short by the horrific sight before him.
“Mary, Mother of God,” Gibbs said in a hushed voice.
Davies, climbing on board behind him, drew in a rasping breath. It was not a sight for the squeamish. The missing man was impaled upon the deck, a jagged spar running through him, embedded into the blood soak planks. His face was contorted with fear, mouth gaping open as if in mid-scream, his unfastened breeches telling the remainder of an ugly tale they all recognized. To one side, lying in another pool of blood, was Mister Cotton. Gibbs hurried over to him and bent down next to the old man.
“He’s still breathing,” he said with relief.
Jack was looking anxiously about, but there was no sign of the girl. Cursing himself for leaving her unprotected, he began frantically searching, stumbling across the debris strewn deck, the overpowering stench of blood filling his nostrils, fear gnawing at his gut.
“She’s got to be here, somewhere, please.” He scrambled over fallen yardarms and the tangle of shrouds and lines.
Didn’t seem too worried last night, Jackie.
Couldn’t wait to get away from her.
Were you thinkin’ of her while Sadie pleasured you?
All dead, Jackie. Same as before. All dead.
“NO!!!” His shout startled the others, looking up in alarm as they tended the injured Cotton. Jack vehemently shook his head, his balled-up hands pressed against his temples as he continued to moan. “No! Not dead! Not true! Go away!”
Davies gave Jack a concerned look and quietly asked Gibbs, “How long’s this been goin’ on?”
Gibbs sighed and shook his head wearily. “Since we rescued him from Bedlam. Something happened to him, out there. Never did find out what. But he came back infested with them voices, can’t seem t’ escape ‘em.”
Jack had sunk to his knees and was now moaning softly, eyes screwed shut as if in agony.
Girl trusted you, to keep her safe.
Keep her safe, keep her safe…
----