FANFIC: Ad Infinitum - Chapter 1: Ad Interim
They came for him at dawn. Joshamee Gibbs glanced briefly at Elizabeth, where she slept fitfully in the adjoining cell. Exhaustion had about done her in, poor lass. She stirred, but did not waken as the guards clapped irons on his wrists and led him away.
The newly erected gallows dominated the landscape in the half light of morn. The sound of the workmen’s hammers had reverberated through the night, tolling the fate the pirates faced come sun up.
Gibbs had tried to console Elizabeth, but had no real words of comfort to lend. It seemed time had just run out for the both of them, their capture and trial creating a buzz of excitement throughout the islands. The streets was quiet now, but soon would be filled with townsfolk eager to see the spectacle of the infamous pirate king going to the gallows.
Having been sentenced to death by a court martial, Gibbs was not led to the gallows, but instead escorted down to the waterfront where a longboat waited to take him to a ship anchored further out in the bay, where he would await his own fate, scheduled for the following day. He was to be hung from the yardarm of the ship, in front of all the vessels of the squadron which were in port, with all hands turned up to view the punishment. This very public ritualized ceremony was to serve as an example to all present that a life of crime did not pay.
Josh Gibbs, who had resigned himself to this eventual fate, after hearing of the demise of Jack Sparrow and sinking of the Black Pearl, was in many ways relieved with this change in venue. A man of the sea, he preferred to die at sea, be it in battle or dancing the hempen jig, at least his soul would find its way to the other side, by way of the ferryman.
The same could not be said for Elizabeth. Even though her husband, Will Turner, was Captain of the Flying Dutchman, he had no jurisdiction over those that died on land. And, to make matters worse, if the scuttlebutt among the guards at the jail were true, the Admiral meant to hang her in chains as a deterrent to others that might be looking to take up the life of piracy, thus denying her a proper burial.
When the day and hour finally arrived, the officers and men turned out in full costume, the glitter of gay uniforms contrasted strangely with their solemn countenances, and the unbroken silence that prevailed. All the ceremonies on board a man-of-war connected with any momentous event, were conducted with the same strict formality and decorum, whether the circumstance at issue be a public flogging, a burial, or an execution.
Gibbs held his head high as the noose was placed around his neck. He had regrets, sure. But he’d chosen his life freely and would die freely. The drum roll began as the charges were read, the assembled marines watching in somber attention. The final charge was declared and the drum stopped. The moment had finally come; the book of life would forever close on Joshamee Gibbs.
****
The fate of Joshamee Gibbs, Royal Navy deserter and convicted pirate, was dutifully noted in the Jamaican Courant and Public Advertiser, and just as dutifully skimmed over, in favor of the more illustrious and scandalous news item reporting the events of the trial and execution of the woman pirate, Elizabeth Swann nee Turner, purported to be King of the Brethren Court.
Relegated to the back page, the sum total of the man’s life was distilled down to a mere three paragraphs.
On Friday a Court Martial was held on board his Majesty's ship Victory, in Port Royal, Jamaica, on charges exhibited by Captain Groves, formerly of his Majesty's ship Dauntless, against Joshamee Gibbs, former midshipman of the said ship, for a breach of the 15th article of war, of desertion to the enemy. The evidence being heard in support of the charges, the prisoner not having prepared his defense, begged time, when the Court readily granted, till Saturday at ten o'clock.
At that hour the Court assembled again, and having heard what the prisoner had to offer in his defense, and maturely weighed and considered the same, the Court was of opinion the charges had been fully proved, and accordingly adjudged the prisoner to be hanged at the yard arm of such one of his Majesty's ships, and at such time as the Commissioners of the Admiralty shall direct.
On Tuesday the sentence of the court-Martial was put in execution on Joshamee Gibbs, late Midshipman of the Dauntless. As the bell struck the appointed hour, Gibbs appeared up the forecastle ladder, in charge of a guard of marines, who slowly conducted him forward. The prisoner mounted the scaffold with the greatest fortitude; he then requested to speak with the Rev. Mr. Birdwood, on the scaffold; he said a few words to him, but in so low a tone of voice that he could not be distinctly heard: and on the blue cap being put over his face, the fatal bow-gun was fired, and he was immediately run up to the starboard fore-yard-arm, with a 32lb. shot tied to his legs. Unfortunately the knot had got round under his chin, which caused great convulsions for a quarter of an hour. After being suspended the usual time, he was lowered into his coffin, which was ready to receive him in a boat immediately under, and conveyed to shore, where the Rev. Birdwood was waiting to claim his body to inter. *
****
“Jack!”
Gibbs looked up through a haze to find his former Captain peering down at him, the crooked glint of gold and crinkles around the eyes betraying his somber tones.
“Mister Gibbs! I thought that might be you.”
Gibbs turned his head, only to be overcome with a violent bout of coughing, retching up copious amounts of sea water. His eyes burned from the salt and sun, his ribs and throat swollen and bruised, making swallowing and breathing difficult. Another bout of coughing rendered even speech useless. He felt like death warmed over.
“Are you dead?” he croaked, squinting at Jack hovering above.
The golden grin just grew wider. “No. Are you?” Jack chuckled and straightened, reaching down to help Gibbs to his feet.
Gibbs winced and hobbled to his feet, noting for the first time his surroundings. To his astonishment, he appeared to be standing on the deck of the Black Pearl, a ship reputed to have gone down with all hands in a hurricane earlier that summer. Shaking his head to clear it, Gibbs tried again.
“Is this the Locker, then?”
Jack reached in his pocket and pulled out a familiar object. Holding the leather flask out he said simply, “I believe this is yours.”
Gibbs took the pouch eagerly and drank, triggering another coughing spasm. After several good blows to the back from Jack, he straightened again and gazed around in wonder.
“God’s wounds, Jack! I heard the Pearl’d been lost in the hurricane!”
“That she was. She fought long and hard, but in the end the sea won out.” Jack wrapped his arm around his old friend’s shoulder. “No ship could have done so well or stood so long the weather she had to live through. Plum worn out, she were, that's all.” He patted Gibb’s shoulder, friendly-like. “The Pearl battled her heart out. She lasted under us for days and days, but she couldn’t last for ever. It was long enough mate, ‘bout killed me, it did. I was almost glad when it was over.” Jack paused, and added in a grave voice, “No better ship was ever left to sink at sea on such a day as that.”
Gibbs opened his mouth to protest but Jack hushed him with a raised finger. “I suppose you’re wondering how you've come to be standing here, instead of being strung up on that yardarm, courtesy of Bonny King George’s Royal Navy.”
“Aye. But if the Pearl were lost and I were hung,” he said in a hushed voice, “And you say this ain't the Locker…” Gibbs glanced around, almost fearful “Then this must be some other place, altogether.”
****
* An actual historical account of a court martial, adapted for the purposes of this story. The complete account can be found here.
The newly erected gallows dominated the landscape in the half light of morn. The sound of the workmen’s hammers had reverberated through the night, tolling the fate the pirates faced come sun up.
Gibbs had tried to console Elizabeth, but had no real words of comfort to lend. It seemed time had just run out for the both of them, their capture and trial creating a buzz of excitement throughout the islands. The streets was quiet now, but soon would be filled with townsfolk eager to see the spectacle of the infamous pirate king going to the gallows.
Having been sentenced to death by a court martial, Gibbs was not led to the gallows, but instead escorted down to the waterfront where a longboat waited to take him to a ship anchored further out in the bay, where he would await his own fate, scheduled for the following day. He was to be hung from the yardarm of the ship, in front of all the vessels of the squadron which were in port, with all hands turned up to view the punishment. This very public ritualized ceremony was to serve as an example to all present that a life of crime did not pay.
Josh Gibbs, who had resigned himself to this eventual fate, after hearing of the demise of Jack Sparrow and sinking of the Black Pearl, was in many ways relieved with this change in venue. A man of the sea, he preferred to die at sea, be it in battle or dancing the hempen jig, at least his soul would find its way to the other side, by way of the ferryman.
The same could not be said for Elizabeth. Even though her husband, Will Turner, was Captain of the Flying Dutchman, he had no jurisdiction over those that died on land. And, to make matters worse, if the scuttlebutt among the guards at the jail were true, the Admiral meant to hang her in chains as a deterrent to others that might be looking to take up the life of piracy, thus denying her a proper burial.
When the day and hour finally arrived, the officers and men turned out in full costume, the glitter of gay uniforms contrasted strangely with their solemn countenances, and the unbroken silence that prevailed. All the ceremonies on board a man-of-war connected with any momentous event, were conducted with the same strict formality and decorum, whether the circumstance at issue be a public flogging, a burial, or an execution.
Gibbs held his head high as the noose was placed around his neck. He had regrets, sure. But he’d chosen his life freely and would die freely. The drum roll began as the charges were read, the assembled marines watching in somber attention. The final charge was declared and the drum stopped. The moment had finally come; the book of life would forever close on Joshamee Gibbs.
****
The fate of Joshamee Gibbs, Royal Navy deserter and convicted pirate, was dutifully noted in the Jamaican Courant and Public Advertiser, and just as dutifully skimmed over, in favor of the more illustrious and scandalous news item reporting the events of the trial and execution of the woman pirate, Elizabeth Swann nee Turner, purported to be King of the Brethren Court.
Relegated to the back page, the sum total of the man’s life was distilled down to a mere three paragraphs.
On Friday a Court Martial was held on board his Majesty's ship Victory, in Port Royal, Jamaica, on charges exhibited by Captain Groves, formerly of his Majesty's ship Dauntless, against Joshamee Gibbs, former midshipman of the said ship, for a breach of the 15th article of war, of desertion to the enemy. The evidence being heard in support of the charges, the prisoner not having prepared his defense, begged time, when the Court readily granted, till Saturday at ten o'clock.
At that hour the Court assembled again, and having heard what the prisoner had to offer in his defense, and maturely weighed and considered the same, the Court was of opinion the charges had been fully proved, and accordingly adjudged the prisoner to be hanged at the yard arm of such one of his Majesty's ships, and at such time as the Commissioners of the Admiralty shall direct.
On Tuesday the sentence of the court-Martial was put in execution on Joshamee Gibbs, late Midshipman of the Dauntless. As the bell struck the appointed hour, Gibbs appeared up the forecastle ladder, in charge of a guard of marines, who slowly conducted him forward. The prisoner mounted the scaffold with the greatest fortitude; he then requested to speak with the Rev. Mr. Birdwood, on the scaffold; he said a few words to him, but in so low a tone of voice that he could not be distinctly heard: and on the blue cap being put over his face, the fatal bow-gun was fired, and he was immediately run up to the starboard fore-yard-arm, with a 32lb. shot tied to his legs. Unfortunately the knot had got round under his chin, which caused great convulsions for a quarter of an hour. After being suspended the usual time, he was lowered into his coffin, which was ready to receive him in a boat immediately under, and conveyed to shore, where the Rev. Birdwood was waiting to claim his body to inter. *
****
“Jack!”
Gibbs looked up through a haze to find his former Captain peering down at him, the crooked glint of gold and crinkles around the eyes betraying his somber tones.
“Mister Gibbs! I thought that might be you.”
Gibbs turned his head, only to be overcome with a violent bout of coughing, retching up copious amounts of sea water. His eyes burned from the salt and sun, his ribs and throat swollen and bruised, making swallowing and breathing difficult. Another bout of coughing rendered even speech useless. He felt like death warmed over.
“Are you dead?” he croaked, squinting at Jack hovering above.
The golden grin just grew wider. “No. Are you?” Jack chuckled and straightened, reaching down to help Gibbs to his feet.
Gibbs winced and hobbled to his feet, noting for the first time his surroundings. To his astonishment, he appeared to be standing on the deck of the Black Pearl, a ship reputed to have gone down with all hands in a hurricane earlier that summer. Shaking his head to clear it, Gibbs tried again.
“Is this the Locker, then?”
Jack reached in his pocket and pulled out a familiar object. Holding the leather flask out he said simply, “I believe this is yours.”
Gibbs took the pouch eagerly and drank, triggering another coughing spasm. After several good blows to the back from Jack, he straightened again and gazed around in wonder.
“God’s wounds, Jack! I heard the Pearl’d been lost in the hurricane!”
“That she was. She fought long and hard, but in the end the sea won out.” Jack wrapped his arm around his old friend’s shoulder. “No ship could have done so well or stood so long the weather she had to live through. Plum worn out, she were, that's all.” He patted Gibb’s shoulder, friendly-like. “The Pearl battled her heart out. She lasted under us for days and days, but she couldn’t last for ever. It was long enough mate, ‘bout killed me, it did. I was almost glad when it was over.” Jack paused, and added in a grave voice, “No better ship was ever left to sink at sea on such a day as that.”
Gibbs opened his mouth to protest but Jack hushed him with a raised finger. “I suppose you’re wondering how you've come to be standing here, instead of being strung up on that yardarm, courtesy of Bonny King George’s Royal Navy.”
“Aye. But if the Pearl were lost and I were hung,” he said in a hushed voice, “And you say this ain't the Locker…” Gibbs glanced around, almost fearful “Then this must be some other place, altogether.”
****
* An actual historical account of a court martial, adapted for the purposes of this story. The complete account can be found here.