Fic: Just business (3/?))
Part 3 of my Jack-Beckett backstory story. No AWE spoilers, really.
Title: Just business
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, they're the Mouse's.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
The sloop caught up with the East India Company’s flagship Perseverance late in the evening, and the message arrived with Cutler Beckett’s last cup of tea of the day. He poured the tea before slitting the seal.
“Ah,” he said.
“Problem?” asked the ship’s captain, Moore, a capable veteran of the Company who had previously served in the Royal Navy.
Beckett stirred another sugar cube into his cup. “A gamble I took has not paid off. Or perhaps it has. Order a lookout set for a ship with black sails.”
“And if we see her?”
Sipping his tea, Beckett smiled. “Then, I rather fancy the men will get some gun practice.”
“They would like that,” Moore said. “Ship with black sails it is.”
Beckett looked down at the message once more. It reported that the Black Pearl had put into harbour and made as if she was staying for several days, but had slipped away the same night. It was only because Beckett had ordered a watch set on her activities in Singapore that the escape had been spotted so soon.
In his cabin that night, as the Perseverance forged her way through the ocean and a block tapped regularly against the deck above his head, Beckett considered the problem of Jack Sparrow. He had known after the first meeting that there might be a problem; Sparrow was clearly a loose cannon that needed to be controlled. It was there in every flicker of the fingers and every braid on his head.
Beckett had thought that the money would be sufficient for Sparrow to carry out the simple task set for him and not deviate from his course. He realised now he had been wrong.
The block tapped. Beckett rolled on to his side and closed his eyes. The problem of Jack Sparrow would shortly be resolved, once and for all.
It was three days before the Black Pearl was sighted, close-hauled on the starboard tack three miles to the south. Captain Moore called for Beckett, and after consultation they decided to keep on their course for another few hours before turning and pursuing the Pearl.
“She’s fast,” the captain reported, an hour later. “If we don’t make the turn now we’ll lose her, sir.”
Beckett came out on deck and borrowed Moore’s telescope. “Damn,” he said quietly. “Well. Can we catch her?”
“If we risk the stuns’ls,” said the captain after a moment’s thought. “The wind’s a little strong, perhaps, but the extra canvas would give us a knot or two. Enough, maybe.”
“Do it,” Beckett said, snapping the telescope shut.
The sailors muttered, but they went aloft and half an hour or so after the Perseverance had tacked ship she was carrying all six studdingsails on the foremast and was forging through the water. By nightfall at two bells of the first watch, they had gained some distance on the Pearl.
“Will it be enough?” Beckett asked.
“Hard to say,” said Moore. “He’s good, sir. She’s carrying every inch of canvas she has, and she’s using it well. We just have to hope our stuns’ls will do the trick.”
That night Beckett did not sleep. Instead he paced his cabin, and when he grew tired of that he went up on deck and paced there, ignoring the glances from the men on watch. The Perseverance was running with dimmed lights, and the stars above were bright and clear in a moonless sky. Every now and then Beckett paced all the way to the bows, borrowed the lookout’s telescope, and peered fruitlessly into the black.
In the morning there was still a black speck on the horizon, but she seemed to be further away. Moore confirmed as much.
“I had heard the Black Pearl was one of the fastest afloat,” he said to Beckett. “No idea what makes her so quick, but unless we get some odd weather we’ll lose him.”
They did not get odd weather, and by nightfall the Pearl was out of sight. Beckett ordered the chase to continue nonetheless.
Several more days went by without sight of the black ship, and the few Company ships they passed had not seen her either. Finally, only a hundred miles or so away from the edge of Company jurisdiction, there was better news. One of the Company’s 32-gun ships - an older vessel, but seaworthy and commanded by a good man - sailed within hailing distance, and gave news that she had seen a black ship with no visible colours at anchor, half a day’s sail away.
“He’s made his mistake,” said Beckett, hearing the news. Within half an hour both the Perseverance and the 32-gunner were heading towards the Pearl’s anchorage. There was most of the day left to get there. Fortune had finally turned.
Beckett knew that his quarry was run to ground when, at five bells of the afternoon watch the Black Pearl was sighted, with little sea-room to make her escape. By six bells Beckett could see, through his telescope, Sparrow gesticulating at his helmsman on the poop deck of the pirate ship. At seven bells the Company vessels ran out their guns.
“I want the captain alive,” Beckett said. “You can kill the rest; we have no use for them.”
They fired a couple of warning shots towards the Pearl, which responded by running up a white flag and adding a quarantine signal.
“It’s a ruse,” Beckett told Captain Moore. “Bring her alongside, and board her. Search her thoroughly.”
The two Company ships drew up on either side of the black vessel, and marines from the Perseverance boarded swiftly. Beckett, watching from the poop deck, noted that there was no resistance from the pirates. Indeed there seemed to be remarkably few of them, with just a handful gathered by the mainmast and guarded by marines with bayonets. A short while later Sparrow was brought across to the Perseverance in manacles.
“Do you not know the meaning of them two flags?” he asked, as soon as he had reached the poop deck. “First one means please don’t blow any holes in me ship; second one means coming aboard might be risky to your health.”
“We’re perfectly aware of the meaning of the flags,” Beckett returned. “I do not, however, believe for a moment that you meant either of them.” He flicked the message from Singapore out of his coat pocket. “I received this a few days ago, Captain Sparrow. Apparently you failed to deliver all the cargo.”
Sparrow looked down at Beckett. “As I explained to the fellow who was buying said cargo, it all bleeding died on me. Hence the quarantine flag. And you might’ve noticed I’m strangely lacking in crew. Most of them died on me too. You gave me a shipload of disease, Mr Beckett.”
“Did I?” Beckett shook his head. “I don’t believe I did, Captain Sparrow. All those slaves had received a full assessment from one of the Company’s best surgeons before being brought to you. None of them were sick.”
The captain of the marines approached the poop and saluted smartly. “Search completed, sir. The hold’s perhaps a quarter-full - some coin, silks, weapons, spices, and provisions.”
“Bring it across,” Beckett said. “Go on.”
“Crew of eight,” said the marine. “All claim to be survivors of some illness. They seem healthy enough.”
“So did the rest, before they popped their clogs,” put in Sparrow.
“And there’s only one longboat,” the marine concluded. “And we found these.”
He threw down a bundle of coloured cloth; colours from a variety of countries, a tattered East India Trading Company flag, and a large, black banner emblazoned with a white skull and crossbones. Beckett held the latter up to Sparrow, who shrugged.
“Don’t take away from the truth of what I’ve said,” he said, calmly.
“Thank you,” said Beckett to the marine. “Unload the hold.”
He watched Sparrow watching the contents of his ship be transferred to the Perseverance. The other man’s posture was relaxed, but his face was set and emotionless as the goods arrived on board. The process took a while, and Beckett called for tea while the marines and sailors worked. On board the Pearl, the crew had settled down around the mast and appeared resigned.
Eventually the transfer was complete. Beckett called Moore over. “If that’s all, Captain, you may open fire.”
Sparrow’s mask abruptly fell, and he swung around to face Beckett with fire in his eyes. “Open fire?”
“I think you heard me,” Beckett said.
“Belay that,” Sparrow snapped, speaking to Moore, who hesitated under the tone of the pirate’s voice. “It’d be murder,” he continued, turning back to Beckett. “Sheer bloody murder.”
“Are you talking about your crew or your ship?” Beckett asked, genuinely interested.
Sparrow’s gaze flicked back to the Black Pearl. “Both,” he said. “Look, mate, I’ll repay you your coin. Keep me prisoner, if you have to.”
“I warned you that the penalty for piracy is death,” Beckett said. “You seemed perfectly aware of that. It was the risk you ran; it will be the price you pay. What profit would there be for me to let you and your men sail away, Captain Sparrow?”
“I will sail away,” said Sparrow. “Head back to the Caribbean. Refrain from attacking your ships. Or I’ll give the word for the men to do it, if you’re so set on hanging me.”
Beckett sighed, and put his teacup down. “Still no profit, Captain. Understand me. This is the way the world is, now. We do business. If those we do business with break a bargain, then we take the necessary action. That is good business. Piracy is bad business, as you have no doubt now realised.” He turned to Moore. “Open fire.”
Moore nodded, and nodded again at Sparrow, and gave the order.
The Perseverance’s first shot caught the Black Pearl just aft of her bowsprit, and Beckett saw Sparrow flinch as if he himself had been hit. On the port side, the 32-gunner began her broadside.
The Company’s gunners were good, experienced at defending their ships and cargo. Each shot hit home; bringing down the Pearl’s high masts, thudding into her hull, splintering the rail. Sparrow watched silently, gripping the rail with his manacled hands so his knuckles showed white as the eight men aboard the black ship screamed for help and then fell silent under the cannonade. After the first broadside from both Company ships the Black Pearl was listing badly, her foremast gone completely, her main topmast fractured, her crossjack yard trailing in the sea.
The second broadside began a moment later, the balls holing the pirate ship’s hull further. A third was evidently not needed, and Moore called a halt to the firing. She was taking on water swiftly now, the bodies of her dead crew already afloat where the maindeck used to be.
“It’s just good business, Captain Sparrow,” Beckett said to the silent figure of the pirate captain. “Just good business.”
Title: Just business
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, they're the Mouse's.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
The sloop caught up with the East India Company’s flagship Perseverance late in the evening, and the message arrived with Cutler Beckett’s last cup of tea of the day. He poured the tea before slitting the seal.
“Ah,” he said.
“Problem?” asked the ship’s captain, Moore, a capable veteran of the Company who had previously served in the Royal Navy.
Beckett stirred another sugar cube into his cup. “A gamble I took has not paid off. Or perhaps it has. Order a lookout set for a ship with black sails.”
“And if we see her?”
Sipping his tea, Beckett smiled. “Then, I rather fancy the men will get some gun practice.”
“They would like that,” Moore said. “Ship with black sails it is.”
Beckett looked down at the message once more. It reported that the Black Pearl had put into harbour and made as if she was staying for several days, but had slipped away the same night. It was only because Beckett had ordered a watch set on her activities in Singapore that the escape had been spotted so soon.
In his cabin that night, as the Perseverance forged her way through the ocean and a block tapped regularly against the deck above his head, Beckett considered the problem of Jack Sparrow. He had known after the first meeting that there might be a problem; Sparrow was clearly a loose cannon that needed to be controlled. It was there in every flicker of the fingers and every braid on his head.
Beckett had thought that the money would be sufficient for Sparrow to carry out the simple task set for him and not deviate from his course. He realised now he had been wrong.
The block tapped. Beckett rolled on to his side and closed his eyes. The problem of Jack Sparrow would shortly be resolved, once and for all.
It was three days before the Black Pearl was sighted, close-hauled on the starboard tack three miles to the south. Captain Moore called for Beckett, and after consultation they decided to keep on their course for another few hours before turning and pursuing the Pearl.
“She’s fast,” the captain reported, an hour later. “If we don’t make the turn now we’ll lose her, sir.”
Beckett came out on deck and borrowed Moore’s telescope. “Damn,” he said quietly. “Well. Can we catch her?”
“If we risk the stuns’ls,” said the captain after a moment’s thought. “The wind’s a little strong, perhaps, but the extra canvas would give us a knot or two. Enough, maybe.”
“Do it,” Beckett said, snapping the telescope shut.
The sailors muttered, but they went aloft and half an hour or so after the Perseverance had tacked ship she was carrying all six studdingsails on the foremast and was forging through the water. By nightfall at two bells of the first watch, they had gained some distance on the Pearl.
“Will it be enough?” Beckett asked.
“Hard to say,” said Moore. “He’s good, sir. She’s carrying every inch of canvas she has, and she’s using it well. We just have to hope our stuns’ls will do the trick.”
That night Beckett did not sleep. Instead he paced his cabin, and when he grew tired of that he went up on deck and paced there, ignoring the glances from the men on watch. The Perseverance was running with dimmed lights, and the stars above were bright and clear in a moonless sky. Every now and then Beckett paced all the way to the bows, borrowed the lookout’s telescope, and peered fruitlessly into the black.
In the morning there was still a black speck on the horizon, but she seemed to be further away. Moore confirmed as much.
“I had heard the Black Pearl was one of the fastest afloat,” he said to Beckett. “No idea what makes her so quick, but unless we get some odd weather we’ll lose him.”
They did not get odd weather, and by nightfall the Pearl was out of sight. Beckett ordered the chase to continue nonetheless.
Several more days went by without sight of the black ship, and the few Company ships they passed had not seen her either. Finally, only a hundred miles or so away from the edge of Company jurisdiction, there was better news. One of the Company’s 32-gun ships - an older vessel, but seaworthy and commanded by a good man - sailed within hailing distance, and gave news that she had seen a black ship with no visible colours at anchor, half a day’s sail away.
“He’s made his mistake,” said Beckett, hearing the news. Within half an hour both the Perseverance and the 32-gunner were heading towards the Pearl’s anchorage. There was most of the day left to get there. Fortune had finally turned.
Beckett knew that his quarry was run to ground when, at five bells of the afternoon watch the Black Pearl was sighted, with little sea-room to make her escape. By six bells Beckett could see, through his telescope, Sparrow gesticulating at his helmsman on the poop deck of the pirate ship. At seven bells the Company vessels ran out their guns.
“I want the captain alive,” Beckett said. “You can kill the rest; we have no use for them.”
They fired a couple of warning shots towards the Pearl, which responded by running up a white flag and adding a quarantine signal.
“It’s a ruse,” Beckett told Captain Moore. “Bring her alongside, and board her. Search her thoroughly.”
The two Company ships drew up on either side of the black vessel, and marines from the Perseverance boarded swiftly. Beckett, watching from the poop deck, noted that there was no resistance from the pirates. Indeed there seemed to be remarkably few of them, with just a handful gathered by the mainmast and guarded by marines with bayonets. A short while later Sparrow was brought across to the Perseverance in manacles.
“Do you not know the meaning of them two flags?” he asked, as soon as he had reached the poop deck. “First one means please don’t blow any holes in me ship; second one means coming aboard might be risky to your health.”
“We’re perfectly aware of the meaning of the flags,” Beckett returned. “I do not, however, believe for a moment that you meant either of them.” He flicked the message from Singapore out of his coat pocket. “I received this a few days ago, Captain Sparrow. Apparently you failed to deliver all the cargo.”
Sparrow looked down at Beckett. “As I explained to the fellow who was buying said cargo, it all bleeding died on me. Hence the quarantine flag. And you might’ve noticed I’m strangely lacking in crew. Most of them died on me too. You gave me a shipload of disease, Mr Beckett.”
“Did I?” Beckett shook his head. “I don’t believe I did, Captain Sparrow. All those slaves had received a full assessment from one of the Company’s best surgeons before being brought to you. None of them were sick.”
The captain of the marines approached the poop and saluted smartly. “Search completed, sir. The hold’s perhaps a quarter-full - some coin, silks, weapons, spices, and provisions.”
“Bring it across,” Beckett said. “Go on.”
“Crew of eight,” said the marine. “All claim to be survivors of some illness. They seem healthy enough.”
“So did the rest, before they popped their clogs,” put in Sparrow.
“And there’s only one longboat,” the marine concluded. “And we found these.”
He threw down a bundle of coloured cloth; colours from a variety of countries, a tattered East India Trading Company flag, and a large, black banner emblazoned with a white skull and crossbones. Beckett held the latter up to Sparrow, who shrugged.
“Don’t take away from the truth of what I’ve said,” he said, calmly.
“Thank you,” said Beckett to the marine. “Unload the hold.”
He watched Sparrow watching the contents of his ship be transferred to the Perseverance. The other man’s posture was relaxed, but his face was set and emotionless as the goods arrived on board. The process took a while, and Beckett called for tea while the marines and sailors worked. On board the Pearl, the crew had settled down around the mast and appeared resigned.
Eventually the transfer was complete. Beckett called Moore over. “If that’s all, Captain, you may open fire.”
Sparrow’s mask abruptly fell, and he swung around to face Beckett with fire in his eyes. “Open fire?”
“I think you heard me,” Beckett said.
“Belay that,” Sparrow snapped, speaking to Moore, who hesitated under the tone of the pirate’s voice. “It’d be murder,” he continued, turning back to Beckett. “Sheer bloody murder.”
“Are you talking about your crew or your ship?” Beckett asked, genuinely interested.
Sparrow’s gaze flicked back to the Black Pearl. “Both,” he said. “Look, mate, I’ll repay you your coin. Keep me prisoner, if you have to.”
“I warned you that the penalty for piracy is death,” Beckett said. “You seemed perfectly aware of that. It was the risk you ran; it will be the price you pay. What profit would there be for me to let you and your men sail away, Captain Sparrow?”
“I will sail away,” said Sparrow. “Head back to the Caribbean. Refrain from attacking your ships. Or I’ll give the word for the men to do it, if you’re so set on hanging me.”
Beckett sighed, and put his teacup down. “Still no profit, Captain. Understand me. This is the way the world is, now. We do business. If those we do business with break a bargain, then we take the necessary action. That is good business. Piracy is bad business, as you have no doubt now realised.” He turned to Moore. “Open fire.”
Moore nodded, and nodded again at Sparrow, and gave the order.
The Perseverance’s first shot caught the Black Pearl just aft of her bowsprit, and Beckett saw Sparrow flinch as if he himself had been hit. On the port side, the 32-gunner began her broadside.
The Company’s gunners were good, experienced at defending their ships and cargo. Each shot hit home; bringing down the Pearl’s high masts, thudding into her hull, splintering the rail. Sparrow watched silently, gripping the rail with his manacled hands so his knuckles showed white as the eight men aboard the black ship screamed for help and then fell silent under the cannonade. After the first broadside from both Company ships the Black Pearl was listing badly, her foremast gone completely, her main topmast fractured, her crossjack yard trailing in the sea.
The second broadside began a moment later, the balls holing the pirate ship’s hull further. A third was evidently not needed, and Moore called a halt to the firing. She was taking on water swiftly now, the bodies of her dead crew already afloat where the maindeck used to be.
“It’s just good business, Captain Sparrow,” Beckett said to the silent figure of the pirate captain. “Just good business.”