Pirates Of The Caribbean Fan Fiction ❯ Master of the Sea ❯ Chapter 1

Title: Master of the Sea

Author: Hurricane Islandheart
Summary: This divergence picks up after the end of Dead Man's Chest with the rescue of Captain Jack Sparrow from Davy Jones's Locker. However, Jack finds himself quickly ensnared in yet another trap of Jones's design, and this time he's accompanied by Will Turner and James Norrington. Jones is not taking the loss of his heart to Cutler Beckett lightly, and his plans for these three men include making them pay dearly for allowing it to fall into Beckett's hands. Meanwhile, the crew of the Black Pearl is not taking the loss of their recently-recovered captain and good friend well. With Barbossa at the helm, they set out to find any means possible of getting Jack and Will back without losing their own lives in the process. While undertaking this endeavour, they discover that the Aztec gold may not have been the only curse on the Black Pearl.

Adult Content Advisory: This story contains excessive violence, extreme sexual situations, aberrational behavior, drug use and other elements which most parents would consider too strong for viewing by their children and may be upsetting to some adult readers. Reader discretion is advised.

Credits: Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl (2003), Dead Man's Chest (2006), and At World's End (2007) are copyrighted to Walt Disney Pictures and distributed under their Buena Vista label. The CotBP story was written by Ted Elliot, Terry Rossio, Stuart Beattie and Jay Wolpert; DMC and AWE story were written by Ted Elliot and Terry Rossio. The Pirates of the Caribbean: Jack Sparrow series (written by Rob Kidd and illustrated by Jean-Paul Orpinas) is copyright 2006 to Disney Enterprises, Inc. The Pirates' Guidelines (by Joshamee Gibbs), Bring Me That Horizon: The Making of Pirates of the Caribbean (by Michael Singer), and The Art of Pirates of the Caribbean (various artists) are copyright 2007 Disney Enterprises, Inc. The Pirate Primer: Mastering the Language of Swashbucklers and Rogues (by George Choundas) is copyright 2007 to George Choundas.

 

Chapter 1

 

Lord Cutler Beckett glanced over the papers he was reading as the limp form of Jack Sparrow hit the floor in front of his desk. He looked up at the soldiers who had tossed the pirate to the floor and met the eyes of an angry Will Turner.

 

“What's the meaning of this, Beckett?” Will demanded.

 

“Lord Beckett to you, Pirate,” Beckett replied. “And I would think that even someone as feeble-minded as yourself would have figured it out - I have full authority to arrest any pirates who roam into my jurisdiction.”

 

“Your jurisdiction?” Will asked incredulously. “You sent your lapdog after us!” He waved in the general direction of James Norrington, who was standing to the side of the room. “Taking someone on the open sea is hardly capturing them in your jurisdiction.”

 

“Mister Turner, may I remind you that the open sea now is my jurisdiction,” Beckett said sharply. He looked again at the pirate lying on the floor. “However, Admiral Norrington, I asked for the two pirates alive - not one alive and one dead.”

 

Just then, Jack stirred and sat up. He rubbed the back of his head and opened one eye to glare up at Beckett. “Don't worry, that whelp of yours couldn't kill me if he tried,” Jack said. “All he can do is take cheap shots at the back of peoples' heads.”

 

“Good,” Beckett replied. “Then I have no fear of my trade merchandise being compromised.” He looked up at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching from outside. The soldiers in the door hurriedly scurried aside. “Ah, and here are my client's representatives now. Good day, gentlemen.”

 

Four of Davy Jones's crew pushed their way into the room. “Forget the formalities, Beckett,” Maccus snarled. “Just hand over the men so we can leave.”

 

“By all means,” Beckett replied congenially. He waved to the soldiers guarding Will and Jack. “These pirates are going to be going with Captain Jones's men,” he said.

 

The soldiers hurriedly shoved Will and Jack toward the barnacle-clad sea creatures. They made to escort them out the door, but Jones's first mate held firm. “Not so fast, Beckett,” he said. “We were told that we'd be bringing three pirates back.”

 

Beckett looked blankly at them for a moment then glanced at the papers on his desk. He picked one up and read it over. “Let's see...one William Turner, one Captain Jack Sparrow...ah yes.” He looked up and waved to the soldiers again. “And one James Norrington.”

 

Norrington's head snapped around in shock as he spun to confront Beckett. “Wh-what are you talking about?” he demanded. “I am a privateer; the Letters of Marque were signed by the King!”

 

“Privateer, pirate...it's all the same thing to anyone outside England. I'm afraid the distinction was lost on Captain Jones,” Beckett replied. “However, since he was only concerned with obtaining those whose hands delivered his heart to me, I didn't quibble with semantics.”

 

Norrington was speechless with shock as one of the soldiers grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him over to join Will and Jack. He turned wide eyes toward the floor as his weapons were stripped from him and tossed to the center of the room.

 

“Hope he paid you well for your trouble, Mate,” Jack whispered to Norrington.

 

“Can't say that I would have been able to set a price on my own head,” Will whispered from the other side.

 

“Sh-shut up...just...shut up,” Norrington seethed. His body shook with anger and he clenched his fists to keep himself from doing something stupid.

 

“The lot of you, shut up!” Jones's crewman snapped. He slapped the three of them across the back of the head and shoved them in front of him out the door. “You belong to Davy Jones and the Flying Dutchman now.”

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

Elizabeth Swann growled in frustration as she paced along the dock. She looked over at where repairs were being made to the Black Pearl, then back toward the open sea where Norrington's ship had disappeared with Jack and Will. “They are getting further away by the minute!” Elizabeth said. “We should just leave the Pearl here and take a handful of men to crew the Sapphire to follow them.”

 

Captain Barbossa walked up beside her and matched her stride. “The Sapphire is a good ship, but she's nowhere near as fast as the privateers employed by England,” he replied. “If we set sail with the Sapphire now, they would still be gaining on us, and we risk losing both ships if they should turn and attack us. If we wait for the Pearl to be repaired, we'll have the faster ship and be in a better position for a fight.”

 

“And what do we do if something happens to Jack and Will in the meantime?” Elizabeth demanded. “They'll have at least a day on us by the time the Pearl is repaired. Even if they are headed back to Port Royal, the two of them could be swinging from the gallows before we ever get there!”

 

“I don't reckon that killing them is what Norrington or Beckett wants,” Gibbs said. He walked up to the pair and met them as they paced back up the dock. “Norrington's men were careful to take them alive, even when they had plenty of opportunities to shoot either of them - that was clear by the cheap shot that Norrington took to the back of Jack's head.” He paused and lifted a bottle of rum to his mouth. He took a long swallow, then looked back out to sea where the privateer had disappeared. “No, I have a bad feeling in me bones, a bad feeling that says what awaits Jack and Will in Port Royal is worse than death.”

 

Elizabeth stared bitterly at the rolling waves. “And as much as I disliked Norrington, I thought him a better man than to board a crippled ship with an excessive amount of men to fight a skeleton crew,” she said. “He would go on and on about how I was a fool for trusting Jack or Will...and now he's gone and shown that he's no more honorable than anyone else.”

 

“It's the nature of a privateer, Love,” Gibbs replied. “They're just pirates with a pardon from their parent country - the rest of the world thinks as little of them as they think of us who are right and proper pirates; some people think even less of them.”

 

Elizabeth frowned as she remembered the argument she'd had with Will before they'd boarded the ships to sail for Tortuga. He'd insisted that she remain on the Star Sapphire with Barbossa and the rest of the Pearl's crew as he, Jack and Gibbs guided the limping Pearl into port. She'd tried to remind him that it took at least six people to handle the Pearl; he'd reminded her that the Sapphire took equally as many and would be sailing for her own self as well as guiding the crippled Pearl. Really, he had reasoned with her, they were just there to guide the ship should anything go wrong. They fully expected that the Pearl might have ended up even having to be towed part of the way. They'd always be within eyesight of each other, he'd told her. Jack had agreed wholeheartedly and then demanded half of the Sapphire's rum for his own ship.

 

The sun was setting over Tortuga, casting heavy shadows over the port. The Black Pearlbecame an ominous silhouette as her ebony hull and black sails darkened against the evening sky, and the last rays of the sun made the radiant shine on the hull of the Star Sapphire reflect her gem-like star one more time before she became just one more dark blue ship in the evening waters.

 

Elizabeth Swann turned back to the other two pirates. “We need to find a crew while the Pearl is being repaired,” she said. “It's time the Black Pearl paid another visit to Port Royal.”

 

Captain Barbossa grinned. “Now you're thinking like a pirate, Lass,” he replied.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

Will Turner glared disdainfully at Davy Jones's crew as the three of them were prodded off the ladders and onto the deck of the Flying Dutchman. The crew in turn glared back at the three human men; a couple of them snarled taunting epithets at them. Jack looked around boredly and picked at his teeth; Norrington glanced about warily.

 

Bootstrap approached the three from the back of the crowd. “William...” he began.

 

Will waved him off. “Don't get yourself in more trouble over this,” he said. “We'll take care of ourselves.”

 

“You should be proud, Bootstrap,” Jack commented. “Young William here has become fabulous at getting himself into trouble.”

 

Just then, Davy Jones's voice boomed out of the doorway to the captain's cabin. “Mister Turner, get back to your work!” he bellowed. “You there!” He pointed to the crew members guarding the three pirates. “Bring those three to my cabin. I have some words to exchange with them.”

 

Bootstrap backed away as the three were pushed forward, then hurried off to comply with Jones's orders. Jack, Will and Norrington were taken directly to the captain's cabin and roughly pushed inside. The door slammed behind them.

 

Davy Jones glared at them from his seat in front of his pipe organ. “Are you three aware why you're here?” he asked.

 

The three men looked at each other, then glanced around the room before looking at Jones again. “Beckett said something about us being the ones who handed over your heart to him,” Will finally said.

 

Jones stood up angrily. “Indeed, Mister Turner, that is why I requested that he send you three as his first 'payment' for my services,” he snarled. He strode up to the three and leaned into Jack's face. “I did not, Mister Sparrow, tell him that you're a slippery, conniving pain in my rear who is still trying to cheat his way out of debt. You were supposed to be dead, taken down to the depths by the Kraken.”

 

He turned to Will. “Nor did I tell him that you, Mister Turner, are a pretty-faced, thieving charlatan who stole the key to the chest from me in the first place.” He straightened up a bit. “Had he been privy to that information, he may have seen fit to try to break our deal and keep you two for himself.”

 

He turned to Norrington. “You must be James Norrington. When I asked my crew who else had put their hands on the chest besides Mister Sparrow and Mister Turner, they described a sorry, scruffy looking pirate who'd been on the island with them. When I inquired about said person to Mister Beckett, he immediately came up with your name.” He paused and lifted his pipe to his mouth. He took a long puff off of it and breathed the smoke into Norrington's face. “Tell me, what would compel a fool like you to hand over control of the seven seas to a greedy, self-serving merchant like Beckett?”

 

Norrington leaned his face away from the smoke and coughed. “I...I was only trying to acquire the pardon that he offered,” he suggested lamely. “He wanted Sparrow's compass, but everyone knew that he wanted the compass so that he could find the chest and heart himself. I thought that if I delivered the heart to him, he'd have no objections to me taking the pardon and commission that he had offered to Sparrow.”

 

“So for a little bit of 'honor' among the public you sold out the lives and safety of every sailor on the open sea?” Jones asked. “That takes quite an ego, Mister Norrington. We'll have to do away with that.” He looked over the three and noticed the compass hanging at Jack's side. He quickly grabbed it off of Jack's belt with his tentacled hand and fended off Jack's rebuffs with his clawed hand. “This is the compass you spoke of, I take it?”

 

Norrington looked away. “Yes,” he replied bitterly.

 

“Ah, Captain Jones,” Jack began. “Surely a master of the sea such as yourself has no need for such a trinket,” he said. “And I mean, there haven't been a lot of people what have had much luck with the thing besides me -”

 

Davy Jones waved him to silence. He flipped the compass open and watched the needle rotate around until it found the heading it was seeking. “Indeed,” he said. “A compass that doesn't point north...I can't expect that most sailors would find use in such an artifact; unless, of course, they realized that it pointed toward that which they desired most.” He snapped the compass shut and tucked it into his beard-like tentacles.

 

Jack winced and shifted his weight around for a moment. Jones noticed his fidgeting and glared at him. “And don't even think of trying to get that boy to steal it back from me!” he spat. “I'm on to your insipid tricks and I'm not going to fall for them again!”

 

“Captain Jones, if you distrust us so much, why are we here?” Will demanded.

 

“Ah, there's the heart of the matter now, isn't there?” Jones replied. “You three are here because you've contributed to putting me in a very difficult situation,” he said. “Fortunately for you, you're also the three pirates that people speak the most ill of; that means that you might actually be useful to me.”

 

“H-how do you mean 'useful'?” Norrington asked. He looked warily at the Flying Dutchman's captain.

 

“Oh, I can think of a whole host of things to use a trio of strapping young men such as yourself for,” Jones replied. Jack's face twisted into an awkward grimace and he started to edge backward; Will and Norrington looked a couple of shades paler than they had a moment earlier. “However, you're going to be the most useful to me as members of my crew.”

 

“Er, your crew?” Jack began. “Are you telling me that we three handsome but admittedly human and rather small in comparison to your wonderfully devout and sizable existing crew members are in any way able to supercede said members in usefulness?”

 

“Yes, that is what I'm saying, Mister Sparrow,” Jones snapped. “Because you see, now that Mister Beckett is able to give me 'suggestions' as to what to target, I have targets in places where I cannot go. I can go to port only once every ten years; my men are trained to destroy ships, not board and pillage them. That is where you three will come in. You will be my human feet and human contacts with targets that I would have difficulty with otherwise.”

 

“Suppose your offer doesn't interest us?” Norrington replied.

 

Jones was immediately in Norrington's face with his clawed hand gripping the man's chin in its razor-sharp points. “Oh, you're interested, Mister Norrington,” Jones said. “Unless you're more interested in learning first hand the variety of ways that I've learned to inflict pain and suffering on human beings! Don't think for a moment that I would let you skip merrily off to Death's waiting hands to escape me.”

 

“Ah-ah yes, the offer does seem more reasonable now,” Norrington stammered.

 

“Spineless,” Jack whispered to him. He kicked Norrington's shin.

 

“Idiot,” Will added in a harsh whisper.

 

Jones turned to them. “Ah, boys, boys,” he began. “I see that you two don't like Mister Norrington any more than I like the three of you.” He set his claw down on Jack's right shoulder, his tentacled hand on Will's left shoulder and drew the two of them together in front of him. “Despite that, you three will learn to get along,” he snarled. “I want no bickering among my crew, and that includes the three of you. I run a tight ship - or have you forgotten, Mister Turner?”

 

Will looked at the floor and reined in his anger. “No, Sir,” he replied.

 

“Good,” Jones replied. He straightened up and turned to a chest on the side of the room; he walked over and kicked it in front of the men. “However, that does remind me,” he said. “As members of my crew, you are not in need of any of that frippery the three of you are wearing. Starting today, you are allowed shirt, breeches and boots. Any additional clothing or accessories are to be approved by me.” He flipped the chest open. “Dump them in,” he instructed.

 

The three men looked warily at each other and then at the trunk. Jack curled his fingers instinctively around the rings on his hands and fingered the wrappings on his arms. Norrington pulled his coat more tightly about himself, loathing to think about being exposed in any way on the ghastly ship. Will pursed his lips into a thin line and glared at the captain.

 

“If you would rather not give them up yourselves, I can have the bosun remove them for you,” Jones said warningly.

 

Will sighed and spoke through clenched teeth. “No, Sir,” he said. “That's not necessary.” He quickly stripped off his coat and overshirt, leaving only the thin, white undershirt behind. He pulled the string that his hair was bound in a ponytail with and tossed all of them into the chest.

 

Norrington watched Will shed the extra layers of clothing. He hesitated momentarily, wondering why the young man had agreed so readily; then he remembered that Will had been captive on the Flying Dutchman briefly and probably knew something about the bosun that he didn't know. He decided to follow Will's example and quickly shed the outer layers of his clothing, as well as the empty sword scabbard he wore and the belt that had kept his vest pinned. He folded them into a neat stack and dropped them into the chest as well. His hands fumbled with the white wig on his head for a moment, then the artificial hair came loose; several hair pins clattered to the floor and Norrington's own rich brown hair tumbled down and around his shoulders. He quickly gathered up the pins and wig and added them to the chest.

 

The two of them turned to look at Jack, who was still fidgeting with the decorations on his fingers. He frowned as he twisted the ends of the fabric wrapped around his wrist.

 

“Jack, just give it up,” Will hissed. “What's more important? A few baubles that could be had anywhere?”

 

“I'll have you know that most of my belongings cannot be found 'anywhere', William,” Jack retorted. “I've been through a lot to acquire all of this stuff; it's not something that I plan on just giving up on a whim.”

 

Davy Jones sighed and stomped up to stand in Jack's face, his claw leg thunking hollowly on the floorboards. “Always a difficult one, aren't you, Sparrow?” he demanded. “BOSUN!”

 

The door opened and the bosun strode in. He unfurled his whip as he walked up to the group; the three men realized that Jones must have given him an order to stand ready just in case.

 

“I think five lashes for every piece of frippery should be fair, if it's that important to you,” Jones said. “Take off the coat and shirts, unless you want the bosun to assist with that,” he said. “You're welcome to put them back on after you take the lashes for them.”

 

Jack glared at Jones for a moment longer. The bosun quickly became impatient and grabbed a hold of Jack's sleeve.

 

“Hands off the garment, mate, I can handle it myself!” Jack said sharply. He shrugged out of the barnacle-clad man's grip and took off his jacket, vest and belts. He dumped them into the chest. “Don't worry,” Jack shot back at Jones, “if they're that precious to you, you can have them.”

 

“Don't get smart with me!” Jones snapped. He walked around behind Jack and grabbed the waist of his shirt. He quickly lifted it over the pirate's shoulders and eyed the tan, scarred back. “As I expected,” he remarked. “Mister Sparrow here has little respect for the whip because he's seen plenty of it in the past.”

 

Will and Norrington glanced at Jack's back and immediately understood Jones's statement. The tan flesh was laced from top to bottom with various sizes of scars left behind by a whip. Some of the scars were old and faded while others were less so and stood out fairly prominently. Jones dropped Jack's shirt hem and walked around in front of him again.

 

“The punishment stands as stated,” the sea captain continued. “Five lashes for every decoration on your body; I'll be generous and count each strand of beads in your hair as one item, for Mister Turner's sake.”

 

“What?” Will cried. He paled, and all of the eyes in the room turned to him momentarily, before looking back at Jones for an explanation.

 

“Well it should be clear, shouldn't it?” Jones asked. “I know for a fact that Mister Turner's back is much less accustomed to the whip than Sparrow's is. He'll take the punishment for Sparrow's obstinacy.” Jones turned his tentacled face back to Jack. “It's a good thing you have no qualms about letting others settle your debts, isn't it Mister Sparrow?”

 

Jack averted his eyes and glanced at Will, who was still frozen in disbelief. Will caught Jack's eyes and came to his senses. “Jack!” he exclaimed. “What are you waiting for? Get rid of your jewelry!”

 

Jack fingered the rings and wraps on his hands as though counting them. Jones waved to the bosun who stepped forward and spun Will to face the wall. “Hands against the wall, Weasel,” he snarled. “You know the drill.” He grabbed onto Will's shirt to tear it from his back.

 

“Easy on his clothing, Bosun,” Jones instructed. “What he's wearing is all that he currently has, so take care not to destroy it. Oh, and we unfortunately need his flesh to stay on his back. Lighten your hand a bit on the whip - perhaps something slightly stronger than his father's hand will suffice.”

 

“Aye, Captain,” the bosun replied. He moved to adjust his grip on Will's shirt, but found the fabric pulled from his hand.

 

“I get it, already,” Will grumbled. He pulled the shirt off and wadded it up, then threw it angrily at Jack. “Dammit, Jack, I'm getting sick of taking the fallout from your bullshit!” he said. He turned back to the wall and leaned against it with his hands flat and his arms supporting his weight.

 

The bosun shook his whip loose and readied himself to snap it across the exposed flesh in front of him. The whip marks given to Will by Bootstrap were still clearly visible and were pink where the flesh was still knitting itself together. Jack and Norrington looked on in uneasy silence.

 

Just as the bosun raised his arm, Jack spoke. “Hold up, hold up,” he said quickly. He pulled the bandana from around his head and folded the rings from his fingers into it. He tied it into a sachet and wound the wrappings from his hands and wrists around it. He held it up in front of Jones's face. “Savvy?” he asked. He dropped it into the trunk on top of his clothes and tossed his hat in on top of it.

 

“And the jewelry in your hair,” Jones replied.

 

“Be reasonable, Mate,” Jack began. “It's not designed to really come out, after all...”

 

The bosun brought the whip down across Will's back with a sharp crack. Will screamed as the leather left a bleeding red gash from his right shoulder to the left side below his ribs. His knees buckled slightly, but he kept himself on his feet as the bosun drew back his arm again.

 

A second crack echoed through the cabin, and amid Will's shriek of pain Jack called out to Jones. “STOP! Stop! It's enough.” He reached into his boot and drew out a small knife. He quickly severed the locks of hair holding the beads in place and clipped the beads from the braids on his beard. “That's everything,” he said. He dropped the beads and knife into the chest on top of the rest of his belongings. He held up his hands and pulled his sleeves up to show that his arms were likewise bare.

 

Davy Jones raised his hand to halt the whip. “I expect there's nothing else hidden in your boots as well,” Jones said skeptically.

 

“Nothing,” Jack confirmed. “Only my feet.”

 

Jones raised an eyebrow suspiciously. He glanced toward the bosun again.

 

“For the love of God, Sparrow, dump out your boots and show him you don't have anything else!” Norrington exclaimed. He was pale and looked like he could be sick at any moment.

 

Jack quickly slipped his boots off and turned them upside down. “See?” he asked. He shook them wildly for a moment then calmly put them back on his feet. “For all that you people don't trust me, I do tell the truth rather regularly.”

 

“Stand down, bosun,” Jones commanded. He waved the bosun away from Will. “Mister Sparrow seems to be of a mind to cooperate now, so you may leave.”

 

The bosun bowed and walked out; he closed the door behind him with a loud bang. Norrington looked ready to jump out of his skin, and Jack and Will winced at the sound.

 

Will stumbled over to join the other two and picked up his shirt from where it'd fallen near Jack's feet. His face was taut with stress and pain, and he turned and looked at Davy Jones, being careful not to make eye contact with either Jack or Norrington.

 

“I cannot afford to have you three running loose on the ship where you might try to escape or cause undue trouble for me,” Jones snarled. “Having realized this well in advance, I had your sleeping quarters arranged in my cabin - and, since a certain thief has already caught me off guard in my sleep,” he looked hard into Will's eyes, then turned his attention back to the three of them as a group, “I sleep much more lightly now.”

 

The captain clomped over to a shallow alcove in the cabin and pulled aside a curtain of seaweed. The green tendrils revealed sturdy steel bars running from floor to ceiling, much like a jail cell. Jones slipped a key into the lock on the bars and swung them open to reveal three triple-stacked hammocks and a ladder for climbing into them. “Which hammock each of you sleeps in is up to you as long as there are no fights and no disturbing of my sleep. The three of you will remain in here unless I am able to supervise your work on the ship.”

 

Jones stepped aside and motioned for the three of them to enter the makeshift cell. They cautiously moved forward and edged around Jones into the alcove. “I suggest you all value what time you have to sleep; you're going to be full-time crew with full-time duties starting tomorrow morning.”

 

He stepped out of the cell, then paused and looked back over his shoulder at the three of them. He eyed them up for a moment and took a couple of thoughtful puffs off of his pipe. Then, he pointed at Norrington with the pipe and gestured for him to step outside the cell. “You - Mister Norrington,” he said. “Come with me.”