|
|
|
A bit from my fic: Browncoat's at World's end. The WIP has been pisted at my LJ and at Fanfiction.net. A link to the main fic is in my profile
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Caribbean sea, North of Jamaica
Three bells struck the afternoon watch. James left the comfort of of his own cabin minutes before to meet with Cutler Becket. He had checked his appearance one last time before he left his room. Everything on his navy coat was secure, the buttons held in place, the brockade shining as if he had just polished. Not a single lock of brown hair had fallen loose, all of it was tied back and covered in his white wig and hat.
“Mr. Norrington,” Mercer greeted through a grin that was more of a sneer. When he was lietuenant and sailing on the ship heading from England to Port Royal he had seen a great white shark jump out of the water. Mercer’s smile was like the shark’s mouth.
“Commodore,” James corrected.
“Commodore,” Mercer said and opened the door. “Allow me to announce you.” He slipped inside the room. “Commodore Norrington is here to se you, sir.”
“He may enter,” Cutler Beckett said from inside.
James nodded at Mercer before he entered the room.
Beckett was seated at his desk, pouring over some form of document with a quill in hand. “You are on time,” he stared up at him.
“I try to be,” Jame said as he loomed over the shorter man. Even if Beckett were standing he would still tower over him.
“I have sent messages out, told sailors to spread word that I have what this Davy Jones is looking for. Many of my sailors have returned with people found in long boats, people who have escaped the great squid. Jones is looking for his heart and he will find us.”
“And you will have instructions for him?” James asked. It seemed the lord had everything well thought out.
“We will have instructions for him,” Beckett corrected.
“You are willing to meet with Jones?” James raised an eyebrow. He had figured the man to stay behind closed doors and allowed people like Mercer to perform his actions for him. Was he willing to meet with Davy Jones? Norrington had yet to encounter such a figure and only had met with his crew and he had heard their captain was far more frightening.
“I am the one who holds the heart.”
“And don’t forget who gave it to you,” Norrington said.
“As you can tell by your present appearance I am most grateful for the gift,”
Beckett rose from his seat. “You forget your place, Norrington?”
“No sir, nor will I forget how I earned nor will I forget what Governor Swann has given up for the deal you promised him.”
“You both do not have to worry,” Beckett walked from behind his desk. “Miss Swann and Mr. Turner have nothing to worry about, that is unless they break more laws, slip into acts of piracy.” He studied James’s expression. “When you arrived with the heart I had wondered if you had slipped back into your old ways.” He grabbed James’s hand and pulled the sleeve of his uniform back, exposing his wrist. There were a few jagged scars across the flesh, distorting the P shaped burn mark.
“I was only a boy.” James pulled his arm back and stared at the scars in disgust. “I joined when I was 14 and received this mark when I was no older than Turner.”
“And given the choice to serve under the king or the gallows,” the corner of Beckett’s mouth pulled into a smirk. “I believe you chose well. We all have to make choices. I hope you remember to choose well in the future.”
“I will only choose to sail under the king first and your command second.” He pulled his sleeve back down.
“Lord Beckett?” Mercer called out from behind the door.
“I am in the middle of a meeting,” Beckett said.
“I am sorry sir, but there is reports that a strange ship is approaching.”
“The Dutchman,” James said. “I believe it is time for our meeting with Captain
Jones.”
Beckett opened one of the drawers and pulled out a familiar bag. It was the same bag, James had handed him, the bag that had bought his life back. “After you, Commodore.”
“
Yes sir, Lord Beckett.” James left the room first, followed after Mercer as they raced up the stairs to join several men on the deck. James stared in the direction his men were pointing at. Through the fog he could make out the image of a large
ship.
“Is that it?” Beckett asked.
“I’m not certain,” James answered. He did not remove his gaze as the ship came closer. He could see that it was old and not well taken care of. He blinked. What he had thought was mud were barnacles. The entire ship was covered in barnacles. “It’s the Dutchman.”
 Spacebabie76 · Sat Feb 04, 2006 @ 12:19am · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
