The green waters of the English Channel quietly rose and fell as a single gull screamed, falling from the sky to snatch a morsel of food then glide across the surface. The damp, gray coast of England could be seen as the dull thud of a bow cutting through waves could be heard. A ship labored up the channel under tops, gallants, and stays with the wind coming peacefully from the starboard quarter.
The ship, an older looking galleon with a single tier of gun ports, heeled to larboard ever so slightly with the grace of a fine sea bird, her long streaming pennant dancing from the mainmast’s peak and a large East India Company ensign billowing from the gaff-boom. Her hull was a flat black with a broad yellow stripe along the gun deck, actual gold paint on the gilt work, and a deep scarlet on the underside of the opened gun port lids. The sails were a weathered tan, the masts of natural wood with black fighting tops, caps, and yards. Her decks were a well sanded natural wood with well finished deck furniture; this vessel was a true work of art. The only odd aspect of the vessel was the stenciled name than ran along the width of the stern under the galleries in gold paint: <i>Wicked Wench</i>. The name hardly seemed to fit so fine looking a ship, one that obviously handled well and no doubt had a speed record of some sorts.
Upon the quarterdeck, an officer in a rather expensive looking civilian garb stood with one hand stretched out, a pocket watch resting open in his palm. He eyed the watch and snapped it shut, tucking it back into the pocket of his waistcoat then clasping his hands behind his back. The ribbon that tied back his powdered queue rippled in the wind as he turned to face away from the starboard rail and strode to the ship’s wheel where a small collection of other officers stood.
“Its half past ten Mr. Watts.†the officer said crisply, “Strike the bell and summon the captain.â€
The officer named Watts nodded, “Aye Mr. Farquhar.â€
The bell was sounded soon after and the ship stirred slightly, a few more hands coming topside from the waist to join those already on watch. A couple of marines in the dark EIC uniforms laughed as they jostled their shipmate awake, who had fallen asleep on watch by the hammock nettings.
Watts strode aft under the quarterdeck to the double doors that led to the great cabin. He entered quietly and observed the compartment in which the captain ran the ship. A large table was strewn with charts and navigational tools, a single glass of red wine from the previous night still sat on the table, half empty. A plain black cocked hat of the French style sat on the bench that ran under the stern windows next to a simple, yet ornately fine frock coat of brown tweed. Watts scuffed over to the door that led to the captain’s sleeping cabin and knocked on it.
A soft, smooth voice sounded from inside, “Yes?â€
Watts cleared his throat, “Half past ten sir. Mr. Farquhar wished to see that you were awake.â€
“I’ll be up presently.†the voice replied. The sound of boots scraping on the deck was heard as the captain moved about.
“Aye Captain.†Watts looked at the floor, then made back for the door. Once back out on the quarterdeck, he took his place by the wheel behind Farquhar, the executive officer aboard.
“Look Percy.†Farquhar addressed Watts, “’Bout four points off the larboard bow.â€
Farquhar was holding a lens to his eye, the corner of his mouth revealing his teeth as he squinted one eye shut. Watts looked around and grabbed a lens from the rack behind the standing compass, opening it and looking to where Farquhar had nodded. In the lens he could make out the large shadows of several ships riding at anchor behind the headland.
“Spithead?†Watts asked.
“That it is Percy.†Farquhar said with a grin, “Almost home.â€
“How many do you make out?†Watts asked, “I’ve counted at least six.â€
Farquhar shook his head, “I see seven. See? There’s a frigate moored off to the North of the third seventy-four.â€
Watts trained the lens to the right slightly, “Ah ha… there she is.†He lowered the lens, “Who’s squadron do you think it is?â€
Farquhar snapped his lens shut and returned it to the rack, “I’m willing to bet its Admiral Rodney.†he said, “See the <i>Dublin</i>?â€
Watts nodded, “Ah! But isn’t he Commodore?â€
“No, no!†Farquhar grinned, “He was made -Rear-Admiral a year ago.â€
“So what do we have here, gentlemen?†the quiet, yet commanding voice asked.
“The Channel squadron Sir…†Farquhar announced, “…Spithead.â€
The captain nodded as he ascended the stairs to the quarterdeck, then slowly glided over to the standing compass. He checked the heading and spun on his heel, the coattails of his frock fanning out as he did so.
He wore the brown tweed coat over a fine gray waistcoat and breeches that matched the frock. These he tucked into a black pair of riding boots; his shirt was an off white, slightly damp and weathered looking from wearing it for a long period of time. His white neck stock matched the shirt and his dark brown hair was pulled neatly back into a queue, one rebellious strand running down his right temple to the bottom of his ear. His sideburns were neatly edged and his thin moustache trimmed to perfection; a hint of a goatee was starting to show under his bottom lip and on his chin.
“Well Mr. Farquhar, lets loose the courses and get a little closer inshore.†the captain said, “The Thames awaits us.â€
The hands were called topside and began to scramble up the ratlines to inch out on the yards. It was a perilous thing, setting sails, but it was a natural and everyday occurrence in the life of a sailor. The canvas was lost and the courses bellied out with the wind as the corners of the boltrope were yanked back into control. The galleon began to pick up speed, the frothing bow wave becoming stronger and the wake more violent as the sails were secured. Next the wheel was put over a few spokes, slowly and easily swinging the rudder to larboard and nosing the bow towards the coast.
“Mr. Farquhar,†the captain said, “pipe all hands to breakfast. Then you may have them change into their best slops… the ladies <i>will</i> be watching…â€
Farquhar grinned and doffed his hat, “Aye aye captain!â€
_______________________________________________
The shores of the Thames were dotted with spectators as the <i>Wicked Wench</i> gracefully cut through the murky waters towards the East India anchorage. Their destination was an inlet along the Northern bank of the great river; a small collection of docks, a slip, the necessary warehouses, and a large two story office building of white stone with large columns at the entrance. The office complex was crowned by a tall flag mast the bore the dark colors of the East India Company, accompanied by the Union Jack below it. In the anchorage lay three two decked East Indiamen and a large first rate of the EIC Armed Escort Fleet.
“Run out the leeward chaser.†the captain said quietly to Watts, “Fire a salute.â€
Watts nodded and hurried forward to get the chaser’s gun crew at work. The piece was loaded with powder and run out, the gun captain ready with his linstock. Watts looked to the captain and held his arm up in preparation. The captain nodded and Watts cut down.
A sharp bang resounded around the area to great effect, the blue gray smoke rolling across the water as the wind procured it. Shortly afterward, a single thundering boom answered the approaching vessel from the first rate. The <i>Wicked Wench</i> drew near, not under topsails alone and the crew ready by the anchor. The Indiaman passed off the stern of the looming man-of-war, whose stern bore the name <i>Endeavor</i> in crisp yellow lettering.
“Heave to and launch the longboat presently.†the captain ordered, “Then you may haul back the gratings and rig the yardarms up as cranes. They’ll want our cargo soon, no doubt.â€
The captain’s orders proved to be correct as several large bares began to row out to the vessel, obviously ready to collect the contents of their hold. The captain stood nonchalantly on the quarterdeck, observing the EIC offices from the anchorage. He spied a solitary figure standing on the balcony of a second story window and knew who it was; a man of shorter stature and a mind far more powerful and manipulative than imaginable.
Soon the ship’s boat was bobbing up and down next to the ship, its oars tossed, as the captain descended the <i>Wicked Wenche’s</i> side. The boat rose up on a swell right as his boot stretched out to find footing, making for a perfectly tense boarding as it nearly caused the captain to lose his balance. Once safely seated in the stern sheets, the longboat shoved off and began to pull for the stone jetty that was no more than two hundred yards away. As the men strived at their oars, the captain looked about at the other ships and waterfront with interest. His eye caught a man standing on the jetty waiting for him, a man in the company of several EIC marines. The captain looked down, obviously feeling guilt for something that nobody else knew of, his mouth turned down into a frown as a brow raised with nervous dread.
The boat tied up alongside the jetty and the captain awkwardly stepped out of the heaving boat, looking up to see the one who waited for him. This greeter seemed to be in his early forties, the corners of his mouth eyes lined with creases amassed over years of stern frowns. However, his eyes were piercing and bold. His attire was a simple, dark brown suit; black leather gloves adding to his ominous appearance.
“You’re late.†he said. His accent was that of the common working class, which no doubt helped him to blend in when carrying out spy work for his aristocratic employer.
“I am?†the captain asked in fake surprise.
The agent rolled his eyes and gestured for him to follow him down the jetty. “Sir Cutler wishes to see you immediately.†As the captain followed in suit, the marines flanked him in close company.
“Not much of a colorful welcoming party, eh?†the captain asked a marine. The marine merely tightened the grip on his musket and turned his knuckles white. The captain gave the slightest hint of a flinch and looked back to the office building. The party trooped up the steps to the front entrance, two sentries stamped to attention and admitted the agent and captain entrance.
The front hall was very large and ornate. A sweeping staircase led to the second story and doors lined the first floor’s walls. Large EIC flags, coats of arms, and oil paintings adorned the walls as an example of the Company’s might. The two ascended the stairs and turned down a blue paneled hallway. The stopped at a door on the far left.
The agent knocked once and an assertive voice replied, “You may enter.â€
They stepped inside to see the short figure from the balcony. He was dressed in a dark red frock with black trim with well shined boots. His crisp, powdered wig was tied back neatly and his posture that of ‘delicate’ grace. His eyes were ambitious and confident.
“Ah, Mr. Sparrow…†his mouth turned up into something of a smirk, “Pray step forward.â€
The captain named Sparrow slowly approached the desk. He almost said something, but kept his mouth shut.
The EIC tycoon had seen this and raised a brow in mock interest, “Yes Mr. Sparrow?†he looked to the agent upon no answer and nodded, “You may leave us Mr. Mercer.â€
Once Mercer had left, Sparrow looked back to the other man, “I’d prefer to be called <i>Captain</i> Jack Sparrow, Sir Cutler. I am after all the captain of my own ship.â€
Beckett pretended to look as if he cared, “That’s all? Its not what <i>I</i> would have said… perhaps something more along the lines of an explanation is needed? You’re shipment is two weeks late.â€
Sparrow looked down without hanging his head, his mouth slightly open and his brow furrowed in thought, “Run in with a nasty squall…†he made an excuse, “…mizzen topmast went by the board and the forecourse split.â€
“Indeed?†Beckett looked surprised as he examined the <i>Wicked Wench</i> through the window, “You’re a master carpenter. I cannot even see where the repairs were needed… you’re also a good <i>liar</i>.â€
Sparrow’s face fell in defeat as Beckett came face to face with him smugly, “I’ll not have this Jack. You are a captain in the East India Company… and this running about upon your own endeavors must stop.â€
Sparrow stood quietly as Beckett looked at his desk, “You are a weak asset to the Company.†he continued, “Your shipments are constantly overdue and often the cause of severe delays in the trade routes.†he looked back to Sparrow, “I should discharge you.â€
Sparrow looked at Beckett with alarm, “But the <i>Wench</i>?! She’s the fastest ship you have! You can’t let me go?!â€
Beckett’s face was that of a decisive repulse of that remark, “But your incompetence and late arrivals neutralize that. What I could do is discharge <i>you</i> and keep the ship.â€
Sparrow looked desperately around the room, “But she’s all I’ve got… this employment is my living… what else could I do?â€
Beckett sternly looked at Sparrow for a moment, in thought, “I’ll give you a chance to prove my assumptions false Sparrow… a chance to give me a reason to call you captain.â€
Sparrow looked at the <i>Wench</i> with hope, “Just what do you think I need to do?â€
“You’ll run a personal errand… one for my personal agenda.†Beckett began, “It’s the only chance you’ll get… so do not fail to take advantage of my graces and do as I commission.â€
Sparrow grinned in appreciation, “You have my word, Sir Cutler!â€
Beckett coolly looked at him, “Good. You’ll weigh anchor after having a chance to unload your hold and refit. Once at sea you shall proceed to the Ivory Coast where I have a certain… cargo… of personal importance to me.â€
Sparrow nodded, “It shall be done.â€
Beckett finally strode over to his desk and produced an order packet, “Present these to the Company agent once you arrive. He will do the rest.†Beckett looked at the door, “This meeting is over.â€
Sparrow gave a light bow and turned to take his leave.
“Oh, actually… there’s something that I’ve forgotten.†Beckett stated.
The side door opened and an officer in an Armed Fleet uniform stepped into the office.
“This is Post-Captain Nathaniel Edwards.†Beckett began, “He was to take command of the <i>Wicked Wench</i> upon your discharge… but for now, he’ll accompany you as your second in command.â€
“Captain Sparrow… Sir.†Captain Edwards warmly stepped forth and offered a hand, “Looking forward to serving with you.â€
“Yes, he will be serving <i>with</i> you…†Beckett added, “Not under, nor over. He will take it upon himself to assume command and fulfill the tasking if you are found incompetent.â€
Sparrow nodded, “Yes Sir Cutler. Captain…†Sparrow shook Edwards’ hand.
“May the wind fill your sails and assist you in a speedy voyage.†Beckett said, more of a warning to not deviate.
The captains nodded and Edwards smartly saluted, then they took their leave of the office.
<i>I think the question of how to make the audience believe that Beckett is bad and deserves to lose was raised earlier. Well, using the slaves for a personal endeavor would merit such a distaste from the audience.
I hope you guys liked it! GREAT work on the Mercer drawing there... Mercer! </i>
<img src="style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/smile2.gif" style="vertical-align:middle" emoid="
)" border="0" alt="smile2.gif" />
" border="0" alt="modding.gif" /> <img src="style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/boom.gif" style="vertical-align:middle" emoid=":boom" border="0" alt="boom.gif" /> I AM GOING TO KILL THIS DAMN WEBSITE! It STILL wont let me put the picture on EVEN THOUGH i am attempting to upload it from photobucket, due to a "no dynamic pages allowed" or some crap. I am getting very POed about this.
" border="0" alt="biggrin.gif" /> Good stuff there.
" border="0" alt="me.gif" />
" border="0" alt="icon_wink.gif" /><!--QuoteEnd--></div><!--QuoteEEnd-->
" border="0" alt="dunno.gif" /><!--QuoteEnd--></div><!--QuoteEEnd-->
" border="0" alt="rolleyes.gif" /> but nevermind. i'll figure out a way to improve my technique. most likely being practice, and lots of it.
:" border="0" alt="pirate2.gif" /> you know this guy wouldn't give a second's thought or a moments pause about shooting someone dead. <img src="style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/guns.gif" style="vertical-align:middle" emoid=":2guns" border="0" alt="guns.gif" />
" border="0" alt="icon_mrgreen1.gif" /> 