The Wraith of Jack

Part Three: "Survival"

****
The little sloop was tied off and the two men treaded up the stairs quietly. James glanced around, taking in the peaceful area enclosed by trees and the gentle flow of the river. Will went into the shack first, causing Tia Dalma to finish hanging a jar from the ceiling quickly before turning around. A broad grin showed her blackened teeth and a small sigh of relief escaped her even blacker lips.

“I’tis a joyful t’ing to see you again, William Turner,” she greeted warmly in her silky voice.
Will smiled and nodded his head. “As it is for me seeing you.”

James stood behind and to the side of Will, appearing somewhat uneasy. The enchantress moved in front of him and he met her unwavering gaze.

“’Tis a good t’ing dat you ‘ave come, James Norrington.”

His eyes narrowed in befuddlement. She stared at him for a minute more before she strolled to the table and sat down. Will followed – and after a moment’s hesitation, so did James – and they took a seat across from her.

“It is a shame that our reason for coming is not happier,” Will started. “We believe Jack is in danger. His….living spirit has visited us both on several occasions recently.”
An expression of grief shadowed Tia Dalma’s previously cheerful features. “Him be in an evil, dark place; one dat him should never ‘ave been taken to. ‘De pain him will come to know will be worse dan any him ‘ave known in ‘de past.”
“What have you seen?”
“Not as much as I ‘ad hoped. Him be locked away for ‘de world to forget.”

Will was about to speak, but he paused when she carefully snatched a handful of various animal claws. She shook them mildly and uttered words in a foreign language. Before long, she dropped them onto the hard surface. They scattered about and abruptly settled in positions as if forced.

“Him be here,” she stated and pointed to the claw in the middle.

****
His lungs screamed. His body was trapped in a burning inferno; his feet spawned blisters and cuts. One or two fell along the way – their legs and will were overtaken by physical exhaustion – and he hated the dreadful sounds of the harsh beatings that were fast to follow. It was a dwindling part of the compassion side of human nature that pressured him to aid those who could not continue, but the survival instincts always won out. There was no way any man could help another in such a situation. To each his own. They had to be left. Run to survive.

“Right! Right!” the four soldiers shouted from atop their horses.

The whips they possessed commenced their loud cracking noises as they came down on various men’s backs. The pack of wearied prisoners shifted their direction, and Jack hoped that the lash would not find him.

After eternity, they arrived to the main compound and were herded inside.

“Enjoy your exercise, boys?” a captor questioned with a snicker.

It was difficult for Jack not to collapse the instant he stepped into the hellish building. He was able to refrain from doing so until he was securely returned to his cell. He dropped to the floor in a sweating, panting, overworked heap, as the iron-bar door was slammed shut. It would be incredibly easy to pass out, yet he knew the consequence if he did. They would skip him.

His cell was at the end of the hall, making it a long while in his mind before the soldier showed. Jack rushed to the bars when the man came into view and opened his mouth by one of the square openings. The man dipped the metal ladle into the bucket of water and Jack waited eagerly for the refreshment.

The instant he felt the cool liquid on his busted lip and the rush of it down his throat like a waterfall sent him into bliss. It was absolutely wonderful.

But all too soon, it was gone. The spoon had emptied itself completely into his mouth. There would be no more water for an extensive amount of time.

He hauled himself to the middle of his cell and stretched out on his back. It would make no difference to him if there was hay covering the stone floor or not; he could not feel its minute cushion anymore.

He lifted his right hand and stared through barely opened eyelids at it. The bandage had not been removed; he was afraid to. He knew the sight would simply make him vomit, and he could not afford to lose any of the few contents his stomach contained. They had swollen, his hands, and were slightly discolored. The distress they caused was still great, but at the moment, they did not compare to the pain in his legs and chest.

Like most of his fellow captives, he slipped happily into unconsciousness.

****
Leisurely, Jack had begun to learn the names of the familiar faces.

Bradley – brought the water about to the cells. Sometimes in small cups, other times it was just from the ladle.
Hansen, Carter, Daniels, and Garner – the four horsemen. Wielded the whips during the runs and would often remove a prisoner or two from their cells for a punishment.
Wilson and Newton – the ground soldiers that would brutalize the ones who fell during the runs. Often seen carrying clubs or other weapons.
Johnson – the “Devil’s Doctor.” Surgeon who performed various, horrendous medical treatments; he could amputate a limb and have a luscious lunch afterward. Nothing phased him on the operating table.

There were plenty more men patrolling the campus, but Jack had few skirmishes with them, if at all.

The man who occupied the cell next to him was thrown in, and he remained strewn out on the ground. Jack looked at him with concern and curiosity. What had happened to this one?

He inched toward the iron-bar divider and hissed quietly to get the male’s attention.

“What do ya want?” the neighbor responded.
“What’s your name?”
“Robert.”
“Robert, would you mind tellin’ me what your event was this time?”

Robert sat up and moved closer to the other pirate. “An interrogation. They want to know more about the buccaneers that roam the area. They’re not even real soldiers. Well, some were former ones and others are still somewhat in the Fleet, but they’re their own army. They hunt down pirates and bring them here to their secret prison; they even capture honest sailors just for the hell of it. All devil’s work by my reckonin’.”
Jack took in the words slowly and nodded his head. “I see.”
“We’re never goin’ to see freedom again.”
Jack smiled faintly. “I don’t count on it either.”

He started to move away, but Robert’s inquiry made him stop.

“What’s your name?”
“Jack.”
Robert sighed and a tiny grin pried his lips. “Welcome to Hell, Jack.”
The smile Jack had grew. “Same to you, mate.”

****
Will examined the sparkling glass bottle he held. Before taking their leave, Tia Dalma presented it to him and instructed, “Make ‘im drink a little of it each day until it be gone.” He did not doubt that it contained a magical element that would speed Jack to recovery if need be.

It was not the only request Tia Dalma made of him. He and James were to find a Navy uniform; its use would present itself in time. The simplest way was to return to Port Royal in order for James to retrieve his retired one. Neither understood why, but Tia Dalma was always right; it was never good to question her ways.

The next thing on the agenda was Tortuga. If the Black Pearl and her crew were to be found, it would be at that island.

It had to be.

****
Run.

Run.

Do not stop.

His skin was cold, but his insides were fire. The rain had not ceased its intensity, and so bare feet were covered in mud. There was yelling, threatening, but he could barely hear.

He did not even realize he was stumbling until he landed on the wet ground. His mind demanded he get up, but his body would not have it.

The first blow was to his side, making him curl into a fetal position. The next was to his head. Stomach. Anywhere. Everywhere. He could vaguely comprehend their orders; it was all a haze.

The beating finally ended when he discovered himself on his feet once again. As he commenced running, Daniels loomed behind him and snapped the whip at his raw back several times. Jack winced and bit his lip, but he did not give in to the grueling fatigue.

His head was bleeding. His nose was fractured. His ribs were bruised. His legs felt detached. But he pushed on.

He endured to survive.

Part Four: "A Tragic Loss"

****
“Separate the ones that fell from the rest and keep them out here. Put the others back.”

Wilson and Newton heeded the order from Garner hurriedly. They pulled five men total from the group and shuffled everyone else inside.

The rain had increased its viciousness. It was a torrential curtain of water from the angry clouds above. The captives were shivering violently and awaited whatever fate they were to be dealt.

Jack glanced from side to side to discern who else was with him. There was not a familiar face that he found.

“Strip down and give your clothes to Hansen,” Garner shouted.

They had taken practically everything that he had had when he arrived, leaving him with only his shirt and trousers like most of the others. He was unwilling to part with the drenched garments, but he had no choice. With quaking hands, he removed his garb and passed it along to Hansen. He hugged himself tightly as he trembled incessantly. It was a magnificent feeling to be washed away of the dirt, blood, and humiliation. But his frigid form constantly reminded him of the jarring situation, and the degradation returned as Garner, Hansen, Daniels, and Carter paced about in front of the line and examined the naked men.

“You cannot sit, always stand. The amount of time you spend out here is determined by how well you all cooperate. If one of you collapses, no one is to help him. Both will be punished,” Garner commanded.

Jack breathed unevenly and closed his eyes. He felt nauseous.

The minutes ticked by at a wretched pace. By his clock, they had been standing in the rain and muck for an hour or so.

“I can’t anymore,” the male beside him huffed almost inaudibly.
Jack turned his head and watched him totter. “You can do it, mate,” he assured in a shaking voice. “Surely just a little longer until we can go inside.”
“No. No. I ca-”

The man started to drop, but Jack caught him before he landed on the muddy ground. Carter was in front of him before he knew it.

“What did Garner say?” the soldier spat vehemently.
“I thought-”

He was silenced by a powerful slap. The unconscious form in his arms was tossed to the side as Carter grabbed Jack’s wrist and speedily led him from the group.

Daniels joined Carter, and they pulled Jack to a tall, wooden post. There were shackles attached to it that hung down; Jack’s wrists were hoisted up above his head and cuffed in them.

“At least he’s one of the better lookin’ ones,” Daniels voiced. “Who’s first, boys?”
“I am.”

Garner stepped behind Jack and undid his trousers. “Don’t defy an order again,” he hissed into the pirate’s ear.

He penetrated Jack roughly, creating a strangled yelp to come from the rogue. Garner thrust relentlessly within him as he held Jack’s hips firmly.

The sound of the rain drifted away. The ugly grunts from behind vanished. Jack could only hear the aching thump of his heart and the shameful whimpers he emitted. The cool droplets of water from the sky disguised his own as they leaked from his sorrowful brown eyes.

He felt Garner ejaculate inside him and pull away. Someone took his place.

The mortification intensified as the three others defiled him. The last left him horribly sore and utterly weak.

The prisoners in line were taken into the building, however Jack was trapped at the pole.

It was two days before he was released from the shackles. His limp, dehydrated being was carried to his cell and flung to the floor.

****
It was never a good thing to be near the surgeon’s lair.

Jack was hauled into the room for his second visit.

He sat on the table – unable to move from being held by Wilson, Daniels, Carter, and Newton – and quaked from the fear of what would be the outcome.

“Wonder what he’ll do this time,” Daniels said bitterly as he brushed Jack’s hair behind his shoulders.

Jack flinched at the touch, but remained sedated. Lips ghosted over his cheek and jaw. He shut his eyes and soon it was gone.

Johnson had entered.

“You want him strapped down?” Carter asked.
“No. He can sit up,” Johnson answered with a completely serious face. “I don’t feel like using the straps today.”
“Do you need all of us then?” Wilson questioned.
“Most likely.”

The “Devils Doctor” went to the darkened side of the area and shifted objects about. As he did so, he instructed, “Might as well take his clothes off now.”

It was something the soldiers took pleasure in doing. In mere seconds Jack was nude, and he detested the hungry expressions of the men surrounding him.

When Johnson entered the lighted space once more, he wore an apron and a handkerchief over his nose and mouth. Jack stared at him with wide, terrified eyes. There was only one tool lying on the tray, a large one, and he refused to contemplate what was to come.

“Carter and Wilson – keep hold of his arms and torso,” Johnson stated. “Newton and Daniels – keep hold of the legs.” He paused before adding, “Especially the right.”

Jack could not hold it in a minute more. He burst into tears. He knew now what the surgeon was planning.

Johnson took the jagged amputation saw in his hand and positioned the blade a few inches above the middle of Jack’s right thigh. The pirate attempted to thrash about, yet the grips on him were too strong.

There was no warning. Johnson pressed the saw against the skin and moved it forward. Jack yelled boisterously. The instrument was drawn back, leisurely beginning its journey through the leg.

“Seems a bit blunt,” Johnson muttered. “It will take quite a bit longer.”

Blood spurted from the wound and sprayed the apron and cloth covering Johnson’s visage. He paid no attention to it.

Jack screamed as loudly as he could and squirmed beneath the men’s hands. He watched the saw ripping into his flesh for a brief moment, the sight producing vomit in his mouth. He swallowed it down and turned his head.

The agonizing wails morphed into rasping whimpers and moans. Those became incoherent mumbles as his mind blacked out every few minutes. He could not form a thought anymore. His mind shut down. Agony engulfed him.

After an hour of sawing away at Jack’s leg, the bloodied limb was removed entirely and placed on the tray. The surgeon’s tool followed, and Johnson admired his work.

“Not too bad. Just need to bandage it up and whatnot. I could use a rum after. How about you boys?”

Jack’s head slumped back and he passed out.