The Map

Usual Disclaimer:

Many, many, many thanks to Dixie for all her hard work in Beta reading this. And remaining mistakes are all my own!

Also thanks to Robyn Maddison, who I should have credited last chapter! Thanks for helping a land lubber a bit more sea worthy.

This chapter is divided into two chapters for length and also content… which hopefully will become clearer upon reading.
This chapter takes place in the same time frame as the last chapter. Hope you enjoy it…..

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Beaumont was beginning to get extremely frustrated with then ofn of events. First the Black Pearl had come to the aid of the Ardent, which completely took him by surprise. He had expected him to make for La Romana with all speed, not turning to aid another ship that wasn’t even a pirate vessel.
This left him with the decided notion that in firing upon the Ardent, he had made a grave tactical error. Not only had his ship taken damage, but he now had to waylay slightly to make repairs.
He hissed under his breath as he thought ofwn, wn, the Master of the Ship who was now lying at the bottom of the sea with a pistol shot through his heart.
If he’d so much as even begun to imagine the idiot would not only intercept the Ardent, but then tattle about the Rose, he’d have never appointed the idiot in the first place. He wished now he’d taken over as Captain at Plymouth but he had decided to stay in his cabin with Tristan and play the passenger and now he was paying for that.
But he’d had no choice when it came to the Ardent; he couldn’t afford word getting back to Port Royal that it had been the Black Pearl who had attacked the Rose and taken Lady Davenport. Beaumont knew there were several pirate ships that roamed these waters and he had been hoping that the time it took for the Navy to work out who took her would delay them long enough for him to catch up with the Pearl.
But he hadn’t bargained on the Pearl interfering with the Ardent. An oversight on his part; he didn’t like making oversights and he certainly didn’t like things going wrong.
And going wrong is what they were doing, and had been doing since that ungrateful brat, Nell, had left the convent.
That had been something that he had never seen coming. He had given over so much of his money to that dratted place to keep her there and allow him to see her once a year, but it had all been to no avail when he’d received the message that she had run away.
Fortunately for him, Tristan had been staying with him at his estate in Cornwall and it had taken them literally hours to determine where she had gone. He had always been under the impression that Nell was fairly bright, but when he’d discovered she’d left, not only in her convent clothes, but that she’d been seen regularly in them, giving them a clear path to trace her to the Port of Plymouth, he’d had to re-evaluate that notion.
Unless, of course, she had no idea that he would follow her. Which naturally led to him surmising that she hadn’t known the significance of the chart tattooed onto her back.
Either way he could quite easily and probably would strangle the girl when he caught up with her.
But her being on the Pearl put a whole new slant on things. He hadn’t mentioned to Tristan how Jack Sparrow was probably the one pirate that he really, really wished he didn’t have to pit his wits against.
He sat forward in his chair, leaning over the chart of the Windward Islands. He rested his arms on the chart; his hands clasped together, his eyes closed.
Jack Sparrow. Why did it have to be Jack Sparrow?
Jack Sparrow was like every other pirate except for one major detail.
He was unique. He sailed under no flags but his own, and in the time that Beaumont had kept as close an eye on the Caribbean as he could in England, he had heard enough stories to know the man was completely and utterly mad. This meant he was unpredictable, and unpredictable men, in his experience, were the most dangerous of the lot.
If it were any other pirate that had Nell, he could guarantee that she’d be dead now and the chart copied several times and stowed away safely.
But Sparrow? For one thing, he was fairly confident that Nell would still be alive and well and able to talk, unfortunately. So he could guarantee that just by Nell telling Sparrow his name he’d know exactly what the chart on her back was. He could only hope that the chart would be too confusing for him to work out the true whereabouts of the treasure. But then Sparrow had known how to sail to Laa dea de Muerta, and if he knew how to get there it shouldn’t be too hard for him to work out the chart.
Beaumont could well do without being reminded that without that chart he couldn’t find his way back to the island either. It had been such a complicated journey they had to take to keep the treasure safely from the Spanish hands, and they’d almost lost their own lives making sure it was hidden.
He wondered if they left it too long. Maybe they should have come to re-claim the treasure, long ago. But he had wanted the passage of time, needed it even. He knew that every pirate ship in the ocean had been after him, especially when he became a turncoat. But he had orchestrated his and Tristan’s death well; at least five ships saw the Dormant sink with all hands, supposedly with them aboard.
But now Sparrow would be aware that he was far from dead, and in that, he had lost the element of surprise.
Attacking the Pearl would be almost certainly suicide, and he knew it, but he had no other options open to him. He would have to catch up with her first, and then he’d have to try and attack under the cover of darkness, which would be nigh on impossible since the very colour of the ship would make it highly difficult to see, let alone attack.
But he couldn’t attack in daylight as Sparrow knew his ship and, therefore, the element of surprise they have used on the Ardent was gone.
And there was the matter of the Pearl flying the red flag when it had come to the Ardent’s aid. Now that had surprised him to some extent. Sparrow had been clearly intending to battle them with the intent of taking no survivors. And that was why Sparrow was so dangerous: he was unpredictable. Why would a pirate notorious for killing only in defence, be prepared to lose time to battle with no mercy and kill every sailor aboard? Surely he would be heading to port to pick up supplies, ready for however long it took him to discover the island’s whereabouts. Unless he was fully stocked, which he knew he can’t have been. He was too far out when he attacked the Rose.
The door to his cabin opened but he didn’t look up, he knew it was Tristan. No one else would dare to enter without knocking and waiting for a reply from him.
“James. We’ve put to anchor in the bay, but we’ve company.”
Beaumont lifted his head and looked at Tristan, he arched one eyebrow at him.
“There’s a Naval ship heading straight for us.”
Beaumont let his eyes close as he rested his forehead on the table, bringing his hands through his dark hair.
“That’s all we need. A bloody red-coat sticking his great nose in,” his voice was muffled by the chart but Tristan could hear the anger and weariness mixed together. He reached out and placed his hand on his shoulder before heading to slump down in the seat opposite.
“We could work this to our advantage. If we convince the commanding officer to let us come aboard with a few of our crew, and then convince him to go after the Pearl… The dangling carrot of capturing Sparrow should be enough to convince any officer of being able to obtain a promotion.”
“And if the said officer isn’t promotion orientated?” Beaumont lifted his head to look at Tristan.
“Of course he will be. Especially if the Black Pearl is the carrot being dangled.”
“And then, once we’re aboard we do what? Take over his ship, which will be armed to the rails with rifle toting red-coats?” Beaumont couldn’t help the sarcasm that slipped into his voice.
Tristan narrowed his eyes at him and sat straight-backed in the chair.
“Yes. We do just that.”
“Do you have any idea how many men will be aboard that ship? We couldn’t take her if we had all our crew on board, which he will certainly not allow. We wouldn’t have the element of surprise we would need to carry it off.”
Tristan glared at Beaumont and leaned forward across the table at him.
“Well, what do we do then? Let Sparrow get away with that brat and our gold?”
Beaumont felt anger shoot through him and he leaned across, their faces almost touching as he growled at him.
“With nothing but a half cooked plan like yours? Yes.” Beaumont regretted the words the moment they left his mouth and it showed on his face.
“No. Damn it!” Tristan jerked backwards and pulled his hand through his hair in frustration “We won’t let this come between us. We need to work together on this, James, or we can kiss goodbye to our gold.”
Beaumont sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, his usual composure gone.
“We could always try and take the ship here,” Tristan said slowly. “If we have about half of the men put overboard on the Port side, and no sharks come nosing around, we should then have about fifty men waiting below the ship, unknown to the Navy.”
Beaumont eyed him and brightened.
“Now, that’s more like it,” he stated. “Tell them the other half were lost in the attack…how long before she reaches us?”
“About half an hour.”
“Then let’s get this worked out with the crew. We can’t have them seeing anything suspicious.”
He stood up and Tristan followed suit. Beaumont smiled at him and came round to clap him on the back.
“I think if we’re careful, we may have our element of surprise back again.”

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Norrington and Bryant, with four armed soldiers crossed to the damaged merchant ship, Heron’s Reach.
He had ten soldiers above deck that were armed and he had twenty more below decks that were armed. With four of the Navy’s fleet out at sea, he was sailing with only a third of his usual armed force and this made him uncomfortable.
But what was making him more uncomfortable was the two men stood side-by-side, waiting to greet him. One of them, obviously the Captain, judging by the wig he wore, was tall and thin with a long straight nose and glacial eyes. Very few men were able to faze Norrington without even opening their mouths, but this man came close to doing just that.
The man stood next to him wasn’t much better. Shorter by at least a head, he was more solidly built and gave off an air of restrained strength. His dark hair was uncovered and longer, tied back behind his head with a black ribbon.
Both wore the clothes of gentlemen and they carried it off with style, telling Norrington that these men were every inch the gentleman they purported to be.
“Lieutenant! We are so glad to see you!” The taller man stepped forward and extended his hand to help Norrington down onto the deck. Out of propriety, Norrington accepted the proffered hand and jumped down gracefully.
“It’s Commodore. Commodore Norrington. We see you have come under attack,” Norrington came straight to the point as Bryant jumped down next to him and waited quietly.
Beaumont sighed heavily and nodded, sweeping his arms out wide to indicate his depleted crew and battered ship.
“My apologies, Commodore. We were set upon by pirates, earlier this morning. They boarded us and kidnapped one of our passengers, a person very dear to me: my ward, Helen Montilice.” His voice held a note of raw grief mixed with anger.
“Do you have any idea who they were?” Norrington asked slowly.
“I do not. We could see no name but she had black sails and black wood. She was too fast for us.” He lowered his head, staring at the deck for a few seconds before looking back at Norrington.
“Please sir, we beg of you, allow us to board your ship and make haste after her. I must get my ward back. When I think what she could be going through…” he turned half away and Tristan laid his hand upon his arm whispering to him.
Beaumont turned back again, his composure replaced and the ‘stiff-upper lip’ firmly back in place.
Norrington didn’t allow anything to show on his face, although he felt the definite leap of disgust in his stomach at the thought of Sparrow.
“Black sails you say?” he narrowed his eyes “Sounds like the Black Pearl,” he said no more and waited for the other man to continue.
“Will you help us sir? We beg you,” Beaumont blinked earnestly at him.
“How many men do you have left?” asked Norrington.
“We lost just over half, but I fear if we have to stay to make repairs we will loose valuable time in catching the at at La Romana.”
“You think she’s headed there?”
“From studying the charts of this area, La Romana would be the closest port if he wishes to ransom Miss Montilice,” Tristan replied carefully.
Norrington drew his eyebrows together and nodded slowly. It just didn’t add up. What on earth was Sparrow doing ransoming females: that just wasn’t his style. This just didn’t sit right with him.
“La Romana is the only port close by that he would be safe docking at. May I inquire of your names?”
Beaumont looked bashful and half bowed to him indicating Tristan.
“I am so sorry Commodore. This is my good friend and confidant Mr Harold Austin and I am Sir Arthur Boyden, at your service.” Tristan executed a half bow at the Commodore.
Norrington made a decision to take them aboard the Relentless. He felt uncomfortable with the situation, but knew he couldn’t very well leave them stranded out here.
“Sir Boyden. If you please.” Norrington indicated the plank adjoining the two ships with a sweep of his arm. He cast a sideways glance at Bryant and lifted one eyebrow very slightly. But it was enough for his first Lieutenant to catch and understand.
Bryant kept a careful watch on the remaining crew members that were still making repairs.
“The crew seem mostly fit,” Bryant said, finally and looked at Norrington. “They could complete repairs and then head for Port Royal, while we head for La Romana.”
Norrington nodded and watched as the two men climbed across on to the Relentless.
Norrington and Bryant followed with their four soldiers bringing up the rear.
“Excellent idea, Mr Bryant,” Norrington said as he jumped down onto the deck of the Relentless. Beaumont and Tristan were stood to one side watching their ship.
Norrington saw a movement out of the corner of his eye but it was too late to do anything but mentally kick himself for being so remise. Cold steel was pressed to his neck as he was hauled back against a wet sailor.
He turned his head as he cried out a warning to Bryant, but he saw he was in much the same position. Frustration and hot anger flowed through him as he realised he’d been tricked. Obviously his first impressions had been correct in this instant.
Beaumont moved to step forward but he was instantly surrounded by armed soldiers pointing riffles at him in response to their Commodore being held captive.
“Call your men down, Commodore, and no blood will be spilt. You have my word,” Beaumont called out, his voice cold and firm.
Norrington swallowed and felt the dagger nick his neck. The arm around his chest was bone crushing as he surveyed the situation with the calmness of a military man.
He could see more sailors from the Heron’s Reach climbing aboard and it didn’t take him long to realise he was seriously outnumbered. He looked across at Beaumont and narrowed his eyes.
“What is your word worth, Pirate?” he inquired coldly, the movement of his throat as he spoke causing the dagger to cut deeper.
“Joe. Ease up on the good Commodore or he won’t live to see his next promotion,” laughed Tristan, and Joe: the burly sailor holding Norrington eased the dagger slightly away from his throat.
“My word is good. I have no argument with you, Commodore. I just require the use of your ship for the duration.” Beaumont smiled at him but it didn’t reach his eyes. He held out his hands to the soldiers surrounding him.
“Duration of what?” inquired Norrington. His voice hard and his eyes narrowed at the older man.
“Why, the duration of time that I need it, of course,” laughed Beaumont as he eyed the closest bayonet pointing at him.
“Commodore, you strike me as being a reasonable sort of man and I’m sure you realise that, as things go, there are two outcomes. We will both die, and nothing can be achieved by that, at all. Or I can order my men to disarm your crew with no violence and have them locked up in your brig.” He drew a deep breath and smiled widely.
“You forgot the third option. Where my men disarm your men, tie them up and you are all transported back to Port Royal where you will be hung until dead. I much refer that outcome, personally.”
“Alas, not an option I can even contemplate. You forget one thing, Commodore. I am a desperate man and so is my friend, so we’re willing to risk our lives to defeat you… but are you willing to risk the lives of your men?” Beaumont lifted a finger slightly and Norrington heard a gasp of pain.
He looked in the direction of the noise and saw two sailors holding one of his soldiers. The soldier was on his knees and they had a pistol placed directly into the back of his neck.
It was a young lad, barely sixteen and on his first voyage since joining the Navy. He closed his eyes in defeat. He knew that this boy and all the men that joined were aware of the risks, but even so, dying in battle was one thing. But to die on your knees facing the deck with no dignity?
He opened his eyes and looked directly at his men holding Beaumont at rifle-point.
“Lay down your arms, men,” he ordered and was relived to see no hesitation at all as rifles were lowered. The Crew of the Heron seemed to swarm across the ship as they unarmed the soldiers and knocked them to their knees. The sailors of the Relentless were also banded together and had their hands tied behind their backs as they knelt on the deck.
Norrington watched as his men were tied and then hauled down below decks. His nose was white at the end telling of his fury at the situation. He ground his teeth together and glanced across at an equally furious looking Bryant.
Joe released him and the sudden movement had him sprawling to the deck on his hands and knees. He felt the pain in his knees as he tore the fabric of his trousers and cut his knees but he ignored it.
He looked up at Beaumont with hatred and cold fury etched onto his face as he got to his feet with as much dignity as he could muster. He would see the man hang for this if it was the last thing he did.
Beaumont laughed and stepped forward brushing at his long coat as if he had been dirtied by the whole situation.
“Now come, come Norrington. May I call you that?” he sneered at Norrington and carried on regardless. “We’re all men of the world here and I believe, as such, we can come to some arrangement, which will be mutually satisfying for all involved don’t you agree?”
“Most certainly not,” Norrington replied, tugging his own coat down and lifting his chin in proud arrogance and determination.
“Now, see, that was not the answer we required, was it Arthur?” Beaumont turned to Tristan and lifted an amused eyebrow at him. “However I’m afraid we really don’t have the time to stand here and discuss matters just yet. Joe! Bind the good Commodore and his lieutenant and escort them to…” he smiled showing even white teeth “my cabin, if you would.”
Norrington felt his arms tugged sharply backwards, pain shooting through his shoulders in protest at the foreign angle. Rope was bound around his wrists, almost cutting off his circulation and then Joe was running his hands over him searching for concealed weapons. His hat was knocked from his head and his wig dragged off, leaving his dark hair uncovered.
“Now that’s much better,” Tristan said lazily and stepped forward, taking the hat from Joe and plopping it upon his own head “How think you Harold?” he turned a full circle on his heel mocking Norrington as he placed his hands behind his back.
“I think it looks ridiculous,” Beaumont laughed “But infinitely better than it did on Norrington here.”
Beaumont turned away from the two men and looked at where his crew were coming back up on deck.
“Take us towards La Romana with all speed!” he hollered. “We have a pirate ship to catch and attack.”
The crew roared their approval and then rushed to get to their positions.
Norrington looked towards Beaumont, a look of contemplation in his eyes.
“So you really are after Sparrow?” he asked slowly.
Beaumont turned to him; all hints of amusement had fled from his face leaving stark cold hatred.
“Yes, we are and we intend to see him at the bottom of the sea before we are finished with him,” Beaumont replied coldly.
A sailor came running up to Beaumont, holding a spyglass. He muttered into Beaumont’s ear and a look of intense irritation flooded his face before he replied and then crossed to the bulwarks with the spyglass in his hand.
Joe shoved at Norrington’s back hard, and he only just kept his feet, annoyed that he couldn’t find out what had been said to that had irritated him so.
Bryant was shoved into step with him as they crossed the deck towards his cabin.
Joe swung the door open and shoved them both in. Norrington tripped on Bryant’s feet and ended up headfirst on the deck bringing Bryant down with him.
Joe laughed and slammed the door shut on him.
“Well, now, don’t you think that’s odd?” Came Bryant’s muffled voice from where his head was jammed into Norrington’s back.
“Please remove your head from my back, Bryant, instantly,” Norrington clipped, taking his anger out on Bryant.
“I would sir,” Bryant pointed out calmly “If you would just lift your arm a little, you’re pinning my neck with your elbow.”
Norrington shifted and they managed to part and use each other till they were sitting up, backs resting against each other.
“Why have they left us here on our own?” Bryant continued calmly “Do you have a dagger somewhere in here we could use to our aid?”
“I have one in my boot,” Norrington replied, glad he couldn’t see the surprise that Bryant definitely felt at hearing he had a dagger in his boot. “And you make any mention of pirates and I’ll be gutting you with it. Understand?”
“Perfectly sir,” Bryant replied but Norrington could hear the smug tone quite clearly.
“I don’t think freeing ourselves will benefit us in any way yet, Mr Bryant.” Norrington chose to ignore his lieutenant “While we display no signs of aggression towards Boyden, he may well be inclined to disclose more of his plans.”
Bryant nodded and shifted slightly leaning heavily on Norrington.
“I don’t know what Sparrow is playing at this time,” he confessed to Norrington. “Doesn’t seem much like his usual game at all.”
“A thought that has struck me also. Time will tell us what he intends and also what Boyden is up to.”
“Imagine if we caught Sparrow this time, sir.” Bryant was wiggling his wrists around against the tight bonds.
“I am imagining that happy thought Bryant. But if you don’t stop digging your wrists into my back you’ll be hanging beside him.”
Bryant desisted from wiggling and apologised softly.
“I rather feel that all that is left for us at this present time is to wait,” Norrington mused, half to himself. He wasrly rly confident that Beaumont was going to sail after the Pearl and Sparrow, but he wasn’t so sure that the ward he had told them of even existed.
But what would he want with Sparrow then? Unless Sparrow had finally plundered one too many merchant ships and had finally found his match. Maybe he could sit back and watch the pair of them blow each other to kingdom come. Now that would be a happy thought, but for one thing: it was his ship that Beaumont had commandeered. Having lost one ship to Sparrow, he really didn’t relish the thought of losing two. He was distracted from his thoughts by a sudden commotion outside the cabin and he strained to hear. It sounded like a high pitched keening noise, as if someone was in great pain. He could also hear a raised voice giving terse orders.
Intrigued he shuffled forward till he could get his eye to the lock of the cabin door.
“What can you see sir?” asked Bryant from right behind him.
Norrington was able to make out very little of the deck but he could see a crowd of sailors gathered around what looked like someone lying on the deck.
“Looks like someone on the deck,” he murmured, squinting through the keyhole. He saw Beaumont send the crew back to their work and then he knelt next to the body.
He lifted the man slightly and Norrington was able to get a good look at the man.
“Good God!” Norrington hissed.
“What is it, Sir?” Bryant had lifted himself up to try and look through the frosted glass of the windows, but all he could make out were vague shapes and no details.
“He’s been given Moses Law by the looks of his back.”
“Boyden has flogged someone?” asked Bryant in surprise.
“No, I don’t think it was Boyden. The blood is too clotted and the man is half dead. Boyden is trying to get him to talk I think.”
“Who did it then?”
“I don’t think who is the relevant question. I think ‘Why’ is more to the point,” Norrington spoke half to himself as he watched Beaumont press a wet cloth to the man’s lips. He wished he could hear what was being said, but he was too far. He was fairly certain this was what had irritated Beaumont on deck; one of the sailors must have spotted the man on the beach and informed him about it. It would be a delay in his plans to chase the Pearl if he sent a boat to retrieve the man, but he had obviously thought it important enough to do just so. This told Norrington that Beaumont thought this had something to do with Sparrow, which, in turn, would mean that the man who was half dead had been flogged by Sparrow or his first mate.
Norrington frowned, leaning back from the keyhole before leaning forward again. He watched as Beaumont obviously heard all he needed to hear. He stood up and said something to the sailor called Joe. Norrington’s eyes widened as he realised what he had told Joe to do.
“They’re going to shoot him,” he said aloud just as the pistol shot rang out, loud enough to be heard inside the cabin.
He sat back away from the door and looked at Bryant’s surprised face.
“Was he that far gone?” he asked “Couldn’t he be saved?”
Norrington frowned and shook his head at Bryant.
“I don’t think that even crossed Boyden’s mind. He wanted to know what had happened and then when he found out…”
“A tad cold blooded or a mercy killing?” Bryant wondered aloud.
“I have a feeling Boydan isn’t the merciful type. The man obviously told him all he needed to know. He won’t get away with this!” Norrington fumed, his face hardened, and his lips became one thin line.
He could feel the blood starting to clot around his neck and anger filled him. He wouldn’t rest till they were all hanging by their necks.

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A/N: I’ve ended this chapter here to make a more easy break in subjects as they next chapter goes back to where Jack was carrying Nell to his cabin…. Hope you enjoy it.