Allegiance, Chapter 17
Aboard the Vengeance, at sea
by
Full headers in Chapter 1
Disclaimer: The Mouse owns them, but I take them out and play with them. No money involved. All for fun.
Disclaimer: The Mouse owns them, but I take them out and play with them. No money involved. All for fun.
Will Turner prowled his quarterdeck, brooding. From time to time he went to the rail to watch the repairs in progress aboard the Trident, hove to a short distance downwind. The Vengeance and the Devil's Lass had caught up with her—listing, rudderless, and with her rigging in a pitiable state—several hours after the battle. The men laboured now—a full day later—to jury-rig a rudder. They had patched the worst of the holes in her hull already; what remained could be handled by the pumps until they reached a safe port.
The rigging of all three ships had suffered, though none so much as the Trident, and every man not working on the rudder was knotting and splicing as if their lives depended upon it, which, of course, they did. They had replaced the foretopmast on the Vengeance this morning.
There had been no immediate pursuit. Indeed, Will had expected none, although he'd doubled the watch, to be safe. The Navy—and that fucking turncoat Sparrow—were no doubt even now safe in George Town Harbour, celebrating and taking their sweet time refitting.
Will ground his teeth. He hated to think of it. He'd hurt them yesterday, but not nearly so badly as they had hurt him. The Gryphon captured, the Trident rendered all but useless—oh, the score against Jack Sparrow was growing great indeed. For, Will knew full well, Sparrow's treachery had been the deciding factor in the battle. When the Black Pearl and that hellish little brig had joined the fight on the side of the Navy, their victory was assured.
Let them celebrate, Will thought. His was still a force to be reckoned with. After all, hadn't he sunk one of their ships, dismasted another, and come within mere hours of taking Fort George? He would strike them again and again; he would not give up until Sparrow was dead, the Pearl was his and—why not?—the Navy fleet was destroyed.
Will sent across to hurry the work on the Trident. "Tell them we sail tomorrow, with or without her," he said.
"To Tortuga, Captain?" his quartermaster asked.
"No, it's too far," Will shook his head. "We'll refit at Montego Bay."
"Aye, sir."
Alone again, he looked to where Grand Cayman lay just below the horizon in the northeast. "Before you expect me, I will be back, Sparrow," Will whispered, "And then you will die."
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