pirate_jack | (no subject)

(no subject)

From here.

"Steady on, lad," Jack mutters, supporting Wellard as the two of them cross first the shore and then the floating pier to the Black Pearl.

They stop there, as Jack looks up the sea-ladder with a frown.

"Can you climb?"

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'My personal contact with the man has been mercifully brief,' Merriman replies, his mouth twisting as if contemplating an unpleasant taste. 'Most of what I do know has been collected over the course of letters and conversations with others -- in essence, Company gossip, which is about as accurate as any other kind. But I know enough to regard him as a man with the potential to do great harm, given the right set of circumstances.'

He'd seen the mark left by the Company's brand. He'd nearly delivered Jack Sparrow to the gallows himself, once. And if anything, what he has learned recently has only increased his determination to see history run its proper course and watch the British East India Company reap the consequences of its imperial hubris.

'Why do you ask?'

He shrugs, still staring over the water.

"Told you once there was no end to the man's ambition. Might be as you didn't really believe me, mate."

It's wearily said, and not a little grim.

"Knows more than you think he does, that one. Listens all the time. He's not the sort to care if it's a fancy story or not -- not if he can find a way to use it, aye?"

Slowly, he turns back to look at Merriman.

"If he's got Jones's heart, he's got more than you know. And as for me compass... well." Jack grins, a little. "More than one thing of value what could be found with it, savvy? Anything you want -- as long as you want it most."

'Ambition is what a man makes of it,' Merriman says, shaking his head a little. 'The difficulty truly arises when ambition is not tempered with, shall we say, a working moral compass.'

He lets out a breath, not quite a sigh. 'But what concerns me most is not the possibility that Beckett has control of the heart. That, I am almost regarding as a given fact, based on what you have told me and what I have been able to piece together from other sources. What concerns me most is the possibility that someone else has control -- or rather, leverage -- over Beckett.'

Black eyes are glittering with something unpleasant now.

"Someone what might be the sort that you'd take a professional interest in, aye?"

His narrowed eyes, and the precise tilt of his head, turn his expression into something almost predatory.

'Old battles, Captain Sparrow.'

It is said with a soft steely edge, like the echo of a sword being drawn.

'Very old battles indeed.'

"Ah."

There's an odd quietness to the single word, and more than a little tension around Jack Sparrow now.

"And young Wellard's caught up in the thick of it."

'Not for the first time, unfortunately.' The steely edge is still present in his voice, though its sharpness is dulled by a touch of weariness. 'It does not generally bode well for mortals who end up in the thick of it, as you put it.'

He is not only speaking of Henry Wellard, in this.

Jack throws him a sharp grin.

"Depends on the mortal, mate."

That prompts a definitely raised eyebrow.

'If you say so, Captain Sparrow. But nevertheless, you have the reasons for my concern in this matter.'

"One thing I'm wondering."

Jack brushes his hand over the compass that dangles still on its cord, looking pointedly at Merriman.

"I know what it is that's had Beckett interested in hunting me, savvy? And what's got Norrington involved in it all."

A beat.

"What's the reason for dragging the lad into it?"

Merriman's brow furrows in thought -- and then a flash of real alarm flickers across his face.

'...who else knows about the astrolabe?'

"Kennedy and Svava, not to mention meself," Jack replies promptly, but black eyes are glittering dangerously now.

"Can't say as I had reason to mention it to anyone else, savvy? But I gave it to the lad-- don't know who he's told--"

'I asked him about it when he first returned. He showed me that he had it still. But afterwards....' His eyes narrow. 'Operating on the assumption that nothing has happened to it, I believe that the astrolabe may have to be taken out of the bar for the time being, at least until this entire situation is settled.'

His gaze flicks out across the lake for a moment, looking towards the bar, before he looks back at Jack once more. 'You saw what happened when I took hold of it. Time has been affected enough as it stands, and further alteration could be...more than problematic, to put it lightly.'

"You couldn't touch it without a fit, and the lad's dead, mate," he points out. "Savvy? Not to mention me own self."

Black eyes are glittering even more wildly than before.

"Just what did you have in mind?"

'I can convey it to a place that is more secluded than this bar, where it can remain undisturbed and yet be brought back here if there happens to be a need for it. A place that has the additional bonus of being inaccessible to those of the Company, Davy Jones...and my opposite number.'

He spares the briefest of glances down at Jack's coat -- or rather, at the dirk concealed beneath it.

'Removing it from the scene, as it were. As a precaution.'

Jack watches him for a moment, then gives a single sharp nod.

"It'll be up to the lad, of course."

'Of course,' Merriman says, with a nod in return. 'And I will not ask him about it now. There would be no point in bringing it up until he has had more of a chance to recover. Though while we are on the subject....'

He looks over at the closed cabin door, then back at Jack. 'I would rather like to see Mister Wellard myself, just as a precautionary measure.' One eyebrow quirks, changing his facial expression from dour to droll. 'Care to brave the wrath of Miss Mary Lennox once again?'

"Surprised we haven't heard the lass shrieking bloody murder at him for getting himself hurt," Jack says, very dryly. "She's got a temper, that one."

"Come on, mate."

With that, Jack turns and saunters over to the cabin door.

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