Pirates: The One Where Lord Cutler Beckett Wins (& There's Romance)

Chapter 36

Hector Barbossa sat in the dimly lit confines of the Port Royal jail, flickering torchlight casting dancing shadows on the walls of his confined space. His weathered coat draped around him, reminding him of the years spent navigating treacherous seas and enduring the tempests of fate.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor, the heavy clank of boots against the stone floor signaling the arrival of the guards. Barbossa rose slowly, his gaze steady as the jail door creaked open, revealing the imposing figures of the guards.

"Barbossa," one of them said with an air of authority. "You're summoned to see Lady Beckett."

Without a word, Barbossa complied, a silent yet undeniable defiance shimmering in his eyes. The guards led him through the winding passages of the fortress, the echo of their steps reverberating against the stone walls as they ascended towards the upper levels.

They emerged into an opulent corridor adorned with intricate tapestries and the insignia of the East India Trading Company. Barbossa couldn't help but notice the contrast between the grandeur of Lord Beckett's domain and the confines of the jail.

Approaching the imposing doors to Lord Beckett's office, the guards halted, and Barbossa was left to enter alone. Stepping through the grand doors, Barbossa was met by the poised and calm presence of Catherine Beckett. Her form, though feminine, still commanded significant authority. As he scanned the room, his eyes noted the appearance of his journal that he had lost long ago.

"Captain Barbossa," she greeted him politely, yet with respect. "Take a seat if you like."

Barbossa continued to stand in defiance. Catherine did not appear to mind either way. "Well, well, Lady Beckett, ye and yer husband have a habit of pullin' a man from his dwellings. What's this, another attempt to strike a deal, or have ye come to offer me last words before the gallows?"

"Yes, your gallows appointment is in approximately one hour," she said nonchalantly, flipping through her notebook. She looked up at Barbossa and began to pour them some drinks – rum for him, and some Madeira wine for her. "Please, be at ease. This isn't a hostile meeting. Let's just have a chat."

"Last words and a chat with the executioner's wife. What a generous offer, Lady Beckett. But I reckon you're not one to waste time on pleasantries. So, spill it. What's the purpose of this cordial rendezvous before me neck meets the noose?"

As Catherine handed him his drink, she cleared her throat, poised for deep conversation. "What do you want, Captain Barbossa, in life? What is life all about for you?"

Barbossa, caught off guard, retorted, "Well, ye've got me journal, savvy? The desires be penned there already."

"I want you to say it out loud. Tell me what you truly want," Catherine stated firmly.

Reluctantly settling into a chair, Barbossa's voice carried the weight of years spent under the constraints of authority, his desire for autonomy palpable. "Freedom. Freedom to sail where I please, free from the chains of the Crown and the accursed codes. I desire my own command, to chart my course by the stars and answer to no one but meself. That be what I want, beyond all else."

"Your own command," she probed. "What would that look like exactly? And what does freedom look like to you, specifically?"

"Aye, a ship of me own, Catherine," Barbossa replied, his eyes glittering with the dreams of bygone adventures. "A vessel, not unlike the Black Pearl, with sails unfurled and a crew loyal to me."

Catherine nodded in appreciation as he continued, his voice carrying the weight of nostalgia and longing for the golden age of piracy. "As for freedom: Freedom, lass, be the wind in me sails and the open sea stretchin' as far as the eye can see. It be the ability to hoist me colors, to weigh anchor at me own will, to chase me own fortunes, and to chart a course free from the meddling of bureaucrats and rulers."