"Stop—stop at once!"
Davy Jones screamed in terror and ordered every crewman to cease fighting.
He recoiled in horror, as though what Fang Yuan held was some monstrous beast.
It was his own heart, yet to Jones it was an unspeakable filth.
For if that heart were pierced, Davy Jones would die with it.
And whoever killed it would become the new Captain of The Flying Dutchman.
If Davy Jones wished to live, he could only be Fang Yuan's dog.
Just as, in the story, he had been Becket's dog.
Speaking of Becket—how could such a lively pirate war possibly escape his notice?
What?
How did Becket know a battle would erupt here?
It was all thanks to his capable subordinate, Commodore Norrington.
"Using the folk of every island along the route as lookouts did indeed reveal pirate tracks." On the steady deck of Effort, Becket sat gracefully, coffee in hand. "Commodore Norrington, truly outstanding!"
Becket was more than satisfied; ever since Norrington had entered his service, he felt life become effortless—naval matters were arranged flawlessly and with striking results.
By now six warships, large and small, had gathered around Effort, concentrating every Royal Navy hull within the Caribbean Sea.
Even the smallest of them outsized the Black Pearl by a fair margin; though few, their quality granted overwhelming superiority.
"Time was short; we could only muster ships in adjacent waters. Had we assembled forces from farther afield, every pirate on the globe could have been swept away!" Norrington said gravely.
"You mean to set off a final, all-out war between navy and pirates?"
Becket's eyes flashed, clearly tempted.
But in the end he shook his head. "The navy has weightier missions; gathering all our might just to exterminate pirates would be using cannon to swat flies—more loss than gain."
Norrington was not discouraged; just as Fang Yuan had instructed, he needed only to plant a seed in Becket's mind.
"Then let us begin with this battle."
Becket smiled as he watched the distant clash between The Flying Dutchman and the Black Emperor Pirates. Thanks to its self-repair and the Kraken's aid, The Flying Dutchman had already sunk two of the Black Emperor's ships.
Becket promptly ordered, "We must seize this rare chance of their civil strife and wipe them out in one swoop!"
"Aye!"
Commodore Norrington shouted, then signaled command flags from Effort.
"Charge!"
Becket sipped his coffee with delight, privately praising how comfortable life was with a helper like Norrington.
But his smile soon froze on his face.
Halfway through the Royal Navy's rush, the battlefield between the Black Emperor Pirates and The Flying Dutchman suddenly fell silent.
"What's happening?" Becket leapt up and asked urgently.
"Lord Becket, The Flying Dutchman has turned about and is charging straight at us!" Alarm was written across Norrington's face.
Becket sensed trouble at once. They had all witnessed the Dutchman's might; The Jackdaw, a First-rate Ship-of-the-Line, had blown her apart seven or eight times, yet she repaired each time. Even the Royal Navy could do nothing about such regeneration.
They could win the fight, but the enemy's rapid healing meant only pointless losses on their side.
"Can we withdraw?" Becket asked hurriedly.
He had no wish to butt heads with The Flying Dutchman. Becket, too, was searching for the heart; finding it would let him make Jones his dog, so a temporary retreat now was perfectly acceptable.
"Too late; a forced retreat would leave us sitting ducks and cost us dearly!" Norrington shook his head, looking troubled.
Inwardly, however—"I did it on purpose; push this hard or the Royal Navy would never enter the fight," Norrington thought.
He did not worry for his own safety in the least.
He knew Fang Yuan's plan: none of these warships would escape, but Effort would be spared so that, after this crushing defeat, the navy would mass its strength for revenge, further swelling the Black Emperor Pirates' fame.
Norrington could not fathom why Fang Yuan coveted fame so much while caring little for gold—the Black Emperor Pirates paid their crews far more generously than other bands.
Still, it suited him well; in this single year under Fang Yuan he had earned more than he could have in a lifetime before.
"Fire—fire!"
"Crush them!"
On The Flying Dutchman's deck Davy Jones roared himself hoarse.
It was not that, now leashed, he wished to show off to a new master.
He simply had nowhere else to vent his fury.
Once the undisputed sovereign of the seas, he had been reduced to a lackey—and forced to lift the curse on that traitor Bill Turner to boot.
Choked with resentment, Jones could only unleash all his rage upon the navy.
Thus the Royal Navy met with a World of pain.
The Flying Dutchman is like the Wolverine of warships—its firepower is only average compared to a man-of-war, but it simply refuses to die. What would be fatal damage to any other vessel is nothing more than a quick dive underwater for the Dutchman; it's the ultimate cheat.
Meanwhile, the Dutchman's guns, while laughably inaccurate, deal real damage on the rare occasions they hit, piling pressure on the Navy's formation.
Worse, Fang Yuan is still directing the remaining seven pirate ships—including The Jackdaw—in a full-tilt charge at the Navy.
The Jackdaw is a First-rate Ship-of-the-Line, and under Fang Yuan's command it might as well have precision guidance; two broadsides and the lead Navy warship was dead in the water.
"What do we do, what do we do?" Becket floundered.
Outwardly he showed little alarm, but inside he was utterly lost.
He was used to steam-rolling opponents; when it came to a straight-up knife fight with pirates he was helpless.
"Return fire—return fire!"
Norrington's shout snapped Becket back. Seeing the Commodore still urgent but unruffled, Becket felt a surge of relief.
"Thank heavens for the Commodore!" he told himself.
But Becket, no tactician, missed the point: Norrington was still issuing orders, yet the overall picture never changed; instead he scattered their line, giving the pirates the chance to pick them off one by one.
When your own Commander is the enemy's inside man, the battle is lost before it begins.
If things continued like this, the Navy's only option would be a headlong rout—who escaped would depend entirely on Fang Yuan's mood.
But the sea, after all, is ever changeable.
Even as Davy Jones vented his fury on the Navy, a sudden mist swept across his vision; in the blink of an eye he stood in his true form once more.
"Calypso!"
Jones thrilled—he could feel his lover's presence again.
"Do you still love me, Jones?" Calypso asked.
"Of course," Davy Jones answered without hesitation.
"And I still love you, Davy Jones."
Her words set his heart racing, only to plunge it into fresh grief.
"Then why didn't you come that day?" Jones cried.
A gentle breeze brushed his face; it felt like Calypso caressing him.
"My nature is changeable; the sea is ever shifting," Calypso replied. "If I were not so, would you still love me?"
Davy Jones fell silent.
"But we still have a chance!" Calypso went on. "We can be together again."
"Yet someone now stands between us—sealing me within a mortal body and stealing your heart!"
Jones grew even quieter; Calypso did not know that the very man who had told the pirates how to bind her was the one she now tried to manipulate.
"I have severed the bond between you and your heart!" Calypso declared, and Jones's eyes lit up.
"Go—crush those who dare defy the sea!" Her voice turned shrill.
A breeze enveloped Davy Jones entirely.
"Go," Calypso commanded, "so that we may both break our seals and be reunited!"
Though sealed, Calypso could still wield some power—she had once resurrected Barbossa in the tale; now, with a gesture, she restored Davy Jones's freedom.
The Octopus-Faced Man's small eyes snapped open; no longer feeling any threat from his heart, he grinned.
He had yet to decide whether to release Calypso at all.
After all, he himself had sealed the Sea-Goddess; should she learn the truth, their love might still be doomed.
Yet Davy Jones knew one thing—
"Fang Yuan!"
He spun round, glaring at The Jackdaw behind him that was using The Flying Dutchman as a shield.
Calypso was right—whoever dares provoke the sea must pay the price!
"Hard a-port—open fire on The Jackdaw!"
To Jones's delight, after speaking with Calypso he felt the Dutchman's guns grow stronger, even the wounds on his pet Kraken vanishing.
The Flying Dutchman's sudden about-face stunned the entire battlefield. Becket, standing on the prow, gaped in bewilderment at whatever scheme Davy Jones was hatching, while Fang Yuan's face darkened.
He called over a Brainwashed Black Crewman and had him drive a blade straight through Davy Jones's heart.
When a hound won't obey, you swap it for another.
Yet though the heart stopped beating, Davy Jones seemed entirely unfazed.
"Calypso!"
Fang Yuan clenched his teeth, instantly grasping the key.
To break her seal, the Sea-Goddess was pulling out all the stops.
Fang Yuan's mind raced, and a suitable back-up plan soon took shape.
He had studied under Batman—of course he kept a Plan B.
"Hoist the signal—every ship disengage! The Jackdaw will cover our withdrawal," Fang Yuan ordered.
With The Jackdaw's gunnery accuracy and armor, holding off both the Navy and The Flying Dutchman for a short while would be no problem.
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