(no subject)
The only time in my life where I was absolutely bereft of money was in Tortuga. I was not bankrupt- my inheritance and much of my personal fortune rests in England- but I had no access to those funds, and out of remorse for my actions, I refused to accept the half-pay owed to me as an inactive officer. Thus whatever money I had on my person I gambled away within weeks of my arrival in Tortuga.
To make back money after my initial loss of funds, I continued to gamble- I developed quite a talent for cards and dice games. In my more sober moments, I was astute enough to pick upon those who were drunk enough to play poorly. Sometimes I might challenge another patron to a fight for money, and I often profited well out of that, again by picking men who were often too drunk to put up a real fight.
Of course, the money I earned inevitably went towards drink- the only true winners in Tortuga are the proprietors of the taverns, for they ultimately end up with those winnings from the fights and the card games in their possession whether it is through the rum bought or the whores who use the establishments as their place of work. My poverty was not a concern to me at the time; I had far greater matters weighing on my conscience that the squalor seemed sufficient punishment. However, to make money by picking on those at their weakest was not a proud moment for me, and I hope that I never find myself penniless again.
I have devoted most of my working life to upholding the law. If you had asked me this some years ago, I might have said that it is absolutely not permissible to break the law in any circumstances, no matter how dire. My viewpoint for a time was very firm on that. There are times when I still feel that way, though they have been significantly fewer since my return to Port Royal.
To answer the question? I....I am not certain. I believe strongly that one’s conscience plays a part in that decision. If there’s a situation where I have to stop and consider whether my own personal code of ethics is being breached by the action I might take, then I might have to look the other way, as it were. I also think that the decision to break the law should not be taken lightly. For me, there would have to be no other way of achieving the goal in sight. All options should be exhausted.
I spent a good part of the week attempting to answer this question and still a definite answer alludes me. This is perhaps a continuing dilemma for me, as I strive to maintain a balance between upholding my duties to uphold the law and what I know in my heart to be right.
I hope that my redemption is possible, but I do not expect it. I feel remorse for the pain I've caused, the deaths that happened as a consequence of my foolishness. My remorse alone will not warrant forgiveness however, and so I will spend the rest of my life in atonement.
In short, I believe that redemption is possible for those who feel guilt and remorse and want to make amends for what wrongs they committed in the past, regardless of how heinous those crimes were. That is what makes redemption possible, remorse and the desire to undo one's sins. That is why criminals facing execution are visited by a priest before they die, so that if they truly feel remorse, they can confess and repent. The ones who are beyond redemption are the ones who feel no guilt whatsoever, who will not apologise for their misdeeds.
I have had to rethink my perceptions of right and wrong over the years. I've found that even those who appear to live for creating chaos and trouble can have some scrap of goodness, however miniscule it is. It comes in the crucial moments, and that goodness is what leads to the possibility of redemption.