Transformation Catch Up: Parts 6-10
Am about to post the latest (ie. the eleventh) chapter of Transformation in about an hour - I know, I know it's been a long timecoming! It's been so long, in fact, that I'm sure a lot of people have forgotten what has happened so far, so here are parts 6-10 published together!
Title: Transformation
Summary: James Norrington chooses a different side: his own. (Chapters one to five - i.e. half the story so far)
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Mainly James Norrington and Elizabeth Swann
Disclaimer: Trust me, I'm making no money of off this, in the words of Phoebe Buffay, if I did: "Say I bought a really great pair of shoes with the money. Do you know what I'd hear with every step I took? 'Not-mine, not-mine, not-mine.' And even if I were happy, ok, and, and skipping, I'd hear 'notNOT-mine, notNOT-mine, notNOT-mine, notNOT-mine.."
Chapter Six
He had made his decision. They would go to the meeting point. He barked out the orders, and watched in satisfaction as his men scurried around, doing his bidding. It felt good to be in control of a ship of his own again. His mind wandered back to his plan. They would go. James would explain to Beckett that they had been forced to destroy Davy Jones’s heart when he had tried to take back the heart. Regrettably Mr Mercer had been caught in the cross fire and it had fallen to James to stab the heart. But of course Beckett should have no worries, after all James followed his orders well. It was imperative to keep Beckett and his men off of the Dutchman, James realized, he couldn’t afford to let Beckett get his hands on his heart. He still wasn’t sure what to do with Mercer, but he knew he had to keep him away from his master. He would need to find a moment to talk to Groves, he knew he was serving as the captain aboard the Endeavour, but hopefully he would agree to a slight demotion in exchange for regaining his honour.
Turner approached him, waiting respectfully for his captain to notice him. Bootstrap was amazed at the change that had come over the crew since the change of captain, and not just the physical changes. Everyone seemed much more disciplined, focused and even more respectful of each other. He watched the man before him, looking over the prow of the ship. He wasn’t the sort of man he would usually have sailed with, but he was grateful for his fairness and injection of new life to the Dutchman. The Captain turned, seeing him.
“Mr Turner.” He nodded his head in acknowledgment of his lieutenant.
“Commodore Norrington,” Some of the crew had called him Captain, but this title seemed to please him more, as if it were an old friend, “We are approaching the meeting point.”
James smiled and agreed with him. “Was there something else Lieutenant?”
There were in fact two other things that Bill wanted to put to him, but was unsure as to how he should broach the subjects, “Sir. You seemed to recognize my name when I introduced myself; I take it that you know my son? And if you know my son and I trust that you know that Elizabeth his wife to be?” He stammered out, James whirling around in rage.
“I know she is,” he roared, the hurt in his eyes flickering for all to see, “I am the one who gave her to him!” Without another word, or allowing Bill to redeem himself, he strode back to his cabin where Elizabeth waited - perhaps to prove his point.
Closing the door behind him he ran a hand over his wig. He shouldn’t have done that. Turner was out of line one part of his mind argued, maybe so, but he was right - the other chided. All thoughts of propriety were gone when he saw Elizabeth. She looked radiant. She was wearing a blue, corseted gown. It was nearly as beautiful as she was, he thought. She never would have gotten away with wearing such a dress in Port Royal - what made it simultaneously scandalous and breath-taking was that where the whale bones were stitched in, a different fabric had been laid over them, in a pale blue, underlining her fantastic hourglass shape. The dress was also off of her shoulders, and that combined with her long and loose hair made her look almost naked to his eyes.
Elizabeth let out a bell like laugh, startling him from his reverie.
“I take it you like it?” She teased him, eyes sparkling in that mischievous way that had been missing for so long. He had the urge to kiss her again, but instead gripped the handle of the door behind him, tightly.
“It is rather, ahem,” he stuttered and stammered, “fetching. If a little revealing. Where in God’s name did you find it?” Elizabeth scowled at him moodily and muttered something about finding it in his wardrobe, but didn’t push the matter. He was clearly distracted and she still had other things to ask.
“So what’s happening? Are we going to meet the others at Shipwreck Cove?” She asked curiously, despite her new found girlishness, brought on by the safety of being in James’ protection, she refused to be brushed aside. James turned and smiled somewhat patronisingly at her.
“No, no. We’re are meeting up with the Endeavour,” At her fleeting look of doubt he explained, “I’m going to see if we can get some more good men on this ship. I also want to know what they have planned.”
She acquiesced to his plan, but felt too afraid to ask any more. She knew he despised the things Beckett was doing and the way he ruined lives, but Beckett also offered an end to piracy - would he be able to resist that, she wondered? She hoped so, she dreaded the idea of having to choose a side. She stored that particular worry away for now, and in turn pressed James over another worry of hers.
“James?”
“Hmm?” He half answered as he undid his cravat and sat down on the loveseat opposite her.
“What will happen to my men?”
James looked down guiltily, he hadn’t forgotten about them, but she was sure not to like his decision. “Elizabeth, you know what I’ve always said,” with this she crossed the few steps between them and sitting down next to him she placed her hand over his mouth.
“I know, I know “any man sailing under a pirate brand or a pirate flag will get what he deserves, a short drop and a sudden stop”” she spoke, mimicking his deep drawl, “But please James, they are my men. Can’t you make and exception?” Whilst James’ mouth was closed, his eyebrows seemed to working overtime, to convey his annoyance and disapproval. She took her hand from his face, waiting for an answer.
“I’m sorry Elizabeth,” she bowed her head in defeat, “But any man that I find with brands on their arms must be punished,” he watched her and pity flooded him, “However, of course, if I am unable to find a brand then they may go free.” Elizabeth snapped up her head and smiled coyly at him. She stood, excusing herself and made to leave the room, before she reached the door though, she spun on her heel and rushing back to him, she planted a kiss full on his mouth before leaving without another word. James sat back in shock. What had he gotten himself into?
Chapter Seven
There was a knock on the door. James turned his head and called the person in, infinitely weary of this day and wishing it would soon be over. One of his lieutenants stuck his head around the door, he wasn’t sure what his name was, and informed him that the prisoners were ready to be inspected. Sighing, he checked that his uniform was all in place and put his tricorn back on. Duty calls.
The pirates had been assembled on the deck and were being lined up by various soldiers when James arrived. He could see Elizabeth arguing with one of the pirates and decided to start at the other end of the line, giving her as much time as he could. He drew up alongside the first of the pirates, he seemed to have some authority amongst the rabble and James patiently asked him if he could get the men to roll up their sleeves so that he might inspect their forearms. He complied and the action was repeated down the line. Silence descended on the men as the Commodore began his inspection. The first man had no tattoo, that was clear, nor did the next five or so. The seventh man had a suspiciously placed armband but James decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. So did the next two. His patience began to wear thin, but he managed to retain himself for Elizabeth’s sake. Elizabeth was still arguing with the man and waving around a scrap of cloth in front of him - James ignored her, as did the pirate. The tenth man had a nasty, fresh looking burn on his left arm and James let him go. Finally he came to the eleventh, the chap Elizabeth had been arguing with. He was taken aback at his appearance, he was a large man, one whom James would not have liked his odds against in anything other than a fair fight or battle of wits. He proudly displayed his forearms; on both was the pirate brand. Elizabeth closed her eyes in defeat. James contemplated “not” seeing them, but before he could make a decision the man spoke:
“Those are pirate brands, Commodore, just in case you had forgotten what they looked like. Unlike these cowards,” he turned, snarling at the rest of Sao Feng’s men, “I am proud to die for what I am; you have not the guts to do anything about it.”
James nodded simply, bellowing to his men, “Set up the gallows.” The man’s face remained impassive, but James fancied who could see a flicker of recognition in his eyes.
Elizabeth seized his arm tightly, but he ignored her, telling Turner to set the other ten up in a dingy - they were free to go. The redcoats brought out a wooden stool and a thick rope. A sailor shimmied up the rigging, looping it over the branch of the mast and below one of his old Navy men tied it into a noose. The crew began to assemble, looking decidedly uncomfortable and fearful - James wondered just how many of them had pirate brands? James freed himself from Elizabeth and walked over to wear the pirate was being held as they readied the noose.
“Any last requests?” James asked, knowing what sort of answer he would get. The man grinned at him and before James realized what he was doing, he spat at him - thankfully the gob of saliva hit only his boot.
“Fine then,” he sighed, why did he always try to reason with them? “As a representative of the King, I find you guilty of piracy and sentence you to death by hanging. May God have mercy on your soul.”
It had been a long time since James had himself given the order for execution - though not long enough. He walked back to Elizabeth and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He would have like for her to go back to his quarters, but he knew she would refuse. The pirate stepped onto the stool and one of the redcoats placed the noose around his neck. Turner had the unfortunate duty of performing the execution, and after a moment, looking for one last confirmation from his commander, kicked the stool out from underneath him. Elizabeth moaned and buried her head into his chest, clasping his hand tightly between hers. James lowered his eyes but he could still hear the choking of the man, even the sea seemed to have fallen silent. The moans and sound of thrashing continued. Realizing this could be a long death he pulled his hand free of Elizabeth once more and reached for his pistol, and looking the pirate in the eyes, he fired. Let none say that he was not merciful. James dropped the pistol to the deck and made for his cabin with Elizabeth - the shot still ringing over the sea.
Chapter Eight
Elizabeth sat, stunned, on the seat. She had managed not to cry. Just. But she didn’t know what had shocked her most, the execution, the fact that James executed him or that James had shot him. She looked up as James approached, carrying two glasses. He sat down next to her and nudged her hand with one of the tumblers until she took it. Numbly she looked down, it was a brown liquid, and she looked up at him again.
“Rum?” She asked, almost hopefully.
He smiled tightly at her, “No. Something with a little more kick. Drink it down; it’ll do you a world of good.”
Despite the horror of what had just happened, she still trusted him and without more questioning, she tipped her head back and drained the lot of it down her throat. It burnt harshly and she found herself sputtering slightly. It did, indeed, have more kick than rum. James smiled at her, drinking his own more slowly.
“Elizabeth,” he spoke softly trying to explain away her guilt, “There was nothing you could have done. You saved most of them - he had a death wish, it was his own fault, no one else’s - particularly not yours.” Elizabeth blinked dully at him. It crossed his mind that he perhaps shouldn’t have given her quite so much whiskey; after all she was a good deal smaller than he was. But the words seemed to ease her suffering somewhat. She put the glass down with a heavy "thunk". She turned back to him.
“How could you do it though?” She questioned.
“Do what?”
“Shoot him? Wasn’t he suffering enough?” She prodded, naively. James felt a flicker of resentment - why did she always expect the worse from him? Taking a deep breath to calm himself he explained.
“I didn’t shoot him to cause him pain. I did it to put him out of his misery. A man can live for long minutes if he doesn’t die immediately,” He leant forwards and lifted her head up so that he could see her eyes “I did what I did as an act of mercy.”
Elizabeth blinked strangely again, “I understand. I’m sorry that I even thought that you could be doing anything less than that,” Her eyes seemed to be clouding over slightly and as James felt her leaning into his hand he tried to scooch away from her on the seat but could move no further. Just as she leant in to kiss him, again, she suddenly burst into tears, clutching at his jacket. He had definitely given her too much whisky.
After several minutes of erratic sobbing Elizabeth seemed to doze off, much to James’s relief. Standing, he picked up her small frame and laid her on his bed. He wondered if he should loosen the corset but decided against anything that could make it come across as lecherous. It was just then that he realized that he had thrown his hat back into the ring. He was going to fight for her this time - William Turner had better watch out. With that he pulled the sheets over her and kissed her forehead lightly. He left her there to her sleep.
Out in the full sunshine his sailors were still scuttling around the place, following their first officer’s lead. The grotesque corpse was no where to be seen, though several recoats were sloshing buckets of water over a dark stain on the wood. Looking over the horizon, he thought he spotted something. James pulled his spyglass from his pocket and took a look ahead of them. His eyes did not deceive him. Some five leagues or so away, the Endeavour waited. He helped his men around the riggings as he waited for the ships to meet, making sure that he remembered to send someone to feed Mercer.
An hour later the two magnificent ships drew alongside, and James couldn’t help but feel a smug feeling of “my ship is better than yours”. He instructed his men to keep the Dutchman just outside of boarding range; he didn’t want anyone getting onto the ship that he didn’t want there. He did however get a rope ready, the ship would move just out of range after he had swung aboard the Endeavour. Taking his jacket off, he debated whether or not to take it with him. Eventually his sense of decency won out and he tied it around his waist. He kept the wig on, but lost the hat - he didn’t want it falling off. He climbed onto the ledge of the deck and took the rope that Turner offered him - it had been a while since he had done this. Not allowing himself to dwell on this, he leapt from the side and swung across the stretch of water. He made it, despite landing a little heavily on his landing. He let go of the rope as he felt the Dutchman move away. He pulled his jacket on, just as Groves came over, looking ridiculously sombre.
“Lord Beckett requests to see both you and Jones immediately in his study.” Groves spoke curtly, leaving James feeling a little hurt that their usual greetings had been dismissed. He followed the captain, not explaining where Jones was just yet. As they drew up to the doors, James tried breaking the silence.
“It’s good to see you Theo, I trust Beckett is not treating you too badly?”
Groves stopped outside of the door, and just as he was about to open the door he murmured to his friend, “Well he’s not capable of giving many tall orders, is he?” With a twinkle in his eye he ushered the Commodore in and shut the door behind him.
Chapter Nine
Beckett sat at the table in the middle of the room, sipping a cup of tea - predictably. James bowed to him, before realizing there was another man sat with him.
Beckett put down the teacup, “Good morning Admiral. I do believe you two know each other?” he spoke crisply, and the man sitting opposite him turned. It was none other than William Turner, the pirate/blacksmith extraordinaire; he smiled at James in a slightly too civilised manner, and gestured for him to sit. Feeling decidedly uneasy James took the chair in between the two, not speaking until Beckett spoke to him.
“As much as it is a pleasure to see you, Admiral, I’m afraid we were rather hoping for the captain of the Dutchman.” He spoke in his patronising tone.
It was James’ turn to smile, “I’m afraid, Lord Beckett, that Jones is no longer in control of the Dutchman.” He poured himself a cup of tea and took a sip, leaving Beckett confused.
“May I ask then as to who is?”
“That would be me, Lord Beckett,” he answered after dabbing at his mouth with a napkin; he was enjoying making Beckett squirm. Besides him, Will suddenly looked up, processing new information, “I must report, Lord Beckett, that tragically a few good men were lost trying to reign in Jones - including your Mr Mercer, I’m afraid.” Beckett’s face darkened slightly and his jaw muscles twitched.
Beckett knew he was on dangerous ground. Without Mercer holding the chest ransom, Norrington was free to do as he wished. Knowing that he had to be careful not to push the Admiral either way, he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt - for now.
He changed the subject, and they discussed their plan of attack, William Turner had brought with him the compass of Jack Sparrow - which would lead them to the meeting of the Pirate Brethren. Will also informed them of Barbossa’s mad plan to free Calypso, goddess of the sea. Of this last detail James felt sceptical, but then again he had indeed faced un-dead pirates and he himself was the immortal captain of a ship that ferried souls to heaven. James frowned, feeling a headache coming on. Beckett informed them of their heading, and just like that the meeting was over. James left quickly, hoping to be able to find Theodore before Beckett got his claws into him, but before he could escape completely, the junior Turner caught up with him.
“So it’s true? You are the captain of the Flying Dutchman?” He asked, eliciting a scathing look from the older man, James felt annoyed - could Elizabeth have at least chosen a slightly sharper suitor?
“Yes, Mr Turner I am. I assume you are enquiring as to your father’s health?” James drawled, not slowing his gait, forcing the shorter man to half jog to keep up with him - cruel but fun.
“He is still there then?” Will asked, looking for explicit confirmation.
“Yes. Very much so,” James replied, catching a glimpse of what appeared to be his former first officer turning around a corner, “If you would excuse me, there is someone I would speak with.” With that he left the younger man hanging and chased after his friend.
“Groves,” he hissed, not wanting to attract too much attention “get back here!” Theo turned at his voice and willingly trotted back over to him.
“Are you alright sir? Beckett seems a mess after some news you’d given him, any chance you’ll tell me what it is?” He asked. James thought of telling him the full story then but decided against it, not wanting to risk being caught.
“You trust me, don’t you?” He questioned his friend.
“Of course sir” He answered back, not quite sure where this line of conversation was leading.
“Not just as your superior, but as a friend?” James prodded, not wanting anything less than total allegiance.
“With my life,” Groves answered back quickly, and added cheekily, “Sir.”
James smiled at him, “Come with me. Back to the Flying Dutchman, quickly before we’re missed - I’ll tell you everything there.”
Theo looked hesitant, conscious of the unforgiving nature of Lord Beckett. But given a choice he would rather upset the Lord than his Admiral. He nodded his head, “Let’s go.”
Chapter Ten
James landed on the deck of the Dutchman with a heavy thud, letting the heavy rope snake out of his hand and return to the Endeavour. James turned to watch Groves, for whom it had also, clearly, been a long time since using a rope. Unfortunately Groves’ grace was not quite as great as James’ and the man lost his footing once on the deck, tumbling back onto his tailbone and being dragged backwards on the deck by the rope - forgetting in the melee to let go of it. Thankfully one of the crewmembers had the sense of mind to pull the rope from the officer before he got pulled over the side of the ship. James let out a dry chuckle as his friend got to his feet and sheepishly readjusted his wig, the hat having fallen off along the way.
“Not a word.” Theodore said sounding pained as he approached his commander. James pursed his lips and tried not to make contact with him, or any of the crewmen suppressing giggles around the deck.
“Any ways, I think you owe me an explanation for dragging me over here, don’t you?” He added testily.
“Indeed I do.” And as James helmed the ship he explained the atrocious things that Beckett had been doing, as if Groves didn’t already know, the Dead Man’s Chest, and killing Davy Jones. He explained with some difficulty his apparent immortality and saw the flash of temptation cross his friend’s features - the cheeky bugger wanted to put that to the test!
He watched his friend’s face as he spoke, unnerved slightly by his silence, but knowing that it was his way - to listen and only ask questions at the end. James realized as he finished that he had somehow omitted Elizabeth from the story, but he decided he would explain that later. Groves bit his lip, thinking carefully about what he was going to say, resting his weight onto the side of the boat, hands splayed wide across the gleaming wood.
“So what do you need from me?” He said, short and too the point, still looking over the seas.
“Sail with me. Revive the Navy in all her glory.” Groves smiled at his friend’s sincerity - but his completely having missed the point.
“You don’t need me for that. What do you want me to do?” He asked again.
“You are good officer, a fine man and,” James clapped him on the shoulder, “a true friend. Sail with me again as my first officer?”
Theodore smiled, “You realised that is, technically a demotion for me?” he teased his old friend before agreeing - the two men shaking hands on the matter.
James was pleased. Smiling, he led the man back down to the main deck and joked that Groves could have the honour of telling Lieutenant Turner that he had been replaced as his first act as first officer. They chatted amiably as they watched the Endeavour bank slightly to the starboard side, and drawing away from them.
“Have they not noticed I’m gone?” Theodore asked, somewhat put out.
James let out a deep laugh, “Beckett doesn’t want to spend any longer than he has to with me - I suspect you’re easily replaceable.” James ribbed him.
James was in no hurry to set off just yet - they were capable of getting anywhere in the Caribbean in under three days. What really gnawed at James’ consciousness was that he still hadn’t decided on a final plan of action yet. He supposed he would have to talk to Groves and Elizabeth about that. A sailor came up to the two officers, it was Turner, and offered Theodore his, more than slightly wet, hat which some pitying crewman had fished out of the water. Theodore thanked him and Turner a returned to his tasks with a deferential bow. James was relieved that there were no apparent hard feelings.
Theodore was telling him about the latest situation in the English colonies, how a group of children - as young as six - had been hung on Beckett’s orders, on the charge of associating with pirates. James shuddered, “how could the world have come to this?” he wondered as he gazed over the guard rail into the ocean. He thought longingly after the whisky that was in his cabin, but wouldn’t dare to intrude on Elizabeth’s sleep. As if on cue the captain’s quarters doors swung open with a bang and Elizabeth still in her fantastic gown stumbled out into the daylight, looking bleary eyed and dazed by the sun. Theodore immediately whipped his head around, glaring accusingly at James. James merely shrugged helplessly, “She was on board at the time is all.” Groves looked like he wanted to interrogate him further about what his friend thought he was doing with a rather saucily clad younger woman, whom James was most likely still very much in love with, in his cabin. Before anything more could be said Elizabeth made her way over to the men and exchanged stiff formalities with the new first officer. Elizabeth didn’t really know a good deal about the man except that he had taken a disliking to her after she had humiliated his commander, and for that she couldn’t blame him. She moved to lean on the guard rail on the other side of James and the three stood in silence for several minutes, alternating between gazing pensively into the horizon and shooting furtive glares at each other. Finally James suggested they convene in the cabin so that they could discuss what their plan of action would be. Elizabeth smiled in acquiescence and Groves gave a sharp nod. She slipped her small hand through his arm and he led her in - the action not missed by the keen eyed first officer. Theodore let out a cough that sounded an awful lot like tutting to James, and Elizabeth frowned in disapproval.
James sighed in annoyance, by all means this should have been a perfect scene for him, captaining the most powerful ship in the Caribbean with his trusted friend and the woman he loved at his side, and instead they were ignoring each other’s presences and distinctly cooling the atmosphere. Bloody insubordinates, James thought, bloody women!
Title: Transformation
Summary: James Norrington chooses a different side: his own. (Chapters one to five - i.e. half the story so far)
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Mainly James Norrington and Elizabeth Swann
Disclaimer: Trust me, I'm making no money of off this, in the words of Phoebe Buffay, if I did: "Say I bought a really great pair of shoes with the money. Do you know what I'd hear with every step I took? 'Not-mine, not-mine, not-mine.' And even if I were happy, ok, and, and skipping, I'd hear 'notNOT-mine, notNOT-mine, notNOT-mine, notNOT-mine.."
Chapter Six
He had made his decision. They would go to the meeting point. He barked out the orders, and watched in satisfaction as his men scurried around, doing his bidding. It felt good to be in control of a ship of his own again. His mind wandered back to his plan. They would go. James would explain to Beckett that they had been forced to destroy Davy Jones’s heart when he had tried to take back the heart. Regrettably Mr Mercer had been caught in the cross fire and it had fallen to James to stab the heart. But of course Beckett should have no worries, after all James followed his orders well. It was imperative to keep Beckett and his men off of the Dutchman, James realized, he couldn’t afford to let Beckett get his hands on his heart. He still wasn’t sure what to do with Mercer, but he knew he had to keep him away from his master. He would need to find a moment to talk to Groves, he knew he was serving as the captain aboard the Endeavour, but hopefully he would agree to a slight demotion in exchange for regaining his honour.
Turner approached him, waiting respectfully for his captain to notice him. Bootstrap was amazed at the change that had come over the crew since the change of captain, and not just the physical changes. Everyone seemed much more disciplined, focused and even more respectful of each other. He watched the man before him, looking over the prow of the ship. He wasn’t the sort of man he would usually have sailed with, but he was grateful for his fairness and injection of new life to the Dutchman. The Captain turned, seeing him.
“Mr Turner.” He nodded his head in acknowledgment of his lieutenant.
“Commodore Norrington,” Some of the crew had called him Captain, but this title seemed to please him more, as if it were an old friend, “We are approaching the meeting point.”
James smiled and agreed with him. “Was there something else Lieutenant?”
There were in fact two other things that Bill wanted to put to him, but was unsure as to how he should broach the subjects, “Sir. You seemed to recognize my name when I introduced myself; I take it that you know my son? And if you know my son and I trust that you know that Elizabeth his wife to be?” He stammered out, James whirling around in rage.
“I know she is,” he roared, the hurt in his eyes flickering for all to see, “I am the one who gave her to him!” Without another word, or allowing Bill to redeem himself, he strode back to his cabin where Elizabeth waited - perhaps to prove his point.
Closing the door behind him he ran a hand over his wig. He shouldn’t have done that. Turner was out of line one part of his mind argued, maybe so, but he was right - the other chided. All thoughts of propriety were gone when he saw Elizabeth. She looked radiant. She was wearing a blue, corseted gown. It was nearly as beautiful as she was, he thought. She never would have gotten away with wearing such a dress in Port Royal - what made it simultaneously scandalous and breath-taking was that where the whale bones were stitched in, a different fabric had been laid over them, in a pale blue, underlining her fantastic hourglass shape. The dress was also off of her shoulders, and that combined with her long and loose hair made her look almost naked to his eyes.
Elizabeth let out a bell like laugh, startling him from his reverie.
“I take it you like it?” She teased him, eyes sparkling in that mischievous way that had been missing for so long. He had the urge to kiss her again, but instead gripped the handle of the door behind him, tightly.
“It is rather, ahem,” he stuttered and stammered, “fetching. If a little revealing. Where in God’s name did you find it?” Elizabeth scowled at him moodily and muttered something about finding it in his wardrobe, but didn’t push the matter. He was clearly distracted and she still had other things to ask.
“So what’s happening? Are we going to meet the others at Shipwreck Cove?” She asked curiously, despite her new found girlishness, brought on by the safety of being in James’ protection, she refused to be brushed aside. James turned and smiled somewhat patronisingly at her.
“No, no. We’re are meeting up with the Endeavour,” At her fleeting look of doubt he explained, “I’m going to see if we can get some more good men on this ship. I also want to know what they have planned.”
She acquiesced to his plan, but felt too afraid to ask any more. She knew he despised the things Beckett was doing and the way he ruined lives, but Beckett also offered an end to piracy - would he be able to resist that, she wondered? She hoped so, she dreaded the idea of having to choose a side. She stored that particular worry away for now, and in turn pressed James over another worry of hers.
“James?”
“Hmm?” He half answered as he undid his cravat and sat down on the loveseat opposite her.
“What will happen to my men?”
James looked down guiltily, he hadn’t forgotten about them, but she was sure not to like his decision. “Elizabeth, you know what I’ve always said,” with this she crossed the few steps between them and sitting down next to him she placed her hand over his mouth.
“I know, I know “any man sailing under a pirate brand or a pirate flag will get what he deserves, a short drop and a sudden stop”” she spoke, mimicking his deep drawl, “But please James, they are my men. Can’t you make and exception?” Whilst James’ mouth was closed, his eyebrows seemed to working overtime, to convey his annoyance and disapproval. She took her hand from his face, waiting for an answer.
“I’m sorry Elizabeth,” she bowed her head in defeat, “But any man that I find with brands on their arms must be punished,” he watched her and pity flooded him, “However, of course, if I am unable to find a brand then they may go free.” Elizabeth snapped up her head and smiled coyly at him. She stood, excusing herself and made to leave the room, before she reached the door though, she spun on her heel and rushing back to him, she planted a kiss full on his mouth before leaving without another word. James sat back in shock. What had he gotten himself into?
Chapter Seven
There was a knock on the door. James turned his head and called the person in, infinitely weary of this day and wishing it would soon be over. One of his lieutenants stuck his head around the door, he wasn’t sure what his name was, and informed him that the prisoners were ready to be inspected. Sighing, he checked that his uniform was all in place and put his tricorn back on. Duty calls.
The pirates had been assembled on the deck and were being lined up by various soldiers when James arrived. He could see Elizabeth arguing with one of the pirates and decided to start at the other end of the line, giving her as much time as he could. He drew up alongside the first of the pirates, he seemed to have some authority amongst the rabble and James patiently asked him if he could get the men to roll up their sleeves so that he might inspect their forearms. He complied and the action was repeated down the line. Silence descended on the men as the Commodore began his inspection. The first man had no tattoo, that was clear, nor did the next five or so. The seventh man had a suspiciously placed armband but James decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. So did the next two. His patience began to wear thin, but he managed to retain himself for Elizabeth’s sake. Elizabeth was still arguing with the man and waving around a scrap of cloth in front of him - James ignored her, as did the pirate. The tenth man had a nasty, fresh looking burn on his left arm and James let him go. Finally he came to the eleventh, the chap Elizabeth had been arguing with. He was taken aback at his appearance, he was a large man, one whom James would not have liked his odds against in anything other than a fair fight or battle of wits. He proudly displayed his forearms; on both was the pirate brand. Elizabeth closed her eyes in defeat. James contemplated “not” seeing them, but before he could make a decision the man spoke:
“Those are pirate brands, Commodore, just in case you had forgotten what they looked like. Unlike these cowards,” he turned, snarling at the rest of Sao Feng’s men, “I am proud to die for what I am; you have not the guts to do anything about it.”
James nodded simply, bellowing to his men, “Set up the gallows.” The man’s face remained impassive, but James fancied who could see a flicker of recognition in his eyes.
Elizabeth seized his arm tightly, but he ignored her, telling Turner to set the other ten up in a dingy - they were free to go. The redcoats brought out a wooden stool and a thick rope. A sailor shimmied up the rigging, looping it over the branch of the mast and below one of his old Navy men tied it into a noose. The crew began to assemble, looking decidedly uncomfortable and fearful - James wondered just how many of them had pirate brands? James freed himself from Elizabeth and walked over to wear the pirate was being held as they readied the noose.
“Any last requests?” James asked, knowing what sort of answer he would get. The man grinned at him and before James realized what he was doing, he spat at him - thankfully the gob of saliva hit only his boot.
“Fine then,” he sighed, why did he always try to reason with them? “As a representative of the King, I find you guilty of piracy and sentence you to death by hanging. May God have mercy on your soul.”
It had been a long time since James had himself given the order for execution - though not long enough. He walked back to Elizabeth and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He would have like for her to go back to his quarters, but he knew she would refuse. The pirate stepped onto the stool and one of the redcoats placed the noose around his neck. Turner had the unfortunate duty of performing the execution, and after a moment, looking for one last confirmation from his commander, kicked the stool out from underneath him. Elizabeth moaned and buried her head into his chest, clasping his hand tightly between hers. James lowered his eyes but he could still hear the choking of the man, even the sea seemed to have fallen silent. The moans and sound of thrashing continued. Realizing this could be a long death he pulled his hand free of Elizabeth once more and reached for his pistol, and looking the pirate in the eyes, he fired. Let none say that he was not merciful. James dropped the pistol to the deck and made for his cabin with Elizabeth - the shot still ringing over the sea.
Chapter Eight
Elizabeth sat, stunned, on the seat. She had managed not to cry. Just. But she didn’t know what had shocked her most, the execution, the fact that James executed him or that James had shot him. She looked up as James approached, carrying two glasses. He sat down next to her and nudged her hand with one of the tumblers until she took it. Numbly she looked down, it was a brown liquid, and she looked up at him again.
“Rum?” She asked, almost hopefully.
He smiled tightly at her, “No. Something with a little more kick. Drink it down; it’ll do you a world of good.”
Despite the horror of what had just happened, she still trusted him and without more questioning, she tipped her head back and drained the lot of it down her throat. It burnt harshly and she found herself sputtering slightly. It did, indeed, have more kick than rum. James smiled at her, drinking his own more slowly.
“Elizabeth,” he spoke softly trying to explain away her guilt, “There was nothing you could have done. You saved most of them - he had a death wish, it was his own fault, no one else’s - particularly not yours.” Elizabeth blinked dully at him. It crossed his mind that he perhaps shouldn’t have given her quite so much whiskey; after all she was a good deal smaller than he was. But the words seemed to ease her suffering somewhat. She put the glass down with a heavy "thunk". She turned back to him.
“How could you do it though?” She questioned.
“Do what?”
“Shoot him? Wasn’t he suffering enough?” She prodded, naively. James felt a flicker of resentment - why did she always expect the worse from him? Taking a deep breath to calm himself he explained.
“I didn’t shoot him to cause him pain. I did it to put him out of his misery. A man can live for long minutes if he doesn’t die immediately,” He leant forwards and lifted her head up so that he could see her eyes “I did what I did as an act of mercy.”
Elizabeth blinked strangely again, “I understand. I’m sorry that I even thought that you could be doing anything less than that,” Her eyes seemed to be clouding over slightly and as James felt her leaning into his hand he tried to scooch away from her on the seat but could move no further. Just as she leant in to kiss him, again, she suddenly burst into tears, clutching at his jacket. He had definitely given her too much whisky.
After several minutes of erratic sobbing Elizabeth seemed to doze off, much to James’s relief. Standing, he picked up her small frame and laid her on his bed. He wondered if he should loosen the corset but decided against anything that could make it come across as lecherous. It was just then that he realized that he had thrown his hat back into the ring. He was going to fight for her this time - William Turner had better watch out. With that he pulled the sheets over her and kissed her forehead lightly. He left her there to her sleep.
Out in the full sunshine his sailors were still scuttling around the place, following their first officer’s lead. The grotesque corpse was no where to be seen, though several recoats were sloshing buckets of water over a dark stain on the wood. Looking over the horizon, he thought he spotted something. James pulled his spyglass from his pocket and took a look ahead of them. His eyes did not deceive him. Some five leagues or so away, the Endeavour waited. He helped his men around the riggings as he waited for the ships to meet, making sure that he remembered to send someone to feed Mercer.
An hour later the two magnificent ships drew alongside, and James couldn’t help but feel a smug feeling of “my ship is better than yours”. He instructed his men to keep the Dutchman just outside of boarding range; he didn’t want anyone getting onto the ship that he didn’t want there. He did however get a rope ready, the ship would move just out of range after he had swung aboard the Endeavour. Taking his jacket off, he debated whether or not to take it with him. Eventually his sense of decency won out and he tied it around his waist. He kept the wig on, but lost the hat - he didn’t want it falling off. He climbed onto the ledge of the deck and took the rope that Turner offered him - it had been a while since he had done this. Not allowing himself to dwell on this, he leapt from the side and swung across the stretch of water. He made it, despite landing a little heavily on his landing. He let go of the rope as he felt the Dutchman move away. He pulled his jacket on, just as Groves came over, looking ridiculously sombre.
“Lord Beckett requests to see both you and Jones immediately in his study.” Groves spoke curtly, leaving James feeling a little hurt that their usual greetings had been dismissed. He followed the captain, not explaining where Jones was just yet. As they drew up to the doors, James tried breaking the silence.
“It’s good to see you Theo, I trust Beckett is not treating you too badly?”
Groves stopped outside of the door, and just as he was about to open the door he murmured to his friend, “Well he’s not capable of giving many tall orders, is he?” With a twinkle in his eye he ushered the Commodore in and shut the door behind him.
Chapter Nine
Beckett sat at the table in the middle of the room, sipping a cup of tea - predictably. James bowed to him, before realizing there was another man sat with him.
Beckett put down the teacup, “Good morning Admiral. I do believe you two know each other?” he spoke crisply, and the man sitting opposite him turned. It was none other than William Turner, the pirate/blacksmith extraordinaire; he smiled at James in a slightly too civilised manner, and gestured for him to sit. Feeling decidedly uneasy James took the chair in between the two, not speaking until Beckett spoke to him.
“As much as it is a pleasure to see you, Admiral, I’m afraid we were rather hoping for the captain of the Dutchman.” He spoke in his patronising tone.
It was James’ turn to smile, “I’m afraid, Lord Beckett, that Jones is no longer in control of the Dutchman.” He poured himself a cup of tea and took a sip, leaving Beckett confused.
“May I ask then as to who is?”
“That would be me, Lord Beckett,” he answered after dabbing at his mouth with a napkin; he was enjoying making Beckett squirm. Besides him, Will suddenly looked up, processing new information, “I must report, Lord Beckett, that tragically a few good men were lost trying to reign in Jones - including your Mr Mercer, I’m afraid.” Beckett’s face darkened slightly and his jaw muscles twitched.
Beckett knew he was on dangerous ground. Without Mercer holding the chest ransom, Norrington was free to do as he wished. Knowing that he had to be careful not to push the Admiral either way, he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt - for now.
He changed the subject, and they discussed their plan of attack, William Turner had brought with him the compass of Jack Sparrow - which would lead them to the meeting of the Pirate Brethren. Will also informed them of Barbossa’s mad plan to free Calypso, goddess of the sea. Of this last detail James felt sceptical, but then again he had indeed faced un-dead pirates and he himself was the immortal captain of a ship that ferried souls to heaven. James frowned, feeling a headache coming on. Beckett informed them of their heading, and just like that the meeting was over. James left quickly, hoping to be able to find Theodore before Beckett got his claws into him, but before he could escape completely, the junior Turner caught up with him.
“So it’s true? You are the captain of the Flying Dutchman?” He asked, eliciting a scathing look from the older man, James felt annoyed - could Elizabeth have at least chosen a slightly sharper suitor?
“Yes, Mr Turner I am. I assume you are enquiring as to your father’s health?” James drawled, not slowing his gait, forcing the shorter man to half jog to keep up with him - cruel but fun.
“He is still there then?” Will asked, looking for explicit confirmation.
“Yes. Very much so,” James replied, catching a glimpse of what appeared to be his former first officer turning around a corner, “If you would excuse me, there is someone I would speak with.” With that he left the younger man hanging and chased after his friend.
“Groves,” he hissed, not wanting to attract too much attention “get back here!” Theo turned at his voice and willingly trotted back over to him.
“Are you alright sir? Beckett seems a mess after some news you’d given him, any chance you’ll tell me what it is?” He asked. James thought of telling him the full story then but decided against it, not wanting to risk being caught.
“You trust me, don’t you?” He questioned his friend.
“Of course sir” He answered back, not quite sure where this line of conversation was leading.
“Not just as your superior, but as a friend?” James prodded, not wanting anything less than total allegiance.
“With my life,” Groves answered back quickly, and added cheekily, “Sir.”
James smiled at him, “Come with me. Back to the Flying Dutchman, quickly before we’re missed - I’ll tell you everything there.”
Theo looked hesitant, conscious of the unforgiving nature of Lord Beckett. But given a choice he would rather upset the Lord than his Admiral. He nodded his head, “Let’s go.”
Chapter Ten
James landed on the deck of the Dutchman with a heavy thud, letting the heavy rope snake out of his hand and return to the Endeavour. James turned to watch Groves, for whom it had also, clearly, been a long time since using a rope. Unfortunately Groves’ grace was not quite as great as James’ and the man lost his footing once on the deck, tumbling back onto his tailbone and being dragged backwards on the deck by the rope - forgetting in the melee to let go of it. Thankfully one of the crewmembers had the sense of mind to pull the rope from the officer before he got pulled over the side of the ship. James let out a dry chuckle as his friend got to his feet and sheepishly readjusted his wig, the hat having fallen off along the way.
“Not a word.” Theodore said sounding pained as he approached his commander. James pursed his lips and tried not to make contact with him, or any of the crewmen suppressing giggles around the deck.
“Any ways, I think you owe me an explanation for dragging me over here, don’t you?” He added testily.
“Indeed I do.” And as James helmed the ship he explained the atrocious things that Beckett had been doing, as if Groves didn’t already know, the Dead Man’s Chest, and killing Davy Jones. He explained with some difficulty his apparent immortality and saw the flash of temptation cross his friend’s features - the cheeky bugger wanted to put that to the test!
He watched his friend’s face as he spoke, unnerved slightly by his silence, but knowing that it was his way - to listen and only ask questions at the end. James realized as he finished that he had somehow omitted Elizabeth from the story, but he decided he would explain that later. Groves bit his lip, thinking carefully about what he was going to say, resting his weight onto the side of the boat, hands splayed wide across the gleaming wood.
“So what do you need from me?” He said, short and too the point, still looking over the seas.
“Sail with me. Revive the Navy in all her glory.” Groves smiled at his friend’s sincerity - but his completely having missed the point.
“You don’t need me for that. What do you want me to do?” He asked again.
“You are good officer, a fine man and,” James clapped him on the shoulder, “a true friend. Sail with me again as my first officer?”
Theodore smiled, “You realised that is, technically a demotion for me?” he teased his old friend before agreeing - the two men shaking hands on the matter.
James was pleased. Smiling, he led the man back down to the main deck and joked that Groves could have the honour of telling Lieutenant Turner that he had been replaced as his first act as first officer. They chatted amiably as they watched the Endeavour bank slightly to the starboard side, and drawing away from them.
“Have they not noticed I’m gone?” Theodore asked, somewhat put out.
James let out a deep laugh, “Beckett doesn’t want to spend any longer than he has to with me - I suspect you’re easily replaceable.” James ribbed him.
James was in no hurry to set off just yet - they were capable of getting anywhere in the Caribbean in under three days. What really gnawed at James’ consciousness was that he still hadn’t decided on a final plan of action yet. He supposed he would have to talk to Groves and Elizabeth about that. A sailor came up to the two officers, it was Turner, and offered Theodore his, more than slightly wet, hat which some pitying crewman had fished out of the water. Theodore thanked him and Turner a returned to his tasks with a deferential bow. James was relieved that there were no apparent hard feelings.
Theodore was telling him about the latest situation in the English colonies, how a group of children - as young as six - had been hung on Beckett’s orders, on the charge of associating with pirates. James shuddered, “how could the world have come to this?” he wondered as he gazed over the guard rail into the ocean. He thought longingly after the whisky that was in his cabin, but wouldn’t dare to intrude on Elizabeth’s sleep. As if on cue the captain’s quarters doors swung open with a bang and Elizabeth still in her fantastic gown stumbled out into the daylight, looking bleary eyed and dazed by the sun. Theodore immediately whipped his head around, glaring accusingly at James. James merely shrugged helplessly, “She was on board at the time is all.” Groves looked like he wanted to interrogate him further about what his friend thought he was doing with a rather saucily clad younger woman, whom James was most likely still very much in love with, in his cabin. Before anything more could be said Elizabeth made her way over to the men and exchanged stiff formalities with the new first officer. Elizabeth didn’t really know a good deal about the man except that he had taken a disliking to her after she had humiliated his commander, and for that she couldn’t blame him. She moved to lean on the guard rail on the other side of James and the three stood in silence for several minutes, alternating between gazing pensively into the horizon and shooting furtive glares at each other. Finally James suggested they convene in the cabin so that they could discuss what their plan of action would be. Elizabeth smiled in acquiescence and Groves gave a sharp nod. She slipped her small hand through his arm and he led her in - the action not missed by the keen eyed first officer. Theodore let out a cough that sounded an awful lot like tutting to James, and Elizabeth frowned in disapproval.
James sighed in annoyance, by all means this should have been a perfect scene for him, captaining the most powerful ship in the Caribbean with his trusted friend and the woman he loved at his side, and instead they were ignoring each other’s presences and distinctly cooling the atmosphere. Bloody insubordinates, James thought, bloody women!