Harry & the Pirate III: Norrington's Choice

[geekmama]

Chapter Twelve: …Something Beginning With 'S'

Ships. Ships of war.

"Holy God, there must be a dozen of 'em!" breathed Jack, finally.

"Only ten," Norrington said, his voice flat.

Jack looked at him, noting the line of his mouth. "Back to bein' the Commodore, eh?"

Norrington looked at the man beside him, and the line of his mouth drew up in reluctant amusement. "That obvious, is it?"

"Aye. As I said, only an idiot wouldn't see it, an' it's a dangerous thing to be, just here an' now, savvy?"

James nodded. Glancing at the menacing fleet again, he observed wryly, "Perhaps in this case it is I who need protection, more than you."

"We'll each watch out for the other, eh?" said Jack, adding, "We'll be wantin' information about that fleet, an' we'll need to fetch those lads out o' Tussaud's house as quick as may be, both risky pieces o' business. I'm likely a bit more familiar with such clandestine doings, so you'll follow my lead, agreed?"

Norrington looked at him again, and nodded. "Agreed. As I said on the ship."

"Good," said Jack, shortly. "Now let's go down an' get some breakfast, an' see what we can find out."

They made their way out of the hills, running across a path that led toward the town within the first few minutes of their descent. The morning air was fresh and cool, and scented with flowers and other vegetation. Presently, however, as they neared the outskirts of Fort-de-France, a new scent wafted toward them on the air.

"Breakfast!" exclaimed Jack happily, and veered off on a side path, following his nose. "Those Frenchies may be fools about some things, but they've got the right idea about good eatin'. Never met a pastry of Anatole's I didn't like, an' we've apparently come on a pack of his relations."

"You truly are a sybarite, aren't you?" said Norrington with some amusement.

"When I've the chance to be so, of course I am. There've been any number o' times in the last twenty years when I could only dream of such things."

"I suppose you are right. One must have sustenance, after all, so why should it not be enjoyable when possible?"

"Precisely. Never did hold with all that nonsense about plain livin'."

"Marriage to Lady Henrietta must suit you admirably."

Jack glanced sidelong at Norrington, and chuckled. "You've no idea, mate!"

Norrington smirked at this, and considered disputing Jack's assertion, but they were coming into town now and the Commodore thought it best to be silent.

Jack concurred, saying quietly, "You let me do the talkin' now. An' it'd help if ye didn't look like someone's stuck a poker up yer arse. The play's the thing, as the bard said. If you can lead 'em to believe you're a bit touched they won't bother tryin' to speak to you."

"Touched?"

"Shhh! Aye. You know: off your head a bit." Jack looked at his companion and sighed. "Too much to ask, eh?"

Norrington glared.

"Well, just be quiet, then," said Jack.

They came up behind some buildings, walked between two of them and found themselves on the road that ran along the harbor front.

"There's the inn where that lovely smell's comin' from," said Jack, starting up the street. But Norrington veered off to cross slowly, purposefully to the harbor, and when Jack noticed he followed, catching up as they reached the stone seawall. For a while the two were silent, studying the warships.

"None alone is a match for the Dauntless," said James, "But together…" His voice trailed off, and there was a crease between his brows.

Jack said, "We'll fetch the lads an' make for Barbados. There're the two new frigates an' that corvette, besides that brigantine, the Reliant. You can see about sendin' 'em out to warn the others. And we'll sail for Port Royal on the next tide.

James frowned. "How do you know about those frigates? That is not yet public knowledge!"

"I ain't the public. It's my business to know such things."

James stared out at the ships, and observed dryly, "The more I learn of you, the more I feel it's as well you carry our Letter of Marque."

"Oh, quite. Let's get breakfast."

Jack turned away from the harbor and sauntered toward the inn, and Norrington followed.

o-o-o

Breakfast proved to be interesting, from a culinary and an informational standpoint. Norrington, although declining to feign insanity (murmuring that he would leave that to Jack), suggested he pretend to be deaf. This preserved his dignity yet allowed him to keep silent, absorbing in stone-faced silence the loose talk of the local citizenry when Jack excused himself for a few minutes in the middle of their meal. Norrington was treated to not only the locals' opinion of the flamboyant stranger ("…a little mad, no?"), but also to a brief discussion of how the so beautiful fleet would shortly be on the way to challenge British supremacy in Jamaica. By the time Jack came back to finish his repast (which the pirate praised to the waiter in extravagant and extremely idiomatic French) Norrington had very nearly the sum of it.

On leaving the inn, they slipped down a side street and headed for Tussaud's fortress.

"The governor is from home, it seems, but will return with their naval commander and two more ships in a matter of days. That is what they are waiting for."

"A round dozen, then," said Jack. "You did well, Jamie-lad. We'll make a spy of you yet!"

Norrington sighed at the familiar form of address. "'Jamie-lad'", he said with distaste. "I suppose I should be thankful it's nothing worse, though it seems quite inappropriate just considering we are of an age."

"Oh, are we? An' how would you know? What're you? Thirty?"

"Thirty-two."

"Quite elderly, then. Still, I've a good few years on you, chronologically speakin'. I've about a hundred, if we're talkin' experience."

The Commodore privately thought Jack might be right, although it wouldn't do to admit it, thereby puffing up the Captain to an even greater extent. The man would have been insufferable, at times, if he wasn't so…what? Amusing. Intelligent. Capable. He seemed to revel in acting the part of a fool, then turned around and showed glimpses of steel. The play's the thing, indeed. The man had more layers than an onion. The simile made James chuckle aloud.

"What?" demanded Jack, with a quick look of suspicion.

Norrington's lips twitched. "Nothing. Never mind. Where is this place?"

Tussaud's mansion was on a hill overlooking the city. They elected to walk up the road to it, as there was heavy vegetation all around the area, but they kept a wary eye and ear and left the road at their first glimpse of the tall, rather forbidding gates. Striking out around the perimeter of the walled property, Jack led the way to a discovery he'd made on that previous visit to the merchant's home a few years ago: a small but functional gate in the back wall, half hidden by vines.

"Probably has other bolt-holes, but this one doesn't appear to see much use. We'll wait until dusk, then get inside. I think we can enter the house through the kitchen. They'll be expecting something, but maybe not quite so soon as this."

"Very well," said Norrington. "I shall stand the first watch. We might do well to get caught up on some of the sleep we missed last night."

"My thought precisely, Commodore," said Jack, gracefully disposing himself on the shady grass, his back against a tree.

Norrington, leaning against another tree, raised a brow, and looked down at the pirate. "What happened to 'Jamie-lad'?"

Jack tipped his hat back again and eyed the man. "Thought you objected."

James chuckled at the notion that this made any difference. "James will do," he said.

Jack grinned crookedly. "James it is, then." He pulled the hat forward, again, and added, "An' you've my permission to call me Captain Jack." He chuckled at Norrington's bark of laughter, and settled himself to sleep.

o-o-o

They took the watch in turns all afternoon, catching up on some much needed rest, and, later, lunching on some good bread and cheese that had found their way into Jack's capacious pockets when they'd been at the inn. For Jack's part, as much as Norrington had so recently been his sworn enemy, he felt quite at ease with the man at this present, and in this situation. Norrington was proving himself to be reliably competent, and gratifyingly quick on the uptake, and, though it was not said outright, the man's concerns and determination were similar to Jack's. Maggie had not been much mentioned, but the little he had said, about her and about the boy Charles, was most telling. And there had been the look that passed between James and Maggie when goodbyes had been said.

Harry had noticed it too, at the time, and they had shared a conspiratorial smile over it. Then Harry's smile had faded to worry again, and she had hugged and kissed Jack fiercely before setting him away from her and straightening, determinedly. God, she was the sweetest thing, and as full of pluck as she could stare even this close to giving birth. He dearly wished he could have seen her little contretemps with Scarlet. And her evident contrition over shooting him, together with her delightfully solicitous care while he'd convalesced, made him feel he was pretty much the luckiest man in the world. Maybe too lucky.

Of course that was the other side of love. He had always placed a high value on life (particularly his own), but now, aware of ill chances and the inscrutable and not always fortuitous workings of fate, there was a certain, ever-present terror at the back of his mind at the thought of harm or death coming to either of them. He could understand, now, how hearts and minds could break with grief, whereas he'd thought such maunderings to be pure self-indulgence in his previous existence. More fool he. One never stopped learning, it seemed.

Perhaps it was the heightened sense of awareness that came with this lesson that informed him, even before Norrington nudged him with a booted foot, that there was danger close at hand late that afternoon. His eyes popped open and he struggled to rise swiftly, drawing his sword. James, too, had his sword out, and the two of them backed away into the deep shadows.

"What is it, do you think?" whispered Jack, and that was all the conversation there was time for. Three armed men came into the clearing (and how they'd got so close with so little noise was anyone's guess), and one of them saw the discarded napkin the food had been wrapped in, then gave the alarm as he caught sight of Jack and James.

The fight was desperate, though mercifully short. They could not chance any of their enemies escaping to inform Tussaud of their presence, but their skill at swordplay and other aspects of battle were such that the sentries were disabled and trussed up within five minutes, slightly hurt but generally in good condition.

"You're all right?" Jack asked Norrington, who'd ended up having to chase one of the men down. The Commodore's civilian clothing was rather worse for the experience, and he had a slight cut on his jaw. Jack took out a handkerchief.

"What?" said Norrington.

"Hold still." Jack cleaned off the blood with care and told him, "It's not much. Don't touch it!" Jack slapped his hand away.

Norrington frowned at him, annoyed and amused both. "Yes, Captain."

Jack gave him a look, but chose to ignore the sardonic tone. "Bloody hell," he swore, stuffing the handkerchief in his pocket again. "We've got to move, now! They'll soon be missing these lads, and we've got to be in and out before that happens."

"It's not yet dusk!"

"It'll be better if I go alone. One can slip in easier than two. You'll stay and…"

"No," said Norrington. "We'll go together or not at all. Let's get that door open."

Jack hesitated, but then nodded.

It was a matter of minutes before they got the door open, stiff at the hinges from little use. Norrington went through first, and Jack turned to their captives and shook his finger at them, saying in French, "You stay there and be quiet, my friends," and give them a wink, and a grin at their outraged looks and muffled curses before he too disappeared through the door.

They slipped around the perimeter of the vast lawns, edged with tropical shrubs and palms, disabling another sentry with easy efficiency before gaining a back entrance to the mansion.

Opening the door a crack, they found it was the kitchen, and a great bustle of activity was afoot.

"Dinnertime," Jack observed, watching longingly as the chef added a garland of herbs to a platter of roast meat. He reluctantly closed the door again, shutting off the delicious scents, and said, "There has to be another way in. Come on."

Keeping to the shadows, they worked their way around and finally found what they were looking for: a few steps down led to a cellar door, which, when they tried it, opened quite easily.

The next half hour was tense as they made their way silently into the house and began a stealthy search for Tussaud's donjon, which he'd been on about the last time Jack had been in this house. "Fair gave me the shivers, hearin' 'im speak of it as light as he did. Has a proper set of cells for holdin' 'is captives, and an oubliette for special guests."

"Good God," Norrington said, quite horrified. "We must get those boys with all speed!"

"Isn't that what we've been doin' then? Quiet now-or if you must speak be sure it's French: I think we're close, and there may be a sentry."

They had come down a dimly lit hallway, and around a corner at its end they could see a brighter light glowing. Approaching carefully, they peeked around and saw what they'd been looking for: a heavy wooden door at a dead end. The guard was a young man sitting in a chair, reading a book by the light of a good lantern. He had the chair tipped back against the wall, and was quite absorbed in his reading, but there was a drawn sword laid across his lap.

Jack gave one nod to Norrington and strode down the corridor toward the sentry at a moderate pace. The Commodore followed, close behind.

The young man looked up from his book at their approach and it was a moment before he realized they were strangers. He then jumped to his feet, dropping the book but retaining the sword, but instead of facing his foes he reached for a thin rope that hung nearly invisible against the stone wall.

"No!" yelped Jack, rushing him, but it was too late.

The sentry grabbed the rope and gave it one swift, hard pull, let it go and turned to face Jack and James as a peal of bells was heard faintly, on the floor above.

"Bloody hell!" Jack swore, and with a display of skill that startled Norrington and terrified his opponent, he attacked and disarmed the sentry with a few precise strokes of his sword, teeth bared with concentration. He concluded the engagement with a blow to the man's head that sent him reeling. Jack let James take care of tying the man's wrists while he tried the door, then looked for a key. None being visible, he turned to kneel by the dazed sentry and began checking his pockets.

"I don't have it," the man said, groggy but aware of Jack's purpose.

Jack grabbed the front of his shirt and shook him a little. "Where is it?" he demanded.

But Norrington, who'd got up, sword at the ready, said, "Too late. They're coming."

The sound of heavy feet on stone came to their ears, drawing quickly closer.

Trapped. Jack turned back to the sentry. "Sorry, my friend, but needs must, eh?" He set his sword at the man's throat, and Norrington, seeing what the pirate was about, came to stand beside him.

There were a half-dozen of them, and as they rounded the corner into the corridor, Jack yelled out, "Stay where you are, jackals, or I will slit the little one's throat!"

But the leader, a cruel-looking fellow, as tall as Norrington but far more muscular, barked, "Do it, then! Lads, have at them!"

With only the slightest pause, their enemies came on. Norrington's face drained of all emotion except deadly determination, but, for a moment, Jack's expression of horror was a mirror of his captive's. Then he shrugged, accepting the situation for what it was (their deaths, most likely), put a feral grin on his face, and set to work.

It was an interesting battle, for the ruffians were under orders to bring the intruders back alive and unharmed, if at all possible. Then there was the lack of space, some of which was taken up by the chair and the tied sentry on the floor, who kept trying to avoid heavy, booted feet and only succeeded in tripping up friend and foe alike. Jack and James both fought desperately, and managed to injure three of Tussaud's men, but finally the leader was able to stun James with a hamlike fist. Grabbing the shaken Commodore, the lout quickly rounded on Jack and, using Norrington as a kind of shield, slammed his body against the pirate. Jack lost his balance, hit the wall, and dropped his sword, much to his chagrin. Cursing his ill luck and his enemies with Gallic vehemence, Jack struggled furiously but was unable to retrieve his weapon before it was kicked out of his reach. Hard hands closed on him, and it was over.

"Well, my little cabbages," grinned the leader, when Jack and James were hauled up between two ruffians apiece, knives at their throats, "you have caused a great deal of trouble this evening, and during the dinner hour, too! Monsieur Tussaud will not be pleased. We shall repair to the dining room and see what he has in mind for such impolite guests, eh?"

The whole party made its way out of the narrow labyrinth of passages, the injured ruffians being relieved by a few of their comrades who'd come too late to the fray. Jack and James were not tied, but by the time they entered the enormous dining hall they each had three guards apiece, armed with a wide assortment of swords, knives, and pistols, and there were a number of Tussaud's men following them as well. There was no chance to exchange more than a glance but, having managed that, they were each aware that the other was more or less uninjured. Unfortunately, this did not look to hold true for much longer.

There were only a few diners, but the identities of three of their number were quite enough to make Jack's hair stand on end. Tussaud was there, looking older and more depraved than ever, his oily countenance adorned with cold little black eyes and a pitiless smile. Then there were two acquaintances from Jack's more recent past: the captain of the Vaillant, who was almost unrecognizable he'd grown so thin and sallow; and Beauvais, former master of Jack's valet Alphonse, his face pink with outrage.

Beauvais spoke first. "By all that's unholy! This is the loathsome criminal that took my belongings and nearly killed me! Everything! My valet, as well! You remember me telling you, Emile?"

"I remember, my friend. I've brought him here as a little gift for you, and for my brother-in-law." Tussaud nodded at the captain of the Vaillant and said to Jack, "Yes, Sparrow. You did not think to ask whom it was you so foolishly abused at the sinking of my ship, did you?"

"This is the wretch?" demanded the dark lady sitting next to Tussaud. She looked rather like him in certain ways, down to a faint moustache on her upper lip. "Voyons, Emile! I demand that you have him disembowled!"

"In good time, my love," said Tussaud. He said to Jack, with unctuous politeness, "My wife, Sparrow. Or should I call you 'Monsieur Oiseaux'?"

Madame Tussaud gobbled a bit and then swore foully. "It is him! The one who took my emeralds!"

"Yes, it is our so memorable dinner guest of years past. He has been long been in our debt, and, when I made the connection between him and your brother's and Beauvais' reports of the infamous Sparrow I felt it was time to invite him to enjoy our hospitality. Only for a few days, however, for I see he has brought a friend. Consorting with pirates, rather than killing them, these days, are you Commodore Norrington?"

Jack, startled, gaped over at Norrington.

The Commodore felt his friend's gaze, but wore his coolest look as he faced Tussaud and replied, "It seems there is another here who has more than one name, Gaillard."

Tussaud chuckled. "So you remember me from the reception. Yes, our so dear Governor here in Fort-de-France allows me to accompany him on various diplomatic excursions from time to time, though I prefer to keep that life and this separate. Hence, I am the Count Galliard in official circles, and Tussaud the merchant in the world of commerce."

"Tussaud the crime lord, ye mean!" snapped Jack. "That emerald necklace had gone missing from the DeVries family coffers years ago! And Beauvais' 'nearly killed' business is a pack of lies: he challenged me to a duel, all fair and above board. His lack of skill ain't my fault! And as for your brother-in-law, I don't know why he's lookin' so frayed at the edges but you can't lay that at my door: I only gave him a dozen lashes, when God knows he deserved the full extent of Moses Law, if not more! Five men died from his stupidity!"

"Enough!" Tussaud snapped, and gave a curt nod.

The burly head of the guards stepped over and drew Jack's head back, pressing a razor-sharp knife to the pirate's neck. A thin, red line appeared under the blade, and Jack stilled, eyes wide with both fear and anger, his teeth set.

Tussaud said, "Do not kill him, Vercheroux. He is not for you, or even for me. The Governor will be so very pleased to have a pair of English spies to question on his return."

"You will do nothing?" Madame Tussaud demanded of her husband, the nostrils of her aquiline nose flaring.

And Madame's brother exclaimed in a voice of loathing, "Emile, I must have my revenge! He had me flogged like some common scum!"

"Patience, my beloveds. And you, too, Beauvais, calm yourself: you look as though you will explode, which is not at all permissible at my dinner table." Tussaud turned to Jack again, and smiled. "You are a noisy bird, are you not? Your babbling is less than nothing, although I will tell you this: when you had my wife's brother's back torn to shreds and threw him into the sea you made your last great error. By the time he was returned to us, he was sick nearly to death from a poisoning of the blood. It is only recently he has been able to join us here at the table, but I am very happy he is with us this evening, when you, too, have joined us in so timely a manner. The taking of the young boys was such an excellent enticement, was it not?"

In spite of the knife at his throat, Jack growled, "Let them go, Tussaud. You have me. And the Commodore has done nothing!"

"He is with you: that is quite enough," Tussaud said, with deadly calm. "The boys will be sold, at the slave market. They should fetch a good price, as pretty as they are, don't you agree?" Tussaud, smiled wider. "As for you, my so bothersome bird, we have a few days to pluck some of your feathers, and so long as I turn you over alive the Governor will not mind." He turned to his brother-in-law and Beauvais. "Tomorrow morning, a hundred lashes, eh? Will that make a good beginning?"

Madame's brother nodded, finally smiling a little, and she herself sneered, and looked Jack over thoughtfully.

Beauvais looked a little sick. "It is very well, but…"

"You do not have to watch, my friend. I know the delicacy of your stomach."

Jack, quite numb with horror, found his voice. "A hundred! It's a death sentence!"

"Oh, no," Tussaud assured, gently, "We will take the greatest care not to let you die, I assure you. The Governor will undoubtedly oblige us in that regard, hein? For you have not only done injury to me and mine, Sparrow: the Governor's shipment of his favorite brandy was on the ship that carried my friend Beauvais. And some time ago the Governor's new cook, the renowned Anatole, went missing, and I have an idea you know something of this as well. No, the Governor will be most anxious to make your acquaintance, and that of your friend, the English Commodore." Tussaud, obviously enjoying himself, said, "But you will see that I am not without mercy. I will give you a night with the little boys, and you may tell them what they will be witness to on the morrow, eh? Vercheroux, take our guests and put them in the same cell. No need to tie them: no one has ever escaped Tussaud's embrace."

On to Chapter Thirteen