Old Friends, Old Enemies, Part two
Ok, warning on this chapter; this is not a Gillette-friendly story. I realize the error of my ways now, but I did not when I began to write this tale, and so Gillette came out rather evil. I promise that in future I will be more forgiving, but it’s too late for this one.
Lord Norville Buffington retired for the night as a guest in the Governor’s household. He entered his room, turned the key in the lock….. and stopped cold when he felt a pistol barrel at his head. He turned slowly, coming face to face with his eldest son, Frederick. His second-born held the pistol to his head. “Hello Father,” Frederick said almost conversationally. “It didn’t quite work, did it?” Lord Norville began to sweat.
“Now boys, let’s not be hasty,” he said nervously.
“Oh we’re not being hasty. We’ve thought this out for a long time, haven’t we Charles?” The younger nodded. “You were cagey, Father, but not cagey enough. But before you go, we’ll honor your last wishes. You see, you’re not the only one who’s become inconvenient.” The last thing Lord Norville Buffington ever saw was a standard naval-issue sword approaching…..
Commodore Norrington looked up from his desk the next morning with a start when a contingent of his own troops burst through his door. “What - “he began, rising to his feet. The men surrounded him, brandishing bayonets. Norrington watched as Gillette came up through the men, carrying what Norrington recognized as a warrant. Gillette smirked insufferably, even as James frowned.
“What is the meaning of this?” Norrington asked furiously.
“You are under arrest for the murder of Lord Norville Buffington, who was found dead this morning in the Governor’s house. Take him away.” James stared in disbelieving shock at his former subordinate, then in burning hatred. He had never been fond of Gillette, and now he knew why; the man was a traitor! He shook off his men’s hands and took a step forward.
“You,” he breathed. “You treacherous - “ he never got any farther, as at that moment Gillette signaled and the troops laid hold of Norrington again, this time rather forcibly, and dragged him away.
\Later that night\
James Norrington sat in the Fort Charles jail, fully appreciating for the very first time how truly uncomfortable a cell really was. The story had filtered down to him eventually; Lord Norville Buffington had been found with James’s old sword buried up to the hilt in him, stone cold dead. Norrington had never liked the man, but he had certainly never wanted him murdered! It was preposterous, unthinkable! And yet the Governor had certainly been ready enough to believe it, swallowing Gillette’s lies hook line and sinker. Norrington sank down in the cell, raking a hand through his hair. He would probably hang in the morning; no trial was given when the “facts” pointed so obviously to one man.
He huddled in the shadows when the guard passed, not willing to endure their stares, as if he were some rare beast in a cage that none of them had ever seen before. He clenched his teeth against a wave of self-pity that washed over him. No! He would not sit here like some tame animal waiting to be led to the slaughter! What would Turner or Sparrow or even his own brother do? He moved to the door, intent on making some sort of attempt at an escape.
“Commodore!” The voice came from the window, familiar and more welcome than Norrington was willing to admit.
“Sparrow?”
“Hush, you want to bring them running?”
“Sparrow, what are you doing here? Do you have a death wish?”
“Well, unless you were planning on taking up permanent residence, I’m here to get you out. Now listen. In a minute, all hell’s going to break loose. You’re going to sit tight and wait. I’ll be in shortly to fetch you out.” Norrington was caught between wanting to laugh in relief and protesting as survival instincts warred with duty in his mind. In the end, survival instincts won out and he nodded in the darkness.
“Very well,” he replied. Jack was gone in a shuffling noise of feet. A moment later, a large explosion rocked the building from somewhere to the North. Norrington winced, thinking of the damage to the city. This port had only just recovered from the last time Jack Sparrow was here. The guards went running past as loud shouts echoed from outside. Running feet could be heard from the upper levels of the fort and dust fell down from the ceiling, causing James to cough. There was a moment’s silence, then another explosion. The fort was now totally empty, James was sure of it, and apparently Jack was too, for the pirate came down the stairs to the jail two at a time a moment later. He was still dressed in his attire of the night before, having left his other clothing on the Pearl. Norrington gawked, hardly able to believe his eyes. “You were at the wedding last night?”
“Didn’t think I’d miss it did you? Stand back, don’t want you getting hit.” Jack drew his pistol, pointed it at the lock, and fired. Norrington did not have time to exclaim any further; he emerged from the cell a moment later, grabbing his sword and pistol and stripping off his naval jacket, realizing regretfully that he would probably not be needing it wherever he was going. They left the fort a few moments later, completely unnoticed.
James had never felt more strange in his life. In one day’s time he had gone from being the highly respected Commander of the entirety of Port Royal’s military force to being a hunted fugitive, hiding in the shadows from the men who had up till today been his allies. A shout from the fort signaled that his escape had been noticed and began the chase in earnest. Jack led him through the twisting, turning streets, carefully avoiding the jingle and beat of the soldiers. There was a nervous moment when a dog began to bark; James discovered quickly just how exhaustive the pirate captain’s knowledge of Port Royal was in the wild run that followed, as they ducked through stables and streets that Norrington had not known existed.
“Why are you doing this?” Norrington asked at one point, panting from the run.
“Because when Elizabeth Turner asks a favor, you don’t ignore it, and because if you did kill Buffington, you deserve a medal,” Jack replied. Norrington regarded Jack with a confused stare for a moment but the pirate offered no further explanation. His sun-darkened face was uncommonly serious; for some reason, that was not as reassuring as it should have been. Jack signaled with his hand and they were off again through Port Royal’s darkened streets.
They reached the Turner’s new residence just in time to miss a contingent of soldiers who had been sent to search for the missing Commodore. Will met them at the door, lantern in hand. “Come in here, hurry.” In a low voice he added, ”Explosions, Jack?” Jack shrugged.
“You asked for a distraction; you never said what kind, mate.” Will rolled his eyes in exasperation and turned to Norrington. He inspected the man for a long moment; James looked ten years older than he had the previous day, lines of fatigue and worry etched on his face along with a disbelieving, hunted expression. He was lightly coated in prison grime and dust and the proud man's shoulders slumped slightly.
“Are you alright, Commodore?”
“As well as can be expected, yes,” Norrington replied. “Thank you.”
“This way then. We haven’t much time, they’ll be back.”
Elizabeth rose from where she had been waiting at the table to greet Norrington with a sisterly hug. “James, thank God.” Norrington returned the embrace briefly and then turned away to follow Will. In no time at all, Norrington was dressed in one of Will’s old vest and shirt arrangements with loose-fitting trousers and his own boots. His wig and hat were left behind, discarded in favor of his own dark hair that stuck out less. Will saw them off, pausing to look at his friend for a long moment.
“We’ll clear your name. You worry about keeping yourself alive until I can send word with someone reliable.”
“For God’s sake don’t send Gillette then,” James replied. “I don’t know who’s paying him but he’s with them. Don’t trust him.” Will frowned and nodded.
“Good luck then, Commodore. Jack - “
“I’ll look after him, don’t worry, whelp.” With that they were gone out the door and back onto the streets.
Jack hardly knew what had hit him; one moment he was running through an alleyway near the harbor and the next he was looking into the very frightened eyes of the woman who had just run into him. There was a shout from the house from which she had come, and a tall man emerged, limping slightly. Gunshots rang out; Jack pushed the girl away, towards Norrington and some small amount of safety, and fired only one return shot before running after the others.
They halted at the edge of town. Norrington took the young woman by the shoulders gently in an attempt to reassure; he drew back in surprise when he realized who he was holding.
“Miss Eaton?” Norrington asked incredulously. Jack frowned.
“What are you doing here love?” he asked bluntly.
“Coming with you,” she answered.
“Oh no you’re not,” Jack started to say. Helena’s eyes flashed, a very deep shade of blue.
“If I don’t, it’s my life and possibly his as well!” she replied. “I know who really murdered Lord Buffington, and they don’t want me to tell; you’ve just seen that.” Jack appraised her for one moment before answering.
“Alright. Hurry up then, they’re coming.”
Whew! Long chapter for me! So now that I’ve done all this work, I’d like to see some profit in reviews, savvy?
Lord Norville Buffington retired for the night as a guest in the Governor’s household. He entered his room, turned the key in the lock….. and stopped cold when he felt a pistol barrel at his head. He turned slowly, coming face to face with his eldest son, Frederick. His second-born held the pistol to his head. “Hello Father,” Frederick said almost conversationally. “It didn’t quite work, did it?” Lord Norville began to sweat.
“Now boys, let’s not be hasty,” he said nervously.
“Oh we’re not being hasty. We’ve thought this out for a long time, haven’t we Charles?” The younger nodded. “You were cagey, Father, but not cagey enough. But before you go, we’ll honor your last wishes. You see, you’re not the only one who’s become inconvenient.” The last thing Lord Norville Buffington ever saw was a standard naval-issue sword approaching…..
Commodore Norrington looked up from his desk the next morning with a start when a contingent of his own troops burst through his door. “What - “he began, rising to his feet. The men surrounded him, brandishing bayonets. Norrington watched as Gillette came up through the men, carrying what Norrington recognized as a warrant. Gillette smirked insufferably, even as James frowned.
“What is the meaning of this?” Norrington asked furiously.
“You are under arrest for the murder of Lord Norville Buffington, who was found dead this morning in the Governor’s house. Take him away.” James stared in disbelieving shock at his former subordinate, then in burning hatred. He had never been fond of Gillette, and now he knew why; the man was a traitor! He shook off his men’s hands and took a step forward.
“You,” he breathed. “You treacherous - “ he never got any farther, as at that moment Gillette signaled and the troops laid hold of Norrington again, this time rather forcibly, and dragged him away.
\Later that night\
James Norrington sat in the Fort Charles jail, fully appreciating for the very first time how truly uncomfortable a cell really was. The story had filtered down to him eventually; Lord Norville Buffington had been found with James’s old sword buried up to the hilt in him, stone cold dead. Norrington had never liked the man, but he had certainly never wanted him murdered! It was preposterous, unthinkable! And yet the Governor had certainly been ready enough to believe it, swallowing Gillette’s lies hook line and sinker. Norrington sank down in the cell, raking a hand through his hair. He would probably hang in the morning; no trial was given when the “facts” pointed so obviously to one man.
He huddled in the shadows when the guard passed, not willing to endure their stares, as if he were some rare beast in a cage that none of them had ever seen before. He clenched his teeth against a wave of self-pity that washed over him. No! He would not sit here like some tame animal waiting to be led to the slaughter! What would Turner or Sparrow or even his own brother do? He moved to the door, intent on making some sort of attempt at an escape.
“Commodore!” The voice came from the window, familiar and more welcome than Norrington was willing to admit.
“Sparrow?”
“Hush, you want to bring them running?”
“Sparrow, what are you doing here? Do you have a death wish?”
“Well, unless you were planning on taking up permanent residence, I’m here to get you out. Now listen. In a minute, all hell’s going to break loose. You’re going to sit tight and wait. I’ll be in shortly to fetch you out.” Norrington was caught between wanting to laugh in relief and protesting as survival instincts warred with duty in his mind. In the end, survival instincts won out and he nodded in the darkness.
“Very well,” he replied. Jack was gone in a shuffling noise of feet. A moment later, a large explosion rocked the building from somewhere to the North. Norrington winced, thinking of the damage to the city. This port had only just recovered from the last time Jack Sparrow was here. The guards went running past as loud shouts echoed from outside. Running feet could be heard from the upper levels of the fort and dust fell down from the ceiling, causing James to cough. There was a moment’s silence, then another explosion. The fort was now totally empty, James was sure of it, and apparently Jack was too, for the pirate came down the stairs to the jail two at a time a moment later. He was still dressed in his attire of the night before, having left his other clothing on the Pearl. Norrington gawked, hardly able to believe his eyes. “You were at the wedding last night?”
“Didn’t think I’d miss it did you? Stand back, don’t want you getting hit.” Jack drew his pistol, pointed it at the lock, and fired. Norrington did not have time to exclaim any further; he emerged from the cell a moment later, grabbing his sword and pistol and stripping off his naval jacket, realizing regretfully that he would probably not be needing it wherever he was going. They left the fort a few moments later, completely unnoticed.
James had never felt more strange in his life. In one day’s time he had gone from being the highly respected Commander of the entirety of Port Royal’s military force to being a hunted fugitive, hiding in the shadows from the men who had up till today been his allies. A shout from the fort signaled that his escape had been noticed and began the chase in earnest. Jack led him through the twisting, turning streets, carefully avoiding the jingle and beat of the soldiers. There was a nervous moment when a dog began to bark; James discovered quickly just how exhaustive the pirate captain’s knowledge of Port Royal was in the wild run that followed, as they ducked through stables and streets that Norrington had not known existed.
“Why are you doing this?” Norrington asked at one point, panting from the run.
“Because when Elizabeth Turner asks a favor, you don’t ignore it, and because if you did kill Buffington, you deserve a medal,” Jack replied. Norrington regarded Jack with a confused stare for a moment but the pirate offered no further explanation. His sun-darkened face was uncommonly serious; for some reason, that was not as reassuring as it should have been. Jack signaled with his hand and they were off again through Port Royal’s darkened streets.
They reached the Turner’s new residence just in time to miss a contingent of soldiers who had been sent to search for the missing Commodore. Will met them at the door, lantern in hand. “Come in here, hurry.” In a low voice he added, ”Explosions, Jack?” Jack shrugged.
“You asked for a distraction; you never said what kind, mate.” Will rolled his eyes in exasperation and turned to Norrington. He inspected the man for a long moment; James looked ten years older than he had the previous day, lines of fatigue and worry etched on his face along with a disbelieving, hunted expression. He was lightly coated in prison grime and dust and the proud man's shoulders slumped slightly.
“Are you alright, Commodore?”
“As well as can be expected, yes,” Norrington replied. “Thank you.”
“This way then. We haven’t much time, they’ll be back.”
Elizabeth rose from where she had been waiting at the table to greet Norrington with a sisterly hug. “James, thank God.” Norrington returned the embrace briefly and then turned away to follow Will. In no time at all, Norrington was dressed in one of Will’s old vest and shirt arrangements with loose-fitting trousers and his own boots. His wig and hat were left behind, discarded in favor of his own dark hair that stuck out less. Will saw them off, pausing to look at his friend for a long moment.
“We’ll clear your name. You worry about keeping yourself alive until I can send word with someone reliable.”
“For God’s sake don’t send Gillette then,” James replied. “I don’t know who’s paying him but he’s with them. Don’t trust him.” Will frowned and nodded.
“Good luck then, Commodore. Jack - “
“I’ll look after him, don’t worry, whelp.” With that they were gone out the door and back onto the streets.
Jack hardly knew what had hit him; one moment he was running through an alleyway near the harbor and the next he was looking into the very frightened eyes of the woman who had just run into him. There was a shout from the house from which she had come, and a tall man emerged, limping slightly. Gunshots rang out; Jack pushed the girl away, towards Norrington and some small amount of safety, and fired only one return shot before running after the others.
They halted at the edge of town. Norrington took the young woman by the shoulders gently in an attempt to reassure; he drew back in surprise when he realized who he was holding.
“Miss Eaton?” Norrington asked incredulously. Jack frowned.
“What are you doing here love?” he asked bluntly.
“Coming with you,” she answered.
“Oh no you’re not,” Jack started to say. Helena’s eyes flashed, a very deep shade of blue.
“If I don’t, it’s my life and possibly his as well!” she replied. “I know who really murdered Lord Buffington, and they don’t want me to tell; you’ve just seen that.” Jack appraised her for one moment before answering.
“Alright. Hurry up then, they’re coming.”
Whew! Long chapter for me! So now that I’ve done all this work, I’d like to see some profit in reviews, savvy?