The Departure of the Dauntless


"So this is where your heart truly lies, then?"

He could hardly speak these words, simple as they were. His heart felt like surely breaking, his bow-tie seemed to cut his breathing, but surrounded by dozens of officers, the Governor, Elizabeth and – that boy, he had no chance but to appear as composed and orderly as he could ever be. The Head of a Royal Navy Corps couldn't just lose control like another man might perhaps have done in the same situation, regardless of the fact that he felt too petrified to move anyway.

Elizabeth bit her lip and replied slowly, "It is."

He knew this movement so well; she always bit her lip when she was embarrassed, and all he could do was slightly beckoning at her. Her cheeks had coloured delicately, her eyes were wide and she wore an expression of genuine concern and he couldn't help it but stare at her. Elizabeth –

In this moment, that would certainly make the records as the worst of his whole life, he was, ironically, enough saved by Jack Sparrow. That man's clowning about spared him the sight of Elizabeth's enraptured gaze at the Turner boy, as Sparrow approached and told him that he had always meant to be 'rooting' for him, the Commodore – whatever this was supposed to mean. Hardly five seconds later, Sparrow had fallen down the cliff and James Norrington was staring after him, still fully incapable to bring his mind in order. He could only look at Sparrow, down in the bay, at the ship that had appeared out of nowhere to save him, and though James tried his best to pull himself together, he simply couldn't do much more than compose his features to appear calm, speak one or two words to Turner and set off as quickly as possible. He heard Gillette's voice behind him, imploring his Commander what was to be done about Sparrow, and pulled himself together to give his officer a faint smile and say, "Well, I think we can afford to give him one day's head start."

He had to get away from this place, he had to reach his quarters and bar the door before grasping another rational thought. Elizabeth…

Commodore James Norrington was no man to easily lose his composure, and most certainly, he would never do so in front of anybody's eyes to witness such a meltdown. He also had a justified reputation to be neither a drunkard nor a whiner, but who could have blamed him on this day? He marched to his rooms with all due dignity, shut the door in Gillette's face, locked it up and headed right for the bottle of Rum in the cabinet. One glass of Rum might clarify his view, the second stop his heart from hammering like a drum, and half a bottle must safely have some soothing effects about everything else, right?

He hated the taste of it, the burning in his throat was nothing compared to the burning in his eyes, but without hesitation, he swallowed three glasses in quick succession before sitting down. Elizabeth – his fiancée – had just declared her love for the Turner boy, had she? Yes, without a doubt, she had. And he, James Norrington had given her free, had he? It would appear so, despite the daze that was enclosing him. He had a brief notion of pride; if there was one thing he could be content with, it had to be his reaction to this part. He checked himself – no, there was nothing to be ashamed of in there. The love of his life might have agonised and deserted him, but not his self-control. Well, this was obviously the only gratifying aspect in a sea of bitter sadness about everything else.

He truly loved Elizabeth, he had loved her for so many years, she was more to him than any other person or thing in the world. He would have done literally everything for her. They had been engaged for roughly three weeks, although he had proposed to her some time ago, and in two weeks, they should have been going to actually marry at last. Two weeks! He couldn't say whether he should be pleased or desperate about it. In two weeks, she would have been his wife forever; he would have possessed her hand, but not her heart. He sneered to himself and found that it would take him some more Rum and time to think it a lucky circumstance that their ways had parted before their hands were joined at last.

He was a sensible man of thirty-one years, and he knew that a heart could never be taken, only given voluntarily. If Elizabeth had chosen to give hers to somebody else, there was nothing he could do about it, and he firmly scolded himself not to lament, for her sake as much as his own. He had wanted not much more than being allowed to make her happy. Well, clearly, she was happy now.

The Rum wasn't able to dim his perception in this case. He had known that she hadn't been in love with him; he had asked her to be his wife nevertheless. Somehow, he had clung to the hope that she would accustom to him, that she could learn to love him. Obviously never as much as he loved her, but he hadn't minded. In fact, it would have stricken him as rather odd to think that – because his own feelings for the young lady were so strong that they could impossibly be matched.

What he had utterly failed to realise was that she could have given her love to someone else. The Turner boy – no, it had never occurred to him that she could be serious about him. A boy of nineteen years, her mate from childhood days; that he had fancied her had been evident to anyone with eyes to see, but vice versa? How could he have been so incredibly foolish not to notice? She had agreed to marry him for the purpose of saving the Turner boy, but still, this hadn't rung a bell with the Commodore. He had owned it to her sense of justice, to her fondness for an old friend, and the small doubt he had had on that occasion, she had dispersed by stating what a 'fine man' he, James Norrington, was. He had been satisfied with this remark; actually, he had been so thoroughly happy with it that he would instantly have rowed to the end of the world just to prove her his worthiness of such praise.

But in the end, Elizabeth hadn't wanted a 'fine man' but a 'pirate', she hadn't wanted to be a 'fine woman' herself, but a romantic pirate's bride. He smirked with that notion, really. Elizabeth was only eighteen, and he had been aware of her great romantic inclination, all the embarrassing novels she would secretly read. He should have known that she simply wasn't the type to content herself with a marriage based on prudence. That she couldn't be truly happy with a man that did not set her heart on fire. He had known that he never had.

Why – how – could he have been this blind? As rational as he had ever been in every other respect, why had he been so grossly mistaken in assuming that a girl like her could accept a man like him? They weren't meant for each other, no matter what it looked like on first sight. Because on first sight, they had been designed for each other. He was the most powerful man in Port Royal, even more powerful than her own father, he had achieved rank and fame early in life, could command a handsome fortune to call his own, and was the second son of a family of nobility. She was the Governor's daughter, of equal birth and similar fortune, unspeakably beautiful and the loveliest creature in the whole Caribbean. Her father had spotted those parallels instantly and had always promoted a possible engagement. But similarities of position or money were of little importance when matters of the heart were concerned, weren't they? She had proven that she gave nothing for consequence when choosing a simple blacksmith; she didn't care that he hardly owned a purse to put in the money that he hadn't got. It was of no importance.

The Turner boy… For some minutes, James Norrington cursed to have ever fished the boy out of the Ocean eight years ago, but that was nonsense. For a start – hadn't it been this boy, it would have been somebody else, the handsome apprentice of Mr. Coyle, the cobbler, maybe. But never him, the mighty Commodore. What was more – such an act, nay, the sheer idea in itself, simply wasn't like him – he would never have left a little boy to his fate, only to secure his own personal felicity, even if he had known back then how things would turn out eventually. No, this wasn't Will Turner's fault, or Elizabeth's, and even he himself wasn't too much to blame. It was no one's fault; he loved a woman who did not love him back. The oldest story in the book, and no living being to be reproached for it.

He tried to get his head clear, to understand everything that had just happened before his eyes. Sparrow had escaped – not to worry, they would catch him again. They always had. He had escaped because that Turner boy had saved him from the gallows. Admirable technique, incidentally – that throw had been incredible, not even James Norrington, in this of all nights, could deny it. They had caught the both of them, due to the Commodore's own wise planning, yes. And then…? Elizabeth had suddenly appeared, had placed herself at the side of Turner and Sparrow – in a way, that was only natural, she was young and idealistic, and she had strongly opposed Sparrow's execution in the first place. But James couldn't fool himself there. It hadn't simply been her sense of justice that had made her go.

He drained another glass of Rum. Oh boy. He wasn't used to drinking, so he ought to be soundly drunk after half a bottle, but the only thing happening was that he was even more sick than before. He had lost Elizabeth for good, no Rum could change that, nothing and no one could do anything about it. At least, he tried to console himself, at least he wouldn't have to watch the happy couple. He'd be on sea, aboard the Dauntless that had never let him down. He would do what he was best at. Pursuing and capturing dangerous fugitives. Yes. Maybe that was just his lot in life. Maybe he simply ought to stick to his job. He hadn't been promoted to impress young ladies, but to serve the King and do so fully, with all his heart, all the commitment he was capable of. Yes.

Another sip of Rum might just enforce that resolution, he thought, but instead, he simply passed out. Which was lucky, for the last thoughts of James Norrington before finally falling asleep weren't about his sure-coming headaches, but about lovely Elizabeth, the love of his life that he had lost, if one could lose somebody that one never had got to begin with. This comatose oblivion saved him from his heartache for some hours at least.

In the next morning, Gillette woke him up before dawn to get ready for their task at hand, and despite his awfully throbbing headaches, James had at least slept a couple of hours. Count your blessings, boy, he thought to himself and put on his uniform. It was going to be a long day, followed by countless other long and exhausting days until they'd have tracked down Sparrow. In his present state of mind, he was in no hurry to reach that goal; the longer he was away, the better.

Unlike the Commodore, Elizabeth Swann, the object of all his woes, hadn't managed to close her eyes all night. Too excited she had been, too thrilled by everything that had happened, happy beyond expression for having ascertained Will's regard for her after all, and feeling more than just slightly guilty for – well – because of that thing with James. She knew that he didn't deserve to be treated in such fashion, she knew that his attachment to her was real and heart-felt, and to top it all, he had even proven his superiority by giving her free without any further ado. There was no hypocrisy there; she truly wished she could have spared him the disappointment; she wished she hadn't done the things she had done, like becoming engaged to him even though her heart hadn't been in it.

All right, she had accepted his proposal in order to save Will and she did not regret this. But she knew James. She knew that she could have just asked him to do her this favour, he would have acquiesced out of pure regard and kindness if she had given him the chance. Instead, she had brought on the subject of marriage, and when he had asked her if she was serious, she had not recanted, but deceived him most despicably. All her felicity could not make her more lenient against herself on this head. She was to blame, she had acted very wrongly, very wrongly indeed, and not even her utter bliss could make her forget her shameful conduct.

To calm her poor father, she had agreed to have an early breakfast with him. Deadly tired as she was, she still got up and sat down at the breakfast table opposite of him, drinking too much coffee and unable to eat anything. Who could think of eating when there was so much to dwell upon? Right after breakfast, she'd go down to the town and see her lovely fiancé, to repeat all these vows of love of the previous day, to get lost in those beautiful brown eyes, to give in to all the gushing that she felt and had for so long kept only to herself.

It was a startling bright morning in Port Royal, the sun was blazing down with might, and as violently radiating as the sunbeams was Elisabeth Swann's mood. She shielded her eyes against the gloriously bright light, while dully beaming at her father, not grasping anything of what he was saying, because her thoughts were just too happily engaged elsewhere.

"Elizabeth, dear, are you even listening?"

"Hm? Forgive me, Father…?"

"Darling," the Governor began anew, "I had hoped you would rethink your decision. I can easily imagine that you got carried away by yesterday's events, but seriously –"

"Seriously I'm quite determined to rethink nothing at all, Father." She smiled sweetly. "And why should I?"

"My dear child, as you well know there's nothing more important to me than seeing you happy. If you hadn't fled from the Dauntless that night, you would have heard me advising you to undo your engagement to the Commodore if you had committed yourself for the wrong reasons. Which you obviously had. You see, I'm not unreasonable. But I beg you, please consider your future! That boy that you intend to marry, he – I won't mention that he is a blacksmith – he cannot afford to marry you within the next five, perhaps eight years!"

Elisabeth scarcely listened to her father, her mind was set on far more pleasant things than that, but she had overheard his last words, and replied cheerfully, "Yes, I know that!"

"And yet you are willing to commit yourself to an engagement of such uncertainty? All I ask for is that you contemplate the extent of such a hardship –"

"I've waited for it eight years already, Father, I think I will be able to wait some more, now that I know that he is as attached to me as I have always been to him!"

"But Elizabeth, be sensible, please! It isn't too late yet, you know, and everything can be done without any inconveniences to yourself. I could talk to the young man and tell him –"

"You'll do no such thing, Father! Honestly, what are you saying there! If you were serious about your wish to see me happy, you wouldn't propose any such thing! I could never be happy without Will, he is my everything!"

Governor Swann took a deep breath but suppressed a sigh. "My dear, when you think of the life that the good Commodore could have offered you –"

"I thought you had said that I shouldn't have accepted James anyway, since my decision was made for the wrong reasons?"

"Obviously, my dear. But right now, I'm not talking about Commodore Norrington – please, try to address him by his proper title, will you? You're no longer his – anyway. What I was talking about is the undeniable fact that young Mr Turner will never be able to maintain the sort of living you deserve. I don't mean to talk you into marrying the Commodore, but you should contemplate another man of his rank and situation in life. Look at it, Elizabeth, you haven't seen much of the world but Port Royal. I feel it would do you good to go to England for some time, or at least Nassau Port, you could see your Uncle Clarence –"

"You want to send me away?!"

"Not at all, my darling! All I'm saying is that you might benefit from a change of scenery," he said as harmlessly as he could. He loved his daughter more than anything in this world, he wanted to keep her from all harm. His worries concerning her plans of an unequal marriage resulted not so much from condescension, but genuine sympathy for both her and her new fiancé. Back in England, he knew a couple of people who had ventured to unequal marriages, and none, none of them had done well with their choices. It was always the same; the partner who lowered themselves got disappointed, while the other spouse became frustrated and depressed.

Elizabeth was mortified with the mere suggestion of removing her from Port Royal and Governor Swann made no further attempt for the time being. Thinking of his brother-in-law Clarence, who was a vicar in Nassau Port, an idea had suddenly darted through his usually lazy mind, an idea that seemed brilliant. If he could manage to usher Elizabeth out of Port Royal for a start…

The girl's mind had meanwhile returned to more pleasant thoughts, too. How wonderful was Will Turner? Could there be words to describe him? How brave he was! What a fabulous swordsman! And those beautiful, beautiful eyes! His sweet smile, those black curls, and so very handsome! She had fancied him for so long, and now he was finally her own Will. She had hoped for this since she was fifteen or so. Longer even, possibly.

She gave a start when seeing her father in full ornate, looking quizzical. Oh, the Dauntless was to sail away – she had almost forgotten! "Oh yes, yes, I'm ready!"

Her surprise had spared her the decision, for in fact, she didn't really want to go. She dreaded to meet the man with whom she had been engaged until yesterday, but she knew it was her duty to say goodbye to him still. Firstly: out of habit, she had accompanied her father on such occasions ever since she was twelve and it would look odd if she didn't go today of all days. Secondly, she was well aware that it was partly her fault that Jack had managed to escape, which was the reason for the Dauntless to set after them. And thirdly, she wasn't entirely void of good breeding or gratefulness, rather the opposite. She knew that she owed all her present happiness to James Norrington's generosity, and strictly speaking, she owed him more than just courtesy.

They went down to the harbour by carriage, and Elisabeth felt increasingly nervous. What should she say? What could possibly reconcile the Commodore? Wasn't it far more likely that he should hate to see her, after being slighted in such fashion? But now it was too late, and clearly, her father thought it her duty, too, so all she could do was trying her best. It was already hot, though not nine o'clock yet, and both the heat and her tension made her use her fan. A fan was a marvellous invention, as it gave young ladies the possibility to hide their faces when there was nothing else to be done, and she set all her hopes in it now.

They got out of the carriage, and in the bare sunlight, Elisabeth was even more dizzy, faintly congratulating herself for not wearing a corset, but there he was, and more urgent necessities preoccupied her. He made a bow towards her father. "Good morning, Governor Swann –"

"Good morning, Commodore Norrington," he replied. The Commodore made another bow.

"Good morning, Miss Swann."

She curtseyed and averted her face. "Good morning, Commodore Norrington –"

Luckily her father, apparently perfectly unaware of his daughter's awkwardness, saved her for the moment by crying cheerfully, "I see you are ready to set sails, Commodore. I shall hope that you're not to stay away for too long?"

"Long enough, Sir," was the subdued reply, "We shall not return to Port Royal before achieving our aims, and as we've seen, Captain Sparrow is a shrewd man when it comes to escaping."

"Well, when you hang him, make sure to do it elsewhere – apparently he's too lucky in Port Royal!"

Elisabeth blushed fiercely with this remark, which hadn't been given in any sense of a guilty conscience. Her father obviously did not feel the least responsible for either Jack Sparrow's lucky escape, or rather his daughter's contribution in it. The Commodore smirked sourly. "No, he clearly has too many friends here, but I'm not afraid that he will get what he deserves in the end, Sir."

"Of course!" Governor Swann smiled complacently. "I have all faith in your capabilities!"

He asked the Commodore for a private word and they wandered away some steps, while Elizabeth sauntered along the pier and took a look at the Dauntless. The ship was rustling with sailors scurrying about, making some last preparations for their trip, but she hardly had eyes for all the commotion. Her mind was set on the conversation before her; she knew she had to make apologies to her former fiancé, it was only right and since she had come down to the harbour, there was no way around it without making it all worse.

The Dauntless was a majestic ship, fabricated for Commodore Norrington especially. He had partaken in designing it and it did him credit; Elizabeth knew her way with ships. Her old governess Miss Brody had often lamented her laziness in her studies, but she hadn't known how much her pupil had read after all. Miss Brody would have deemed those books a very unsuitable lecture for a young lady. There had been all those books about pirates, of course, then there were all these romance novels, and living in a Caribbean Navy hamlet, she had also informed herself about seafaring, partly because it went hand in hand with her interest in pirates, partly because the only library in Port Royal chiefly boasted naval books.

The Dauntless had no fancy trimmings like other flagships; it was quite casual, similar to the Interceptor, which had been James' design, too. The Interceptor… Well, she was irretrievably lost. And one could say that this was Elizabeth's fault, too. Well, not exclusively her fault. It hadn't been her to commandeer it, but she had been the reason for the theft. And it had been her idea to try and engage the Black Pearl in combat, which had lead to the Interceptor's total destruction. James had taken the blow quite well – he had smirked wryly, swallowed and murmured that he'd prefer to rather think of his ship at the bottom of the ocean than in the hands of pirates.

With one ship sunk and the other at sea, Port Royal was in a very defensive position, so Elizabeth assumed that they'd get a replacement soon. Admiral Thompson in Nassau Port was pretty proud with his Eastern division, so he could hardly deny them anything. The king himself had sent a recommendation after James had captured some particularly dangerous looters who had preyed on a couple of islands nearby, but who had never dared to come to Port Royal because of the Commodore.

The two men returned and James Norrington said goodbye to Elizabeth, but she shook her head. "Please, Sir, do you have a moment?"

"Anytime," was his reply, but he didn't look at her, and her heart was sinking.

"Commodore Norrington," she began quietly, "I wish to explain to you – you must know why I… You see, I have the highest regard for you, I really have, and I want you to know that I received your – offers with all gratitude that could be felt by any woman –"

"Miss Swann," he interrupted her; she was still averting her face. "You need not explain yourself. I have understood, and I hope you know that you are free to do whatever you think right for yourself!"

"I cannot but thank you for that, Commodore. Please, you must know that I never meant to hurt you. I don't seem to deserve your affection but –"

"You deserve any man's affection, Miss Swann." He gave her a wry little smile and continued in a tone that he probably meant to sound nothing but friendly, but which hurt Elizabeth all the more. "What is left for me to hope is that you shall be thoroughly happy with your choice. Truly, I mean it – I wish you all the best."

She wasn't able to answer that, ready to sink from agitation – no corset was needed in this instance. Why couldn't he be mad with her? It would all be so much easier if he treated her less friendly!

"You are what any woman dreams about to marry, and I sincerely hope that you will find a woman matching you in worthiness, James… You've shown true greatness yesterday, I can't tell you how grateful I am! I want you to know, I didn't lie to you back then on the Dauntless, you are a fine man and I would have married you if you had wished that still. I want you to know that I didn't lie!"

She had meant no harm when assuring him this, but seeing his pained expression, she wanted to eat her own words. He closed his eyes for a second, inclined his head a little and replied very quietly, "Thank you very much, Miss Swann. If it is of any solace to you – I didn't think you were a liar. And you need not thank me for undoing the… for letting you free. You should marry the person you love and nobody else. And I should marry a lady who actually wants to be my wife with all her heart."

"Oh James, you –"

"Forgive me, Miss Swann, but I really must go," he interrupted her hoarsely. "I wish you all luck. Good bye."

"You mustn't run away so quickly, please! Look, my father hasn't even finished the inspection yet! And on the whole – is it really necessary that you – well –"

"I know that my enterprise isn't making you any happy, Miss Swann; I hope you can forgive me for that, but I do serve the crown, and cannot neglect my duties. Jack Sparrow is a pirate, and it is my job to capture him, no matter how sore this makes those worrying for him!"

"No, Commodore," she answered weakly, "I know that. You and he both saved my life, so my prayers must be that you return without success, but healthy and uninjured."

He smiled wryly. "You do care for him, don't you?"

"Oh, I think he needs somebody taking care, as he is utterly careless himself!" She mastered her best smile. "He is a good person, Commodore, may he be a pirate. You know how he took Nassau Port without firing a single shot – does such a man deserve the gallows?"

"As it is, King Charles in his colonies does not punish only pirates with death, but robbers as well, Miss Swann. He might be no pirate in your books, but surely he is a robber!"

"Ah, he is a pirate in my books, without a doubt. In fact I'd say he is a pirate like the books write about – or rather say, his spirit is, if not his manners!"

He bowed once more and laughed. "Then you perhaps should write a book about Jack Sparrow, Miss Swann! So our king can read it and make up his mind how to deal with such peculiar fellows!"

"I should hurry then, as I must assume that you shall find him very soon," she replied in an equally playful voice, relieved to have entered a less grave level.

He raised his brows. "No need to worry! After sinking the Interceptor to the bottom of the sea, Jack Sparrow has a good chance to flee us. The Dauntless is strong and nigh invincible, but she is comparably slow. Considering that Captain Sparrow is a man of cunning, I expect him to have mended his sails, rendering the Black Pearl to be one of the fastest ships in these waters!"

"So you have no hope of a soon comeback?"

The smile disappeared and he avoided looking at her. "No, I haven't, and what should I come back for anyway? The longer our hunt will take, the better for me. You and your father will meet my deputy, Captain Filister, and I assure you, he is a man of merit and skills. You will hardly notice my absence; actually I'm inclined to believe that you may come to appreciate it."

She lowered her gaze, blushing and sighing, "I cannot imagine that, Commodore! An old friend like you cannot be replaced by another, merit or not!"

He opened his mouth, but shut it in the next moment and shrugged. She knew what he had been about to say, and thanked him silently for his tact. She had already replaced him once – how should he believe that she wouldn't do so again?

"Captain Filister is an exquisite sailor, and almost as famous for his pleasant manners, Miss Swann. I think you should give him a chance to prove them!"

"I did not mean to be unjust, we shall welcome him with all due kindness. All I meant was that he wouldn't be able to replace you in our midst. Return safely, Commodore Norrington!"

She felt excessively bad about all this; and regretted to have come at all. She meant what she said; she regarded the Commodore as an old friend and she would not want to miss him. She hoped for him to return in all health, and was certain that no substitute could take his place, neither with her father nor with herself. But the more she said, the more she seemed to harm him, she could read it in his face.

Governor Swann returned from his inspection and occupied the Commodore, much to his daughter's luck. She wanted to get away from this place, from the Commodore, it was all too much for her.