Okay...so I'm being a lazy bum with "Meaning and Mystery of the Rose" I apologize profusely. To make amends, I present you, my readers, with a small multi chapter fic that has been sitting, unposted, within my vaults.
Read, enjoy, and for god's sakes, please tell me if you want the rest of it.
Dedicated to Angoliel, without whose help this fic would not have come into being. I love you lots, big sis.
Commodore James Norrington paced the deck of the HMS Defiant, brooding. Why did he have to be called away from Port Royal to accompany a Cardinal to the Spanish colony in Panama? Why couldn't somebody else, a lesser ranking officer, perhaps, be spared from deskwork to do it? But orders from the Admiralty weren't to be taken lightly, and the Commodore was a man who put his country, and his job, first. Always, and without question.
"May I join you, Commodore?"
Norrington spun on his heel to see the Cardinal D'Auberge. He nodded, and the older man came to stand beside him, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Ah...the sea. It is so calm, so serene. We have been having good weather, Commodore, have we not?" The Cardinal asked with a slight grin. Norrington nodded.
"You didn't come up here to talk to me about the weather, did you, Cardinal D'Auberge?"
The cardinal chuckled and nodded. "No...I can up here to talk to you about the pirates in this area. There are some still in these waters?"
"Yes, unfortunately." The Commodore said, a note of intense dislike in his voice. Cardinal D'Auberge smiled.
"I take it you dislike them, Commodore?"
"Intensely, Cardinal, as any man of the Royal Navy will tell you. They're ruthless people, no better then thieves. I intend to see to it that every man who calls himself pirate or associates with them be tried and hanged."
"And have you personally met any of these pirates, Commodore?" The cardinal asked pensively. Norrington frowned.
"Regrettably, yes. Several times too many for my tastes...and he escaped the gallows, too." Norrington said with a frown. He turned to the Cardinal. "Do you have a need to meet one, Cardinal?"
"No...I only thought that I saw something on the horizon, and thought it might perhaps be one of these pirates you intend to kill." The cardinal said with a shrug, like someone commenting on the weather. Norrington squinted, and saw, much to his displeasure, another ship drawing nearer to them.
"Mr. Canning, a spyglass, if you will." The midshipman ran for the requested glass, bringing it in its case and holding it out to the Commodore, who extended it, looking out at the dark shadow of a ship. Panning the glass, he tried to catch a glimpse of the flag, but the cloth was blowing against the mast, and he couldn't see the colors clearly. But it was no English flag, of that he was certain. And that meant one thing. He collapsed the spyglass after a moment, his face grim.
"Cardinal, I would ask you to go below and barricade yourself in your cabin-It seems we're about to meet those pirates." The Commodore handed the spyglass back to Midshipman Canning, who scuttled away to put it back in his cabin, and begin to shout orders.
"Prepare for engagement, guns at the ready! Bring her about, Mr. Ross." He took the Helmsman, who obliged immediately. Several minutes and a few hundred feet closer, trumpet sallied from the other ship.
"Who goes there?"
"His Majesty's Ship Defiant! Who asks?" One of the midshipmen shouted back.
"The vessel Archangel! Strike your colors!" rang back the other ship. The commodore looked grimly at the approaching vessel.
"Prepare to engage, and call to quarters, Mr. Canning. Mr. Ross, keep her steady. Run out the guns!" The Commodore shouted briskly, his hands clasped behind his back. "We're not going to strike those colors without a fight." He muttered under his breath.The familiar rumble of the wooden wheels of the cannons below decks seemed a little ominous today, as if they knew something bad would happen. More than a few nerve racking and arduous minutes later, the two ships sidled up to each other, and the guns rang out, accompanied by a splintering of wood and a large quantity of smoke.
When the smoke had cleared, the Commodore peered over the side to see a ragtag band of pirates staring back with smiles a mile wide.
"Marines, affix bayonets!" The captain of the royal marines shouted, and the ranks assembled on deck did so.
"Gents, you heard the captain! Over the side, you louts!" With a cry, the pirates jumped over to the ship, and the melee began. Pistols flared, sabers flashed and everywhere was filled with the smell of spent shot and the sound of clashing metal. The Commodore drew his sword, turning just in time to see a man, dressed all in black, his dark haired queued into a neat tail, jump over the side with a wolfish smile, his sword at the ready.
The two began to circle, and the Commodore studied his opponent, clearly a man of some rank due to his rather well tailored clothes. Blade met blade, and the Commodore silently vanquished every single bad thought about William Turner from his head; that blacksmith knew what he was doing when he had made this sword.
While on the main deck the battle raged without mercy, on the forecastle the commodore and the man in black paid little attention to what was happening below them until the trumpeter of the Defiant sounded the surrender. The Commodore put his blade down to look at the trumpeter, who had a pistol cocked to his head and looked very much in fear for his life. He sighed, and sheathed his sword.
"Mr. Canning! Strike the colors." he said, in a tried and defeated voice. The midshipman scuttled up the mast to retrieve the flag, and then came back down, holding the Union Jack as though he had lost an old friend. He handed it to the man in black, who, with a noblesse air, bowed and bore them away to his ship, handing them off to the person who came out of the cabin.
It was a woman, attired in a pair of worn brown boots and a long canvas skirt, belted at the middle with a bright red scarf, topped with a man's white shirt. On her head she wore a red kerchief over long dark black hair. She took the flag and raised it above her head in triumph, emitting a roar echoed by the crew.
"Mr. Finnerty, see that the crew of the Defiant makes it aboard and into the cells. Mr. Locksleaigh, make certain the passengers are also aboard." The woman said after the shouting had calmed down. The men scurried off to do as she wished, while the others went below to search for anything that might prove valuable at the next port.
"May I ask what you are doing, Madam?" The commodore asked, disgusted that these men weren't following the captain's orders. She looked up at him, a look that meant all business on her face.
"I'm going to sink your ship, Commodore." She said matter-of-factly, her voice cold.
"With your permission, madam, I'd like to stay aboard, then."
The woman's eyebrows raised a little, but she said nothing. She turned to the man in black. "Nicholas, see to it that the Commodore makes it aboard. If he doesn't change his mind, change it for him and have him carried on." She looked up at the Commodore with a smirk. "Master Commodore, I don't really care to kill you today, so I'm not afraid to hit you over the head with a wrenching iron and carry you on like so much flour. Now, I would suggest taking the easier of the two routes, as it will not be detrimental to your pride."
Norrington's nose flared a bit as he held his anger in check and allowed himself to be escorted onto the ship by the man in black, whose name he now knew was Nicholas, and put in a cabin with the Cardinal.
"Are you happy now, Cardinal D'Auberge? You've met your pirates." Norrington snapped.
"I'm sure he couldn't be happier, Commodore." The two men turned to see the woman, standing in the doorway. The commodore frowned. "The Cardinal tells me you harbor a dislike for pirates, and I'm terribly sorry you'll have to spend the next few weeks with a whole ship full." She said with a smirk. "It's not often we have such elevated guests on our ship. Allow me to welcome you to the Archangel." She said with an extravagant flourish.
"It's a sad welcome, I'll give you that."
"You'll find our hospitality improves with your temperament, Commodore. I am Meredith Lords, the captain of this vessel, and this is Nicholas Fitzwalter, my first mate. I would ask, Commodore, that you exchange your dress suit for something a little...less military, as you have no rank here." She motioned inside the men behind her, who unceremoniously carted in the commodore and cardinal's trunks and left them on the floor.
"I expect you to join me for dinner tonight, Master..."
"Norrington." The commodore supplied.
"Master Norrington. It would be my explicit pleasure to dine with you." Captain Lords said with a smile.
"I'm sure the pleasure will be all yours." Norrington said icily. When she had gone, the Cardinal immediately went to his trunk, putting away the red skullcap and chain that showed his office. "Don't tell me you're actually liking all this, Cardinal?" Norrington asked, the edge off his voice. The cardinal looked up at him.
"Master Norrington, if I may take the liberty to call you that, once in a while it is good to be free from the straight lacings of society. Once, a man remarked that a ship, and the ocean itself, was freedom. Perhaps you should explore this on your little hiatus from military life." The cardinal finished with a smile.
Norrington shook his head and, after carefully setting aside his hat and wig, laid down for a nap.
Norrington did up the last button of his vest, adjusting the cravat of finely spun lace at his throat-even if he was dining in less than savory company, he would be doing so properly dressed. Slipping into his coat and setting his wig gingerly on his head, he closed the door behind him and went with the man waiting outside his door to go humor the female captain and take dinner with her.
The cabin of Captain Meredith Lords was awash with light, as well as the smell of freshly baked dinner rolls and roasted meat. The company stood as he entered, and Norrington cleared his throat a little nervously, sitting down next to the captain at the head of the table.
Meredith Lords presented a very different side of herself now; she wore a dress of deep green cloth, the tight bodice exposing a chaste bit of cleavage and a bronzed throat. Her skin wasn't the peerage white Elizabeth's was, but in the glow of the candles, her dark hair tidily brushed back, hanging down to her shoulders, she looked quite beautiful. James Norrington blinked once, and then looked down at his plate: Had he actually thought that?
His mind was too occupied with that thought to care to notice that one of the Captain's mates had proposed a toast.
"Master Norrington?" The captain asked softly, laying a hand on his. He started, and looked at her.
"Yes?"
"Nicholas has just proposed a toast." Meredith reminded him softly, her once commanding voice gentle, a reserved lady-like whisper.
"I am sorry...my mind was elsewhere." Norrington apologized, inspecting his goblet and finding nothing in it.
"Mr. Morris, Master Norrington has no wine. See to it that it is remedied." A man refilled his glass, and he raised it. Nicholas looked at him from the opposite end of the table.
"I was about to say 'To the continued good health of the Captain, and her honored guests." The first mate announced, holding his glass high.
The assembled raised their glasses with unison 'To the Captain' and took swigs of the wine.
"Captain, I compliment you on your wine. What vintage is it?" Norrington asked, taking a small sip to savor the taste.
"Ah, surely you recognize the taste of a good burgundy, Master Norrington. Nicholas, where did we pick this up?"
"Cartegena, I think. Off the...Gemini, that was it." Nicholas remarked, tasting the wine again with a small sip. Norrington gazed with newfound hatred at the goblet.
"Is it no longer to your tastes, Master Norrington?" The Captain inquired lightly.
"I don't drink stolen goods, Madam." The Commodore replied icily, getting up from the table and making to leave. The captain stood as well. James' hand had nearly reached the door when her voice rang over the now silent table.
"Tell me, Master Norrington, which one of our number did you meet up with that makes you despise us so, and what on earth did he do to you to incite this hate?"
Norrington turned back to the table slowly. "Captain Jack Sparrow, of the Black Pearl... He escaped me and the gallows twice, and made me lose one of the things I might have prized most."
"So this is over a woman, I presume?" Meredith asked with a straight face. The Commodore drew in a ragged breath.
"Yes." He said, his cheeks beginning to burn with the shame of the whole conversation.
"I assure you, Commodore, I like men much better, so I'm not going to be stealing your sweetheart. Now please, sit down." Captain Lords said, nearly pleading with him. Reluctantly, he took to his place again and pulled in his chair, waiting for everyone to stop staring at him. The captain cleared her throat with a look that told them all not to ask any questions, and they returned to their dinner like nothing had happened.
Through out dinner, the Commodore couldn't help but find himself glancing at the young captain and wondering how on earth a woman ended up captaining a vessel as big as this one.
During a lull in the conversation as dessert was being served, Norrington asked her just that.
"It is quite a bit of a story, Master Norrington, but...we have time. My great-great-grandfather was Geoffrey Thorpe, one of the Sea Hawks under Elizabeth the first. He was a privateer before the Spanish Armada attacked, and afterwards, was knighted for his gallantry on the seas and married a Spanish lady, Maria Alvarez de Cordoba.
He continued piracy after his marriage, but not before he'd built my great great grandmother a mansion on their own island. It's still standing there, if you'd care to know. So while he was out plundering the Spanish Main, she stayed home and raised their five children, of which my great-grandfather, Edward, was the oldest. When the time came for Geoffrey to retire, he passed the ship along to his son, who took up his father's place aboard the Albatross as captain. Edward met and wooed, with the charm that the men of my family are well known for, Giovanna di Carrizo, an Italian countess of some considerable means, spiriting her away from her family home in Corsica for their honeymoon to the house in the Caribbean that his father had built, and adding a new wing for his blushing new bride.
They had three children, the oldest of which, Augustine, met and married the daughter of a prosperous English merchant, Mary Christian, at the tender age of twenty while his father was still in command of the Albatross. The merchant father of Mary gave to him as her dowry the ship Bellerophon. They had six children, the oldest of which was my mother, Rose." She took a sip of her wine. "Am I boring you yet, Master Norrington?"
"Oh no...by all means, continue." Norrington said, intrigued, having forgotten his pie. Meredith put her glass down.
"Well, not having an oldest son to inherit, Augustine was faced with a bit of a dilemma and was tempted to give the Bellerophon to his fourth child, John, before Rose married another pirate, Philip Lords, the captain of the Archangel, which you are now traveling on. When I was born, they had wanted a boy to name after one of the archangels, and upon having me instead gave me the middle name Gabrielle. I've been raised on this ship; it's nearly part of my flesh and blood." She leaned back in her chair with a sigh. "Pirate is in my blood, Master Norrington...if you're seeking to reform me, you're several generations too late."
Norrington's lips curled into a smile. "I don't reform pirates, Captain...I hang them. Now, if you will excuse me...Gentlemen, Captain." He bowed to the rest of the table and left, leaving the rest of the table in a semi stunned silence. All eyes were on the captain, who was staring at the closed door.
"You all may go...Nicholas, I'd like to talk to you about our course to Panama." Meredith waved the rest of her dining companions out absently, still staring at the door, deep in thought.
One word- REVIEW! I'm not asking, I'm commanding.