Norrington Torture

A bit of Norrington Torture

Chapter 1

He felt the blood from his split lower lip trickle down his chin, his knees almost giving way a second after his face connected rather abruptly with the wall for the fourth or was it fifth time, somehow he had lost track. He had managed to cushion the previous times a bit with his hands. Of course his hands had not been tied behind his back those times either. That had been done just recently, in fact just moments before his face met the wall this time. His assailants had judged that a wise thing to do as a well directed punch from him had knocked one of them half silly and a well directed kick from him had assured that one of them would not be standing upright for at least awhile. He felt a bit of satisfaction at that.

He came close to loosing his balance when one of them grabbed him by his bound wrists and jerked him backward.

"Ain't so high and mighty now are ya Pirate Hunter." One of them snarled in his ear as he was punched in the side just under his ribs and shoved once again face first into the wall, jerked back by his wrists, and thrown to the floor where he received a vicious kick to the stomach that doubled him up and finished knocking the wind out of him the collisions with the wall had left behind. Despite his efforts to smother it a low groan managed to escape as he lay there panting for breath, which brought a round of rough laughs from his captors.

"See there boys, told ya without that shiny uniform he's just like everybody else as far as pain and the feelin of it, Commodore Pirate Hunter or not." One of them said and another round of laughter broke out.

"Belay that ya scurvy!" The gruff voice of the First Mate called out from the doorway, "Cap'n don't want 'em dead yet, just softened up a bit. Now get yer worthless hides back on deck."

The men grumbled as they each gave him a parting kick and a few choice curses before leaving him there on the floor.

When he was sure they were gone he did his best, despite the pain, to move himself into a position on his other side so as to face the room and examine his surroundings, after all his first priority must be to at least try to come up with a plan for escape. He already knew he was on a ship, too many years spent on one or another to miss that. But which one?

The last he remembered he had spent a rare evening with Gillette and Groves over a mug or two, or maybe a bit more, of ale, about midnight had finally bid them a rather unsober goodbye and left alone for home. He remembered on the way to meet Andrew and Theo at the tavern, perusing out of habit more than anything, the ships that had been in the harbor on his way to the tavern and could not now remember any of them standing out in any way as anything but Royal Navy or ordinary merchant ships in Port Royal on legitimate business. But someone had come up behind him and had thumped him on the head. The last thing he remembered before blacking out was being dragged off towards the back of the tavern. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious, so although he could tell by the feel of the ship beneath him they were anchored somewhere it could literally be anywhere. He glanced up to see light streaming through the window and guessed it was probably past noon, but was it just the night before he had been abducted or had it been days? He gave a frustrated grunt and a frustrated jerk at the bonds around his wrists and immediately wished he hadn't as a sharp pain radiated through his back and shoulder. He decided to just lie there and think about an escape plan.

Unfortunately his abductors had other plans. They entered the room and he knew from what one of them was carrying this was not going to be pleasant. Two of them pinned his legs down, two of them pinned his shoulders down, and despite his struggles against them the remaining one was able to fasten an iron collar around his neck. A chain was fastened to this and then he was roughly dragged to his feet and informed the Cap'n wanted to see him. After a few more punches to his back and sides and just barely able to keep his legs under him he was led by the chain from the room and out on deck. He did his best to look around to see if he could tell where they might be but the violent jerking on the collar and the men pushing and tripping him forced him to focus on staying upright.

He was shoved forward through a door so hard into what had to be the Captain's cabin he wound up on his knees, barely keeping himself from smashing face first into the floor. James looked up to see a large ornate desk in front of him and someone who could only be the Captain smiling at him over said desk.

"Commodore Norrington, so glad you could join me." The man said, then poured what appeared to be brandy into a glass and asked cordially as he held it up, "Drink? You must be very thirsty."

James assumed his best stiff stuffy Commodore-ly tone and bearing as he replied with fire shooting from glaring green eyes, "I'd sooner drink seawater."

"I think you may change your mind before it's all over Commodore." The man said as he drank from the glass he held in front of him.

"Not likely." James replied with the same tone and glare.

"Well we will see about that." The man replied with a smile. "Perhaps we should start off on the right foot so to speak. I shall tell you what my intentions are here and we can go from there. How would that be?"

James didn't dignify the question with an answer; instead he continued to glare at the man.

"My intentions are quite simple really." He said mildly, a smile on his face. Then suddenly his tone and expression turned to one of pure hate, "I intend to break you Commodore. I intend for you to suffer unmercifully, to beg me for the release of death." Then once again just as quickly the smile returned as he looked at James, "Does that scare you Commodore? I assure you it should."

"You're mad." James replied.

The man shoved his chair back and leaned over the desk, a malevolent look on his face, "You hung both my sons Commodore, I will make you pay for that, I will have my vengeance."

"Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord." James quoted.

Before James had a chance to react the man was around the desk and had kicked him in the chest so hard it knocked him over backwards. As the back of James' head smacked the floor and he saw stars he considered the fact that particular statement might not have been the smartest thing he had ever said, especially when dealing with someone that was clearly mad as a sweep. He did his best to protect what body parts he could as the man continued to kick him viciously for several minutes. When the man had apparently tired himself out and the assailment stopped James tried to take a breath and was met with searing pain in the vicinity of his lungs. 'More than likely a broken rib or two if not worse' he thought to himself with a grimace. He made up his mind right then and there regardless of the cost he must find a way to escape. Just about anything would be better than dying at the hands of this madman.

The Captain called in several of the ruffians that had 'escorted' him into the cabin to 'escort' him out. He was taken to the brig and thrown into a cell. As he lay face down and heard the door shut and the key turned in the lock he almost allowed himself to wallow in the despair that was threatening to take over him. He mentally censured himself. As long as he could draw a breath there was a chance for escape he told himself, although it took a bit more than that to even pretend it was true.

To Be Continued

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