The Dictates of Conscience

Chapter One: In the Service of His Majesty

Lord Cutler Beckett was musing on the virtues of capital investments the morning that Jack Sparrow escaped from Port Royal. He had been reclining on a chaise, reading the latest tract by Richard Adams, an interesting piece he found morally uplifting. When he heard the news, he looked up from The Wealth of Nations long enough to briefly count the losses that he would sustain from the pirate's return to lawlessness, but soon was engrossed once more in economic theory. Later, when he heard that the young but talented blacksmith Will Turner had been an accomplice in the break out, he closed the book and put it aside entirely. "Oh how absolutely perfect," he thought, and laughed delicately.

Cutler Beckett had always been displeased with the East India Company's inability to keep its men away from the abominable Navy press gangs. Nor did the crown see fit to recompense him for his loss, except with windy words of "duty" and "service." As if those brought in the pounds sterling that really sustained an empire. He could barely manage with the employees permitted him, much less sustain the Commonwealth. Able seamen did not grow on trees, or ordinary seamen, for that matter. Ships, which did grow on trees- Beckett noted the witticism for his next society evening- were even more scarce. His best smuggler, an opium runner in China, had snapped its mast in a squall the week before. As far as he knew, they were still in port in Asia, vainly searching for a replacement. The situation had already cost him weeks of wasted income- untaxed, unmonitored income, the best kind for business. Still, he would find a way to remedy it, as he always did when profit beckoned, which brought him to his current situation.

He pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and a pen to begin: "The Lord Cutler Beckett, etc, on behalf of His Majesty King George III, hereby charges Mr. William Turner with the crime of Treason…" Satisfied with the opening, he plunged into the body of the missive with an enthusiasm born of elation.

Some minutes later, Becket set down his quill, taking care not to drip on his masterpiece, and walked to his window, which looked out into the harbor where all sorts of ships, sloops, xebecs, brigs, and boats were humming with activity.

Governor Swann stood at the window of his office and gazed down at the ship preparing to leave Port Royal with his ex-soon-to-be-son-in-law in chains below deck. It was the Matilda, a twelve-gun sloop employed in scouring the cays for smugglers and rumrunners. A small vessel, to be making such a long journey, but one of the few royal ships in the harbor ready to sail. Swann almost hoped it wouldn't stand the voyage. Elizabeth would never give up as long as there was some hope of reuniting with William Turner- which, of course, brought him to the task at hand. Opening the door, he called in a slave boy, a page for the officials in the capital.

"Go fetch Captain Norrington from Fort Charles," Swann said slowly and carefully. "Tell him that he is to come to Governor Swann's office right away. If anyone tries to tell you he's busy, say it's urgent business from the capitol." He did not look at the boy as he gave these commands, but continued to stare out at the harbor. The slave boy bowed, and with a quick "yessir" started away.

He ran down the steps of the town hall, tipping his hat to the gentlemen and officials coming in the opposite direction. Slowing his pace as he came to the docks, the boy also watched the preparation of the Matildas, on a much more intimate scale than the Governor. Several were grumbling amongst themselves, lamenting that they must leave behind the rich prizes of the Spanish Main for the empty sea and the treacherous waters of the southern capes. But they had a duty to obey, whether they had sought out the ship or been pressed into it, and they had accepted their profession, to risk their lives in the service of His Majesty's Navy. Unlike the wretch they would be dragging aboard in a few hours, the boy thought, remembering the gossip he had heard a few days before. He contemplated the fate of the sailors. Did they sometimes feel as he did, these imposing and powerful men, trapped into wordless obedience by the threat of the lash? He had been beaten a few times as he had had to learn the subtleties of serving government men, but the mere sight of the cat was enough to make him shudder. Was it really a crime if a man decided not to give in to that intimidation? Depends on his reasons, the boy thought. But it was better for him not to think of rebellion, no matter how noble the cause, when he knew he could not avoid the punishment that would come with it. They might send his mother away, and he was not willing to take that risk.

Which was why he again quickened his step and ran to the fort. The guards, used to seeing the pages running back and forth with messages, smiled as he walked by. Norrington, the boy knew from past service, could usually be found in the map room, charting a course for his latest pirate-catching expedition. But today, taking advantage of the bright afternoon sun, he was on the parade ground, practicing sparring with his midshipmen. The boy approached him authoritatively, nonetheless.

"The Governor wants to see you, Captain."

"What?" Norrington grunted between heavy breaths. He turned his eye to the boy for a fraction of a second, during which the young man Norrington had been engaging made a thrust at his captain's stomach. The bated point caught a buttonhole on his waistcoat, and Norrington turned back just as quickly. While the midshipman had paused for a moment to celebrate his hit, Norrington slapped his neck with the flat of his sword. As the young man stepped back, surprised, and rubbed the red line that had appeared, Norrington looked at the slave boy.

"Well done, to take advantage of a distraction. But remember, a wounded, even a dying man can still kill you…" The messenger cleared his throat impatiently, and Norrington stopped. "But it seems I have been summoned. Mr. Bradford, you are responsible for the rest of the exercises today."

Norrington walked to the slave boy, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief.

"The Governor…" he began.

"I heard you the first time," Norrington said, not unkindly. "You may go now, I know the way to his offices." He had a nagging feeling that this had something to do with the foolish Turner boy, and he did not want anyone else, no matter how insignificant, to see his perturbation on the subject. As the boy turned to leave, though, Norrington remembered his state of undress and called him back. "Wait, will you go retrieve my coat? I left it in my office."

"yessir." It was a hot day, indeed, the boy thought, if the fastidious Captain Norrington was found dishabille in any way outside his house. He ran to the room and slung the heavy wool coat over his shoulder, the full skirts swinging behind his back. "Here, sir."

"A penny for your trouble." Norrington tossed a coin absentmindedly and dismissed the boy. He pulled on his coat and arranged his hat on his sweaty brow. A rather improper habit for seeing the Governor, but Norrington suspected his appearance would be the least of Swann's troubles. Still, the captain knew he needed some form of composure to disguise the unease he felt internally. Clasping his belt and good sword around his waist, Norrington set out for the town hall.

A tall liveried servant opened the door and announced Captain Norrington. Governor Swann was still standing at the window. The door shut, he began to speak. Norrington knew the subject immediately, being privy, of course, to the comings and goings of nearly all His Majesty's ships and sloops from the harbor, and their business, and his earlier prediction proved true. He had also observed the preparations of the Matilda on his way from Fort Charles.

"Should I have done more to defend the boy, James? I know, he was spared from death, largely due to your own testimony, but I could have given him an official pardon…"

"To do so would be to undermine the very law that you represent…and taint your daughter with a treasonous husband." Norrington interrupted Swann's hesitant speech with firmness and conviction. He had felt a sort of responsibility for Turner, and was disappointed with his fate in an almost fatherly way. Although he had been merely a lieutenant on the Dauntless that day they pulled the boy from the water, he thought that Will's near death by the hands of pirates would dissuade him from the profession entirely…and that had been the case, until Jack Sparrow. He even would have been willing to forgive Turner all his rash actions in his wild attempt to save Elizabeth, commandeering the Interceptor and damaging theDauntless…but freeing a convicted pirate was beyond all reason, if not conscience as well.

Governor Swann shook his head at the mention of his daughter.

"Lord Beckett wanted to charge her too…." Governor Swann raised his eyebrows at Captain Norrington, who was taken aback by this revelation.

"Shewas Turner's accomplice, he said, ignoring Norrington's insistence. She counterfeited a fainting spell to create a distraction, and then tried to defend him from the soldiers… Elizabeth is prone to swooning, as you well know." The governor smiled wryly and wearily. "But he could not be dissuaded from arresting Will."

Norrington regained his composure. "Mr. Turner was tried and convicted in a fair civil court. Scores of witnesses attending the hanging saw him attack our own soldiers. His case was indefensible. I advocated leniency…For Elizabeth's sake, I suppose."

"Yes," the governor sighed, "She has taken ahold of all of us, I fear. Turner risked his life to rescue her from that pirate, which I believe weighed in his favor at sentencing…

"Others were willing to do the same, sir," Norrington interrupted softly.

The governor paused. "I know, James." After a brief moment of silence, Swann came back lightheartedly. "And he is an excellent blacksmith." Norrington nodded, and his hand strayed unconsciously to the elegantly swept hilt of his sword.

The governor turned away from the window and stepped toward Norrington. "But it is done. Turner leaves on the evening tide. I called you here because I want to ensure that he is not accompanied by a certain ex-fiancee you both share." Swann looked pointedly at Norrington. "I would not have her throw her life away for the sake of a foolish boy who is too rash to consider the consequences of his actions." Swann's anger at Turner came not from a loathing of piracy, but at the pain the young man had caused his daughter by getting himself shipped off to a prison colony.

Norrington took a breath and looked at his feet. "I do not think it would be proper for a former suitor to be calling on her so soon after losing her betrothed." He looked up again. "And besides, the ship doesn't leave for another six hours. I can't respectably visit for more than a few minutes."

"I have arranged for you to attend a concert together. A symphony has come all the way from London to play in Port Royal, for the entertainment of the officers here. As a gentleman you will need a companion. Afterwards you may dine at the governor's mansion. I've already instructed the cook and servants," Governor Swann said, somewhat pleased with himself that he had already considered the captain's objections.

"I will do what is necessary, sir. But I ask you to consider whether it may be wiser for you to stay with her yourself." Norrington spoke resolutely, but the governor was adamant.

"She has seen enough of me lately. I want her to remember the future she has here. That William Turner is not the only man who loves her."

Norrington looked down again, and then nodded wordlessly.

"She will thank us later for protecting her from herself," Governor Swann said, although the optimism in his voice did not match the sorrow in his eyes. "But you must go prepare," he continued, noticing at last Norrington's still-damp face and dusty stockings. "I have told the servants to keep an eye on her, but she is so friendly with them I doubt they would stand up to her appeals for long."

Norrington bowed, and headed for the door.

"Thank you, James," Swann said.

"Your servant, sir," Norrington replied, and continued on his way.

The more he thought about it, he realized that his decision to give Sparrow a head start was also likely a result of Elizabeth's defense of the man. It was dangerous for him to allow his affections to get the better of his duty…

Walking hastily back to his residence, a fair-sized cottage on the edge of town, Norrington considered his situation. He had thought that releasing Elizabeth from their hastily formed engagement would free his mind for the requirements of the service, but even as her wedding day came closer he could not help thinking about what might have been…And just when all the arrangements had been made for William Turner to take her out of his reach forever, the Lord Cutler Beckett had to take an interest in the piratically inclined blacksmith and cast the whole affair into disarray again. He had prepared for the eventuality that he could never possibly marry Elizabeth, and felt a strange irritation at the zealous merchant who had taken away his certainty. He had convinced himself that he would never be a good husband for Elizabeth. She might as well marry Turner now anyway, considering how often a captain of the Royal Navy could expect to be at home between commands. Was a captain even good enough for Miss Swann? His pay would be inconsistent, and he was very young to be promoted. The whole situation was distressing.

Sighing, he pulled on his blue coat and best stockings, dusted his wig, and carefully tied his neck cloth. As he opened the door to the street he put his thoughts aside and resigned himself to his fate.

Authors' Notes:

This story was co-written by La Romanesque and Quercus.

Hello to all who have made it this far! We are exceptionally excited that you read our tale. Now on to the real notes.

There are many historical periods in which one may place PotC, ranging from around 1690 to 1780, by fashion and style of ship rigging and design. Barbossa, for example, wears an exceptionally old-fashioned style of dress, whereas Norrington wears a 1730's style coat. The marines, on the late end of the spectrum, are dressed in uniforms of the late 18th century. So we took the liberty of placing our story in the 1770's, for a few reasons. Will's sentence of transportation to Australia (which is where he will end up) only makes sense in this time period, as before the 70's, those sentenced to transportation were usually sent to the Americas or the West Indies. As such, it is unlikely that someone already there would be sentenced to such a punishment, but we couldn't very well kill him, now could we?

Secondly, for those of you who have been itching to tell us the Norrington is a commodore, not a captain, the fact is that Disney, in this as in so many other instances, has made an error. Commodore was a temporary rank for the purpose of leading certain expeditionary groups of more than one ship when an admiral was not available, or a captain was viewed as particularly suited for the position. It did not become a permanent rank until 1996, or thereabouts. So, our Norrington is in fact still a captain.

And lastly, a note on the title. The title is an adaptation of a longer quote from Gilbert and Sullivan's The Pirates of Penzance: "Always act on the dictates of your conscience, my boy, and chance the consequences!" (The Pirate King, to Frederic) We see a lot in common between Frederic and Norrington, and we hope that Norrie will have an equally happy ending.

Whew! That was a lot. Hope you enjoyed it, and please leave a review if you have any suggestions or comments.

Sincerely, La Romanesque and Quercus