One of Jones crewmembers closed Sparrow in the brig of The Flying Dutchman. In Jack's humble opinion it was far too dim, too small and too barnacled. Water-weeds seemed to be everywhere, as an integral part of the hull. A small lantern, placed in the corner of the cell, was the only source of light. Sparrow looked around with disgust. How they could keep the ship in such awful condition? It was inadmissible, really.
Gradually, his sight get used to the darkness. And then he noticed that he wasn't alone in this place.
There was a man in navy officer's uniform, lying motionless at the bench in the opposite part of the cell. Sparrow observed him for a while. He noticed golden epaulets and blood on the front of the man's frock dress.
Slowly, in his dancing-like moves, he approached the officer and gazed at his pale face. The man looked somehow familiar.
„Could it be?" Jack murmured to himself.
He pondered that for a while and then he quickly poked the unconscious man with his index finger.
No reaction.
Sparrow hesitated for a moment and then touched the admiral again.
When Jack started to wonder if he should attempt to palpate his pulse, the officer suddenly opened his eyes. He spotted Sparrow and focused his gaze on his face.
„Am I in hell?" he asked, his voice weak.
„Not yet, mate," answered Sparrow with a grin but without his usual glee. He didn't expect to find Norrington here, in such a pitiful state.
For a long moment silence fell upon the cell. Norrington was just staring into the celling, ignoring Sparrow's presence. Jack wondered for a moment if the admiral here didn't happen to be one of his hallucinations, but finally he decided that even his odd mind wouldn't have been able to invent this.
„That wound looks bloody awful, mate," he said, attempting to start a conversation.
„Don't act as if you were worried, Sparrow," snapped Norrington at once.
At first Jack wanted to remind him that he should be addressed „captain" but he didn't have the heart to bother a wounded man.
„Maybe if I can examine it..." offered Sparrow.
„Don't dare touch me!" growled the admiral and Jack immediately stopped.
After a beat he tried again.
„Accordin' to Lizzie, ye were not longer with us. She was pretty sure yer dead."
Slowly Norrington turned his head to look at Sparrow.
„Elizabeth," he said in a soft, quiet voice. „Is she safe?"
„Quite fine. She's a Pirate Queen right now. And under her command, all ships sailing under pirate flags are united and ready to fight against East India Trade Company forces."
Norrington shot him a disbelieving glance.
"Have you made it up?"
„Why do people never believe ol' Jack when he happens to be telling the truth?" sighed Sparrow. „It was a democratic election as it's common among us, pirates", he explained.
Norrington closed his eyes for a moment, desperately trying to save at least a little of his common sense, despite Sparrow's presence.
It was unbelievable. A year ago Jack Sparrow – the worst pirate he had ever seen - stepped foot to Port Royal. Since then, everything had turned upside down. This man had ruined his life. And now it seemed that he would be also the last person to whom he'd speak in his life.
That's what called the irony of life.
„And where are your men?", asked Sparrow. „Did they leave you?"
„My men!", Norrington's reaction was intense. He made an attempt to rise but he didn't have enough strength to do that and he collapsed again. „My men were murdered by Jones's crewmates. Few survived at the deck of this devil ship."
„And the heart?" asked Sparrow, concerned.
Norrington was silent for a long moment, before he finally spoke again.
„Do you really think that Jones would spare the life of anyone if they still didn't keep watch over the chest?"
So, everything was as he had expected, except for the fact that Norrington was still breathing.
Jack started to wonder. The admiral have spent here at least a few days. How was it even possible that he was still alive, being so badly wounded?
And suddenly Sparrow understood. Upon the deck of The Flying Dutchman time flew in an entirely different manner. Norrington had obviously refused to accept Jones's offer. But the captain of The Flying Dutchman hadn't sent him to the locker. He preferred to torment him here. Jack shivered, realizing that technically Norrington was neither dead, nor alive.
Although Sparrow was not too fond of anyone who had tried kill him in the past (well, maybe Elizabeth was an exception) he had to admit that Norrington had a good reason to hate him. And he did that, honestly. But Sparrow, full of his inborn optimism, still had a slight bit of hope that Norrington would warm up to him eventually. If Sparrow felt responsible for anything, he would feel partly responsible for Norrington's fate.
„Tell me, why did you so desperately want to die?" asked Jack.
„Are you impersonating a cleric again?" scoffed Norrington.
„You remember that!" Sparrow gave a wide grin, showing his golden teeth.
Norrington had no intention to answer Sparrow. He was the very last person whom he would be willing to confide in. Norrington couldn't even admit to himself that he had considered that there may have been no longer a place for him on this world. He could not stay in the East India Trading Company fleet under the command of Beckett. But he also couldn't bring himself to turn into a pirate again.
Then, there was silence once again. It was broken when Sparrow suddenly remembered that he had very little time to waste.
„I've got to get out of here", he said to himself.
„How can it be?" Norrington couldn't resist from an sarcastic remark.. „The great captain Sparrow suffering from a lack of ideas?"
„Why are you always underestimating me, mate?" asked Sparrow rebukingly. He started walking to and fro, desperately trying to work out a way how to break out from this cell. „Think like the whelp, think like the whelp," he kept telling himself.
„Sparrow..." Norrington's deep voice cut into his thoughts.
„Aye? Everythin' for ye, mate."
„Will you – please – shut up?"
Sparrow shot him a resentful look. He kept walking, but this time in silence. He spun around on the one side of the cell and looked at the door again. Suddenly he knew exactly what he had to do.
„Half pin-barrel hinges!" he exclaimed.
He quickly started looking for something – anything – he could use as a lever. Last time, in jail in Fort Charles, Will used the bench to lift the door free. Well, the bench was currently occupied by the wounded admiral and Sparrow decided that removing him from it was not an option. Not only because it could be harmful for Norrington but also because the bench seemed to be too heavy to be use.
Jack examined the ceiling, the walls and finally the floor very carefully. A loose plank caught his attention. He crouched over it and pushed on its one end, so he could pull it out easily.
He picked up the plank and placed it at the bottom of the cell door. With a proper application of strength the door could be lifted.
Norrington just observed his doings and didn't comment on them. Jack wasn't sure if he didn't lost his consciousness.
Before he left, he glanced back at the admiral. In the darkness of the cell Norrington was barely visible. His eyes were closed and he looked almost as if he were dead.
„Wish I could help ye, mate." He murmured. Norrington didn't answer and Jack wasn't even sure if he had heard it.
If Jack's plan worked maybe he would be able to help the admiral.
If only James Norrington would decide to renounce a bit of his honour and would be willing to serve under the immortal captain Jack Sparrow.
