Elizabeth looked at the men walking around in their uniforms – what was happening? She noticed they were all moving upstairs, Bootstrap was let through by another sailor and together they all passed upstairs. None of them said a word as the crew of the Empress gazed on in awe. Once they had all gone the prisoners broke out into bursts of whispers and theories, but Elizabeth remained holding onto the bars, wishing desperately that she could get out somehow. There was another sound, the prisoners all listened with bated breath, and it was a scream this time – a man's scream. She called out helplessly "James!"
The Flying Dutchman dived beneath the water, shaking itself free of its uncomfortable adornments and wiping the slate clean. Away came the barnacles and the sea creatures and even the darkness of the wood. When the ship came to the surface the paint peeled back to reveal the true colours of the ship, blue and mahogany – the cannon ports gilded in silver. On the deck of the ship the Dutchman's captain lay, rejuvenated on the red decks of the ship, hand clutching the new red scar on his chest.
James Norrington stood, taking in his uniform. It was his old Naval uniform, gone was the garish mustard yellow, and back was the purity he had sorely missed. He looked around at the men who were advancing towards him and came back to reality. Reaching for his sword he swung it out before him, scaring off any would be challengers. He realized they were all dressed like he was, in various uniforms – ranging from the redcoats to the lieutenants.
"Stay back." He called to them and they immediately stepped backwards. This revelation caused him to falter somewhat, he hadn't been expecting them to do what he said. One of the men came forwards; he wore a lieutenant's uniform.
"Sir. We mean you no harm – we are simply a crew waiting orders from their captain." He spoke carefully to him, as if afraid of upsetting him. James lowered the sword – his mind began to make the connection now. Another thought occurred to him – where was Mercer? He patted his coat pockets frantically and was relieved when he found the key there. He beckoned over the soldier holding the chest. He had some grim desire to see it, to force himself to believe that this was really happening. The chest opened with a pop and lifting the lid he saw before him a beating, very bloody and very fresh heart. Feeling slightly ill he closed it again and took it from the man.
"Where are Beckett's men?" As his new crew led him below deck, James found himself checking for tentacles or other fishy attachments – but thankfully none were to be found. He looked around, they seemed to be in the brig, as they walked through different compartments James took off his hat, which was a hindrance below deck and carefully stooped beneath every beam. At last the crew stopped outside the largest of the cells, inside was a gaggle of very nervous looking pirates, Sao Feng's he remembered, and East India Company officers. At the front of the group though was Elizabeth Swann who seemed to have been having an altercation with Mercer, who was gripping her wrist tightly, though in their shock at seeing him they had frozen in position.
"James?" Elizabeth pulled her wrist away sharply, now meeting no resistance. She walked over to the bars with some trepidation, he looked different to her. His uniform was back to his Commodore's one, and the atrocious yellow was gone too. He seemed taller, more powerful and even more dashing than ever.
"Let
her out." He commanded, and one of the redcoats swung open the door
for her. Allegiance to her pirates was forgotten, mesmerised by the
revival of a dear friend. She moved over to him and placed her hand
on the side of his face. "What is happening James? Where is Davy
Jones?" His new resolve seemed to weaken a moment before he raised
his hand to hers and giving it a gentle squeeze he pulled it from him
and dropped it. Turning to address Mercer too, he spoke,
"I am
Commodore Norrington, the Flying Dutchman is mine," he spoke in his
low soft spoken voice and turning fully to Mercer and his men, "Davy
Jones is gone. This ship will serve the Royal Navy," but before
Mercer could gain false hope, "but never serve Cutler Beckett and
his East India Company," his eyes moving from Mercer he looked over
the soldiers, many had been Naval Officers like him once, "The rest
of you have a choice to make, stay loyal to Beckett and remain in the
brig with Mr Mercer, or rejoin the Royal Navy, as free men."
There was a long pause before two soldiers shuffled nervously forwards, he had known them, Murtogg and Mullroy was it? The larger one spoke out, shaking, "It would be an honour, sir, to serve under your command again." With that they both gave him a salute, and gradually they all got to their feet. He was proud of them – you can take the man from the Navy, but never the Navy from the man. He turned to Elizabeth again, she was still looking at him in a strange way, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. He offered his arm to her and ordering his men to let the soldiers out, he swept out with Elizabeth on his arm.