Chapter 3

"Sir, if I may speak freely…"

"I'd rather you didn't."

Lieutenant Groves nodded silently, and stood at attention as he watched Norrington sit on the bed with his head on his hands. The pirate contingent had departed several minutes ago, leaving the commodore and Groves alone in the hotel room. If Norrington really wanted the pirate to come to Port Royal, Sparrow had said, than he better show up at the Pearl within the hour.

Norrington ran his hand through his brown hair, training his gaze on the wood floor. "It is completely against protocol to voluntarily board and enemy ship," he said aloud.

"Yes, sir." Groves replied. After a moment of silence, he let out a small cough. "I'm sure no one could fault you for saying no. Sir."

"I just want to know what the pirate is planning," Norrington growled, standing up as he held his hands behind his back. He started pacing the room with a stiff back, his face etched with concentration.

"I doubt it's anything nefarious," Groves replied. "He probably wants a guarantee that this isn't some sort of trick."

Norrington turned on Groves, an appalled expression on his face. "A trick, lieutenant? The royal navy does not dabble in tricks and backstabbing!"

"Well, that's not entirely-"

"Enough," Norrington cut in, raising his hand. "I have decided. I will go on the pirate vessel."

"Perhaps," Groves said slowly, "we could persuade him to let me come along?"

Norrington eyed him silently for a moment. "Why would we need to do that?"

"So you would have a friend on board, of course."

"Lieutenant," Norrington said slowly, "Are you implying that I wouldn't be able to hand the situation on my own?"

Taking in Norrington's disheveled brown hair, his ill-fitting civilian clothes, his stiff posture, and the somewhat manic look in his eyes, Groves decided to answer cautiously. "Of course not, sir," he said, "but it would be an entire pirate crew against your one self."

With one last self-indulgent sigh, Norrington nodded curtly, and gestured for the door. "I suppose you have a point, Groves," he said. Outside on the street, the two men found the crowds still milling about, despite the late hour. Keeping their eyes peeled for threats, Groves and Norrington quickly strode for the docks.

The Black Pearl was waiting for them, looking slightly less haunted than the last time they had a run-in with the infamous ship. "Sir," Groves said with a small smile, "After all the times you tried to chase it down, and here it is in front of you."

"Lieutenant," Norrington replied, "Do shut up."

Before Groves could respond, they both paused when they noticed someone waving emphatically from the deck of the ship. "Dear lord…" Norrington said when Sparrow's outline became visible in the horizon. "He isn't waving at us, is he?"

"I do believe he is," Groves replied.

"Aye," the pirate yelled down at them, "What's the lad doing here?"

Norrington looked over at Groves. "He's coming along," he said in a half-bark, glancing at the dock, hoping that no one was around to witness him conversing with a pirate. "You can't expect me to surrender myself alone."

"Surrender yourself?" Sparrow replied, his lip curling into a grin. With a shrug, he let loose the rope ladder down the side of the ship.

Norrington and Groves jumped out of the way as the thick rope hit the deck with a thud. Taking one last look at each other, Norrington took hold of the ladder, and started pulling himself up, and was soon followed by Groves. When he reached the railing of the ship, he launched himself over the side, and landed on his feet with a grunt.

"Welcome aboard," Sparrow said, his teeth glinting in the light of the lamps. "I do hope you enjoy you stay."

''''

They caught sight of the Dauntless a half hour after leaving the Tortuga port. As the two ships passed each other in the water, Norrington yelled for his crew to follow, probably to their vast confusion. He offered Groves the chance of crossing over to the navy ship, but the lieutenant declined.

As the Pearl rocked with the currents, Norrington found himself on a ship over which he had no control of. He kept a stiff back, and watched Sparrow screwing around at the helm with a suspicious eye.

"Lieutenant," he said out of the side of his mouth.

Groves coughed.

"Does he seem… inebriated to you?"

Both men watched silently as Sparrow suddenly spun the wheel with a jerk to the left, nearly knocking the crew to their feet. A string of curses could be heard floating down from the crow's nest.

"He doesn't seem any different than usual," Groves said finally.

"So, drunk as a dog, then?"

Groves let out another slight cough.

"Got something stuck in your throat?" Sparrow yelled over his shoulder.

"Um, no," Groves replied, straightening his back.

Norrington sighed, and stepped towards the helm as he turned to look at Sparrow. The pirate was gazing out at the ocean with a misleading focus, his face set in grim determination. "Can I help you with something, Commodore?" he asked.

"Where did you learn to steer, pirate?" Norrington replied with a cluck of his tongue.

"I suspect it was on a ship, such as this one."

After a pause, Sparrow turned his grinning face towards Norrington, his hair flying in the breeze. "No need to be rude, aye?"

Rude? Of all the things a pirate could accuse Commodore James Norrington of being, that had to be the most preposterous. "I would have you know," Norrington said with a clipped tone, "that I have never been called rude in my life."

"Ah," the pirate said with a nod, "and certainly never humble."

"Excuse me?" Norrington blustered, his face turning a nice shade of red. "I'll will have you know-"

Sparrow caught his eye, and Norrington immediately shut his mouth. "You're taking the piss out of me."

Lip curling upwards, Sparrow turned fully to the commodore. "Your excellency," he said, placing his hand on his chest. "I would never have expected to hear such language from you." Bowing his head, he feigned disappointment. "I'm quite shocked."

Norrington stared at him slack-jawed. "This is beyond…" he started to say, stumbling over his words. He looked over at Groves, who seemed to be quite enraptured with a seagull floating along with the ship. Gritting his teeth, he returned his gaze to Sparrow. "You really have no drop of decency. Mocking a royal navy officer…"

With a chuckle, Sparrow shrugged. "My apologies," he said, "but I have to take offense when someone insults me steering capabilities, savvy?"

"I'm not insulting your ability," Norrington replied with a clenched jaw. As he recalled his words, he slowly tried to relax. "Well…" he said with a pained expression, "perhaps I hadn't chosen the right phrasing."

"The right phrasing, aye?" Sparrow said, tilting his head. "Fine then, let's see how the flawless Commodore steers a pirate ship, shall we?"

Norrington stared at him. "What?"

"Take the helm," Sparrow replied, stepping away from the wheel, which then began spinning out of control with alarming speed. The ship lurched to the right, as more resigned cursing could be heard from the deck. Sparrow's antic seemed par for the course, as the crew quickly adjusted to the abrupt turn.

"I haven't.. In ages…" Norrington said, going more pale than his usual pasty skin tone, if such things were possible. When Sparrow continued to stand back with a raised eyebrows, Norrington reached for the wheel, and clasped the wood in his hands. The ship steadied immediately.

Norrington looked around at Groves, who was clenching on to the railing while trying to maintain a calm expression. He was failing miserably. "Sir," he said, "Perhaps we should let the captain…"

Even his lieutenant had no faith in him? Norrington ignored Groves, and looked back out at the sea. "Was that little stunt supposed to shake me, Sparrow?" he said. When Sparrow didn't respond, he turned to look at the pirate, who was staring at him with slightly narrowed eyes. "Well?"

The pirate broke out in a smile, the seriousness of his expression immediately vanishing. "Shake you?" he said, crossing his arms. "I thought it was impossible to shake the great royal navy commodore."

"Well, I must admit," Norrington replied as he turned back to the helm, "I am a bit rusty."

"Is that so, love?" Sparrow replied.

"Yes, you would be surprised at how little time I spend on ships these days," Norrington continued. "I think it's been several years since I've actually helmed one." Slowly running his thumb over the fine wood of the wheel, he smiled. "One does miss it, I suppose."

Before Sparrow could reply, Norrington looked over at the pirate. "And don't call me love, I am not a woman."

He missed the grin on Sparrow's face as he looked back out over the ocean. With a straight back, he calmly held the helm steady as the waves broke against the hull of the Black Pearl. The crew had set into a steady rhythm, only vaguely paranoid of the Dauntless lurking behind them.

Just as Norrington was relaxing into steering the ship, a rogue wave crashed violently against the side, sending the Pearl careening over with barely enough time to right itself before another wave pounded across the hull. Norrington squared his shoulders as he gripped the wheel, keeping it from whirling out of control.

Suddenly, there was a grip on his hands, and he looked down to find Sparrow had placed his tanned fingers over Norrington's pale ones. "Relax, Commodore," the pirate said against Norrington's ear, "Just ride with the waves, don't tense up."

With the pirate's chest flush up against Norrington's back, Sparrow kept his grip tight on Norrington's hands as the waves continued to burst forward with unrestrained fury. Norrington narrowed his eyes against the whipping wind, trying to stay in time with Sparrow's steering.

"Looks like a storm is brewin', aye?" Sparrow yelled, causing the commodore to jerk back from the sudden sound. The pirate braced himself, holding Norrington steady as the man tried to right himself.

"Please do not shout," Norrington said, the back of his neck prickling at the sensation of Sparrow breathing on his skin. "If you release me, I could hand the wheel over."

When Sparrow didn't respond, Norrington twisted his head around, trying to see the pirate out of the corner of his eye. Sparrow was staring down at him, the pirate's khol-lined eyes zeroed in directly on the pale skin of Norrington's neck. "Sparrow," Norrington shouted, "Let me go, man. We can't both steer the ship."

A spark of recognition alit in Sparrow's eyes, and the pirate moved away from Norrington, who quickly backed up towards Groves. His hand on the wheel, Sparrow turned to wink at the commodore. "So now you trust my steering capabilities, do you?"

"In this circumstance," Norrington replied, breathing heavily, "I suppose, it would be for the best."

"Sir," Groves said, dropping a hand on Norrington's shoulder, "I suggest we either go below decks, or belt ourselves down." Just as he finished speaking, a torrential rain started falling from the heavens. "This looks pretty bad."

Norrington nodded as he looked towards the back of the ship, his eyes resting on the Dauntless behind them. His men were quite capable, yet he still felt the pangs of guilt that he couldn't be there for them.

"I agree with the man," Sparrow cut in, "You should go below." Turning to glance over his shoulder, he grinned at the two navy men. "Wouldn't want to lose my two precious passengers, savvy?"

''''

"This is horrendous," Norrington said, fighting off the urge to puke. He had survived through so many storms below decks as a lowly ensign, but that time was far gone now. He looked up at the wood ceiling wistfully, trying to remember what fresh air felt like.

"I think we're at the tail end of it," Groves replied, as stoic as ever. "There seems to be less violent rocking."

As if on cue, the light of day shown down into the ship as the deck door was opened. Sparrow and several other pirates stepped down, thoroughly soaked. Norrington jumped to his feet, and trotted over to them men.

"The Dauntless?" he said, waiting with tense shoulders.

"Fine," Sparrow replied, "the last time we saw them, that is."

Norrington paused, the color draining from his face. "Excuse me?"

"You see, love," Sparrow replied, placing a hand on his hip, "We had to give them the slip."

Eyes widening, Norrington sputtered as he tried to form words. "The slip?" he said, his voice cracking.

"Yep," Sparrow replied. He slid his gun out of the holster, and pointed it at Norrington. "I have to say, it was pleasing timing for that storm to show up." With a jerk of his head, he gestured over to the metal bars of the brig. "Now, if you don't mind."

"I don't understand," Norrington replied, "What's the meaning of this?"

"Commodore," Groves said from behind him, clasping on to his shoulder. "This probably isn't the time to ask questions."

"Aye," Sparrow cut in, reaching forward to knock Groves' hand from Norrington's shoulder with his gun, "This certainly isn't the time." He pointed towards the brig. "To the pen, Commodore."

Norrington nodded, and stiffly walked towards the brig, Groves following close behind. They both looked around when the metal door slammed shut, and Sparrow clicked the lock in place. Taking a step back, Sparrow appraised them with a grin.

"You see," he said slowly, "You may be above tricks, Commodore, but I would never trust the royal navy as far as I could throw it. The second I surrender myself to Port Royal is the second I hang from the gallows." He paused. "Savvy?"

Norrington's lip curled with disgust. "You had my word on it," he said.

Shrugging, Sparrow returned his gun to it's holster. "Alas," he said, "Your word just isn't good enough, love." He looked up at Norrington with a grin.

"But don't worry," he said, "You can make up for it by being me hostage."