-1Chapter Twenty

With Elizabeth on board my life slipped back into the calm normality I so cherished. I spent every moment I could in her company, leaving Captain Lewis to do his job unhindered by my tedious command. The day and half it took us to get to Isla de Muerta contained some of the happiest moments I have ever spent, showing Elizabeth around the ship, teaching her all I knew, delighted at her interest in seafaring life. The Governor watched from a distance, and when I looked back at him from where Elizabeth was letting the green water spray her as we glided along, or down at him from where the helmsman was teaching her to steer the ship, I thought that I had never seen him so happy. The realization that I was bringing him such joy made me doubly happy.

These blissful hours were only blackened by Elizabeth's occasional mood swings. Every now and then I saw a shadow cross behind her laughing eyes, and I constantly felt the gnawing doubt about her affection for Turner. I hoped desperately that what the Governor had said was true--that I could make her love me in time.

On the evening of the second day, when we were not more than two hours from our destination, I came upon Elizabeth in a corner of the ship, crying. She had left our dinner, remarking that she needed some fresh air. When she had not returned I had gone to seek her and assure her rather nervous (and rightly so) father that she was well. Her back was turned to me, but I could hear her heartbroken sobs and see her graceful figure quivering slightly in the moonlight. I was struck to the core, bewildered at the cause of her sorrow, every particle of my being wanting to do anything to stop her pain.

I closed the distance between us, wanting to enfold her in an embrace that would block out all of her troubles. Instead, I reached out a hand and placed it as gently as I could on her shoulder. She continued to cry for a few moments.

"Elizabeth." I breathed her name, edging closer until I could almost bury my face in her fragrant hair. "Elizabeth." I said again, my throat choked with emotion. She was suffering miserably and I could do nothing to help it. I reached out a tentative hand and slowly pulled back the hair which hung down, hiding her tear-streaked face. She recoiled ever so slightly, turning towards me, her eyes wide and uncertain. Tears still flowed down her cheeks, but her sobs quieted as I took a step closer, her face tilted towards me outlined in blue moonlight. I took one of her trembling white hands in my own, my face only inches from hers, small, slow gasps of sorrow escaping her perfect lips. I was breathing heavily now, lingering, shallow breaths that, coupled with the wine I'd had at dinner, made me feel dizzy and suddenly hot. Elizabeth's sobbing slowed, and her breathing soon matched mine. I swallowed hard, everything in my being urging me to close the space between our lips, to dry her tears with the passion I felt, to win her love by illustrating mine.

Yet there was a look in her eyes that stopped me. Not just the fear I had sensed before, but a plea. She didn't pull away, she didn't take her hand from mine, but her eyes begged me--for what I don't know--but the desperation there checked my heady ardor. I exhaled, suddenly aware that we were both trembling, as I stepped back. I bent slowly over her hand, bestowing it with the tenderest of kisses. As I straightened I thought I glimpsed a thank you in those soft brown eyes that once again filled with tears. Silently, she withdrew her hand and hurried past me below decks.

I stood there alone in the moonlight, troubled and confused. What was this fear, this deep sorrow of Elizabeth's? I had never seen her so unhappy before. The memory of that look in her eyes pierced me painfully, and mingled with my doubts about William Turner and, I realized, the feelings of guilt that began to creep upon me.

"Why didn't you go ahead and kiss her then, Jimmy?"

My face instantly contorted into the deepest scowl I could muster. Jack Sparrow stepped out of the shadows a few yards away. The absolute last person in the universe that I wanted to see at that moment. He sneered at me, and I noticed (inwardly cursing the incompetence of the crew) that he had managed not only to escape the brig, but he had somehow gotten his hands on a bottle of the Governor's brandy. To my convoluted mix of emotions was added fury and disgust.

"Sparrow." I growled. "What are you doing here?"

He pinched his face into mock contrition. "Sorry Jimmy. I couldn't sleep down there in the dark. Gives me nightmares."

I inwardly cursed myself for leaving my sword in the captain's cabin. Outwardly I cursed at Sparrow. "You rum-soaked whoreson." I recalled the foul language of my seafaring youth. I was so angry I could hardly speak the words.

He was unaffected. "That's not very nice--me mother's a lovely woman. Looks a bit like you, in fact. 'Cept with a rather better figure than what you've got." He gave a snicker and took a pull from his bottle. "And it's Brandy, by the way."

I let out a noise that was halfway between a snarl and a "bastard."

"Yes sir, Jimmy-my-boy." He drawled on. "I couldn'ah found a better love scene in Drury Lane. But you didn't kiss her." Another pull on the bottle. "s'wat I'da done. Ever'y good love scene needs a kiss."

"Unlike, you, Mr. Sparrow, I acknowledge the rules of propriety."

"Oh to be sure, Jimmy. But you know what I think?" He brought the bottle to his lips again, and teetered toward me as he spoke. "I think you cling to your precious rules and your precious society and your fancy hat and your fancy coat just because with out 'em--you'd have nothing. You'd be nothing. You'd just be simple little Jimmy-James Norrington. Not the virtuous, godly, right honorable Commodore--but a human being." He spat at me. He was close enough now I could smell the stench of the brandy as he leered at me. At that moment I felt I could not be more miserable if I were in flames. The worst part was that, somewhere in my subconscious a fear began to creep upon me like a fevered chill. The fear that he was right, that I could so easily switch places with the man swaying drunkenly before me. For a fraction of a fraction of a second the idea seemed appealing to me. I began to imagine myself taking Elizabeth, vanquishing Turner and not having to worry about any of it anymore. Horrified by such vulgar and mercenary thoughts, I pushed them away, livid at Sparrow for causing them.

" 's Somethin' ta think about, eh, Jimmy?" Before he could bring the bottle to his lips again I released my fist and knocked him hard to the deck. He lay there unconscious, whether from the drink or my blow I cannot say. I stooped, and, I am ashamed to say, let fly a few more powerful clouts upon his drunken form. Ignoring the tumult of my emotions, and the few tears that had wet my blazing cheeks, I bellowed for the nearest sailor to come and deposit Mr. Sparrow in the brig--and to "keep him there this time or it'll be your hide!"

I turned, searching for some place to be alone and sort through the inferno in my breast. I cursed Captain Lewis for occupying his cabin, cursed the ship for being so small and so open, cursed god and the world and my own pathetic self. I strode to the nearest knotted ladder and began to climb. I felt the familiar coarseness of the rope against my palms, and the sway of the ship becoming more pronounced as I climbed ever higher. Finally I reached one of long yards that held the sails out to catch the wind. I straddled myself securely over the staunch wooden arms as I had been taught to do when just a boy. The wind swirled past me, stinging my eyes and mingling with the almost invisible tears escaping with my silent and enraged sobs. Above me, the Caribbean moon shone between black clouds, and unbeknownst to me, in cave on an obscure island, pirates planned a murder.

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Author's Note: Hello all! I know it's been a long time and I apologize. Thank you for bearing with me and being such loyal readers in spite of my eternal absences. Certainly not the happiest chapter for James, but as we all know it doesn't get too much better from here on out. If you are living la vie collegiate like me, then I wish you the best of luck with all final papers/projects/exams!