At last, after a three-day journey filled with mind-numbing boredom and nauseating anxiety for Lucy, the Conqueror arrived at her destination. Lucy was escorted out on deck as they approached the harbor, the captain certain she would be thrilled to see how close she was to being reunited with her father.
"From what I've heard-I hope it's not too impertinent of me to say so-but from what I've heard, you've had more than your fair share of bad luck with pirates," Captain Abernathy was saying.
"It's true," she replied, doing her level best to keep her mind occupied with the conversation at hand so it wouldn't wander to wherever her father laid in wait. "I've had dealings with pirates of one kind or another since I was a child." That much was true.
The captain chuckled, his eyes crinkling as he stared across the waves towards Port Royal. "That's more than most men aboard this ship can say," he said. "Most have only seen pirates from a distance. I imagine you could teach them a lesson or two about what they're really like."
"And what is a pirate really like to you?" she asked, intrigued.
"Oh, depends on which one," he replied, glancing over at her. "A great deal of them are the scum of the earth. Naught but drunkards and whoremongers. Some, though, are honorable men. Not many, but some."
She eyed him curiously. "Met any of those honorable ones?"
"Aye, a few. Heard tell of more. Heard there was one who tried to free his cargo of slaves only to have his ship burned along with all of them."
"So you're against the slave trade as well?" she asked, becoming more and more fascinated by this man.
He spat into the churning waves below. "Aye. Filthy thing that it is." Then he glanced over at her again. "But don't tell my masters I said so, they wouldn't take kindly to that." He chuckled again.
"Did you happen to hear the name of the pirate who did that?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Aye," he replied. "If I remember right, twas a man by the name of Jack Sparrow."
"I know the man personally," she said. Then, struck by a sudden candor, she continued, "I was there on the day you speak of."
"Were you now?" he asked, turning to face her. "And what was a bonny lass like you doing on a slave ship?"
She hesitated, unsure whether to tell the truth. Then she sighed. "Can you keep a secret?"
"Well, you're keeping one for me, aren't you?"
She smiled. "True enough." Taking a deep breath, she began. "Growing up, my brother Henry and I were always fascinated by tales of pirates and always bored out of our minds at home. Too many rules, too many restrictions. And the older we got, the more there were. So we decided to run away and become pirates. It made perfect sense at the time, we were only children. I borrowed some of his clothes so I could pass as a boy, and we stowed away on the first ship we saw that wasn't Royal Navy. Of course, it wasn't too long before we were discovered, but it was still too late to turn back. So they took us on as cabin boys of sorts. I remember a man called Bootstrap taking especially good care of us. He said we reminded him of his own son. When we landed in the West Indies, Jack did try to set the slaves free. But by then, Father had worked out what had become of Henry and I, and he had caught up to us." She sighed. "He had the whole crew branded and the ship burned. It took a deal with Davy Jones to raise it from the depths."
"That's quite the tale there, lass," he said. "You've had quite the eventful life."
She nodded absentmindedly, still lost in memories.
Just then, Norrington joined them at the rail. Abernathy nodded a greeting.
"How does it feel to be looking at home soil again?" the captain asked.
"Like going back in time," Norrington replied. "Doesn't it, Miss Beckett?"
Lucy's face was hard as she stared out over the water. "Indeed it does, Master Norrington," she replied, an edge to her words. Like going back to just two weeks ago when I last left this godforsaken place. Her eyes roved the island as it drew ever closer, every hill and structure laden with memories.
The Conqueror weighed anchor at the mouth of the harbor. Abernathy turned to face Lucy. "I suppose this is goodbye, Miss Beckett. It's been a pleasure." He doffed his hat, turned to shake Norrington's hand, then waved them on to the rowboat that waited to take them ashore.
Lucy settled into the boat opposite Norrington, whose mouth was set in an awful smirk. Two of the sailors clambered in with them, and they were lowered to the waves. Lucy trailed her fingers in the clear blue water, knowing it might well be some time before she felt the sea against her skin again. Tears gathered in her eyes at the thought, and she blinked them away impatiently. She would not give Norrington or her father the satisfaction of knowing how much this all hurt.
All too soon, their little boat knocked up against the dock, and Lucy found herself being helped out. Norrington followed her onto the dock, and then they both turned to look inland to where a carriage bearing her father's crest awaited them. Norrington strode ahead, and Lucy followed, every step laden with dread. She looked around for any escape, but the island was far too small to hide her from her father for long, and she had no way off of it. Not yet, anyway. So she stepped into the carriage with all the composure in the world, as though she were still the lady she had been when she had first come to Port Royal a year before. There would be time to escape her father later.
She and Norrington spent the journey in uncomfortable silence. Her father had sent a manservant to accompany them in addition to the driver and footman, and he shared the small cabin with them. At last, they slowed to a stop as they approached the front gate of her father's mansion. Lucy sighed as she stepped out, assisted by the footman. She had hoped she'd left this place behind her forever.
Norrington offered his arm to her. "It's only proper," he said, and when he glanced over at her, she saw a glimpse of the old Norrington in his eyes. The same dignified, noble man she had first seen standing at the top of a gangplank of the Dauntless, waiting to take her best friend away. She'd been so in awe of him then. Now he was only a broken shell, tormented by his demons.
Pursing her lips and not looking at him, she took his arm, her fingers digging into his arm, hoping vainly it might hurt. They continued down the path to the front door like that, the manservant following behind as the driver and footman whisked the carriage away.
As he opened the door for them, the manservant said, "If you'll just wait here in the foyer, I'll go tell the master you've arrived."
Lucy dropped Norrington's arm the moment he turned his back to head up the stairs. She looked up at him, eyes burning. "You'll regret this, James Norrington."
"I very much doubt that," he replied in his measured tone, looking down at her with a mocking smile.
The manservant came down the stairs again. "The master will see you now."
They followed him up the staircase and down a short hallway. The manservant opened the last door on the left and ushered them inside, where they found both Beckett and Mercer. Lucy's heart thumped hard as her gaze briefly met her father's before he looked away dismissively.
"I see you've returned my wayward daughter to me," he said to Norrington. "As well as these," he continued, holding up the letters of marque.
"I took the liberty of filling in my name," Norrington replied.
Beckett threw the letters of marque onto his desk and motioned Norrington forward. Lucy retreated until her back was against the window, folding her arms. She felt a little sick.
"If you intend to claim these, then you must have something to trade," Beckett said as Norrington stepped forward. "Aside from my daughter." Lucy clenched her jaw and looked out the windows to her right, the sunlight so bright it hurt. "Do you have the compass?" he asked in a quieter voice.
"Better," Norrington replied. Lucy could hear the smirk in his voice. Then he hefted a dirty brown sack onto Beckett's desk. "The heart of Davy Jones." Even Lucy couldn't help but look over. It pulsed inside the sack with a life of its own. She was seized with a sudden desire to snatch it from her father's desk and crush it, but she hung back.
"I believe you have earned your commission back," Beckett said. "Admiral Norrington."
Lucy's eyes flicked up to her father's satisfied face, then over to Norrington, whose shoulders were squared as he accepted the new title. So this is how treachery is rewarded. With a promotion.
"Now, if you'll excuse me," Beckett said. "I have some business to attend to with my daughter. Mercer will see to it that you receive everything you need." He waved them off, leaving father and daughter alone as Mercer shut the door behind them.
"Welcome back," Beckett said coolly.
"Hello, Father," she replied, lifting her chin high and staring into his icy blue eyes. She had never been more grateful than she was in that moment that she had inherited her mother's brown eyes.
"I see by your clothing and your attitude that your allegiances remain unchanged," he said. "Perhaps we can remedy that while you're here. I can't have you playing pretend any longer. You're no longer a child."
"You're the one playing pretend, Father, thinking you can rule the world," she spat.
He only answered with a cold smile. "We shall see."
He stood and paced evenly around his desk to her, coming to stand shoulder to shoulder. She stiffened. "If you run off again, or even attempt to, I will have Governor Swann executed, do you understand?"
Her throat closed. She could only nod.
"Good." He stepped back and waved her out. "Now go clean yourself and put on some fresh clothes."
Brushing past him, she tore the door open and stalked out of his study. Her maidservant stood waiting outside, a young, fresh-faced woman named Grace.
"I'm glad to see you back, miss, all safe and sound," she said, ushering Lucy down the hall. "It must have been a trying time for you."
Lucy smiled wanly, her mind and heart far away in the heart of the Caribbean aboard the Pearl. "I've seen worse times," she replied.