Grandfather's visits were sporadic and always unexpected, though I treasured them…and not only because with each return, he brought back exotic souvenirs from his many travels. That night, we ate dinner, Mother, him, and I, where he regaled us with his various observations and encounters, then would inevitably ask the question Mother and I most dreaded: "Where's that husband of yours, Rosie?"
And then Mother would reply with her rehearsed responses she gave him every time, though the order changed each time; "He fares well." "You two just barely missed each other!" "He speaks of you often." This would be enough to tide him over, and he would move on to talking about himself once again.
Ever since I was small, my mother and I had been in agreement that whenever Grandfather was around, Father was always, "in the Locker," or "traveling abroad." She was convinced that if knew about the danger, he would act rashly and try to save the Dutchman himself. So? Grandfather was kept in the dark.
In the morning, he was gone to manage the restocking of his ship, but I caught him in the Brethren Court meeting room later in the afternoon, sipping at a flask of what I assumed was rum.
"Annie…" he croaked as I walked towards him. "Have I already remarked at how big you've grown?"
I grinned as I plopped into the chair next to him. "Twice already, but I don't mind!"
"It still catches me by surprise each time I see you," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "And how you look more and more like your father."
"Really?" I asked.
He cocked his head to the side. "Well, surely you must see it."
I quickly caught my mistake and tried to make up for it. "I mean…I suppose I don't compare myself very much to him."
He seemed to not take notice of my misstep, however. "Consider it a compliment," he said, pointing to his own face. "The less you look like me and Rosie, the less chance you have at ending up looking like this." He took a moment, then said, "Now go on, tell me what you've been up to! I hardly hear a thing about my only grandchild. …if you are my only grandchild, that is. Lord knows what Jack's been up to lately."
I laughed at his joke, but hesitated when his eyes turned to me, expecting an answer. What could I say to him? What have I been up to? Oh well, let's see… I've been spending the past two years doing nothing but planning and training for a day to betray my mother and possibly endanger my life. Anything close to the truth would be detrimental. So, I only found myself saying, "Oh, just…helping out around the island."
"I hear you're quite the writer," he said, "That true?"
I shrugged. "I'd like to think so."
"And what is it you want out of life?"
What did I want to do with my writing? I hadn't the faintest idea. "I'm…not sure," I answered.
He rephrased his query. "When it comes time to leave this world, what is it that you want to leave behind?"
I took a long pause before answering his question, reflecting deeply on my response. I wanted a great many things out of life, but rarely did I think about their lasting impact. So finally, I replied, "I suppose… I suppose I want to have helped restore a bit order to the chaos that is this world."
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "My, that's an undertaking," he remarked. "But a noble mission, I must say."
"If more people tried to live like that, maybe there would be less disorder to resolve," I postulated.
"Indeed." He was clearly impressed. I then watched as he leaned forward, reaching behind him for his coin pouch and procuring three gold coins. "Here," he said, extending them out to me. "Restoring order is no easy feat, so save these for when the waters get rough."
I gingerly took them from him, my mouth agape. These coins meant more to me than he knew—they meant Henry and I were even closer to getting our boat. "Grandfather!" I exclaimed. "Thank you so much! You have no idea how much this will help!"
"Help with what?" he asked.
Once again, I found myself saying too much. I opened my mouth to make another excuse and deflect his curiosity, but at that moment a thought occurred to me; What would get us to our destinations faster, a fishing boat or the Misty Lady? What would ensure our safety, a fishing boat or the Misty Lady? Who would be more equipped to navigate the oceans, two novices or Captain Teague? I could hear Mother's voice ringing in my ears, warning me never to tell him about our situation. But then again, what if he was the very resource Henry and I needed? What if he could help us free our fathers faster than we ever could have dreamed on doing ourselves? So, hesitantly, I said, "A boat. Henry and I…we were planning on buying a boat."
"For what?" he asked simply.
I took a deep breath. "Can…can I tell you something?"
He furrowed his brow and leaned forward in interest. "Of course," he replied. "Go on, what is it?"
"I…Mother doesn't want you to know," I stammered.
His interest peaked. "Go on."
I swallowed my apprehension, and began. "I haven't seen Father since I was little. He and the Dutchman are trapped on the ocean floor."
His eyes went wide. "By who?"
"We don't know."
"For how long?"
"Twelve years."
"Where?" His voice croaked in fury.
"Only a few leagues from here. They caught us on Return Day, when Will came to shore after his ten year servitude at sea. Mother and I got away, but only Will and Father remain down there. Henry has been there. He's charted it."
"And the boat?"
I felt myself shying away from his intense anger. "We've been saving to buy one. We've been preparing for years now to go save them, just Henry and I. Mother fears for any mortal's safety, that's why we haven't gone sooner and why we didn't tell you." I held up my hand which held the coins, my hands shaking and making them rattle in my palm. "This money would help us get it. But perhaps, with your ship and crew, we could work together to—"
With that, Grandfather rose, then marched out of the room. I instantly knew I had made a mistake. "No!" I cried, racing to catch up with him. "Mother told me never to say a thing! You can't tell her you know!"
He acted as though I wasn't there, so I was left to just follow along behind his brisk pace, my heart throbbing in my chest.
"Rose!" he called once he entered the storeroom.
Mother had just been wrapping up a trade with a customer, and once they had cleared the room, she came around the corner, clearly taken aback by her father's tense demeanor.
"Where's James?" he asked curtly. I kept my eyes downcast, cursing myself for my idiocy in telling him anything.
Mother cooly replied, "In the Locker with the Dutchman. There's much left to be charted and many more prisoners of Jones to set free."
"That's interesting," he growled. "How are they to do that if they are being kept prisoners themselves?"
I dared look up at my mother then, although I wished I hadn't. Her eyes gleamed in fury as she said, "How could you?"
"No," Grandfather corrected her. "How could you? Don't blame Anna for this, I commend her! How long did you think you could keep the act up without my knowing?"
Mother looked back to him, saying levelly, "Until I found a way to free them—"
"And how is that going?" he asked. "Where's your husband? Where's Anna's father?"
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "This is more complicated than anyone could have imagined. They're trapped!"
"So don't ask for help!" he spat back incredulously. "Instead you keep this to yourself. Tell me, tell Jack, tell—"
"'Tell Jack?'" Mother yelled back at him, throwing her arms out at her sides. "Where's Jack? You know as well as I do that he's just as he always is; Never around!"
He shook his head in disbelief. "Rosie, how many times have I been back here in the past twelve years, and you never said a word! We could help you!"
"Exactly," she said, her voice shaking in intensity. "That is precisely why I don't want either of you to know. You're mortal." She shook her head stubbornly as she stepped closer to him, her voice low. "Father, I've gone there myself. The first time, the Dutchman fired at my ship. It was destroyed. Henry nearly died. The second time it took everything in my power to break a current which disguises their location, then raise the ship to the surface, and when I did, I saw firsthand what horrors have befallen them." Her voice trembled as tears came to her eyes. "I don't even know where to begin."
He stepped closer to her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's alright," he murmured, clearly pained by his daughter's unhappiness. "I'll find away to get him home to you."
Mother sat for a moment with this thought, but then suddenly changed. "No," she protested, flinching away from his touch. "I can't put anyone else in danger."
"Why not?"
"I'm immortal, I can't be harmed," she explained, just as she had recited to me over and over again. "This is my burden to bear, not yours. I will find my own means and go about fixing it myself."
"Clearly that strategy is not working," Grandfather emphasized, "For here's Anna, a little girl searching for her father…does that not sound familiar?"
He meant her. Upon meeting Jack, Rose was introduced to their shared father, Teague, who in the interest of preserving Jack's already limited respect for him, renounced her as his daughter, instead calling her, "a gypsy changeling," and leaving her to be raised on her own until she ultimately found him again herself many years later. Clearly, his meaning wasn't lost on her, for she replied caustically, "Well, it looks like the cycle repeats itself. Two generations of fathers have let their daughters down."
Grandfather looked hurt by her words, but still protested, "James didn't leave Anna by choice."
"Didn't he?" Mother marched over to me and reached around my neck, holding up the locket and taking hold of Father's ring on the chain. "He gave this back to me. He said…" Her voice trailed as she looked at me. Not wishing to relive the memories, she only said, "Horrible things. He has given up. He has given up on himself and on us."
Grandfather persisted, "So then, so must you? Rose, you know how stubborn that boy is. Just as you refuse my help, so he is refusing yours. It's to protect you. Respect his wishes and let someone else do the work for once! If you take this all upon your shoulders, you'll be crushed beneath the weight."
Mother persisted, "I can't let you do that."
"What if we go together?" I asked, swallowing back my fear at getting involved in the row. "We go aboard the Misty Lady, and with Henry's navigation and Mother's powers, we work in tandem? Isn't it worth a shot?"
Grandfather sent a pointed glance towards Mother, as if to say, "Well?"
She gave a slight shake of her head, deflating my spirits. "Not until I know for certain what's out there." With that, she turned to go back towards her desk.
"You are oddly hypocritical," Grandfather called after her, stopping her motion. "You spend your life chasing an absent father, yet when given the opportunity to reverse the absence of your child's father, you hesitate."
Angry tears poured down her cheeks as she turned and hissed, "No, I spent my life chasing an absent father and mother. I'm at least one parent more to Anna than I ever had. And to that end, James is right; I must do what's right by her first, even if it's at his expense."
He shook his head stoically. "I'm not a part of those plans. Let me help you."
Mother wiped her face with her hands, then straightened herself. "If you want to go and be killed by whatever's out there, be my guest," she said, face hardened. "Just leave Anna out of it."
With that, she turned and began reorganizing her desk, as though neither of us were there. Grandfather turned to me and laid a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, love," he said sadly. "I can only imagine what hurt you must feel, but we must respect your mother's wishes."
He turned to go back to his ship, but I could have sworn that I saw him cast a wink back at me before he took his leave. I couldn't tell if that was what my mind was willing itself to believe or if it had actually occurred, but Mother icily ordered me to go to my room before I had a chance to analyze it too much.
Disturbed and feeling incredibly guilty for going behind my mother's back for nothing and potentially harming her relationship with Grandfather, I jotted down what I had done in my journal until my eyes grew heavy. I then laid back on my bed, running my fingers along the circular shape of father's ring before eventually drifting into a silent slumber.
Henry woke me with a firm shake of the shoulder. "Anna!" he cried, his voice trembling. "Anna, we need you downstairs at once!"
I was alarmed by his tone. Upon first seeing that it was early in the morning before the sun had even risen, I thought that perhaps the three of us, Grandfather, him, and myself, were about to make our getaway in the Misty Lady. But when I saw Henry's grim pallor, I knew it was something far more serious.
I leapt to my feet and raced barefoot down the stairs behind him and into the storeroom, where I was met by four men; Two of them were soggy, sooty, and blood-spattered, but relatively unscathed. Two more were in cots with horrible wounds, blood dripping onto the storeroom floor. But the image of the fifth man, who was clutching his bloodied stomach and was being tended to with the utmost haste by Mother sent shivers down my spine; It was Grandfather.
I rushed to his side, Henry on my heels. Mother looked up at me, swiftly ordering, "Anna, get the water basin. Henry, fetch your mother. Make haste!"
We both obeyed, Henry sprinting out of the room. My head still dizzy from sleep, I stumbled over to the water basin and fetched it and a cloth, returning them to Mother. She turned to the two men who were still standing. "You both. Grab a bucket and tread up the path to the freshwater spring. Bring it back and clean up your comrades. I'll be with you shortly, and more hands are on the way."
"Aye, ma'am," they replied, and raced off.
"Father," Mother said, trying to keep her voice level despite her panicked expression. "Father, it's me. Rose." His eyes were vacant, though his breathing persisted. She took hold of his wrists, which still were pressed against his wounded stomach, and tried to shift them. He could not be moved, however. "Father," my mother tried again. "You need to let me see your wounds, alright? We'll fix this!"
Finally, we together managed to pry his arms to his side, but in doing so, the blood which oozed from his stomach began to drip wildly to the floor. "Another cloth!" Mother ordered, once the one I had brought over was quickly soaked through.
By that time, the men had returned and had begun to help the other injured men. Elizabeth raced through the door, also clearly just having been awoken. "What's happened?" she cried.
"I'm not sure," Mother responded. "I need you to aid the other men while Anna and I tend to my father. Can you do that?"
"Of course," Elizabeth replied. As she began to get to work, she furiously looked up at Henry. "What did you do?"
Henry's eyes were as wide as saucers. "The Misty Lady…they sunk her."
"Who?"
"The Dutchman," he stammered. "We saw them…they…fired. But it wasn't them…it wasn't—"
"Henry!" Elizabeth cried, shaking him from is hysteria. "You went aboard the Misty Lady?"
"Teague came to me and asked me what I knew," he replied. "He made an offer for us to voyage out there together and retrieve them. I couldn't refuse, I—"
"You could have!" Elizabeth spat. "None of this would have happened! Henry, my god…"
"I know," he said, hanging his head low. "I'm…I'm so sorry."
"It was like the ship was acting on its own, ma'am," one of the lucid sailors reported to Elizabeth. "The crew…they was just standing together at the helm, but none of them's what was firing at us. They're shadows, ma'am. That's what's keeping 'em."
"Aye," the other corroborated. "We fired back, not to sink or kill, of course. But they caught our mast and put a hole straight in our brig. Then the whole ship began to quiver. It was like…the shadows…they had come aboard."
"The ship just…crumbled beneath us," Henry said shakily. "More cannon fire. Many were hit…we're all that's left."
They were silent for awhile, then the first man continued, "We's all that what's left. Me n' Charles caught a longboat, pulled Murphy n' Addison aboard, found yer boy with the Cap'n, ma'am. We came straight back."
Henry and I exchanged a glance. Though I was furious with him for trying to leave the island without me, my face was frozen in shock. He only looked sadly back at me.
I turned back to my mother as she continued to dab at Grandfather's horribly marred torso. She was silent, completely unfazed by the report Henry and the former crew of the newly sunken ship had just reported. There was no time to be mad at Teague, scold Henry, or weep for what was lost; Grandfather's life was at risk.
"We'll just get you cleaned up," Mother was cooing peacefully to him, "I'll stitch you back together, and you'll be right as rain in just a few days. Back on the sea again in no time, I promise."
His breathing grew more staggered and inconstant as he struggled to move his head so that his eyes could look into Mother's. "I saw…the boy," he gagged, choking on his own blood that I raced to mop up with a cloth.
"What boy?" she asked.
"James," he gagged. "He's still…waiting."
"Shh," Mother calmed him, "Don't try to speak," she said. "I'm glad you found James."
He shook his head wildly and uncontrollably to emphasize his next words; "Wasn't him. …don't blame him."
Mother's eyes filled with tears. "I won't," she whispered.
Grandfather then tensed his shoulder muscles, writhing in pain.
"No!" Mother said in alarm. "He's drifting!" Looking to me, she handed me the cloth, saying, "Maintain pressure. I'll be right back!" She then darted off to retrieve her surgical kit, leaving me and Grandfather alone.
With his free hand, he placed a firm grip over the hand I had dabbing at his abdomen.
"…Jones," he whispered to me, his eyes widened in horror.
My heart raced at this. "What?" I asked him. "No, you…you must be mistaken. Jones—"
"JONES," he growled insistently. "I heard him! He's got them!"
I waited for more from him, but when his mouth began to spew more blood, I calmly conceded, "Alright, Grandfather, alright. Just rest now, yes?"
But he was restless. He took his hand off of mine, reaching for his belt and ripping his full coin pouch off of it. Hand shaking, he pressed it into my hands. "Take it," he said, struggling to form the words. "For the boat."
Tears poured down my face. My hand squeezed his and the pouch as I whispered, "I will, Grandfather. I will."
My mother returned shortly thereafter, and I pocketed the pouch and returned to assisting her as she worked. He was peaceful for a time, still struggling for breath while my mother tried to find a way to stitch the hopelessly torn open skin back together. After a time, he moved his hand to stop her from working, taking both of her hands in his. "I'm…sorry," he whispered.
Mother began to cry at this. "No, no, don't talk like that," she said. "We're almost done now, I promise."
We were nowhere close to done. I finally began to see that this was hopeless; My Grandfather was about to die.
He knew it too. "I'm sorry…I left."
"None of that matters now," Mother insisted. "Remember what you told me? You'd do right by me?" She squeezed his hands in hers. "You did. You did for both me and Jack, Father. And James. And Anna. You did."
His breathing slowed after that. It slowed until I couldn't see his chest moving anymore. It slowed until I saw his hands go limp in Mother's.
And that's what I saw Mother collapse, sobbing into his shoulder. That's when I felt Elizabeth pull me into her chest and lead me back upstairs and away. That's when I heard Henry whimpering to everyone and no one all at the same time, "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
I don't remember much else from that night. My memories blessedly end there. However, I wrote something that morning in my diary that continues to haunt me to this day:
"How do people live with themselves, killing other people? Looking into another person's eyes and consciously taking that life away. That person who loved and was loved, and laughed and caused laughter, and cried and caused tears. How does one make the decision in a split second to take that all away, to wipe it clean from the Earth? No more loving, no more laughter, no more tears. Just…a memory.
Father's killed many people. He's had to. So did Grandfather.
I made my first kill tonight. I'm a murderer. By telling him the truth…I killed Edward Teague."
We buried Grandfather on a bluff that overlooks the Cove. If a pirate as formidable as Edward Teague could not die at sea, we found it at least fitting that he forever look down upon the place where he presided over the Code he loved so much.
Henry blamed himself. He wouldn't stop apologizing to Mother and I, as though that was the only thing he felt he can do to make things better. But it wasn't him, I knew this. The only blame I could place upon him was for leaving without me, but the outcome would have been the same regardless.
Elizabeth and Henry left Mother and I alone with the grave after a time, walking together back towards the fortress where they were to meet us for dinner later on.
I looked up at Mother to gauge her reaction. She hadn't cried since the moments when Grandfather had died, but her face was pale and her eyes were nearly closed with exhaustion. At her appearance, I felt the guilt rise up inside me again and the tears spill over my eyelids. "I understand…if you blame me," I sobbed.
Mother's face twisted in pain as she regarded me. She wiped away a few tears as she cupped my face in her hands and turned it upwards to look at her. "Never," she whispered. "This is why I wouldn't tell him sooner; I knew he would go off and do something stupid." She sighed. "All he ever wanted was to make things right between the both of us. And knowing how much I loved your father… In his mind, saving him would set everything right, and prove to me that he loved me." Her lip quivered as the emotions began to well inside her. "The fool," she murmured. But she looked sincerely into my eyes, placing her hands on my shoulders as she said plaintively, "But I would never blame you for this. Nor Henry, or anyone else. He acted on his own volition. This was the outcome."
I began to cry harder. "If I would have just listened to you…all along, I…"
She let me cry for a time, pulling me into her embrace. Finally, she said, "Do you see now why I can't let you go galavanting off on your own? We are dealing with dangers none of us can be prepared for." She pulled me away to look into my eyes once more. "I have just lost my father. I have gone through losing many more. Don't you ever ask me to go through losing you in this way. I could not bear it."
"But," I protested, wiping my face with my sleeve. "What about Father? Will? How will they ever go free without us risking our lives for theirs?"
Mother took a deep breath, then looked away to the fresh mound of dirt that had been unearthed for her father's body. I saw as her eyes traced the shape, up to the cross that Henry had welded together from Grandfather's cutlass. She finally began to let tears fall again as she whispered, "Anna, I need you to start believing something. Because it's what he wants, and…I'm afraid we must start honoring it."
My heart raced as her dark eyes bore into mine.
"Your father, James Norrington," she began, two fresh tears falling from each eye, "Died 21 years ago onboard the Flying Dutchman. He was killed as an Admiral under the British Crown by Bootstrap Bill Turner." Her breathing grew staggered and her face tensed as she sobbed, "He died as a traitor, freeing Elizabeth and the crew of the Empress. He…he leaves behind a bastard daughter he bore with a mistress he kept in Port Royal. His body was thrown to the sea by Davy Jones and was never recovered." Together, we wept as she said with finality, "He's gone…and he's never coming back."
She tried to pull me into another embrace, but I moved back from her reach. "Anna," she said. "There's nothing more that can be done."
I opened my mouth to protest, but only another sob was expelled. My feet wanted to fly from that place, so I turned and ran as fast as I could down the hill, past Henry and Elizabeth, through the storeroom, up the stairs and straight into my room.
I sat on the floor, my back against the wall facing my bed. From my vantage point, I could stare at the crates of cargo and supplies I had accumulated in preparation for my voyage with Henry. For hours, I deliberated on what to do, fighting with myself on what move to make.
I knew I would refuse to give up. I refused to adopt that story as my own. I was not a 20 year-old bastard child of a Navy traitor. I was the 14 year-old daughter of James Norrington, future Captain of the Flying Dutchman. Though not alive, he wasn't dead, and he was suffering an agonizing existence on the ocean floor. My Grandfather died trying to save him, and I vowed to do the same if it meant setting things right and "restoring order to the chaos."
But…then again, I understood Mother's plight, and I could not imagine what heartache she felt. If I died, she would be utterly destroyed.
…I suppose the only solution is to stay alive then, I thought.
I waited until nightfall and I could no longer hear Mother's footsteps creaking through the halls. I then darted to my journal, flipping open to the page where I still kept the folded note I had originally left for my mother on my first escape attempt. The words still rang true, and so I slid it under her bedroom door. I dragged my provisions outside to the docks, then marched to the lighthouse in the dead of night.
I snuck into the lighthouse through the back window, and quietly tiptoed into Henry's room, who I was unsurprised to find still awake.
"Let's go," I said simply.
He shook his head in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
I untied Grandfather's coin pouch from my belt and tossed it to him. Hearing the clinking of the coins against each other, his eyes went wide as he understood my meaning.
I nodded in affirmation. "Let's get our boat."
