Disclaimer: POTC is, sadly, not mine. What a surprise.
Summary: Norrington meditates on duty, responsibility, and pirates.
Duty
I am Commodore James Norrington, and I know my duty. I have always known it, since the time I was a small boy; just as I have always know that I would be an officer of the Royal British Navy. My father was an officer, as was his father, and so the Navy was the place for me. No one was particularly interested in my opinion on the matter, and in any case it would have changed little. I was content to set sail under the flag of the British Empire and the approval of His Majesty the King. If I occasionally had other thoughts, I kept them as just that: Thoughts. Not plans or deeds or even words. Merely thoughts, as intangible as the wind; though wind has power in it, and so do thoughts. Perhaps that it why they have never—quite—left me, even to today. But they are still only thoughts, and I keep them that way, because I know that is what I should do.
Just as I have always known my duty, I have always known what I should do. And I have always strived to do it. I knew I should enter the Navy, and did. I knew I should serve my commanding officers willingly, obediently, and unstintingly, and I did. I knew I should strive to rise in rank, and I have. I knew the final thing I should achieve is marriage to a fine woman, and I…have not. Though not for lack of trying on my part. Women are far more difficult to please than commanding officers.
But I did not intend to meditate on women. I intended to meditate on duty. Responsibility. Service to others above oneself.
Though on occasion, service to others and oneself can coincide. And so it has been for the last several years, as I have pursued one particular goal. My personal crusade, as it were: to rid the Caribbean of pirates, to protect the people, towns and ships of this area from attacks, and to protect myself from something far less tangible.
I have captured twenty-four pirates. One escaped. I have watched twenty-three hang. Some rich, some poor; some strong, some weak; some proud, some penitent; some missing a hand or an eye or a tongue. I have watched them all hang. I remember each one distinctly. And for every one I have told myself of their crimes against the Crown and the people I have sworn to protect. And I have reminded myself that for every less pirate there is one less threat. And one less temptation.
I work for the day when there will be no more pirates. No more pirate captains to lure upstanding citizens away from their lives. No pirate crews to boast of daring adventures. No more temptation. I doubt that day will ever come, but I work for it nonetheless.
Because I am Commodore James Norrington, and I know my duty.
And so the day will never come when I abandon my post, throw my wig off the end of the dock, and join a pirate crew. No matter how much I might think about it.
Fin.