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Chapter 11: Beyond the Wig

The next morning found Norrington awake bright and early; sitting in his parlor reading through the reports that Gillette had given him the day before. Though while his eyes moved across the words, he did not see them as his mind was wandering elsewhere. The night before, he had scavenged all the papers he could about registered privateers, merchant logs and retired seaman of the area. The name 'Rose' had come up several times, but he was not assured that one Rose was the right Rose until he had cross referenced a group of coffee shipments from Falmouth to England with the local area of the former naval officer. It was then that his heart stopped and he threw the papers into his desk as opposed to the wall. Life had become terribly complicated.

So here he was, supposedly studying the records of a stolen ship, but in reality dreaming of his past. He was taken back to his childhood, where in England he had signed onto the HMS Inquisitor and earned his reputation as a fine seaman.

He remembered the day he arrived at the docks, when he had clung to his mother and asked her not to leave him behind. She had simply smiled at him and kissed him on the cheek, assuring him that she would be there for him when he returned home. Young James had felt abandoned then and the feeling had only gotten worse when he made it to his lessons. None of the boys really knew one another, and those that were acquainted readily grouped together. But there was an uneven number of aspiring midshipmen, and it was easy to guess who was without a companion.

James had spent those first few years observing his classmates, studying their actions and determining their characters. This time had laid the groundwork for the man he had become: a great judge of character but also detached, in a way, from those around him. He threw himself into Shakespeare and other such literary works to dull the pain of his loneliness, and he began to show his inner feelings less and less. By the tender age of sixteen, James had already perfected the mask with which he dealt criminals and disobedient officers.

He had been assigned to a ship called the HMS Inquisitor, under the command of Captain Robert Delmar Rose. Rose was a man who led by courage and courtesy, he respected his men and they too would respect him. He was just and fair with his crew, and tried to show no favoritism to his officers. However, Captain Rose was as tight about running his ship as humanly possible. Officers were to be treated with the utmost respect, there was to be no fighting among the crew and the midshipmen were to be prompt and groomed at any calling. He was not a cruel man by any standards, but once his faith in a man had been lost, it was gone forever.

Because of his top marks in schooling and his professional attitude, James had been recommended by his captain to sit the Lieutenant's test at eighteen. Now he was not without enemies, in fact James had acquired many of them during his time aboard the ship. But in his excitement, he could not see the danger of his situation. Whilst he was pouring his soul into a long, heart felt letter to his mother, a particularly nasty bunkmate of his grew ever more jealous of his good fortune. The boy's name was Saul, and he had the ear of the 1st lieutenant, Mr. Bryant.

Saul came from a family of actors, so he knew how to play his parts perfectly well. Along with another mate, Thomas, he set a plan in motion that would eventually cause Norrington's test to be denied. What had Norrington done? He'd beaten them. Why? Because Saul and Thomas had cornered him on the midshipman's deck and harassed him. They called his mother a whore, his sisters tramps, his father a drunken gambler, all the things that they knew would drive him over the edge. It did, but they didn't know just how far over the edge James could go. The repressed feelings that he had buried surfaced in one scarlet haze and everything just floated out of his control.

He had awoken the next morning bruised and battered, fully remembering that he had attacked two fellow midshipmen. It had been a brutal assault; a part of James that he never knew existed had been released. That night he had been a caged animal and backed into a dark corner from which the only escape was to fight and to survive. So he did, he lashed out with all his strength and fought as hard as he could. His rational mind was locked behind four red walls, and so he watched the brawl in hues of red and rage.

Specific details of the fight were blurry in his mind, but he knew that he had caused serious harm to his fellow mates. He had gouged the eyes of one but the other had scampered away with a fracture or two, nothing so severe as the blood trickling off the brunette's blackened orbs. James though, only suffered a few bruises, walking away virtually unscathed. That did not mean to say that he expected the same to happen when it came to his formal reprimand. He'd be kissing the gunner's daughter before long, or so he believed.

Either way, he didn't have to wait too long for punishment, because he was soon summoned to the Captain's cabin.

Captain Rose and Lieutenant Bryant were both awaiting him. He had never seen Bryant look so angry, but Rose was incredibly calm and less animated then he was at other punishments. The two officers stood behind a large oaken desk, Bryant held a letter in one hand and stroked stick of a lit candle with another.

"You know why you are here?" asked the Captain solemnly. His deep voice was laced with undertones.

James nodded his head and looked to the floor respectfully.

Before the Captain could continue, Bryant jumped straight into the fray, "I hope you realize what you've done! We've lost two midshipmen thanks to your temper! Saul may never see again because of you!"

"Mr. Bryant!" chided Rose, "that is quite enough. His punishment is under my jurisdiction. I shall thank you not to interrupt again."

Bryant leveled a glare so hateful on James that had it of been able to kill, there would be no more left of the young man. The same could have been said of Bryant, if the midshipman's thoughts ever became true.

"I am very disappointed in you, James. Very," the Captain remarked. "You have such a bright future ahead of you and what do you do? You throw it away as if it is nothing. I expected you to be of a tougher mettle, too prudent to fall to the trap that Saul and Thomas set for you. I was wrong, obviously."

Norrington held back a sigh; they were going to send him home. What would his mother think? She had been so proud of when he was assigned to the Inquisitor, but now she'd think him a horrible, unworthy son. Of all the rejections he had faced, hers would be the most painful.

"So what do I do with you, young Mr. Norrington? By all accounts I should send you home when we reach port, you should never be able to set foot on a ship again." Rose flicked his hand palm up towards his lieutenant, its gold brocade trim shimmering in the candle's light. Bryant placed the letter he was holding onto the black silk and the Captain snatched it away. "I have considered this all night, dear boy. I tossed and I turned deciding if I should mark this down and use it against you to run you out of a career. I also wondered if I should let the whole matter slip. But no. That will not do.

"A captain is like God on his ship, and like God he is omnipresent. I should be all seeing, all knowing of every detail. So to say that I had no knowledge on your fight with Saul and Thomas would be a lie to myself and to my superiors," the Captain smiled, "but then who is to say that those two have not rightfully deserved what came to them? They did, after all, use language that is quite unbecoming of future officers and for that I can hold them just as guilty as I do you. Alas that you are not the one in the infirmary, how I would have liked to have seen those boys wail!"

Bryant stiffened, but the other man only laughed. He shook his fair head a few times, smiling all the while, before he composed himself again. "James, I do like you. Truly, I think you are one of the most competent men that have served under me in all my years at sea. But as I said, alas that you were not the one to be found injured. I can not, in good conscience, allow you to walk away from this encounter without certain punishment. Therefore," he paused, "I have decided that I must revoke your nomination for the Lieutenant's test. You may try again in a year or two, when this mess has quieted down or never again at all. It is up to you. Yet this incident shall not leave the ship. There will be no reports from me, or my lieutenants about your scuffle. I want you to have a fantastic career in the navy without the shadowing doubts of your past. I only hope you can use this new opportunity wisely."

James nodded his head, "I shall."

Captain Rose smiled, "and you shall participate in no other fights? Aboard my ship and elsewhere?"

"No other fights, sir." Norrington responded. He paused a moment, hesitating what to say next. "Errr…I thank you for giving me an opportunity…to redeem myself."

"I would only hope," said the Captain, "that you would do the same for one of my own."

Norrington's chest bristled with pride. "I would, sir."

The Captain nodded, "you may go."

Bryant turned his head in disgust as James left.

As far as memories went, that was all he wanted to remember. In that long ago time, Norrington hadn't been as preoccupied with the rules as he was now. After that incident though, he meticulously picked his path through life, following the rules and avoiding those who might provoke him other wise. When he gained sufficient rank, climbing up to lieutenant and then to captain, he was allowed the luxury of choosing what battles he wished to fight. Once had reached a steady position, then he had started to put his foot down and show his true prowess at command. He didn't know whether his days were better because of this punishment or if they had become even worse. But what he did know was that he had skimmed the reports twenty times and not a word had stuck.

Accepting that today was not the day for reviewing Gillette's documents, he placed the papers back on the table. The Commodore knew that he would never read them in his current state. Slowly he stretched his legs and leant back. He vigorously scrubbed his face with his palms to arouse his sense; he had a busy day of report writing and fort repairs. He could not afford to let the past drag him down.