When Norrington next awoke, it was nearly noon, yet he was loathe to rise
from the bed. It was somewhat disconcerting to him how incredibly
undisciplined he'd become less than two months away from the navy. He
groaned and rolled over, burying his face in the pillow. It's not like he
had anything to do. He was marooned in a pirate nest, he had no friends,
limited funds, and no foreseeable manner of leaving the island. He doubted
that there were any ships in the harbor that didn't belong to pirates, and
even if there were, he had no way of bartering passage. In a brief moment
of insanity which he immediately dismissed afterward, he considered
tracking down Sparrow and begging his old rival for aid. Frankly, though,
he'd rather have his gums scraped than bargain with that madcap. He still
had some dignity left, after all.
Finally, he rolled over and onto his feet. He pulled on his boots and hat and headed downstairs. Dabria wasn't in sight, so he simply walked out the front door. How was he going to spend the day? It was an odd feeling still, having to even ask that question. He wandered idly through the quiet streets of the town, stepping over the passed-out drunks, finally making his way down to the beach. He walked along the sand, past the harbor towards a relatively uninhabited portion of the island. There was a small lagoon created by a reef several yards out. The water was a clear blue- green and warm from the sun.
Norrington decided at that instant that the first thing he was going to do that day was take a swim. Glancing around to make sure no-one was present (though who would be?), he stripped down to his skin and slowly walked into the warm lagoon. Salt water wasn't exactly ideal to bathe in, but it felt like heaven. He was almost giddy. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done something like this. He hadn't been allowed to swim naked in the ocean since he was a very young child (and only then when his father was away on business, for he wouldn't allow such frivolous behavior in his sons). He closed his eyes and leaned backwards, floating in the warm salt water.
Norrington was nearly asleep when he heard what sounded like ruffling fabric. It took him several moments to react, but eventually he stood up in the water and opened his eyes. He caught sight of a small and extremely filthy child picking through the pockets of his discarded clothing. The child suddenly looked up, just as surprised as Norrington at being caught. Norrington suddenly registered what the child was doing and bolted out of the water, chasing down the dirty whelp who'd robbed his coin purse. The boy was devilishly quick though, dashing over the hill and back towards the town.
Norrington cried out in exasperation and dropped to his knees in the sand. He couldn't very well run into town after the brat wearing nothing but what he was born in. He started laughing again, as he had the day before, but this time rather than dissipating as it had begun, they turned into a sharp keening sound of anguish. Norrington finally shut his eyes tightly and bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from crying out of sheer frustration. He shook his head to clear mind and stood up, walking slowly back to where his plundered clothing lay to redress himself.
His life was officially over. He had thought that it was officially over when he'd been court martialed and booted out of the navy, he'd thought that was officially over when he'd joined that merchant vessel, and then when it sank, but he'd been wrong. The moment when his life officially ended was when that dirty urchin ran off with the only money he still possessed on his person. Oh he owned a bit of land and had accounts with more than one bank, but a fat lot of good that would do him here. He may as well be a beggar on the streets. At the end of the week, when the money he'd given to the innkeeper ran out, he would indeed be on the streets, if he were even still alive at that point.
Norrington sat on the hill, staring out at the ocean as the sun traveled across the heavens. As it neared the horizon, he finally pulled himself to his feet and walked back over the hill.
----
Slowly, Norrington made his way back through town to The Laughing Sailor. As he walked in the door, he was greeted cheerily by Dabria. He gave her a pathetic wave in return without even looking at her and was about to head back upstairs to re-bury himself in blankets and try to pretend he no longer existed when she grabbed his wrist and pulled him over to the bar, pushing him onto a stool.
"What happened this time?"
"What are you talking about? Nothing happened. I went for a walk, had a swim. Very pleasant."
"Yer lying te me. Ye look even more mis'rable than ye did las' night. If I didn't know any better, I'd guess yer dog jus' died or somethin'."
Norrington looked at the cheeky barmaid and gave her the biggest, most sarcastic grin he could muster.
"Oh no, I don't own a dog. You see, I was having a very nice swim in the lagoon beyond the docks when this delightful little child decided he'd play a little game and run off with my coin purse. So of course, I can buy no more food and at the end of the week I'll be sleeping under the stars. But no, everything is positively peachy."
"Jeezus, Geoffrey. Tha's quite a tale. Ye must have the worst luck of any man this side of the Atlantic. But don't worry so much. I won't let ye starve, or sleep on the streets."
She laughed lightly and walked away towards the kitchen. Norrington had the odd desire to strangle the life out of the uncouth woman, at least until she came back with another bowl of stew and set it down in front of him, followed by a mug of good rum.
"Here ye go, Geoff. Eat up. Drink too, good for what ails ye."
She pushed the bowl further towards him and practically shoved the mug into his hand. He wanted to strangle her again, but settled for glaring at her instead. He knew he ought to be showing gratitude for her kindness, but his ego was more than slightly injured at the notion of being someone else's charity case. Since reaching adulthood, he'd managed every problem he had without the aid of others, and he didn't care to change that now. He prided himself on being competent, regardless, or perhaps in spite of, what his brother always said of him.
"And stop makin' a mountain out of a bloody molehill. Things'll work out in the end. They always do, ye know."
Norrington wished that he could have her optimism, but at this point, he could only see an early grave in his future. Even if she fed him, that still didn't mean he had a means of leaving this shit hole. That's what it was, really. A shit hole. He hated the term, had chastised a man under him at one point for using the term on a regular basis, but at this point he felt it highly appropriate. Molehill indeed.
"A molehill, huh?"
He lifted the mug and gave it a sniff before taking a gulp. No watery beer tonight. That was fine by him though. For the first time in ages, he had no greater desire than to get thoroughly smashed. He just hoped Dabria would allow him to do so.
----
The Laughing Sailor quickly filled to capacity not long after the sun's retreat. Norrington was having a marvelous time. Lubricated by rum, he was full into a marvelous tale about a Scotsman and a three-legged donkey. It was the same ridiculous story that he had rolled his eyes at when he overheard one of his junior officers telling it to the other men years ago. He probably would have been astounded that he even remembered it had he been sober. He probably also would have noticed the three unsavory figures included in the group he was entertaining glaring at him in a most predatory way and casting meaningful looks at one another. He probably also would've recognized the shaggy-haired figure in the back corner of the room that could barely contain his curiosity, and then his own laughter which had nothing at all to do with the story being told.
Norrington finally finished his tale, which resulted in resounding laughter from every corner of the tavern. He excused himself from the group and stumbled outside to relieve himself in the alley. It was dark and cool out. Probably rain later, he thought idly as he pissed into the dust. As he turned around to return to the tavern, he ran into something large and rather solid. Leaning against the huge pirate's broad chest, he looked up into the man's cruelly grinning face. He mistook the expression for simple amusement.
"Oh, hello, sshir. Did jyoo like th'sto-ree?"
"Oh yes, Commodore, it was grand."
Norrington's expression shifted from one of oblivious happiness to one of confusion. His first thought was "but I'm not a commodore anymore" but it was quickly followed by one of "Oh shit!" He stood up and backed away from the man. It was only then that he noticed the two other pirates behind him.
"Yes Commodore, 'twas an amusing tale. I've an amusing tale too, ye know. One where me brother ends at the gallows."
The pirate shouted the last part, and Norrington gulped. He started to stumble along the wall, trying to move away from the pirates when a large fist connected with his head, sending him to the ground. He clutched at his head and tried to stand, to no avail. More fists came at him, hitting him everywhere. As the pain blossomed, he heard a shot go off, followed by a searing pain in his shoulder. He heard another shot, and a heavy weight fell across his chest as his world turned red, then black.
Finally, he rolled over and onto his feet. He pulled on his boots and hat and headed downstairs. Dabria wasn't in sight, so he simply walked out the front door. How was he going to spend the day? It was an odd feeling still, having to even ask that question. He wandered idly through the quiet streets of the town, stepping over the passed-out drunks, finally making his way down to the beach. He walked along the sand, past the harbor towards a relatively uninhabited portion of the island. There was a small lagoon created by a reef several yards out. The water was a clear blue- green and warm from the sun.
Norrington decided at that instant that the first thing he was going to do that day was take a swim. Glancing around to make sure no-one was present (though who would be?), he stripped down to his skin and slowly walked into the warm lagoon. Salt water wasn't exactly ideal to bathe in, but it felt like heaven. He was almost giddy. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done something like this. He hadn't been allowed to swim naked in the ocean since he was a very young child (and only then when his father was away on business, for he wouldn't allow such frivolous behavior in his sons). He closed his eyes and leaned backwards, floating in the warm salt water.
Norrington was nearly asleep when he heard what sounded like ruffling fabric. It took him several moments to react, but eventually he stood up in the water and opened his eyes. He caught sight of a small and extremely filthy child picking through the pockets of his discarded clothing. The child suddenly looked up, just as surprised as Norrington at being caught. Norrington suddenly registered what the child was doing and bolted out of the water, chasing down the dirty whelp who'd robbed his coin purse. The boy was devilishly quick though, dashing over the hill and back towards the town.
Norrington cried out in exasperation and dropped to his knees in the sand. He couldn't very well run into town after the brat wearing nothing but what he was born in. He started laughing again, as he had the day before, but this time rather than dissipating as it had begun, they turned into a sharp keening sound of anguish. Norrington finally shut his eyes tightly and bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from crying out of sheer frustration. He shook his head to clear mind and stood up, walking slowly back to where his plundered clothing lay to redress himself.
His life was officially over. He had thought that it was officially over when he'd been court martialed and booted out of the navy, he'd thought that was officially over when he'd joined that merchant vessel, and then when it sank, but he'd been wrong. The moment when his life officially ended was when that dirty urchin ran off with the only money he still possessed on his person. Oh he owned a bit of land and had accounts with more than one bank, but a fat lot of good that would do him here. He may as well be a beggar on the streets. At the end of the week, when the money he'd given to the innkeeper ran out, he would indeed be on the streets, if he were even still alive at that point.
Norrington sat on the hill, staring out at the ocean as the sun traveled across the heavens. As it neared the horizon, he finally pulled himself to his feet and walked back over the hill.
----
Slowly, Norrington made his way back through town to The Laughing Sailor. As he walked in the door, he was greeted cheerily by Dabria. He gave her a pathetic wave in return without even looking at her and was about to head back upstairs to re-bury himself in blankets and try to pretend he no longer existed when she grabbed his wrist and pulled him over to the bar, pushing him onto a stool.
"What happened this time?"
"What are you talking about? Nothing happened. I went for a walk, had a swim. Very pleasant."
"Yer lying te me. Ye look even more mis'rable than ye did las' night. If I didn't know any better, I'd guess yer dog jus' died or somethin'."
Norrington looked at the cheeky barmaid and gave her the biggest, most sarcastic grin he could muster.
"Oh no, I don't own a dog. You see, I was having a very nice swim in the lagoon beyond the docks when this delightful little child decided he'd play a little game and run off with my coin purse. So of course, I can buy no more food and at the end of the week I'll be sleeping under the stars. But no, everything is positively peachy."
"Jeezus, Geoffrey. Tha's quite a tale. Ye must have the worst luck of any man this side of the Atlantic. But don't worry so much. I won't let ye starve, or sleep on the streets."
She laughed lightly and walked away towards the kitchen. Norrington had the odd desire to strangle the life out of the uncouth woman, at least until she came back with another bowl of stew and set it down in front of him, followed by a mug of good rum.
"Here ye go, Geoff. Eat up. Drink too, good for what ails ye."
She pushed the bowl further towards him and practically shoved the mug into his hand. He wanted to strangle her again, but settled for glaring at her instead. He knew he ought to be showing gratitude for her kindness, but his ego was more than slightly injured at the notion of being someone else's charity case. Since reaching adulthood, he'd managed every problem he had without the aid of others, and he didn't care to change that now. He prided himself on being competent, regardless, or perhaps in spite of, what his brother always said of him.
"And stop makin' a mountain out of a bloody molehill. Things'll work out in the end. They always do, ye know."
Norrington wished that he could have her optimism, but at this point, he could only see an early grave in his future. Even if she fed him, that still didn't mean he had a means of leaving this shit hole. That's what it was, really. A shit hole. He hated the term, had chastised a man under him at one point for using the term on a regular basis, but at this point he felt it highly appropriate. Molehill indeed.
"A molehill, huh?"
He lifted the mug and gave it a sniff before taking a gulp. No watery beer tonight. That was fine by him though. For the first time in ages, he had no greater desire than to get thoroughly smashed. He just hoped Dabria would allow him to do so.
----
The Laughing Sailor quickly filled to capacity not long after the sun's retreat. Norrington was having a marvelous time. Lubricated by rum, he was full into a marvelous tale about a Scotsman and a three-legged donkey. It was the same ridiculous story that he had rolled his eyes at when he overheard one of his junior officers telling it to the other men years ago. He probably would have been astounded that he even remembered it had he been sober. He probably also would have noticed the three unsavory figures included in the group he was entertaining glaring at him in a most predatory way and casting meaningful looks at one another. He probably also would've recognized the shaggy-haired figure in the back corner of the room that could barely contain his curiosity, and then his own laughter which had nothing at all to do with the story being told.
Norrington finally finished his tale, which resulted in resounding laughter from every corner of the tavern. He excused himself from the group and stumbled outside to relieve himself in the alley. It was dark and cool out. Probably rain later, he thought idly as he pissed into the dust. As he turned around to return to the tavern, he ran into something large and rather solid. Leaning against the huge pirate's broad chest, he looked up into the man's cruelly grinning face. He mistook the expression for simple amusement.
"Oh, hello, sshir. Did jyoo like th'sto-ree?"
"Oh yes, Commodore, it was grand."
Norrington's expression shifted from one of oblivious happiness to one of confusion. His first thought was "but I'm not a commodore anymore" but it was quickly followed by one of "Oh shit!" He stood up and backed away from the man. It was only then that he noticed the two other pirates behind him.
"Yes Commodore, 'twas an amusing tale. I've an amusing tale too, ye know. One where me brother ends at the gallows."
The pirate shouted the last part, and Norrington gulped. He started to stumble along the wall, trying to move away from the pirates when a large fist connected with his head, sending him to the ground. He clutched at his head and tried to stand, to no avail. More fists came at him, hitting him everywhere. As the pain blossomed, he heard a shot go off, followed by a searing pain in his shoulder. He heard another shot, and a heavy weight fell across his chest as his world turned red, then black.