A/N: Apologies for taking so long getting this chapter out. I'm at camp now where there are a couple communal email computers for like a hundred of us, so it's kind of hard for me to get time to update, but I did it (yay!) So please review and tell me what you think so far.
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The worst part of the whole arrangement, Norrington reflected morbidly, was that he really didn't expect to need saving. He didn't think Sparrow would do worse than taunt him and drop him off on some far-away barbaric island where it would be difficult and undignified - but not impossible - to find a way home.

Sparrow was, after all, a terrible pirate. He was a first-rate comedian and a wonderful actor, projecting mental deficiency as easily as stone-hearted ruthlessness, but he'd never kill a prisoner in cold blood. "A terrible pirate," he echoed his thoughts aloud.

"That bad, eh?"

Norrington whirled around. There stood the captain in all his flamboyancy, leaning on his cutlass like a walking stick and smiling so widely that his gold teeth gleamed in the last of the sunlight. "Captain Sparrow, would you mind telling me why?"

Jack came to stand by his side. His expression, always difficult to analyze, became even more enigmatic in profile, and Norrington soon gave up trying to read him. "You first. You had a few cannons. Why surrender to a ship that might well refuse you quarter?"

"Don't insult my intelligence," Norrington said irritably. "I recognized the Pearl and I recognized you. Do you think I would have run up the white flag for any other?"

"Thought so. You know me - or think you do, anyway." Jack nudged him with his elbow. "There you have it, then. That's your reason. I kept you here because I know you, too, and I think you'll make a nice addition to me ship." He paused. "Rather like our figurehead. Elaborately decorated, stiff as a board, covered in barnacles...well, you're not covered in barnacles. But you get the idea."

"Yes, I'm afraid I do." Norrington set his face resolutely. "You'll never turn me, you know."

"Of course, of course, you fly straight as a bloody arrow. Well, we'll soon see about that, won't we? Eat dinner with me," he added after a moment, "And then I'll find you something a little more comfortable to wear."

"I would rather go naked than let you dress me in filthy pirate's rags."

By now the crew was all gathered around, watching, and Jack shrugged. "All right, then. Off with your clothes." Norrington only stared in horror, and Jack elaborated. "Take off your clothes now, or I'll have ye keel-hauled."

"Enough is enough!" The prisoner drew his sword and regarded Jack levelly. "Kill me if you wish or set me free or do whatever else you please but I will not be mocked in this scandalous manner! On your guard."

The crew looked uneasy. They half-expected Jack to just shoot the prisoner where he stood - after all, that's what one did when one's prisoner pulled a weapon - but Jack actually seemed pleased. "Very well." He slipped out of his coat and hat. "I'll fight you in my very best pirate's rags and you can wear your bloody great Navy uniform. If you can still beat me I'll let you wear it till Judgment day, but if you lose...you'll take it off here and now and I won't hear another word of argument, savvy?"

He dragged his blade slowly along Norrington's and dropped into a low en guard. "Whenever you're ready, mate."

Norrington had obviously been well-trained in traditional sword fighting. Jack fought him up and down the deck slowly, in a thinly-disguised effort to learn exactly what damage he would be capable of in an actual battle. For awhile they felt out each other's strengths, neither working up to a frenzy. Norrington hoped people would think he was only using such a basic and relaxed style in order to match Jack's, but the truth was that he couldn't do very much else without taking off his coat.

One person who wasn't fooled was Jack. Once he saw for certain how constricting his opponent's uniform actually was, he started to press hard on the attack, leaping and ducking and cutting with such athleticism and brutality that Norrington couldn't possibly keep up. He fought circles around the Commodore and eventually stepped up and locked their blades between them. He held Norrington's gaze while they fought for blade control, then stomped on his foot as a total surprise move. Norrington lost his footing for the briefest second and Jack was on top of him, knocking his blade aside and driving something hard into his stomach.

The hilt, Norrington realized finally, from the ground. He winded me with the bloody hilt of his sword. "You're supposed to hit with the pointy end," he stated, looking up over the cutlass to glare at its owner.

Jack laughed, digging the tip a little harder into Norrington's windpipe. "Sorry, mate. I must have missed that lesson at fencing school." He backed away and let the Commodore stand. "And now, I believe we had an agreement...although, you did fight well," he mused aloud. "So, I won't make you take off all your clothes..."

He left the Commodore standing there in front of the whole crew, beet-red and almost crying with humiliation, wearing nothing but his hat.
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TBC.
Like I said, it's difficult to update here, but I have more a few more chapters on disk that only need uploading… I'll do my best to get them out ASAP. Let me know if you're enjoying this, and keep making it worth the effort!