Chapter 8 - Unholy Alliance

The five of them sat in the Turners' front parlour, gloomily contemplating their situation. Elizabeth, who still clung to some of the customs she had been drilled in as a child, had made them all tea. Jack could never understand why the gentry thought that a nice cup of tea was the answer to all of life's problems - tell a squire that his house had burned down and chances were he'd ask for an extra lump of sugar to help with the shock. The tea had come in a proper bone china pot and had been poured carefully into matching cups, with saucers of course. She'd even set out sugar tongs and a little plate of biscuits, bless her. He held his cup carefully, worried he might break the damned thing and spoil her set.

"So what now?" asked Will.

"I must return to Port Royal, to lay charges" responded the Commodore. "If I set out immediately then within six weeks I can have Hollowell under arrest."

"How's that then?" said Jack mildly. Will, Elizabeth and the Commodore stared at him blankly - only Anamaria seemed to have spotted the gaping hole in Norrington's suicidal scheme, but she just raised her eyes heavenwards and kept her peace. "Were you expecting him to come quietly? He has you outgunned with Vigilance, no matter how many marines you can raise at Port Royal."

"I can call on other Captains."

"He has a bigger ship, he's older than you and he's the son of a Viscount. Do you really think they're going to take your word over his?"

Norrington scowled. "So you think I should just go back to Port Royal and hope that he leaves me be? Forget my crew and allow that swine to continue his murderous little scheme?"

"No, but think about it mate, you need evidence, hard evidence."

"Where do you suggest I get that?"

"Fort James would be your best bet, I'm thinking. He's bound to have account books - you Navy types write everything down."

"Sparrow, can you not hold on to an idea for one moment? First you tell me it's too dangerous to return to Port Royal, and now I'm supposed to march into Fort James and demand Hollowell hands over his personal ledgers?"

How on earth did any Naval officers live long enough to be made Admirals? All this duty and gentlemanly behaviour softened their brains, for sure. "I didn't say to go in while he was there, mate. First you get him away from the fort, then you march in and demand his books from whatever poor sod he left behind, savvy?"

Hauling the crew out of their various Tortuga boltholes and back onto the Black Pearl took the whole of the rest of the day. They were none of them best pleased to be leaving so soon and the sight of Norrington striding up the gangplank as though he owned the ship was hardly a help. They finally slipped anchor about midnight, just in time to catch the tide.

The Commodore had been horrified to find that the Turners were to accompany them. Jack wasn't sure whether it was the fact that Elizabeth was happy to travel on the Pearl, or if he was still uncomfortable in her company now that she had married Will. When he discovered that the pair shared a cabin (for a lady, in Norrington's, world should always have her own private room) he was absolutely mortified. The Commodore didn't seem to have much understanding of women - he still seemed to think that Elizabeth, as a well born lady, was a delicate creature, pure of thought, who needed to be sheltered from the harsh truths of the world. That marriage would have been a total bloody disaster, even if William had never been born.

The surly behaviour of Jack's crew did not escape the notice of an experienced officer like Norrington. He hung around on deck, his supercilious gaze seeming to see every humiliating moment as Jack jollied the men along with fine talk of rich pickings on the return voyage from Jamaica. He even tried sweet talking Cotton's bloody parrot - bad move that - the thing had a bite that would do credit to a shark. He'd finally had enough one evening four days out when he'd spent an irritating half hour trying to make conversation the men on watch and got nothing but non-committal grunts in return. Talking to himself was something Jack was pretty good at, but doing it in company was not a rewarding experience. Nobody he had ever met, in all his voyages, could sulk like a crew of pirates deprived of promised shore leave (not even that lass in Singapore, whatever her name had been).

He walked over to the Commodore "I need a word with you." Norrington raised an eyebrow and stayed where he was. Jack stepped in closer, something he knew made the other man acutely uncomfortable. "My cabin. Now."

A few moments later they were facing each other, either side of that same battered old table. The atmosphere this time was decidedly frosty.

"Stay out of my way" Jack said softly. It had been a long day, hell a long month.

"Having trouble with your crew, are you? Well, I suppose it's not the first time" Norrington stood there in Will Turner's borrowed jacket, bereft of his ship, his crew and quite possibly his command. And yet he still managed to sound so scornful. Just another damned Navy officer, secure in his power and his wealth and his breeding, no matter that it was the threat of the noose and the lash that kept him safe.

It must have been the drink, or the lack of it, but something just snapped in Jack's head. The next thing he knew, he had Norrington pinned by his throat against the bulkhead. Norrington's eyes were wide and his face grew red, then started to turn purple as he fought for breath. He scrabbled desperately at Jack's hand but was unable to loosen the fingers clamped around his throat. Jack slowly raised his hand, lifting the other man onto his tiptoes as he gasped frantically for air. It was quite interesting really - the edges of the world seemed to have taken on a red glow and in the centre of his vision was the Commodore's frantic face, eyes bulging, a vein in his forehead throbbing rapidly. Jack had never seen anyone strangle to death. He wondered idly how long would it take.

A torrent of lukewarm water hit Jack in the side of the face. He was so surprised that he let go of Norrington, who promptly collapsed against the wall in a wheezing heap. Jack turned round, furious, ready to tear the person who had interrupted him apart.

It was Elizabeth. She stood there still holding the now-empty jug, looking at him with a mixture of fury and fear.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" she shouted.

Author's Note: Well I didn't think that Jack and Norrington could travel around together indefinitely without things coming to a head at some point. The next chapter will reveal why Jack has such a hatred of Naval discipline