Chapter 11 - Really, Really Big Lies

Gillette shot out of his seat as though someone had set his coat tails on fire, a pistol appearing in his hand as if by magic. He might be surprisingly guileless still, but he had learned a great deal in the last few years. His instincts were certainly impeccable - as soon as he had identified Elizabeth and assessed the threat she represented, he swung around to face the door. When Norrington entered the room, he found himself looking at his astonished subordinate's face, and down the barrel of a pistol pointed precisely at his heart.

"Sir!" gasped Gillette, round-eyed with astonishment at his Commodore's sudden entrance. "We feared that is, when Dauntless"

"Later," said Norrington wearily. "I need to speak to the officers - all of them. Assemble in the Mess in ten minutes."

Gillette, his face fully of suppressed curiosity, disappeared. As soon as the sound of his footsteps had faded in the corridor Norrington turned to Elizabeth, who was standing in the corner. She was a picture of total dejection, shoulders slumped, head bowed in a way that would have horrified her father, a stickler for correct deportment in young ladies. He moved towards her, ready to apologise for his rough treatment. She shook her head a little and then looked pointedly at the pistol, currently held negligently at his side. He wondered if she always been this focused, or if it was the effect of her new life in Tortuga.

They stood there in uncomfortable silence for a while, surely more like a quarter hour than his specified ten minutes, before Gillette returned to fetch them.

Norrington ran an experienced eye over the assembled officers. They seemed quite passable, considering his extended absence, but nonetheless he detected a lack of attention to small details - dull buttons here, a frayed and dirty cuff there, that would doubtless be corrected before he had the leisure to comment on them. He saw no strangers and began to relax - no performance would be required tonight then, and Sparrow, for once at least, was proved wrong.

The crowd shuffled impatiently under his silent gaze and through a momentary gap he caught sight of a new face. The man stood at the back of the group and towards the side of the room - when the Commodore faced forward the stranger would be out of his field of view. It was his home ground. His own fort. Why did Sparrow have to be right again?

He swallowed. Twice before in his career he had had to deliver a speech like this - he suspected it would never get any easier. This time, with so many lies to tell, it would be especially hard.

"Dauntless is lost," he said softly - no need to raise his voice to such an attentive audience. "So far as I know, I am the only survivor."

Even in the golden glow of the lamps the sea of faces before him seemed to grow a little paler. They stood absolutely still. He knew what they were doing - making a silent list of their lost comrades, men who had shared wine and played cards with them in this very room. Team mates in the cricket matches they liked to play in the field to while away the long summer evenings. Rivals for the attention of the pretty girls at the Governor's parties. Above all, comrades-in-arms in the ceaseless battles against rum-runners, pirates and foreign privateers. All gone now, lost in the azure waters of the Caribbean, as though they had never been.

He gave them a few moments to absorb the information before he continued.

The first part was easy enough - a truthful account of their fruitless pursuit of the buccaneer and the days they had spent riding out the storm. He tried to keep his voice calm, just as he'd practised, knowing that it would make the lies easier to hide when he reached them.

"I was asleep in my cabin when we were attacked. I still don't know why, or by whom. I managed to get onto the deck and found that she was already listing heavily to starboard, taking on water fast. We launched the boats, but they fired musket volleys at us. I have no idea what happened to the other boats, but I was the only survivor in mine."

"What ship was it?" someone called from the back of the crowd. They had been shifting restlessly, but now stood still again - this was a piece of information that every man wanted to hear.

"I didn't see the name," he lied. "Too much smoke and I was knocked out soon after we launched the boats. But I'd know her again if I saw her - and her crew wore Navy uniforms."

Now their blood was up. He hoped the spy was feeling threatened. If he pointed the man out now, they would probably hang him, if they didn't simply tear him apart. He stood and waited for the first wave of rage to subside - it took several minutes before they turned back to him ready for the rest of his tale.

"I was washed up on an island, quite off the normal shipping routes. I stayed there alone for six weeks. At first I was weak from my wounds, but there was fresh water and fish in the lagoon once I recovered my strength." That was another lie - by the time he had come out of the fever enough to take care of himself, he had been too weak from hunger to fish or climb trees in search of coconuts. He would have struggled on for a few more days, maybe a week, then probably starved to death surrounded by food he was too enfeebled to gather.

"Morris had a pistol on him, with spare shot and powder. I saved them carefully, in case I had a chance to use them." He raised the pistol a little so they could see it. It was an ordinary English pistol, quite a good one, but nothing special or unusual. He hadn't asked where Jack had got it, but it was just the sort of thing a young officer might have owned.

Now for the hard part. Surely they would never believe this ridiculous idea Sparrow had concocted?

"When I had been on the island for six weeks, The Black Pearl made anchor there to take on water. I hid in the bushes and watched for my chance," he paused and swallowed, nervously. He would never make him believe this. "They they thought they were alone, that it was safe. When Eliz Mrs Turner," he stopped again. He should never have agreed to this - he'd always been a terrible liar. The eyes of the assembled officers seemed to bore into him. He was convinced that they hadn't credited a word of the whole story.

"You can't say it, can you, you brute!" he swung round in surprise. Elizabeth had roused herself from the corner and now moved into the light. She leaned forward a little, pointing at him with an accusing finger. "He held me hostage at gun point to force my husband and Jack Sparrow to co-operate." He started to hope that she wouldn't overdo things. Elizabeth had lost none of her charm since she married and his men might not take too kindly to this unchivalrous deed against a lady that many of them had admired from a distance. "For two weeks he hasn't let me leave his side."

"When my father finds out what you've done"

Author's Notes: I couldn't resist the idea of poor old Norrington standing up in front of an audience and trying to spin them a yarn, Jack Sparrow-style. I didn't think he'd manage it though, which is why Elizabeth has to step in and rescue him at the end.

Huge thanks for your reviews - they have been very encouraging. This is the first time I've tried writing something long in sections like this and I'm determined to finish it! I want to know exactly what happens for a start... I've learned a lot doing it too.

There's going to be a bit of a pause in the updating, because I'm going on holiday for a week. No computers! I will try to get some writing done though, on old-fashioned paper, so hopefully there will be some quick updates when I get back.

P.S. In honour of International Talk Like a Pirate Day... Arr, me hearties - take care o' ye selves till next I see ye! Sorry, couldn't resist :-)