Pirates Ye Be Warned

Norrington quickly made his way back to his office once he had seen Katherine to a carriage. It pained him to think about how he had left her with the argument and such, but there was nothing he nor Gillette could do. Personal matters were quickly disregarded with the threat of pirates about. Even so, James could not help but examine the awkward situation over and over in his head as he gathered his maps and pistol. He still could not believe that he had found Gillette – Lievtenant Matthieu Gillette, his trusted first officer – with Katherine. It was entirely forward of the younger officer to even allow such a thought to pass through his head. Norrington shook it off and reminded himself to focus on the important task at hand. Something about the circumstances did not sit well with him, but it would take a quick study of the coordinates to find out what.

Captain Thomas Martin and various other officers were gathered around the planning table as Norrington rounded the corner and made his way up the stairs. "Commodore," said Martin as he saluted. The other officers followed. "I really must protest this haste," continued Martin with an air of impatience. "I do not feel it is necessary to rush out for what seems to be two isolated incidents of petty theft…"

"Isolated incidents or not, Captain Martin, they are not petty theft," established Norrington with his usual confidence as he placed the maps on the table and turned toward Martin, the annoyance growing more apparent in his voice. "And I must admit I am quite disappointed at your tone. Our purpose here in Port Royale is to protect innocent communities and ships within our territory. This season in particular is especially busy for the merchant trade. I'm sure many innocent people died in these two 'isolated incidents,' as you so casually refer to them. If you do not feel it necessary to perform your duties simply because your annual leave begins tomorrow, perhaps it would be best if you stayed behind and had Lievtenant Pearce take the Hambleton out for you." With that, Norrington turned back toward the maps to analyze the situation with his officers.

Martin stared after the Commodore. Do not even think of taking my command from me you damned twit, he thought. Martin was 10 years older than Norrington, and was frustrated to say the least when he arrived in Port Royale and learned that he would be serving under a younger officer. At his age and lenth of the experience in His Majesty's Navy, Martin expected to be in command of a third or perhaps even a first rate vessel.  Instead, his attitude earned him several reprimands from the Admiralty and the command of a mere frigate.  To Martin, his transfer to the Caribbean and to Port Royale was seen as another slap in the face.  The Captain stood back in the corner and narrowed his eyes in displeasure as he watched Norrington hover over the table as he studied the coordinates. Yes, his leave did start the next day. Martin had sailed from England with the frigate, HMS Hambleton, and had spent a week settling into his new post at Port Royale. It seemed to be a never-ending line of troop reassignments and constant re-fittings on the ship herself, so a vacation was greatly anticipated. Martin had spent much of his career in the North Atlantic, and had made his share of crossings to the American colonies. But he had never before been to the Caribbean, and so he did not quite appreciate Norrington's fervor for pirate hunting. Come to think of it, he did not appreciate Norrington's opinion in anything. Martin resented falling under the command of a much younger man, especially this late in his career. In Martin's opinion, the sea could never be tamed, nor could the rogues that sailed upon her. It was a bloody waste of energy to be gallivanting about trying to save every ship and every piece of cargo.

"Judging from the approximate positions of the two hits and the estimated time in which they took place, we've calculated that the rogue vessel should be a half day's sail to the southeast, sir," started Lievtenant Pearce. "Witnesses described the vessel as having only two masts.  A brig, sir. No unusual markings or colors."

"Do you know how many 'normal' looking brigs are out in these waters?" inquired Norrington as he spread his arms out and leaned on the table.

Pearce and the other officers looked to the Commodore. "Sir?"

Norrington shook his head as he studied the coordinates intently. "This does not sit right. Unless our witnesses are sadly mistaken and our estimations are incredibly off, there is little chance the same vessel could attack two ships so far away, so quickly. And a mere brig taking two larger merchant vessels?  No," he paused as he stood back up and tossed his pen onto the table. "This is the work of two ships, gentlemen. It is my belief that someone is collaborating to draw us out for an ambush." Gillette, Pearce, and the other officers all looked up from the map to Norrington. The situation made perfect sense.

Gillette was the first to take action, as usual, as he stepped out from behind the table and toward Norrington. He put the day's emotions behind him as he looked to his duty. "What are your orders, sir?"

Norrington paused before turning to Gillette. He, too, was putting the events from earlier behind him for the time being. The Commodore needed his trusty Lievtenant to be on his side for this upcoming conflict. "I want the Dauntless to go out on this one. Whoever this is out there, I suspect they are planning for us to sail a frigate and not a first rate. Although," he paused as he turned back toward the brooding Martin. "I see enough cause for the Hambleton to go as well. They've already preyed upon two ships; let's not make either of ours the third." Norrington nodded and gathered his hat from the table. "Ample troops on both vessels, step up the watches and guns at the fort. Ready the Navigator to act as guardship for harbor patrol in case these bastards come back us," Norrington looked up at his officers. "Understood?"

Gillette and the others quickly agreed. "Aye, sir!"

The Commodore glanced down once more at the map. "Very well then. Lievtenant Pearce, I want you on the Hambleton with Captain Martin. Lievtenant Gillette, you're with me on the Dauntless. Dismissed, gentlemen." With that, the officers dispersed to quickly prepare the men and vessels. Gillette hesitated for a moment by Norrington's side as he gripped the hilt of his saber. "I shall need a moment with you once we are underway, Lievtenant," said Norrington quietly. Gillette looked up and nodded before saluting and heading off to see to his duties. Norrington, however, lingered a few moments. Captain Martin had not yet moved from the corner he had planted himself in, making it quite obvious he had no intention of cooperating to any useful degree. The Commodore quickly rolled up the maps and placed them neatly on the table before approaching Martin with great authority. "You have your orders, Captain. See them through," ordered Norrington as he looked down at the older officer.

Martin scoffed as he stared up at the Commodore. He slowly raised his hand for a salute and quickly dismissed it as he brushed by Norrington and made way toward the Hambleton. James slowly shook his head. He did not want to bring Martin along with such an attitude, but he did not feel comfortable sailing out to meet two possible ships of unknown size and strength. He wanted all the firepower available, and the mid-sized Hambleton was the best choice to accompany the Dauntless.

Norrington quickly gathered the maps and made for the waiting rowboat to take him to his flagship. The day was excellent for sailing and he judged the ships would make good time. He surveyed the HMS Dauntless as the small boat approached. She was a massive and commanding presence from sea level. Often referred to as a first rate ship-of-the-line or man-o-war, she measured 227 feet from prow to aft rail, and her masts stood a dizzying 220 feet about the waterline. Her three gun decks housed 100 guns, their sizes depending on the size of ball they fired, ranging from 12-pound, 24-pound, and 32-pounds.  Her lower gun deck housed the 32-pound guns for reasons of stability, the main gun deck contained the 24-pound guns, and the 12-pounders were located on the upper gun deck.  The 9-pound guns, known as the "long nines" for their extended range of fire, were mounted on her forecastle and quarterdecks.  The Dauntless boasted a broadside weight of 1,104 pounds - meaning that amount of ordinance could be fired from either side of the ship during battle.  Despite her size, which sometimes made her difficult to handle, the Dauntless remained a superior sailing vessel, though certainly not as fast as smaller, sleeker ones.  She was the power in the Caribbean waters – the deadly shark that all enemies of the Crown feared most. Her elegant carvings and aft woodwork made her as beautiful as she was dangerous. Her crew affectionately called her "The Big D." Norrington smirked slightly at the thought as he boarded the Dauntless and made way toward his cabin. He was certainly happiest and most at home while on board this ship.

Within the next half hour, the topsails were hoisted and the anchor weighed. Dauntless and Hambleton made their way gracefully out of the harbor and began their southeast course toward their anticipated conflict. Hours later, Norrington stood on the quarterdeck and looked off to the starboard as he studied the Hambleton from a distance. She was a newer frigate, known for her successful compromise of speed and strength. She carried 32 guns total; 26 12-pounders housed on her main gun deck, four 6-pounders mounted on her quarterdeck, and two more 6-pounders mounted on the forecastle. She was much faster than the Dauntless, and because of that Martin was forced to hoist only a main portion of the sails in order for the larger gun ship to keep up. As he looked out onto the frigate, Norrington quietly hoped that Martin had dropped the poor attitude and decided to throw in his best. If he so much as hesitates this time out, I won't think twice about turning my guns and blowing his miserable self out of the water, James thought. He had dealt with Martin's glares and snide comments for a week now, ever since his arrival in Port Royale.

Gillette had been examining the compasses and surveying the maps on the weather deck when he noticed the Commodore up on the quarterdeck. He rolled up the maps and placed them back in the cabinet in front of the helm as he turned and ascended the stairs toward Norrington. Gillette, too, felt much more at ease shipboard. He approached Norrington casually as he always did, hoping to not give away the growing knot in his stomach. "You wished to have a word with me, Sir?" inquired Gillette as he looked over the Commodore's shoulder.

Norrington stood with his hands behind his back, as usual, as he turned back to Gillette. "Yes Gillette…I would like a moment with you in private." Gillette nodded and started back down the stairs toward the Commodore's cabin. Norrington followed and closed the door behind them as they entered the quiet and elegant space. Gillette made himself comfortable in one of the chairs facing the Commodore's fine desk. Norrington made his way to the desk as took off his hat and placed it on the carved wood. James sat down and leaned back into his chair. Obviously the atmosphere for this discussion was not about to include a great deal of military civility. Gillette prepared himself for a man-to-man discussion.

"This is probably not the best time to discuss this, Matthieu, but I feel there is no other choice," said James quietly has he absently brushed his fingers along the top of the desk.

Matthieu glanced down and drew a breath. "I understand completely…James," he said as he looked up at Norrington and found him staring at his desk.

"We have served together for eight years, as you were kind enough to point out," James started. "And never once have I felt you would disappoint me, Matthieu. So it is with perfect truth I say that I was terribly disheartened when I saw that you went against your word."

Matthieu removed his hat and fingered it as he leaned forward in his chair. "We both know what you saw, so there is no point in me trying to deny it. It was a stupid and reckless slip on my part James; I regret what I have done." He paused to look over at James, who was now sitting back and looking squarely at him. Matthieu spread his hands in an attempt to express his loss for words. "I'll accept whatever punishment you decide, but be fair to Katherine. It was not her fault."

James sighed and looked away for a moment. "You know, she said the same thing, only for you. I'm beginning to wonder if it isn't my fault. Perhaps it was Sergeant Wilkins' fault. Or everyone's fault. I'm simply not sure anymore, and quite honestly I no longer care," stated James matter of factly as he glanced back to Gillette. "The point of the discussion is not what you were doing or whose fault it was, Matthieu. We are about to do battle and I need to know if I can trust you to be on my side today."

Gillette nodded, as he looked James straight in the eye. "I have never given anything but my best in battle, James, and do not intend to do any less today. On my life, I stand beside you."

James nodded slowly. "I wish to discuss this further with both you and Katherine," he said with an emotionless tone.

"Of course," said Gillette quietly as he glanced back down to the floor.

At that moment one of the midshipmen knocked on the cabin door. "Commodore, sir! Whites sails on the horizon, sir. Larboard quarter. Martin's off to the starboard fourth, sir."

Norrington looked from the door back to Gillette and gathered his hat as he stood up. "Very well then, Mr. Emerson!" James walked past Gillette, paused, and turned back to him. A content little smile crossed his face. "We're going hunting, Gillette." With that, Norrington lifted his eyebrows in his quirky style and quickly walked out of the cabin. Gillette smiled to himself as he replaced his hat and followed his commander out on deck.