"She took about a dozen good hits, sir. Most of the breaches were on the lower gun deck," noted Lievtenant Jeffrey Pearce. Commodore Norrington leaned over the port bulkhead and gazed down the hull of the massive Dauntless and studied the bit of damage he could see. This was the first opportunity he had to see the progress on the damage inflicted from the last battle with Captain Hunter's two vessels.
"And how are the repairs coming, Lievtenant?" Norrington inquired with his usual steady tone.
Pearce looked back over to the Commodore. "We're quite finished with the hull and deck repairs, sir. Just scratches, in all honesty, considering the size of the enemy vessels. We did have to replace one of the 32 pounders, but then again you are already aware of that."
Norrington stood back up and nodded. "Indeed, a cracked barrel does us no good," he said casually as his gazed moved around the weather deck of the Dauntless. He folded his hands behind his back as he started toward the starboard bulkhead. Lievtenant Pearce dually followed and watched as Norrington absently ran his right hand over the wood where the paint had been chipped away, undoubtedly from stray bullets.
"You used up your luck that day, if you don't mind my saying, sir," stated Pearce from behind Norrington.
James scoffed under his breath and hinted at a smile. "I daresay I did," he said as he glanced out into the crystal blue water.
"Any word as to Gillette's return, Commodore?" inquired Pearce as he looked over Norrington's shoulder.
Norrington turned back to face the Lievtenant. "He should be on restricted duty within a fortnight. Or whenever Quinlan is kind enough to discharge him," he said with a bit of sarcasm.
Pearce chuckled softly. "I am not sure Gillette will agree with the 'restricted duty' part of it, sir, even if the good doctor did relinquish him from his grasp…"
"Than he shall have to learn to cope, Lievtenant. If not, than Gillette will be forced to deal with me, rather than Quinlan. However, I shall be angry, whereas Aiden is only annoying. I do not think Matthieu would wish that upon anyone," Norrington concluded with a satisfied nod. He glanced down once more at the scarred bulkhead railing. "Have that repainted immediately," he said. Norrington then dismissed himself, having found the Port Royale fleet completely seaworthy, save for a minor paint chip or two. He returned to his office in time to gather his things and depart for home.
James did not get that far, however. "Bloody hell," he muttered as he studied the loose shoe on Darby's left front foot. He glanced back up at the horse as he patted the big grey's shoulder. "You do enjoy making my life difficult, do you not?" Darby then reached around and grabbed the hilt of Norrington's fine saber and began to pull it from the scabbard. "No, no, no!" James insisted in alarm as he grabbed the horse's nose and gave it a squeeze. "That could be quite detrimental to the two of us." Norrington replaced the deadly weapon and quickly determined that the shoe was good enough to make it to the blacksmith's. The horse was in need of a shoeing anyhow. "It appears as if we are going to pay Mr. Turner a visit," James said unemotionally as he mounted up and patted Darby's neck.
Norrington was not thrilled at the prospect of going to see Will. Meetings between the two since the Black Pearl incident were awkward at best. James had always respected Will for his enthusiasm and dedication, though he certainly did not agree with Turner's decision to engage in piracy. Discretion was the element of which the two gentlemen did not see eye to eye. James could think of a dozen other ways to go about rescuing Elizabeth, but commandeering a ship of the Fleet and gallivanting around the Caribbean with a crew of drunken buccaneers was not one of them. Norrington rolled his eyes at the thought as he pulled Darby up in front of the forge. It's all in the past, he thought to himself as he dismounted. Rash or not, the boy did a noble thing, and most of all he did it for Elizabeth. James could not hold anything against Will or Elizabeth for being true to their hearts. They were thoroughly in love, no one could deny that now or even three months prior. Not even the outwardly cold, emotionless Commodore Norrington. He, too, loved Elizabeth, but he would never hold her to her oath and force her a man she did not truly love. As much as he suffered now, James knew Elizabeth would have suffered far greater if she had been forced to keep her promise to him. It would have been a lie, James thought as he moved toward the door and knocked. Moments later the old wooden door opened and Will Turner appeared.
"Commodore Norrington, what an unexpected surprise," started Will. He was caught completely off guard by the Commodore's presence, for he rarely saw him in this portion of Port Royale, let alone his forge. Will reached up and wiped the sweat away from his brow that accumulated from his feverish work at the anvil.
"Good day, Mr. Turner," greeted Norrington officially. He studied Will's disheveled appearance and figured he had caught the young blacksmith in the middle of a project. "I apologize for the intrusion, but I was hoping you would have the time to tack on some shoes to this fine animal behind me," James said as Darby nudged him from behind and practically sending him crashing into Will.
"Fine animal?" Will questioned as a smirk crossed his face.
"Brash and indignant," clarified Norrington as he recovered and took a step back toward Darby.
Will nodded and then turned to open the larger door to the forge. "Of course, Commodore. I was in the middle of crafting a sword, but not for a customer. That may wait. Bring him in and I'll do it right now," he said, turning back into the forge to gather the supplies. James sighed as he led the snorting Darby into the forge, trying to avoid being trampled as the horse spooked at the donkey in the corner. Will chuckled at the horse's spirit.
"One should think that he's never seen a donkey before," he said as he tied on his leather apron.
"He's quite convinced I am going to save him from this terrifying situation," James teased, his tone emotionless as ever.
"I reckon I have not seen this one before," noted Will as he studied the imposing grey animal. He was always surprised that the Commodore traveled so far out of his way to have his horses shod at Brown's forge. He had mentioned to Will along time ago that the farriers at the Fort had no talent for their craft, and the horses ended up the worse for it. Norrington never seemed like the type to take any great interest in horses, or so Will thought, but indeed the man was as careful with them as he was with his warships.
"No, this one is new. An Irish gelding my sister brought over weeks ago," James explained as Darby reached out and began chewing quite contently on the sleeve of his uniform.
"And how old?" asked Will as he tried to keep from smiling too much.
"The insufferable age of six," lamented Norrington as he pulled his sleeve from Darby's jaws. The young horse then began chewing on the reins, which James also pulled away. He then tried once more at Norrington's saber, which earned him a gentle slap on the muzzle. Darby finally gave up looking for entertainment on James's person and began lipping Will's hair. "Enough," demanded James as he pulled the horse's head back up. James smiled, and then gently played with the Darby's lips to keep the young animal occupied.
Will turned and glanced up at the Commodore and noticed that he genuinely appeared content. He could not remember the last time he had seen the Commodore actually smiling for the sake of smiling. Interesting, he thought. Will had always respected Norrington. He had spent eight years growing up in Port Royale and watched Norrington rise through the ranks with great success here in the Caribbean. James had even shown the young Will one or two techniques with the sword as well. Will acknowledged their differences in opinion and style, but had to respect the man for the honorable gentleman he was. The Commodore was far too meticulous and cautious for Will's taste – perhaps even dull, but at the very least honorable. Will took the Commodore's good mood into account and decided this was perhaps the opportune moment to as for a great favor. He moved to the furnace and stuck in a shoe before turning to Norrington.
"Commodore, if I may," Will began somewhat nervously. He had lost his awkward boyishness around the more important members of society after his adventure with the Black Pearl, but the impending conversation made him uneasy. "I should like to ask a favor of you."
Norrington glanced up at Will and continued to finger Darby's lips. "What may I do for you, Mr. Turner?" he inquired.
Will drew a breath before continuing. "I realize what I am about to ask of you is a great deal, and I may be overstepping my bounds, but it would mean the world to both myself and Elizabeth. I should like to ask your permission for Jack Sparrow to attend our wedding next month," he said rather hastily as he drew another breath and straightened back up.
Norrington instinctively paused. It was only when Darby tried to bite his hand off did he snap back to action. Allow Sparrow back in Port Royale? It was unheard of. Simply because James felt the desire to let the pirate escape that day at the gallows did not mean that he was about to welcome the rogue with open arms. Doing so would go against everything Norrington stood for and worked so hard at his entire career. If Sparrow came back, James would be bound by duty to hang the man, and that was not something he entirely wanted to see. As annoying as Jack Sparrow was, he was just that…annoying. He was not a rapist or a heartless murderer. He was a rash, annoying, odd man who had done an honorable deed. Norrington honestly felt it would be wrong to have the man hanged, but it would be far worse to simply allow him to jaunt about Port Royale with no repercussions. James straightened himself up as he once again put on his commanding air of the Commodore. "I am afraid that won't be possible, Mr. Turner. I cannot allow a declared pirate and enemy of the Crown in Port Royale, as much as I should like to be of assistance to both you and Miss Swann."
Will relaxed some. "I understand that this goes against your very presence here, Commodore, but I owe Jack this courtesy - my life, if need be. I can assure you he will not stir any trouble during his stay. I shall be completely responsible for his actions should you consider that fair."
"What I consider 'fair,' Mr. Turner, is Mr. Sparrow staying well away from my sights," stated Norrington. "I allowed him to escape once as a thank you for his assistance. He is not welcome here at any given time. Royal Navy policy."
Will could see Norrington's patience drawing thin. "What if I promise you he shall arrive the morning of, and be well on his way no more than an hour after the wedding? He could be disguised so as not to attract attention. He loves weddings - "
"Yes, I know…'Drinks all around' I believe was his eloquent saying," said Norrington as he refrained from rolling his eyes.
"Please Commodore. Consider it a wedding gift to both Miss Swann and myself. And try to understand that I am taking your reputation into account, sir. I know that Jack is quite capable of civilized behavior. He will not do anything to force you to make any decisions he may regret," stated Will confidently as he lifted his chin and gazed at the Commodore.
"I shall have to consider this, Mr. Turner," Norrington said coldly. Will nodded and returned to his work. He was pleased the Commodore did not outright deny it, but at the same time he had not openly agreed. Will would be patient and allow the man to think through the proposition. Meanwhile, he finished trimming Darby's feet and placed four new shoes on the horse. He rasped down parts of the hoof wall to make the foot blend smoothly into the shoe.
"Perfectly balanced," Will said as he stepped back to admire his work. "The angle from the fetlock joint matches the foot angle exactly. This animal has good hooves."
"Glad you think so," said James as he inspected the shoes. "The so-called farriers up at the Fort would not have a clue as to what you just said." James reached into his pocket and withdrew the appropriate amount of money. Will looked over to him and waved one of his hands.
"No need for that, Commodore. This job is on me."
James paused before taking another step toward Will. "My decision regarding Mr. Sparrow will derive strictly from my discretion, Mr. Turner, not from complimentary handy work," he declared as he placed the money in Will's hand. "Thank you for another fine job, Mr. Turner. I shall inform you of my decision as soon as I reach one." With that, James led Darby out of the forge and started back toward home, leaving Will alone once more to hover over the hot iron.
