Tally Ho

"One should think that the rogues would have enough sense to stay away from Kingston," sneered Gillette, as he stood off to Norrington's left. The two officers stood on the quarterdeck of the HMS Dauntless and gazed out onto the crystal blue ocean. They were in pursuit of a renegade sloop that had attacked a merchant brig just off the coast of the bustling Kingston harbor.

James nodded as he stood fast with his hands folded behind his back. "Of course. But then again, one should hope that they would have had the sense to obey the law as well. I daresay they have earned the punishment they are about to receive."

Gillette glanced over his shoulder and smirked. "Tally ho, sir?"

The Commodore looked to his Lievtenant and flashed a small smile. "Tally ho, Lievtenant," he said. Norrington then turned and started down the stairs to inspect the weather deck. "Trim the topsails, gentlemen, we're before the wind now." He eventually made his way up to the forecastle where Gillette joined him only moments later. The Lievtenant stood back a moment and studied his friend and commanding officer. James was so confident and sure while shipboard. His actions were purposeful and carefully planned, his intentions well defined. The Commodore made no secret of the fact that he had dedicated his life to ridding the waters of pirate activity, and while on ship his focus was unmistakable. It was for this reason why the man had garnered so much success and earned himself the reputation as the Pirate Hunter. Norrington was often considered the finest mariner His Majesty's Navy had to offer in the Caribbean, and he had never let a pirate out of his grasp. Save for once.

"If the Black Pearl was not the last real pirate threat in the Caribbean, than Hunter certainly seemed to be," Norrington said thoughtfully. His words snapped Gillette out of his musing. "It's been dreadfully quiet in these waters recently. No activity whatsoever."

Gillette nodded as he stepped up to Norrington's left. "That it has, sir. I daresay you gave them a right good scare after bringing in Hunter. The man was out for your head, you know. All that planning to flush Commodore Norrington out, and all it earned him was two crippled vessels and a stretched neck," he said as he glanced over to James, who simply continued to stare out to sea.

"Well he made a horrible mistake in underestimating the Port Royale fleet, Gillette," Norrington declared as he glanced to his second. His gaze returned to the open ocean ahead. "Hunter was a bumbling fool, much like the incompetent we are about to overtake. It will take more than a brig and a wreck of a frigate to take me."

Gillette chuckled under his breath. "Or one flight of stairs," he said, his stare resting solidly on the water. A small smirk pulled at the sides of his mouth as he thought about his jest.

Norrington turned quickly to face Gillette in his own defense. "You do realize I was shot in the head," he asserted with impatience. James waved his hand at Matthieu before turning to look back out to sea. "I don't go poking fun at your previous condition…"

The Lievtenant shook his head as his defiant smile grew. "It was most ungraceful of you sir."

"Enough with the stairs, Matthieu!" Norrington demanded as he stared squarely at Gillette, who only folded his hands behind his back and tried to contain his laughter. James sighed and shook his head. "Why did I ever promote you? All you do is give me grief."

Matthieu smiled and placed a reassuring hand on James's left shoulder. "Because you are wise beyond your years, my friend," he declared as the two officers turned and started aft, back toward Norrington's cabin. They had not gotten halfway across the weather deck when the attention of all the hands aboard the Dauntless turned to the larboard side of the ship.

"Commodore! Fire to the larboard side, sir!" yelled one of the sailors from aloft in the fighting top. Norrington turned and quickly made his way to the bulkhead, followed by all hands. They peered out on to the fiery scene perhaps a mile away.

"Quartermaster! Come round to port!" commanded Norrington as he headed toward the quarterdeck for a better view. "Ready the boats for launch and prepare to take on survivors. Alert the surgeon." The Commodore ascended the stairs and spread his arms along the rail as he looked down on the scene unfolding before him. All hands were busy about their duties as they swung out the boats and assembled on deck. The scene was desperate – the wooden hull of a former merchant schooner lay in scattered, flaming ruins. Debris was strewn about the water and bobbed slowly in the calm waves. Norrington clenched his jaw before making his way back down the stairs and across the deck. "Take in sail! Launch the boats…"

Several boats were launched to search the waters, but no survivors were found. The schooner was apparently carrying a load of sugar cane, by the looks of the surviving crates. The Commodore shook his head as he surveyed the scene. No clues were recovered, but Norrington had a reasonable explanation for the unfortunate occurrence. Once all hands were back aboard he gave his orders. "Set top sails and secure the boats. Jackets off the guns and prepare for a hunt, gentleman," he commanded with his usual, emotionless tone. He immediately signaled for Lievtenant Gillette to join him at the helm. "How big did the vessel appear to be?" Norrington inquired of his trusted second.

Gillette paused in consideration as he glanced out to the remaining flaming wreckage. "She appeared to be a small schooner, Commodore. Very little wreckage and debris. I should say that she was set afire."

The Commodore nodded as he leaned forward and grasped the railing. "The aggressors cannot be far. If the rogue sloop was responsible, I should be surprised if they got away with little damage. I suspect they would be sailing east toward that vile pit of Tortuga, so let us give chase. Prepare the men for a gun fight." With that, Norrington descended the stairs and retreated to his cabin for a moment or two of quiet. He always found it reassuring to take a moment for himself and clear his head. Meanwhile, the crew of the HMS Dauntless hoisted the main and topsails on the foremast, mainmast, and mizzenmast of the enormous vessel. She glided forward easily, her bowsprit pointing proudly toward her destination.

James was standing at the very aft of his cabin, staring out the expansive windows lining the stern of the Dauntless, when he heard a knock on his door. He paused thoughtfully before glancing over his shoulder. "Enter," he said as he turned his attention back out the window. Gillette approached took off his cap, placing it neatly under his arm.

"Whatever is out there must be utterly fascinating," Gillette declared after a moment of shared silence between the two. When Norrington did not answer, he continued. "What has gotten into you? You've been moping about the Fort recently and it appears that your attitude has not much improved when in private."

James turned and folded his hands behind his back as he looked at Matthieu. "What is the situation with the sloop, Lievtenant? Any signs of her yet?" he asked with no hint of emotion in his tone.

Gillette sighed as he watched his commander move and sit behind his desk. "None as of yet, sir," he said, matching Norrington's tone. "We're making excellent time, so I shouldn't believe they would be far off if we're following the appropriate course. So…" Gillette paused as he slowly made his way out in front of the Commodore's desk. "Returning to our previous topic, James."

Norrington broke his concentrated stare and glanced over to Gillette, who was smirking to himself. "I appreciate your concern, but this is not the time, nor the place, Lievtenant," he declared. Though the Commodore's words were stern, Gillette did not pay them much mind. He studied his commander from across the desk and shook his head.

"I understand completely. But if I may speak freely for one moment, sir," Gillette insisted. "She's gone, James. Let her go."

James furrowed his brow in confusion, though he had a reasonable idea of where Matthieu was taking the discussion. "Who's gone?"

Gillette shifted in his seat. "Elizabeth. Lord knows since the wedding you've been sullen and out of sorts. Even shipboard I've noticed a slight change in you. Best to just let her go, James. She was not right for you, but that is no fault of yours. She was simply too blind to see. And too stupid to be grateful."

James leaned slightly forward and placed his hands on the desk. "That is quite enough, Matthieu."

"I'm not finished. Damn it, James, you risked your life and the lives of all your men looking out for that girl's safety, not to mention that damned Turner, and I have yet to hear any appreciation or gratitude from her. Granted, her father has been more than thankful, but Mrs. Turner has not yet sought you out to thank you for your involvement. You could have been slain just as easily as I or the 70 or so that we lost that night. I would have expected her to personally sign each of those letters that you wrote to the families of those marines and sailors, but you did not force the issue. So if she cannot see past the title enough to even come and thank you for your sacrifice, than I cannot possibly fathom how she would be worthy of your dedication." Gillette sat back in his seat drew a calming breath.

James also leaned back in his chair and stared at Matthieu as he absently ran his fingers over the top of the desk. He went to say something, but merely nodded in recognition of Matthieu's words. "I assure you this has nothing to do with Mrs. Turner's marriage, Matthieu. I am simply missing the sea, that is all. With Martin finally cooperating and the recent inactivity, I have not had the need to sail, and so I drown in paperwork instead. Hardly the sort of lifestyle I am used to," he said as his words trailed off. Indeed, Norrington was a sailor in every respect, and his direct involvement with patrols had diminished with his duties as Commodore. The change in focus from ship captain to Fort commander was drastic to say the least.

Moments later one of the midshipmen entered and declared that sails had been spotted just to the northeast.

Gillette studied Norrington before feeling satisfied with the response. "Well then, you shan't feel melancholy much longer," he said as a smirk slowly invaded his expression. "Though I must say, I do have a good solution to any remaining despondent thoughts you may still have about losing Elizabeth."

James turned after gathering his hat and looked at Gillette curiously. The Lievtenant cleared his throat and smiled. "Miss Reynolds fancies you, she's made no secret of it to Katherine and myself. I think you should pursue her," Gillette declared.

"Good God, not you too!" James huffed as he walked toward the door.

The two officers made their way out of the cabin and up to the Dauntless's helm. Of to the port quarter were small, white sails. Norrington deftly withdrew his spyglass and studied the vessel. "She appears to be a small sloop or schooner, but she's most certainly limping along. Twenty degrees to larboard, Quartermaster," ordered the Commodore. He pocketed the looking glass and looked out on deck to the Sailing Master. "Trim the canvas, Mr. Epson, I want to carry every sail until we're on top of this rogue. Beat to quarters!" The crew of the Dauntless scrambled and manned their posts with strict efficiency. Norrington turned to Gillette. "Hoist the battle colors, Mr. Gillette. We'll make damned sure these idiots know who we are. Fire a warning shot across their bow once we get within range for the long nines." The Lievtenant smiled and carried out his orders.

It was not long until the powerful ship overtook the diminished threat. Grossly out manned and out gunned by nearly 90, the pronounced pirates ran up their white flag and surrendered without so much as a pistol shot. The crew of the sunken merchant vessel was accounted for and the criminals dually thrown in the brig to enjoy their short trip back to Port Royale to meet their fate.

"Well that was a waste of a first rate," commented Gillette once the Dauntless was under sail once more.  "Those were, without doubt, the worst pirates I have ever seen."

Norrington smirked some as he looked out from the quarterdeck.  "I daresay Martin would have been able to take care of it."  James's expression straightened as he thought about what he had said, and suddenly all was quiet.  He and Gillette looked at each other and said in unison, "Navigator..."

"Knowing Martin, he probably would have dropped anchor in Kingston and gone whoring or whatever it is he does to satisify his overgrown self," Gillette remarked with a biting tone.

Norrington folded his hands once more behind his back and nodded.  "Yes, I suspect sending you or Pearce out with the Navigator would have been a far more efficient use of resources."

"And then you could have stayed buried under a hoard of paperwork and attended the Anderton's tea this afternoon."  James rolled his eyes at Matthieu's comment.  "Charming young lady, Sophie is.  Has the personality of a melon.  You know, you may still be able to make it.  At the very least you should send them a note apologizing for your absense and offer to take tea with them tomorrow," Gillette teased as he subtly nudged the Commodore with his elbow.

"Oh, get a hobby Gillette!" demanded Norrington as he headed down toward his cabin, leaving Gillette smiling broadly on the quarterdeck of the HMS Dauntless.