Shadow of Death

Months had passed since the incident with the Black Pearl and the Isla de Muerta, and yet Elizabeth found it as fresh as the sea breeze in her mind as she strolled solemnly through the cemetery.  There, on the western edge of the hallowed ground, stood a simple stone monument bearing the insignia of His Majesty's Royal Navy.  The stone stood facing the trade winds coming off the Caribbean Sea, and overlooked the water that its sailors held so dear.  She approached it cautiously as if not to disturb the ground around her.  Elizabeth paused merely a foot away from the structure and softly reached out to touch it.    A great sinking feeling overcame her as she began to read the list of names lost that night aboard the HMS Dauntless at the island that no one could find.

Mr. Benjamin Pullings, Sailing Master

Mr. Theodore Groves, Second Lieutenant

Mr. Robert Redding, Midshipman

Mr. Frederick Blakely, Midshipman

Mr. Stephen Wilksby, Able Seaman

Mr. Matthew Giles, Able Seaman

Mr. Jacoby Smith, Ordinary Seaman

Sgt. Edward Frank, Royal Marines

Sgt. Jonathan Mark, Royal Marines

Pvt. Marcus Lane, Royal Marines

Pvt. Thomas Fish, Royal Marines

Dozens more names followed, and Elizabeth's throat tightened with each additional identity.  Her spirit fell some as she ran her fingers down the 76 lines of etching in the stone.  Officers, sailors, Royal Marines; suddenly, it had become clear.  Clear, if not painfully obvious.  Each name represented a son, a brother, a father, a lover, and a companion.  She had thought little of the implications of her actions on the members of the Port Royale fleet until this day.  Why exactly she had waited until this day to remember their sacrifice, she could not say.  Perhaps it was Katherine's funeral.  Perhaps because she had never had a need to visit the cemetery, seeing that her mother was buried thousands of miles away in England.  Perhaps she was simply too young at the time to truly understand what it was to lose someone.  And perhaps it was because Elizabeth had always taken the Navy's presence for granted, as many society members managed to do.  To a young girl and naïve woman, they were merely red and blue coats topped by masks.

However, Elizabeth now felt complete and utter sympathy for each of the names on that solemn stone.  She was only eight years old when her mother passed away due to fever.  Repeatedly Elizabeth had been told that her mother was now with God and his angels.  She imagined her mother in Heaven, smiling down at her.  Even though it was someone so close as her mother, Elizabeth was still quite removed from the situation at her father's request.  For so long, death had been a peaceful event to Elizabeth, merely a new beginning that allowed loved ones to one day be reunited under God's watchful eye.  But, as Elizabeth ran her fingers over the names on the monument she felt a commanding sense of finality.  These fine men were gone and were not coming back.  What had changed her outlook?

The Commodore.  Watching Norrington struggle with the tragedy that had struck affected Elizabeth in more ways than she could possibly admit.  To see someone so outwardly composed through stress and battle - even rejection – crumble like soft clay shook Elizabeth to her core.  In nine years of guarded relations she had never seen so much as a quiver in his resolve or outward composure.  Watching the walls collapse around him only days before and feeling his hot tears on her fingers threatened to destroy her own false sense of security.  This whole disaster had brought to light that perhaps death was final.

And as Elizabeth made her way to the procession and came to stand directly across the freshly dug grave from the Commodore, thoughts began to flood her.  Thoughts of the last conversation she had with her mother, memories of the day she was laid to rest, and seeing her father weep afterwards.  She could suddenly empathize with James so well.

She watched him now, standing rigidly across from her, eyes drawn to the ground.  Elizabeth could not remember the last time she had seen him look so utterly defeated.  Melissa Reynolds stood just off to his left on the arm of her uncle, Joshua Meyerson.  Lievtenant Gillette, Norrington's trusted second and Katherine's beloved acquaintance, stood off to the Commodore's right.  All three seemed completely devoid of color.  Their expressions were worn and blank as they stared at the casket being lowered into the ground.  Elizabeth watched as well before moving her eyes up to James.  He seemed quite distant, and though his eyes were on the grave, it was as if he was staring through to something other entirely.  Through his blank and granite expression she thought she saw a tear running down his cheek.  Elizabeth drew a breath and thought back to the names on the stone overlooking the sea.  If that stone monument could cry, Elizabeth had no doubt that at this very moment tears would flow from every etch.

            ***

There was no sun on the day Katherine was laid to rest.  James found the Caribbean weather to be bewildering and spontaneous regarding its changes, but never before had he seen it to match the mood quite so well.  The clouds hung in the sky like a thick blanket.  Their dark appearance threatened rain, but yet nothing fell.  It was as if the clouds themselves were refraining from weeping.  The grey overcast seemed to cast a shadow on everything the light would have touched.  The brilliant greens of the Caribbean vegetation were dull and seemingly lifeless; even the ocean herself was an ominous grey. 

What Norrington would have given to escape to sea!  To harness the wind and sail upon the waves, enjoying nature's powerful majesty and breathing the sweet ocean air, and return to Port Royale to find everything as it should be.  James longed for the sea at this very moment as Katherine's grave was slowly filled in.  He wanted desperately to embrace his younger sister, to apologize for all the wrong he had done her, to confide in her and enjoy her company.  But with each additional pound of earth thrown upon the coffin his hopes diminished and cold reality became more apparent.  James gripped the hilt of his dress sword uneasily and drew several slow breaths to calm himself.  As he watched the grave filling in, his thoughts strangely moved thousands of miles away to England.  How in the world do I inform everyone?  What will mother think…James thought as he stood there numbly.  He could already imagine his mother sinking to the floor and weeping desperately.  He considered writing a letter home the previous day, but could not bring himself to do it.  It felt too impersonal, much like the letters he would write to the families of soldiers and sailors who had died in the line of duty.  He thought about sailing for England and deliver the news personally, but could not fathom leaving everything so hastily.  Perhaps he would make for England the next month or so when the Dauntless was due to sail to Portsmouth for refitting.  Thoughts and possibilities circled endlessly in James's head.  Finally, the grave was covered and the funeral attendees began to disperse.  Commodore Norrington remained there, staring endlessly at the subtle mound of earth just before him.  It was so irrevocable, so cold.  Katherine Norrington, the younger sister he had helped raised and worked so hard to protect, his one true confidant, was lost to him forever.

James remained there for several minutes, still and silent as a stone.  Melissa turned to him and gently placed a hand over his left arm.  She knew not what to say to him at this moment, for she too was torn inside over the loss of her dear friend.  She stepped closer to him and opened her mouth to speak, but could not quite find the words.  Her eyes fell to the ground as she remained there, silent.  James tilted his head toward her, so they were undoubtedly staring at the same spot on the tired grass.  Neither said a word, and moments later Melissa drew away on the arm of her uncle.

After politely and half-heartedly accepting condolences from the Governor and other members of Port Royale society, James paused and waited until he was alone before removing a neat piece of paper from the pocket of his uniform coat, kneeling beside the grave, and reading it at a nearly inaudible volume.

"Farewell thou art too dear for my possessing,

And like enough though know'st thy estimate.

The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;

My bonds in thee are all determinate.

For how do I hold thee but by thy granting,

And for that riches where is my deserving?

And so my patent back again is swerving.

Thyself though gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing,

Or me to whom thou gav'st it else mistaking;

So thy great gift, upon misprison growing,

Comes home again, on better judgment making.

Thus have I had thee as a dream doth flatter;

In sleep a king, but waking no such matter."

He fingered the paper for a moment before leaning forward and placing it at the base of the headstone.  Finally, he drew himself back to his feet and walked over to where his horse was waiting for him.  He took Darby's reins and stroked the fine grey neck.  James then took a moment to look into Darby's eyes.  Those large, brown eyes bore a softness that he had always seen in Katherine.  They represented a kindness and willingness that both had shared.  James always considered it a humorous coincidence that Katherine and Darby held so much in common.  Two stunning beings in his life, both full of energy and too bold for their own good.  But James could no longer fault either of them for that.  Whenever Darby shied or playfully bucked, it would have new meaning.  James smiled and scoffed as he brought the horse's head to his chest.  "Not that it gives you any excuse, of course," he whispered into the big grey's ear.  Darby lipped the Commodore's uniform sleeve before searching pockets for food.  James merely patted the horse's neck before mounting up and heading once more toward the Fort.

            ***

Fort Charles went about its dutiful ways since the tragedy, though Commodore Norrington's presence had been sporadic at best.  He was good enough to see that the proper officers were put in charge of the Fort's daily activities as well as those of the fleet.  Lievtenant Gillette's presence had been more abundant, but not nearly as productive.  He spent a great deal of his time alone in his office.  He confided in no one and it seemed his air was that of despair and anger.  James had recognized this and could not let it go on for fear of destroying the young officer.

The funeral had not been over for more than a half hour before Norrington reached his office.  He absently hung his uniform hat and periwig and walked to his desk with an exhausted step.  His book of Shakespeare's sonnets was lying abandoned on the fine wood top.  He had seen it the day before out of place – undoubtedly due to Katherine's curiosity the day of the accident.  It was from this book that he withdrew Sonnet 87 and placed it at Katherine's grave for her to have.  She was better than he, better than the entire family, possibly better than the whole of society.  She always had been, and always would be.  James felt she needed to know in death what was never expressed to her in life.

A soft knock upon the door interrupted the reverie.  James looked up before delicately placing the book back on the desk and rising slowly from his chair.  He had dreaded this moment since he had learned of Katherine's death.  He drew a breath and straightened some before bidding the person to enter.

Lievtenant Gillette opened the door and entered with a slightly dragging step.  James watched as Gillette closed the door and came to stand at attention directly in front of him, staring past the Commodore as if eye contact would earn him 15 lashes.  James exhaled and shifted his stance as he studied his longtime comrade.  The knot in his stomach doubled in size as he thought about the circumstances.

"I think you know why I asked you here," James started somewhat uneasily.

Gillette's eyes shifted toward his commander for a fleeting moment before resting on the same spot on the wall in front of him.  "The manifests are all in order, sir, I'm sure you shall find everything prepared for the Gallant's arrival two weeks hence," he declared with an official tone tinged with exhaustion.

Norrington instinctively waved his hand at his subordinate.  He then paused and drew a calming breath.  "It's not about that, Matthieu," he started quietly.  "I wanted to ask you how you are faring."

A flicker of pain shot through Gillette's expression as his gaze dropped to the floor.  He removed his uniform hat and began to examine some of its gold brocade.  "I should ask you the same thing."

James nodded and folded his hands behind his back.  His gaze, too, fell to the floor as he searched for the words.  "I apologize for waiting so long to seek you out, Matthieu."

Now it was Gillette's turn to wave his hand at James.  "I understand, James.  Really…do not concern yourself over it."

"I shall concern myself over it, Matthieu," said James as he took a step toward Gillette.  "I…was…so lost, I suppose, I regret I failed to think of how anyone else might be affected."

"You lost a member of your family, it's to be expected," muttered Gillette.

James steadied himself on his desk with his right hand.  Matthieu's words only reminded him painfully of the reason why they were here this moment in the first place.  James clenched his jaw and glanced up at the ceiling as he fought back the threatening tears and regained composure.  "Quite so," James mustered, his voice wavering some.  He turned as if he were looking for something, and then his hand flew to one of the pockets on the uniform coat.  "I…I have something that I would like to give to you."

Gillette watched as James withdrew a fine gold chain from his pocket.  Dangling from the middle of the necklace was a small gold angel figure.  "This was given to Katherine when she was a little girl," James explained as he lovingly studied the jewelry.  "I remember father gave it to her because he always called her his angel.  She's had it all this time…"  A small smiled played at the edges of James's lips as he thought back through the years.  He finally looked back up to Gillette and held out the necklace.  "I think you should have this, to remember her by."

Matthieu choked back the emotion welling up inside him as he slowly reached out and took the necklace.  He held it carefully as if it might crumble in his grasp.  James watched him for a moment before speaking once more.  "She loved you, Matthieu, of that I am certain.  She kept on explaining how she turned down suitor after suitor in England, and how she would only marry for love.  I believe she found it."

Matthieu looked up from the necklace and directly into James's eyes when he muttered those words.  He watched as his commanding officer and friend fought with his own emotions.  James paused for a moment as his eyes fell to the floor.  He then brought his eyes back up and straightened his stance.  "There would have been no greater honor than to call you my brother."

All of the dreams Gillette had conjured and all the memories that he and Katherine had shared suddenly came flooding back into his mind.  Marriage, children, promotion, and an adventure to the colonies were all on their agenda.  But those dreams were now scattered to the wind with Katherine's passing.  Despair over her death and relief over James's acknowledgement swept through Matthieu like a storm as he embraced James.  They were already brothers, if not by blood or marriage, than by duty and passion.  A duty to King and country, and a passion for the ones they held dear.  It was a bond that not even death could break.

Please take note of my name change and acknowledge the fact that CommodoresLady and L.M. Colburn are one and the same.

Thank you for your patience, and do not worry – there is plenty more to come!  Once again, thank you for the wonderful reviews, they truly mean a lot.

And if you're looking for a fun time, take a look at my Webshots photo albums to see the author with the real life inspiration for our beloved Darby!  With any luck this horse will come home and be my pet for the summer. J