Two Men

Chapter 3

'Truth sits upon the lips of dying men.' – Matthew Arnold

It really wasn't Norrington's day, and he knew it. First the dead body was fished up from the harbour; next a merchant vessel was looted in Port Royal waters – right under his nose.

To top it off, the captain of the ship in question was claiming that none other than the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow had attacked him. Really, as if he didn't have enough to deal with without mad pirate captains.

The Dutch captain of the raided vessel, a Captain Marchal, was babbling away at him, in a mixture of English and French, where the ship had docked, and Norrington had the feeling that he was going to be stuck there all day.

"Sir," he said stiffly, "Sir, if you would please calm yourself and provide us with a list of stolen items –"

"- Le Capitaine Sparrow, and the Pearl! The bastard fils de pute took the rum – all my precious rum! Et quelqu'un a volé ma pipe, c'était un cadeau de ma femme, dammit!"

Captain Marchal was portly and very red in the face, and at that moment, Norrington was wishing with all his heart that the man would faint from stress and shut the hell up.

"Sir! If you would kindly give us a list of stolen items I will do my best to catch the brigands in question. Also any information you might have of what direction they were last seen sailing in, would be most appreciated."

Captain Marchal grumbled and moaned for a little while longer, but no one – not even Governor Swann – could resist the note of command in Norrington's voice when he really wanted to get his point across.

Norrington was sympathetic to the captain's problem; it was highly unlikely that the goods would be recuperated, and if they were it was more than probable they would be damaged. Unless the captain and the company he worked for had insured all the items aboard, they stood to lose a very large amount of money.

However, taking out your frustrations on perfectly innocent naval commanders who were only trying to help was most definitely not something he was sympathetic to. In brief, the man was trying his patience.

As was Sparrow. The very gall of the man, blatantly raiding ships so close to Port Royal. Just because he was friends with Turner and Miss Swann did not mean the Governor was going to condone every action he made – and he was really pushing it.

It would be a relief, Norrington thought to himself, yes, almost a relief to see the man hang for his crimes and then it would be up to the Devil to deal with the 'uncatchable' Captain Sparrow, and see him pay. Still, he had to admit, Sparrow had deserved his freedom that one time, if only because he'd had the chance to betray them all, and hadn't taken it. But as he'd said to Elizabeth that day he'd proposed, one good deed was not enough. No indeed, the very fact the man chose to be a pirate negated any good deeds he might perform since ultimately they were always performed with some kind of self-interest in mind.

The crew of the looted vessel were helping the passengers down onto the docks; several seemed deeply disturbed by the attack – something Norrington didn't find in the least surprising considering the attacker.

"What's wrong with him?" He asked one of the nearest crewmembers, nodding his head towards a man who'd just descended off the ship.

The man was, to put it plainly, a gibbering wreck. He kept muttering about crazy female pirates.

"Lady pirate took his belongings – he must have had some expensive possessions on him or something – hasn't been the same since."

Norrington shook his head, pirates; they truly were the parasites of society.

A call from the head of the dock pulled his attention away from the Dutch merchant ship.

"Commodore, sir!"

"What is it?"

"Mr. Hedwin says he's discovered something you might find useful."

Mr. Hedwin was the local undertaker. He'd been put in charge of Annie Price's corpse.

"I'll be right with you. Captain Marchal, I'm afraid my other duties call me away. Lieutenant Gillette will take down the particulars. I assure you we will do our utmost to see these pirates brought to justice."

It was with some inner satisfaction that he left the docks for the undertaker's – not that he would ever have admitted to finding some of his duties a chore; if they needed to be done, then by Jove he would do them... Surely to ask he enjoy them as well was going a little far though?

Entering the cool cellar where Mr. Hedwin dealt with the deceased before burial sobered his lightened spirits immediately. The young officer who'd brought him the message him had stopped at the door, intimidated by the scent of death.

"Ah, Commodore! Got something should interest you."

Hedwin looked like everybody's favourite old uncle – rosy cheeked (he was fond of the odd drop of port), twinkling eyes (that could size a man up in under a minute – for his coffin and for his character) and a bushy moustache that bristled as if it had a life of its own.

People were often disconcerted to find he was an undertaker – for the profession was regarded with a mixture of fear and need, and even, in some cases, an underlying hatred.

Norrington had become acquainted with Hedwin when a series of crimes against the undertaker had required Navy assistance. Hedwin's shop was almost burnt down but the perpetrators were stopped in time and Norrington had found in the undertaker an unlikely ally. His manner was off-putting considering his profession, but Norrington appreciated his cheerfulness in the face of human mortality and his blunt advice, which was rarely wrong when concerning the manner of death.

"Dead from shock, poor dear, long before she was dumped in the water. Got her tongue first – so she couldn't scream. He'd her tied down so she couldn't struggle too much – look, you can see the bruises from the ropes."

Norrington nodded. You could indeed make out bruises on pale skin.

"You think it was a man?"

"Probably, probably – young healthy girl like that could have put up quite a fight against someone her own strength... but there's nothing much to show for it on her.

Stunned her quick like and got her under control before she came round. That's what I wanted to talk t'you about."

"What have you found?"

"Murderer cracked her skull when he hit her. And it made it harder for him when he scalped her – look, I found these. They're either from the weapon he used to hit her, or from the weapon used to scalp her."

Hedwin had deposited two slivers of black rock into a little enamel bowl. He turned them over with a needle for Norrington to have a better look.

"See the sharp edge? My bet's on the scalping knife."

"It wasn't metal? Do you recognise the material?"

"No-o, seems familiar though, don't it?"

"They couldn't be from rocks she banged against underwater?"

"It's a possibility, of course, but I don't know of any rocks like this round Port Royal. Unless he killed her somewhere else and the tide brought her in."

The evidence was interesting, but it brought up more questions than it answered. He thanked the undertaker and made his way, blinking, out into the sunlight. They would be burying the girl soon. It was too hot and humid in the Caribbean to even consider keeping her longer for further examination.

He walked back to the fort, deep in thought. Just as he was arriving a shout went up from one of the watchtowers and a marine ran over with the news a pirate ship had been sighted.

"The Black Pearl?"

"We're not certain, sir. She's rather far off."

He headed up to the battlements, avoided looking at the side where Elizabeth had fallen and Sparrow had tripped and both had somehow escaped him with an unconsciousness born of much practice.

The telescope didn't help much; the ship was disappearing again over the horizon.

"You're certain it was a pirate vessel?"

"Yessir, saw the Jolly Roger, sir." A watchman confirmed.

"Do you wish to pursue, sir?" Lieutenant Baxter asked, he was new to his rank and Norrington had left him in charge of the fort partly as a test of his abilities and partly because the more experienced marines wouldn't let him make too many grave mistakes.

"They'll already be out of Port Royal waters, Baxter. Another day."

"Yes sir."

Baxter would do all right, Norrington thought, he wasn't some eager inexperienced fool ready to abandon his post over the mere sighting of an unknown ship.

And Friday was tomorrow, Norrington suddenly remembered. The ball... he felt incredibly weary for a moment. He nodded to Lieutenant Baxter and made his way down to his office. Could he beg off attendance because of too much work? The Governor would no doubt do that kicked-puppy look he'd obviously learnt from his clever daughter. It would be fun, he reminded himself, there'd be dancing (and no one he wanted to dance with), he'd see Elizabeth (and Turner)... no, he should go. Better to face these things now than let them beat him down. Deal with the feelings and move on. He was going to the ball... whether he liked it or not.

TBC

Author's Note: Can you imagine Cinderella's fairy godmother threatening her until she went to the ball? Norrington doesn't need a godmother – it's all in his own head! Ah, my poor adored Commodore! Don't worry, the inimitable Captain will surely cheer you up (pictures Jack doing so, and shivers).

I'm sorry I've taken so long to update – I'm a lazy so-and-so, that I am. The sequel's supposed to come out in 2006, right? Hah! I've still got time! (runs from axe-wielding friends)

The quote's supposed to refer to the evidence fragments found in Annie Price's skull... hmm, not all that much truth yet... Perhaps I need some more dying men.