Set after the sneak attack on the Dauntless and before the return to Port Royal. Developed from my obsession with the one injured sailor who rang the bell on the Dauntless. Such a swift glance at heroism. I felt that those deaths shouldn't be passed over and that they would especially affect Norrington. The liturgy of the burial at sea mostly comes from an actual 17th century service.
(Note: Since the Dauntless is Norrington's ship, I interpreted the Interceptor as being captained by Grove, hence his rank)
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Owned by Disney.
No Mercy
By Honorat Selonnet
The brief elation of victory was over. The pirates of the Black Pearl were locked safely in the brig, ready for transport to Fort Charles and the gallows. Commodore Norrington strode the blood-washed decks of the Dauntless and wondered at how hollow his triumph seemed. Around him, the task of cleaning up after the battle was seething. Sailors and officers, heedless of rank, were hauling the wounded to the ship's surgeon. Too many wounded. Their cries echoed in his ears, accusing. But the silence of the dead weighed on his heart like an anchor. They had been his men, his responsibility, and he had failed them. Sent them up against the undead, unprepared, outmatched. And for what? For his own glory? As a gesture to impress the girl he loved? Even now she was gone. Chasing after the blacksmith and that insane pirate whose fault this entire fiasco was. Lost somewhere in the caves of Isla de Muerta where the real battle must have taken place, the real victory been won—a victory he did not even understand in a battle whose parameters escaped him. He did not even know if she were still alive.
The commodore paused beside the ship's bell. The sailor who had rung the alarm in the midst of the battle, alerting the ambush party, lay face down in a pool of his own congealed blood, hand still reaching towards the rope pull. A trail of blood smeared across the deck showed that he had already been injured when he had dragged himself to the bell. Norrington knelt beside the body. Gently he turned the sailor over. Empty eyes stared up at him from a face frozen in a mask of determination and pain. Caleb Cooper, his mind supplied unbidden. A young wife at home with three small children. Suddenly his eyes stung. Carefully he brushed his hand over the man's eyes, closing them. His hand lingered on Caleb's bloody hair. "I thank you, sir," the Commodore of the Fleet whispered to the midshipman. "You saved this ship."
He became aware that Captain Grove was standing beside him. Looking up, he saw in the moonlight the captain's eyes were shadowed with grief. His thin face seemed to have acquired new lines of care. "He was a good man," the captain said softly.
"They were all good men," Norrington sighed, getting to his feet. Hailing two of the passing crew, he indicated that Cooper's body be prepared for burial. Captain Grove left him then to arrange for the funeral service, and the commodore reluctantly turned toward the governor's cabin. He was not looking forward to this interview.
The commodore was grateful when the lookout reported that the governor's daughter was returning from the island. He had thought that Wetherby Swann would crawl over the edge of the ship in his anxiety to go after her. His own anxiety had been tempered by the more pressing duties on ship. Through the glass, he observed the tiny boat rounding the point where Jack Sparrow had entered the caves. His first shock of joy that Elizabeth was safe and returning to him was rapidly superseded by a rush of rage that left him shaken as he caught sight of the gold-decked pirate in the bow of the rowboat. How dared Jack Sparrow lead him into such a trap without mentioning the fact that Barbossa's crew was cursed? In his heart he knew that he would never have believed such a story, but that didn't change the fact that Sparrow had lied. It did not help that he knew if they had followed Sparrow's plan and returned to the Dauntless immediately, their losses would not have been so great. It was Sparrow's fault they were here at all. Well at least his piratical friends had stolen his ship leaving him no alternative but to return to the Dauntless and his interrupted appointment with the gallows at Port Royal.
Elizabeth was first to climb up over the ship's rail. Her uniform that had replaced her torn and sooty underdress was now in an equally disreputable condition. Her father rushed to scold and embrace her, but she turned to watch Jack Sparrow, somehow shed of his plunder, join her on deck followed by Will Turner. The three of them looked like pirates together, although Sparrow was missing some of his usual ebullience. In fact he seemed entirely subdued, not even bothering to speak as Norrington motioned for Murtogg and Mulroy to restrain him.
Will looked mutinous, but took his cue from Jack.
Elizabeth held out a hand to the pirate, "Jack . . ." Her eyes were troubled.
His unnaturally sober eyes met hers, "'S okay, lass." Jack's gaze traveled to the twelve canvas shrouded bodies, the men who had paid the price for his plan. He had known some might when he had formulated the plan, though he had not imagined it would be so many. Placing his palms together, he bowed a brief thanks in their direction. Then he turned back to Elizabeth. Nodding toward the corpses, he told her, "There is the truth of the stories, Miss Swann." One person's happy ending was always someone else's tragedy. She met his eyes and he saw comprehension. Then he allowed himself to be manacled and led off to the brig without a fuss. The Commodore suppressed a moment of uneasiness. It disturbed him that Sparrow should feel his debt to the dead of the Dauntless, that the pirate should accept his judgment without question or the escape attempt Norrington had come to expect.
The next business at hand promised to be even more unpleasant. "Mr. Turner," Norrington spoke firmly. Duty was duty after all. "You stand accused of aiding and abetting a known criminal in a jailbreak and of commandeering a ship of the British navy which was subsequently destroyed, crimes of theft and piracy." Elizabeth gave a little cry of outrage, but her father held her back. Will simply nodded, his face expressionless. "Will you accompany these gentlemen to the brig peaceably?" the Commodore asked.
He was unsurprised when young Turner replied calmly, "Yes, sir." The boy glanced once more at Elizabeth's horrified face, gave her a small bleak smile, and followed two more marines in Jack's wake. As he disappeared belowdecks, Elizabeth broke out in protest to her father. Norrington had no time or desire to argue with her. He fell back on duty, escaping to the quarterdeck.
The last of the pirate bodies had been cleared off the ship. The brig was full of the still living pirates destined for Port Royal and the gallows. Although Commodore Norrington longed to leave the cursed island far behind, he had one last duty to perform. The Dauntless had been brought to, sitting still in the water, her sails set to counteract each other. Her top-gallant yards hung acockbill, her lines out of trim, her colours at half mast letting all who might see her know she was in mourning. The twelve of his men who had died in the battle awaited their final service from the living, shrouded in canvas, weighted with cannon balls, draped in the ship's ensigns. So anonymous in death. Norrington forced himself to remember each face and name—their blood was on his hands.
The Bosun had assembled the crew who were able in formation on deck. The commodore watched their weary sorrowing faces—not a one but could count a friend amongst those silent bundles.
Norrington stood with Captain Grove and his officers, bareheaded and somber, as the chaplain began the traditional service for burial at sea, but he was not really listening. His eyes wandered to where Elizabeth stood with her father, still dressed as a soldier, her lovely face stormy. Even now he could scarcely believe that she would be his. Somehow she seemed even more unreachable now than ever before. She had promised him her hand, but he was no longer sure he could win her heart.
Conspicuous by their absence were young Will Turner and Jack Sparrow, who were sharing a cell in the brig along with the other pirates. But even his success at bringing in so many criminals did not lighten Norrington's heart. Never had he felt the futility of victory so completely. The row of blue draped corpses haunted him. A phrase from the liturgy caught the Commodore's ear: "For man walketh in a vain shadow, and disquieteth himself in vain: he heapeth up riches, and cannot tell who shall gather them." A fitting tribute to this island of treasure and death.
The moment came when the canvas wrapped dead were tipped solemnly from under the ensigns over the rail of the Dauntless. The timeless words of grief and farewell rose again. "We commend to Almighty God our shipmates and we commit their bodies to the depths. The Lord bless them and keep them. The Lord make his face to shine upon them and be gracious unto them. The Lord lift up his countenance upon them, and give them peace."
There would be no peace for the living. As Norrington bowed his head for the final prayer, drifting out over the restless grey waters that had closed so completely over the dead, his heart cried out along with the words:
Lord, have mercy upon us.
Christ, have mercy upon us.
Lord, have mercy upon us.
But it was too late for mercy. All that remained was judgment.