Interlude

"Good Morning, Captain Sparrow. I hope you had a good night."

I rise from the straw, and dust my clothes. "Good Morning, Commodore Norrington. I had an agreeable night, given the circumstances. But it is, as always, a pleasure to see you."

He gives me this faint smile again, the faint smile that seems to be reserved for me during these last days.

"Please put your hands behind your back, Captain Sparrow."

I do as he tells me, and feel metal cuffs enclosing my wrists. The soldier that puts them on me closes them tight and they bite into my skin. I wince, though barely noticeable. But Norrington sees it. And after the soldier has turned to stand by my side, he comes to loosen them a bit. When he is so close to me, I feel his despair very clearly. Oh my. I thought this was terrible for me, waiting through days and nights in the cold, in the dark, for my death. But how terrible has it been for him. He is my friend. I know he loves me as much as I do love him. And he couldn't do anything about it. He had to wait. Wait for me. To die. For his men to kill me. He will still be there. I will be gone and he will have to cope with that. It is easy for me, once the trapdoor falls. It won't be easy for him. I feel so sorry for him suddenly. I can tell he feels responsible for it all. He is not. It was meant to be, and I am confident about it. This is what has to happen.

But I want him to feel better about this.

While the soldier drags at my arm, I lean closer to Norrington.

"This is not your fault."

He looks at me and I see utter shock on his face.

"Pardon me?"

"I don't feel sorry. Please don't feel sorry on my behalf."

He stares at me with his eyes wide open, and when I smile, he gulps.

I lean close to him for this short second.

"I loved her too."

Tears well in his eyes. I quickly look away, Lord, I didn't want to do that. But I want him to know. Desperately want him to know. Do you know, Commodore? There is one more thing I must say to him, and, not hiding my own tears but not looking at his either, in a voice so clear and steady that it even surprises me, I tell him.

"… and … I love you."

Then the soldier drags me out.

He is left standing there, alone once again, and I still feel sorry for him.

The sun on the horizon paints the sky faintly blue when the soldiers walk me out of the cell block. The air is fresh and clear, and I suck in the sea breeze hungrily. The splash of the surf, only one more time on my face.

Too late.

The stones are cold under my feet. Wet. The rain has only stopped an hour ago. I look over to catch a glimpse of the sea lying flat and calm in the morning light.

The view from the yardarm, nothing but waves all around me, and the ship sailing to where the sea and the horizon intermingle. Where the waves wash into the clouds. That view. One last time.

… too late.

The fingers of the soldiers around my arms bruise my flesh, and I wonder why they are pulling me along, when I would have walked to the gallows all alone. But my knees are weak, they are just holding me upright. Who knows if I could manage to walk there by myself. This is not an easy trip. I am scared.

A huge mass of people have gathered around the platform. Wow. You have all come to see me die.

The crowd shoves the soldiers and me around. They are like the waves on a windy day.

Diving into the clear blue once again. Diving deep, weightless. It is not as unpleasant to have the waves spit at you.

The wood of the platform is wet and rough. I'm weary, and I stumble. The soldier's grab around my arms tightens.

"I'm sorry."

What am I sorry for. I forgot.