Life is governed by rules. Especially for the second son of a prominent family. Second sons have always been viewed as prodigal. It's the first born that has all the familial duties. The responsibility to the existing generations and the ones to be. One would think that would be enough.
The second sons though – especially the second sons of families without noble blood - they're the ones that have a struggle on their hands. To prove that they have and can make something of themselves is to be the epitome of everything expected of a gentleman of breeding. There is no room for even a single misstep, whether it be in career or social life. One mistake, one thoughtless word, one unwise deed . . . they are what can mean the difference between a life of success and a life of anonymity.
I know because I have lived this life, and I have the duties and respect to show for it.
In a way it has been easy. When there are rules governing every part of your life – from how to eat, how to dress, how to stand, speak . . . even how to make one's bed – then the chance of making a mistake is small. If one can keep the rules straight.
As a young man I'd run the rules that govern my life through my head over and over instead of carousing with my peers. I'd fall asleep reciting them, and wake up with them in the forefront of my mind. That dedication has borne fruit. I'm no longer an young man. The men with whom I once shared quarters with in my off-hours have done well for themselves, but well has never been enough for me.
Excellence, honor, duty, respect, obedience, responsibility . . . chivalry. These ideas have embroidered my existence in the same way these gilded threads hem in my sleeves. There is no way to grow except within the boundaries of one's set of rules. As more responsibilities are given and commendations gained, a new row of embroidery is added in military exactness. Women, drink, and riches all have their place. Used wisely, they make life very comfortable indeed. But unless a man is able to control his desire of them, he is a slave to them, and a slave has no control. No respect. No name and no future.
No, I am a self-made man. Whatever credit I have to my name, whatever plaudits I've been given, whatever acclaim I've garnered, it is mine. My family may hold their heads up. The men under their command needn't wonder if I will throw them pointlessly into battles that have not been planed down to the minutia. The people I am in charge of protecting will not need to question my complete devotion to making the islands and lawless waters of their homes safe.
Despite all of this though, I am always conscious that one misstep – in the past, in the present, or in the future – could bring all my accomplishments crashing down around my head. As I gain more and more influence the enormity of the mistake grows. I will not lose my post due to a careless comment to a man of greater rank. I will not be shipped back to England for a momentary lapse of temper in front of the wrong person. As long as I am a credit to my rank and the great men who have commended me through the years, I will never have to worry about my future again.
There is much I've learned in life, but no lesson is so striking as that without discipline, nothing is possible. Crops can't be grown, cloth can't be woven, ships can't be built, men can't be anything more than savages. It is discipline that keeps a man from giving into his base desires.
And here, on the day of what is my greatest triumph to date, I am forced to come face to face with the evidence that all I have ever believed is correct. Vile and dissolute creatures, the lot of them. That description is still apt. They prey on their fellow man, spreading disease, discontent, and destruction in their wake. Why does Elizabeth not see this as she stubbornly trails along, trying to defend this wastrel?
Finally in exasperation I answer her pleas for lenience with military – and moral – authority. "One good deed is not enough to redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness." Her jaw drops at this stern answer. The pirate takes all this in stride however.
"Though it seems enough to condemn him."
Shock registers his words in my ears. How is it that a pirate – someone from the lowest rungs of society – is able to so aptly target into a thought I've held all my life?
It is that shock I blame for what happens next. Allowing a gentlewoman to get so close to a criminal is and was inexcusable. The pirate takes his opportunity for escape, and fearing for Elizabeth's life, my men and I can only allow him to proceed. He hasn't escaped me for long though. I will not allow him to so tarnish my career on it's brightest day. Captain Jack Sparrow has a date to keep whether he likes it or not. I've spent a lifetime learning how to bend events to my will. This time will be no different.
Just a note to everyone reading this – Norrington, at this point in the movie where we don't know much about him, is hard to write. There is no depth to his character yet, but this is my interpretation of him.
Also I want to thank everyone who is reading bobo3's Twisting Fate. She's doing an excellent job. Much better than I could ever do at this point in her life. This is really her baby, and I want you all to continue encouraging her. Not that I think she'll make that difficult. :D