A/N: Ok, extreme apologies for the time it's taken this chapter to be updated. The only thing I can plead is the heavy amount of schoolwork I was given combined with holidays. Anyway, I'm on my way with the next chapter so it shouldn't be too long before that's up (I hope).
Any ideas for a chapter title would be greatly apreciated - I really couldn't think of one. Oh, and as for any mistakes I've made, it'd be appreciated if someone tells me. Perhaps getting a Beta would help.;)
Thanks to all my reviewers! Canis Majorius: I can only apologise about the title. I really wasn't aware that you had a story by this name.
Chapter four -
Jack had a look of slight disgruntlement on his face.
"Ye know, if I hadn't o' heard the words straight from ye mouth, I'd have never believed that." He broke into one of his characteristic grins. "Whoever heard of an officer of his Majesty's navy listenin' te the gutter rumours."
"Sometimes you can't afford to ignore them, as I'm sure you well know," James replied.
Jack inclined his head in agreement, then began gesturing in his wildly erratic way.
"So. How about it then. Ye goin' te have te tell me at some point, else I'll find out about it meself when we put inte either Tortuga or Port Royal."
"You can't put into Port Royal…" James paused. "Oh. Right." Jack wouldn't have to sail into Port Royal, merely drop anchor in one of the many bays in the immediate vicinity of the town. He'd known that some how Jack had been visiting Will and Elizabeth, but he hadn't quite figured out where he'd been berthing his ship.
"Come on then, mate. I aint got all day."
James smiled at Jack's impatience, enjoying the small power this piece of knowledge gave him, for once, over Jack.
"Well, surely you've heard of the new pirate threat in the area?"
"Ah, yes." Jack smiled. "Being dubbed the second Black Pearl down in Rio." The smile disappeared. "Pity it was Barbossa that got the Pearl to leave her mark."
James shook his head. Over a year later and it seemed Jack still had the shadow of Barbossa hanging over his head, something Will and Elizabeth hadn't picked up on.
James looked out to sea, thinking back over the weeks. "Well, I suppose the whole affair started with when I was ordered out of port some weeks back…
> > > >
Somewhere in the Caribbean Sea, one month earlier…
"We therefore commit their bodies to the deep, to be turned into corruption. Looking for the resurrection of the body when the sea shall give up her dead and the life of the world to come, through our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen."
Norrington snapped shut the Bible he was holding, watching blankly as the pallet was lifted by the two seamen and the shrouded bodies slid from under their covering of the Union Flag and into the cold ocean.
If only he'd been in the Dauntless, instead of patrolling in the little frigate that had been sent to replace the lost Interceptor, the Athene. If only they'd met that phantom of a ship under more favourable conditions.
He made a conscious effort to bite back his anger. He'd learnt long ago there was no point in playing 'what if?', though it didn't stop him from thinking it. It never changed anything, no matter how much you wished it.
The simple fact was that they'd been beaten by a ship larger than theirs and they'd had to run. He smiled grimly. But not without putting up a fight first. However small.
He'd been ordered out of Port Royal by Vice-Admiral Sir John Thorpe, currently flying his flag from a three decker, the Pegasus, docked in Kingston. The admiral had arrived a bare few weeks earlier, sent to take over from Norrington as the senior officer of the Jamaican squadron. Evidently the Admiralty thought a higher ranking officer would do a better job.
Norrington had, of course assumed he would be taking the Dauntless since at his rank she was his ship. The admiral however, insisted that he take the Athene instead, saying he wanted a quick scout of the immediate area, and the Dauntless despite her firepower, would be too slow to be effective. Why send him in charge then? Surely Captain Arnett would have been able to handle it?
Though Norrington would never be the one to say it, especially to his face, by God how the admiral misjudged the situation.
It had come out of nowhere. The unknown ship that had been plaguing ships and settlements in the area. It was all starting to sound horribly familiar to Norrington; already rumours were spreading of who it was. That the Black Pearl was at it again; that Barbossa himself was behind it all; that some unknown pirate deemed himself 'worthy' of succeeding Barbossa's legacy. Of course due to the current animosity between England and France and Spain it could be a privateer of some sort.
His first thought had been that it was Jack Sparrow, that that head start had been one of the biggest miscalculations he'd ever made. But any survivors had told no tales of a ship with black sails, no mysterious fog had sprung up, and neither had Sparrow, from what information he could gather, attacked any English ships of late, nor been in the vicinity.
But for Norrington, the whole incident had become personal. Not only had it attacked ships of the King's navy, it had attacked St. Kitts, the island where his sister Eleanor and her husband, George Barrington lived. Had lived, in the case of George Barrington, killed in the attack and leaving his widow with yet another to grieve over. Briefly he wondered if he should fetch her to Port Royal, where he would at least be able to keep a closer eye on her.
But Norrington had had to run from the very person who had done that to her. True, they'd put up as much of a fight as they could, but that didn't get away from the fact that in the end they'd had to run.
"Captain Arnett, prepare to weigh anchor. Set topsails and courses." Outwardly Norrington was as calm as he'd ever been, but inside he was livid, seething at the thought of running from those pirate bastards.
"Aye sir," Arnett answered, striding away to give orders.
"All hands prepare to weigh anchor! Hands aloft to take out sail!"
Norrington glance up at the flapping masthead pennant.
"Set the t'gallents too if the wind lightens anymore," he ordered.
Norrington watched grimly as his orders were relayed to the waiting seamen, who swarmed up the shrouds in their haste to comply with the Captain's order. Others rushed to the capstan with the bars, and throwing their weight against them, slowly began to turn to the accompaniment of a penny whistle.
He hadn't realised just how much he missed being in command of a frigate. Even now, when he was merely giving out orders and not strictly in command. Of course, talk to any officer of flag rank and he'd tell you to savour the freedom and speed of such a ship while you could. He let the feeling wash over him, lessening his anger somewhat.
> > > >
They couldn't have done more than a mile nor gotten up to the kind of speed Norrington would have liked before they were interrupted yet again.
"Deck there! Sail ho off the Larboard bow!"
Norrington snatched up a glass and trained it in the indicated direction. It wasn't hard to find. A brig coming up on the horizon, all canvas flying, making it quite obvious it was there. Clearly her commander was confident. As she crept closer the red ensign flapping from her stern became visible. Ah. One of theirs then.
"Mr Goodwin," Norrington addressed the Lieutenant of the watch. "Signal them to identify themselves."
The signal flags flew up the yards, to be quickly answered. The midshipman in charge of the signals consulted his book rapidly under the gaze of his commanding officers.
"She's the Hermione, sir, Captain Briggs commanding." As he spoke more shapes flew up the Hermione's yards and broke out in the wind.
"Signal sir! Hermione to Athene. Heave to, dispatches on board."
He sighed. This had better be important if the admiral wanted him to complete his patrol of the numerous islands under the watch of the Jamaican section of the Caribbean squadron. Perhaps orders had finally come from the main fleet at Antigua.
"Very well. Captain, heave to and take in sail."
"Aye sir. All hands about ship! Off tacks and sheets! Prepare the mains'l haul!"
> > > >
Norrington took the unopened letter below, thankful for the use of the Captain's cabin while aboard. Oddly enough, the letter was accompanied by a package of some sort. Satisfying his curiosity, he broke the Admiral's seal, skimming the formalities of the opening of the letter. His eyes however, snagged on a certain word, and he re-read that part of the despatch.
'…to proceed with all despatch to the isle of Tortuga, whereupon you will attempt to discover the perpetrators behind the recent attacks on English ships and colonies. You will transfer to the brig Hermione where you will be taken with all haste to l'île de rochers. Here a ship is arranged for your final passage into Tortuga.
Tell no-one of this except the Captains of the Athene and the Hermione. If it need be known it is to be told you are being temporarily transferred to the fleet at Antigua.'
He sat down heavily behind the tiny desk in the equally tiny cabin, his mind reeling from what he'd just read.
Why had he been chosen? Was there any particular purpose to it? He had a certain command of languages – his father had been insistent on that too – but that couldn't be the sole reason. Playing on his desire to protect friends and family maybe? Or was he still seen among those at the Admiralty as merely a poor merchants son, managing to do well for himself and therefore expendable?
He resisted the urge to screw up the letter clenched in his fist. He'd need it to explain the situation to the other Captains and leave orders for them, and for that he needed his temper under control. He sighed, rubbing his eyes, realising with a jolt that he couldn't have slept for at least a day or so. Damn pirates.
He strode to the door, and opening it, ordered the marine sentry, "Pass the word for Captains Arnett and Briggs."
He turned away, hearing the order echoing through the ship. Moments later there was a clattering followed by the marine's announcement of the arrival of the two captains.
When the door had closed behind them he faced the two men, studying them. Of the two, Arnett he knew best. After all, he'd been posted in Port Royal for the past year, whereas Briggs was only seen occasionally, relaying orders from the headquarters at Antigua.
"Gentlemen, I have received fresh orders concerning the current situation concerning the attacker."
Both men perked up at this, Arnett exclaiming, "Finally! Something decisive I hope, sir?"
"Well, I suppose that depends on your point of view, Paul. Our superiors have seen fit to send me 'undercover' as it were, to Tortuga." He let this piece of information sink in, and judging by the stunned silence, it wasn't going in too well.
It was Briggs who broke the silence. "Tortuga, sir? That must be madness!"
"Nevertheless that is the destination chosen by our superiors. I am to transfer to the Hermione and you are to convey me to l'île de rochers." He resisted the urge to pace the room. He wondered if either men spoke french. Island of rocks. Indeed, there was nothing else there other than the small fishing village. "There it is assured a merchant brig under the pay of the admiralty will convey me the rest of the way." He added.
He paused, looking out the stern windows at the light dappling on the surface of the rippling sea, at potentially the last sunset he would ever see from the cabin of a vessel of the royal navy. Good God, he was being morbid already.
"A night transfer would be best, I think. It is to be known that I have been temporarily re-assigned to the fleet at Antigua, Paul. William, when you have taken me to my destination you are to return to the fleet at Antigua. Do not tell your crew openly but when I come aboard your ship, but they are to think I am a passenger the Athene had been transporting elsewhere."
Neither man wore a look that betrayed any sort of ease with this new set of orders, but both knew there wasn't a thing they could do about it.
He looked between the two men. "You have your orders. I want both ships ready to make sail by eight bells. Paul, I'll give you written orders to take to Port Royal in the event I don't return." He saw the shocked look in the other man's eyes. "I know I don't sound optimistic about coming back but we should be prepared for such an eventuality. In any event Captain Groves is to be in charge of the garrison until my return, or the admiral sees fit."
He dismissed the two men and sat down heavily in his chair. Apart from preparing there was something else to do.
Eleanor would be stubborn about it, especially in light of her husbands recent death, but he'd rather she move to Port Royal for the immediate future. At least she wouldn't be isolated at that damn plantation.
In some ways that was ironic. If her husband had been at the plantation where he was supposed to be and not in port drinking away his money he would still be alive. Still, what was done was done.
He shook his head, clearing his thoughts and reaching for his pen.