III
The Name of the Man
Norrington awoke with a searing pain in his head. As his eyes cleared, they fixed on those of a young woman. 'Elizabeth!' he thought for a split second. Upon closer inspection, this girl in no way resembled Elizabeth. She wore a dress of the palest blue that exactly matched her eyes, and her hair spiraled into platinum-blonde curls.
Norrington tried to raise himself, but the girl pushed him back into the mountain of feather pillows. He gave her hand a tight squeeze. All his life, he had taken care of the Crown. Never had anyone taken care of him. Yet here was this tender, motherly creature who had taken him under her wing when all others had deserted him.
He looked up at his pretty savior and saw a tear on her cheek. It glistened like a diamond in the light, but it was far more precious. This was a kind of jewel no pirate could ever plunder. He caressed her wet cheek as if to say, "Don't weep for me,' but saw, to his horror, a black streak where his hand had been. He had marred her perfect porcelain skin! "I'm sorry, Miss-" he said, embarrassed.
"Anna," she finished for him. "My name is Anna.'
She was surprised! This man sounded so well-bred when he spoke to her. She had expected him to be another rough-and-tumble drunkard that john typically entertained. 'But he was in the Navy,' she reminded herself. Or was he? Maybe he was really a pirate who stole that coat off a poor dead sailor. After all, she knew nothing of this man! He hadn't even told her his name. "Well," Anna said cheerfully, "now you know my name, but I can't recall yours.'
"James Norrington," he introduced himself.
"Norrington," Anna repeated to herself. "Norrington. I know that name. Why do I know that name?"