Chapter 12: Flame and Ignite

The wind howled around the Black Pearl. It was strong enough that it would tear sails to shreds. Crushing waves high as the deck doused the floors. If there were any crewmen topside, they would have been swept overboard for certain.

However, the ship flew no sails, and the crew was all below, rowing for their lives.

The only man topside was Captain Jack Sparrow. He wore a long thick rope 'round his waist which was secured below deck. There was no way that he would be thrown off the ship.

Lightning sparked across the black skies, illuminating briefly the peril of their situation. Waves were monstrously tall. The wind whistled across the Pearl's bare deck; the guns and equipment were stowed below with the supplies.

Jack grimaced, then spun the wheel, directing his ship on the sides of the green waves each time one formed. It was slow going, but with the assistance of the oars, they would get through this alive.

It also helped that he'd plotted a course that would take them through only the side of the storm. He could scarcely imagine what it would be like near the center.

The Dauntless was under even worse stress. The sails were up, but they had no oars, and were at the mercy of the sea. The waves were crashing over them, frothing a horrid green as water swept guns off the side.

James Norrington was at the helm, determined to catch Jack Sparrow. The man would not escape him again. And he'd seen the man's ship steer towards the center. Well, if he can go through it, so can we.

Then he saw the horror of what he was in. A large wave smacked into the bow, spinning them 'round and forcing the wheel to spin with frightening speed.

He had no idea how they would survive.

The Dauntless suddenly stilled. The rocking ceased, and no waves crashed across the deck. James Norrington opened his squinted-closed eyes. It was a bright day before him, light clouds the only visible things. He breathed out.

Then shadows cast across the deck. He saw black clouds returning. No, no, no. They were going back into the storm.

Then matters got worse.

A bolt of lightning shot out and struck the mast. The wood exploded, showering the deck in enormous splinters which quickly caught fire. Flame danced across the deck and he saw one splinter fall below.

Directly on to a small cache of gunpowder.

Oh, no.

The explosion did not shred the ship apart, but it tore a hole in the deck, which would cause real trouble.

Then the waves came back. Even above the roar of the ocean he heard the cries from below. He bowed his head. I've failed them. They would die in this wretched storm, and so would he.

Waves scores of feet high pounded the wounded ship as she spun aimlessly in the monster that tormented her.

James Norrington made dead sure that his lifeline was secure, then locked the wheel in place. He ran below to see the men.

Many were huddled in places he'd rather not think of, and others simply floated in the water, still.

Then he heard an awful roar. Then a gust of wind caught him and threw him across the tattered deck. He looked up to see the most horrible thing he'd ever seen.

A wave that had to be well over 150 feet tall loomed off to starboard. When it hit the ship, it would be a nightmare that many, if not all of them, would never awake from.

He shouted below, "BRACE YOURSELVES!" He then ran to the stairs and went below with them, sparing a glance at the monstrous wave.

It was almost on top of them.

"BRACE!" He leapt into a corner, and thrust his legs out to wedge in. He shut his eyes.

And it hit.

The storm clears. A ship is spotted off the coast of Port Royal.

The ship is a horrid wreck of what it once was. The masts are gone or almost gone, with the tattered remains of the sails across the deck. The ship is swamped with water. When men from Fort Charles come aboard, there is water everywhere.

They see the gaping hole in the deck and approach it with apprehension.

Inside the hold remain perhaps a dozen men. They are huddled in a corner, braced against wreckage, corpses, and all manner of things. The water is up to their waists; many men are almost gone from intense hypothermia. Some rest on wreckage that floats in the hold.

There is one man who is trapped under wreckage not far from the others. He is breathing, though the rescuers cannot see how. The wood piles several feet above him, and his uniform and face are shredded and scarred almost beyond recognition. They know his face, though, despite the scars and horridly beaten features. They also know the shreds that remain of his coat.

James Norrington survives.

He thinks he has died. And in a way, he has.

His resolve is gone. The spark of leadership, of courage, of bravery, is gone from his sad, haunted eyes. What dwells there now is only waterlogged ashes speaking of defeat and sadness.

James Norrington of England lives, but Commodore Norrington, the most respected man in the Royal Navy, died in the hurricane.

"You are resigning your commission?"

"Yes, Governor." Weatherby Swann stared at the broken man before him. He was not the one who had departed for the Black Pearl only a few weeks prior. "I am not fit for command now, and shall not be for a long time. I failed myself and my men when I blindly pursued the Black Pearl into the storm. I should have returned here, and waited for the next time he appeared."

"Commodore, listen to me. You did nothing wrong. You had no way of knowing that Sparrow would escape the storm, nor did you know what would happen inside it. You are just a man, and no more can be expected of you."

"Sir, I saw the wave that killed the Dauntless. It was over 150 feet tall, and when it hit, we rolled and rolled like a child's toy. First upside-down, then rightside-up, and back again for an eternity. It's a miracle any survived. And it is in no part due to my efforts to chase a pirate. I am resigning my commission, Governor. I hope you forgive me."

As the broken shell of Norrington moved to leave, Swann asked, "Where will you go?"

He was silent for a long time. Then he said, "Where my heart takes me."

Swann only nodded. He'd felt much the same way when Sarah died.

FLASHBACK

"Sarah, please, hold on! Your daughter needs you." Swann bowed his head. "I need you. Please, try to hold on."

"Oh, Weatherby, I can't, and you know it." His wife smiled wanly at him.

"Oh, this is all my fault."

"No, it isn't. You had no way of knowing that the Penzance would come around and fire on us—you had them on the run." Swann was shaking his head. With surprising strength, Sarah gripped his shoulder. "You listen to me, Weatherby Swann—you did nothing wrong." She slumped back.

"Sarah, please..."

"Weatherby, it's too late. It's my time." His beautiful wife smiled at him for the last time. "Take care of Lizzie." She whispered to him, "I love you." Then she slumped back, and was gone.

END FLASHBACK

"Where my heart takes me."

"Good luck, James. May it never steer you wrong."

And James Norrington was gone with the wind.

A/N: Okay, I realize I said "Gone With the Wind". I didn't catch that until I was about to submit it. I've decided to leave it in, because it's what works. Please, tell me if this works as an explanation for James's later predicaments. REVIEW!