Chapter Three: "My Deep, Dark Secret"

While the two hottest guys in the movie were leaving Jack's pub, Norrington found himself in deep water. Literally.

The Jackson Michael had sprung a leak somewhere or another, sunk to the bottom of the ocean before our poor Commodore could do anything about it, and left him doggy paddling about the waves.

"Splendid!" he remarked. "How am I supposed to rescue Elizabeth if I don't have a ship?"

"Commodore Norrington! Sir!" someone shouted over the roar of the splashing ocean waters. Suddenly, Norrington was encompassed in a long shadow, and, craning his neck back, found himself face to face with the Dauntless.

"What in the name of Great Britain—"

Gillette peered down from the upper deck, waving excitedly. "Sir! I thought you might need a hand of sorts!"

Norrington watched in horror as the ship continued to lurch closer as he floated defenselessly. "Gillette! I think you might need a brain! STOP!"

"Oh, my apologies, sir!" With that, Gillette swung the ship sidewise, narrowly missing the Commodore but successfully dousing him with an immense wave that left his hat soggy and reeking of dead fish.

In a few moments, Gillette had pulled Norrington out of the ocean by a lifeboat. Beaming at the sight of the Commodore, he grinned,

"Out to save Elizabeth, eh? Right here to help you, sir!"

Norrington, ringing out his crumpled hat, retorted through clenched teeth, "Gillette, I am the Commodore. And as such it is purely my responsibility to rescue Elizabeth."

"But sir—"

"Gillette, how am I supposed to impress Elizabeth and win her over if I bring the entire Royal Navy with me?"

"It would be like a parade, sir!"

Norrington remembered the clowns and shuddered (that has absolutely nothing to do with the story, so don't worry about it).

"And sir, we go together like peas in a pod!" Gillette continued enthusiastically. "Like acne and teenagers! Like Vanna White and that other guy on Wheel of Fortune!"

Norrington stared at him, horrified, imagining what Gillette would look like in a sparkling gown revealing letters to puzzles.

"I never liked sequins much myself, sir, but you get the general idea," grinned Gillette. "Now, onward to save Elizabeth!"

"Gillette!" snapped Norrington. "Listen to me, and listen very, very, closely. We are not buddy-buddy, do you understand? You are here primarily to play a modest supporting role in my heroic endeavors, and nothing more. I will put up with you because, as of right now, the Jackson Michael has sunk to the bottom of the ocean."

"Really?" asked Gillette. "I thought he was on trial."

"Really? I thought he was on a trial."

Barbossa, slouched on straw and locked behind bars in the jail house, waited for an answer from Governor Swann.

"No," the Governor replied, pursing his lips. "We let Jack Sparrow off the hook. Well, technically, off the noose."

"How very generous of you, Governor," Barbossa grinned a crooked-toothed smile, tugging anxiously at his shirt collar.

Governor Swann eyed him suspiciously. "But enough about Jack. You still haven't given me an explanation for that cake fiasco. And what happened to my daughter." He blinked. "And why you're not dead."

"You sound more confused than normal, Governor."

"You look uglier than normal. Start talking, Barbossa."

The pirate didn't budge.

"Fine. You leave me no choice." Governor Swann drew from a bag in the corner of the room a green apple.

"What are you…?"

Governor Swann drew his hand back and whipped the apple at the stone wall, where it splattered into mush.

"NOOOO!" shouted Barbossa. "Not the apples!"

Ignoring the pirate's pleas, Governor Swann continued to mash the apples into unrecognizable slush, leaping insanely around the room and stomping on them, earning concerned looks from the guards.

"Fine!" gasped Barbossa. "Fine! I'll talk! I'll talk! Just leave the apples out of this!"

Wiping applesauce from his boots, the Governor settled down to listen. "Go on."

"I did intend to kidnap Elizabeth, I did," he began. "But then everything went terribly wrong."

"The cake batter?" guessed the Governor.

"Aye. I couldn't resist just a smidgen of a taste. I leaned over the gigantic bowl of batter, when some idiot threw open the kitchen door, ranting and raving about lemon meringue pie. The door hit me in the back and I tumbled into the batter, and the next thing I knew I was being wheeled off to the oven. Don't your cooks check their batter for sanitary reasons?"

"They will now. I just got them washing their hands last Thursday."

"So there I be, cooked in a cake, a foul condemnation disproportionate to my crimes," Barbossa continued. "After being iced, the cooks took me up to Elizabeth's room to keep her company on the day before her wedding. But that night…" He paused, a brilliant idea donning on him. After all, who would know if he rearranged reality just a bit?

"Yes, yes, but that night?" prompted Governor Swann, picking up another apple, threateningly.

"But that night, another returned to confess his love for her!"

"Another?"

"Yes," said Barbossa gravely. "Jack Sparrow."

"Gasp!" gasped the Governor.

"Yes, Jack Sparrow," continued Barbossa, dramatically. "He tried to get Elizabeth to run off with him, but she refused."

"I knew I raised her right!"

"But Jack Sparrow didn't care, Governor, so he kidnapped her, accusing this fictional Maggascotchi person so that no one would assume he was the guilty party."

"Wait, wait, wait," the Governor interrupted. "I thought you told me that Maggascotchi was a real person, and she was working with Jack."

"Aye, aye I did," nodded Barbossa, trying not to start blubbering. "But you see, Governor, I had to. Had I told everyone the truth, it would have caused uncontrollable panic. Tis best that only you and I know."

"Smart thinking, Barbossa," commended Governor Swann, nodding. "But now what do you propose we do? You know the situation best."

Barbossa paused. "There's only one thing we can do."

"Start a fundraiser with all this applesauce?"

"No, Governor. Sail out in search of Jack Sparrow." He smirked. "And I know exactly where he be."

Meanwhile, back in the Blacksmith Shop, the donkey found himself ready to leave as well. After the absence of Will and the continuous snoring of the somnolent Mr. Brown, he—yes, he refers to the donkey—found a sheet of paper and wrote out the following:

MR. BROWN:

I HAVE WORKED HERE FOR THE WHOLE TWO YEARS OF MY LIFE. I AM SICK AND TIRED OF BEING TIED TO THIS JOB AND GETTING NO RESPECT. PLUS NO ONE HAS FED ME IN THE PAST TWO DAYS AND I WANT MY HORSE FEED. SO I HAVE GONE OUT IN SEARCH OF THE ONE AND ONLY PERSON WHO APPRECIATES ME.

It was only after the disgruntled donkey trotted out in search of Will that Barbossa and the Governor entered the Blacksmith Shop.

"Wait a minute, Governor. I still don't understand what we be doin' 'ere. Your Commodore discreetly said to not tell Will of Elizabeth's disappearance."

"Yes, but maybe this will be enough to finally end his friendly relations with Jack Sparrow. After all, he can't like the guy if he ran off with his fiancée."

"Depends. Does he get lemon meringue pie in the trade?" mused the pirate, glancing around the shop.

"No," said Governor Swann. He, too, looked around the empty room.

"Where be the lad?" asked Barbossa.

Suddenly, a deafening snore erupted from a corner of the shop.

Glancing nervously at Barbossa, the Governor crept over to where the noise continued to come from. Sighing, finding the cause of their panic, he looked back to Barbossa, saying,

"It's only Mr. Brown, the blacksmith. He's asleep."

"And drunk," Barbossa commented, gesturing to the empty bottle of rum on the dirt floor.

"Yes," Governor Swann noted half-consciously, treading over to a small table. "Look at this," he mumbled.

Barbossa walked over to where the Governor stood, holding a piece of paper between his fingers.

"What does it say?" the pirate asked, observing the scratchy handwriting.

"It reads: Mr. Brown: I have worked here for the two whole years of my life."

Governor Swann paused, raising an eyebrow. He continued on, "I am sick and tired of being tied to this job and getting no respect. Plus, no one has fed me in the past two days and I want my horse feed."

"He just had lemon meringue yesterday…" cut-in Barbossa.

"…Horse feed…?" the even more confused than normal Governor asked aloud. He shook his head. "So, I have gone out in search of the one and only person who appreciates me."

"Who appreciates Will?" Barbossa questioned, grabbing the paper and looking it over for himself.

"I don't think anyone does," the other man answered. He snapped back out of his confused state, saying, "That's all that was written. No name, or anything."

"But Will, he wrote this, right?"

"I assume so," Governor Swann replied. "Look!" he cried theatrically, pointing to the other end of the room.

"Wha'?" asked the pirate, dropping the note back on the table.

"The donkey!"

"Wha' donkey?" Barbossa said, looking about the shop for a donkey.

"The donkey!"

"WHA' DONKEY! I DON'T SEE A DONKEY!"

"EXACTLY!" shouted the Governor.

"WHA'?"

"A DONKEY'S SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!" exclaimed the Governor.

Barbossa stared blankly at him.

"There used to be a donkey in here—he used to power these two wheels and make them turn!" He pointed to the giant wheels.

"And…?"

"He's GONE!" Governor Swann exasperated.

"Wha' are ya suggestin' 'ere?" Barbossa eyed the Governor.

"What if Will rode the donkey out of this shop and went out in search of the person who most appreciates him—like the note said—so that that person could come to the wedding!" The Governor threw up his hands as if pointing out the obvious.

"But who appreciates 'im the most?" asked Barbossa, scratching at his beard.

"Who appreciates him at all?"

They both stared out in space, thinking. The theme song for Jeopardy started playing out from nowhere.

"Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo. Doo doo doo doo doo! Doodoodoodoodoo, doo doo doo doo—"

"Cut the music!" Governor Swann shouted. The music stopped. (Sorry, had to get that in…I love that song!)

"Wha' say we forget 'bout Will—wha' does it matter?" said Barbossa. "If 'e's not 'ere, then that's one less person we 'ave te worry 'bout."

The Governor looked horrified. "We have to worry about him! He's about to become

my son-in-law!"

"Correction: Jack Sparrow is about to become your son-in-law."

"Well, at least it's not Norrington," sighed the Governor, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Wha'?"

The Governor became oddly quiet, suddenly fascinated with the donkey dung littered across the floor.

"Ah, nothing."

"Now, Governor, I swear on my honor that I will do everything in me power to rescue your daughter, bring Jack Sparrow to justice, and make sure that this wedding 'appens. The least you could do is let me in on what be the trouble."

Governor Swann sighed, rubbing his temples. "You see, Barbossa, I have a deep, dark secret."

"Oooh. Sounds interesting. Very interesting."

"And this deep, dark secret has been locked away deep inside me in a dark place where I thought I could hide it from my family, the Navy, and even all of Britain."

"Oooh. Continue, Governor."

"But now I fear that this deep, dark secret has become too deep and too dark for me to hide any longer, and if I do not expose it, I fear that shame and tragedy will befall the Swann family."

"This sounds like a Gothic novel."

"Barbossa, can I trust you with this deep, dark secret?"

"Wha's not to trust?"

The Governor paused (this is purely for effect, you know). "Fine. I'll tell you my deep, dark secret… But only after this commercial break."

"Wha's a commercial?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I just blurt out the most ridiculous things. Anyway… What was I saying?"

"You were about to tell me your deep, dark secret."

"Oh yes," the Governor said, becoming very grave once again. "My deep, dark secret. You see, Barbossa, before I ever met Elizabeth's mother, I was in love with this beautiful woman."

"Oooh, drama."

"And she was in love with me—"

Barbossa pouted. "Oh, that's no fun."

"Yes, except I could never marry her. My family absolutely forbid it. Here I was, heir to Port Royal, and there she was, a…a…"

"Out with it, man!"

"A blacksmith."

"Oooh! Very interesting!"

"And so, to prevent the marriage and save us from eloping, they exiled her and her family to another island and forbid them to ever return."

"This sounds like something from Shrek."

"Yes, except I am not an ogre."

"Close, though. Except for the wig."

"My parents arranged another marriage, this one to a rich woman who would eventually become Elizabeth's mother. After she passed away, I had the urge to reconnect with my old flame. It was only then that I discovered…"

"Discovered what?"

"My deep, dark secret."

"For the love of Bootstrap Bill, what is your deep, dark secret?"

"Not what, Barbossa, who."

"Wha'?"

"It turns out, Barbossa, that I have two sons. Two very special sons."

"Special? Well, of course, they be your sons!"

"Uh, their 'special' is even more special on account of the, uh, situation."

"Situation, Governor?"

"You see, Barbossa, my sons were born as Siamese twins."

"Siamese twins?" Barbossa repeated. "Where are they? Have you met them?"

"Oh, I have met them."

Barbossa paused. "Well, I assume it would be fairly simple to have met them. I mean, it's not every day that Siamese twins are strolling the docks."

"Aha," nodded the Governor, "but I was deceived for quite some time. They were both separated at birth, both physically and then given to separate adoptive parents. My old flame didn't even know what had become of them, and I had to track them down on my own."

"But you found them, you said. Have they amounted to anything?"

"They've done…quite well. They are a part of the Royal Navy."

"If I weren't a pirate, I'd congratulate you," smirked Barbossa. "Perhaps I've been shot at by one of 'im. What be the bouncing baby boys' names, then, Governor?"

Governor Swann closed his eyes and then said, "Norrington and Gillette."