Again, both chapters three and four have been reloaded, and apologies for the delay.

Disclaimer: I own neither the characers nor the plotbunnies, just the execution.

Peppymint, I did end up using your suggestion, if slightly modified. (grins)

As per usual, anonymous reviews get answered in my profile.


Five ships arrived at the far side of Calavera's island at dusk, but there were six wakes behind them in the light of the rising full moon.

Norrington eyed the shore skeptically; it seemed to match the rough map, but there was no sense in being overtrusting of pirates.

"Lower the boat," he ordered, and " Groves, Jenkins, McAllister, you're with me."

"Sir?" Gillete's voice asked the question his words did not. Norrington turned from the rail where he had been watching the longboat quietly hit the water to face him.

"You're in command until we return," Norrington told him, his tone brooking no argument. "Keep the other ships here. You are to wait until my signal."

Gillette looked like he wanted to protest, or at least ask a question, but he merely nodded, and Norrington waited at the rail as the men he had named climbed down into the boat.

"'Tis bad luck to sail on the night of a full moon, mark my words," drifted a whisper on the wind. Norrington didn't even blink as he replied dryly, "And I'm certain it's far worse luck to make enemies of both the Royal Navy and a ghost ship."

Faint laughter followed him as he landed deftly in the boat and they began to row away from the ships of the Fleet.

Norrington knew that the men aboard those five ships must be wondering at his actions, especially the Dauntless's escorts, but he had chosen the scouting party deliberately. The men they had gotten the information from in Tortuga had not exactly been willing, and it was only sensible to check that they were in the right place and not sailing straight into a trap. And as for who he had chosen to make up the scouting party…, well, they had not exactly disclosed to the other ships the exact nature of some of their sources of information or aid. He had taken care to bring with him only veterans of the battle with Barbossa's crew; he did not know what they would find, and they would be least likely to balk should anything of an…unusual nature occur.

Which it did, though the thick fog that descended as they rounded the island was more than welcome. The crew of the Dauntless had become very familiar with this sort of fog over the past weeks; Norrington knew from experience that while they could still see and hear quite clearly, it would deaden sound and be quite opaque to their enemies, to the point that they would be unable to distinguish friend from foe at more than a pace or two, much less see one end of a ship from the other.

They soon came to the entrance of the bay that the island curved itself around, and Norrington smiled internally as his men obeyed without so much batting an eye as he silently gestured for them to steer the boat right past one of the two ships anchored in the mouth of the bay, even though they could clearly see and hear the pirate on watch at the rail above them stamping his feet and cursing quietly at the foul weather. His choice was proven correct as none of them bothered to wonder that no attention was paid to them or the sound of their oars until Norrington signaled them to halt as he studied the layout of the bay.

This was evidently where a pirate fleet made berth. There were five ships in all scattered around the bay, and those that he could see clearly flew a black flag with a white skull. One ship was pulled up out of the water, and he could see evidence of major ongoing hull repairs around it. Another was merely a half-burned-out hulk, listing badly in the shallow water, too charred to ever sail again and undoubtedly only there so that anything of value remaining on it could be salvaged.

But the one anchored leisurely in the middle of the bay was far more noteworthy. In the moonlight, the pale round figurehead gaped a skull's grin at him.

Norrington nodded once, slowly, and glanced at the two ships guarding the mouth of the bay. The farther one was a relatively small, dingy-looking thing; he suspected that it had been recently commandeered and pressed into service. The one they floated beside showed evidence of recent hull repairs, and when he looked up, narrowing his eyes, Norrington thought there might be suspicious darkness about some of the ropes and splotches on the mast. A silvery glint in the moonlight caught his eye, and he signaled his men to turn the boat around. The glint of silver came again, and Norrington allowed himself a hard smile as he regarded the fork still partially embedded in the wood.

"Back to the Dauntless. We send the message to attack."

The fog cloaked the five warships just as well as it had the longboat as they glided into the bay, and they easily took up the positions Norrington had ordered without the alarm being raised.

They attacked in concert, the two ships from the neighboring fort taking on the two ships on guard while the ship on loan ensured there would be no resistance from the shore, and the two under Norrington's command went straight for the flagship. The Skull, Norrington noticed in passing as they approached; ruthless Calavera might be, but he seemed to have a distinct lack of originality.

While it would have been a fitting irony for Calavera to go down with his ship the way Jack had with the Pearl, Norrington had finally decided to try to capture it. There would be no better proof that he had not been chasing shadows than to bring the ship back, telltale figurehead and all.

Not to mention that it would also avoid the possibility that the Skull might further follow the Pearl's example and return.

The other ships held less importance, and Norrington could hear the Navy guns farther out in the bay, evidently getting off at least one round of cannon each. The other ships had good captains, and he simply trusted that they would do their duty as he and his men boarded the Skull. And then there was no more time to reflect as the pirates realized they were under attack, and Norrington could only do his best amidst the chaos of a shipboard battle.

To Norrington's faint relief, these pirates stayed dead when they died. There had been no rumors of a curse on this crew, other than perhaps that of having Calavera for a leader, but he hadn't disregarded the possibility. As if to make up for it, they were tough, perhaps even more so than Barbossa's crew had been, and far tougher than the petty smugglers and bandits of Tortuga. He had no doubt that they were all hardened criminals, quite possibly escaped prisoners or deserters fled to the Caribbean to escape justice. Calavera would have chosen the best for his own crew, after all.

Norrington was just turning from having shoved a wiry pirate armed with a metal pipe overboard when he saw another pirate with a knife going for Groves' unprotected back. He tried to shout warning though he knew it wouldn't be heard over the din, tried to run even knowing he wouldn't make it in time to stop the glittering arc coming down. And then the pirate suddenly staggered, a plank that had been leaning against the cabin having suddenly fallen at the right moment to deliver a heavy blow to the side of his head. It only took him a moment to shake it off, but Norrington's sword found his throat before he could do more.

Groves, having finally fought off the pirate that he had been preoccupied with, finally turned and paled when he took in how close the man with the knife had been. "Th-thank you sir," he managed, but Norrington had glimpsed out of the corner of his eye a grin laced with gold from the shadows the plank had fallen from. There was nothing there when Norrington turned his head, of course, but the corner of his mouth tugged up in the hint of a knowing smile anyway.

"Watch your back next time," was all he said, and then they were both back in the fray.

Norrington dodged a swing aimed at his head, stomped on the hand of a pirate fumbling for a dropped knife, and suddenly found himself in a clear space before the doors of the cabin.

The doors swung open, and it wasn't hard to figure out that the man wearing a long red coat and a hat with a white skull sewn on it had to be Calavera.

He was a large man, both taller and broader than Norrington himself, with black hair and beard and a wide face that broke into an ugly grin at seeing the Commodore. Norrington was wearily unsurprised to see that the oversized pistol the pirate held had skulls on it too. Unfortunately, Calavera evidently had more competence than originality or taste, and the firearm appeared to be in excellent condition, ready to fire, and aimed squarely at him.

Even if Norrington had had a firearm of his own, he would not have been able to draw it before the pirate pulled the trigger. With only a sword, and the pirate out of his range while he himself was most certainly not out of Calavera's…

The pirate's finger was tightening on the trigger, and Norrington tensed. He knew he would not be able to dodge in time, not at this range, but there was a trick he'd seen William Turner do before–

Calavera's eyes widened, staring past Norrington's shoulder for a moment, jaw slackening in surprise for a single moment–

Norrington's sword buried itself in Calavera's heart.

There might have been some sort of phantom murmur from over his shoulder about an opportune moment, but all of Norrington's attention was on the would-be pirate admiral. Calavera opened his mouth as if to speak, but no sound emerged. The skull-embellished pistol slipped from the black-haired pirate's fingers, clattering to the deck but mercifully not going off.

Norrington's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword and he wrenched it free. A darker stain spread on the red coat, and Calavera crumpled to the deck as though it had been the only thing holding him up.

When the Commodore looked up from checking that the large man was indeed dead, the fog was melting away as though it had never been, and in moments the full moon shone down on a completely clear night.

Those of Calavera's crew remaining howled at seeing their captain dead, attacking even more fiercely if anything, but figures on the ships out in the bay and the few on the shore were raising their hands in surrender to other figures in uniform. Norrington frowned, wondering why, when motion from above caught his eye and he couldn't help but chuckle.

Calavera's skull flag was gone, and the Union Jack flew proudly from the pirate ship's mast.

Despite their renewed fury, the remaining pirates aboard Calavera's former flagship were few, and already obviously no match for the crews of two Royal Navy ships, so Norrington remained where he was. "Thank you," he said to thin air. "I assume you'll make sure he won't return." There was no answer, but he hadn't expected one. He watched the ships out in the bay and by the shore make short work of securing their prisoners and his own men finish killing or capturing the pirates aboard the ship he stood upon before he spoke again.

"You'll want to see this through to the end, no doubt."

There was only silence, but Norrington was quite good at distinguishing silences by now, and he smiled as he walked away to help direct the cleanup.

The night was clear and empty as they sailed back, and there were equal nmber of wakes and ships.

- - - - -

It struck certain parties among the spectators as a fitting irony that the last of the pirates responsible for the destruction of the Black Pearl were being led to the same gallows that had come so close to claiming its master. But there would be no sword or waiting ship, no swashbuckling reprieve for them.

Elizabeth and Will Turner stood straight and still beside Commodore James Norrington on the same battlements that had witnessed so many of the pivotal moments in their lives, expressions set and gazes holding no sympathy for the condemned men.

The setting sun touched the water, and the trapdoor dropped. None of them flinched.

Elizabeth did not close her eyes and sigh until it was all completely over, hand steady in her husband's.

"It's done, then," she said quietly, opening her eyes again and looking over with a sad smile to where the battered leather hat sat on the same stone wall that Sparrow had 'tripped' over on that memorable day. It had seemed fitting.

"I believe so." Norrington's bearing was no less proper than ever, but it was as thought a tension had gone out of him, or a weight had been lifted. Indeed, the entire atmosphere seemed to have lightened despite the men moving to take the bodies away.

A breeze picked up, swirling a few bits of straw, catching them up in a low whirlwind that meandered in a erratic circle around the gallows. And then it strengthened to a howling gust that swept across the top of the battlements, sending men clutching at their wigs and women at their skirts to prevent them from being blown away.

But it did no more than caress a few locks of Elizabeth's hair, ruffling the blacksmith's sleeve and brushing the Commodore's shoulder in passing.

And yet it picked the old leather hat up bodily, whirling it up into the air before bearing it over the battlements to disappear into the setting sun on the horizon, a faint echo of laughter ringing in memory.

The wind stilled as though it had never been, and a corner of Will's mouth quirked in a slight wry smile. "Do you suppose he's finally at rest, then?" he asked.

Norrington shook his head ever so slightly, gazing at the sunset. "I don't think that one ever could be at rest," he said dryly. "But I do think he's moved on, for what that's worth."

The Turners smiled, and nodded, for nothing else needed to be said. Their business finished, they all turned to go their separate ways. And so none of them heard Norrington mutter under his breath, "I had better get to keep the Dauntless when I go, or there'll be no standing him."

Far off in the sunset, laughter echoed in the wind.

Drink up, me hearties, yo ho!


So. It's done.
All the major events I planned are in here. The plotbunnies may or may not decide to elaborate on some of them, but the basic happenings will not change.
The very last scene, however, will not be changed. That one is exactly how I wanted it and has been complete since chapter two was still being written.
I hope that these chapters live up to the first two. If you want more details...well, you're welcome to poke the plotbunnies.

If you liked this and haven't read Rennie1265's ''A Spirit From the Vasty Deep" (storyID 2620900), then get out of here and go do so!
Not only is it much, much better, you'll probably notice the line that inspired this in the first place...