AN: I've seen it! Yippee! Muchos excitement in my corner of the UK. I'm working on a theory to weave some Scruffington into this fic, because, frankly, he's so hot it's untrue. Anyway, moving on, this chapter is one of my favourites (does that sound ridiculously big-headed? I'm sorry…), and it seems some of my reviewers are psychic, having predicted what action Norrington wisely takes in this chapter. Ah, meloves…dd xx

24

Thus it was that, at three in the afternoon, Commodore James Norrington found himself in a dingy, smoky corner of the Goose public house, feeling the rancid beer curdling in his stomach, and watching disdainfully as several young men of good birth and low breeding drank themselves stupid.

He was pleased with himself, that he had learnt so much about their dalliances and unsavoury excesses, but yet revealed so little about himself.

'So…and yourself, my good man,' slurred one such young man, who Norrington gathered was called Samuel White, 'any girls in your life at the present time?'

'Na, 'course not, you fool!' another shouted raucously. 'He's navy, he don't go for the girls, does he?' he slapped Norrington smartly on the back. 'All ruddy sodomites on them ships, ain't they?'

Norrington, his composure and dignity intact, wondered where the man, who was dressed in fine material, had learnt such villainous English.

'Must 'pologise for my friends' behaviour, James,' Armitage said indistinctly, not sounding remotely repentant. 'Lads, the good Commodore isn't a degenerate like that! Oh, no…had a bit o' bad luck with the ladies recently, isn't that so, sir?'

'Not at all, gentlemen…simply a vicious rumour,' he said mildly and sipped at the awful beverage.

'Come, sir!' Armitage said, patting him on the back in a violent sign of comradeship, which made Norrington spill his beer onto the already sticky table. 'A true saga of love, passion and romance on the high seas, I do believe.'

'And pirates,' added the Commodore acidly.

'And pirates,' agreed White. 'It were that Miss Swann, 'm I right? Bet she'd look good in one of them coats the pirates wear!'

'And nothing else!' agreed another man lecherously.

Norrington sighed quietly. It was going to be a long afternoon.

'So,' Armitage growled in his ear some hours later, the stench of stale beer on his breath making Norrington feel quite unwell, 'if Miss Lizzy Swann is…let us say…off the agenda…do you have your roving eye on any of our fair Port Royal maidens, Commodore?'

The Commodore declined to point out that he could hardly use the possessive 'our' in conjunction with Port Royal, having barely resided there six months, and gave a short, non-committal answer.

'Goody, goody, as long as you haven't got designs on my Lissy Groves,' Armitage continued drunkenly, unaware of Norrington's pale, anxious visage. 'I call her Lissy 'cause it sounds more familiar, like…I'm sure that Turner bloke does the same for that Swann girl when he's a-wooing.'

Norrington sat in silence and decided to let the man talk himself to his death.

'Shouldn't half see her blush! Thinks her brother will throw me out the house if I'm not proper and all that…as though he cares, too busy strutting around that ruddy plantation with his thumbs in his swanky waistcoat to notice his little sister. Not that I blame our Mister Groves, mind you…I mean, between you and me, Jimmy lad, she's nothing to look at, is she? Nice dresses and all that…but when you compare her to…I don't know…some of these local lasses…got no colour in her cheeks, has she? And so thin, too…nothing for a man to hang on to, eh?'

The Commodore focussed on breathing rhythmically, and repressed his urge to disagree physically with the rascal.

'Guess a man could put up with all that, though, couldn't they, my good man?'

'I fail to comprehend your meaning, sir,' Norrington hissed through gritted teeth.

'She's got what matters, hasn't she, Commodore? Got the stuff…' he rubbed his fingers together greedily. 'Once I'm living in a house twice the size of the dump I live in now…what can she say if I take me on a little excursion to the town…to Tortuga, say? Not likely to kick up a fuss, a little waif like that…wouldn't be surprised to see her down those cat-houses, anyway…it's always the quiet ones, I say…have you seen the way she pushes herself at that Gillette? And then the little minx has the nerve to blush and coo like a little girl when I'm all sweet to her…'

Norrington drained his beer composedly, and threw a gold piece onto the table.

'Are you busy tomorrow afternoon, sir?' he asked lightly.

'No…same again, eh?'

'I had wondered,' Norrington paused in mock thought, 'if you might like to fight me?' he leaned back contentedly and watched the colour drain out of Armitage's red face.

'Are you calling me out, Commodore?' he asked in disbelief, some of the drunken slur fading from his scared voice.

'I am,' replied the other gravely.

'You jest, surely?' Armitage asked desperately, as the other inebriated men began to wake up and take notice of the turn of events.

'Not at all, sir, I assure you. I expect to see you in the fort courtyard at three tomorrow, armed with your sword.' He rose to leave, satisfied with the fear and confusion on Armitage's face.

'Why, Commodore? You do not duel simply as entertainment, I trust?'

'Never,' Norrington said menacingly, his officer façade slipping smoothly into place. 'I duel to protect the honour of the woman I love, and to relieve her of an inferior suitor. Good day, gentlemen.' He placed his hat on his head and left the Goose, relishing the fresh sea air in contrast to the muggy interior of the pub.

As he had predicted, Armitage followed him, stumbling slightly, and blinking in the bright sunshine.

'But Commodore…you said…' he was almost on his knees before the fearsome naval commander.

'I know what I said, Mr Armitage,' was the curt reply. 'You can hardly have expected me to impart my secrets and emotions to a bunch of bigoted louts, can you?'

'But…I cannot fight you…' the younger man said desperately, the ramifications of his hasty words circling in his wine-soaked mind.

'Oh?' Norrington raised a supercilious eyebrow, conscious that he was enjoying the exchange a little more than was proper. 'A coward as well as a shameless philanderer, are you?' he turned to walk away again, certain he had elicited the desired response.

'You call me coward, sir? You, who backed down to a blacksmith?' Armitage shouted, incensed, at his retreating back. 'Very well, sir, I shall fight you, and I shall dance with Alicia Groves as you are dying…I don't care if you are Commodore of this entire fleet, for you cannot frighten me!'

Norrington continued walking steadily, feeling the breeze ripple his coat, and smiled to himself as he heard the terrified young man behind him shouting empty, foolish threats.

AN: so…the action keeps piling on. Ish. If you've enjoyed, do drop me a line (also with criticisms and so on) and come back soon to see the duel take place. Yum yum. dd xx