Chapter 16: 1740 - About Marriage and Curiosity


After hurrying out of the captain's quarters and slamming the door furiously behind her, Elizabeth didn't know what to do with herself for a moment. She got over her first impulse to go back and throw the rum bottle at Jack Sparrow and decided to neither waste the bottle nor the rum.

Leaning against the rail, she took a deep swig of the brew she actually detested and finally stared into the waves, desperately tried to sort her racing thoughts.

She knew she should be thinking about Will. In fact, she actually wanted to think about Will. And yet her thoughts kept wandering back to the man who dozed in his berth behind the door she had just slammed shut.

And the rum was of no help either.

All the contrary: The more sips she took, the more clearly Jack Sparrow's handsome face seemed to manifest before her inner eye.

Only a well-known voice behind her managed to pull her out of this maelstrom of images and thoughts: "It's a curious thing. There was a time when I would've given anything for you to look like that while thinking about me."

Norrington leaned back against the rail beside her and eyed her carefully. His gaze confused her, for there was something slightly mocking about it alongside the still-present admiration he felt for her.

It was undeniable: James Norrington had changed since he went hunting for the "Black Pearl" and her captain. And this not only applied to the fact that the futile search for Jack Sparrow, the loss of the "Dauntless" and his disappearance had demanded more from him than his entire career in previous years.

He seemed to have changed as a person, too, and as he stood beside her at that moment, he seemed to Elizabeth for the first time more of a man and less of the dutiful soldier she had come to know as a little girl. Or maybe it was just the rum that made her look at him with different eyes - or that brazenly unabashed pirate who seemed so extraordinarily accurate when it came to reading her mind and anticipating her most cherished desires.

Whatever it was, James Norrington had changed, and she had to admit to herself that without the wig, without the uniform, and with his now tanned face, he was much more the type of man she thought she preferred. The type of man she thought she recognised from the adventure stories she'd read by the dozen...

Eventually she remembered that she still owed him an answer, and she thought she was honest when she replied: "I don't know what you mean."

Norrington grinned, and he let his gaze wander from her to Jack's cabin and back: "Oh, I think you do."

Elizabeth became aware of what he meant and in a way she felt caught. So, she protested, perhaps a little more violently than necessary: "Oh, don't be absurd. I trust him, that's all."

"So you trust him. Well, that's really something I haven't been able to fathom until now. Why everyone eventually starts to trust this man. He has Groves and these two garrison soldiers, Mullroy and Murtogg, almost wrapped around his finger with his adventure stories. And as I see, he had just as much success with you. But haven't you ever wondered how your latest fiancé ended up on board the 'Flying Dutchman' in the first place...?"


Alone in his quarters, Jack was unaware of Elizabeth's struggle with herself. He'd fallen asleep shortly after she'd left the cabin, hand with the open compass on the pillows close to his cheek.

After Elizabeth had been able to get them a course with the help of the valuable little box, he had hoped he too would be able to get answers to his questions again - but to no avail.

Only after he fell asleep, did the needle begin to move. After a full turn or two, it finally stopped and pointed to the empty space by his side having once belonged to the woman he loved...:

She stood on the edge of the cliffs, motionless, gazing out to sea as the sun set in glorious colours far out on the horizon. A cold breeze blew in from the open sea, tugging at her crimson headscarf and making her shiver, but she made no move to return to the little cottage standing only a few paces away from her where a seat by the heated fireplace would be waiting for her.

He knew where to look for her and he smiled when he saw her standing there: She would always be his beautiful pirate lass, no matter if she would be at the helm of his ship or braving the strong gusts of wind on the cliffs.

Tried not to let her know he'd found her, he tiptoed quietly across the moss-covered path and wrapped his arms around her from behind. Nestling his cheek against hers, he whispered: "What do you see out there, love?"

She leaned back against him and snuggled her cheek tenderly against his: "The same as you, Jack Sparrow. The dream we share. Our dream of freedom..."

Her voice had a strangely melancholy undertone, and he realised this moment wasn't real. Therefore, he pulled her all the tighter, untied her headscarf and pressed his lips to her hair. Not wanting this moment to pass, he closed his eyes, hoping it was more than an illusion, but there was no denying the bitter truth: "This is just a dream, isn't it?"

"It is, but at least it's a beautiful dream, because in this dream you are with me..."

"Tell me, love, where can I find you? If you can tell me, I can find you and when I've found you we're no longer in need of dreams..."

She turned to face him, still snuggled up against him, and looked into his eyes as she whispered: "I wish I knew. I wish, I could tell you at least something, but there's nothing here, Jack! Nothing but an endless white desert, hard-baked white sand and a blazing sun burning down mercilessly on everything."

He rested his cheek against her temple and wished he could hold her tighter. There was nothing he craved as much as her closeness and warmth. And yet, even if he only dreamed of holding her in his arms, her closeness in this dream gave him more than he dared to expect: Hope!

"They lied to me, Caith. They told me you were lost to me forever. Because they play a perfidious game of scorned love and revenge, staking the luck and hopes of those who have found true love."

He grabbed her by her shoulders and looked straight into her face: "I know now where to look for you, Caithleen Stevens, and I know that I will find you there, even if I never wanted to return to this place." He hesitated, but then added: "You know, love, I'm afraid of it. Of that place. Of this decision, I'll have to make to find you. I'm more afraid of it than I am of death! But if our freedom is the price I can get for us - how dare I not...?"

When he woke up, a crimson headscarf was wrapped around his wrist, and if he believed the compass on the pillow next to him, he still didn't seem to know what it was he wanted most...


It was still early in the morning, but Jack couldn't sleep any longer. His dreams grew more and more vivid as they drew closer to their heading, Isla Cruces, and since he knew he wouldn't go back to sleep anyway, he decided he might as well relieve Cotton at the helm.

When he came on deck, a new bottle of rum in hand, after Elizabeth had taken the other with her when she rushed out of his cabin the afternoon before, the first thing he noticed was the change in the air. Although the island could not yet be seen, there was already a scent of land in the air, and he knew they would reach Isla Cruces in one, the longest two hours. Time to think about what he would do, would he really find a chest with a beating heart inside...

He neither had time to think about a still-beating heart in a chest nor about relieving Cotton at the helm, because on the steps leading to the quarterdeck sat Elizabeth Swann - huddled, tipsy, and visibly unhappy - and she looked as if she had spent the whole night sitting there on the steps.

On her knees was still the bottle of rum she had swiped from his cabin, and since she didn't respond to his presence, Jack asked: "How long have you been here, love? Not since yesterday afternoon, eh?"

She gazed at him briefly, but immediately averted her gaze when she recognised him, and so he added: "My tremendous intuitive sense of the female creature informs me that you are troubled. So, what is it, Lizzie. Let it out, it's just me, Jack..."

He wasn't quite sure if her answer was really for him, but it told him a few things: "I just thought I'd be married by now. I'm so ready to be married."

She sighed deeply, and it was obvious that the thought of not being Misses Turner yet really tormented her: "Everything was prepared! It should have been a cheerful, happy wedding. And I should have moved into my own lovely little cottage together with the man I love. And I would have loved to have a...

"...to have a nice little wedding night in it together with the man you love, right?"

She didn't even blush: "Hm..."

"Take this, love, and have another sip! I think you need it more than me."

Jack handed her his bottle and she took another deep sip before telling him: "Do you know how it feels to be ready for a new life? Not just ready, but ready beyond being ready? And then, within an hour, the dream you've been dreaming for so long shatters. Just because that bloody, smug, arrogant git shows up in Port Royal on your wedding day of all days, to whom I now owe the fact that I'm in the middle of another totally harebrained adventure. And of course it's you of all people I have to be in this totally harebrained adventure with, instead of the man I love! This Lord Cutler Beckett betrayed me of everything! My husband, my wedding and my wedding night..."

Jack sat down next to her on the stairs and wiped away a lone tear rolling down her cheek. Once that was done, he cleared his throat and remarked: "You know, Lizzie, I am captain of a ship. And being captain of a ship, I could in fact perform a marriage. Right here. Right on this deck. Right now!"

He looked at her: Serious, sincere and without ulterior motives, although he wasn't sure himself if he actually meant what he said.

Elizabeth made that decision for him: "No, thank you."

She got up and walked over to the rail, but Jack wasn't in the mood to give up just yet: "Why not? We are very much alike, you and I. I and you. Us."

"Oh yes," she scoffed, "Except for a sense of honour, and decency and ... and a moral centre. And personal hygiene."

The last argument almost made him laugh, but Jack managed to suppress that impulse. Instead he replied: "Trifles. You will come over to my side. You may not know it, yet, but I do."

"You seem very certain."

"One word love: curiosity." Elizabeth internally rolled her eyes and wanted to leave, but he held her back: "Before you go, just listen to me one more time, love! I know you long for freedom. I know you long for to do what you want to do because you want it. To act on selfish impulse. That is what you really want! Just or precisely because you grew up well protected in the golden cage in which your father kept you to protect you from all the adversities of life after the death of your mother. He read your every wish from your eyes without fulfilling the one wish you longed for the most: Freedom! Instead, you've been stuck in the governor's palace, laced up in a corset, and destined to someday have an arranged marriage. Until the day I, Barbossa and his crew stumbled into your life. Outlaws, pirates, wild creatures, you should fear and avoid. Until you realised that we are free and you are not! Until you found that you could enjoy a life where you would be allowed to wear pants, learn to shoot, and learn to fence. A life where you could feel the sun on your face and the salt on your lips without caring about the classy pallor that is expected of girls like you! Come on, Lizzie, admit it. You want freedom. You want to see what it's like. And one day, you won't be able to resist."

More or less stunned that Jack seemed to know her better than she knew herself, Elizabeth wrestled with herself to answer, and yet all she asked was: "Is this the reason why your compass doesn't work...?"

Jack dodged that question, knowing full well that he didn't really have an answer to that: "Uh my compass works fine! Mostly!"

"How's that? Because you and I are alike, and there will come a moment when you have a chance to show it? To do the right thing?"

"No love," Jack shook his head: "Although, I love those moments. Waving at them as they pass by."

"So, you don't long for being a respectable man, for being proud of having done something selfless? Realizing that you're a good man?"

"Is that what you want me to be? A good man? Then there is all evidence to the contrary!" He smiled and added: "Do you really believe these are the only things making a man a good man? If I were you, this wouldn't be enough for me..."

"I have faith in you, Jack. Want to know why?"

"Do tell, dearie."

"Curiosity. You're going to want it. A chance to be admired. And gain the rewards that follow. You won't be able to resist. You're going to want to know... what it tastes like."

Elizabeth knew how to entice him and she didn't hesitate.

Even when she realised that she was about to throw her feelings for Will overboard...

Even when she realised that she was trying to get Jack to give up his feelings for the woman he loved...

There was longing in Jack's eyes while their lips drew closer with each new word. Longing for something he missed so much that at times he was on the verge of choking on this longing. He no longer had to prove that he was a good man. The one who mattered had always known, and yet: "I do want to know what it tastes like..."

"But seeing as you're a good man I know you will never put me in a position that would compromise my honour..."

Jack barely heard what she said. He fought his innermost desire to taste the forbidden fruit Elizabeth was about to offer him at that moment. But he also knew he would neither forgive himself for taking advantage of her drunken state, nor for cheating on the boy he considered a friend. And yet, he longed to give in to her and his desire, but just as he was about to gently brush her hair from her face, the sight of his hand struck him like a bolt from the blue:

The three days of delay Davy Jones had granted him were up, and the black spot was spreading again like a nasty blain on his palm...

At the same moment, he heard Marty's call from the crow's nest "Land ho!" and he quickly wrapped his palm in the crimson headscarf he had found on his wrist earlier that morning, leaving Elizabeth where she stood...