A/N Just a reminder that these are unbetta'd, so feel free to let me know of any mistakes that need fixed. Ginnis and Palmer are just a couple of poor saps that I made up.

Curse of the Black Pearl Part 4 - Powow

After the first lieutenant vanished below, activity on the deck of Dauntless resumed. The massive ship was stopped in the mouth of the bay with both anchors dropped. Norrington was seething. Other than the stiffness in his movement and the stone-like set of his face it wasn't visible, not until he spoke, but it was enough to have the entire staff of officers skirting far around the quarter deck. It was only two lieutenants and a small handful of midshipman, and that was fortunate because it kept the skittishness from being obvious to the crew (which only consisted of the twelve sailors that had been aboard Interceptor and the men who had been in the longboat with Gillette and a small handful that had attempted to take back their prized ship.

On their own, the crew continued their task of cleaning up the mess spread out upon the deck. Half of them were taken from that to either repair or replace the rudder chain. At first there was a suggestion to simply use leather to take the place of the links that had been broken, but it would only snap again from strain after sea salt dried it out. With that in mind, and the time that they now forcibly had, it made more sense to simply redo the entire thing. It wouldn't take more than an hour or two to rerun a chain or rope and the old one would be put to use elsewhere. Short as that fix is though; they still couldn't leave once it was done.

Dauntless hadn't been prepared for departure. The entire rest of the massive crew needed to be brought aboard, the Marine detachment needed to be brought on and quarters needed to be provided for them. The hold needed to be filled with enough supplies for all of these men. Considering the short distance between islands in the Caribbean corners could be cut, but, not by much. Until all of this happened, there was very little for the officers do to. It did not take four lieutenants to micromanage experienced sailors, it didn't take ten midshipmen to do that either, loading of the ship was largely the boatswain and his mate's job to supervise.

While the activity buzzed around, the first-rate continued to block the mouth of the harbor. She could not be safely moved until the repairs were completed, and so sat, gently rocked with each swell. Even though the few men aboard couldn't see those back on shore, the sailors imagined they were laughing, they couldn't even bring themselves to face towards the fort. Eventually the same rescued longboat was lowered again over the side, it had two men to row and carried a senior midshipman who himself hugged a messenger bag to his chest. Inside was a tersely written letter offering short explanation and an order for the ship's full complement of sailors and marines to immediately report to the docks. It also ordered that those stores which could be collected were to be loaded with the men. Anything which they were short of would be requisitioned upon reach of the next outpost or fort.

While those matters were being seen to, the second lieutenant crept his way through the belly of the ship, subconsciously afraid to disturb the incredibly short patience of the ship's commander. It was a silly notion, he was a deck below and already on an errand for the Commodore and even if he were not it was hardly a crime for him to walk about his own ship, but it had been a trying two days. Once reaching a door the young man paused and rapped on it, there was a short beat before another his own age (a couple weeks his elder actually) but with short-cropped red hair appeared. He looked exhausted, embarrassed, and very cross. He was also still slightly damp.

"Best button up your coat before catching cold."

The cross look deepened in a frown before he signed, opened the door as an invitation and stepped back. Grumbling a moment under his breath he straightened out the borrowed shirt and waistcoat, then obliged by doing up the buttons.

"I am very sorry."

"You were hardly the one at the helm Theodore, you couldn't even see us over the side."

"Well yes but-"

"The ship couldn't be turned anyway, even if it could she doesn't change direction instantly."

"Well yes-"

"And I'm fine, only wet."

Theodore still hung his head a moment and shrugged. He signed and then invited himself to sit on the cot and effectively rumpled the perfectly tucked in covers. The red-head twitched. "Making yourself at home? What do you need?"

"We have to have something to offer, there's to be an officers meeting once you're presentable."

"We have a heading don't we? Which way did Interceptor go?"

"Sou-south-east. They ran straight with the wind, but there's no promise it's the correct direction. Sparrow may have told him just what he wanted to hear."

Gillette raised his brows, quirked his mouth and fixed his friend with a look. "Devil's advocate?"

"Okay I believe they're to pick up a crew, they have to and we all know that. The question is what after?"

"Likely back to pirating. There's no reason for Sparrow to actually attempt a rescue. He'll either press Turner or dump him somewhere."

They remained in silence for a beat, Gillette doing his best to coax the dripping lump of a wig into its correct shape on its stand. "I suppose I'm presentable as one may be." His tricorn was loose upon his head without the extra padding and dipped nearly to his eyes.

Groves failed to cover a laugh.

After another scowl the friends traversed back to the main deck and from there to the Commodore's cabin which was to the rearmost position. At its back two closed ports housed a pair of guns which took up a great deal of space but were a necessity. There was a desk, night table, book shelves and swinging cot. Altogether the cabin was just as comfortable as his office and quarters on land. Gillette and Groves joined the third and fourth lieutenants, who had not been present during the earlier commotion and had only just arrived with the returning midshipman. They were good men who were steady under fire though slightly more timid and inexperienced, thus unsure of themselves. Unfortunately one, Palmer, seemed to regard the Caribbean posting as a punishment, the other at least considered it more an adventure.

Both were waiting, hovering a short distance from the desk behind which Norrington was spreading a series of maps. One displayed all of the many islands, the others were more detailed sections. He glanced at the two of them and after frowning even deeper at Gillette's partial uniform shook his head once and gestured for them to join the group. "We have until Dauntless is loaded to make a decision."

They had until then to provide arguments and counters for him to make a decision. He was simply a commander who was gracious enough to consider their input. For a long moment the staff only looked at each other and then him.

"Follow Sparrow."

Groves was surprised that someone besides himself had suggested that course.

"Why?" Norrington weighed down his maps without looking up.

"He was the one who offered the name of a ship…?" Ginnis made it sound very much like a question, an unsure one, and thus it was treated as such.

"We already discussed, they weren't his allies, and they left him in the cell."

There was a pause, a collective breath as a piece of information which had been missed in all of the hustle and confusion of the evening and morning. Two of the dead marines had been recovered from inside the gaol, they had been posted outside and ordered to remain to prevent prisoner releases during the raiding. Someone had therefore broken in, it wasn't the canon shot that had killed them, and those who had entered had therefore been seen by Sparrow. Perhaps, he may have passed that information on to Turner in order to negotiate his own release. If that were the case then to catch up to them would give a definite direction to go from there.

It was of course still not a perfect plan. But it was a plan. They knew where the pirate would go, if he could be caught, even were it after a crew had been picked up then they would have a ship, they would have identities, and they would have somewhere to look.

"Mister Ginnis, Mister Palmer." The junior lieutenants straightened. "Expedite the loading, I want to be notified the moment we're prepared to leave."

Once the door closed behind them Gillette and Groves were directed to open the detailed maps and from there into a full depiction of the islands in the direction their wayward ship had vanished. There was a great deal of open water that direction and only one real destination. They'd lost time, and they were losing time with each minute. Overhead more and more boots and bare feet signaled the crew embarking, and then below heavy thumps vibrated the floor. As the three planned, the ship came alive around them.