Read chapter one for disclaimers.
Catherine Cobb sat cross-legged in her cell, in the corner furthest from the crew of The Saint. Thank God they had seen fit to separate her from them. In what fading light from the sun's setting that filtered through the cracks of the ship's planks, they looked ready to murder her were it not for the bars between them. If they hadn't seen her betrayal of them, they'd been told of it from someone who had. She still felt sick from the sight of Flynn's face after she'd blown it off that afternoon.
The man who had been called Mr. Fletcher came down to the brig and jangled a set of keys to separate the one he wanted from the rest. "Up ye go, miss," he said cheerily, unlocking her cell door. "Captain Norrington wants a word with ye over a platter 'n mug."
"Take 'er, and I hope he kills 'er," said one of the pirates in the opposite brig. "After what she did te us…bloody Judas, she is."
"Well, serves ye right te be pillagin' and plunderin' and takin' a young girl along wit' ye," Fletcher smiled, not bothered by the murderous tone in the least. Catherine quietly followed him up the stairs and to the captain's cabin. Fletcher opened the door and bowed in an endearing if not comical way.
"Don't be skeered, missy," he whispered when he straightened and saw her hesitate. "Our captain's not a nasty bloke. Rather fair n' 'is judgments, if I say so meself."
"It's that exactly I'm scared of," she replied before she stepped in. Catherine caught a flash of a sympathetic smile before he shut the door after her.
Catherine Cobb looked about her, taking in the comfortable cabin that belonged to The Avenger's captain. It was not opulent as a rich man's quarters, but neither was it bare. Every accommodation was provided to Captain Norrington, she found. From a simple table now filled with several dishes, to a bookshelf and desk strewn with maps and instruments and in an inner room, a reasonably sized bed. From that inner room strode the captain himself, smoothing out his dark brown hair into a ribbon and tying it back at the nape of his neck. When he saw her he smiled politely and bowed.
"Miss Cobb," he said, indicating the chair on the other end of the table. A deckhand who had been setting the table and filling the wine glasses pulled the chair out for her and held it while she sat. Saluting his captain, the deckhand left at a nod from Norrington. Catherine felt out of place. What did he want to talk to her about? Why did he call her to his cabin? She kept her hands folded in her lap, waiting for him to speak.
Captain Norrington helped himself to the platter of chicken, cutting into the breast. When he offered it to her, she refused. He set the platter down and went on to the bread and fruit.
"Come, Miss Cobb, you must be hungry," James prodded. "When was the last time you ate?"
"Day b'fore yesterday, I think," she replied, her voice hollow. "But I don't really feel hungry, sir."
"Some bread at least," he said after another few moments of silence. He looked up at her, his eyes searching her face. She looked tired and still in shock. "Are you sorry you shot your captain?"
Catherine suddenly looked up at him, the shock from the afternoon's events replaced by a feral hate Norrington was troubled by. Oh, he'd seen it in men's eyes, right before a battle. It didn't belong in the weaker sex. Looking again, he took note that she shook, whether in agitation or some other great force of emotion.
"No. I'm not sorry," she answered after taking a deep breath to master her voice and emotions. "I'd been waitin' to kill that bastard e'er since he threw me down on the deck of his ship and took me again' my will, right i' front of his crew."
The force of her answer and the weight of her words shocked Norrington. The fact that a woman had cursed in his presence, coupled with the knowledge that a young girl had been taken advantage of troubled his gentleman's nature. But he quickly unknit his eyebrows and returned to his meal.
"Tell me how you came to be a pirate," he asked quietly, taking a bite of his poultry.
Catherine sighed and reached for a piece of bread, picking at it and eating very small bits at a time as she spoke. "My mother died last year. Six months before that, me father sailed out of port. Nivver seen 'im since. After me mother's funeral, I started workin' as a washerwoman with a friend o' the family. Mrs. Tavington. She was nice to me. Let me stay with 'er and 'er family so's I wouldn't be alone."
Catherine took a drink of wine and fell silent, and Norrington found himself interested in her history. After a few moments of her nibbling at the bread quietly, he encouraged her to continue. She sighed again.
"I met Flynn at the market one day. 'E found out where I lived and took up visitin'. 'E started talkin' about how he sailed most of his life, and he'd usually come back to tell stories about the islands he'd seen. I told him how I wanted to go back to England. Flynn told me he'd take me, but I'd have to leave wit' 'im quick and not say anything te anyone. Said it'd be like the old tales the Greeks made up about their adventures."
Catherine paused and started laughing. Captain Norrington looked at her closely and watched her face contort as she fought sobbing. "After I got aboard The Saint, he turned into the devil 'imself," she gasped between sobs, trying to control herself. She failed miserably and wept as she continued. "He'd say that if I didn't do whatever I was told, he'd beat me. One day, b'fore noon even, he got drunk an…we'll, I a'ready told ye that part. Made me life mis'rable, n' his crew followed ev'rything 'e did. 'ad to clean up vomit n' other leavin's for 'em. Cook'd fer 'em too. Aye, 'f I had been able to, I'd have poisoned their vittles and left 'em te die.'
Norrington sat at the other end of the table, his fork and knife in hand and yet unable to bring himself to eat. Her story was exactly what he would have liked to tell Elizabeth when she was younger, had she not already made up her mind that she wanted to be a pirate and go on adventures. How she got lucky and chosen to affiliate herself with a crew as clumsy and yet as fortunate as that of the Black Pearl, he would never understand. Catherine Cobb's experience wasn't so serendipitous and in his heart, Norrington wished he had not given Sparrow that day's head start. There might have been the end of pirates that day, if Jack had hung. Or at least, he would have kept his commission.
Catherine twisted her shirt, pulling it away from her so she could dab her eyes. But she couldn't stop crying. Norrington stood and went to her, offering her a frayed handkerchief. She took it and covered her face with it, her 'thank you' barely heard over her hiccoughing.
"If you were to go to England, what would you do," he asked her quietly. Catherine took deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself, her elbows resting on the table.
"Mother ran away with Father to be married," she said after a few moments, still quietly hiccoughing. "I don't know nothin' about her folks other than they lived near Brighton. I suppose they're the only family I got, now."
Norrington began to pace the cabin, rubbing his bearded chin thoughtfully. He stopped suddenly at the desk where his maps of the Caribbean ocean and the English Channel were. Taking up his sextant, he marked his position and moved it slowly toward the English Channel, calculating in his mind how long it would take to arrive there.
Catherine had by this time slowed her tears and was taking deep, gulping breaths. Putting a hand to her head, she leaned on her elbow which rested on the table. Heaving a sigh, she realized that she felt much better now, after she had finally told someone, anyone what had happened to her. She straightened when he turned back to her with a small smile.
"We are currently positioned five and a half days northeast of the Bahamas," he began. "It would take quite a long time, Miss Cobb, several months in fact, to make a journey to England. But, if you agree to it, I will return to Long Island and restock as well as dispose of our less than friendly passengers before I make the crossing."
Catie's brown eyes went wide in surprise. "I…" she began before closing her mouth with a snap. She tried starting again, but the words didn't come to her. After looking at the captain, whose arms were folded across his chest as he leaned against his desk, she suddenly became suspicious. "I'd hoped to mebbe convince ye to take me back to Long Island where I could look for me own passage home. Why are ye bein' so kind, sir?"
"Because I believe in young women being protected against such scoundrels as you fell in with, Miss Cobb," Norrington replied, going back to his chicken which was now near cold. "It would sit ill with me if I simply returned you to Long Island with no place to stay, no money not even a chaperone to guide you. Therefore, I take it upon myself to escort you where you belong."
The girl simply sat in her chair dumbfounded. This man was possibly the nicest person she had ever met in her life. She had made expectations out of small favors and received something on a grander scale. Such charity made her eyes itch yet again. She looked up at Norrington with a grateful smile. "Thank ye so much, captain," she said quietly. "I don't know how I'll ever repay ye for yer trouble."
Norrington ignored the pregnant offer. "While we're at Long Island, I'll see to it you have better clothes, more suited for propriety. I won't tolerate your dress any longer than I must."
Catherine suddenly felt as if she offended him by merely being in his presence. She blushed and looked down, pulling up her shirt so as not to reveal so much skin, tucking it everywhere she could to make herself more presentable. Norrington looked up from his plate, watching her fidget and allowing himself half a smile. Even after the time she spent with pirates, she still seemed to care about someone's good opinion enough to try to be pleasant.
When the meal was over, Captain Norrington stood and wordlessly went to the inner room and reappeared with a white bundle in his hands. "You've had enough, I think, of sleeping with unkempt men, Miss Cobb," Norrington said, going over to his desk where his tri-cornered hat lay. "You will be sleeping in my cabin until we reach Brighton."
"Oh. But…"
"Don't contradict me," he said evenly. His green eyes scowled at her, daring her to make him angry. It made Catherine back away a step.
"Aye captain," she replied meekly, her eyes dropping to the floor. He turned on his boot heel and opened the door. Just before he pulled it shut, he heard a hurried. "an' thank ye!"
The return to Long Island was uneventful, and the lads all gave a shout of hurrah when they were told to return to the ship in a week. Supplies had to be bought, goods sold or traded, and a young ward to be taken care of. Norrington found in Catie Cobb a submissive and pleasantly thankful girl, if a bit unrefined. He had Fletcher take care of the trading of most of the goods, but he took some of the gold for himself to purchase two or three dresses and a couple of hats for Catherine. The poor girl didn't know what to answer when he asked her for preferences of color or design, and so the shopkeeper and his wife took charge and matched swatches of fabric to Catie's hair and her browned skin, making sure that everything was within the captain's unyielding price range.
It was the tailor's turn to become flustered when he was told that he had less than a week to complete two cotton dresses for the young miss. But one look from those challenging eyes of the captain's, and he wiped away the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief and nodded fervently.
Next was the hat shop. Catherine had asked the tailor's wife for samples of the fabric they would use to make her dresses and quickly learned how to match the design to a proper hat. Norrington stood by and let her have a certain amount of freedom in her choice, but carefully held the last word concerning prices. He became increasingly approving of Catherine when she dutifully overlooked some of the more attractive hats and kept to things more simple and practical.
When Norrington had paid the proprietor and stepped out onto the cobblestone street with Catherine, it was near noon. Making their way through the small market square to inquire after rooms at an inn, the captain of The Avenger went to a cart with various fruits and paid for two peaches, offering one to Catie with a sedate smile. She took it and rubbed it on her shirt before taking a huge bite, the red juice dribbling down her chin. She seemed either oblivious to the dark red stain now making its way down her neck, or she didn't care.
"Here," he chuckled, fishing the worn handkerchief out of his pocket. "You're worse than a child."
Catherine smiled sheepishly as she wiped the juice away. "I'm sorry," she apologized before making a confession. "I ain't had a good day like this in well ov'r a year."
Norrington bit back a sarcastic comment when he turned to look at her. She really did seem to be enjoying herself, and truly thankful for the hats and dresses, however cheap he had made sure they were. He cocked a smile, trying to help her be happy. "I hope you have more good days, then."
The next week passed in an unhurried state of quiet. Norrington stayed at the inn, across the hall from Catherine and invited her to knock on his door or send messages to him if he was conducting business in town. When The Avenger was ready to make way, Norrington escorted Catherine to the tailor's shop to get her clothes. The tailor and his wife looked extremely tired, but they meekly offered Norrington the dresses he commissioned and were glad to take the payment he gave and a little extra. "For good work in such a short time," he said.
The tailor's wife took Catherine aside and gave her a third dress box. "I thought you'd be needin' some underthings, dearie," she whispered. "So I've got you a nightshift, some stockings and what not. Oh, and there's a pair of buckle shoes, too."
"Oh, yer awful kind ma'am," Catherine smiled. "I really am sorry we rushed ye so…"
"Oh, it was good for us. Not like we get too much business anyway," the woman waved her off. "And your lordship's payment was quite alright. You needn't worry."
By the time Catie and Norrington returned to The Avenger, the crewmen were already weighing anchor and hoisting sails. Norrington began to give orders sternly before turning to Catherine.
"Go into my cabin and make yourself comfortable. Change, if you like," he said. He was surprised when Catherine smiled like a giddy little girl and kissed his cheek.
"Thank ye, Captain Norrin'ton," she beamed before rushing into the cabin with her dresses and hat boxes, awkwardly trying to keep them all in her hands. "Fer ev'rythin'!"