Obligatory disclaimer: The Mouse owns all, save my original characters.
Dawn had not yet broken when Norrington went above deck. Fog caressed the ship, blanketing the vessel in a gray mist that made him think of London mornings. Seagulls screeched overhead, fighting each other as they waited for fish to appear at the ocean surface. Obviously, the ship was skimming the coastline. Sleep was not forthcoming as he replayed his encounters with Missus Ramage over the past few days, but especially last evening. After several hours of pondering what caused him to feel such animosity towards Missus Ramage, Norrington came to the realization that it was her streak of fearlessness. It reminded him too much of another woman he had known – many years ago.
Elizabeth Swann.
The spoiled only daughter of the governor of Jamaica, Elizabeth caught his eye with her unsurpassed beauty and his heart with her fiery independence. The same spark that reduced him to a stammering schoolboy in her presence also caused his heart to harden against her. Wanting too much, taking too much, without thought or care of the consequences, Elizabeth sailed through life without heed to the responsibility of her actions. Others always picked up the pieces that fell in her wake.
I could have been one of those fools.
Norrington sighed, realizing that there was no truth in that; Elizabeth Swann never had any intention in tethering herself to a naval commodore. She had her cap set for the blacksmith's apprentice for as long as Norrington could remember.
And look how things ended up… Me in service as a goods trader and privateer and the two of them doing God knows what. Funny how life never goes according to plan. No matter how hard you try to strong-arm it into submission. But thanks be to God that it was Will Turner who ended up saddled with her and her hedonistic ways.
Norrington stopped his tour of the deck and leaned against the railing, his eyes scanning a horizon blurred by haze. From time to time, he liked to rise before his crew of men and take a visual inventory of his ship. Not that he did not have complete trust in his men, but with the day-to-day activities keeping him occupied sometimes it was easier to take notice of the running of the ship when no one was around. Although he picked a perfectly dreadful day in doing so, as the gray tendrils of fog virtually obscured anything more than three feet before him.
Sighing, his thoughts turned back to Missus Ramage, against his better judgment. As it was, Norrington knew he spent entirely too much time contemplating his rapport with his passenger. Or lack thereof. If asked, Norrington would be unable to explain his animosity towards his fare. Not that it truly mattered – in a few days they would part ways and never see one another again. But he did have a feeling about her. One that left him very unsettled.
That if he did not keep her at arm's length – or further – she would be the end of him.
His gut feeling for matters had all but abandoned him in the past several years. Norrington either worked on sudden impulse or a series of opportunities presented themselves to him. But there was a time when an internal voice guided him through all his decisions, helping him set the course for his life. An internal voice that Norrington thought had abandoned him a long time ago.
But after too many years to recount, his gut feeling was back. And it was now telling him to run, not walk, as far away from Missus Ramage as possible.
Pushing himself away from the railing, Norrington continued his stroll. The fog was started to burn off as the sun began to glimmer on the horizon. Soon, the deck would be abuzz with activity as his men began to wake. From the little he was able to ascertain through the mist, all was in proper order, his men surpassing the standards by which Norrington himself lived by. A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Not a coil of rope or crate of supplies was out of place.
Considering the complete hell the crew went through the night before, everything looked pristine. Absolutely incredible those men are.
Ahead, barely perceptible in the haze, Norrington was barely able to identify a figure sitting at the bow of the ship. Checking his pocket watch, he was confused. The only men on watch were his boatswain, Mister Greene, and little Matthew Wright, who was keeping watch up in the crow's nest. Norrington picked up his pace, wanting to bid a good morning to his fellow early riser.
Before him was Missus Ramage, clad in a dove gray gown – looking ethereal in the glimmering mist. Her hair was unbound. And dripping wet. And caressing her cheeks and neck. And causing parts of her dress to become transparent as water dampened the fabric. Her back was turned to him, so Norrington was unable to tell how strategically placed the damps spots were on the fabric but the sudden thought left him blushing furiously. Julia was rhythmically pulling a brush through her tresses, as if completely unaware that she had an audience. Norrington closed his mouth as soon as he realized that it was slack in awe.
His blood thrummed in his ears; the sound was deafening. Norrington had to turn away and shake his head to clear the noise pounding in his brain. He then remembered the only advice his old man ever gave him on women, and of all things, it was from Shakespeare. "Women speak two languages – one of which is verbal."
You have to nip this in the bud, old man. You are not in the least bit smitten with her. It is just because you have not been with a woman in so long that you are reacting like this. Now get yourself under control!
Staring at her back, just a few feet behind his passenger, Norrington attempted to keep his voice light and neutral. "I see that you have made yourself quite at home." His voice sounded strange. Almost disembodied, as if it belonged to someone else. So much for maintaining composure.
Julia had heard the footfalls of his steps long before Captain Norrington made his presence known. But until he decided to announce himself, Julia was not about to turn and acknowledge the captain. She had escaped the chamber of her room to seek the solitude of the sea to clear her thoughts, which had been bombarding her all night long. However, since Captain Norrington made a comment, Julia was obligated to acknowledge his presence. So she pivoted on her makeshift seat to look her companion in the eye, only to notice that one brow was lifted in question. Believing his statement was not in need of a reply, Julia just stared at him, continuing to comb tangles out of her locks.
I thought we had laid our disagreements to rest last night. Could it be that she is still angry?
He tried another tactic, hoping to make Julia smile. Anything to change the look on her face. "I must admit that you startled me, sitting there. For a moment I thought a mermaid had climbed aboard and ensconced herself at the helm of the ship. The only thing missing is your tail, but that may be hidden beneath your skirt." As soon as he mentioned what may lie under Missus Ramage's clothing, his cheeks colored crimson. But instead of trying to correct his mistake, he opted to keep his mouth quiet, lest he continue to blunder.
Julia did indeed smile, ruefully, and then ducked her head so that she was staring at the stilled brush in her hands. It was obvious that he still had not elevated her standing from whore to respected widow if he was going to talk about her person in such a way. Or, Julia supposed, he was attempting to be teasing with her and he was a poor participant. The thought caused Julia to feel shy around the captain, the conversation from last night still fresh in her mind, so Julia instead tried to change the subject. Her tutor's mermaid tales came back to her.
"Is Alexander the king alive?"
The heat faded from his cheeks. Captain Norrington's eyes glowed in amusement. It had been many years since he had heard the tale of Alexander the Great's half-sister Thessalonica who, in death, became a mermaid and lived in the Aegean Sea. When Thessalonica encountered sailors, she had only one question – how was the welfare of Alexander.
Furrowing his brow, Captain Norrington struggled to think of the proper reply. After the passage of several moments, the response sprung forth from the crevices of his childhood mind. "He lives and still rules." He paused, the look of triumph on his features melting into mirth. "Please though, in your anger at me, do not turn into a Gorgon. I will… I will try to treat you better. Be more respectful." His voice faltered, much to his vexation. So much for keeping emotion out of his voice.
Julia sucked in her breath. He was again extending the proverbial olive branch, but she was still wary. After lying in her bed upon departure from his cabin, sleep proved elusive. So Julia rose, thinking that she would try to calm her nerves by bathing. After collecting seawater in a pail, Julia rinsed her skin, and then proceeded to wash her tresses. Realizing her cabin did not give her enough room to maneuver as she brushed out her locks, Julia dressed and went above deck. After settling in to watch the vessel plow through the mist, Captain Norrington appeared like a mirage in the desert of fog. Julia wet her lips as she formulated a response.
Sighing quietly, Julia shifted so that she could better look at the captain and said, "While I know I look a fright, I promise not to turn into anything resembling Medusa." Her lips curved into a smile. "Just as long as you promise not to give me reason to need to do so," she added, a twinkle in her eye. "Fair enough?" Julia was thrilled that the tone of her voice was playful rather than spiteful. The dance the two of them were attempting was unknown to her, but she was doing her best to master the intricate steps. So far, both of their toes remained unscathed.
An eyebrow quirked up in response. Norrington then folded his arms across his chest, his weight resting on his left hip as he leaned against the railing. The salt in the water caused her hair to curl fetchingly, although the fog was not allowing the locks to dry so they remained dark, giving Missus Ramage a decided exotic look. It would not be any stretch of the imagination to see Missus Ramage as some sort of fey creature.
Stop acting like you are under some sort of spell she has cast.
Inspiration suddenly stuck Norrington. "While I certainly was not expecting company so early in the morning, my happening upon you was quite fortuitous, indeed. I meant what I said last night. I know the hostility began on my end, but I would like if we were able to enter into a truce of sorts."
Julia considered the captain with a skeptical eye. She found being the target of animosity extremely taxing and would love to put their enmity to bed. But only figuratively. Julia sighed, not caring how unladylike she appeared, her fingers dancing across the brush bristles. This new side of the captain, while certainly preferable, was still unexpected. Not trusting herself to trust Captain Norrington, Julia wavered as she contemplated his offer.
Maybe I should still expect the worst, but hope for the best.
The smile not quite reaching her eyes, Julia bestowed the captain with a dazzling grin. "I would like that. Greatly. Do you… do you have anything… in mind?" Julia was almost tired of the captain talking about the end of his hostility because he was doing little to back up his words; she wanted to know what he was going to do to correct his past mistakes.
The captain looked as if he was going to stagger from the great weight that had lifted from his shoulders. Relief washed over his features and a sigh shuddered through his body. His hands rose up to his hair, smoothing back imaginary loose strands. Norrington was unable to articulate to even himself why her complying meant so much to him, but he knew their verbal sparring was taking its toll on them both. If both were willing to meet halfway, then Norrington presumed the tension between the two of them would dissipate, like the morning fog.
"Good, good. And I certainly do have something in mind – for I was wondering if you would like to dine in my quarters this evening."
Her hairbrush clattered as it hit the wooden boards of the deck below her feet.
