Author's Note: I deserve all the finger wagging you can manage, and more. Thank you for remembering this story exists and for taking the time to review it.

Commodore Norrington put down his spyglass and cracked a triumphant smile, which he hurriedly attempted to hide. He still had a smug and pompous air about him when he ordered his crew to make ready the barge. He had seen Jack Sparrow replace his Jolly Roger with a white flag; he knew the man never had much stomach for a fair fight. His first lieutenant gave the order for the gunners to cease firing. He, Commodore James Norrington, had finally outwitted, outfought, and outmaneuvered the infamous Jack Sparrow. Surely, he would be rewarded by the clerks in London with a better posting, or maybe, dare he hope, an Admiralty. As his crewmen made ready the shore-boat, he kept a wary eye on The Black Pearl; he didn't want Sparrow to slip through his fingers one more time.

Adriana stood in her corner and watched Jack leave, pondering his cryptic message. She had noticed that both ships had ceased firing, but she wasn't entirely sure of the reason. Totally unfamiliar with 18th century naval battles, she didn't know if they stopped at nightfall only to continue again when there was light enough to see by. But Jack's parting remark didn't make any sense, if they had paused because of darkness. In addition, couldn't one of the combatants slink away under cover of darkness? She sat on the bed and frowned. Maybe she should tidy up a bit. She was a terrible cabin-guest for trashing his room like this and stealing his clothes. Could he have been short with her because he was angry about the pirate costume and now the dress? She stood up and sighed; she needed a cigarette. She lit one up, and then began a half-assed effort to pick up her mess.

Jack paused before leaving his cabin and stepping out on to the main deck. The crew would be mutinous. He had just signed every one of their death warrants, and they knew it. It would be worse for the Royal Navy deserters among his crew. They would be whipped before they were hung. He had gotten himself into a royal mess, and had no idea how to get out of it. All he could do was feign confidence and act as if he had a cunning plan for escape. Captain Jack Sparrow always gets out of trouble; why should this time be any different? But first, he needed a bit of rum. He took a big drink from one of the bottles still on the table from his earlier interrogation session. That hadn't gone as well as he had wished. He shrugged it off; she was still a lovely little thing. Taking another swig, he mused that he was quite fortunate to have found her. Once all this 'surrender' nonsense is over with… His mood darkened again. He had to surrender to that bloody nincompoop Norrington. He drained the last dregs from the bottle and tossed it aside. There was no point in avoiding it any longer; it was time to face his men.

The whole crew was gathered on the main deck waiting for Jack's arrival. Still armed, they grumbled amongst themselves. A pirate never surrenders; he kills or is killed. Surrender was for gentlemen who didn't want to risk bloodying their silk shirts. They would have fought to the death, because none of them had any desire to dance the hangman's jig. Brave men, such as themselves, shouldn't hang to amuse the public of Port Royal. They had fought many years for Jack, and they couldn't help but think bitterly about the way he sought to repay their service.

Jack opened the double doors wide, making his entrance with a mischievous grin. "'ello gents."

He strode along the front rank of the crew, taking in their glum faces and hostile stances. They gripped cutlasses and boarding pikes so tightly their knuckles were white in the flickering lantern light. He flashed his golden grin again, in an attempt to reassure his crew.

"Commodore Norrington is going to be paying us a friendly li'l visit." Jack heard his crew spit and groan when he spoke Norrington's name. "Then, we're going to return the favor and pay Norrington a friendly li'l visit. And then, gents, we're going to sneak away, 'cause we can't stand too much of Norrington's company. He's a bit of a buffoon, ain't 'e boys?"

The crew cheered Jack's last remark.

"Now put your weapons away boys, we don't want Norrington getting all 'ot and bothered."

Norrington's boat was making slow progress across the black waters that separated him from his prize. He ordered his men to row faster. God, did he hate night actions. He still felt sick to the stomach when he thought about the incident some years ago at Isla de Muerta. That incident reminded him that he was young, inexperienced, and had much to learn about military strategy. Why, in these past few years, he's become immeasurably wiser and cleverer. He's advanced so much that he outfoxed that rouge, Jack Sparrow, who he's been hunting for years. Sparrow's always been a step ahead, Norrington won't deny it, but somehow this time was different. Sparrow slipped up, and now Norrington caught him. He was almost giddy at the thought. The crash of waves against The Black Pearl's hull was much closer now. Norrington drifted back from his thoughts to reality. Sparrow wasn't captured yet, and he had to be prepared for any sort of obstacle the pirate may have waiting for him. Much to Norrington's surprise, a ladder hung against the hull for him when his boat finally reached The Pearl's side. Drawing his sword, he was the first one up the ladder. His grand arrival on the deck was much less graceful than he had imagined it. The sword in his right hand made everything awkward, and heaving himself over the railing was damn near impossible without stabbing himself or anyone around with the narrow blade.

"Welcome aboard, Commodore." Jack bowed and tipped his hat in mocking reverence to the man who stood on The Pearl's deck smoothing the gold braid on his uniform.

"Your sword," Norrington's mouth was drawn in a tight line as he held out his hand to receive Jack's sword, which signified his surrender.

"Cuttin' right to the chase, Commodore? No pleasantries for your good friend Jack? No 'nice to see ye,' or 'Jolly good fight?'" Jack ignored Norrington's request; his sword remained in its scabbard.

"Your sword, Sparrow," Norrington said it with a little more forcibly.

"It's Captain Sparrow. You're on me ship. Lovely ship, ain't she? She's a bit worse for wear…" Jack stopped mid sentence.

"You will hand over your sword immediately, Captain Sparrow," Norrington spat the words at Jack as if they were poisonous, "Or your sword will be taken from you by force." He gestured at the boarding party of red-coated Marines that stood behind him.

With the look of a puppy that's just been kicked, Jack handed his sword to Commodore Norrington. Norrington, however, did not hand the sword back to Jack, as was the custom.

"Clap him in irons." Norrington gave the order as two Marines materialized with manacles from his right and left. Jack was quickly shackled hand and foot; Norrington wasn't taking any chances.

Adriana had heard the arrival of Norrington, and to better observe the proceedings, she cracked the cabin door open. She sat on the floor in the puddle of her skirt and watched what was happening on deck. Eager to know her fate and the fate of everyone on board, she strained to witness everything that went on. She gasped as Jack was chained up. Her heart started to beat faster and her breathing became shallower as panic swept over her.

Norrington ordered the marines to round up the crew of The Black Pearl. Some of them were ushered below decks to be locked up in the ship's own brig, and the rest were to be transported to The Dauntless and imprisoned there.

In all the chaos that followed Norrington's orders, Adriana remained where she was, watching the events unfold. A redcoat, in passing, saw the door slightly ajar. He did not come directly at the door to investigate, he rather went around from the side, and therefore he caught Adriana unaware and unprepared for his entrance. He pulled the doors open, and pointed his musket at the potential ambush. All the blood drained from Adriana's face as she screamed and threw herself at his feet. She shook violently, so terrified and certain of her impending death that she sobbed and gasped for air. So shocked by the sudden appearance of this sobbing, disheveled woman, the Marine lowered his weapon, and tried to step back, away from her grip around his ankles. He succeeded in flailing his arms which attracted the attention of Lieutenant Gillette. Gillette noticed Adriana clinging to the sergeant's legs and immediately brought it to the attention of Commodore Norrington.

"Sir, you better see this."