Coming Home
It was a pleasant evening so far, and Elizabeth prided herself on her plan concerning her friend Henrietta and Captain Filister. These two were standing on the balcony chatting after dinner, while she herself was a little preoccupied with her dear father.
"My dear," he said softly and looked over his shoulder as if to make sure that nobody heard them. "You are the mistress of this house! You can't leave all the work to Miss Van Dyke entertaining our guests!"
"That's an old trick, Father." She smiled, but seeing his urgent expression, she sighed and shrugged. "As you please then, as you please!"
She went out to meet them on the balcony, anxious that she could interrupt delicate matters, but as it were, she burst in nothing more than a discussion of seabirds.
"Nonsense," Henrietta cried and laughed heartily. "You cannot tame them!"
"I assure you, you can! I've seen a great many tame pelicans, albatrosses or seagulls!"
"I am ready to believe at once that every now and then, a lame seagull falls on your deck, Sir. Having nothing better to do, you feed it up until it is healthy again, it flies away, and when the next one appears, you think it was your old friend coming back to you!"
"But no! I have to protest, Miss Van Dyke, you do us no justice!" the Captain replied in the same, cheerful manner. "We have an albatross as a mascot on board of the Fortuna, and please believe me, it's always the same bird coming back to us!"
"Because it obeys to you when calling it by its name, I suppose?"
"It has a name indeed! It's called Hermes!" He grinned at the two ladies, and raised an eyebrow, "Every sailor spins his yarn, I know the old saying, but I must beg you to believe me!"
"Oh, don't worry," Elizabeth said sweetly. "We shall believe every word that you say! Miss Van Dyke likes a good banter, that is all!"
Miss Van Dyke seemed disinclined to be labelled like that, but she had no more occasions to oppose. Down in the harbour, quite a turmoil had broken loose, and vaguely, they could spot a rudder boat being tied to the pier, and a dozen of people, civilians just like officers, surrounding the place.
"What the –"
Captain Filister stared intensely for some seconds, before turning on his heels and muttering a short excuse. He ordered the other officers present to follow him, and looking puzzled, Governor Swann inquired as to the reason for such hasty departure. His daughter signalled him that she had no idea, and the whole party went back to the balcony to see what was going on down there. They saw the officers sprinting down the narrow, winding road – after all, Captain Filister was responsible for this town and its affairs until Commodore Norrington's return, and only a few minutes later, they had reached the origin of the disturbance.
Everywhere were people now, some of them carrying lamps or torches, and in the feeble light, Elizabeth could distinguish a man being lifted from out of the boat. The distance was too great to have a better look, and she would already have gone back to the parlour, shrugging with the idea that one of the guards had fallen into the harbour basin, if there hadn't been something very peculiar about the whole scenery. Every now and then, one of the guards fell asleep on duty, and not seldom, they would plunge into the water then. This wasn't extraordinary, and wouldn't have caused twenty officers to swarm about like anxious bees. The next thing she perceived was that a carriage was rattling up the road to their own house, which lay rather high above the town itself. What was going on there?
She and her father hurried downstairs, just in time for the carriage to arrive, and the first one to jump out of it was Lieutenant Gillette with a shocked expression. "Governor," he croaked, "can we care for an injured in your house – our own premises don't – well –"
Another man pushed him out of the way, and to her utmost stupefaction, Elizabeth recognised Lieutenant Chandler, who had sailed away on the Dauntless. The Lieutenant had already looked better, cleaner foremost, but nevertheless, he could summon his wits much better than the confused Gillette and exclaimed, "Sir! I pray you to show us where we can bring Commodore Norrington. He's been heavily injured, and I fear for his life. Please Sir, do help us now, we heard that Doctor Jennings is in your house already!"
Elizabeth gaped at him, speechless, while her father cried, "Of course, yes – but – where is the Dauntless – how…"
"The Dauntless lies at the bottom of the ocean, Sir, or what's left of her anyway. Gillette, help me!"
Poor Gillette didn't seem to know what to do but obey his comrade helplessly, so together they carried somebody out of the carriage that Elizabeth wouldn't have recognised at once to be the Commodore. She gave a shrill scream, clasping her mouth and goggling at him; he was dead pale, half of his face covered with bandages, and his usually so stiff pose vanquished, with his limbs dangling beside him lifelessly.
"Good Lord," Elizabeth whispered in horror, "God, James! James!"
The men carried him into the house, and the dazed Governor uttered useless directions; waking herself from her shock, Elizabeth followed them and cried decidedly, "Take him upstairs – the first door on the left side!"
She rushed after them and so did her stammering father, "But Elizabeth – this is your own room – why not one of the guest chambers – Commodore – Jesus –"
"I can sleep wherever, Father, and my room is the best," she hissed, angry that this seemed to be his only concern, and sick with fear when the two officers lowered the Commodore on the bed. What was visible of his face was just as white as the bed linen and she thought he was dead. It took her breath to see him like this, she clang to Henrietta's arm, who had asked if she could be of any help, and battled hard with her up-rising tears. Henrietta appeared to be just as shocked, but yet more collected than Elizabeth. "Lizzy! Pull yourself together! You don't help him by breaking down as well!"
Dr. Jennings came running and sent everybody out of the room to examine the patient; Elizabeth had refused to go at first, but the joint powers of her father, Henrietta and Lieutenant Chandler had prevailed in the end. She paced the hallway in front of her room, and quietly, Chandler tried to summarise the events so far.
She couldn't grasp it – the Dauntless! The epitome of power and invincibility! Slain by a storm and heavy impact! How anybody had survived such catastrophe! When Chandler came to the next part of his report, her jaw dropped even further – Jack?! Jack Sparrow?! Taking the ship-wrecked remains of the crew to Port Royal?!
"Where is he? Where is Jack?!"
"He's gone, Miss Swann," he said coolly, "I granted him safe-conduct, but he would rather not try his luck. You know that promises can be treacherous –"
"But – but –" She felt dizzy and leaned against the wall, taking deep breath and muttering helplessly, "And in all these days, he hasn't woken up once? Not once?"
It was more an entreaty than an actual question, but Lieutenant Chandler only shook his head without looking at her. Henrietta patted her arm, murmuring, "He will make it through, you'll see! He is strong!"
Chandler shot her a glance that was hard to decipher, shaking his head to himself, but Elizabeth had seen it very well and cried, "What is it, Lieutenant? What were you about to say?"
"Nothing, Miss."
"No, you were about to speak! I've seen you!"
"Elizabeth, darling," her father said with a faltering voice, "You must calm down –"
"I won't calm down! Will you tell me now, or do I have to start screaming, for I swear you, I will!" She glared at Chandler, who returned the look just as hostile.
"Very well, Miss, very well!" he snarled, piercing her with his eyes. "You're used to always get whatever you want, so who am I to disappoint Miss Swann's demands? As for your dear friend here stating how 'strong' the Commodore was – what makes you think so, Miss Van Dyke? Have you talked to him lately? Have you seen him?"
His voice became louder and steadier with every word, but he did not turn his look away from Elizabeth, even though he was addressing Miss Van Dyke. Pure rage was sparkling in his pupils when he spat, "It is so easy to claim how 'strong' somebody is – must be very reassuring when you've stabbed a dagger into their hearts! Spares the remorse, doesn't it? You wail how thin and worn-out the Commodore looks? Now let me tell you that he's looked exactly like that before the Dauntless' destruction yet!"
"Lieutenant!" Governor Swann and Lieutenant Gillette cried in the same moment, but Elizabeth lifted her hand and groaned, "No! No – let him – he – leave him alone, will you… I – he's right! He is right –"
Nausea engulfed her, and she supported herself on her father's and Henrietta's arm. It was the truth that hurt her so badly, but she wouldn't blame the Lieutenant for having spoken it. She had behaved abominably against the Commodore, and even if nobody else would reproach her, her own conscience wouldn't rest. It had never properly rested since the day when the Dauntless had left Port Royal, and the continued absence of her former fiancé had not vanquished her regrets. A part of her knew that most of his miserable appearance was owed to his injuries, but that didn't lessen her self-accusations one bit. In this moment there, she felt responsible for everything, not only his pallor and loss of weight, but all his injuries, the destruction of the Dauntless, why, the storm itself, really, and to be compelled waiting there, with nothing to do to make up, or at least distract herself, made things only worse.
Some minutes later, Dr. Jennings opened the door to the patient's room and came out. His face was deeply troubled. "Whoever has taken care of him, they must have saved his life. For all I can say, his head is heavily injured, but the wound has been treated with great skill so it would not inflame at least. As long as he is unconscious, I cannot say how bad the extend of the injury truly is, but presently, I'm far more concerned with a case of pneumonia and the resulting fever. You could boil an egg on his forehead! He needs cold compresses, constantly – I will return directly after dawn. Pray for him, if you want to help him!"
Elizabeth insisted to stay at the Commodore's side, and nobody would have been able to chase her away, not her father, not Henrietta, and neither Lieutenant Chandler's reproachful glares. Every fifteen minutes, she renewed the compresses around James' calves, his forehead and the one on his chest; she prayed to the Lord above to have mercy with him. And for the first time in her life, she really looked into the face of the man that would have been her husband by now, if she only had wanted him. She smirked with the realisation that she had never seen his own hair in the last how-many years, and was surprised how much younger he looked so suddenly.
For a man who had spent half of his life on sea, it was peculiar how soft and bright his skin was, and his unconsciousness revealed the true gentleness of his features. The way he was looking now, one could hardly imagine him being the most powerful man in this part of the world, or that he had the byname 'scourge of piracy'. There was nothing fierce in that face, no severity, not a hint of the famous, mighty Commodore. She vaguely thought that, could any of those notorious scoundrels see him now, they'd wonder why his mere reputation had ever kept them away from Port Royal in those last years.
"Oh James," she moaned quietly, gazing down at him and longing to be capable of making him wake up, or at least, make him regain some of his familiar air. That man lying on her bed there wasn't Commodore Norrington, it was simply James, not a sailor but a man on the verge of death, and she could not bear it.
She knelt down in front of the cross on the wall, folded her hands and prayed aloud, "Dear Lord, show your magnificence tonight! Don't take him from us! I am a sinner and have no right to demand anything from you, but I beg you, let him live! He is a good man, as you surely know, he deserves your mercy. Oh Lord, he deserves everything at all, please, do it for him if you don't want to do it for me. Grant him some more years on earth, to be an example for us others. I won't ask anything for myself ever again, but please, you must grant me – him – this!"
She felt no tiredness, only unspeakable fear, and wouldn't have noticed the dawning sun, hadn't it been for Doctor Jennings' return, just as he had promised. She still wouldn't part from the Commodore's side, even less when the doctor announced that there hadn't been any remarkable improvement of his state. The fever was most likely a result of the pneumonia, from the saltwater that had intruded his lungs, and the aged physician wouldn't make a guess how the chances of the patient might be.
"But it hasn't become worse either, has it," she murmured tonelessly.
"No, but to tell you the truth, Miss Swann – it couldn't be much worse, I'm afraid! It's a miracle he's survived the journey even."
It was all her fault, she knew it, utterly mad with herself. The Lieutenant had been so right to accuse her, to tell her what no one else would have dared to speak to her face. For everything, she was to blame! Hadn't she broken his heart that day, he wouldn't have been so stupefied as to let Jack escape. No, she felt no remorse for wanting to save Jack, but there would have been other ways. And if Jack hadn't fled from Port Royal, James Norrington would never have been forced to leave to capture him again, ergo he wouldn't have gotten into that storm, would never have met those attackers… In short: if Elizabeth hadn't treated him so nefariously, he would have been the same still! Safe and sound and healthy!
At breakfast time, Henrietta came back, to look for her friend and inquire after the patient, and as Elizabeth still refused to leave the sickroom and continued to change the compresses, Henrietta sat down beside her. She listened to her friend's self-accuses, but shook her head eventually. "Lizzy, you must stop that. You've done what was right by you. No one can ask any more of you!"
"But it was all my doing, Hen, it was nobody but me! My selfishness, my self-will – when he dies, it will forever be nobody's fault but mine!"
"And what about these pirates attacking them? You're self-complacent, even in your grief, Lizzy. Look at it – you couldn't marry them both, can you?"
"You've scorned me, Hen, and I tried to ignore the utter truth in your mocking. I never admitted it out loud, but I do know that I had no right to tell him I would marry him, just to reach my aims. He would have helped me anyway, I know it! The Lieutenant was right this night – I've lied to myself, to make it easier for me, and I forgot about everybody else!"
"You're hysteric, dear. Why don't you go down and eat something, or better, lie down for an hour or two?"
Elizabeth shook her head vigorously. "No, I'll stay right here. I will not move out of this room and if it takes a whole month until he opens his eyes! Someone has to take care of the compresses –"
"I can do that, Lizzy. Come on, you know I can. I've nursed my mother when she had pneumonia three years ago, and look at her now!"
"But he doesn't matter to you, Hen," she croaked, suppressing tears now. "Nobody has ever cared for him the way he'd deserve, and I – I –"
Henrietta embraced her tentatively. "My dear Lizzy, calm yourself. No, he doesn't matter to me in the way that your beloved Will Turner matters to you, no one ever mattered to me like that. But if it comforts you – I wouldn't refuse a proposal of marriage from him – is that enough to render me a careful enough nurse, even for your standards?"
Elizabeth managed a smile, and received a serious, benevolent glance in return. "Go now, my dear, take a nap. I promise I shall wake you up in case he opens his eyes, and I will be most conscientiously changing the compresses each and every quarter. You can rely on me."
Reluctantly, but knowing that Henrietta was right, Elizabeth left the room with a last inquiring glance at the lifeless Commodore. Her father was waiting outside; it appeared that he had been too afraid to come in, and she couldn't say for whom he was more concerned – her or James. She managed to calm him in both cases, and as she wasn't tired, she resolved to drink a cup of coffee and take a walk in the garden before she would return to the sickbed. She was stirred up from her silent reverie when she heard a familiar voice behind her.
"I had to come and see how you are, Elizabeth!"
She turned around, and let herself fall into the arms of her fiancé. She did no longer try to fight the tears, it was as if a dam inside her had burst. Will held her tight, whispered words of comfort and love into her ears, stroked her back and did just everything that he could think of to alleviate her sorrows. Elizabeth calmed only slowly, incoherently telling him about the last night's events; he had heard enough down in the town to bring light into her story, and said after all, "Oh my sweet Elizabeth! So compassionate, so self-sacrificing!"
But she couldn't handle such confirmations of love now, let alone unjustified praise, and said impatiently, "And still it just won't do, Will! I've left Henrietta to look after him, but I have to get back –"
He smiled affectionately. "Yes, I wonder that you dared to go so far. Can Miss Van Dyke fulfil such duties?"
Elizabeth chuckled dryly. "Oh yes, she assured me how careful she'd be, and that she would wed him even!"
"What a lovely idea, isn't it? Like that, he'd be provided with a gracious, pretty woman and you wouldn't have to aggravate yourself any longer!" He laughed heartily, but Elizabeth couldn't find this remark any funny at all.
"Oh no, absolutely not," she replied sharply, "Firstly, it wouldn't excuse my awful behaviour against him, and secondly – Henrietta would never become a sailor's wife. Thirdly, I've never heard of a match more unsuitable; just imagine! Henrietta and James! Impossible!"
He chuckled with her fervour; finding that Elizabeth must know her friend better. It had only struck him like a good idea for a second, but more to distract her than for being serious. Well, judging her vexed expression, he had at least managed to distract her for a moment by irritating her.