Conjectures

Commodore Norrington was still smirking to himself when he had returned to the Van Dykes and was lying in his bed again. Although his skull seemed fit to burst, he couldn't but be amused, endeared even, by Elizabeth's fierce gratitude, almost driving away the pain. As soon as she had found him on his own, she had nearly jumped at him, hugging him tightly and repeating a dozen times, "Thank you! Oh, James! You were marvellous!"

He had denied that, and not only for modesty. Personally, he wasn't any proud of himself for what he had done today; to lie brazenly into his superior's – or anybody's – face wasn't like him. And he hadn't only done so to do Elizabeth a favour, more coincidentally so. For if the Admiral had found that Will Turner was after all no civilian, but a pirate – and after commandeering a Navy vessel, sailing out with other pirates and prevent the execution of one, he could well be suspected to be a pirate himself – in this case, the Governor's jurisdiction would have become powerless, and Mr Turner would have been handed over to the naval arm of justice. Which would get him hanged. Which would make Elizabeth devastated with mourning. And that must be prevented by all means.

Another man but the Commodore might have found it a good thing to see the man hanging who was to marry their own former fiancée, calculating that the young girl might in time change her mind. But such a man wouldn't have known Elizabeth; she would rather die an old maiden than marry him after Will Turner's execution. James knew her, and what was more: he wasn't the person for any such scheming either. He had always been straight forward, it shamed him to have lied today, but it would be the only time for the rest of his life, to be sure. But to see Elizabeth fading away with grief – and in this one respect, his conduct had been nothing but selfish indeed – no, he wouldn't endure to see it.

He found it a little intriguing to be praised with such fervour for his unexpected capacities of deceiving others; she had been delighted, crying, "Splendid! You should have seen yourself! Absolutely fabulous!"

They had got off very lightly; the Admiral had been so bewildered with a pirate crew of skeletons that he seemed more inclined to forgive the loss of two ships and a pirate than he would otherwise have tolerated. Gillette was sulking; James wasn't fooled about that. He had expected a promotion for himself, a degradation of the Commodore, and could not understand his own bad luck, feeling very ill-used, like always.

Elizabeth had never liked the Commodore's stiffness, as he had well known, but which also seemed so natural a part of him that he wouldn't have known how to strip it off, not even for her sake. He wondered whether she was aware that it was just his notorious reputation for being stiff that had saved her dear Will's neck from the rope? The whole story had been so unbelievable that he couldn't grasp himself how he had ever come away with it. It had been only the fact that he had told it, for the word 'sincere' seemed to be written all over his forehead somehow. But as long as the Admiral was still present and Gillette in a bad mood, it could all blow up yet. Gillette couldn't claim that James had lied, not that, but it wouldn't take much to point out the huge holes in the story either, and when the Admiral took a closer look… Better not think about it.

Well, now she was there, the Challenger, his new ship. She was indeed beautiful, a very good ship as far as he had seen – but she wasn't the Dauntless, and he couldn't care less about any golden trimming. Whoever it had been that had sunk the Dauntless would pay for that, and also in this respect, he was most satisfied with the Admiral's visit. At least some clue, finally! He could hardly wait for his full recovery, to be able to sail out and get those villains – not in vain, he was said to be the 'scourge of piracy' in the Eastern Caribbean. He had fought and won more battles than any other soldier of his age. He would find them, and he wasn't the least afraid of the next encounter. It was more than unlikely that this should also take place in the middle of a gigantic storm, and without the storm, they shouldn't have dared to mess with the Dauntless! He found that he owed his fame to his ship; it had been her power, her stability, her reliability enabling him to leave every battle as the winner.

Would the Challenger be only half as glorious? Golden trimmings! He sneered with the recollection of the trite effects of his new ship. Well, no matter what, when he found these scoundrels, he would get them, and if he died in pursuit of this aim. He wasn't scared of the pirate 'Commodore', as black as he might ever be painted. According to Admiral Thompson, he had forced some of his victims to cut off their own noses or ears and had made them eat their own flesh then. Others, he had hanged with the intestines of their dead comrades. He let himself be called 'Commodore Nero' and in that tradition, he had jumped on the Dutch Captain and stamped him to death.

Well, he was only a man, he could be killed like a man. The same was true for Commodore Norrington, all right, but this one found that he hadn't got anything else to lose than his life. He had lost everything that he loved already, only his life and honour had remained – if it cost his life to keep his honour and avenge the Dauntless, so it was to be.

Elizabeth couldn't know about the Commodore's musing, fortunately, as it would have scared her out of her wits. She was still thrilled with this day's events and relief. And she couldn't have been any prouder with dearest James – he had been fantastic, hadn't he? He had been slightly disturbed when she had congratulated him for being such a good liar – well, she should have chosen her words more carefully, of course, but nevertheless, it was true! She would never have thought him capable of it! Even though she had always been fully aware of his magnanimity, she was endlessly impressed with it now. He alone had kept Will from the gallows! That terrible Admiral, that had treated even her father like some insignificant stand-by, oh how she had wanted to scratch his eyes out! But James had stood up to him, he had; he hadn't been intimidated by the Admiral's scorn and conceit! Who did this Admiral Thompson think he was, anyway?!

Her father laughed about her exuberance. "My dearest Elizabeth! You needn't tell me about the Commodore! I know about his qualities very well!"

"We're forever indebted to him! I shall name my first son James – do you think he would approve of that?"

"I don't know how the Commodore would think about it, dear, but I suppose your husband could disapprove!"

"Nonsense! After all, it's his neck that's been saved here!"

"Furthermore I guess that you needn't worry about the name of your first son, my darling, so far, you're not even married, and the way it looks, you have another decade to contemplate your future children's names!"

She stopped and gave him a grave look, knowing that he was just too right to even argue about it. Even if Will was to find a gold treasure on some godforsaken island, it would take two years until he was of age at least. Two years! And until that – oh well!

"Father," she said a bit calmer, "Don't spoil it, will you? I'm having a ball here! This is a great day, James has been fantastic, and just think of it – he's ill yet! How well he behaved!"

"Speaking of good behaviour, my dear – do you think it proper to call the Commodore by his first name?"

"I don't say it to his face," she murmured with a soft blush, remembering all the occasions that rendered this statement a white lie. Her father shook his head, but smiled. His dearest girl lacked some proper manners; perhaps this was because she hadn't had a mother to look up to. For Mary had been just as high-spirited and vigorous as her daughter, but her manners had been impeccable still; his beloved Mary hadn't been inconsiderate or rash at all. Quick, yes, just like Elisabeth was, but never so unguarded.

He indeed knew full well that the Commodore had been more than just a gentleman today. He was impressed. This fine man could have been his son-in-law, and he still had to sigh when thinking of it. He had accustomed to Will Turner, he was a kind and amiable boy, yes. But the Commodore had been a man, excellent in every aspect! Well, the Governor still hadn't given up his last hope that Elizabeth might become attached to the Captain at least. This one wasn't quite as genteel as Commodore Norrington, admittedly, but Governor Swann wouldn't fret about that. He was worried; Elizabeth needed somebody she could look up to, somebody with sense and respectability, somebody who wasn't ruled by her own follies. And this was just the problem with the Turner boy – he was as young as her, he submitted himself to any of her moods, he had no influence on her whatsoever.

This entire engagement had made her even more unbalanced; she was moody and quick-tempered, and for some mysterious reasons, she was still cross with her friend Henrietta, which was most regrettable. Miss Van Dyke had corrected many of Elizabeth's little flimsies, without making much ado, and Elizabeth had trusted her superior understanding. She also quarrelled with her fiancé, she was unsatisfied with this, and impatient about that – maybe the Governor should have been content with this, but he wasn't. In his eyes, this only seemed to prove that his daughter was going a dangerous way, and he couldn't say where it was to end.

In the fort, Admiral Thompson spent the evening with Captain Filister and Lieutenant Gillette. But while the first two were eagerly chatting about the weird business of this curse, Lieutenant Gillette was getting exceedingly unsatisfied; he had seen these skeletons, the topic was absolutely uninteresting from his perspective. Additionally, he felt outcast by the others, who knew each other of old and had, apart from Captain Barbossa's cursed pirates, a whole lot of mutual friends to discuss.

Frankly, he had expected more of the Admiral, he was perplexed with his Commodore, disappointed with his cousin – it was all just too vexing! Without particularly relating to anything the others were talking about, he suddenly muttered, "Admiral, has it occurred to you that the Commodore might be in league with these pirates?"

The Captain and the Admiral stared at him, and the latter asked, "Beg your pardon, Lieutenant?"

Gillette put up what he meant to be a superior smile. "Think about it! Jack Sparrow escaping, losing the Dauntless, and some miraculous rescue from a godforsaken island – doesn't this smell a bit fishy?"

Filister rolled his eyes, and the Admiral asked, irritated, "You accuse Commodore Norrington of collaborating with that Jack Sparrow? And what has this got to do with the Dauntless?"

"Perhaps it was Sparrow who attacked the Dauntless? Or – right! Perhaps it hasn't really sunk, but he gave it to Sparrow! As a reward for something!"

"Henry!"

"Are you drunk, Lieutenant?"

"Honestly, Henry, just think what you're saying," the Captain said, somewhat repelled.

"But why? It makes perfect sense! And afterwards, they've thought of the excuse with the Dutch merchant vessels!" Gillette had warmed up, totally ignoring his cousin's mimicking at him to shut up, or the Admiral's rising anger.

"Lieutenant Gillette! I believe we already discussed that matter exhaustingly! Did you listen to me this morning? I have found only two sources telling me about those pirates in the whole Caribbean, and believe me, I have put lots of effort into my investigations! I dare say I am the first British officer to have brought a little light in this. How would the Commodore have known about them, eh?"

"Well, Sparrow's a pirate, too, so maybe he has heard about them, and told Norrington –"

"Commodore Norrington, Lieutenant! And then, just as an alibi, the Commodore let himself be hit over the head with a plank that almost got him killed? And take two minor Sergeants with him?"

"Oh well –"

"Serving under Commodore Norrington for so long, I would have expected you to know about his achievements better than anyone! Do you have any idea how many pirates he has captured?! Accusing him of playing one of theirs' game – ridiculous!"

"I assure you," Captain Filister tried to calm the Admiral, shooting Gillette a filthy glance. "Nobody wants to accuse the good Commodore of any compliance, Lieutenant Gillette gets a bit carried away here –"

"I'm not," Gillette retorted stubbornly, "and more, I'm still not convinced that it's not Sparrow after all leading this bunch in disguise, that sailor you've talked to might have erred about the exact time –"

Captain Filister gestured quite rudely at him, but the Admiral only laughed contemptuously. "Sparrow! Didn't you meet that man yourself, Gillette?! He's no butcher, and I must know, after all he sacked Nassau Port without firing a single shot five years ago! Sparrow is a crook, somebody who'd try to sell you a blade that he's stolen from you yesterday! And he's proud, not to say vain, he wants his name to be known – this pirate would never use another name but his own! This Spanish sailor did not err in his story, I've made sure about that! The 'Isabella', said Spanish gold frigate – left Mérida on the First of July, calculate yourself how long it may have taken them to reach San Antonio!"

"Sir, with all due respect – you really don't find it odd that it should be that Jack Sparrow fishing the Commodore out of the water after the loss of the Dauntless, after she had tried to find him for twelve weeks without any success?!" Gillette had lowered his voice a little, but he was determined to make the Admiral see his point. He was exasperated with everyone's praise for Norrington, who was in his eyes a bit of an idiot, and he couldn't see why he received no help whatsoever from his cousin, he had meant that he should help him at least!

"I don't find this half as odd as you, obviously! As I've said – Sparrow is a sly dog, if he doesn't want to be found, he won't be! I sent half of the fleet after him after he raided Nassau, to find me this man, and they all came back without a single trace! But what he is, too, is a sort of sportsman – he would want to beat the Commodore on his own grounds, not by letting him die shipwrecked. The only thing proven by this coincidence is that Commodore Norrington had a good nose to look for him in this part of the sea, and that he got pretty close before the Dauntless was destroyed!"

"You're too gullible, Admiral!"

"Come on, Henry, the next thing you accuse him of is being an agent for the Spanish crown, eh?" Filister sniggered, pouring some more booze for them all.

"With all due respect, Sir, but please consider that you might have been mistaken in the nature of your officers! Commodore Norrington, for an instance –"

"Henry, I really think you should go to bed," Captain Filister said with a strained voice, "It's been a long, hard day, and you're clearly exhausted with it. Go now, before you say more things that you will regret in the morning!"

He had got up and dragged the struggling Gillette away, mumbling, "Excuse me for five minutes, Sir!"

When he returned, he smiled wryly, "Excuse me once again, Admiral. I don't know what's got into him. Maybe he's a little frustrated, I believe he hoped to receive a promotion."

Admiral Thompson snorted, "A promotion! What for? And by slandering Commodore Norrington of all persons?! That man is as solid as iron! Why should he fraternise with a pirate?! He's a made man, how many Commodores have you come across being only thirty-one? He's rich, he's as high-ranked as one could be in his age – I was a Captain yet with thirty-two! – and most of all, he's as uptight as a nun, for heaven's sake! That man couldn't be converted if you offered him all the gold of the Spanish crown!"

"I know, Sir, I know. I mean, I don't know him too well, personally, but everything I've heard about him – apparently, the people here regard him as some sort of saint."

"And righteously so! Do you know what kind of place this was ten years ago? The Governor is a dim-wit, typical for his profession. Puffing himself up as if he was still holding court in his old-English estate, I'm afraid he hasn't even got a clue that this is the new world here!"

"Like Governor Foster," Filister exclaimed and grinned roguishly, speaking of the Governor of Nassau. He despised Governor Foster just as much as Admiral Thompson did – yes, he knew the Admiral of old, and knew how to steer the conversation into more shallow waters.

"Exactly like Governor Foster!" Thompson cried satisfied. "Have I told you about his latest ideas concerning…"

Around the same time, Commodore Norrington sat together with his friend Chandler, who had come to the Van Dykes in the evening. They discussed the new ships – the Commodore found his scorn about the golden trimmings shared by Chandler – but mostly, they spoke of 'Commodore Nero' and his darned fleet.

"One would think that somebody must have heard of them!"

"Not if there are never any survivors, Sir! Many ships just vanish and nobody ever hears of them again, they might enter in a storm, or be destroyed by pirates, and if they are – who can say who's done it afterwards?"

"Yes, yes, I know, but – he must get a crew somewhere… Has Sparrow said anything about it, perhaps? I bet he knows every shady tavern in the whole Caribbean!"

"I hardly talked to him, Sir. I was mostly in the cabin, with you."

"How often did I tell you, Robert? You needn't call me 'Sir' when we're among ourselves. So what about those Sergeants? What did they do?"

"Oh, they surely talked a lot to the crew, I think, but they are – well, they aren't very bright, are they? Most of the time, they let this Mr Gibbs tell them ghost stories. Do you remember Mr Gibbs?"

"Gibbs, Gibbs – rings a bell with me…"

"He signed on the Dauntless some years ago. Weird fellow, superstitious to the bone, and usually drunk!"

"Oh! Yes, now I know who you mean! Mr Gibbs, of course! He has signed on with Captain Sparrow? Well, what did I expect, anyway!"

"Damn good sailor," Chandler mused with a little smile, "but he clearly had some difficulties with authority!"

"And with liquor, Chandler, I think that was his major problem! So, Mr Gibbs talked to our Sergeants, did he? He always used to talk a lot, if I remember correctly. I wonder what he might have told them?"

Chandler blushed self-consciously. "I did not ask them. I've thought it to be insignificant."

"Can't blame you. But I shall like to have a word with them, as soon as possible. If only Miss Swann doesn't hear that I've left my bed again." He smiled softly. "She'd scold me back into it at once!"

"Miss Swann! Who is she to tell you off!" Chandler snarled, like always vexed with the Governor's daughter.

"Ah, leave her alone, Robert. She's a bit over-protective lately, that's all."

"Now she cares how you are doing! Silly little girl! Serves her right to have a bad conscience!"

"Nah, don't speak of her like that. She's fine just like she is, a bit fierce sometimes, though I'm sure that will settle sooner or later. Her engagement to Mr Turner seems to do her quite well already."

Chandler raised his brows. "You think so?"

"Yes, indeed." James tried to make a calm face, keen not to betray how this particular subject still stirred him as much as ever. "She was always quite, well – reserved maybe, but lately, she's loosened up remarkably –"

"Should have stuck to her reserve, if you ask me! After all I've heard – she's terrible to Miss Van Dyke, for example, and the poor Miss doesn't even know the reason!"

James looked thoughtful. "Yes, I've observed that. I even asked her about it, but she wouldn't tell me anything about it. Who knows what young ladies do quarrel about? She will relax again, I'm sure."

"You are too indulgent with her, James, if you allow me to say so!"

"No, I don't actually." But he smirked nevertheless, if ever so wryly. "Besides, I have no reason to be severe with her. She behaves very well against me."

"She better does!" Chandler muttered indignantly, and pulled himself together. "So what about – Miss Van Dyke?"

"Miss Van Dyke? Oh! Oh, I remember! You want me to marry Miss Van Dyke, don't you?"

Chandler evaded the question and murmured, "She is a very fine lady, Sir, I just thought…"

"I can't argue with that, Robert. But I'd beg you to leave me some time to think about all this, will you? It's not so long ago that I asked the last young lady to marry me, I don't think it was proper to ask the next one so soon!"

"But you will ask her?"

The Commodore laughed. "Heavens, you're really determined to find me a wife, are you? I thank you for your efforts, but I really think I will manage on my own!"

"Of course, Sir," Chandler looked away in embarrassment, not happy with these answers at all. He wished the Commodore would plainly say whether he was about to propose to Miss Van Dyke or not, it would have saved his friend a good deal of disquieted nights!