Hung Up

The morning was as warm as every other in this part of the world, and peaceful. Port Royal had settled to be a rather sleepy town in the last years, the presence of a whole fort of soldiers kept scoundrels away and let the citizens attend to their daily business unconcerned. This peace however was disturbed at eight o'clock, when Sergeant Christopher McKenzie gave a shrill scream and by this raised his fellow officers' attention –

"Mary mother of Jesus, the Lord bless us all!"

At five past eight, Lieutenant Robert Chandler entered Lieutenant Gillette's room and stopped dead in his tracks with what he saw, crossing himself and ordering some of his men to inform the Admiral, Captain Filister and the Commodore – for Lieutenant Gillette was dead, dangling from a rope in his room. He wore his uniform, his wig even, that had slipped sideways a bit, without doubt due to the throes of death. Lieutenant Chandler swallowed hard with the sight and shook his head.

In general, the shock was much greater than the grief; the Lieutenant hadn't been very popular. Only few understood why on earth he should have killed himself in the first place, among those Admiral Thompson; more annoyed than affected, he murmured harshly, "That fool!"

Commodore Norrington, leaving his sickbed once again, was a bit more delicate, and genuinely dismayed. Had Gillette really been so desperate for a promotion? He found it excessively tragic that a man's ambition should overcome his common sense in such a tragic fashion, and he felt a sting of guilt himself. He had always been firm in his unwillingness to assist Gillette making his way up; he had found him unpleasant and rather useless, scolding himself now for this, perhaps premature and biased, judgement. To hang oneself – for the lack of a Captain's title?! That wasn't worth it! James Norrington himself was a grieved man, but never in his life, he had contemplated any such possibility for himself, God beware.

The only person in Port Royal whose reaction wasn't one of shock but of gloom was Captain Filister. He looked at his cousin's corpse that had been untied by now and was lying on the bed, in something like resigned sadness and he muttered quietly, "Oh, Henry… I had hoped it would take a better end with you –"

The Commodore arrived, paler than anyway, staring at the dead boy like everybody before him, and ordering to bring him away and make him ready for the funeral. If nothing else had been specified, sailors were usually given a funeral at sea, which would also spare an awkward discussion with Reverend Martin, who was sure to object burying him within the churchyard. Suicides were denied to lie in consecrated grounds. God bless his soul nevertheless.

When the Admiral, Commodore Norrington, Captain Filister and Lieutenant Chandler were alone, the Admiral vented his anger quite verbosely, "This damned idiot! Is't possible?! He wasn't in good shape, admittedly, and I had the distinct impression that he didn't know his own good, but –"

He exchanged a look with the Captain, who muttered glumly, "It's all my fault, I shouldn't have left him alone yesterday…"

"Nonsense!" the Admiral cried. "You couldn't have anticipated that, Captain! Granted, he made a fool of himself, but that's no reason to sin against the Lord! If he was ready to do himself, why didn't he wait for a battle at least and mustered some bravery for a good cause?!"

The Commodore had observed this little exchange and now asked quietly what they were referring to. Filister waved dismissively. "Nothing, nothing. He had a glass too much yesterday, that's all –"

Admiral Thompson had less tact, and sneering with the recollection of the last evening, informed Norrington and Chandler about it. The former smirked sadly, while the latter seemed to battle with himself not to speak badly about the dead, and the Admiral finished, "Don't aggravate yourself, Commodore, it's not worth it!"

It were always the servants who first heard about things; Mrs Peacock, the Governor's cook had heard it on the market, she had told the story to every other servant in the house, and by ten o'clock, Estella, Miss Swann's chambermaid, passed it on to her mistress.

Elizabeth clasped her mouth, her eyes wide, and whispered, "Good Lord! Gillette?! And yesterday morning, he still seemed so fond of his new ship!"

She hadn't liked the Lieutenant, she had avoided to talk to him if she had had the chance, but this did not mean that she had wished him bad. Indeed, she wouldn't have begrudged him to sail with the Falcon at least once, he surely would have enjoyed it; perhaps it would have been enough to keep him from doing something so desperate…

Poor James! Certainly, he had been forced out of his bed once again to take care of everything; how should he ever get better like this?! How pale he had been yesterday, he must be even worse now! This was going to wear him out completely!

The lady who was principally watching over the Commodore's state of health might have been equally worried, but in any case, she found that it was not her place to interfere with his decisions. She could also understand that his presence in the fort was imperative on a day like this; and finally, she thought that he was a grown man, he would know what was good for him, and what was necessary. She had of course heard what had happened in the night, when an overtaxed Sergeant had appeared this morning to inform his Commodore. She was bewildered, she was sad for the Lieutenant, but most of all, she was intrigued.

This was all very strange, wasn't it? Like Miss Swann, she wondered why he had done this just now. If he had hoped for a promotion – the Admiral was to stay two more days, perhaps he would still have made up his mind? And even if Gillette had not been made a Captain this time around – he still would have captained the Falcon, wouldn't he? The only other officer who would have been fit for it was Lieutenant Chandler, who was to sail with Commodore Norrington anyway for the time being. He was younger than Gillette had been, and had more than once expressed his wish to stay with the Commodore. She hadn't yet heard about the little row between Lieutenant Gillette and Admiral Thompson, and even when she at last heard about it, she saw no sufficient foundation in it to end one's life. Lieutenant Chandler had paid the Commodore a visit in the evening and after this one had lain down, she sat with the Lieutenant in the parlour and talked.

When she heard about Gillette's outburst, she arched a brow. "Now that's vile, isn't it?"

"It is," snorted her visitor, "I wouldn't have imagined how far that man would have gone just to reach his aims!"

"I wonder what made him come up with such a story," the lady said thoughtfully.

"Well, that's obvious, isn't it? He wanted to slander the Commodore to become Head of the fort!"

"Yes, I imagine that, but – it's such a weird idea! Not only to accuse Commodore Norrington of all people, but the whole scenario to begin with!"

"I hadn't meant him to possess a very vivid imagination either, but I've clearly been wrong!" Chandler took it very personal to see the Commodore abused so slanderously. He himself had the highest regard for his superior and would have defended the man's honour anytime, just like he had swum three naval miles with him on his back.

"A vivid imagination, yes, perhaps. I shouldn't speak ill of a dead man, I know, but – he always struck me to be rather dull, no? If he had wanted to discredit Commodore Norrington, it would merely have taken some hints about Mr Sparrow's escape, right? I understood that the whole story wasn't very plausible –" She smiled slyly. "And all for the sake of Mr. Turner!"

They had spoken about the whole story the evening before, and Chandler was a little puzzled. "I don't think I get what you mean, Miss?"

"I mean that Lieutenant Gillette would have come further if he had stuck to facts, instead of inventing horror stories! That's another sign of being not particularly cunning, isn't it? And for a man so obviously lacking wits, his story is remarkable! Think about it – a high-ranking officer, conspiring with some pirates to cut some deals, the idea that Mr Sparrow was disguising himself to be these pirates' leader – peculiar for a man who wasn't famous for being inventive. Why didn't he realise that he would make a fool of himself like that?"

"According to Captain Filister, he had drunk a few glasses too much!"

"But drunkards, as weird as they may ever be otherwise, become more, not less honest!"

"I still don't understand what you're trying to hint at, I'm afraid."

She shrugged and gave him a smile. "Nothing really. I'm simply amazed, I guess. But let us speak no more of these unpleasant things. When will Admiral Thompson leave us, then?"

"He will attend the funeral ceremonies tomorrow morning and leave in the afternoon."

"And the Captain?"

"The same, more or less, but the Fortuna will take a detour to Santo Domingo before returning to Nassau Port."

"And when are you going to put to sea again?"

"Probably as soon as the Commodore's condition allows it, Miss. He is determined to capture those villains who destroyed the Dauntless."

For a second, Miss Van Dyke's eyes darkened, but in the next second she smiled again. "I see. I do hope that you return safely and soon, then!"

Chandler sighed inwardly; the fair Miss was worried for the Commodore… Understandable, of course, but it made him a little sad nevertheless. He was cross with himself for feeling so; what was wrong with him, after all? He, too, was worried for the Commodore's state of health, and didn't underestimate the threat posed by these unknown pirates. Why would it sting him so badly that the young lady felt the same?

In the next morning, the Challenger took her first official journey – if it could be called that – with its new Commander and crew. They didn't fare very far, and the Commodore held a short, but nonetheless solemn speech for the actual funeral. Then Lieutenant Gillette's remains were given to the sea, the Challenger returned to the harbour around noon, and after a last lunch, it was time to say farewell. The Captain wasn't quite as high-spirited as otherwise, but not too gloomy either – not even he had liked his cousin too much, apparently. The Admiral was snappish and short-tempered as ever, briskly advising the Commodore to take better care of his new ships than he had of his old ones – Miss Swann wanted to jump at him for this remark, but Commodore Norrington mustered a smile and answered that he would, and in fifteen minutes, it was all over.

Governor Swann saw his only hope sail away, sighed and muttered, "He was such an exceedingly pleasant man, the Captain!"

"A bit too pleasant, don't you think?" returned his daughter in soft boredom, but her father mistook this comment entirely, and thought to himself that there might be a reunion with that 'too pleasant man' one day; he could only pray that it was before she had got married to the young craftsman.

Elizabeth didn't perceive any of her father's feelings on the subject, all her focus lay on the Commodore who was standing in full ornate on the dock, saluting, and she was concerned that all of this running about could only damage him. They walked back to the fort together, and she urged him to return to bed immediately, but he gave a little laugh and shook his head. "Oh, Miss Swann, I'm afraid I have to disappoint you! With the Captain gone, I will return to my duties, and that also means that I will stay here in the fort. No more leisure and compresses!"

"What? But –" She didn't know whether she was more pleased or shocked. Return to the fort meant leaving the Van Dykes, which could only be good considering Henrietta's scheming, but exchanging his rest for his duties was most alarming indeed! "But you must be careful, James! Promise you'll take care of yourself! You mustn't risk anything! I'm sure, good Lieutenant Chandler can represent you some days more!"

He chuckled. "I'm sure he can. But you needn't worry; I assure you I'm doing much better already. How could I not be, after so much good care?"

He meant her own nursing and advice, but she could only think of Henrietta, feeling mortified, and was very quick to change the topic. "So how did you like the Challenger? Is she as fine as the Dauntless?"

"She's a very good ship, without doubt. But it's hard to say, I have to accustom to her yet."

"The Dauntless was a splendid ship. She'll be hard to match!"

He was pleased to hear such words of compassion. "Very true! Nevertheless, she's lost forever, so I have to accustom to the Challenger anyway, whether I like it or not."

Elizabeth bit her lip, clueless why she bothered at all, while Commodore Norrington was torn between wistful memories of his beloved, lost ship and the notion how gratified he was in fact that his other lost love was at least still around him. That she was his friend – he had meant that he would not endure it, but he had to see that he couldn't have done without her either.

It was all very confusing. For many years, he had admired her, and they had been on good terms, as good as the family of a provincial town's Governor would get along with the Head of the belonging fort. They had conversed civilly, had danced together when there was a ball, and seen each other frequently. But all the time, Elizabeth had been rather aloof, friendly, kind, but never anything like liberal. Their short engagement hadn't changed anything about this – they hadn't even kissed. Not that he hadn't wanted to kiss her – but then, he hadn't seen anything like encouragement on her part for such a bold move.

But ever since his injury, ever since he had opened his eyes again in her father's house, Elizabeth didn't seem to be the old one. She had loosened up, in a manner of speaking; she talked to him as if they were the best of friends, she confided in him, she smirked and laughed and joked. He terribly enjoyed this change within her, he relished her company above all other – and he was angry with himself because of this weakness. He knew that he had to get her out of his head. Just that her new attitude made it even more difficult for him to do so. She had been sweet and amiable before, but nowadays, she was simply stupendous, she overwhelmed him so completely that he didn't know how to help himself when she was around him.