The Sergeants' Story

"Sergeant Murtogg, Sergeant Mullroy – I have some questions that I hope you can answer!"

The two officers felt exceedingly uneasy about the situation on the whole. To be called to the Head of the fort and his deputy could mean nothing good, but as hard as they racked their brains, they couldn't think of anything they had done wrong lately! So they just tried to appear as servile as they could, in fact they looked like two donkeys in lightning. Commodore Norrington was aware of the intimidating effect and, as far as he was concerned, did his best to appear friendly and inviting, but this frightened the officers only more. They couldn't remember to have seen the Commodore smile ever before; what could he mean by it, was this the calm before the storm… In short – it was hopeless.

The Commodore exchanged a few looks with Lieutenant Chandler, so the latter addressed them, "Sirs, what we would like to know is – on the time on board of the Black Pearl – have you talked to Captain Sparrow or any other of his men?"

"No, Sir!" both replied with arrow speed, provoking their superiors to groan.

"Let us begin anew," the Commodore sighed. "Firstly, let me assure you that you are not here because of any accusation or whatever else you obviously believe to be the reason. So whatever you say will not be the foundation for any punishment or reprimand whatsoever. Have you understood that?"

It was always right to nod and say 'Aye, Sir' when a superior officer was speaking like that, but as a matter of fact, he had spoken too quickly and too marked, and he could have said the exact opposite, they would still have retorted, "Aye, Sir!"

"Very well. So in the entire ten days on the Black Pearl, you have not spoken to any member of the crew?"

"Aye, Sir!"

They weren't getting anywhere like that, and it took all powers of persuasion which Commodore Norrington and Lieutenant Chandler could muster until the Sergeants finally confessed to have spoken 'a word or two' to the crew. These few words turned out to be enough to fill some books, and once the two men had begun talking, it was hard to make them stop again.

"Mr Murtogg," the Commodore groaned and tried hard not to roll his eyes, "mermaids aren't exactly what I was looking for. But what I wish to hear is this – has Mr Gibbs told you any story about a man styling himself as 'Commodore Nero'? Or any pirate unknown to him trying to pick up a crew?"

"Commodore Nero? Is he an English officer?"

"He's no officer by any rate, but apparently he is English. So did Mr Gibbs mention him?"

"Let me think…"

They could see it working in Sergeant Mullroy's face, and even more in his comrade's; James counted inwardly to ten to stay calm, a grin was frozen on his lips. Patience, he reminded himself, be patient. The Lieutenant was less successful and snapped, "Well, has he?!"

"No," Mullroy drawled, his eyes narrowed and clearly still thinking, "I think he's spoken of an English officer though."

"That's not the sort of tale we were looking for," Commodore Norrington moaned, but the Lieutenant looked attentively and made an encouraging gesture.

"Well, a guy who was thought to be an English officer, more like," Mullroy mused loudly, "who would go looking for a crew."

"Yeah," his colleague grinned, recollecting, "Tried it in Tortuga, but no one quite trusted him –"

James was at a total loss what these two morons could possibly be talking about, but Chandler asked, "Pick up a crew? For what?"

"Well, what sort of people are in Tortuga, Sir – for a pirate ship of course!"

"And why do you say he was an officer?"

"Please, Commodore, it's not me saying that! I know that no English officer would go to Tortuga and – it was Mr Gibbs who said it."

"Wore no uniform either," Murtogg mumbled, "We've asked him about that."

"But why did Mr Gibbs think him to be an officer then?"

"Because of the way he spoke and moved, said he. Did you know, Mr Gibbs was in the Navy once, too?"

"Yes," the Commodore said wryly, "That would make another former English officer turn pirate then, I guess!"

"But Mr Gibbs was no officer, was he? He doesn't sound like an officer, doesn't speak like it."

"And how does an officer sound?"

"Like you, Sir. You know, well-spoken, and pronounced. Not like us. Somebody who's been in a good school!" Murtogg said ingenuously.

Chandler and the Commodore exchanged a quick glance, and the former asked, "That's quite the story we were looking for, Mr Murtogg. Go on!"

"Not much to say about it, is there?"

He looked at his comrade, who shook his head, murmuring, "Just that, I would have forgotten already. Didn't believe it anyway – an English officer pick-"

"Did Mr Gibbs say when this was? Or how the man looked?" Chandler cut him short.

"Did he? Well, it was before Mr Gibbs signed on the Black Pearl, sure –"

"Long before." Mullroy nodded. "Didn't he say it was before the great fire?"

"Right! Directly before the great fire, that's what he said! And that, had he known what was to come with the town, he'd rather have signed on with the weird guy than stay!"

Commodore Norrington tried to remember when a great inferno had destroyed half of Tortuga, this must have happened perhaps eighteen months ago, but still, he couldn't see why Chandler seemed to take so much interest in this story. "Well, perhaps it was a Privateer? These are gentlemen as well, mostly, speaking proper English!"

"No, Sir. They don't move like an officer."

To his greatest astonishment, it was neither Murtogg nor Mullroy, but Lieutenant Chandler who said that. The young officer looked very thoughtful, and catching his superior's curious glance, he went on, "There's a considerable difference in the movements. You can see whether a man is a Navy officer or not, they walk very upright, very stiff, shoulders back and all this."

The sergeants nodded eagerly, and James took a deep breath. His minor ranks confirmed him to walk stiff, Elizabeth found him to be stiff – charming, wasn't it. Perhaps he should just get used to be a stiff old bore, after all.

Chandler asked some more questions, but the Sergeants couldn't answer to any of them, and were dismissed. After they had left, the Commodore shot his deputy some quizzical looks. "Since when do you fancy to hear some sailor's yarn, Robert?"

This one seemed to wake up from his musing, "Oh – because of something Miss Van Dyke said to me the other day…"

He waited for further explanations, but Chandler seemed deeply lost in thoughts, so they parted without further ado. The Commodore was disappointed; he had hoped that this investigation would be good for more, but then, what had he expected to come from two rather dull officers and a notorious drunkard like Mr Gibbs?

He took out the Naval Reports and started listing conscientiously all ships that had left some Caribbean harbour in the past twelve month and had failed to reach their destination, he continued with ships from the Spanish Main, made another list for reports of great storms, and when he was through, he compared his list with a map.

Meanwhile, the Lieutenant couldn't explain to himself why he was so excited; probably, the entire story was wholly unfounded, but… He was on to something, he felt it for sure, but wondering in the same moment if this was only a pathetic excuse to visit Miss Van Dyke once more. Whatever the true reason was, he went over to the Van Dykes, and the lovely Miss smiled brightly when he was announced. "Lieutenant Chandler! How pleasant to see you!" she welcomed him. "I had been afraid that we shouldn't meet again so soon, after the Commodore left us! How are you?"

He sat down with her, a bit awkward, but she did not appear to notice, listening attentively when he related the conversation with the two Sergeants to her. "After your words the other day, it somehow caught my attention," he finished lamely, anxious what she would say, or whether she would laugh at him. But she did nothing of that sort. Instead she asked casually, "Do you happen to know when it was exactly, this great fire in Tortuga?"

Yes, he had looked it up before coming and could proudly give her the date; in September, it was two years ago.

"Does it happen often that a high-ranking officer leaves service?"

He thought about it for a moment and shrugged then, "Not really, no… Not in this sense, anyhow. I couldn't think of one right now. Sometimes, when badly injured, they drop out and go back home to England. But in such a case, they can't sail any longer for one reason or other, and are taken over by another ship then. Lieutenant Crawford, for example – you might remember him? He was blinded in battle and taken back to his family to care for him."

"Can they be expelled?"

"Yes, well, they can, but practically, that's very rare. To punish an officer for a minor errant, he gets degraded; if the nature of the crime is severe, he will be imprisoned or executed straight away."

"So what you basically say is that it's pretty unlikely for an English officer of rank to just drop out and find himself a new career, right?"

"Quite unlikely, yes."

"So – as long as they are in service – do they have some, well, leisure time? I mean, enough time to sail to Tortuga for example, pick up a crew and pilfer a bit until returning home?" He couldn't suppress a laugh with the mere idea, and she returned it ingeniously. "Well, could they?"

"No, Miss, I honestly can't imagine it! Of course, as long as a ship is on sea, nobody at home can say for sure where they are exactly, or what they're doing, but sooner or later, they come home again. And then, they have to report about their absence. Such an officer as you describe here – he might try to lie to his superior, but he's still got a whole crew of officers and sailors who can tell whether he has lied or not. Picture the situation – nobody can just leave a ship for some days like that, so he would have to take them with him, and they would know what he's doing. No, no, it's impossible, I assure you!"

"Still there is a report of such a man." She lifted her forefinger and gesticulated with it. "And if we acknowledge it for a minute to be a true report, we must think of a possibility how he manages to come to Tortuga and look for a crew of pirates, and what he could do with them then."

"I have no idea whatsoever, Miss!"

"Neither have I, I was only reminded of Lieutenant Gillette's strange stories, which have somehow led us to this point in the first place… Remind me, what exactly did he insinuate? That the Commodore was making some deals with pirates, right? With Captain Sparrow, to be precise, and that Captain Sparrow could be this mysterious pirate in disguise?"

He was shocked and gasped, "Miss Van Dyke, you don't seriously mean to say – I assure you –"

"No, no! Heaven forbid!" She shook her head vigorously. "I do not mean to say anything relating to Commodore Norrington himself! Do not get me wrong there! All I try is a concise recollection of what Lieutenant Gillette has said then, or what you know about it anyway. For whatever it was – in this night, the poor Lieutenant was so troubled that he ended up killing himself, so we must assume that his spirits were very shaken, don't you think?"

"You are very right, Miss Van Dyke, both with what you say about Gillette and his insinuations. But what do you make of it now?"

"Well, nothing actually, I come to no conclusion at all. Still it is exceedingly odd – Gillette accusing the Commodore to be in league with pirates, and from a very different quarter, we get a report of some nameless officer doing exactly that what Gillette tried to blame Commodore Norrington for. I'm absolutely sure that the Lieutenant merely tried to discredit the Commodore with the Admiral, but as you remember, I found it very curious how he should have come up with such a story. What, if there was a grain of truth in it? What, if Lieutenant Gillette told this story that is so hard to believe for any sensible person, because he knew it to have happened in fact? Not with the Commodore, of course, whatever I say, never mistake me to speak of the Commodore. I know he is a very good man!"

Chandler was pained to hear this just praise – yes, the pretty Miss Van Dyke admired the Commodore, and how could she not. They were destined for each other! He was so distraught by this melancholic reflection that he could hardly follow her conclusions, so he simply nodded and sighed.

She hesitated for a moment, her finger tipping against her lips. "Forgive me for uttering such a thought now, Lieutenant Chandler, but – could Lieutenant Gillette have done something like that? Could it have been him who went into this tavern in Tortuga?"

He goggled at her, stunned by the remark, but gave it a good thought then. "No," he finally said. "For once, I should know if he had been around the area of Tortuga with the Interceptor. But more importantly – Mr Gibbs, who told the story in the first place, was a sailor on the Dauntless himself, some years ago. Mr Gibbs knows Lieutenant Gillette and would certainly have recognised him, with or without uniform. And if he had recognised him, he would have told the Sergeants about it, don't you think?"

"True," she said slowly. "Now what about this… It is a very strange coincidence, if you think about it, that a ship such as the Dauntless, said to be almost invincible, gets trapped by a storm and encounters those hostile ships in the same night. And then, only shortly afterwards, the only survivors are rescued by the very ship that you set out to capture in the first place."

"It's strange indeed."

"I wonder… Please, pardon me for bothering you with my private dealings, but – since your return, I did wonder why – mmh – well, my old friend Miss Swann is acting strange, and hearing all these accounts now, I ask myself whether Miss Swann might not think the same like me, and that… Well, that her strange behaviour is due to the fact that she feels guilty for – uh – helping Mr Sparrow escape, and then this one pays her back for her support by almost killing his persecutors –"

"Miss Van Dyke, if there is one thing I am truly sure of – and it is weird for me to say this in this particular case – but I am absolutely sure that Captain Sparrow has nothing to do with the destruction of the Dauntless. He was so close because we had nearly tracked him down, and then he saw our fire. Look at it – all other arguments aside, it would make little sense that Captain Sparrow had conspired with some others to attack the Dauntless, and then, a little later, volunteers to save us and actually ship us back to Port Royal."

"Perhaps this was part of his overall plan – or – right. Or he thought that his might not be the only ship spotting your signal, and that he'd better be the one rescuing you, to disperse all possible suspicions against him!"

He laughed and shook his head. "Oh, as if it mattered. Why should he want to disperse any suspicions at all? He's got a death sentence pronounced upon himself, it could not get worse for him at any rate. Having said this, I should also mention that Admiral Thompson found a similar attack taking place close to San Antonio, while the Black Pearl was here, in Port Royal. Whatever else you accuse him of, this couldn't have been his doing."

She tilted her pretty head. "Oh, yes, I see… Well, this is probably just me, trying to make sense of my friend Elizabeth's behaviour… I guess I'm seeing ghosts here and that's just all!"

"What a pity that we can no longer ask Lieutenant Gillette about it. I bet the Commodore would have loved to hear what he had got to say!"

"He'd simply have denied to know anything at all. He would have claimed that it had been nothing but a wretched idea coming to him out of thin air. Besides, just imagine, the Commodore inquiring for the slanders about himself! Gillette would have denied to have said anything at all, and that he must have been grossly mistaken!"

"He'd surely have. But he wasn't very apt, and even if my Commodore is too good himself to suspect others of crimes that he thinks to be impossible – I guess I would have seen whether he had lied or not. I do pride myself to have some knowledge of human nature!"

"Now have you?" she smiled gently, and he blushed. That had been very complacent to say!