They were on sea for a nearly a month already when they finally sighted a Dutch vessel that resembled the ships they had been looking for. They gave signals for them to stop, but the crew of said ship seemed disinclined to answer or obey, instead they lifted their anchors, set top sails and tried to escape. This ship was considerably smaller than the Challenger and would therefore be much faster, so the Commodore commanded to fire a warning shot. If they didn't stop then, they would have to attack them from this distance, or they'd be entirely out of reach soon. Predictably, the answer was as belligerent as the inquiry, and suddenly changing their course, the strange ship turned to them and fired back from all cannons they could possibly have.

It didn't do much harm, and due to its small size, was quickly out of their reach again. Of course, the Commodore had ordered to shoot back, but the little skirmish hadn't damaged either ship. He decided to follow the escapees, for now; this was the best trace they had had since starting their search. But he could smell that this was a trap, and he told his First Lieutenant to keep a lookout for the pirate's allies, and also stick to open waters on their pursuit.

Indeed, their prey was a good deal quicker, but he couldn't help the feeling that they might be a little quicker still, but didn't really try. Yes, this was a trap, and when a group of small islands appeared on the horizon, he ordered his sailors to stop at once, and clarify the bearings. These 'islands' were not much more than some heaps of sand, uninhabitable, and so tiny that nobody had bothered to name them either. They weren't even noted on the first map they consulted.

Lieutenant Bryson, Robert Chandler's stand-in, looked through his telescope, and remarked, "You are right, Sir. This cannot but be a trap. Likely, they'll be waiting for us, hidden between the islands, or shoot at us from land."

"That would be a terrible plan, if it was the case, Lieutenant. Regarding our size, we'd blast their land-based canons away without as much as a scratch on our own ship. And they wouldn't be able to enter either… No, if I'm sure of one thing, it is this. Nobody is waiting on the beaches for us."

He wasn't sure what to do next, and knew that he needn't hurry with a decision either. That fleeing vessel wanted them to follow; they weren't going to vanish for good. But hasty decisions could lead to great harm, so he would think about this some longer. "Tell the men to stay at their posts, Bryson," he murmured, gazing at the horizon abaft. An albatross flew far over their heads and disappeared in the distance, and James turned around again, observing the islands ahead.

The enemy had two small ships, and a frigate. The smaller ones were no serious problem; the Challenger could bomb them to the bottom of the ocean without much risk for themselves. The frigate was more dangerous, but the way these islands were located, she wouldn't have much room to manoeuvre. Neither would the Challenger have, admittedly, but certain risks had to be taken if one was serving the Crown. No pirate could be taken without a certain degree of hazard.

He pointed at the map, tracing the course with his finger. "We'll follow them like they want. But we'll sail straight through, no matter what they do. When we spot this ship, or any of the others, we'll fire everything we've got at them, but we will not slow down. Got it?"

"Aye, Sir." Bryson rushed off, and the Challenger set in motion again.

There was one problem that he hadn't taken into consideration, as they had to see very soon. The escaping vessel wasn't a third of the Challenger's size, and weighing not remotely as much. That meant, that it didn't lie nearly as deep in the water either. The tiny islands turned out to be one bigger island, in fact, which was partly flooded in its lower parts, and groaning with his miscalculation, James realised seconds before it actually happened, that his ship was about to run aground.

"Blast it," he cursed, ordering his men to take care of the problem, but a ship of the Challenger's size wasn't moved so easily, or quickly, either. "I got to hand it to those bastards – the idea was good, using our superior size against us. Now hurry up! Quick!"

To his bottomless horror, he noticed several things at once, while the Challenger was still utterly disabled, and most of the crew engaged to push the vessel free again. The small ship with the Dutch colours reappeared, like a cumbrous fly over a sick person. The frigate, under Venetian colours, appeared, too, but keeping a respectful distance to the sand bank that stinted the Challenger, but turned side-wards, making ready to fire at them. And behind them, a third, small, and devilishly fast ship appeared, exchanging the Venetian colours for a black flag now and rapidly closing in.

"To arms," James cried, "Abandon the rudders, everyone back to their posts!"

"Sir?"

"We cannot escape, they're too quick, Bryson. They set us up, and the only chance we have is our superior firepower!"

And then, hell broke loose. The first salvo came from the small ship astern, and the other two instantly followed the example. The Challenger shot back with full force, landing some good hits before being hit severely itself. Despite the fact that they were stuck in the sand, the mighty vessel was shaken and slightly turned around, far enough to offer even more target. Their enemies were indeed well-prepared, and seemed to know no fear – they were firing and seizing in, the Challenger in the middle and forced to split up their efforts. He yelled commands through the deafening noise of the cannon fire, noticing weakly that they had been hit several times already, but so had the enemies' largest ship, giving it a heavy slope. He hoped they were disabled enough to dare a breakthrough, the Challenger had to get out of this place if they wanted to stand a chance, he gave order for some men to continue trying to steer them off the sand bank. The crew of the damaged ship changed its course, too, directly darting towards them, clearly not afraid to crash into them, he spoke a quick prayer.

Indeed, it looked good for a few moments, until the smaller ships, unhindered by the shallow waters, had closed in far enough. James was almost pushed over the rail from the heavy impact of the hostile half-sunken ship that was still shooting at them, and had hit the far away end port side, and in the same moment, about twenty sailors began entering, abandoning their own ship and jumping at the crew of the Challenger. He pulled his sword and yelled, "Cannons do not seize fire! Everyone else – fire at will!"

The Challenger got invaded by four dozen pirates, knives between their teeth and apt in throwing them, he saw a dozen of his own men hit or stabbed, he himself fighting and killing three men. The other ships had closed in on them, too, more and more pirates entered and soon outnumbered his own crew two to one. The deck was red with blood by now, it was a massacre, his crew fought bravely, but one man after the other got killed, the cannons incessantly firing still, and he screamed for them to stop and come on deck – it was no longer important to sink the ships, first of all, they'd have to save their own. And then, he saw him, the man that was leading the attack. He wasn't very large, comparably skinny in fact, dressed in black from head to toe and fighting like a berserk. He had a scimitar in every hand and whirled them through the air just virtuously, and most of all – he was laughing, he was laughing like mad, he probably was mad, but utmost successful nevertheless. Corpses or mutilated sailors paving his way, he headed for the helm, and swallowing hard, Commodore Norrington prepared himself to meet him. The man that had to be 'Commodore Nero', made a small, mocking bow when they were facing each other at last; he wasn't much older than James Norrington, his once probably even and regular features were disfigured by scars, and his shining black eyes were sparkling with malice.

"Commodore Norrington! We meet at last!" he snarled condescendingly, crossing his blades. "You will regret not to have died the last time we've met!"

"You will regret that we've ever met at all!"

Commodore Nero grinned, revealing pointed white teeth that looked like fangs, "You truly think so? I've beaten you once, and I know for sure I will do so again!"

"Go ahead then!"

The man lunged forth and stroke with both swords at once, James had to give that he knew what he was doing, he had never seen a better sword fighter, including Elizabeth's fiancé; Black closed in bit by bit, cackling and screaming. "I won't kill you at once, Norrington! I will carve you like a turkey, but I'll leave it to you to choose the sequence! First the hands, or better the feet? I will sink my teeth in your flesh, I will drink your blood and all the time, you will beg me to kill you! Have you ever felt real pain? You have no idea what agony can make a man do! You will soon experience pain beyond expression, my word on it!"

The Commodore didn't doubt the seriousness of these announcements for one second, nevertheless he spat, "You should better kill me right now, pirate, for as long as I can still hold onto this sword, I won't surrender!"

"Ah, so you've made your pick! The right hand may go first then!"

James could dodge one strike, but got hit by the next, the sharp blade cutting through the skin of his chest like butter. It wasn't too bad though, he scarcely felt any pain anyway, but his opponent cried triumphantly, "See? It's so easy! If you give up now, I pledge to put a bullet in your head before eating you!"

"But that would spoil all your fun, I suppose!"

"Oh no, to see you whimper for mercy will gratify me for that!"

They went on fighting all the time, and James snarled, "You take this very personal, don't you? Shouldn't I be the one taking things personal after you've destroyed my ship?"

"And what a pretty ship it was, Norrington! But you've got this one for it, not bad either – we will make a lot of money with these posh trimmings! Just like an invitation, isn't it? But to come back to your question – yes, I indeed take this personal, in a way. You were famous for never losing a battle until you've met me, and I will take pride and delight to defeat a man that was said to be nigh invincible! Your fame will only increase my own!"

"If it's fame you're after – why never leave any survivors who can spread it?!"

"I need no public acknowledgement, Norrington! It's enough that I know it! I've never lost a battle either!"

"How lucky, but also quite obvious, isn't it? For if you had, you had long been dangling from some rope, with the vultures feeding on your flesh, hm? Besides, you can't be in the trade for too long!"

"Ha!" the man cried gleefully, "I've killed the first man when I was twelve – I was a pirate already when you were still running around the Christmas tree in your lovely English estate. You will wish you had never left it!"

He received another strike, to the left shoulder, and this time, it did hurt. He pulled himself together; he had been hit before, it wasn't too bad – at least he hoped so. If he had to die here, he'd do so in dignity!

"Do you want me to stop, Commodore? One word is enough! Say 'surrender' and I'll stop!"

Through gritted teeth, he replied, "Never!"

In this moment, he saw the most astonishing thing – his opponent couldn't, as it appeared behind him. A ship was coming towards them, a familiar ship with black sails, and for one second, he was taken by surprise that Sparrow was after all in league with these butchers – he hadn't expected this! But then, he heard an explosion and realised that the Black Pearl was shooting at the enemy's nearest vessel, and with an expression of surprise, 'Commodore Nero' looked aside. "What's that?!"

It was surely neither sportive nor gentleman-like, but James seized this moment and lunged at him, dealing him a severe stroke, making him lose his left sword and shout with fury. Blood was shooting out of his fore arm, and James tried to smile. "Equal chances, don't you think?"

His enemy was infuriated, both with his injury and the fact that Sparrow's men were entering the Challenger, too, fighting alongside the crew. The tables were slowly turning, even though the battle between Nero and himself didn't lose vigour; both gave all they had, and very faintly, James realised that he would lose after all. The Challenger might be rescued, but he wouldn't be able to stand up to his opponent's fierce attacks much longer. His left arm turned more numb with every minute due to his wounded shoulder, and there, he received another stroke in the side, making him fall on his knees. Nero laughed raucously and prepared for the final strike, lifting his blade and –

He heard the shot, but only realised whom it had hit when he saw Nero's perplexed face, and instinctually, he raised his own sword one last time to defend himself, when that one's final hit came crushing down on him. He had missed James, now reeling and clinging to the banister, still looking utterly astonished, and James dared to take a short look who might have been the shooter. Possibly, his own face was just as bewildered as his opponent's in that second – he saw Mr. Gibbs with a pistol in his hand, running up the steps to the helm, and in passing, he dealt Nero a blow with the barrel, making him collapse. He couldn't but goggle at his former inferior, speechless, out of breath, and Mr. Gibbs bowed to him, "Is it very bad, Sir? Can you get up?"

"Mr. Gibbs?!"

"It's over, Commodore. The remaining lot has surrendered – come, let me help you…"

When he awoke, he was lying in his own berth, neat white bandages around his chest, stomach and shoulder, and it took him five seconds to fully realise what had happened. A very young sailor was sitting next to him, one eye bloodshot and a bandage around his arm, but otherwise cheerful and beaming at him. "Sir! You're awake!"

"Yes – Mr. Craven, right?"

"Yes, Sir! Can I do something for you? The pirate lady told me to watch over you and get her as soon as you've woken up, shall I fetch her?"

"The lady?!"

"The pirate lady, Sir. She's nursed you, and said it'd be all right. Does it hurt badly though?"

He shook his head, although it was a lie – he felt as if he had been disembowelled, and sent the boy away to get 'the lady'. This one appeared some minutes later, accompanied by the notorious Captain Sparrow, who grinned complacently.

"Commodore Norrington," he cried, "I hadn't meant you'd recover so quickly!"

He was elbowed by his pretty companion, but James replied brightly, "And I hadn't meant that I could ever in my life be glad to see you, Captain Sparrow! Seems like we've both been wrong then!"

"See, Anamaria? He addresses me as Captain as well!"

"Doesn't keep me from going on to call you idiot, Jack!" she retorted, and turning to James, she said, calmer, "How do you feel, Commodore? I've attended your wounds, but unless I'm badly mistaken, you should be all right in no time!"

"I'm fine – thank you, Miss – excuse me, I still don't know your name! You've patched me up for the second time, and I don't know your surname!"

"Oh, it's simply Anamaria." She smiled and shot Sparrow a side-glance.

"So – thank you, Anamaria, I shall be forever grateful for your kindness!"

"You're welcome!"

Jack Sparrow disliked not being in the focus of interest, so he pulled her away and got closer, grinning as broadly as he could. "Stop flirting with the Commodore, darling!"

James had never before been accused to be 'flirting', and naturally, it could only come from a guy like Sparrow! "And thank you, too, Captain Sparrow! You shall not be forgotten! Why on earth – I mean – did you just pass by coincidentally?"

"Coincidentally? Oh no! I was sent here, a charming young lady promised me her entire heritage if we would find you still in time!"

What the hell was this fellow talking there?! Soon enough, James learnt all details of interest; shocked, dismayed, and most of all astonished with every bit he heard. He was also informed that the surviving pirates had been tied and brought to the cells in the hull, including that pirate that turned out to be the not-so-dead-as-believed Horatio Black. He hit his own forehead, "Oh god, of course! Black – Nero – I could have thought of that!"

"Don't be hard on yourself, Commodore," Anamaria said softly. "You believed him to be dead!"

Sparrow continued his narration, and while he spoke, James spotted a little golden cross around Anamaria's neck. He pointed at it. "I know that –"

"Oh yes, I told you that Miss Swann is distributing her family heirlooms!" Sparrow sniggered. "She gave me this for Anamaria because she has nursed you last time!"

"Did she?!"

"Oh yes. The little damsel was seriously distressed, she was practically on her knees to beg me go looking for you. She was scared that the Falcon couldn't make it in time, and right she was."

"So what made you do all this? Go to Port Royal, come here – that's not like you, Captain Sparrow, is it?"

"Should you know me so well, Commodore? Didn't I mention that dear Elizabeth offered me to ask for whatever I want in return for the favour?"

He was stunned with this remark. "Excuse me?"

"No, no, she didn't say she'd marry me." Jack Sparrow laughed. "I asked her about it, and she retorted something including the words 'not if you were the last man on earth', roughly –"

"You didn't tell me that," Anamaria giggled merrily, too.

"However, apart from this tiny exclusion, she was very generous. How large is the Governor's fortune, in your opinion?"

"Captain Sparrow – you can't – you know Miss Swann is very impulsive, you can impossibly take her for her word in this respect!"

"Yes, mettlesome, isn't she? And so rich!"

"Listen, Captain – I don't mean to impose my own fortune was only half as grand as the Governor's, but name your prize and I will pay it!"

"Now that's funny – I think she used exactly the same words!"

"How much do you want, Captain Sparrow? Would fifteen thousand pounds suffice your conceptions?"

"What about twenty-five?"

James swallowed, nodded and said hoarsely, "Agreed, twenty-five thousands –"

"Ah, thinking about it – what'd you say to thirty-five?"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before groaning, "Thirty-five thousand pounds. I don't possess so much money presently, Captain Sparrow, you can get twenty-five at once and the other ten in approximately two or three years. It's a good deal for you, Captain, for as long as the Governor lives, Elisabeth has no money of her own to give to you!"

"You don't have thirty thousand pounds, Commodore? Really, you guys should demand pay rises! Thirty thousand pounds, that's three merchant vessels or one gold frigate – ever thought about changing your career plans?"

James closed his eyes once more and said through gritted teeth, "No, absolutely not!"

"That's the thing I find so thoroughly impressive about you, Commodore. You're always so righteous, so – so –"

"Stiff?" he suggested dryly.

"Yes, of course, but that wasn't the term I was looking for! I mean, what on earth makes you offer me your whole fortune just to stand in for dearest Elizabeth's debts?"

"She's offered you her father's fortune to help my crew. It's only fair that I take on this duty myself!"

"She was scarcely bothering for the crew, I found… Anyway, keep your hard-earned money, I only wanted to see how far you'd go. Would you have agreed to fifty thousands, too?"

"I could not have, for I couldn't give you my word that I'd ever have so much money!"

"See? That's what I meant. You're so good, Commodore! Always so honourable, always so unselfish! When I asked you about possible changes of career, I more thought of myself… In my age, one starts wondering about the future, you know? And after knowing you a little better, an idea popped into my mind – right after sailing out of Port Royal with Miss Swann's promise to do anything in her power if we only found and brought you back. Why not, I've asked myself, plead for clemency, for me and my lot, make the Governor sign an amnesty and become righteous privateers?"

He smiled complacently, but the Commodore could only stare at him. "You must be joking!"

"No, I'm quite serious, I assure you! I've figured that a privateer does pretty much the same like a pirate, but without risk to end on the gallows!"

"That didn't defy you so far, did it?"

"There will be some changes in my life in the next time, and I could well do with a little more security!"

He was still chuckling and exchanged a glance with the woman next to him. James arched a brow, "Changes? What sort of changes?"

Sparrow positively beamed. "I'm becoming a father!"

"You become a father? What woman on earth would ever let you come near her?!"

Anamaria blushed badly, and Sparrow cast her an admiring glance. James tried hard not to gape too much. "You, Miss Anamaria?! Well, that's – uhm… Unexpected!"

"Ah, Commodore, it's Mrs. Sparrow if you will, or simply Anamaria!" Sparrow sniggered. "And in approximately three months, we'll have little Jack to care for. Just imagine the bad effect on a child hearing that his father had been hanged!"

"Devastating, I presume –" James muttered helplessly; Sparrow couldn't be right in his mind, but even if this couldn't be satisfyingly settled, he was clearly most serious about his – er – career plan.