The day of Lieutenant Chandler's return had been hectic and busy; he had to supervise all dealings, to inform the Governor and follow that one's invitation in the evening. He'd rather have paid lovely Miss Van Dyke a visit to tell her all that had happened, and most of all, to be the one to bring her the good news that the Commodore was alive and healthy. The next day, he could refrain no longer and headed over to her parents' house. She almost seemed to have waited for him, welcoming him warmly and leading him to the parlour.

"It's so good to see you!" She smiled. "You can't imagine how worried I've been!"

"Very understandable, but I assure you, the Commodore is very well. He's got over his injuries almost instantly."

She looked slightly puzzled. "Oh – that's splendid! I didn't even know he got injured… So what about you?"

"The Falcon was too late for the battle, had it been only up to us to help, the Challenger would have been lost. You have Captain Sparrow to thank that it hasn't come like this."

"Captain Sparrow and the Lord, yes. Although I must say I'm almost glad that you were too late, as you say. I've only heard some servants' gossip, but this Captain Black is a dangerous man, is he not?"

"He is certainly. The Commodore was very lucky."

"Yes, he was, and isn't it even luckier that you haven't been there? Oh, I must not think of it!"

Now it was Chandler who was astonished, and he knew nothing better to say than, "I would have been glad to fight for my Captain, Miss –"

"You are very fond of the Commodore, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am, very much indeed. He's more than just a superior, he's almost – a friend, if I may be so bold to say so. But why do you ask me that?"

"Well," she chuckled, "because you talk about him so much!"

He felt the heat rising to his face, "Do I? Oh – well, I've thought you'd like to hear about him…"

"I do like to hear about the Challenger, yes, and the Commodore is a very good man, but – what makes you think I'd be particularly interested to hear about him?" She looked quizzically and straight to his eyes. He had to avert his gaze, incapable to find an instant answer.

"Uhm – you see – er… Just what people keep talking…"

"And what are they talking, Lieutenant?"

"Oh, you know!"

"Apparently I do not. What do they say then?"

"Well, that you – and the Commodore – you know…" he murmured almost inaudibly, still avoiding to look at her.

She gave a bright laugh. "So that's what they say? The Commodore and me? But that's ridiculous!"

His eyes darted up, finding her utterly amused. "Ridiculous? No, I don't think so – why do you say that?"

"It's always like that with people's gossip – the last persons to hear about themselves are those in question! I severely doubt that Commodore would be happy to hear any such presumptions, and neither am I!"

"I do understand your delicate sense of propriety, Miss –"

"I'm not speaking of propriety, Lieutenant! I like Commodore Norrington very well, and I suppose he likes me too, but I assure you, that is all there is to it! He's not ceasing to love Miss Swann, and I –"

She stopped, now turning down her gaze herself. She was hurt, he could see that, and it grieved him to watch her like that. Darned Miss Swann, why was it always Miss Swann, Miss Swann, Miss Swann!

"Miss Van Dyke, you can believe me, he'll forget Miss Swann soon enough! You needn't – you mustn't – aggravate yourself because of that –"

"Aggravate myself? But Sir – let me clarify some things!" She turned her look back on him, it was almost a glare. "You seem to be labouring under the false impression that I had some feelings for Commodore Norrington, which I have not. I have the highest regard for him, he is an entirely amiable man, I can't deny any such claim, and not too long ago, I would have declared firmly that this was enough to form a marriage upon. I was mistaken. The Commodore has not captured my heart, and I dare say, he has no intention to ever do so much as try it. I'd be very unhappy if he did, for it would grieve me to cause such a good man any uneasiness by refusing him!"

He goggled at her, at a total loss for words, finally managing to stammer, "You – don't – I see!"

"Did you believe that as well?"

He couldn't bear to watch her and turned away; this was all a little much for him. On the one hand, he felt exceedingly uneasy with her revelation – he feared the Commodore to be disappointed again, after Chandler himself had talked him into the whole story! But on the other hand, his heart seemed to burst with joy – she did not love the Commodore! That meant nothing in respect of himself, naturally, but to think of her unattached to anybody was nevertheless –

"Did you believe it, Lieutenant Chandler?"

"Well, I must admit I did!" he sighed, pretending sudden and strong interest in one of the portraits on the wall. He didn't know what else to do. He heard her snigger, but there was a tinge of sadness in it.

"I understand… You are the Commodore's friend, and you wished to promote his happiness, yes. That's very good of you, and I'm sorry to disappoint your expectations in me."

He murmured some excuses and escaped as fast as he could. This was – he couldn't say himself. He was mostly angry with himself, for a whole variety of reasons. Foremost – why hadn't he kept his mouth? Why had he ever introduced the topic to his friend? The Commodore had never thought of Miss Van Dyke until he had mentioned her! Mention – ha! He had almost talked him into fancying her, emphasising her qualities on every possible occasion! He had been ready to swear that the lovely lady would just wait for a proposal! And now?

The next thing was that he was deadly sure that she was angry with him for his interference. The way she had looked at him when he had hurried away – she had been glad that he had left, without doubt. Terrible, most terrible! But what should he do to reconcile?

He did not dare to pay another visit, he didn't meet her accidentally either, and more than a week should pass without seeing only so much as a trace of her. He had hoped that this would calm his poor nerves a little, but it didn't. He meant to see her everywhere, just to realise in the next moment that he had deceived himself. He was plain miserable.

The Challenger returned two days before Christmas, and after the news of Captain Black's defeat had spread with the speed of an arrow around the town, almost everybody ran down to the harbour to welcome the victorious crew. Not even the other soldiers could refrain from such enthusiasm, running a bit slower maybe, but running nevertheless. Chandler saw the Commodore's puzzled expression when descending the leeway, and he had scarcely touched solid grounds – the Lieutenant being far from welcoming him yet – when little Miss Swann was already almost jumping at him.

"James!" She tried to keep her voice down, and failed. "I've thought I should never see you again!"

Lieutenant Chandler rolled his eyes, her father shut his with embarrassment, and the Commodore – well, he stared at her while she kissed his hand in great animation. "Miss Swann! Er… Thank you for your friendly welcome –"

"Oh, never mind! How are you? You've been injured – is it bad? Are you all right? You know you are always welcome in our house if –"

He laughed softly. "Miss Swann, thank you very much, but I really think it's unnecessary. Believe me, I'm fine, I've never been better. No need for –"

"You should see Dr. Jennings nevertheless! One can never know!"

"Elizabeth, darling," the Governor coughed delicately and tried to pull her away. "Allow the Commodore to fully arrive before you occupy him entirely!"

She blushed, James Norrington smiled wryly, Chandler shook his head. This girl! He saluted to his superior, and pretty much in order, they would have headed for the fort if it hadn't been for the cheering crowds around them. It was incredible how many inhabitants Port Royal had, if one thought about it. There seemed to be roughly a thousand people gathered on the docks, all hailing the glorious victors.

"What is this," the Commodore asked under his breath, "What do all those people want here?"

"Don't blame me, Sir! By now, every child tells the story of your defeat of Black," Chandler answered just as quietly.

"But we haven't defeated Black – that he's dead isn't owed to us!"

"They don't care, and they missed to celebrate Captain Sparrow. Leave them their fun, I'd say!"

"And I'd say this is utmost embarrassing!"

"But they won't stop anyway. You can set up a bulletin later." Chandler grinned; he found it right that crew and Captain were honoured. They had won a hundred battles without further acknowledgement, if they were praised now for one they hadn't won themselves, it was just as well. Behind them, the Governor walked next to his daughter, who was terribly excited and fidgety.

"My dear, calm yourself! Did you have too much coffee this morning?" Governor Swann whispered in concern.

"I don't know," she replied absent-mindedly. "I must have, I reckon…"

"I've told Scott not to give you too much coffee!"

"Beg you pardon, father, what did you say?"

He moaned, but she didn't listen anyway. Her eyes were fixed on the tall figure before her; he was alive, he was here, he at least promised he was all right – her heart was swelling with joy. She observed him closely, spying for any possible trace of an injury, but he walked just as straight and dignified as always. She would have to take a close look at his face again to make really sure!

She had always tried to stay away from consultations; whenever something happened in the fort, or one of the ships came back, the Head of the fort would report to the Governor. And vice versa, this one kept the soldiers well informed about every possible matter in the town. Normally, these meetings were lethally boring. Nothing ever really happened, and if there had been a battle, she had usually been denied to attend – the only times when she would have been curious. Today, no power of persuasion, nor her father's soft urgings could drive Miss Swann away. She had heard the story a dozen times, but she wanted to hear it once more from James himself, and doing so, she'd watch out whether he was truly well, and if not –

The Commodore wasn't oblivious of her close surveillance, rather the opposite – it made him thoroughly nervous, and he tried to look wherever, just not to meet her eyes. After a while, he was almost ready to believe himself that something was indeed wrong with him. And even if he was perfectly fine – he was still rather sure he was – if she went on like that, he'd fall apart soon. He'd rather have another fight with Captain Black than standing up to Elizabeth's inquiring glances, they were unsettling him so much more!

"What about your new ship, Commodore?" the Governor asked sweetly. "Is it as good as the Dauntless?"

Ah, the ship! A safe matter; Elizabeth could impossibly read any injury out of that topic! "She certainly is, Sir. She withstood the attacks without further damage, nothing that couldn't be mended in a day or two. Most of it has been done in Nassau Port anyway. Yes, the Challenger is after all a very proper successor for the Dauntless!"

"I'm glad to hear that!" Governor Swann smiled, satisfied with the reply. His daughter however was not; she had grown to strongly disliking the Challenger, she could not say why, and found it unsuitable to do as much as compare her to the Dauntless, let alone hear her being praised! How could James state she was a proper replacement?!

"Speaking of Nassau – what did the Admiral say?"

"As you can imagine, he wasn't very pleased. Infuriated would still be quite euphemistic, I'd say. But after hearing everything, he eventually calmed down, enough at least to grant Captain Sparrow and his crew a full amnesty, and in the end, he even pardoned two of Black's men. Well, rather say boys, one was only thirteen and the other fifteen. They had been midshipmen on the last ship Black has preyed on and were so deadly afraid that they followed him. But I've got the written testimony of seven other crew members that they've never committed any crime themselves so far other than following Black instead of being killed by him, and the Admiral let them go at last."

Had he looked at Elizabeth while speaking, he would have seen her glow with relief; she had never liked the Admiral and thought him to be void of every sense or helpfulness. She had been almost sure that the Commodore would give every pound he possessed to Jack due to her unguarded promise, and she wouldn't have been able to forgive herself for it. However, he did not look, and neither did her father who beamed now.

"Good of him! But what about Black?"

"He was hanged directly the next day."

"Very good – and Captain Filister?"

"There was no more opportunity to even interrogate him. He died by his own hands from a shot in the head. We hadn't yet anchored. But Admiral Thompson got his whole old crew arrested, they're waiting for their trials."

"Guilty conscience," the Governor muttered dismayed.

"You could see it like that, I suppose. But one thing… Apparently, he had even more blood on his hands than we've expected. He –" the Commodore swallowed hard and looked on his own shoes, "He's killed Lieutenant Gillette when he found this one to be of no further use for his purposes, and became a risk –"

He explained it in some words, leaving not even Chandler unperturbed. Elizabeth was shaken with the disclosure, clinging to her father's arm and feeling on the verge of fainting. Good Lord!

"Miss Swann, are you unwell? I'm afraid you shouldn't have heard that – can I get you a glass of water? Do you wish to lie down?" he asked almost hopefully. She had to go, he couldn't endure her worried gaze much longer, it caused him to feel like burning.

"No, no! I'm fine, really," she retorted weakly and tried to smile. "Or – yes, a glass of water will be just perfect!"

He was glad to have something to do that gave him a chance to conceal his face, and with much more caution than necessary, he poured a glass and handed it over to her. Her fingers were trembling, he could feel that she was looking in his face, but he looked only at her hand and made a small bow then.

"In case you change your mind, the guard will take you home instantly –"

"Yes, thank you, I will ask for it if I need it!"

Before the Governor left at last with his lovely daughter, he invited both the Commodore and Lieutenant Chandler to come to his house for dinner in the evening. He was obliging and kind as ever, but Commodore Norrington shook his head quite firmly.

"Thank you very much, Sir, but I think that's impossible. There's a lot I have to do and many, many things I have to talk to the Lieutenant about. It would suffer no delay. I'm really sorry, but I have to turn your gracious invitation down," he said quickly, still avoiding to look at Elizabeth. By no means he would manage to spend an entire evening in her company, as much as he had longed to see her again.

"But you can still do that tomorrow!" she cried, and he shook his head.

"I'm very sorry, Miss Swann, but it's Christmas." Fully aware how feeble an excuse this was, he pretended to look through the papers on his desk. "These things have to be done before that!"

Chandler wondered what on earth the Commodore could be talking about, understanding that there was little truth in it – but he wasn't keen on an evening with the Swanns either and refrained from making a remark.

"But then you must come to dine with us the day after tomorrow!"

He couldn't suppress a smile. "Yes, thank you very much. The day after tomorrow would be just splendid!"

"Fantastic! I'll have your word for that, James – Commodore Norrington, I mean!"

Her father gave a little start with her address and pushed her gently out of the office, bidding the officers good-bye. Only when he had shut the door, the Commodore exhaled from the depth of his heart, hearing the Lieutenant snigger. "So what is it that you have to talk to me about that is so terribly urgent and suffers no delay? The Christmas menu for the officers?"

He preferred to shrug vaguely. "I simply do not feel too well, and Miss Swann would make a big thing out of it if I told her, that's all –"

"That girl is bound to make a big thing out of everything, Sir!"

"Don't you always be so harsh on her, Chandler!"

"My apologies, Sir, but I think I might be less harsh on her if you were less indulgent!"

"So we have a problem then, for I shall always be indulgent with Miss Swann, and will not have her be abused by anyone, not even by you! Did I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Sir, I'm sorry!" He bit his lip and mused for some moments before speaking again. "Sir," he said tentatively, "could I ask you some very personal things? You mustn't be angry with me, please, but –"

"Out with it, Chandler! I've always appreciated your frankness, you know that."

"Am I entirely mistaken to presume that you still foster some – well, feelings for Miss Swann then?"

The Commodore sighed and closed his eyes, murmuring at last, "You aren't mistaken, I'm afraid. But please spare me your sermon now, will you?"

"Oh no, I wasn't about to do so! That's good, I guess –"

James Norrington shot him a surprised look – those were very new tunes coming from his First Lieutenant there! This one went on with his stammering, "For I must make the most awkward confession to you – erm… You might remember what I've said to you relating to Miss Van Dyke – do you?"

He couldn't but laugh. "Oh yes, surely! You want me to marry the lady!"

"Do you still have any – intention of proposing to her then?"

"I've never had one to begin with! You wanted me to marry her, have you forgotten?"

"No, not at all. However, I'm very glad to hear that! Excuse me once again to intrude in your private affairs!"

The Commodore grinned despite himself. "So why did you ask me then? What confession that you wanted to make is in such a question?"

"Oh, well – you see – I happened to talk to Miss Van Dyke lately and – and –"

"And…?"

"She sort of mentioned – how shall I say – well, it turned out that I had been totally mistaken concerning her possible attachment to you…" Chandler vowed inwardly to undertake ten night-shifts if he could only get through with this as quickly as possible. But his superior laughed heartily, indeed, he was shaking with laughter now.

"How lucky that I didn't listen to you then, isn't it? Honestly, I don't know how I would have taken another refusal after all!"

"Yes, don't listen to me by any rate, Sir! I obviously have not the slightest idea about these things. I'm a sailor, I lack every talent to decipher young ladies' notions…"

"Well, I can only hope you've learnt that lesson! But tell me, I'm curious – how did that – conversation – come about? Did she mention in passing that I was the last man on earth that she considered to marry?" He thought he had a very clear idea what sort of consultation Chandler had had with the fair lady; he had suspected this for some time now, but he had been mistaken, too. The Lieutenant roughly sketched the contents of his last talking to Miss Van Dyke, and James Norrington was torn between bewilderment and sheer amusement.

"My dear Chandler," he said in the end, "can I ask you something very personal? Have you ever mused for five minutes only why on earth you should care whom Miss Van Dyke is going to marry?"

His officer blushed badly. "I was concerned for your well-being after – the disaster –"

"That's nice, thank you very much, but nevertheless! Are you truly telling me – or yourself for that instance – that you've only talked to Miss Van Dyke about these matters out of concern for me?!"

"Well, yes –"

The Commodore went on impassively, "And not for a single moment, it ever came to your mind that you could have more feelings for the lady than me in fact? No? Nothing?"

Poor Chandler gave the distinct impression that he was ready to sink in just any hole in the ground that had the grace to pop up there. "Sir – do not mistake me – I – have a very high regard for Miss Van Dyke, how could I not? I mean, she's an angel, isn't she? But when I first suggested her to you, I hadn't quite realised that yet… Besides, it doesn't really matter, does it?"

"It doesn't matter? You know what you're saying there?"

"Miss Van Dyke is a lady, Sir," the Lieutenant murmured helplessly.

"Yes, I've noticed that! So?"

"I could impossibly – never – do so much as think of – well, erm – proposing to her!"

"Obviously you cannot even speak about it, Chandler, but let me tell you something – according to my experience, it's always like that! It took me weeks to dare asking Miss Swann – well, admittedly, that's a bad example now, but nevertheless. Believe me, only a man who isn't truly in love has no scruples of asking his lady, it's a sort of natural rule, I guess!"

Chandler's complexion was altering between scarlet and white. "But Sir!" he cried pleadingly, "You don't understand that she – if she doesn't want to marry you, how could I even think about it!"

This remark flattened even the Commodore's wits, and he goggled at him dumbfounded. "Beg you pardon? What's the one thing to do with the other?"

"Sir, look at it! You're the Head of the fort, you're famous for your many victories, you're rich and have a reputation to be the best person on this whole darned rock of an island! If she was ready to refuse you, I could never ask her!"

James took a deep breath before answering, "For a start, Chandler – it's a very bad precondition to mean that only a woman who would want to marry me could be asked to marry you instead. By no means – listen to me, I'm very serious! – by no means you should choose a wife who would want to marry somebody else but you. Trust my words, I have some painful experience in this sector! And as we're already speaking of said experience anyway – did you notice that with all my alleged merits and riches, Miss Swann still prefers to accept a poor blacksmith instead of me? Did you never get the notion that merits and money could have nothing to do with it?"

The poor man was speechless; no, he indeed had never given it much thought. Miss Swann was mad, that was all, otherwise she would have accepted the Commodore! "But Sir," he sadly began again after a while, "I'm nothing but a farmer's son in the end. I could never be so bold and woe a true lady…"

"Nonsense! You may well be a farmer's son, but now you are the First Lieutenant on one of Great Britain's most famous flagships, and it was only yourself who has brought you there! No father's money has bought you commissions, no relations have advanced you anywhere! Talking about merits, are we? You began as a midshipman when I first met you, ten years ago! I've never laboured on deck, my father made sure that his son would start as an officer straight away! Comparing your career and mine, you cannot overlook that you've come further than me in far less time, and only by your talents! Admiral Thompson hinted that you'll be made Captain sometime next year, the Falcon will be yours then, and you will have a fortune of your own!"

Chandler shrugged in terrible awkwardness, "I can't deny there's a grain of truth in that, perhaps, Sir, but nevertheless – she doesn't want me anyway, no matter how rosy you colour me now!"

"How can you be so sure about that?" Commodore Norrington was truly annoyed, he couldn't say himself why. "You've never asked her, clearly, you don't even seem to have a very good perceptions of her preferences, or you wouldn't have wanted me to propose to her! Did it not occur to you for one second at least that the little lady might have been so irritated as you've described her from your last meeting because she was disappointed?"

"But why should she have been disappointed then, I was as civil as I could be –"

"In case she really liked you, she might have found it no exact civility to understand that during all your apparent visits and consultations and whatever – that you've never seemed to have anything else in mind than act the postillion d'amour for somebody else!"

The good Lieutenant left not very long after this heated discussion, so thoroughly confused that he hardly knew himself what he was going to do next. His superior and friend was left behind wondering whether he had blessed or cursed the young man – but wasn't it always good to know for sure? If he had never asked Elizabeth, he would always have been forced to live with the lingering doubt that it might have made a difference. As tragic as it was still for him – he preferred to know her just as happy as she could be, and have no suspect that she could be happier with him, let alone his own emotions…