"It's the Empress." Isabelle breathed, her chest still feeling tight. The decks pitched again and this time she was grabbed and swung about, shielded in the enveloping arms of James Norrington.
"Get below decks, quickly!" He said pushing her ahead of him. She dug her heels into the deck of the ship and turned to face him. "Please don't argue with me Isabelle." She was about to do just that when the Empress made a vain attempt to return fire and a piece of the rail nearby shattered into a million pieces of rotting wood and mysterious sea creatures. Isabelle didn't need to be told a second time and made her way quickly across the decks where marines and Jones' crew worked side by side in shelling the unsuspecting junk. She glanced over the teaming deck to where crewmen swung onto the smaller vessel and overpowered the other crew. Fingertips dug into her shoulder and she was wrenched around painfully to gaze up into the cold dark eyes of Mr. Mercer.
"What are you doing up and about here?"
"What's going on? Why was that ship fired on?" Isabelle asked, ignoring his question.
"That is our goal, Miss Beckett, or had you forgotten what we were charged with?" Isabelle glared up at him.
"Why was it fired on without the proper orders?"
"Not now!" Mercer said flinging her in the general direction of the captain's elaborate rear cabin. She staggered in and was shocked to find several marines standing inside, their bayonets flicking in her direction.
"Miss Beckett! You startled us!" One of them sighed as he lowered his gun. "What's going on out there?"
"We caught up with the Empress. It would seem that Mr. Mercer and Captain Jones found it prudent to fire on it." Isabelle huffed and moved across the room to the great organ that spanned the cabin. She touched the keys lightly, the great organ pipes belching sound and blocking the dreadful screams and roars of guns that shook the air outside of the cabin. "Would that I knew how to play…" Isabelle sighed as she let her fingertips dance over the keys discordantly.
"Miss, any noise is better than what's going on outside." She glanced over her shoulder to see the young marine from earlier. His fingers were white on his musket and his eyes wide on the door to the cabin. The odor of fear blended with the smell of fish and burning whale oil which guttered in the lamps.
"You have nothing to fear. Those on the Empress will fall easily. We are the superior vessel in this fight." She said softly.
"I'll believe it when I sees it miss." One of the older marines muttered. "Loosen yer grip on that musket boy. Else it'll go off in yer hand." Isabelle smiled to herself as she turned back to the organ keys. The older man was as afraid, if not more so than the young marine. He was showing a great deal of bravado because of his age and because she was in the room.
The thundering of the cannon tapered off and soon all was quiet. Mercer entered the cabin and signaled that Isabelle should follow. She did so slowly and at a discreet distance.
"Not that it's any of your business, but Captain Jones and I opened fire on the Empress to expedite our mission."
"That was not your affair. You should have come to Admiral Norrington to verify the order." Isabelle said angrily.
"IF the good Admiral were in his cabin we would have."
"The Flying Dutchman is not so big as to prevent someone from finding a body expeditiously." Isabelle snapped. "You overstepped your bounds." Mercer whirled on her and backed her into the wall of the corridor they'd gone down.
"I did no such thing. The Admiral was unavailable, I am second in command acting in the Company's interests and the Captain will do as he is ordered by me. Is that clear?"
Isabelle didn't answer but shoved Mercer away from her. The dark thoughts the man had, the constant preaching that raced through his mind and the constant humming of the word 'witch' that hammered in his head angered her and she acted on it. He raised his arm, prepared to strike her but he lowered it quickly. "I'll not strike a woman such as you. I'll not lower myself to that."
"His lordship does." Isabelle spat.
"Don't impugn his name with your slanderous tongue." Mercer warned, stabbing a finger in her direction. "You'll wait in your cabin until either the Admiral or I call upon you to interrogate the survivors." She stomped away from Mercer and slammed her own cabin door preventing his following her. She lit a lamp and sat in the soft glow of the cabin. Something wasn't right. There was an unease in the air but she didn't know from whence it came. She assumed it was stemming from captives being brought aboard the Dutchman. She sighed and went to the small table beside the door and picked up the bottle of wine that sat there. She'd had only a few glasses from it and now more than any other night she felt as if a glass of wine was exactly what she needed. She sat down at the work table she and James used occasionally for private meals and poured out a small glass of wine. It was there that James found her. She looked up from her half filled wine glass as he came through the door.
"What's wrong?" She asked standing. "Did something go wrong?"
"No…no not at all."
"Then what's troubling you?" She stood beside him as he poured out a measure of rum and knocked it back quickly. He stared at the wall for a moment and she felt compelled to touch his arm to bring his attention to her. "James? What happened on the Empress?"
"Nothing…nothing really."
"Then what is it you aren't telling me?" She didn't want to pry. She wanted him to tell her what had happened.
"Do you ever feel as if you're on the wrong side?" He asked after a long pause.
"Wrong side of what?"
"Of everything!" He moved away and sat heavily in the chair beside their work table. She sank into the other chair and looked at him. "Do you ever think your brother is wrong?" When she didn't answer he brought his eyes to meet hers. The look on her face said it all. "I suppose, that is a stupid and impertinent question."
"I believe my brother is wrong more than he is right." She whispered. "But he is my keeper. I can not speak ill of him."
"Do you think him capable of…murder?" She nodded silently and he sighed. "I think so too."
"What has happened James? Why these questions?"
James went on to tell her that in the bombardment of the Empress, the Pirate Lord Sao Feng had been killed.
"Then they have stopped the brethren court from convening. If he is dead then they won't have the nine pieces of eight to release the goddess Calypso."
"He appointed an heir with his dying breath. But that's unimportant right now." James sighed and rubbed at his face. He looked weary.
"Are you tired?"
"You have no idea…"
"It's plain on your face, I assure you, and I think I have some idea." She said smiling. "I'll leave you for now. Get some rest and we can discuss this further tomorrow."
She went up to the deck and watched as the crew of the Dutchman struggled to moor the Empress to the Dutchman. It was an awkward arrangement and took them the better part of the night to accomplish. Once done they set sail over the pre-dawn gray waters.
Isabelle was called on to accompany Mercer in interrogating the pirates that had been captured the following afternoon. Most of the men only spoke Chinese and no matter how Mercer yelled or threatened to torture them they were mute.
They stared at Isabelle though, dark eyes boring into her very being. Some were scared, the pungent aroma of fear blending with that of bad hygiene. Others were angry and resolved to stand by their captain, whoever that man was at this time. Some were just curious.
Women were bad luck on the open sea, with very few exceptions. Now they suddenly found themselves under the captaincy of one woman, who seemed brave and competent enough, and in the presence of another aboard a completely different ship. Isabelle didn't understand Chinese well but she thought the general gist of what they might be wondering was the direction in which the world was headed.
Isabelle sat on a low table and picked a piece of lint from her bright calico dress. It showed blue and green birds flying amongst red and green flowers. She let her mind wander while Mercer ruthlessly struck one of the prisoners. She didn't want to be here in body, so she let her mind and spirit wander. It was a two fold benefit; she was detached from the violence being visited upon the men and she could not tell Mercer much of anything.
One man, who named him self as Tai Huang, spoke stilted English. As Isabelle watched the filthy man sitting before her she felt as if she had seen him before.
"I've seen you before, have I not?" She asked, interrupting Mercer's line of questions.
"Unless you have been to Singapore, I highly doubt we've had the honor of meeting."
Singapore! He'd been one of the pirates who had met Isabelle at the quayside when Isabelle had dreamt of her. He had seen Elizabeth!
"You know Elizabeth Swann then…"
"Captain Swann." The man said raising his head. Suddenly much of what the curious pirates had been thinking made sense. Isabelle looked at Mercer.
"Is what he says true?"
"See for yourself?" Mercer pushed open the solid wooden door that had separated the brig from the inquisition room. Sure enough, slouched against the mast support that went through the center of the brig sat Elizabeth Swann.
"Are you and the Captain friends?" Tai Huang asked.
"Of sorts…" Mercer glowered at her and cleared his throat as he slammed the door on the outer room.
"Back to my line of questioning….where were you headed under your previous captain?" Tai Huang refused to answer the questions Mercer posed to him. Mercer signaled a marine to escort the man out. Before he crossed the threshold he turned and faced Isabelle.
"Have you a message, for my captain?"
"No, not at this time." Isabelle shivered as the door shut and locked her and Mercer in the damp of the inquisition cell.
"Is he lying?" Mercer asked.
"Of course he is. He knows where the court is meeting, but he will not take us there. It is safer if we sail about out here chasing our rudders. These men were loyal to Sao Feng and understood the importance of their lord. He named Elizabeth as his second and ,though they do not quite trust her, all will stand by her because she stands by them."
"Is there any way to breed dissent amongst them?" Mercer asked thoughtfully. Isabelle knew that by paying one or two of the men off they would in fact be able to bribe them into turning against Elizabeth and the other pirates, but she was unwilling to say that to this dark man.
"I don't think there is. They are quite strong in their beliefs."
"Mr. Andrews, please escort Miss Beckett back to her cabin…"
"Aren't you going to interrogate Miss Swann?"
"She will know nothing. She is only newly a captain and has little knowledge of the seas." Mercer turned his cold, dark eyes on her. Eyes like an abyss Isabelle thought. "Even if she were a man and not a foolish woman she would not have information of use to us."
Isabelle paced in her cabin as she shared what she knew with James.
"Why didn't you tell me Elizabeth was on board?" Isabelle whispered as she clasped and unclasped her hands. "Why is she not kept in here?"
"I offered her up my cabin---our cabin—when we took them all in." James said. "She refused."
"No wonder her crew has a new found respect for her." Isabelle whispered. "They'd ordinarily not follow a woman, it isn't in their culture. They believe women are weak and to be used as tools to elevate their own social standing. But they respect Elizabeth and what she stands for. She's earned their respect by not taking the easy way out."
"She hates me." James said suddenly. "She thinks I had something to do with the death of her father."
"What?" Isabelle stopped pacing and sat heavily in the chair beside James.
"Governor Swann is dead."
"What? When?—How?" Isabelle bombarded the Admiral with questions, not giving him the chance to answer.
"I don't know."
"She must be mistaken…."
"Is she? He was not aboard the Endeavor when last we met with them." James interrupted.
"He might have been in his cabin…"Isabelle tried to justify. In her heart though she knew that the governor was indeed dead.
"Isabelle, I asked after the governor when you were speaking with your brother…he was no longer aboard the Endeavor. Some men said he disappeared in the night, others had been told that he was sent as an ambassador to England."
"Why would a governor be sent as an ambassador---" Isabelle trailed off. She didn't need to ask the rest of the question because she had already answered it. "My god…"
"Your brother has made a fine mess of things." James said suddenly.
"I thank God more and more each day that I am adopted." Isabelle muttered.
They were silent for some time. Isabelle finally reached across the table and grasped James' sleeve. The rough gold braid and the soft wool were at odds beneath her fingertips. Much like what James was feeling in his heart at the moment.
"I think your brother killed the governor because he knew too much." James whispered. "I also think he is capable of doing much wrong before this is all over."
"Cutler is titled and has the ear of the investors and the King. There's nothing we can do. We'll never be able to stand up against him."
"There is." James said finally. "We can choose sides." He grasped her hand where it still rested against his arm.
"If it isn't too late…"
"I have to try." He rose quickly and left their cabin leaving Isabelle in the shallow light of the single lantern. What had he meant about choosing sides? That part perplexed her. Had her brother not already chosen their sides for them?
Then she began to feel something akin to an ember ignite within her. She had wanted to stand up to Cutler and fight him for some time now. How better to do it than to switch sides? Quickly she rose from her seat and went out into the dark corridor. She raced into the open air of the dock and looked around. Several marines and Jones' crewmen were lying about in the darkness. It was a calm night and there was no need to set up a serious watch. Their mission had been accomplished and the Empress loomed in the darkness being towed behind the Dutchman. Where had Admiral Norrington gone?
IN the darkness she was drawn to the rail. She could see little in the pitch black and the mist on the deck of the Flying Dutchman but she could hear things; mutterings in whispered Chinese and the sound of feet treading upon damp wood.
She had to lean out beside one of the spires at the rear of the ship and could just see down to the weather deck at the stern. It was fairly isolated, Isabelle knew. No wonder James Norrington had chosen to use it as a means of escape for the crew of the Empress.
In the darkness she could just make out small black dots crawling across the mooring lines to the other ship. Her attention was drawn to the lower balcony by James' voice.
"Do not go to Shipwreck Cove. Beckett knows of the meeting of the Brethren Court. I fear there may be a traitor among them."
"It's too late to earn my forgiveness." Elizabeth said coldly. James had been right, Elizabeth was angry with him. She thought he had something to do with her father's death. Isabelle understood her plight. Elizabeth Swann was an orphan in the world now.
"I had nothing to do with your father's death." James hissed back at her. "But that does not absolve me of my other sins."
Isabelle looked around and saw a shadow move in the darkness down the port access way to the lower balcony. She had to warn them! But how….
She looked down at Elizabeth and insinuated herself into the younger woman's mind.
"You might hate the man, but he has done much for you. He still feels for you…." Isabelle whispered to Elizabeth. "Invite him to follow you."
"Come with us." Isabelle sighed. Elizabeth had gotten the message. "James, come with me." She repeated.
"Who goes there?" The voice rang out below Isabelle and she stepped back from the rail lest she be seen. In doing so, she broke her thin connection to Elizabeth.
"Go, I will follow." She heard James say as she pressed herself against the damp wood at the stern of the ship.
"You're lying!" Elizabeth said, her voice rich with indignation.
"Our destinies have been entwined Elizabeth, but never joined." There was silence then and Isabelle, hoping that one or both of them had gotten off the ship chanced to look back down at the lower balcony. What she saw was not what she had expected.
James had leaned in and was now kissing Elizabeth Swann. Isabelle's heart caught in her chest. She had felt heartbreak before, in others, but never had she felt it as acutely as she did now. It was not her heart imitating or feeling the heartbreak of another. This was her own heart breaking on its own accord. How could she have thought that James Norrington could have loved her? Why would he fall for her, an old maid by all accounts, when he still desired to give his heart to the brave, lovely and vivacious Elizabeth Swann? Isabelle sank back to the dark wood and pressed her hand to her mouth. She wanted to cry or to scream! This was no time to be a nitwit of a girl suffering a broken heart though. She had to do something….
"Back to your station sailor!" She heard James say. Isabelle opened her eyes and looked up to see where the mooring line was pulled through one of the great block pulleys of the Flying Dutchman. The weathered line slipped down and was wrapped around and ancient looking belaying pin stuck into a hole in the side of the ship. She looked down to see where James was pointing his saber at the chest of one of Jones' monstrous crewmen. The man began to mutter incoherently and, acting fast, Isabelle raced to the pin that held the port ropes and quickly slipped the heavy line from its pin.
"All hands! Prisoner escape!" She heard the crewman yell.
She heard Elizabeth's high voice shriek in the darkness. A pit formed in Isabelle's stomach as a feeling of intense dread threatened to bring her to her knees. For months now she had been falling in love with James Norrington. She realized that now, and for the first time she associated the word love with James Norrington's name.
It would also be the last.
She understood now that he cared for her as a friend only. Perhaps it was even just pity that he felt. She would have to believe that if her plan worked half as well as she hoped it might.
She would not allow James Norrington to be brought before her brother as a traitor. She would not allow him to be tried as aiding pirates. She would not allow him to die at the hands of the crew of the Flying Dutchman.
If she could do nothing more, she would see that he made it off the Flying Dutchman.
Reaching her original post she saw James looking back towards the dot that was Elizabeth Swann, clinging to the mooring line. It looked as if she were trying to scramble back towards the Dutchman.
No, you foolish girl! Isabelle thought.
James raised his pistol towards the ropes still securing the Empress to the Dutchman. Realizing that he intended to keep Elizabeth from returning to him, Isabelle knew that she had but one chance. She lifted the belaying pin from it's spot on the rail and watched as the pulley began to sag and sink to the spot where James stood.
She watched, stunned, as the events unfolded before her eyes. The tension coming from the towed ship tugged the pulley and belaying pin towards James with incredible force. He did not notice, he was busy looking at Elizabeth suspended half way between the Flying Dutchman and the Empress. The belaying pin went past him and just as he fired up into the slackening ropes, the pulley hit him against the side of his head. Isabelle wanted to cry out but was so terrified she could not find her voice. She felt as if she were in one of her visions, not believing that she could possibly be standing here allowing this to happen. She found it even harder to believe that she could have participated in it. The force of the pulley striking him off balanced James and he dropped his saber to the decking. Isabelle watched, gut sick, as Admiral Norrington toppled into the dark waters below like a rag doll tossed by a child.
"James! NO!" Isabelle sank silently to her knees when she heard Elizabeth's terrified screams coming from the water below. She closed her eyes and tried to banish what she'd just seen from her mind. Over and over the same thought bounded through her terrified brain, unable to focus on anything else.
What have I done? My god…what have I done?
A/N: Thanks for being so patient. My exams ate my soul last weekend. So I'm a little behind where I really wanted to be. Thanks again and have a great weekend!