Disclaimers: I do not own POTC, nor Captain/Commodore/Admiral James Norrington and his fellow officers.
I want to thank everyone who has read my story so far, for the views, follows, fav, and review. Thank you for bearing with my first drafts, hence my broken English at some points (I promise, one day I'll reread my chapters and correct stuff but not any soon, nope, procrastination is a second-nature...)
The following morning, Lawrence felt rather awkward on the top deck with Lieutenant Gillette and Captain Norrington. She definitely had to get used to this new change in her life, and watching her former fellow-sailors made her feel guiltier than she dared to voice out to Gillette.
'I know it's such a great privilege to be an officer with you but… I don't know, Andrew, I feel rather out of place when I'm not helping them' she whispered to her friend so that her Captain couldn't hear her words and, God forbid, find her ungrateful.
Of course, Captain Norrington had heard everything despite the good measures his youngest officer had taken, but he did not say a word about her comment, he even took pride in her honesty and good intentions, and smiled to himself. Hard work and the wish of helping others were among the values he had always strived to live by, so in a way, Lawrence's genuine discomfort made her look all the more valuable. Norrington refused to let her take back her former works, so he managed to find her something else far more suiting to a highly educated young man.
'I heard you have some knowledge in the science of healing, Ensign Reynolds…'
'Yes Captain, I do, although I only know the basics really, nothing to take pride in.'
'Let me disagree with you on that, Ensign, I believe you are too modest, which in itself isn't a flaw do not mistake my words.' In a few paces, he was in front of her and Lieutenant Gillette. 'May I see your hand please?'
'I beg your pardon, sir?' My hand? What on earth does he wish to see? A black spot or something? I wouldn't mind giving it to you Captain, only if you propose on your knee and… wait what? Stop it Lawrence, you're not supposed to think that way.
After an awkward pause, mostly due to her wandering mind, she presented her bandaged hand.
'Ah, just what I was thinking!' Norrington exclaimed after withdrawing the rag covering the cut on her palm. 'After witnessing the great healing prowess of doctor Davis, you decided to take care of it yourself, by using what looks like a sort of paste. What is it exactly?'
Lawrence was struck, her Captain's observation skills were starting to worry her, when would he finally find out her true identity at this rhythm? Really she was surprised he hadn't already, with an eye as sharp as his.
'I merely used some seaweeds, Captain. The cut was starting to fester when I awoke, so I managed to treat it myself before reporting to duty this morning.'
'Did you really, Lawrence? Seaweeds? Are you some sort of warlock or apprentice druid?' Gillette joked, though he was clearly amazed by his friend.
The Captain nodded in approval, as baffled as his lieutenant.
'Your initiative and resourcefulness will serve you well in life, Ensign Reynolds. Now that my inklings are confirmed, I know the perfect task for you at the moment. How about you go and see what you can do to better our medicine quarters? Do as you please, I'm sure doctor Davis wouldn't mind at all so do not worry about it, and if you could prepare some of your seaweeds healing balm, that would be perfect, who knows when we might need it…'
'Thank you sir, I am going straightaway, I will do all I can to rearrange the medicine quarters.' She saluted them and climbed down the stairs of the deck, rewrapping her wound that as healing nicely.
And so she spent the following days, sorting out doctor Davis pile of papers, classifying the diverse medicinal plants, apparently unused as the doctor only trusted alcohol and fire to heal a wound, and concocting seaweeds balm.
She spent every other evening, when it wasn't the mandatory officer's supper at the Captain's quarters, in the company of the Lieutenants Gillette and Groves, and sometimes Captain Norrington.
One of those latter nights, Lawrence discussed for the first time with her Captain on a subject that seemed to animate them both, warfare treaties. At first, she was a mere listener as the conversation was between Norrington and Groves, but then her friend admitted lacking of background knowledge on the French Navy.
'But I know someone who may know more than me on the subject…' Groves said, looking slyly at his young friend. He had noticed for some time now that Lawrence never dared to be forward with Norrington, and let the conversation unfold before her rather than participating in it.
'Theodore, you must be mistaken, I don't really…'
'Nonsense! You told me the other day exactly the same thing James did, so go on' he sat back in his chair, clearly enjoying watching her turning red.
'Perhaps Mr Reynolds believes that my personal knowledge on such matter as warfare isn't as complete as his' chuckled Norrington, clearly enjoying the embarrassment of his youngest officer.
'I would never…' began Lawrence before seeing the laughing lines at the corner of her Captain's eyes 'Well yes, Captain Norrington, I do believe that in barely sixteen years on this earth and less than half a year at sea, I know far more about warfare than you' At those words, the four of them laughed merrily, breaking the ice and Lawrence aloofness.
Lawrence and Captain Norrington were soon the only one to be heard talking, both clearly impressed by the other's knowledge and personal vision on such and such matter. After what seemed hours for Gillette and Groves, who were pleased to see their friends at last involved in a conversation up to their intelligence, and what seemed minutes to James and Lawrence, Lieutenant Groves decided to retire for the night.
Although she wished she could spend more hours in such fine company, Lawrence thought that it was best to also head for her bed.
The next day, she was surprised to see her friend Simon waving at her. She hadn't spent as much time as before with the lower part of the crew, but she always managed to find some time to see them, if only for a couple of minutes. She was really glad that they hadn't turned their back on her after her promotion.
'So, today's St-Paddy's day and the mates and I thought I'd be too bad if you missed our celebration tonight. 'Cause you know, many of the crew are Irish and once in a while, it's good to have some music and dancing on board' Simon said, very enthusiastic about this evening's prospects.
'I'd love to be celebrating it with you, I look forward to it, Simon!'
'Great, you can come around 0800 of the evening then, we'll all be near the foremast'
'But, do the officers know about this?'
'Of course they do, as long as it stays reasonable and that no man does anything stupid, and besides, you'll laugh way more with us than with the wig-men' he winked
'Simon!' Lawrence laughed 'Alright then, count me in.'
Simon clapped his friend on the back and smiled brightly.
'That's my man! Okay, see you tonight then' he said before helping the others with a heavy chest to move to the other side of the deck.
Lawrence was obviously very excited about tonight's plan, she didn't really know what a St-Patrick's celebration at sea would do, but she was sure to have a nice time. She worked for the rest of the afternoon in the medicine quarters and then decided that it was best to tell at least one of her officer-friends that she would be spending the evening with the crew.
When she told him, Groves looked rather sad but encouraged her nonetheless, after all, she also had friends in the crew, and at such a young age, it would be a pity for her not to enjoy the occasion.
At 0800, she changed her clothes for more casual ones, and joined the rest of the crew in the forepart of the ship.
Already, the entrancing music of a violin was sounding and starting to bewitch her. The men were all merry with drinking rum instead of beer because there were none on board.
Lawrence sat on the deck next to Simon, listening Tim's story of his days back in County Clare.
'Here, take some Law' said her friend passing along a bottle of rum.
'I… don't feel like drinking rum…'
'I hope for you it's a joke! I'm not asking you to drink the whole bottle Law, not yet…' he laughed.
She had never drunk rum before so she didn't know what to expect, seeing how the other men drank it as though it were water, so she took a long gulp of it. As the liquid came down her throat, it burned its way down to her stomach, making her rush to the ridge and spit most of it overboard under the laughter of most of the men around her.
'Ugh, that was so disgustingly foul! How can you all drink that that easily?' she tried to find some clear water to wash down the sour taste and extinguish the burning sensation, but as she finally spotted a bucket of clean water, Simon took her arm and pulled her along with him to the group of dancers. The melody played by the violin had sped up to an animated jig, and men had gathered in a circle to dance at the speed of the notes. And so Lawrence found herself dancing among them, jumping and laughing with them. The arias changed but the rather simple steps of the dance never really varied, and Lawrence danced and danced and danced, accepting eventually from time to time a gulp of rum as the water was clearly to remain far away from the thirsty dancers.
After a couple more arias, the dancers finally got to rest for a bit and listen to the men willing to sing. What was at first done by a voluntary action quickly turned into a friendly competition involving all of them. Songs succeeded songs, until came Lawrence's turn.
For sure, she loved singing, but she had never sung to anyone else but herself. Luckily, the rum starting to get to her head, and after her companions' encouragements, she felt bolder, stood and started singing.
"Of all the money that e'er I had
I've spent it in good company
And all the harm that e'er I've done
Alas it was to none but me
And all I've done for want of wit
To memory now I can't recall
So fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all
Of all the comrades that e'er I had
They are sorry for my going away
And all the sweethearts that e'er I had
They would wish me one more day to stay
But since it falls unto my lot
That I should rise and you should not
I'll gently rise and I'll softly call
Good night and joy be with you all
A man may drink and not be drunk
A man may fight and not be slain
A man may court a pretty girl
And perhaps be welcomed back again
But since it has so ought to be
By a time to rise and a time to fall
Come fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all
Good night and joy be with you all"
All the men cheered, visibly impressed by her clear young voice and her rendition of the song, leaving a blushing Lawrence to sat down.
'You almost sound like a lass, Law, d'you know that?' said one of the men.
'Maybe, but at least he sings better than you, Mo!' replied Simon defending his young friend. 'Well done, mate!' he said to Lawrence before pulling her into a bear hug.
Little did the jovial gathering know that they were being watched by the Captain of the ship and his Lieutenants for some time now. They had went out to the top deck to check for a while if everything was alright and, although none of the three admitted it out loud, to make sure no harm was done to their younger friend. When Lawrence finished her song, Gillette and Groves praised her voice, and agreed on asking her to sing for them one evening or another.
As for James Norrington, he was deep in thought, thinking how fair her voice was, how the dancing and most probably the rum too had light up her face, making the twinkle of her blue-grey eyes and her smile brighter, leading to the conclusion of how out of place his young Ensign seemed among a crew of seasoned sailors. He shook his head, almost ashamed by the way his thoughts had strayed, thinking of one of a young man in such a way, let alone one of his subordinate officers was an outrage. He didn't mind the fancy of some men to prefer the private company of other men as long as they did not bother him, but James Norrington wasn't one of those, and Lawrence Reynolds wouldn't be the reason of the questioning of his own sexuality. He had always had a keen eye on the gentler sex, especially when the ladies were of a harmonious complexion, so there was no questioning it further, and anyway, to him, there only was one fine lady worth marrying, Miss Elizabeth Swann, and he would ask Governor Swann's permission as soon as the Dauntless made a safe trip back to Port Royal.
Notes: As you all know, this song is called The Parting Glass. I know so many other songs that would have been great, Irish folk, English Trad folk, sea shanties, especially 'Spanish Ladies' and 'Matty Groves' (Naomi Bedford version) but then laziness got the best of me, and I'm sure everyone knows this one too. Plus, I really wanted some kind of historical accuracy, as it dates as back as 1605 apparently, so no anachronism at all. And yes it's a Scottish Trad song, but it was so wide spread that no one really care where it was from.