To The Ends
Norrington really shouldn’t have had the item he did in his possession, but after the thieving of such items as real live hearts of undead sea-monsters and willfully deceiving the very easiest to deceive – honestly, those who thought that people did not ever, ever change were the easiest to fool and Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann really did fall into that category far too often (though, Norrington was beginning to doubt his evaluation of Elizabeth).
So really, thieving a simple pirate-branding iron was nothing.
Beckett would notice, eventually, of course, but until then, Norrington contented himself to spinning it and studying the iron in the light of his personal fire. He was sat in the living room of his home, which hardly felt like a home at all anymore. It didn’t smell far enough like rum and dirt to temper his need to fill himself with suffering. The hurricane had been the worst mistake of his life and he didn’t deserve the posh riches of his living room with its’ tea from china and rugs from
It did not take long for those thoughts to convince Norrington that he need set off once again, find
He had abandoned his men to die within the hurricane for his own vanity. He should not leave them to die for his redemption. There were so many manner of ways in which Beckett might use Davy Jones’ heart to control the sea and Norrington – being a well-learned man – could unfortunately think of dozens of them, none of them promising, in any way.
He slipped past the watchful and nosy eyes of Port Royal by night, still in his worn coat – which now was more worn and less dirty, having been through the wash the once – with his hair tied back and his face clean-shaven. None would mistake him for the honourable man he once was, could hardly think to call him Commodore, not with his posture and the glare he offered. He was as bad as any ruffian out there, with his letters of marque tucked away in his pocket.
But he was better than them in several ways:
He was smarter. He wouldn’t idle around the seas.
He was more dedicated. His sloop was small, but he would find a crew in Tortuga and sail faster after that.
And he had a plan.
*
The ladies Giselle and Scarlett were two of Tortuga’s most infamous sort, the kind of people affiliated with Captain Jack Sparrow – and oh, did he imagine that he himself had quite the reputation, given his latest adventures.
Tonight, they hung off each other and regarded Norrington while his crew slowly loaded up the sloop behind him. Norrington had nothing but a smirk for the two, feeling rather nothing but contention for their kind.
“Jack?” Scarlett snorted. “We ain’t seen Jack ‘round here since you and ‘e went knocking about like two whores in heat.”
Norrington raised an eyebrow, indeed wondering if someone might translate for him and if that particular assessment applied to any particular whores. Beside her, Giselle fanned her pale face with a Venetian fan. “And you?”
“Course not,” she answered quickly. “We seen your girly-boy.”
Norrington managed not to smirk and make any comments about William Turner’s predisposed talent at being ‘pretty’ and did assume they meant Elizabeth. “When?”
“Two days past,” Giselle guessed. “I think? Maybe?” She eased up to Norrington, batting her eyelashes. “Guess I might r’member a mite better if I had something t’warm me up?”
Norrington did nothing to encourage her, merely plucked the hand she had laid on his chest off of himself and set it at her side, tucking a single coin in her palm. “It’s not going to keep you warm, but at least it ought to keep you quiet,” he said evenly, turning to ready up the supplies for the ship, listening to the squabbles in the background over who the coin belonged to and to which of them Norrington was far more inclined towards.
He walked away from it, glad to be rid of the noise as he came upon the deck, nodding to his bosun and the other members of the crew. “Let’s set sail, heading southeast, full sail,” he advised, not pausing in his step as he went for his cabin to chart the rest of their course.
*
He avoided the storm when it hit, taking the sloop to land and watching the tropical depression passing overhead. It wouldn’t have harmed the ship much and though he earned several ill looks from the crew on the matter, something had awoken in Norrington’s stomach at the sight of clouds overhead, choppy waters tossing the boat around, and that feeling hadn’t subsided until he was upon land.
When everyone was safe.
*
The rumour came around that Elizabeth and Will and crew had gone to someone named Tia Dalma, a woman known for her skills in the dark arts, for enchanting men. She was ‘up river’ and that was all that Norrington was ever told. But they had been there a very long time ago, and now Norrington knew he must follow. He took his crew with him and left the most trustworthy man – an ex-Navy man who lost use of his arm before the Navy lost all use for him – upon the boat. The rest, Norrington wouldn’t trust as far as he could throw them.
He went to Tia Dalma alone, climbing the ladder to find her throwing bones upon the table.
“I been waitin’ for you, Commodore.”
He flinched at the title, a hard reaction to lose after so long. But he did not show any signs of weakness, merely removed his hat and sat down at her table, staring at all the paraphernalia lying about and telltale signs that familiar feet had been there before him – Gibbs’ flask, a few golden strands of hair upon the ground.
“Lookin’ for clues?” she laughed and he glanced up in time to glimpse her rotting teeth. “Lookin’ in the wrong place, more like. You can’t chase y’er past here, Commodore! Can’t chase it out on the sea, either.”
Norrington kept his chin lifted high. “I’m here only to find Elizabeth and what remains of the crew of the Pearl.”
“So you can give a hanging?”
“So I can save them.”
“Ah,” she said knowingly, sitting back and studying him. “Redemption for others, it is? Very, very noble.”
He felt discomfited sitting there, as though she knew too many secrets of his life that he had never set forth to bear and yet, she had gleaned them anyhow. He managed to keep his posture perfect, the very model of a brave young soldier at sea.
“Where did they go?”
She leaned forward and for a moment, Norrington thought that all would be for naught and he would leave with nothing. But then, she smiled at him, and pointed towards the door. “Go east,” she replied. “As far as y’can. And don’t stop until you find d’end of the world, Commodore James.”
He rose from his seat and she kept pointing. He had the feeling that she knew more than he could ever think to ask about and so, he just left, heading down the ladder and readying his men.
It was time to see what lay beyond the charted map.
THE END