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Betwixt Hammer & Frizzen	By : GeorgieFain Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > General Views: 2032 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
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Hang the Jib

Day Five, Night.

When the sun had completely fallen below the horizon to his left, Jack lit one of the two lanterns and hung it from the oar-mast. This cast him a solid circle of light which allowed for some navigation. He rowed hard and with a system, now. Every forty pulls, he would stop and take a few drinks of the bottle he'd opened at sundown. It was bumbo and he'd found the bottle stashed under the fore-bench. The sweetness was cut by nutmeg and gave him the extra strength to keep hauling on the oars. Now, his skeleton self was gone and he was determined, having decided that even if he must expire from it, he would reach the other boat before very long.

His compass still unwaveringly pointed to the east and north---and the unknown boat.

It, the other long-boat, did appear as nothing more than a light---the figure he had seen, sitting there, had obviously lit a lantern of their own. With his spyglass, he had been able to identify, with the glow of that other boat's lantern, that the figure wasn't rowing. As of yet, the person hadn't shouted out and he was loathe to do such himself.

After many pulls of the bumbo, he finally reached the circle of light offered by the unknown boat. And was quite surprised to find himself looking at Hector Barbossa. With a cry of amazement, Jack used the boat-hook to snag the long-boat and draw it in close. As he did so, his matelot did nothing to help. Only sat on a bench, bare-chested, watching him with an air of downhearted, seething disgust.

"What are you doing here, mate?" He demanded of Hector, who did not answer but only growled. His fellow captain was naked---not simply bare-chested. Naked, red-skinned from the sun, and sitting on the long-boat's bench as if there was nothing surprising about being afloat without even so much as a pair of breeches. Jack, not getting an answer, went on with rope, to tie the two long-boats together at the mooring hooks.

Once the two boats were tied off, he sat back with his bottle and studied the other man. Barbossa sat hunched on a bench with a crate before him. There were no oars and the lantern was smoky where it was sitting on the forebench. He took a guess at the situation, commenting aloud. "You were ambushed on the second day and put in the boat naked..." He grimaced, seeing the red marks on Hector's wrists. "Tied up. Which you did rectify by...chewing at the ropes? Or did you, by chance, cut them with your scathing wit?"

There was no answer to that, only a smoldering glare.

It was obvious, now, as how things had gone very bad.

His compass had led him to his matelot, not his ship.

But, he couldn't have known this would happen.

The two boats dipped and rolled on the water. Jack began re-setting his mast, using a bit more sail-cloth and more rope to secure the spare oar in the curving gap between the boats just afore the mooring hooks. A sniff of the air suggested that the weather was about to change---the breeze was beginning to pick up, his sail stirred as he pulled the ropes tight once more.

Had it all changed because of Barbossa's presence? Another example of Calypso's strange ideas concerning favor. Once, he'd been her favored pirate. Not any more. All because of those promises his matelot had made, upon being brought back from the dead. The sea goddess was notoriously fickle with her favorites. She�d been that way, as Tia Dalma, and he couldn�t imagine that she�d have changed now, when she was free to be as difficult as she liked.

With the two lanterns, he could see a great deal more. He leaned over the boat's rail and offered bumbo. "Here you go, mate. When's the last time you had anything to drink? From my estimation, you've been in this boat for mayhap three days and up from the south, too."

Without even glancing in his direction, Hector snatched the bottle from him and lifted it. After a few swallows, the other pirate finally deigned to speak. "Jack. Ye wouldna ha'e any breeches yer not currently wearin', would ye?"

"No, mate, I've not." He frowned, looking at his own stash of crates and sacks and then at the single crate in Hector's boat. There was a brown woolen blanket, laying in the stinking bilge, but no clothes of any kind. Jack took back the bottle of bumbo and drank from it again, stretching his back and arms. He mused, studying the naked man. "She did tell me as how we ought to put you naked in a long-boat, cast-away. I guess the lass did mean what she was talking at."

That made Barbossa stare at him, mouth twisted in a scowl.

Jack shrugged. "To my mind, Hen meant me to be finding you. She knew I'd use the compass and that it was as likely to bring me to you as to the Pearl. Smart miss, no matter the cut of her jib."

"Dead miss." His graying and weathered matelot spoke, voice low and vicious. "When I do catch up with her."

"Do cover yourself, Hector-love. Here---" He pulled loose his sash and tossed it to land on his fellow captain's knees. "Wear that for a bit and I'll see about figuring out where exactly we are headed next."

The breeze had picked up and now did seem to be pushing them along at very nearly the pace he had made with the oars. The waters lapped higher on the boats' sides and even splashed a time or two, catching him unawares with its cold. He could not see the sky, but he imagined there was probably naught to see but dark, roiling clouds. Even as he struggled with the charts and his compass, the storm began to blow in earnest. When he looked up to see about taking in the sail a little, for protection, he found that Hector had already started moving for that end---wearing the wide and long sash tied about his hips as protection against the elements.

They would want land and soon. Focusing on the idea of that, Jack pulled out his compass while standing up, his balance caught only by one hand on the oar that served as mast. In the flickering light of the lantern above him, the needle swung wild and then stopped. With sunset's direction in mind as west, he decided that north was directly ahead. Which meant that he obviously wanted to go north and north-east, following the compass.

The winds were driving them north-west. Pocketing the compass, he sat down hard on the bench and grabbed the oar he'd strapped at the stern for a rudder. Pushing at it, he managed to right the two boats' direction under the driving winds. It was nearly more than he could handle, what with the storm's gathering strength.

When the cold rains began, they stung and he squinted against the water to keep his eye on the horizon---or what he could see of it, in the dark and the winds. Hector did rise to pull the lantern down from the mast, sheltering it in the second boat. Huddled, the two of them kept silent and listened to the storm as their two boats bounced and tossed in the crazed sea.

***

Henriette waited until the ship had quietened for the night watch and then, with a very, very small dose of opium working in her to destroy some of the pain she felt, had Ragetti go aboard the Odysseus with her. Crossing the gangplank, they had stepped down onto the corvette with nary a word. She did know that Pintel was among those who were guarding the prisoners in the Pearl's brig, mayhaps telling a few tales of his own to while away the time. She knew that, considering the topic she had set Murtaugh, as how it would naturally come to Pintel and the other members of the Black Pearl to be telling of what they themselves did know of James Norrington's time as a drunken deckhand. Those who had sailed with the Pearl at that time had told her stories, to go with the tales which Mrs Turner had offered up.

So, as the world was quiet and the sea was still, she took the opportunity to search the cabin aboard the Odysseus with Ragetti at her side. With lanterns lit, she walked its cozy length and breadth, studying the things which did present themselves. The captain of this vessel was a stolid man who did not seem to collect much in the way of obvious wealth, but there was an object or two that did tell something of his nature and mind.

His charts and navigational tools were among the very best she had ever seen---a collection that did speak highly of his skills in that area. He was also in possession of a number of thick, leatherbound books---the cabin was smallish, but the books did take up a corner of their own. Only a very few were in English. He kept his cabin as neat and clean as any Naval officer---and she might have wondered if he had served as one if she didn't know something of his past beyond what he had confessed over supper.

As she and Ragetti looked for evidence of official papers---something of a diplomatic nature---Henriette thought on what she knew of the Norringtons, starting with Charles. It was a curious thing, really, the matter of the captain of the Odysseus. Captain Norrington knew some little thing of the Pirate Code, but had not asked for a parlay. He had not asked for terms of any kind and, yet, indeed seemed to be quite aware of the danger he was in. At the end of dinner, she had told him of what she intended and he had refused.

She was most interested in having him for a first mate; the Odysseus was his ship and he was familiar with it and she did intend to captain the lovely corvette. Having Norrington aboard would be tantamount to possessing the keys to a veritable kingdom, what with the money that could be made under the sloop's sails. He had connections.

Added to that profit was the fact of how she did enjoy his company, already, after only a brief meeting. He was a hell of a sailor with a roguish sense of humor. The Odysseus was fast and perfect for the life of a smuggler and would do for easy pirating. It did seem wrong to kill the man, when he possessed fine sensibilities and a moral code, which always did come in handy with a first mate.

If she could work some of those morals out of him, he�d be an excellent pirate.

But, more than any of this, it was indeed because of his pedigree and family connection. She was not keen on the thought of killing him because of who he was and how that could come back with a vengeance, if she did this man any harm. Even if what he did as a profit venture was kissing cousins with piracy, the man was a Norrington and he was the younger brother of Admiral James Norrington and the Norringtons still had influential friends in both the Spanish Main and Ol' Merry England.

She wanted to revitalize the Black Pearl's reputation, not go earning a black mark and a death sentence for its captain and crew. There were men on the shore at the burned docks who had seen everything and would remember that it was the Black Pearl as what had taken the Odysseus and its captain.

She did know who the Earl of Dorset was---thanks to a bit of talk she had indulged in with Mrs Turner concerning the bloodline complications of how the younger brother could become an earl while the older brother had taken a commission in the Navy---and what she wanted to know was why His Lordship was sailing all secretive-like around the Spanish Main as a whiskey-runner when he was a member of the House of Lords and a Peer to the Crown. It all had only given her a stomach-ache, to listen to the jibbering talk of things as which she could only picture in her mind from books she had read. She had not lived any of that sort of mess, not like Mrs Turner.

Perhaps the matter of Captain Norrington's current occupation and location had something to do with those other stories Mrs Turner had passed on to her as they were scrubbing the decks together. The willowy blonde woman had talked of how James Norrington had spoken to her once of how he did find himself concerned with his younger brother's growing discontent with the choices made by their King. The tale had come as part of a diatribe against the Crown's allowances to the East India Trading Company. As Mrs Turner had grumbled, who had ever heard of giving a consortium of merchants the titles of nobility and the full use of the Royal Navy? Perhaps those Crown allowances for the EITC was why Captain Charles Norrington was in the Caribbean as a smuggler instead of tending his estates and looking to create an heir, as all noblemen did.

The diplomatic flag might not be a falsity, as he did claim. He might carry paper for Governors, but mayhap he didn't carry them while on his own little ventures. Or mayhap those papers were hidden, stowed aboard the Odysseus. She would need to talk with some member of his crew. Maybe under a bit of questioning with all the niceties, she could learn some of what she might need to know when convincing a man like Charles Norrington.

Who hadn't even corrected her when she called him Charlie several times.

"Oi, look at this, Captain." Ragetti pointed. "A secret drawer, as it were."

She swayed a bit to the port side as she turned, heading for the heavy wooden desk. On its other side, where the chair sat, she saw what the blonde gunner did mean. There was a drawer protruding from under the chair's padded bottom. It had fallen free in the shuffle and now hung open. She motioned to the whole chair. "Put this thing on the desk for me, Isaiah, if you would."

On its side, on the desk, the chair looked like nothing so much as a fallen beast. She ignored that and pried at the drawer, to take it loose from the seat. Once finished, she lifted it free with her one good hand and laid the drawer flat on the desk. Then, Ragetti took down the chair and set it back on the deck. She sat down hard, her shoulder and chest throbbing dully, and began leafing through the small drawer's contents.

King's seal and signature on a number of documents. The signature of the Governor of Jamaica, Weatherby Swann, on many of the same documents. The signature of four other Governors on certain ones. Letters of Pass. Letters of Marque. Letter of Intent, the papers of a diplomatic envoy. All made out in the name of Charles Norrington, Lord Dorset. Captain of the Odysseus. She had, in her hand, the proof she was seeking. She'd taken as her captive a very rich, powerful man. Someone who had no reason to want to go pirate, if possible. And why would he, when he had Letters of Marque?

He was a legal privateer.

Yet, he was smuggling. Running whiskey.

And that was not something the King would approve of. Was it?

But, she did wonder at something. And she voiced it out loud to the gunner who stood close by, watching. "What if he's smuggling his own goods? I do find meself wondering at that. Could the plantation be his own?"

"If that be th' case, t'is still illegal-like, sellin' untaxed whiskey." Ragetti answered, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. "Even if he distills it hisself, on th' plantation."

She considered and nodded. "Distilled on this island, it would need the seal and approval of the Governor of Hispaniola. Which would explain something of why he said he did sell it everywhere but Port Royal and Tortuga and he made no mention of selling it on Hispaniola at all. His face would draw attention in Port Royal and Tortuga, aye...what with him looking so like the late Admiral. But, what if he doesna sell directly to those two ports but goes through a third party?"

Ragetti had nothing to say on that.

Gathering the papers, Henriette stuffed them into the pocket of her frock-coat one-handedly. "Let's go back to the Pearl, Isaiah. I've a mind to sleep on it all."

"What o' Captain Norrington?" He asked, stepping back to let her go first.

She smiled to herself as they began crossing the deck of the hale little corvette. "Let him hear all about his brother, the pirate-hunter and rum-pot deckhand tonight. I'll be having me breakfast early, aye? Bring him to me, then. If he still doesn't desire to join me crew as first mate, then he can ransom hisself out of me brig."

***

Day Six.

Sunrise. The storm had slackened, but the air did feel humid and hazy which made matters difficult in breathing. With a wide slip of oil-cloth and his hat, he'd managed to capture a lot of clean rain. This, he put in with the drinking water. Overhead, the skies looked strange and grayish and, to the south---behind them---the storm still brewed. The storm they'd ridden out was not a hurricane, but damned if it wasn't like a hurricane's eye, this odd lull. Too still, too quiet. The breeze had died with the passing of the storm, but as of yet, he was resting and contemplating the charts and his compass and his sextant.

Hector sat sullenly quiet in the other boat, staring at the limitless watery horizon.

Using his spyglass, Jack did find what he was looking for. Land.

Ahead, to the north, there was land. A thin black, raised line on the horizon.

After a bite or two to eat and some watery rum, Jack tossed the extra oar to his fellow pirate and began to row. Hector followed suit, grumbling to himself.

After a small eternity of quiet, the only noise the sounds of water and oar and the creak of the long-boats' hulls, Jack broke the silence and asked, continuing to pull at his oar. "How did you end up in the long-boat?"

"T'is none o' yer blasted business, Jack, but as we be in th' same predictament here...." Hector answered. Without his hat or scarf or shirt, his matelot looked odd and very sunburnt working in the boat. His graying ginger hair swayed in time with the downward pull of the oar. "To th' best o' me knowledge, that terrible lass o' yers dosed me. An' jest after she asked to become me first mate, too, offerin' that key yer wearin' about yer neck as booty. She did want to turn back an' take ye back aboard. All contrite she was an' her as proud as a prince in those gent's rags o' hers." Hector snorted a sour laugh, pale eyes strange and sly in his reddened face. "I did drink wi' her on th' idea an' then I woke up, tied, an' adrift in this boat an' th Pearl nowheres to be seen on th' horizon."

Jack laughed on the thought of it for a while, and then, when he stopped rowing to take a drink of watered rum, he offered the bottle to his matelot with an apology. "I'm sorry as you're not in the brig. Be a mite safer, to my mind." Smiling at the snarl it earned him, he shrugged. "From what I can figure, we're nowheres near Cuba. The storm seems to have blown us north toward Nassau. As far as I can tell."

"Have ye come up wi' a plan to get us out o' this mess, yet?"

"I'm working at it." He answered, studying the storm to the south; the breeze was returning and it was definitely blowing north. Which boded well, if it didn't drown them.

Hector picked up his oar and began working again. His voice came as little more than an ugly grunt. "Don't work overhard at it, Jack me lad---wouldn't want to strain that dried up pea yer callin' a brain."

***

The sun came with a wondrous golden glow as what should have heralded singing angels or something of that nature. It was a preternaturally lovely sight, the sea and the sun melting together. Henriette had the Pearl's crew set her breakfast on the Odysseus' small quarterdeck, for a two-fold reason. She wanted to enjoy the sight of the sun's rising from the deck of her new ship---and she wanted Captain Norrington to see her enjoying it.

She was there, on the quarterdeck, even as the dawn was still gray and misty on the sea. By the time the food had been brought on platters, Charles was sitting across from her. She poured out the coffee with her own one good hand and took a deep breath in pleasure of both the brew and the morning's chilly air. The man before her looked rough, scrubby, tired, and in great pain, but he would not complain of such. It was not the cut of his jib, from what she had gathered of him. He was the type of person she did appreciate, when she could admit to the sin of admiring another�s quiet strengths---man or woman. For he was the kind of man who would sit with gritted teeth and never utter a peep or allow himself to flinch when under the knife in a surgery. His pride would not give way and it was that she found most intriguing. Rarely did she find someone of her own nature.

And he was, she was quite sure of it. They were of very similar ilk.

Captain Norrington did seem to have spent a very hard night in the brig, sitting among his crew without space to even lie down. She could imagine that no small part of his exhaustion came from the terrible knowledge to which he was now acquainted with. She, on the other hand, had spent a restful night, dosed with opium and whiskey. She had bathed and carefully dressed and, if she couldn't use her left arm as of yet, it was of little matter and she would show no weakness. She had changed the dressings and found that it was already scabbing quite nicely. There was a bit of heat and redness, but no bad smell and nothing that could not heal.

She�d had Ragetti do the same, for Charles Norrington�s wound.

Lifting her coffee, she sniffed happily and addressed her captive. "You know, Charlie, you've a marvelous ship. T'would be a waste to scuttle her. But, she does need some repairs. Repairs I intend to begin quick enough, as soon as I've decided on how to proceed. There's a small amount of damage in the gundeck, some splintering as I did see."

Charles had already tucked into the fresh biscuits and rasher of ham that had been fried up. But, now he wiped at his mouth with the napkin from his lap and gave her a nonchalant smile of his own. "I do recall something regarding a battle and some cannonade which did try to blow holes in her near the beam."

It made her chuckle and she tapped her fingers against her cheek as she looked around the deck before them and then at the Black Pearl, which did loom a full deck higher. "You know...it really is a pity that the Pearl isn't me own brave lass. I grew up with tales of her prowess and did long to climb her rigging, but I now find meself unwilling to sail under its true captain through a series of circumstances which I cannot abide."

She was thinking on how she would give the ship back to Jack in just less than a fortnight, knowing that if her plan had worked, he would be returning with her papa at his side. She could sail under them both, but not with any deep happiness. She did long for a real freedom, one of her own making. And this ship was the perfect opportunity. She intended to have it, whether its captain came along or not; but her mind was made up, concerning Norrington. He would have to sail with her, one way or another. After a closer examination of his log, last night, while drinking whiskey, she'd discovered a bit more of his attitudes concerning business and pleasure. He was, she suspected, much as Jack must have been, before going pirate. She needed a first mate who wouldn't betray her straight away---and who better than a man who declared to detest mutiny and betrayal?

"What do you mean, Madame Captain, not yours? You're the captain of the Black Pearl, are you not?" Charles asked, popping another piece of fried ham in his mouth. He had been daunting last night, at dinner, with his fine-boned English features...now, with more than a day's stubble and his dark hair loose upon his shoulders, he looked a proper rogue. And gone were most of the exquisite manners he had shown, when trying to cut the roasted pork in her cabin. Still...he was ever the gentleman and had even bowed to her, as he had sat down to join her here.

Henriette shrugged the wrong shoulder and winced at the pain that shot through her back and chest. She pushed it aside and began smearing a scone with some chutney with a delicate knife as she explained. "I'm keeping an eye on her, as it were. She belongs to me uncle, Captain Jack Sparrow. He's out gallivanting about, doing a bit of his own work as it were, and I've the guarding of his ship until I do pick him up at the tip of Cuba, in a fortnight. I've been me own captain for nigh on three years and I'm particular fond of it, but me ship L'Sauvage was wrecked in a hurricane near the coast of Africa, three months ago. Even sailing under me uncle is a bit more than I feel able to endure." She said it with a heavy sigh and then smiled at him from across the small quarterdeck table. "And here you are, Charlie, with a ship."

His eyes---so damnable, so green---narrowed as he frowned in response. "I do see your point, you know. No need to belabor it, Madame Captain."

She took a bite of the sweetened scone and licked away the chutney as did fall on her thumb. "Charlie, love, do you know what the worst as can happen to you out here, with pirates?"

The other captain's voice went chilly, to match the hostility in his eyes. "Do tell, Madame Captain."

"Please, just Captain..." She waved it off with the scone in her hand. "The worst that can happen to you, with pirates, is when a pirate takes your ship right out from under your arse and then makes you serve aboard her as naught but a swabbie. You get to live, but you pay for the privilege and in the worst way. Do you see me point?"

"Transparently...Captain." Norrington lifted the edges of his mouth in a sneer. "I can buy my freedom. The money is in Santo Domingo, with my solicitors. Name your amount."

The men of the Pearl were busy working on the deck of that ship, cleaning and preparing her for to sail. As of yet, the sails of the Odysseus were down and its deck was in an untidy state, having not been repaired immediately after the battle. She watched what she could see of the two decks---the Pearl�s was nearly out of sight, so high up---for a long moment and then answered, without even glancing at Norrington. "I don't want just a ransom. The price of your freedom is much higher than you can pay me in gold, Charlie. So, keep your gold and sail with me. Renounce your titles and go on account, at my side. Or better yet, keep your titles and even your duties as a diplomatic envoy---and use your new life as a denunciation of the King's disloyalty to His most loyal subjects. The East India Trading Company is still out there, taking business away from honest people and doing so with the King�s blessing. We could bring new celebrity to the name of Norrington."

He had nothing to answer, to that.

They ate in quiet for a while and then, just as she was refilling their coffee from the silver service, Charles Norrington spoke once more with a soft and vicious tone. "If my brother was alive, I would not dare to even consider it."

"Charlie, if your brother was alive, I'd be a-ransoming you back to him and making enough of a stink about it as to destroy his reputation and yours, too." She reached up to smooth down her forelock, which did stick out from under the line of her red scarf. "I might even enjoy that, as I've a history of me own with him."

He nodded, his stubbled face looking quite vulnerable in this moment, as he stared at his plate and cup, his eyes roving back and forth as if he could not bear to meet her gaze. But, his voice remained strong. "With the knowledge of his death and the way in which he did die...I desire only to avenge him, Captain. But, vengeance in his name cannot be possible, as I am told that Lord Beckett is also dead. I find myself at loose ends."

"Were you very close, then?" She let her voice drop to a quiet murmur, so as to keep this part very much between them. Recalling a few things which the dead Naval officer had let slip during their one strange, wobbly-legged conversation when bars had stood betwixt them, she licked away the tang of chutney from her lips and dared to ask. "You'll be Sawney to him, I take it?"

Norrington's head shot up and he stared with surprise. "You did know Jamie, then!"

"Not really, Charlie boy, and not enough for me to have known who he was talking of the one time when he did say that name to me." She resettled her arse in the chair, having reached for the long-tined fork and the fried ham. As she speared up a few pieces, Henriette murmured at her captive. "I had a long conversation with him on just one occasion, when he was quite drunk and I was behind the bars of a cell in Fort Charles---that was the last time I did see him, in fact, three years ago. But, he mentioned his brother Sawney, then, and in the last months, I was given the chance to talk with someone who did know a bit more of James Norrington's past than what would be good or proper for anyone except his very nearest and dearest of friends."

"Who's this friend of his, then?" Charles Norrington turned his head to look at the deck of the Pearl, barely visible from where they sat---it was above the line of their sight. He seemed to be looking for a soul who might fit the description. "Last night, I did hear stories of Jamie as an officer, from men who served under him at both sea and on land. I was unaware that you had managed to press any of his crew into service as pirates."

She smiled wanly. "They did not jump ships to the Pearl until after he was dead. I expect that his death had much to do with their defection. The person I do call his friend is our quartermaster's mate and she's currently not aboard. But, rest assured, Charlie boy, she will mourn your brother's passing for many years to come."

He was intrigued, it seemed, at the thought of another female pirate aboard the Black Pearl and one that had known his brother well enough to be called a friend. She knew that it would be best to let Mrs Turner introduce herself to this man---she hoped to be there when such introductions did happen, for the tales Elizabeth had shared did suggest that she had, indeed, cared a lot for Admiral Norrington. She was looking forward to the quartermaster�s mate�s reaction to Charles Norrington�s resemblance to the Admiral.

His collar and jabot were askew and now she saw that and it made her smile widen.

He looked rather disreputable, today.

When he looked back at her, his green eyes looked haunted and she lost her smile at the expression of pain that he could do nothing to hide. His words, now, lent nothing to her previous amusement. "You knew him, as well, though...do be so kind as to tell me of that, Captain. I am quite interested in knowing how my brother managed to make your acquaintance and then do something so unlike himself as to stand intoxicated before a cell in his own posting at Fort Charles and talk with a prisoner through the bars."

She began to talk of it, slowly, drinking coffee and eating as she did.

The first time she had met James Norrington, he had not yet been made a Commodore. She had been left at her tante's house on the Pantano River by her uncle and told to stay ashore for a bit. Determined to not be left behind, she had slipped away to Port Royal, to get passage to Tortuga on a packet boat. On the docks, she had run into Norrington, quite literally, face first. As she did not look reputable and might indeed be a pirate, what with her slips into profane language, her name had gone on a list---but, as she was only ten and two years of age, he had allowed her freedom.

The second time, she'd been back in Port Royal and on her uncle's trail, only a fortnight later. Having learned from several people in Tortuga---her mum, included---that Jack was likely to be headed for Port Royal with his stolen boat. She had, however, just missed him. James Norrington, just made Commodore, had been in a fine rage---preparing his ship to follow Jack, it seemed. Her uncle had stolen the fastest ship of the fleet and made a fool of the Commodore. All this had been learned in a conversation she had overheard, betwixt the Commodore and one of his men. Also in that discussion had been mention of Jack Sparrow, a blacksmith named Turner, the Governor of Jamaica, and the Governor's daughter, who the new Commodore did seem to care for. The Governor's daughter had been taken by pirates two nights before. She herself had been asking questions among the sailors on the dock, seeking Jack, and someone had not liked the nature of her questions---and turned her in to the Commodore. Who was quite interested in seeing her a second time.

On the very day he was to sail with the Governor, seeking all of the missing persons, the Commodore had looked at her from across his desk and asked if she had any ideas of where Jack might be headed. When she had declared herself to be ignorant of Jack's doings, she'd made the mistake of saying as how she had sailed in his crew previously. Commodore Norrington had been so kind as to lock her in a cell at Fort Charles with the promise of a hanging when he returned.

She had sat in that cell for just over a week. Then, when he had returned, Norrington was escorting Jack in chains. She hadn't seen her uncle up close---not close enough to speak with him, anyway---and he seemed to have not seen her at all. But, Commodore Norrington had sent for her. There, in his office, she had faced him across the desk a second time. He had asked her a lot of strange questions about Jack's history and captaincy. She had answered, knowing that it might make the difference betwixt death and freedom. No need to hide the truth, at that point. But, the Commodore had said he was loathe to hang a child and asked her to stand up before a judge and declare that Jack Sparrow had led her into a life of crime and piracy even as a child---doing so, she would earn her freedom. She had done the unthinkable, in response. Straightening her shoulders, she had said as how she considered it a great honor to serve under Jack's flag and that to hang Captain Sparrow was a criminal act unto itself. She was loyal to Jack and would never help condemn him.

Back she had gone to the cell, her death sentence signed.

The fourth time had come only a few days later. Sitting in her cell, she had heard several soldiers say something of how Jack had escaped the noose with the help of his blacksmith friend, the Governor's daughter, and mayhap even the Governor hisself. All she had felt, then, was abandonment. She was going to hang and Jack had gotten free. But, that night, as she was contemplating on how badly it might hurt to die by hanging, Commodore Norrington had come to her cell by himself and dismissed the guards. He had stood on the other side of the bars, swaying and stinking of both beer and rum. He had not worn his wig or his fancy uniform and looked instead to have risen from a very late supper in a state of deep thought to come seeking some assistance from a prisoner.

He'd talked of Jack and of the Governor's daughter and of Turner and of his own brother Sawney and how it worried at him that Sawney's anti-Crown sentiments would surely reflect badly on his naval career if they were ever discovered. He was quite concerned with the idea of what Sawney might do, now, for each new letter from his brother did bring fresh animosity and the recurring hint of dark actions. Sitting quietly against the stone wall, she had listened to him for a long time and then, at last, asked the Commodore what any of this had to do with her. He had wrinkled his brow and asked a question. Did she think she�d tell him where Jack Sparrow might set out for, on the open seas? If so, he could see his way to set her free and give her a position---despite all protocols for her sex and the nature of her previous criminal activities---to serve as an advisor in hunting down the Black Pearl.

She had agreed and wheedled him into letting her out---she had even squeezed some tears and explained as how she did need to see her own sick mum before she took up a position aboard his fine ship, the Dauntless. Commodore Norrington, very much in his cups, had fallen for it and let her go, unlocking the cell door himself, safegaining a promise that she would meet him at the docks in the morn. She had headed straight away, but stopped at the end of the stone corridor and told him that, in her considerations, if he cared anything about his brother, he wouldn't cut off contact between them. Instead, he should remember that his job was worth nothing if he didn't have people who gave a damn about him. If this Sawney was someone who would weep for his death, then Sawney was worth more than any old career. She hadn't reported for duty in the morning at the docks; instead, she had headed for Kingston Bay and taken a post as cabinboy on a merchant ship preparing to sail for Africa.

Finished with the tale, she looked up at the sky and noted the sun's position. It was time to make a decision. She sniffed and pretended that she couldn't see the remains of tears on the younger Norrington's face. He had wiped at them as they came, quick to hide the evidence.

She concluded the story, finishing off her coffee. "It was the Governor's daughter, who is now our quartermaster's mate, as what did tell me that James Norrington had only one brother. The one he referred to as Sawney, who was also the Earl of Dorset. She was once engaged to marry your brother and did seem to care a great deal for him, as a friend. They did know each other for a very long time, from the time of their passage to Jamaica. She�s also the pirate as what did tell me something of what he was like, drunk and dissolute and scullying around in Tortuga and on the Black Pearl. I wish I had known him, then. We'd have had a jolly time, as I'm told he was a terribly sullen but witty deckhand. I do suspect we would've gotten on famously."

Charles Norrington nodded, wiping at his mouth with the napkin again as he drained his own cup of coffee. He was steady once more as he addressed her. His tone was chilly and resolute. "Captain, I will take the position you do offer, as your first mate. But, only if I sign Articles as your partner in business. Anything less, I fear, will not be acceptable."

She knew that there was more to this than he was willing to say, but knew that it was no good to press the matter at this moment. She nodded in echo of his response and gave another, darker smile. "Then, we are agreed. But, be warned, Charlie boy. If you ever mutiny against me, I'll have a great deal of fun skinning you alive. I'm quite good at that. It's a win-win situation for everyone involved, if we work together as partners, but if you betray me, I'll be the only winner at the end."

He arched a fine brow at her, stiff-backed as he rose from his chair and gave her a wintry smile, despite his disreputable appearance and the obvious pain from his wound. "Yes, Captain. So, with this done, what are your orders?"

Henriette lifted her head slowly to watch him as he moved. "I've nigh on a fortnight in which to teach your men how to be pirates. Then, once Jack has his Pearl, we'll be coming back here for the purposes of picking up right where you've left off. So, we will begin today by splitting up our crews between the two ships and head south toward Porto Rico. You�ve a bit of whiskey to sell and I�ve ships to plunder. Does that sound excellent to you, Charlie?"

His tone and smile were still yet cold and quiet. "Marvelous, Captain."
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Betwixt Hammer & Frizzen