A Dauntless Man

by Aquaholic

I would like to thank Thresh the Sky for their wonderful artwork of DMC Norrington. The emotion captured in Norrington's eyes just blew me away and was right on the money in terms of what I was trying to capture in this story. You can view the artwork here: art/Pirates-of-the-Caribbean-Norrington-312478840

HMSDauntless–off the coast of Mauritania, Africa

Commodore James Norrington shook the rain off of his weather coat as he closed the door to his cabin. The pressure gauge on his barometer had slid past 882 millibars, the lowest marker. The hurricane intensified and the waves were rising higher and higher. Dauntlesswas listing badly to port despite the crew working through all watches at the pumps. They had also lost their canvas and laid a hawser out with a spar on the windward side. It kept them from sinking but for how long? Norrington cursed himself. He had already lost the Interceptornot three weeks ago to bloody pirates! His promotion to commodore was starting to look like some cruel joke. The ship rocked again. Right. He had a crew to save. He had to give the order to abandon ship.

The door to his cabin flew open and First Lieutenant Charles Faraday was thrown to the floor. He found Norrington's hand outstretched and he grabbed it. "Not the most graceful way to make an entrance, lieutenant," he said, dryly.

"Yes, sir. Mister Renley wishes to know if you have made your decision, sir."

The commodore nodded. "Issue the order to abandon ship, lieutenant. See to it that the boats have as much food and medicine as can be spared."

"Yes, sir!" The lieutenant shoved the door open with his shoulder. He held his tricorne with one hand to keep the wind from blowing it off.

Norrington was proud of them. Several of his midshipmen and lieutenants were quite green. They had replaced the men who were murdered by the undead pirates of Isla de Muerta. Despite everything they had handled it superbly.

Just then his thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of whimpering. He walked to the other side of cabinet and saw a midshipman balled in an upright position. The boy was around thirteen or fourteen and his teeth were chattering uncontrollably. His face was familiar to Norrington and he tried to recall the midshipman's name. He knelt so that he was eye-level with the boy and braced his hand against the cabinet as the stern rolled again. "Midshipman Brae, isn't it?" he asked

Brae looked at him and scooted further back into the wall, "Y-yes, s-sir. I-I'm sorry I a-abandoned my post, sir. W-when I saw the wave wash two of the midshipman out to sea I w-was afraid, sir. I-I'm s-sorry."

Norrington remembered that. A rouge wave washed over the decks and took two midshipmen and two sailors to their deaths. Yet even now the poor lad feared punishment. In normal circumstances the discipline would be given. Mister Brae needed to be calm for what was ahead and he would have to help him regain his composure. He fixed his eyes on the midshipman and his voice was calm. "Mister Brae, I am going to need you to do something very difficult but I suspect that you have it within you to accomplish the task."

The boy nodded, "Yes, sir."

"I've noticed that you have very keen vision, especially when you are aloft. You've been able to notice coasts and ships far off even when some of my lieutenants couldn't spot them?"

"That really ticks them off when I do that, sir. They call me 'Hawkeyes' because of it."

Norrington smiled inwardly and noticed that the boy's teeth had stopped chattering. "I would take that as a high compliment, Mister Brae. I have a special mission that I need you to accomplish with Lieutenant Faraday. It will require you to act with the utmost bravery and courage. We are going to abandon ship and I will need your acute vision to help us once we get into the boats. Your skills will be tested to their limits but I have every confidence that you will prevail."

Brae looked at him with clear eyes. "I won't disappoint you, sir."

The commodore smiled. "I know you won't." He stood up and offered a hand to the midshipman. It was a good thing because the ship rolled violently to starboard and Norrington was able to keep both of them from crashing onto the floor. They walked to the cabin doors. The commodore had to lean against the door to open it. The wind screamed and blasted rain into the cabin. He called in First Lieutenant Faraday. "Commodore, the men have readied the launches and set as many victuals and medicines in each," reported the lieutenant as he dodged into the cabin.

"Very good, lieutenant. I have a special mission for you and Midshipman Brae."

"What are our orders, sir?"

Norrington put his sextant, logs, maps, and pencils in a duffel bag and handed them to the lieutenant. "Your orders are to find the nearest port and relay our current heading to the local office of His Majesty's Royal Navy. Above all else," he looked intently at Faraday and Brae, "you are to use your wits and training to survive. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!" they said in unison.

"One last thing," added the Norrington as he slid his weather coat off. "Take this for warmth. Do take good care of it for I should like it in the same condition that it was given." He gave the coat to Mister Brae. The commodore was glad to see that the young man had collected himself and shown no sign of his earlier terror. Norrington often found that sometimes instilling trust in his charges was all that was required to strengthen their resolve.

He pushed on the door and the three of them fought the headwind as they made their way to the nearest boat. Six seamen were already seated with their oars ready to pass. Lieutenant Faraday took his place at the stern of the launch. Brae sat by the tiller. He took one final look at the commodore. The wig was blown out so much that it looked like a bird's nest. His tricorne, however, seemed to defy the wind. Everything else about Norrington's bearing bespoke calm and assurance and that gave the midshipman the confidence he needed. "Godspeed, gentlemen," said Norrington as the launch was lowered into the water. "Feather the oars!" shouted Faraday as the launch reached the sea. The sailors complied, adjusting the oar blades so they would not catch the wind. Soon they were carried away from the ship.

Norrington returned to the quarterdeck to relieve his helmsman, Mr. Stephens.

"Get into one of the launches, Mr. Stephens. I'll follow you shortly."

"But sir!" protested the helmsmen.

"That's an order, Mister Stephens!"

As Stephens turned to descend the stairs he was fixed to the spot by what he saw. The darkness of the clouds and ocean had concealed it at first, but the fierce winds and currents revealed their monstrous creation. "Mary Mother of God! Rouge wave afore, commodore! And sixty-footer at least." He ran back to the wheel to help Norrington turn the ship even though he knew it was already too late. Seamen cut the boats loose into the water and jumped after them. The prow was rising at an unnatural angle. Wood creaked in protest and the cannons could be heard straining against the chains below decks. Yard arms and booms swung wildly about.

"An honor serving with you, sir," said Stephens as both he and Norrington tightened their arms between the spokes of the wheel. "And you as well, Mister Stephens," said Norrington.

Higher and higher the Dauntlesswent until she was almost vertical. An almighty roar of water came over them, even drowning out the wind. Then everything went dark.

Two days later

Mister Brae's spyglass scanned the horizon until it found something that looked like broken wood fingers bobbing out of the ocean. "Wreckage off the starboard bow, lieutenant!"

"Make haste, men," ordered Faraday. "There may be survivors in need of help." They adjusted their course to intercept.

Faraday felt his breath quicken as he spotted three splintered masts bobbing in the ocean like teeth. Then the bodies floated by: midshipmen, seamen, gunners, helmsmen, marines. Some were face down and some were face up with expressions frozen in horror or calm acceptance. "May God have mercy on their souls and may they rest in peace," uttered one of the sailors. Several others crossed themselves. Brae remembered Norrington's calm in the storm and focused his eyes away from the bodies and further off. A glint of gold lettering caught his attention. He took one of the oars and pulled the piece of wood towards the launch. It was part of the ship's name plate. "Lieutenant!" Faraday saw the name plate and grabbed it. He wiped the seaweed off of it and placed it on one of the benches. A second piece floated by and the retrieved it.

They searched for over an hour, calling out, but the only sound to greet them was the sound of the oars against the water.

A deep racking, cough caught their attention. Brae searched through his spyglass to locate the sound. "Lieutenant! I believe it's the commodore, sir, amidships." They adjusted their heading again and, indeed, found Commodore Norrington holding onto a yard arm. They called out to him and pulled the boat next to the yard arm. Loose strands of brown hair were matted against a bloody gash on his forehead and his great coat looked as if it had passed through Hell several times. They helped him onto the boat wrapping his weather coat around him. "Have you spotted anyone el…" his voice dropped as he saw the broken name plates on one of the benches. He sat down next to it, put one of the pieces on his lap and lowered his head for a few moments. When he looked up the lieutenant and midshipman saw the haunted look in his eyes. It was an admixture of horror, shock and sadness. Faraday and Brae would never forget that look for the rest of their lives.

Faraday spoke in a soft voice to Brae, "Fetch the flask for me and keep a weather eye in case there are any more survivors."

"Aye, sir." Brae handed him the flask and he took his station to the fore.

The lieutenant sat next to Norrington and proffered the flask. "For the cough, sir."

The commodore looked at him, accepted the flask, and took a swig. He spoke quietly, "I commend you and Mister Brae for handling this with a maturity well beyond your years and training."

"Thank you, sir. What happened, if I might ask?"

The commodore let out a sigh. "A rouge wave was spotted afore and Mister Stephens and I were trying to bring her about. It capsized us and that's when I received this little gift," he said, pointing to the gash on his head.

"Doesn't it hurt, sir? It looks pretty bad," asked the lieutenant.

Norrington looked at the young man. This is the least amount of pain I'm feeling right now, lieutenant, he thought. He smiled to cover his true feelings, "It really isn't that bad, and I may have done more damage to it than it did me. Have you found Mister Stephens?"

"No sir, not yet," replied Faraday.

Thirty crewmembers survived. Mister Stephens was never found. Three days later they were discovered by a merchant vessel heading for Leeward Islands and then to Jamaica.

Someone was beating heavily against Gillette's door. He opened it and saw
Theodore Groves looking extremely pale.

"Theo, what in seven hells has gotten into you banging on my door at this hour?"

"Where is the Dauntless, Andrew? Norrington came back last evening and the ship isn't here."

"What? Then where the hellis it?" He ducked back in to get his great coat.

Both of them walked into Norrington's spacious office and found him packing a few items on his desk into a duffel bag. His wig was replaced by his long brown hair pulled back in a queue. A few tendrils of hair framed his face and beard.

"Well, good morning to you, too, James!" greeted Gillette. "Theo was beating to bloody quarters on my door this morning because the Dauntless isn't here. Did you decide to berth her elsewhere just to scare the piss out of me?"

Norrington looked at Gillette. "She's gone." His green eyes were a sea of sorrow and loss. His voice was vacant. "Capsized off the coast of Africa." He nodded towards his desk, "and that's all that is left."

The two men ran up to the table and saw the name plate broken in two.

"What happened, sir?" asked Gillette.

"While chasing Sparrow we were caught between a frontal storm and a hurricane that was moving off the Cape Verde Islands. The frontal storm pushed us right into hurricane. A rogue wave over sixty feet capsized us. Mr. Stephens elected to stay and help me bring theDauntlessaround even though it was too late."

"Survivors?" asked Groves.

"Thirty."

Gillette collapsed in the chair that was across from his desk. Now his voice was distant. "I trained some of those lads." He looked to James. "How are you holding up?"

"How do you think?" James retorted. "I have lost two ships within a few weeks of each other. My promotion is a joke, Andrew!" His anger was building like storm. "And if losing my crew wasn't bad enough I now have to listen to the rumors and gossip by people who have no idea what it's like to tie a nautical knot much less sail a ship of the line!"

"Which is why you shouldn't give a tinker's cuss about what they're saying, James. I'll be more than happy to tell them all to piss off!" replied Gillette.

"Not while you are wearing that uniform you won't!" said Norrington. The commodore seemed to have regained his usual bearing. "Besides, both of you are being promoted and I expect you not to be an embarrassment to the service as such." He pulled two scrolls from the desk drawer and handed them to the men. "I had hoped to present these under more fortuitous circumstances. You've more than earned them."

"What's the catch?" asked Groves, as he read the scroll.

"Theo's right," added Gillette. "Gig's up, James. Spill."

"I am resigning my commission."

Groves and Gillette did a double take.

"Don't look at me like that. The Admiralty will ask for my resignation soon enough. The two of you will be more than capable of taking care of Port Royal and the Caribbean in my absence."

"But you will come back, won't you, James?" asked Gillette. "The men would follow you to Hell and beyond if you told them to."

Norrington's voice was almost a whisper. "Considering recent events I am sure that the men are considering different career options." He paused, "I honestly don't know if I will return, Andrew. I need to meet with Governor Swann first and then I will leave. After that…" he shrugged.

"And where will you go after that, Captain Dashing?" asked Gillette. "Or are you Captain Scruffington now? I do like the new look, by the way. You know, it's high time we changed the dress code around here. Wool is fine in the North Atlantic but who the hell wears wool uniforms in the Caribbean?" His comment had its desired effect on the commodore.

"Gillette!" barked Norrington. "You will not abuse your station by changing the dress code!"

He continued as though he hadn't heard James, "And the men will be allowed to grow beards, although I don't think they'll look as handsome as you, James."

"This is why you need to stay here, sir," said Groves. "Drew is going to be a right mess without someone to keep in line."

"You have my sympathies, Groves," James said, dryly. "Now you will know what I had to endure training the two of you."

"I'd say we were one of the best things that happened to you, James," replied Gillette. With that he rose, went over to the other side of the desk and hugged him. "Take care of yourself, James." Groves came over as well and did the same.

"All manner of joking aside, I am proud to have served with both of you and even prouder to call you friends."

Later that day, Norrington entered Governor Weatherby Swann's office. He held the case for his ceremonial sword in one arm.

Swann's face brightened as he came from behind his desk to greet the commodore. "Ah, James! So good to see you! I take it that your mission was a success?"

Norrington gently placed the case on Swann's desk. "No governor, it was not," he said quietly.

Swann looked at the case and back at Norrington. "What is the meaning of this, James? I gave that to you as a gift for your promotion."

Norrington struggled to keep his emotions off of his face and out of his voice. It took every fiber of his military training to do so. "A promotion that I no longer deserve and wish to resign from, sir."

The governor's face blanched. "If you are doing this because you failed to catch Sparrow it is highly unwarranted. Your worth to me is not measured in station and deeds alone."

"You may alter your opinion, governor when you hear the whole story, sir. In pursuing Sparrow we were caught in a hurricane not unlike the one we encountered during our crossing from England."

"The one that went around the Dauntless and came back?"

The commodore nodded. "Though I think this storm had a mind of its own were such a thing possible. No matter what course I took…" He took a breath and continued, "Save thirty men, I lost the majority of my crew and the Dauntless, governor, and hereby resign my commission as commodore of Port Royal."

Swann embraced both of Norrington's arms, "Dear God, James! Surely you do not blame yourself for what happened!"

"The crew of the Dauntless was under my protection and my command, sir. I have already notified their next-of-kin." He paused. "Governor, the rumors and gossip are already filling the streets. Your adversaries will use this as another excuse to get rid of you. The sooner I leave here the better off we shall be."

Swann looked at him knowingly. "I suspect no one is judging you half as harshly as you are judging yourself, James. Do not concern yourself with my adversaries. I do not care what they say and I am more than capable of handling them."

Norrington allowed a small smile. "Then I shall care for both of us and take my leave." His face and voice softened for a moment. "Weatherby, you have always been like a father to me and I appreciate your care and support more than you could ever know."

"If you regard me as a father then will you not listen to a fatherly counsel? Give this time, James. You cannot be expected to make a rational decision in this state any more than you could hope to see a clear reflection of yourself in turbulent water."

Norrington shook his head. "With all due respect, sir, I have made my decision. It would only be a matter of time before the Admiralty would request my resignation, anyway. They would not look lightly on the loss of two ships and half a crew, so I leave on my own. Captain Gillette and Lieutenant Commander Groves will be responsible for overseeing the Royal Navy's presence here, sir. Should you find yourself or Port Royal to be under threat from any power then you will find no surer and loyal men to come to your aid." He turned to leave.

"Where will you go, James?" asked Swann.

James opened the door. "Good day, Governor Swann." The memories crashed through his mind and he made haste to leave the mansion before he lost his composure. So focused was he on his will that he nearly collided into Elizabeth Swann and William Turner while walking down the steps outside the mansion. Elizabeth caught the haunted look in his green eyes. "James? What happened?" He quickly apologized for almost running into them and made haste to board the carriage. "James!" shouted Elizabeth. The horses pulled the carriage away.

Elizabeth looked perplexed and worried for clearly something had unsettled him.

"You haven't heard the news, have you?" asked Will as they entered the mansion and sat in one of its spacious rooms.

Her eyebrows knitted in concern. "What news?

"Norrington lost the Dauntless and all but thirty of his crew while trying to capture Jack! He tried to sail right through a hurricane to overtake the Pearl."

Her hands flew to her mouth. "What? James would never put his crew or his ship in that kind of danger, not even to capture Jack Sparrow!"

"He was obsessed, Elizabeth. It was a reckless move on his part. He should have thought about his crew before going after Sparrow in that storm."

Elizabeth slapped him in outrage. "How dare you, William Turner! How dare you! I suppose that you are an expert at piloting around hurricanes from the work you do in your smithy!"

Turner rubbed his cheek and was shocked at how violently she had rounded on him. "What has gotten into you, Elizabeth? You haven't been the same ever since Norrington left to pursue Sparrow and you've been even more unsettled since his return." He paused and tilted his head to the side. "Or are you having second thoughts about your former fiancé?"

Her eyes glared at him with rage. "James Norrington is many things, William Turner, but he is not a reckless man. Do you know how many hurricanes he sailed us around during our crossing from England? Two. At all times he demonstrated great care and concern for his passengers and crew and he did not heedlessly put us in harm's way. The second storm was, as he called it, most fickle." She smiled at the memory. "Father and I were secured in the great cabin, although it did not spare us from the violent rolling of the ship. We were both quite sick. James was first lieutenant on the Dauntless. He would frequently check on us as time allowed. After one very violent roller nearly capsized the ship I had asked James if we were going to drown. He looked at me with such calm assurance. He knelt down so that he was eye level with me and said, 'Don't worry, Miss Swann, we are heading for less turbulent waters. The roller you felt was from the ship tacking into a different direction, and I do apologize if it unsettled you. This is a most fickle storm indeed, but that should be the worst of it.' During one of his few breaks he drew an image on a map to show us the path of the storm and the Dauntless. The storm was moving in a circle! It looked like the ship and the storm were engaged in a complex dance of avoiding each other. He said it wasn't uncommon for a hurricane to move like that but it was very rare. Two days we spent in that storm and then we cleared it on the morning of the third day."

Will's eyes were blank. "Youlove him, don't you, Elizabeth?"

She blinked as his words snapped her out of the reverie. "What? I was merely pointing out the grievous error of your comment, Will. Clearly, you have paid more attention to gossip than fact. I know from experience that James is not a man who would mindlessly risk the lives of his crew or his ship."

Turner shook his head. "I saw your face as you talked about Norrington. There is more than just fondness present though perhaps you are still unaware of it."

"What are you saying, Will?"

He stood up to leave. "I think you need to examine your heart, Miss Swann, to see what truly lies there. As for our engagement, I release you from it so that you may discern which man you truly love." He bowed. "Good day, Miss Turner."

Elizabeth stood up. "No! Wait! Will!" But he was already gone. She plopped unceremoniously onto the couch. "A fickle storm, indeed," she said to herself