Author's note: Wow. I'm sorry it's been so long since I've updated this. I've no excuse except that I actually misplaced some of the chapters I had been working on, especially after I moved, and only recently found them. I write them out by hand, first, and while I try to keep all those papers together, it doesn't always end up that way. Combine misplaced chapters and notes with the fact that I've also been battling some writer's block, and oodles of ideas that hit from other fandoms, and you have the delay here.

I'm not entirely certain I'll be able to keep a regular update schedule, but I'll at least try to update more often. I haven't forgotten this story, or any of the others, and I'll do my absolute best to complete them.

If anyone notices any mistakes, please let me know. I've gone over this multiple times, but I don't catch everything. Also, since it's since it's been a while since I've written for Pirates of the Caribbean, I'll consider any offered ideas. No promises that they'll be used, but maybe it'll get my creative juices flowing more steadily. Thanks to anyone who's stuck around, and is still reading.

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, chances are, it's owned by Bruckheimer, Disney, or any of the other writers or financially invested individuals or parties. I own absolutely nothing.

The youth, intoxicated with his admiration of a hero, fails to see, that it is only a projection of his own soul, which he admires. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Chapter 10

Even though Brian Flynn had not been in the navy or the Caribbean very long, he already thought very highly of his commanding officers. He had only one other captain with which to compare, but between the two, Commodore Norrington had proven to be the better man. He was fair, he was honorable, and he had the respect of all the men under his command.

He also had a reputation for being one of the greatest pirate hunters in all the king's navy.

During his voyage from England, Brian had heard a great deal about the man who would be his commander. The old sailors were always telling grand stories about the different pirates then-Captain Norrington had brought to justice. They told of intricate plans; how Commodore Norrington had entered the very lairs of pirate crews and took them back to Port Royal for trial and hanging.

Though he was young and as yet inexperienced, Brian knew some of the stories had to be exaggerations—all the good tales about great men were—but the fact of the matter was that his commander had gotten rid of a large number of pirates. It didn't really matter how stories said that had been accomplished. Not to Brian. He knew that simply by serving with the man, he could learn exactly how he had done it and hopefully he could follow in Commodore Norrington's footsteps.

After all, Commodore Norrington was exactly the type of man Brian hoped to be when he grew older.

A nudge in his back urged Brian forward in line. Since he was not yet able to dine with the other officers, he and the other younger midshipmen remained below, standing in line with the rest of the crew for their evening meal. He didn't mind it so much, since it allowed him the opportunity to meet new, interesting men he would never have met at his father's estate or in good society.

" 'ow 'bout the time 'e stopped them rum runners?" old Jones said. "Wasn't a thing they could say 'r do. Ol' Eagle-eye could see down int' their very 'earts, 'e could, an' it wouldn't matter if they was lyin' 'r tellin' the truth."

"Now that time was a bit o' a shame," said another. Brian recognized him as Mathias Shaw. " 'em ol' rum runners don't mean no 'arm. Theys the ones what keep us poor sailors 'appy."

"You would 'ave 'em free an' bein' a nuisance, then?" Jones asked.

"Why not? They ain't 'urtin' no one."

Another nudge pushed Brian forward once more, and this time a plate was shoved into his hands. He was thankful they were still into the beginning of their search. The food was still somewhat fresh and free of bugs. There wasn't much he remembered about his first voyage, but the poor food stood out most clearly.

He made his way to a seat with the other midshipmen, carefully threading his way through the rest of the crewmen. It was quite a challenge, but he was quickly mastering the art of preventing his meal being jostled onto the floor or another sailor.

"It's high time you got here, Flynn," Percy Weber called out from the tiny table. Really, it wasn't much more than an overturned barrel. "What took you?"

"I had to deliver a message for Lieutenant Gillette," Brian answered.

"What kind of message?" another midshipman, and also the youngest, Jamie Bennett, asked.

"I didn't ask, and it's wrong to peek," he answered. "Where do you suppose we're going?"

"I'd say Tortuga," Percy answered. "It's the only port in this direction that pirates tend to frequent."

"What's it like?" Jamie asked. "Have either of you ever been there?"

"I haven't," Brian answered.

"Nor I," Percy said. "But Doctor Burke says it's a savage port where all manner of debauchery occurs. He also said he's seen many a good man seduced from his proper faculties. Considering the state of many of the pirates we've captured before, I'd wager it's a filthy place full of equally grubby men and women of loose morals."

"Do you think anyone from the Dauntless will be lured away?" Jamie asked.

"Not so long as Commodore Norrington is in command!" Brian immediately asserted. "He's too great a man for anyone to want to leave one of his ships."

"I should think not," Percy agreed. "Only a fool would leave as fair a command as his. Ol' Jones says he's known but a handful of commanders with the same sense of justice as our new commodore. I imagine that says a lot for him."

Jamie glanced between them. "Do you think we'll find the Interceptor and Miss Swann?"

Percy, who was much older and on the verge of becoming a junior lieutenant, suddenly grew more solemn. "I don't know, Jamie. A part of me says the sea is a vast place and it would be like finding a flea on a beach. Another part of me says pirates are dastardly fellows with no sense of honor or dignity. If anyone can find her, I'll wager Commodore Norrington'll be the one to do it."

"Of course he will!" Brian quickly agreed. He just knew Commodore Norrington could do absolutely anything.

"Mister Flynn!"

Brian turned instantly at the call from Mr. Hocker. "Aye?" The kind old cook had taken an instant liking of him, and had placed him under his wing, so to speak, but Brian had yet to figure out why, exactly.

"You best hurry along, lad. You have the watch tonight, you know."

Brian's eyes widened. In the excitement of their discussion, he had forgotten. "Thank you, Mister Hocker!" He jumped to his feet and quickly snatched up his things.

"Don't worry, Brian. You'll do fine," Percy said.

"Thanks," he answered before rushing away. He dropped his dishes in the bucket and fought his way back through the crew. He sighed in relief as the fresh sea air hit his nose.

On deck, a few sailors milled around and the night was calm with a steady breeze. There was little for any of them to do at the moment, and for Brian, that was a blessing. So far, he wasn't entirely fond of being on watch, and dreaded the day when he would become officer of the watch. What if a pirates' ship attacked? What if a man fell overboard? What if a storm hit suddenly?

Mustering more courage than he actually felt, he stepped up onto the main deck and made his way toward the staircase leading to the quarter deck. A few of the men nodded briefly, acknowledging his presence. Near the wheel, stood Timothy Kennison, one of the second lieutenants. Brian didn't know him very well, and the man rarely spoke to him in their admittedly short acquaintance.

"Mister Flynn," he greeted with a slight nod.

Brian touched the front of his hat. "Lieutenant Kennison."

They stood in silence for several long moments. Had he been able, Brian might have attempted a conversation. He could think of nothing, however, so he took his cues from the older man and remained silent. Brian shifted uncomfortably.

Only the sounds of the sails fluttering and the crew talking in low voices could be heard for miles as the ship pushed a steady path through the water. It was so very different to what he was accustomed.

"How do you find life at sea thus far, Mister Flynn?" Lieutenant Kennison asked, finally breaking the blanketing quiet.

"It's much more peaceful, for the most part, than in London," he answered. "There was always too much happening there; horses and carriages in the streets, children playing. Here, there is only the wind and the sea and the crew. I think I like it very much."

Kennison, to his surprise, smiled. It was a small one, to be sure, but pleasant enough. "You have not been aboard during a battle, yet, have you?"

Brian shook his head. "Not on a ship, I haven't, and I was at the fort when the Black Pearl struck. It was not so very bad."

"Battle aboard ship is very different than the one at the fort. You might find yourself changing your mind. Here, there is no real protection. Cannonballs slice right through the hull and splinters fly everywhere. I once saw a man killed by a large splinter that struck his chest. If we find ourselves in battle, you would do well to take what cover you can, but do not abandon your fellows."

Brian didn't say anything at first, thinking through the lieutenant's words. They were true enough, he knew, but it was difficult to feel any true anxiety for something he'd never experienced. He wasn't sure how he would react in an actual battle, but at the same time. . . "I think… I think that my opinion may not change. Battles at sea do not happen often, do they?"

"It all depends, really. One never knows how many pirate ships will be encountered, or if a Spanish or French captain will decide to attack. Every voyage differs. You are correct, however. They do not occur every day."

"I should think any battle would not be so very awful, so long as Commodore Norrington were in command," Brian said. His eyes widened, however, as the sight of that very man standing just outside his cabin door sank in to his mind. Their commander had a rather strange expression on his face; one the likes of which Brian had never seen. There was a more indulgent one on Kennison's.

The commodore's step had also faltered, but only briefly and Brian wasn't entirely certain he hadn't imagined it. Commodore Norrington said nothing, but walked to stand at the bow. The two officers on duty merely watched in silence for a few moments as Commodore Norrington stared out to sea. Flynn thought he might be in a reflective mood.

Brian was fairly certain that a good commodore would have much to think on much of the time, and Commodore Norrington was certainly a good officer.

Eventually, Kennison and Flynn settled into their duty. The lieutenant spoke more as the night progressed, as well. He spoke of his family in the American colonies and of his young wife there. He was hoping to save enough to send for her, and purchase a small home in Port Royal for her.

In turn, Brian spoke of his own family and life in London. He was the youngest of five with only one older brother, and though they were counted among the gentry, they had little enough money to show for it.

A sudden gust of wind shifted his hat and caused everyone on deck to look up and around. Does that mean a storm is coming? he wondered. Glancing around, at the others, he realized it was nothing. They had all settled back almost immediately.

Commodore Norrington, however, hadn't moved at all.

Watching a little more closely, Brian couldn't tell much about the man, except that he seemed to tower over most everyone else. He stood with his hands braced against the fore rail, and his gaze hadn't moved from the darkened, invisible horizon. Brian couldn't help but wonder what Commodore Norrington was contemplating.

Was it pirates?

Was it the state of Port Royal when they'd left?

Was it the ship?

Or perhaps more likely, those commanding thoughts centered on Miss Swann—if some of the other officers' thoughts were correct. He must surely worry for her very much.

Brian had only ever seen her at Commodore Norrington's promotion ceremony, but it was obvious to him that she was very important to the man standing so solitarily at the bow. When Commodore Norrington had pulled her aside, Brian had been able to see that his commander had cared very much for the lady.

Approaching footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. It was Commodore Norrington. The young junior officer could only look upward in mute awe as his great commander stopped beside him.

"It humbles me to know you think so highly of me, Mister Flynn," he said quietly. "Keep a weather eye out for anything out of the ordinary, and you'll do just fine. Just ask your fellow officers if you're uncertain. You'll learn as we all did." He moved on, then, with just a squeeze to Brian's shoulder.

Please let me know if my writing is still up-to-par, or if some improvement is needed—just be polite about it, please—or you can even let me know if you're just happy to see the update. Thanks for reading! =)