Author's Note: Welcome to chapter eight. I apologize for the great delay between this chapter and the last but right now I am juggling schoolwork, a family crisis and writer's block. I thank you, my readers and reviewers, for your patience and understanding. I promise to do my best to get chapter nine up in a more timely fashion. Speaking of reviewers I would like to thank Dancing En Pointe, ElfLuver13, Jousting Elf with a Sabre, Mystress of the Dark, Rosalyn Lavoisier, EmySumei and Jackeroe for your wonderful reviews and encouragement. Also I would like to thank my beta Mystress of the Dark for her help with this chapter. I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean or its characters.
Chapter Eight A Stormy Rendezvous
Little James pouted and kicked his legs against the wagon bed. Even the sharp eyed glances of his sister could not quell his rage. For two days he had been forced to reside with the Turners, a matter that did not please him at all. Now he found himself headed to church, which was another pastime that displeased him. Every Sunday he whined and schemed to avoid the inevitable. But his mother never paid mind to his tantrums. And neither did Elizabeth Turner.
"I hate them," he mumbled despite his sister's shushing.
"What?" Young Samuel Turner watched the siblings with gentle brown eyes. He was a sweet child and did not understand the constant bickering that existed between them.
"He wasn't speaking to you," Nelly snapped back at him. The boy was about her age, but she did not find him at all agreeable.
"Oh." The corners of Samuel's mouth turned down in disappointment.
Nelly rounded on her brother. "Be good or I shall tell Mama when she returns."
"Where is Mama?" Little James asked, momentarily forgetting his upset.
Nelly glanced at the Turners who sat in driver's seat with their backs turned to the children. "I can't tell you."
"Humph!" Little James slumped his shoulders and pouted.
Will clucked his tongue softly to the brown mare that pulled the wagon. Her ears swiveled and she picked up her hooves in a smart trot. Beside him sat his wife, festooned in her Sunday best, a soft yellow gown with a floral print. Driving to church when the weather permitted had become an anticipated event for the small family. After the service they would take the wagon along the more scenic roads of Port Royal, where Elizabeth would point out all the exotic plants and flowers to her eager son.
This Sunday, however, promised to be not so cheerful. Dark thoughts weighed heavily on the minds of both Will and Elizabeth. They worried for Norrington and his wife but especially for their children.
"It is strange for Jack, don't you think?" Elizabeth whispered as the children chattered behind them.
Will whipped his head about and stared at his wife. She never mentioned their old friend's name in public. "Jack, strange? I thought we had that one detail sorted out."
"Well, he is strange." Elizabeth ran her fingers over the edge of her fan. "But," here she lowered her voice even more, "to kidnap Mrs. Norrington. He wouldn't take such a risk."
"What makes you think he did?" Will murmured.
Mrs. Turner glanced back over her shoulder to see if the children were listening. "He left a letter, Will."
"That means nothing. It could be a forgery."
"But who?"
Will shrugged as he guided the horse around the bend. "An enemy, perhaps. We both know Jack has plenty."
"Still, that would cause too much trouble. The said enemy would find Norrington bearing down upon him in no time. Come, Will, you don't truly believe Jack is guilty."
Will said nothing.
But Little James had plenty to say.
"I want to know where Mama is," he begged so that Samuel stared at him curiously.
"Shh!" Nelly nudged him in the ribs. "It is a secret."
"I don't care!" Little James elbowed his sister back, tears welling in his eyes. "Tell me!"
"You're too little," Nelly snapped. "Mama only told me."
The boy turned to glare at her as the first few tears streaked down his cheeks.
"Why?"
Nelly sighed. "Because you can't keep a secret."
"I can keep a secret," Samuel piped up. The Norrington children ignored him.
Little James buried his face in his hands and began to cry. Nelly felt a twinge in the pit of her stomach. With her parents gone she believed it her duty to take on the responsibility of caring for him. And after all, she thought, it couldn't really hurt now.
"Hush and I'll tell you," she whispered. Little James rubbed his fingers over his eyes and sat up straight, looking at his sister expectantly. Samuel leaned forward as well.
"Mama has gone on a sea voyage. She told me right before she left."
"What is that, Nelly?" Elizabeth directed her motherly gaze towards the girl.
When his sister failed to answer, Little James took it upon himself. "Mama has gone on a sea voyage. Mama said so."
"Your mother told you this?" Mrs. Turner laid a tense hand on her husband's arm but kept her voice calm.
"Yes," Nelly mumbled, her expression miserable. The secret was out.
Will pulled back on the reins and the wagon slowed to a stop. "Mrs. Norrington knew beforehand?" he asked his wide-eyed wife.
"Yes," she managed. "Then that means…"
"Jack didn't…"
"And Norrington's after him." Will paled. "Dear God, he must know."
"How?" Elizabeth whispered.
But Samuel answered for his father. "Mother, are you going on a sea voyage too?"
He walked along the moors, but not the moors of England. These were wild and green, speckled with purple heather and rough stacks of drying peat. It was a place he had heard of many a time, but still it felt strange and foreign. A thin muddy road stretched over the green plains. Ruts from wagon wheels filled with icy puddles. Bitter winds blew, pungent with the earthy smell of the land and mist... His cheeks soon grew moist from the drizzle... Someone was calling.
"Sir! Sir! You are needed on deck, sir!"
The image faded before him, the last bit of restless sleep floating away like a vapor caught on the breeze. Norrington jerked up from his cot. His cabin door had blown open and through it seeped a steady rain. He was damp all over. Last night he had forced himself to retire to his quarters, if only to keep his strength up for the search. Though as expected he tossed and grumbled, unable to dull the worries.
"Commodore, sir." Lieutenant Groves poked his head through the doorway. Gillette followed on his heels.
"Yes." Norrington rose to his feet, joints aching from the chill that had settled into his bones. "I'm here, gentlemen."
Gillette pushed his way past Groves and lunged into the room. "James, she's been sighted."
Immediately he was alert. "How far off?"
"Not far and with the wind in our sails we should catch up to the Pearl in no time."
An unknown strength filled him. He pushed past Groves and Gillette, bounded up to the top deck and perched himself by the railing. Norrington's heart thudded like the dull cadence of a snare drum summoning the men to inspections. He held his breath as he searched the fog, ignoring the curious stares he received from the sailors.
"Blasted mist, I cannot see a thing," he growled, slamming his palm against the rail.
"Here." Gillette had hurried up to his side and offered him a spy glass. "Just to the south she was spotted. Looks quite different since the last time I saw her, but still she's unmistakable."
Norrington scanned the horizon impatiently.
"There, to the south," Gillette directed once more and pointed his finger towards the indistinguishable swirls of mist.
The wind blew and parted some of the fog. Norrington caught sight of the mast and followed it down to see a glimpse of the deck. Thunder groaned above as a fresh spattering of rain washed against the Dauntless.
"Should we run out the guns?" Gillette asked.
The Commodore lowered the spyglass from is eye. "No, that's not what Sparrow instructed."
"You don't mean to follow the madman's orders?" the Lieutenant gasped.
"Sir, it's not wise," Groves interjected, finding his place by the railing.
Norrington grimaced. "Let fly a white flag, tell the men to keep their weapons low and under no circumstances are they to open fire."
Groves and Gillette exchanged bewildered glances.
"Unless," Norrington allowed, "I order it."
"Yes sir."
"Right away, sir."
The Lieutenants left him, issuing commands in curt, unrelenting tones. Norrington watched them with a hawk's eye. They would have to appease the pirate now. Especially when his wife's life was at stake.
Emer stood by the helm, a precarious, uncomfortable place. To her the helm was a station for those who knew the ways of the sea and ships. Since she knew nothing of either she thought her presence most unwanted.
But Jack had summoned her there for a reason. She watched the Captain of the Black Pearl as he, in turn, searched the seas. Gibbs grasped the helm like a man in the throes of agony. The waves were playing with the ship and he fought back, struggling to keep her on a steady course. Anamaria sniffed the wind with an all-knowing air.
"Big storm a'coming," she announced.
Emer whirled on her, unable to keep away her fear. "What does that mean?"
"A lot of things," the pirate woman answered. Emer's desperation softened her response some. "Don't fret over it yet."
Jack's cry sounded over the gushing wind. "There we go. I see her. It's the Dauntless all right."
"Are you sure?" Emer hastened to his side. "How can you be sure?"
"Take a look yourself, love, she's just coming through that heavy bank of fog. Ye should be able to catch a glimpse of her colors."
A mighty hull sliced through the low clouds like Noah's own ark. The British flag clung to its ties.
"Dammy," Gibbs groaned as he caught sight of it too. "Making good time, she'll be even with us before we have a chance to draw breath again. What's the plan, Captain?"
"Lower the anchor," Jack replied, tearing his eyes away from the approaching ship.
"What?" Both Anamaria and Gibbs cried. Emer made the sign of the cross.
"Jack, I'm used to ye daft flights of fancy," Anamaria spat, "but this is just plain madness!"
"Just do it," he ordered. Lightening streaked the sky. "And pray that old Norrie read me letter well."
"They're stopping, sir!" Gillette raced along the deck. "They have lowered their anchor!"
Norrington kept his gaze fixed on the white flag that jerked unsteadily upwards as a few sailors attempted to raise it. Hopefully Sparrow would be able to make out in the fog.
"Sir," Gillette addressed him again. The Commodore still didn't respond. "James!"
"I know Philip, I know," he mumbled at last.
Gillette grasped the railing as a forceful wave struck the side of the ship. 'What orders?"
Norrington stared at the massive form of the Pearl lingering in the water ahead of them. It reminded him of a mountain rising above the clouds.
"Lower our anchor as well."
"Sir?" Gillette recoiled. His jocular face went hard with concern.
"Sparrow will feel pressed if we pull up beside him. We must keep him calm at all times. The more anxious he is the greater the chance for rashness on his part. Understand?"
"I…yes sir." The Lieutenant's shoulders sank beneath the blue of his coat as he moved away to issue the command.
Jack paced the top deck, now slick with rain. Worried, even angry glances followed him. The crew was not happy having such a powerful Navy ship on their tail and when the command to drop anchor rolled about, some looked down-right mutinous. Jack could do nothing but offer them reassuring glances.
"Anamaria," he called. "Take Mrs. Norrington below and stay there till I call for ye."
She grasped Emer by the forearm. "Aye."
"Wait!" Emer pulled away. Her face had paled by several degrees till it resembled a length of white linen. "Why? James will not see me. Don't you dare try to fool me, pirate!"
"What do I have to gain in foolin' ye?" Jack spun around to face her. "It won't do neither of us any good to have ye strolling about the decks in plain sight of yer husband. Last thing I want is him dancing with rage. He might try to pull off some rescue attempt if he thinks he can get to ye. Instead he'll pull his ship up and ask to see ye. I'll bring ye out from below so he'll be satisfied yer safe. Then he will have no worries comin' over to us to bargain. Yer husband will know I'm not bluffing. Savvy?"
Emer glanced towards the approaching Dauntless, her face taut with worry.
Jack shook his head. The beads braided into his hair twitched like a nervous cat's tail. "Just trust me." He nodded at Anamaria who escorted her charge below.
The Dauntless and the Black Pearl both slid to a halt just far enough away for comfort but close enough so that dim figures could be seen pacing the decks. The restless waves seemed destined to smash the two enemy ships against each other or tear them apart with the ferocity of the wind. Captain Sparrow and Commodore Norrington faced each other across a distance of stormy water.