Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or even the plotbunny, just the writing.
Hey, Rennie1265? Remember that plotbunny we discussed in passing last year? Bet you thought I forgot, or wasn't going to do it. (grins)
As per usual, anonymous reviews get answered in my profile.
Despite his ambitions, Commodore Norrington had never really believed after that memorable one day's head start that he would see Captain Jack Sparrow dead.
It had been hard enough even to believe the reports that the Black Pearl had come to the rescue of an ambushed and outnumbered passenger ship. Of course, "rescue" might be too strong a word for wandering over, disrupting the other pirates' herding of the children on the vessel into a longboat, firing on the attacking ships with both normal shot and less conventional (and more insulting) projectiles, and cheekily sailing off with the affronted raiders in hot pursuit.
But as he stared down at the battered leather three-cornered hat floating among the shattered black timbers, it seemed that Captain Sparrow's luck had finally run out. The Dauntless was silent, the marines lined up at the rails staring somberly at the wreckage. Seasoned sailors, they all knew without it needing to be said that not even the legendary Pearl could have left that much splintered wood and still escaped sinking.
Normally with pirates, that still left open the possibility that the crew had escaped, in a lifeboat or on whatever vessel had wreaked the destruction. With any other captain, or any other ship, he would have been able to convince himself that the swaggering rogue was still around somewhere, probably in a pub boasting outrageously about his narrow escape. But Norrington knew with a bone-deep certainty that whatever else Sparrow might have done, he would not have abandoned the Black Pearl.
Norrington's lips thinned. He might not have been overly fond of Sparrow, but it seemed profoundly unjust that he should die at the hands of worse scum in apparent retribution for one of the more decent acts of his career. A glance around the ship confirmed that such sentiment was widespread.
This was not right.
Some felt that this was not a fitting end for the legend. Some hated that pirates had taken life again in their waters at all. Some believed only the men of the Royal Navy should have brought the pirate to final justice. And some, especially those who had met the man in person, simply mourned his passing.
Groves was the first to bow his head, silently removing his hat. A few others followed his example, but most of the men, especially those of lower rank, sent nervous glances up at the Commodore standing expressionless on the upper deck.
Norrington did not appear to take notice, gaze still off somewhere in the fog. He stood so still that it took a few moments for anyone to notice that one hand had risen to remove his own hat so precisely the hairs beneath seemed undisturbed.
And then his lips pressed together in decision, and he turned, taking a few deliberate strides. The hat dropped neatly to rest on the top of a barrel, the hand that had held it seizing a long pole instead. Before any of the still-stunned marines thought to move their commanding officer had skillfully caught Jack Sparrow's battered leather hat on the tip of the pole and brought it up to the reach of his waiting hand.
Holding a pirate's dripping headgear instead of his own, Corrington finally turned to face his men, eyes dark and jaw set.
"We will find who did this," he told them calmly, matter-of-fact. "And they will pay."
Not a man spoke.
Some agreements are too deep to voice.
Somehow, a sturdy nail found its way into the mast and the battered leather hat its way onto the nail, hanging there as though watching for any sign of those who were responsible for the death of its owner.
Norrington couldn't quite work up the will to glare at it after what he was doing sank in.As if his new self-imposed mission wasn't enough to add to his headaches, strange things began to happen in the weeks following the hat's arrival onboard, provoking uneasy whispers and nervous glances among the crew.
It wasn't much at first. He brushed off the first reports of noises in the night and the sudden reluctance of the crew to be out alone after sunset while at sea as residual nerves, memories of the undead pirates stirred up by the reminder of their former captain. Really, it was ridiculous for grown, battle-seasoned marines to suddenly develop a fear of the dark.
And then the Dauntless and her escorts arrived in time to frighten off a lone pirate ship before it could loot the merchant vessel it had been about to prey on, though not before it had been damaged beyond seaworthiness, and there had been no real choice but to transfer the crew and cargo aboard the Navy ships to be put ashore at Port Royal. The trouble was, upon arrival, a case of rum that had been stored aboard the Dauntless was nowhere to be found. Everyone, crew and rescuees, denied any knowledge of what had happened to it. Norrington had finally sighed inwardly, chalked it up to the nature of both soldiers and sailors, and compensated the irate owner himself rather than deal with the whole mess any longer.
But he didn't have much time to think about the incident, since they were having unexpected luck in locating pirate ships and hideouts. An amazing amount of luck, really. Things like a pirate falling over the rail, the splash and resulting cursing tipping the Navy ships off to where the pirate vessel had attempted to hide in the dark, lights doused. Or when a crew of raiders had been too busy counting their loot to notice them coming through the fog. That had to be it, the fog had been thin enough for the Navy men to see the other ship clearly. Odd, they didn't usually get much fog this time of year. Then there was the lantern accidentally left on in a smuggler's grotto when the Dauntless had passed by on the way back to Port Royal after a day's fruitless searching. Funny how these things seemed to happen more often at night, even though the patrols were out more often in the day.
But it started getting really difficult to rationalize on one of the night cruises that Norrington had experimentally ordered on the rationalization that the scum they were after seemed more active after sunset. It was one of the warm Caribbean nights where the stars blazed down from a dark sky, and Norrington was glad that there was enough wind to keep them moving, albeit slowly. From his position at the forward rail, he kept a watchful eye on the sea and coast before them for any signs of illicit activity. And if it also meant he got a glimpse or two of the heavens' glory, well, that was neither here nor there.
At a gasp from behind, though, he spared a part of his attention to listen to the happenings aboard his own ship, relaxing slightly as he heard footsteps hurrying toward the source and Mullroy's voice raised in query.
"What's the matter?"
"The water! Look at the water!" Murtogg sounded uncharacteristically panicked for a veteran of the battle with Barbossa's cursed crew.
"What, that? Don't be daft, you've seen the water glowing before, it happens sometimes."
From his position, Norrington frowned slightly. While not overly common, it was certainly not unheard of for the waters of the region to give off a ghostly phosphorescence at night when disturbed by ship, paddle, or hand. He personally put it up to a sort of weather, though he could understand someone getting a bit of a turn from their first time seeing a ship leaving a glowing trail through the waves. But Murtogg was no green hand to be so frightened. Perhaps the undead pirates had affected him worse than they'd suspected? But his train of thought was interrupted by Murtogg's emphatic correction.
"No, not that! There!"
The sound of the normally more levelheaded Mullroy letting out a yelp of alarm sent Norrington running to see what was the matter. Before he could even finish asking Mullroy was pointing out into the darkness, eyes wide and mouth open. There behind them was their wake, luminous against the dark sea, as Norrington had expected.
What he had not expected was the second wake glowing in the night beside and behind the Dauntless, a wake keeping pace with them exactly.
A wake with no ship that could be seen to cause it.
Comments are good. Criticism is even better.
And there will be more of this when I get the time and brainpower to see to it, which might admittedly take a while. Not /much/ more, though; maybe two more chapters.
So, Rennie1265, I did it. Now if you want it done properly /you'll/ have to take a stab at it. (evil grin)