Norrington parried the thrust that would have skewered him at the last possible second. He looked more surprised than the man-fish that went by the name "Bootstrap."

James had fully expected to die, and he had accepted it without qualm, when he had freed Elizabeth and her crew. Naturally, there was a great deal of regret on his part; he regretted letting Sparrow gain a day's head start, he regretted the loss of the Dauntless and her crew, he regretted his deal with Cutler Beckett, but most of all he regretted not being able to bring himself to go with Elizabeth.

He knew that as soon as he let her go that his death would not be far behind and James was certain he had been prepared for it. And then he was reacting without thought, something ancient and animal within him cried out for life and James obeyed it.

"ALL HANDS! PRISONER ESCAPE!"

The old fish-man's voice rang out declaring Norrington a traitor and the whole crew was roused and gathered aft by the dueling men. Davy Jones materialized between the two men. Bootstrap lurched back, obsequiously awaiting orders. The Dutchman's captain clasped Norrington's sword in his claw.

"You steal my heart, you come onto my ship, murder my servants and my pet - and THAT is what grieves me the most! You killed my Kraken."

"It was Lord Beckett who ordered the death of your monster, not I. Furthermore, this man attacked me."

"Aye, and with good reason - you've let the captives away on the prize!"

James Norrington stood his ground, his eyes blazing into Jones', a silent battle raging in the space between them. The Admiral was the first to break the silence.

"You murdered my crew and sunk my ship!"

"James Norrington, do you fear death?" Davy Jones attempted to bend James' sword and render the blade impotent, but only succeeded in wrenching it from his grip when he twisted his claw. Had Norrington less class he would have spit in Jones' face.

"Contemplate this on the tree of woe, Admiral. TIE HIM TO THE MAST!" The Dutchman's crew roared with monstrous approval. James' arms were wrenched behind him and a path cleared to the mast; a gauntlet to guide his way.

Jones transferred Norrington's sword to his tentacled hand and snipped the scabbard of the Admiral's hip before he was presented to crew. Such a waste, Jones thoughts to himself as Norrington was lead to his slow and agonizing death, nice sword though. The captain then retreated to his cabin; his presence was no longer needed.

When James reach the mast he was cut and bloodied as the appendages of jeering faces lashed out at him with tooth, nail, and barnacle. Norrington's hat and wig lay in ruins on the deck, trampled by the encroaching crew in his wake. The boson slammed James face-first into the mast; he knew his nose was broken from the pain and the warm blood leaking down his face.

"What's first, lads?"

The bosom asked magnanimously.

"FLOG HIM!"

The frenzied cry came, echoing disjointedly along the deck as other voices proclaimed their agreement.

A hand pressed Norrington's head into the wood as others pulled off his clothes. His greatcoat yielded with the least resistance and was flung out to the horde to be ripped to shreds. James resisted the hands and claws ripping at his waistcoat and shirt, but his own cravat was used to choke him into unconscious submission.

Those cruel hands bared the Admiral's naked back to the crew and used the length of his cravat to lash his hands together so that he was forced to embrace the mast. A bucket was lowered over the larboard side and filled to the brim; they dumped it over Norrington and forced his consciousness.

The cat was brought forth from a rust-brown bag and snapped into action – the knots dancing about the strips of leather. James screamed himself hoarse when it flayed his back and ripped apart his skin until the blood pooled in his boots.

When the lashings no longer provoked a reaction as Norrington no longer had the strength to react to the pain, the crew demanded their own blood-sport with the Admiral.

Another bucket of sea water was flung onto James' raw back and he forced out a high and breathless sound like an animal. Norrington was limp as a rag doll when his hands were unbound and he was turned about. His back was slammed against the mast and his hands tied once again behind the mast.

Each creature was allowed his pleasure with James so long as a fatal blow was not delivered. One crewman flung an empty rum bottle at the wood above Norrington's head and the broken glass rained down on him – superficial little cuts that bleed in trickles. Another carved his name into the Admiral's chest with the sharp shells on his hands. As each tried to out-do the one before him Norrington was left with a knife in his side that pierced his muscle and pinned him to the mast. James' left eye was torn out and eaten by an eel living inside one creature's body. Norrington was urinated and defecated on. His arms were broken from wrist to shoulder and the next crewman yanked out a jagged piece of coral growing on him and embedded it into Norrington's thigh.

The Admiral sobbed quietly – retreating into his own pain – as his breaches were ripped open and he was slowly and fully castrated to the delight of all. The last creature, not willing to be outdone and possessing a wicked cleverness, broke James' jaw. A ripple of anticipation wriggled over the crew as the creature picked up Norrington's prick and bollocks. He held them high above his head with a grin on his face. The horde responded with equally feral bared teeth as they understood what would happen next. Gripping James' hair the creature held the man's head up, mouth gapping, and shoved the severed pieces of James Norrington back into him.

The crew cheered, immensely satisfied with their work, and the Admiral was left to bleed to death or to be picked apart by the gulls that morning – whichever came first. Thank God James was a million miles away; locked safely within the heaven of his own mind and wallowing in memories of days long past.