The great ship had black sails, as onyx as the darkest night. James' jade eyes narrowed. "Bloody hell."

The Dauntless limped towards the island, the heavy winds carrying on their relentless onslaught as the icy rain came down in sheets. The Commodore sneered, watching through his eyelashes as the Black Pearl sailed through the tempest, fighting her way towards the shore.

"Commodore." A small, frightened voice said next to the shell of his ear.

"Yes, Captain Gillette?" He asked sharply, sneer transforming into a scowl as a familiar figure appeared at the wheel of the Pearl.

"We won't make it to shore." Gillette said softly, watching and trying to gauge Norrington's reaction.

James immediately stiffened. He knew the Dauntless was hurt…but to have her die here, to have her fall below the water here, in this nameless cove of this nameless isle…it was horrible.

"I see." His hand clenched into a fist on the last bit of railing on this side of his ship. "We shall have to swim, I presume? There is no other way?" James asked, voice tight with anger and anticipation as the rain lashed down upon the deck, stinging his face and neck.

Gillette smiled sadly. "We can make it a little farther more, Commodore. Then, yes, we must swim." He responded quietly.

James licked his chaffed lips. "Of course. When she…" He took a deep, shuddering breath and continued in a strained voice, "When she goes down, my orders are to abandon ship and swim to the isle. Save what you can, and that is all. We shall regroup on shore."

Gillette nodded. "Yes sir." He said, voice shaking.

Gently, the Captain rested a hand on his Commodore's shoulder and squeezed lightly. "It'll be alright, sir. We'll make it through."

James offered a curt nod and watched as Captain Jack Sparrow and his Black Pearl sailed past them and into the cove. He withdrew his pocket telescope and lengthened it, glaring out across the stretch of water towards the pirate vessel.

Sparrow turned and grinned, watching him through his own telescope. James scowled as the pirate saluted him clumsily, grinning like a loon. He pursed his lips and made a rude, very un-Navy like gesture at the pirate.

Jack looked affronted for a moment, then repeated the gesture with his right hand in an elegant manner. James closed his telescope with an audible clack and stowed it in his pocket.

He then turned to survey the damage done to his beloved ship. She was, indeed crippled, and would not make it all the way to the beach. Biting his lip, he let out a deep, shuddering breath and blinked away the tears welling up behind his eyes.

Her main mast was snapped, the wood lying splintered across the desk with her sails tangled in utter disarray. The rails were smashed, the deck covered in burns and still crackling flames.

The Spanish galleon had snuck up behind them, unseen and unnoticed, and had completely destroyed their defenses. James had not been injured, luckily, but he had lost most of his crew. When they had been mortally wounded, the galleon had vanished into the mist, as silently as she first came, guns blazing.

Shaking his head in defeat, James turned away and watched as Sparrow and his crew made port best they could on the scraggly little island. Reaching up and pulling his hair back into a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck with the satin ribbon, he cleared his throat and faced his crew.

Or, what was left of it, at least. Less than ten men, two of which were boys no older than fourteen. Another two, Gillette and Groves, the closest things he had to friends. The surgeon had made it, as had the cook. Three others were merely midshipmen. Sighing, he called, "Does everyone have what they need?"

Nods and mumbled agreements went up from the small crowd. James nodded back. "Let's go then, shall we?"

He watched as Gillette guided the crew over the remnants of the rail and into the churning water of the small bay. James ran one hand over the smooth wood, fighting back the hot, desperate tears welling up behind his eyes.

"I'll miss you, old girl." He whispered, voice barely recognizable above the waves crashing against the side of his ship.

Slowly, he bent his head for a moment of silence, than looked up and smacked his palm against the rail. "Be free, old girl." He said softly, firmly.

"Commodore?" Groves called quietly. "Are you coming?"

"Yes. Give me a moment." James replied.

He felt the deck roll beneath his feet, and he adjusted his weight. He cast one final glance over his beloved ship, than swan dived over the rail and into the water.

Coming up for air with a gasp, he began to swim towards the shore. Before he was half way there, he heard the great creak and snap of wood, the groan of the Dauntless going under the water.

He had turned, tears streaming down his face at the loss of his ship. "Be free." He choked out, voice rasping in his throat as he watched her slip beneath the waves.

Taking a deep breath, he dove under the water and began to swim towards the beach again, contemplating not even bothering to return to the surface. He could join the Dauntless in her watery grave. He would eternally be with the only girl who'd ever loved him, ever cared.

But, he eventually had to come up for air, and he found he wasn't brave enough to stay under the water until he passed out from lack of oxygen. Lungs burning, he stumbled onto the beach and collapsed half in the water, his face pressed against the sand.

Laying limp, he barely registered Gillette rushing to his side and shouting something. He watched, eyes half-lidded as several other members of his crew came running over, crying out for him.

Taking one last breath of the humid air, the rain mixing with his salty tears, he let himself fall into the darkness of unconsciousness.

-ooOoo-