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Chapter Text

The men climbed wearily out of the longboats, stepping onto the unfamiliar sand and reluctantly accepting the refuge it offered. Those who could walk helped their comrades who couldn’t. A few of them cast occasional glances towards the fading horizon and the smoke still rising from the abandoned ship they had left behind.

The attack had been unexpected and unprovoked, and should have been easily handled. The band of so-called pirates were hardly prepared to withstand a fight against the men of the Royal Navy, and they knew it. They focused their energies on destroying the ship instead. The ambush had barely been underway before a mast had fallen and the remaining sails were burning. The crew of the HMS Reverie managed to sink the enemy ship, but not before most of the crew sustained a variety of injuries, and not before the fire rendered their own ship damaged beyond repair. This island was their only option. They gathered the supplies and rations they could carry, and abandoned the Reverie at the horizon. 

Commodore James Norrington stepped on to the shore and paused for a moment. All things considered, their situation could be a lot worse. It could have been much better, of course. There were casualties, of course, and of the men who were still breathing, many were injured, some fatally. But the beach was plentiful with vegetation, and even showed some signs of civilization. It was likely they could find a settlement nearby that could assist them. Lieutenants Gillette and Groves had taken a small group of men up ahead to look around.

James' only consolation was that the Reverie was an old ship, mere years from being decommissioned, and not his pride and flagship, the Dauntless. It was likely due to the ship’s own inadequacies that it was so easily damaged beyond repair. He was already mentally drafting a strongly-worded letter to the admiralty, reminding them of his concerns about the seaworthiness of that ship and his numerous requests for it to be put out of its misery.

James closed his eyes for a moment and tried to ignore the sharp throbbing in his left side. He didn’t dare look down at the deep gash made against his ribs by an enemy’s blade. It was painful and likely still bleeding, but he was reasonably certain it wasn't fatal. As long as he didn’t look at it, he could tell himself it wasn’t bad.

“Everything all right, sir?” Gillette asked.

James drew in a breath. “Fine,” he said, opening his eyes. He doubted anyone else knew the wound was there, and for the moment he wanted to keep it that way. The men stood or sat or lay in small groups across the beach, tending to the wounded, resting their spent bodies, and waiting, while their ship burned in the distance. There was nothing to be done now except find shelter and make a camp for the night. “Our first priority is to find shelter and water.”

“We found what looks like a small village just ahead,” Gillette said.

The beach ran up against a sparse wooded area, and a small footpath ran through the trees, away from the beach. It seemed a promising sign that someone lived nearby. James slowly followed the lieutenant, pausing along the way to offer some encouragement to the men who sought it from him. He did his best to hide his own exhaustion and pain to tell them, Well done, Good work, and We’ll make a camp and get some rest tonight.

They reached the edge of the beach and Lieutenant Groves met them halfway up the path, walking with a pronounced limp.

“Are you injured?” James asked.

“Not badly,” Groves said. “I wrenched my ankle. I'll manage."

"Gillette tells me you found a village."

“Something like that,” Groves said. “We found houses, or huts, I suppose. It’s more of a camp than a village. But no sign of inhabitants.”

James frowned. That was odd. The footpath clearly wasn't abandoned. It wasn't at all overgrown, and from the looks of the vegetation on either side, it wouldn't take much neglect for the path to be reclaimed by the woods. It had been deliberately kept clear.

“There’s plenty of shelter,” Groves continued, leading the way to a small clearing at the end of the path. “It’s strange walking around an abandoned campsite, but if it really is abandoned I suppose there’s no harm in using the huts for shelter.”

“We don’t really have a choice,” James said. The footpath opened into a sandy clearing where rows of small makeshift huts stood in a wide circle. They were made of rough log, mud, dried brush and palms, and even tattered blankets. They did appear abandoned. The only recent footprints belonged to the lieutenants and the men who were cautiously exploring the area.

“Have you found water?” James asked. He stepped up to one of the huts for a closer look. As rudimentary as its construction was, it was obvious that a settlement like this would have its own supply of fresh water.

“Not yet,” Groves said. “But there must be some nearby. I’ve got a few men looking around. They’ll find it.”

James nodded, and turned away to look at the hut again. He looked around the clearing again. The place gave him an uneasy feeling, and he couldn’t figure out why. Maybe it was like Lieutenant Groves said, just the eerie feeling of being in a place that had been recently abandoned. Maybe it was the heat. The sun was low in the sky, but the heat was still heavy over the island.

James wiped the dirt and sweat from his forehead, doing his best to push the uneasiness from his mind for the sake of the men who needed a place to rest for the night. “This place should be more than adequate for tonight’s camp,” he said. “Have the men start bringing the injured, and divide the rations.”

“I’ll make sure they find a water source,” Groves added. The two lieutenants started up the path towards the village, where a few sailors had already begun bringing supplies up from the beach.

James started to follow, but the movement made the pain in his side erupt. He reached for the side of the hut to steady himself. He was uncomfortably warm, and suddenly dizzy. He unbuttoned his collar and tried to clear his head with a few slow breaths.

Gillette paused and turned back. “Sir?” he asked. “Are you sure you're all right?”

Gillette's words were muffled, and though both he and Groves were suddenly hurrying back towards James, they seemed to be getting farther away. James' head swam, throbbing in time with the pain against his ribs, and the wall of the hut wasn’t going to keep him upright much longer.

“Oh, shit,” James said. He felt a strong set of hands on his arm and he felt his legs folding underneath him, and then there was only darkness.

Chapter Text

James groaned as he felt the world returning. His side was throbbing.

“Doctor, he’s coming around.”

James put his hand to his side and found bandages there, binding the fresh wound. He was lying on a cot inside one of the huts. His coat was missing and his bloodstained shirt was unbuttoned to make way for the bandages that wrapped around his ribs. Lieutenant Groves was sitting on a cot across the small room. Talbot, the ship's surgeon, came to James' side and helped him sit up on the cot. James grimaced as the effort made the wound hurt and the motion made his head swim.

"Drink this," the doctor said, and handed him a cup that smelled like rum.

James accepted the drink. It was strong, but not unpleasant.

“Whoever owns this place has an impressive stash,” Doctor Talbot said. “We thought it would be all right to borrow a bit. For medicinal purposes, of course. Better?”

James nodded and handed the cup back when it was empty.

“I’ve got you all patched up,” the doctor said, setting the cup aside. “The wound’s not so bad, but you'll have to be careful not to open it up again. Have some water, and get some rest tonight. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

James nodded his thanks. Talbot gathered his medical supplies and left to go see the many others who needed his attention.

“Gillette went after some fresh water,” Groves said, after the doctor had gone. “Volunteered to go the moment he got a look at that wound of yours so he wouldn’t have to watch the doctor clean it.”

James put his hand on his side again, feeling the bandages that were wrapped around his ribs. The bleeding had stopped, but the rough fabric cut into the wound every time he tried to draw a deep breath. He looked over at Groves sitting on the other cot. The lieutenant’s boot was missing and he sat with a blanket rolled up like a pillow under his injured ankle. “Is it broken?” James asked.

“Just sprained. And sore,” Groves replied. “How do you feel?”

“Like an idiot.”

“Well, you are an idiot,” Groves said. “You were just standing there, bleeding to death, and all you had to say about it was ‘oh shit.’”

“I don’t remember that.” James rested his head on his free hand, and he tried not to think about his side or the pounding in his head or the fact that he was starting to feel a bit nauseated. He tried to ignore the thought that he and the men were in a dire situation, and he tried to tell himself that things would look better in the light of the next day. He was sure he’d feel better in the morning, after some rest. Then he would be able to better assess the situation and he’d find a plan to get the crew home safely.

Gillette returned and handed James a canteen of fresh water. “We found a spring,” he said. “Just a short walk past the far edge of the village.”

That was good news. With a source of fresh water nearby, they could survive on the island until they were able to find passage home. Or until the owners of the huts returned and reclaimed their village.

James drank the water and looked around the hut. It was smaller than it looked from the outside. The illusion was probably due to the cluttered state of the interior, which held several cots, an uneven wooden table, and even a set of crooked shelves nailed to one of the walls. There were no windows, but the amber evening light found its way inside through cracks in the ceiling and walls, and around all four sides of the makeshift front door.

The rest of the crew were making camp, Gillette reported, using the huts as shelter and storage for the rations and supplies that had been rescued from the ship. A double watch rotation had been assigned, to keep an eye out for any threats, and to put everyone’s mind at ease while spending the night in an unfamiliar place after the day’s ambush. Doctor Talbot was still tending to the injured, Gillette said, but there were relatively few in danger of succumbing to their injuries.

It was a moment before James realized how out of place the cots were. He looked up and frowned, glancing around the interior of the hut again, taking the time to study every detail. The craftsmen who had constructed the little dwellings were clearly untrained for such a task, and likely using primitive tools, if any. The cots, in contrast, were expertly crafted. They were remarkably similar to the beds in some of the cabins aboard the Reverie, or any other ship. The shoddy wood shelves held some useless trinkets and glass jars half-full of suspicious liquids, but they also held silver cups and other metal utensils.

“What’s wrong?” Groves asked, seeing the Commodore’s frown.

“That cup,” James said, nodding to the shiniest piece on the shelf. “What’s the insignia on the side?”

Gillette picked it up and looked at it for a moment, then looked over at the Commodore. “Sir, it’s…” He stopped and looked back at the cup. His brows creased in confusion. “Well, have a look.”

James took the cup and turned it over. He recognized the insignia immediately. It was the mark of the East India Trading Company, the most influential agency on the waters. The leaders of the Company were nobles and lawmakers. It would be extraordinarily out of character if any officers of the Company had chosen to make their residence in such primitive lodgings. If the huts belonged to the Company, surely they would have been more carefully constructed.

“What business would the East India Trading Company have here?” Groves asked.

“They wouldn’t,” James said.

“You think it’s stolen?”

The lieutenants exchanged a glance. Could they have stumbled into a settlement belonging to thieves or pirates?

“What should we do, sir?” Gillette asked.

“Nothing tonight,” James replied. He rubbed his eyes. He felt sick and he just wanted to sleep, and there really was nothing to be done about their situation except for a dedicated effort to make the best of it. “Just be sure the watchmen keep alert.”

Night was falling, and the activity outside slowly quieted as the men found their places for the night. Gillette went out to join the first watch, and Groves lay down, propping his ankle up on a folded blanket.

James lay back on his own bed and once again the effort aggravated the pain in his side, but he felt better once he was lying down. He was glad for the quiet and the dark room. The day had not contained any points which could be considered highlights of his career. Completely the opposite, in fact. As much as he felt responsible for the ambush, he knew nobody would blame him for it, though he dreaded sharing the news that a ship had been lost under his command. Even an old ship like the Reverie that should never have been sailing in the first place. He could only hope that their stay in the deserted village would remain uneventful, and that they could soon be on their way home.

Chapter Text

The next morning dawned warm and sunny. James woke up to rays of sunlight spreading across his face, finding their way into the hut through the cracks in the roof above his bed. The hut was empty. He slowly sat up, and was glad when his head remained clear. He felt better, despite the pain in his side and the general soreness and lingering exhaustion.

The door of the hut opened and Lieutenant Groves came in with some food and more water. He set the rations on the table and glanced over to where James still sat on the cot. “You look like hell,” Groves said.

James glanced down at himself, at the dried blood on his shirt surrounding the torn fabric. It wasn’t an encouraging sight, and he doubted his face looked much better. “Where’s my coat?” he asked, hoping he could hide the worst of the bloodstains.

Groves retrieved the coat from the cot across the room, and James stood up to put it on. The coat made him feel more like himself, the man who would take charge and lead the others to victory, or, at the very least, not to their deaths. He sat down at the little table to have some water and breakfast, and Groves joined him.

“I don’t think Talbot slept last night,” the lieutenant reported, “but he managed to keep everyone alive, for now. I assigned a few of the marines to assist with the wounded so the doctor and his mates can get some rest.”

James just nodded and waited for the lieutenant to continue.

“Gillette took a few of the men down to the beach to look around. So far the island seems friendly enough. There’s plenty of water in the spring, and fruit trees not far from here. We could reasonably stay here for quite some time, if we have to.”

“God, I hope not,” James said. “This morning we will determine our precise location and the nearest port that may be able to help us. And these huts have clearly been used recently. It’s likely the rightful inhabitants will return before long, and I suppose there’s a chance they’ll be friendly.”

“We are about due for some good luck,” Groves said.

Gillette returned through the hut’s makeshift door. He paused in the doorway and spoke briefly to a small group of men outside, then stepped into the hut and looked at Groves for a moment, then met the Commodore’s eyes. Something wasn’t right.

“We spotted a ship, sir,” Gillette said, getting right to the point.

“Colors?” James asked, automatically, though he could tell from the lieutenant’s face that the ship was unidentified at best and hostile at worst.

“None,” Gillette replied. “None that we could make out. Except…” He hesitated.

“Except?” Groves prompted.

“Black sails.”

There was only one ship that matched that description. It was the Black Pearl, the ship widely known to be captained by none other than the pirate Jack Sparrow who had once humiliated the Commodore and all his men. Not only was the man a pirate, wanted by the law, he was insufferable and unpredictable. James thought of the rum and stolen silver in the hut. All signs pointed to the possibility that the crew of the Reverie had taken refuge in a settlement belonging to Sparrow and his crew.

“Show me,” he said, and followed the lieutenant back down the path to the beach.

He recognized the distant ship as soon as he saw it. It was, in fact, Jack Sparrow’s ship, the Black Pearl. He pulled out his spyglass and studied the ship, searching it for any sign that it was simply a lookalike, but every detail simply confirmed the ship’s identity. It was a pirate ship, and it was drawing nearer, headed directly towards the shore of the small island where the Commodore stood with his lieutenant, mere yards from where his entire crew rested, shipless and all but defenseless. 

The situation suddenly seemed much less hopeful than it had minutes earlier. 

“Sir?” Gillette asked. “What should we do?” 

“What can we do?” James replied, lowering the spyglass. He had once showed Sparrow mercy, and hoped he wouldn’t soon regret it.

James and Gillette waited on the beach for the pirate ship to arrive. The Black Pearl was soon anchored not far off shore, and her crew made their way towards the beach in longboats. Jack stood at the head of one, his back facing the island, making large, nonsensical gestures to the two crewmen burdened with the task of rowing. James went to the water’s edge. The longboat reached the beach and stopped with a lurch, knocking Jack off balance. He fought valiantly to regain his footing, but ultimately toppled backwards and landed unceremoniously in the sand. Jack lay dazed for a moment as if confused as to why his feet were above him. He was apparently still oblivious to the fact that he wasn’t alone on the beach.

James took advantage of the opportunity to have the element of surprise on his side. “Mister Sparrow,” he said, using his best tone of command.

There was a muffled exclamation of, “Bugger!” and Jack scrambled to his feet, spraying sand in every direction, and spun around until his eyes locked on the Commodore’s face. He stared for a moment, frozen in genuine shock. Then he blinked, and forced a grin. “Norrington, mate, why didn’t you say you were dropping by for a visit?”

“My apologies,” James said, ironically. “Is this a bad time?”

“No no no, not at all, of course,” Jack said, stepping cautiously forward. “Just would’ve liked a bit of time to prepare for your arrival, is all. Wouldn’t want to earn a reputation as an ungracious host.” He tilted his head slightly and saw Gillette standing a few paces behind the Commodore. “I see you’ve brought your most charming lieutenant with you.”

“There’s even more of us up at the village,” Gillette taunted.

Jack’s expression changed to one of mild panic. “The village?” he said, forcing out the strained words. He looked from Gillette to James, sneaking small glances towards the footpath in between. Then he shifted his demeanor. “All right,” he demanded, “how did you find it? I’ve hidden that little place for years, and I’ll have you know it wasn’t easy.” Jack turned away, clearly distraught. “No one knows of this place,” he said. “No one! Not a soul! Well, no one with a soul, but surely—“

Jack stopped suddenly, as he faced the horizon. He paused, scanning slowly, and then turned back around with a pleased smirk in his eyes. “Commodore,” he said, deliberately. “I don’t see your ship.”

“No?” James said, keeping his voice even and detached.

“You haven’t got a ship, have you?”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“Commodore Norrington hasn’t got a ship!” Jack shouted to his crew. “What do you think of that?” He paused a moment to enjoy the laughter of his crew, then turned back to James, a wide, insufferable grin spreading across his face. “You’ve got to be the worst Commodore I’ve ever heard of.”

James had no response. That taunt was likely a long time coming, and he could do nothing but wait with exaggerated patience for the pirates’ snickers to subside.

“I would appreciate it if you and your crew would refrain from entering the village until I’ve had a chance to explain the situation to my men,” James said.

“And ruin the surprise?”

“I think you know as well as I do how my men would react to such a surprise."

“Ah,” Jack said, thinking it through. “Yes. I suppose so.”

“I don’t suppose you know of any other settlement or civilization nearby, on this island?”

“Nope,” Jack replied, a little too quickly. “Nothing for miles. That’s why I chose this little haven for my campground, as it were.”

James sighed, taking a moment to stare out at the empty horizon. If Sparrow had chosen this place for his crew, it was unlikely that a friendly ship would pass by to offer assistance to the stranded sailors.

“You look bloody awful, mate,” Jack said, frowning at the Commodore. “What happened to you?”

James glared at Jack. “Pirates,” he said, before turning back towards the footpath to join Gillette.

They went first to the officers’ hut, where Groves still sat outside. He took the news of the pirates’ arrival as well as could be expected, then helped Gillette gather the men.

He stepped outside the hut and found his whole crew, minus those too injured to stand, gathered, ready and waiting to hear something hopeful from their leader. James regretted that he had nothing good to offer. He paused for a moment, looking through the faces watching him. Then he explained as plainly and briefly as he could how the Black Pearl had arrived, complete with her pirate captain and his pirate crew, and that they would, for the time being, be forced to coexist peacefully with the pirate crew.

There were whispers and frowns and confused glances from the men, but none of them lashed out. They were understandably apprehensive at the unwelcome news, but all seemed to offer the Commodore their reluctant trust. He was grateful for their confidence, knowing he had spent his career earning it.

“Thank you for your constant perseverance,” the Commodore concluded. “If anyone has further questions he may seek me out privately, later.” He dismissed the men, then disappeared into the hut, where he wouldn’t have to hear worried whispers or see the glances and stares they were surely sending towards the beach.

James went to one of the cots and the two lieutenants entered the hut to see him wincing and holding his side as he carefully sat down.

“I think that went well,” Groves ventured.

James shot him a look.

“Under the circumstances,” Gillette amended.

“They think I’ve gone mad.”

“Of course they don’t—“

“Well, what else should they think?” James all but shouted.

The lieutenants stood quietly through a long uncomfortable pause, wishing they could say something that might put the Commodore at ease, but also knowing that right now he preferred the silence.

The silence ended abruptly when Jack Sparrow burst through the hut’s entrance, holding a bottle of rum in each hand, and strutting as if he owned the place. Which, in a convoluted way, he did. “Commodore Norrington,” the pirate declared. “I thought I might find you here.”

James frowned at him. “I told you to wait.”

“Yes, and accustomed as you are to giving orders and having them subsequently obeyed, I can see why you might feel entitled to some amount of righteous indignation seeing as I have chosen to disregard the aforementioned request,” Jack said. “However, I think you’ll find your authority here remarkably limited.”

“Remember, Mr. Sparrow, the safety of your crew depends on your cooperation with mine.”

“And that’ll be Captain Sparrow to you, mate, seeing as I’ve got a ship and you haven’t,” Jack replied.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Groves said.

Jack tossed the lieutenants a grin. “Immeasurably.” He dropped dramatically into one of the wooden chairs, planted his feet on top of the table, and took a drink of rum. “I’d offer to share,” he said, facing Groves and Gillette, “but we pirates are a stingy lot when it comes to our plunder.”

“We don’t want your rum,” Gillette said, with as much venom as he could pack into the statement.

“Good. You’re not getting any.”

James pushed himself to his feet and moved towards the door. “Sparrow, walk with me.”

“Say please.”

James turned and faced the pirate with a look so cold and deadly it could have stopped the rising sun in its tracks.

Jack hopped to his feet. “Yep, I’ll just walk with you, then.” He deposited the bottles into the hands of the lieutenants and scurried after the Commodore.

Outside the hut a subtle tension hung in the air. The pirates had started to arrive in the village, carrying their crates and barrels and chests up from the beach. They exchanged glances of distaste and unease with the men from the Reverie. James paused outside the hut and watched the activity for a moment. He was already beginning to have doubts about his crew’s ability to abide peacefully with the pirates, despite his specific instructions and their best intentions.

“Mr. Sparrow,” James began, “if this is going to work—“

“Jack Sparrow!” a female voice shouted. A woman was storming up the path from the beach, and though her face was mostly hidden under the brim of a large hat, it was clear that she was not happy. “Are you daft?”

Jack flinched when the woman spoke. The woman stood toe to toe with the pirate, staring him down even though she was smaller than he was.

“Commodore, I don’t believe you’ve met Anamaria,” Jack said, taking a step away from the woman and trying to deflect her attention away from himself. “One of my finest men. Or, women, as it were. And may I present to you, Anamaria, our most unexpected guest, the—“

“I know who he is,” she Anamaria said, shooting a glare in the Commodore’s direction. “And you’re both daft if you think we’re all just going to be one big, happy family.”

“I assure you, Miss, I hardly find this an ideal arrangement,” James said.

“You certainly know how to woo a woman, Commodore.” She threw Jack one last glance with her fierce brown eyes, then turned and stomped away.

Jack made a face at the woman’s back. “Charming, isn’t she?”

“She’s right,” James said. He didn’t look at Jack as he spoke, choosing instead to watch the pirates work. A round, bald one and a skinny one struggled to carry a large crate between them, bickering as they made their way up the path. “We can’t stay here together.”

“And why not?”

“Because that is stolen property,” James said, raising his voice and directing Jack’s attention to troublesome crate.

Jack laughed nervously, throwing the crate a sideways glance. “Is not,” he said. He made a face at the two pirates and gestured at them with his head, trying and failing to relay an apparently nonsensical message while he continued stammering a weak protest to the Commodore’s accusation. “That’s merely a few trinkets I happened to find nearby a—“

“Enough,” James said. “It makes no difference here.”

“I suppose not,” Jack agreed. “Seeing as you’ve got no ship, eh?”

James glared at the pirate for a moment, then took a few deliberate paces away from the huts, down the narrow path just past the edge of the clearing so the trees nearly hid him from either the village or the beach. Jack shouted a few random instructions to his crew, then followed the Commodore in his usual manner of conspicuous nonchalance. “I infer there is something you’d like to discuss with me,” Jack said, once they were far enough from the clearing that they wouldn’t be overheard.

“I intend to find someone who can offer assistance to my crew,” James said. “It would be in your best interests, Mr. Sparrow, to divulge any information you have about this island and any nearby settlements.”

“I told you before, there are none,” Jack replied. He spread his arms and turned so that he gestured to the whole island. “It’s just us here, mate. No settlements whatsoever. I’m afraid you’re stuck with us.”

“I know you’re lying,” James said. “And I don’t care. The fact is, I need a ship. And if you are unable or unwilling to tell me where I might find one, that leaves only your ship at my disposal.”

“Right,” Jack said with a chuckle. “Good one.” He turned back towards the clearing. “Seems I can be of no service to you, so I won’t take up any more of your—“

James grabbed the pirate’s arm, stopping him. “If you think I’m joking, you’re in for an unpleasant surprise.”

Jack squrimed out of the Commodore’s grasp and turned to meet his gaze. The pirate’s face took on a grave expression when he found no humor in James’ eyes. “You think I haven’t seen the condition of your crew?” Jack said. “If you’re thinking the thing I think you’re thinking, I think it might be best to rethink your, ah, thinking, as it were.”

James hesitated. He knew his men would be more than willing to fight for the ship, as it was their only way home, and more than willing to take down the pirate crew, who represented a threat to everything they were dedicated to preserve. But they were weary, unprepared, and many of them were injured. Even those with minor injures who could still handle their weapons would hardly be at their best in the event of a skirmish. James thought of the pain in his own side and knew that even he wouldn’t be able to hold out long against an able-bodied opponent. The pirates would likely prove a fearsome adversary as they defended their ship.

“You’ve been bested by the navy before, Sparrow,” James finally said.

“Have I? Seems to me our last encounter ended in a stalemate, of sorts.”

“I would have had you if the hurricane hadn’t forced us to turn back.”

“Sorry about your luck, mate,” Jack said. “But I don’t see how any of this is my problem.” He spread his arms as if to demonstrate that they were, in fact, empty of any responsibility, then he turned and started back up the path towards the village.

James stared after the pirate, frustrated. He hadn’t really expected the conversation to go any other way, though he had hoped the threat of having the ship taken by force might have given Jack more pause. But Jack was right. With his crew in such rough shape, James had no leverage. And without leverage, there was no reason why Jack should help him.

And then, out of the blue, James remembered the voice of Will Turner, of all people, in his head, saying, Make a deal with him. And as much as James tried to ignore the annoying blacksmith’s words, and as much as he hated that they were even there to begin with, he found himself calling out, “Sparrow, wait.”

Jack paused, digging his heels into the sand to make a show of stopping, and slowly turned back.

“Ask me for something in return.”

Jack watched the Commodore’s face cautiously, searching for any sign of deception, and slowly made his way back down the path. “I’m listening.”

“All we ask is safe passage to the nearest English port. Agree to assist us, and I will grant you one favor in return.”

“A favor, eh?” the pirate said. “A little quid pro quo? As it were.”

“I suppose.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed as he thoughtfully considered the Commodore’s proposal. He paced away, then back, and then in a circle around James, all while gesturing and muttering to himself, as if having an imaginary conversation with someone only he could see. James stood still, but watched the pirate from the corner of his eye.

“All right, then,” Jack said, stopping abruptly at the Commodore’s back, forcing James to turn around to face him. “I accept. One little trip. And don’t think I won’t collect on the debt you now owe me.”

“One favor,” James said.

“Clemency?”

James just frowned.

Jack grinned. “Worth a shot.”

“You have until sundown to make a request,” James said, turning to go back up the path towards the village. “Make it a good one.”

Chapter Text

James returned to the hut where Groves and Gillette were still waiting for him, sitting on either side of the wooden table. They both faced the door in unison when James entered.

“What was that about?” Groves asked.

James deliberately closed the crooked door, then crossed the room to join the lieutenants at the table. They both watched him expectantly as he sat down. James paused for a moment before he said anything. He knew the lieutenants trusted him and he knew they would follow his lead, but he wasn’t sure how they would react when he told them about his arrangement with the pirate captain.

“I made a deal with Sparrow,” James finally said. “We have a ship.”

The two lieutenants exchanged a glance. James tried to read their faces, searching to see if they doubted him or disagreed with his decision to involve Sparrow in the navy’s business, but he found none. Both Gillette and Groves managed to keep their expressions even. More than anything they seemed surprised, as if they were looking to each other to decide how to proceed with the conversation.

Groves finally looked back to James. “Sparrow gave you his ship?”

“He agreed carry us to the nearest English port in exchange for a favor,” James said.

Gillette frowned. “Since when does the King’s Navy give favors to pirates?”

“The King’s Navy has no part in it,” James said. “This arrangement is strictly between Sparrow and myself.”

The lieutenants looked at each other for another long moment. “Well,” Groves finally said, speaking for both himself and Gillette, “I hate to say it, but Sparrow really is our best chance.”

James nodded his thanks. He didn’t need his lieutenants’ approval, of course, but he was glad to have it anyway. He sent Gillette for a map, and then the three officers spent the next few hours determining their approximate location and identifying the nearest English ports. Their little island wasn’t on the map, but the surrounding waters and settlements were mostly friendly. Their best option was the port of St. Matthew, which they could reach within a day sailing from their current location.

The Black Pearl was known for her speed, which was ideal for making the journey from the little uncharted island as quick as possible, but James was a bit concerned about sailing through English waters on a ship so easily identifiable as a pirate vessel. Even if they flew English colors, the ship’s black sails would be alarming to any reputable sailor or port they encountered. He hoped the port’s defenses would honor a flag of truce, rather than simply sinking the ship on sight, and give him a chance to show himself and explain the dire situation.

Their current location was uncharted, but they identified St. Matthew as the nearest friendly port. “That’s all for now,” James said, when both the island and the port were marked on the map. “I expect to hear from Sparrow before sundown regarding the terms of our agreement, so until then let’s just keep all of this between us.”

The lieutenants agreed, and Gillette began folding the map up to put it away.

James sat back in his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The afternoon was only half over, but already the day felt long. He felt tired, both mentally and physically, and as much as he tried to ignore it, the wound on his side was painful. There were a thousand things he could be doing, but right now his injured body just wanted to rest.

"I hope I won't be conspicuously absent if I close my eyes for a while," he said.

"Of course not," Gillette replied.

"Don't let me sleep more than an hour."

The lieutenants exchanged a glance and hesitated before agreeing. They both remembered the sight of fresh blood on the Commodore's white uniform shirt as he collapsed on the path outside the hut, and they remembered the almost euphoric relief of hearing Doctor Talbot assure them the wound was only superficial. Under any other circumstances an injured man would have spent the entire day in bed under the doctor's care, and they both knew the Commodore had a tendency to disregard his own well-being in favor of the men under his command.

"Sir, it may not be my place…" Groves began.

"It rarely is," James said. "And that rarely stops you."

"Well, there's no reason to be hard on yourself," Groves said. "You're injured. You wouldn't expect much of either of us if we had a wound like that."

James sighed and glanced at Groves for a moment. He appreciated the lieutenant's concern, and he knew it was more than justified, but his pride had nothing to do with it. "Trust me, I have no intention of repeating what happened yesterday," he said. "I don't know who saw me speaking with Sparrow earlier. If I disappear all afternoon, someone might think I have something to hide."

Groves lowered his eyes and nodded. He understood.

“We’ll leave you alone,” Gillette said, standing. “I’d like to speak to the cook anyway. I instructed him to take inventory of our rations and prepare a plan for this evening’s supper. We’ll be much better prepared to coexist here peacefully if we can count on a meal every now and then.”

James nodded. "Anything to keep spirits up."

Groves stood with Gillette’s help, and the two lieutenants left the hut. James rubbed his eyes and took a drink of water from the canteen on the table. At least the island had plenty of fresh water available. He was thankful that was one thing they wouldn't have to worry about. He was also thankful for the quiet of the empty hut, but before he could get up from the table to lie down on his cot, the door opened again.

Gillette stepped back in and met James' eyes with a pained expression. "I'm sorry, sir, but—"

Jack Sparrow pushed his way past the lieutenant into the hut. “Afternoon, Commodore!” he said. He sat down across from James, reclining in the wooden chair with his feet tossed unceremoniously on top of the table.

Gillette still stood in the doorway. “He insisted, sir. Should I—”

“Just leave us,” James said. “This won’t take long," he added, throwing a glance at Jack.

Gillette quickly disappeared, letting the door fall shut behind him. James looked across the table at Jack, who was making a show of examining his own dirty fingernails as if they were anything worth looking at. He deliberately avoided the Commodore's eyes, forcing James to start the conversation.

"Are you here to finish our bargain?" James asked.

"Indeed I am," Jack declared. He swung his feet enthusiastically to the floor. "As it turns out, I am, in fact, in need of a favor from a man such as yourself. Mr. Gibbs, my first mate, has recently been wrongfully incarcerated by a man not unlike yourself, and negotiating his release has proved to be a tad more challenging than I had anticipated, which is due mostly to a bit of a complicated relationship between myself and this unscrupulous captor. So that's where you come in."

James frowned. He had a guess where the pirate's convoluted story was leading, and he already had a good number of questions he wasn't sure he wanted the answer to.

“A Commodore, a fine, upstanding gentleman of the Navy belonging to ol’ King Whats-his-face ought to be taken at his word, should he not?” Jack continued. “You come with me, spend barely a minute informing my unfortunate acquaintance of his mistake, and then just like that you and your crew will be on your way home. What say you to that?”

“You want me to command the release of a convicted pirate in exchange for your word you’ll grant us passage to the nearest port?”

"Precisely," Jack replied, apparently pleased that they understood each other so well. "Do we have a deal?"

"My crew goes home first," James said. "Then I will return with you to free your first mate."

Jack shook his head. "That's not the deal. You deliver on your promise, and then, and only then, you have my word I'll hold up my end."

"I cannot risk my reputation and the lives of my crew on the word of a pirate."

"Well, then," Jack said, standing. "I'm afraid there's no deal to be made here." He started towards the door.

"I gave you a day before I pursued you," James said. "What makes you think I wouldn't be so reasonable again?"

Jack turned back around as if he had never really intended to exit in the first place. "You're missing the point." He stepped deliberately back towards the table, holding up the index finger on each hand as if giving a very important lecture. "It's not about whether or not I trust you to hold up your end of the deal. In fact, I have every confidence that you have every intention of doing just as you say. The point, my friend—"

"We're not friends."

"Reluctant acquaintance, then," Jack amended. "The point is that you need this deal far more than I do. And that, Commodore, is why having the proper leverage is such a beautiful thing." Jack lowered his arms and grinned. "I suppose I can extend you the same courtesy you gave me and allow you until this evening's sundown to give me your final answer. But I think you and I both already know what that will be."

Jack turned towards the door again and this time he left without pause or interruption.

James watched Jack go and begrudgingly knew he was right. His only option, besides doing nothing, was to agree to the pirate's terms. Every instinct he had warned him against using his authority as an officer to demand the release of a man convicted of piracy. But through the cracks in the shoddy hut wall, he could hear the voices and movements of his men. These men trusted him to lead them home.

The rest of the day was quiet and uneventful, despite the tension between the two crews. James managed to sleep, even after his conversation with Sparrow, and he did feel better when Groves woke him almost two hours later, claiming to have lost track of time.

The village was divided in half, keeping the men of the Reverie separated from the pirates. Several huts were designated for the most seriously injured men, so Doctor Talbot could look after them all at once. Most would recover, Talbot reported, but there were a few whose wounds were severe and likely fatal. Gillette made good on his promise to ensure an evening meal was served from the available rations. The crew of the Reverie took their supper quietly on their end of the village while the pirates found their own food on the other side of the path.

James kept an eye out for Jack, so they could find a moment to speak privately about the terms of their arrangement, but as the sun dipped below the horizon, Jack was still nowhere to be found. James didn't waste his energy searching for the pirate. Sparrow would make himself known on his own time, whatever that was.

As the men settled in for the night, James walked away from the village and down towards the shore. The night air was brisk and refreshing. A waxing crescent moon hung low in the sky, offering enough light to illuminate the curves of the sand and waves on the beach, but not enough to drown out the numerous stars. Most nights, James would have enjoyed walking outdoors, looking at the sky and hearing the constant rushing of the waves against the shore, but tonight his mind was elsewhere.

He had made his lieutenants aware of Sparrow’s terms, and despite his many unwavering reservations, he saw no option but to agree to the pirate’s deal. The freedom of one pirate in exchange for the lives of his crew was a small price to pay. Gillette had volunteered to come along on the voyage, and as much as James hated to involve the lieutenant in the questionable arrangement, he was glad to know that he wouldn’t be alone on the pirate vessel.

There was still the issue of trusting Sparrow to deliver on his promise. That, James decided, was something to worry about later.

He would have liked to walk in the fresh air to clear his head, but the pain from his wound increased with every step even on the short walk from the village to the beach, so he stopped on the shore near an overturned longboat and stared out to sea. In the moonlight, he could just barely make out the form of the Black Pearl on the horizon. The beach was littered with the longboats belonging to his crew and Sparrow’s.

“Commodore!”

James hadn’t heard the pirate approach, but he wasn’t surprised that Jack had found him here. He turned his head slightly to acknowledge Jack’s presence. He could hear the victorious grin in the pirate’s voice even though it was too dark to see his face.

Jack strolled down the beach, once again carrying a bottle of rum in each hand. “Thought I might find you here.”

James turned back to face the horizon again.

“I won’t take up much of your time,” Jack said, placing himself directly next to James. “However, I did think it appropriate that we spoke, seeing as it's time you came to a decision. So, Commodore, what say you?"

“I accept your terms on the condition that Lieutenant Gillette will accompany us,” James said, still refusing to meet the pirate’s eyes. “A small concession on your part,” he continued, cutting off Jack’s protest. "We'll be ready to leave at first light."

“All right, all right,” Jack said. “So it seems we have a deal, then?”

“We do.”

“Oh good!” Jack declared. “Shall we drink on it?”

James silenced him with a glance.

Jack shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said, and took a long drink from one of the bottles. He lowered it, then joined the Commodore in staring out over the moonlit waters. “You know,” he said, taking on a thoughtful tone, “we’re not so different, you and I.”

James sighed and stared back out over the ocean, sensing he was about to receive one of Sparrow’s monologues.

“Both men of the sea, we are,” Jack said. “Both captains, or, in your case, something roughly similar, as it were. Always looking to serve the best interests of them what looks to us for guidance. Both remarkably adept at negotiating a mutually beneficial arrangement, if I do say so myself. Quite a lot in common, don’t you think?”

James’ only response was frown. He glanced at the bottles in Jack's hands and wondered vaguely just how much rum Jack had already consumed.

“Well,” Jack continued, “we're very much alike except, of course, for the obvious fact that each of us can’t stand the likes of the other, what with you chasing me all over the ocean and me always eluding your capture despite your commendable efforts. But yet, here we are. Thrust together as if by fate. You, marooned here, with no one but little ol’ me for company, and nothing you can do about it. How’s that for irony?”

James only offered a sideways glance, still making a point to ignore Jack’s rambling.

Jack paused to take another sip of rum. “I suppose that’s what you get when you pit two fine men such as ourselves directly against each other,” Jack said. “Hate, fear, not to mention a bit of envy—“

“Sparrow,” James said, finally speaking out of pure exasperation. “What do you have that I could possibly be envious of?”

“A ship,” Jack taunted, a smug grin creeping across his face. “Can’t argue with that one, can you, Commodore?” The pirate accentuated his verbal jab with a physical one, driving his elbow into James' ribs.

James barely stifled a cry of pain and surprise as the pirate’s elbow made the raw wound erupt. He doubled over, clutching his side, and dropped to one knee in the sand as spots of light danced in front of his eyes. He reached out with his free hand and steadied himself on the underside of the nearby boat.

“I guess I don’t know my own strength,” Jack said, frowning at the Commodore in mild surprise. “What is the matter with you?”

James drew in a few deep breaths through clenched teeth and sat down in the sand. He pulled aside his coat so Jack could see the ripped shirt and bloodstains.

“Oh,” Jack said, seeing the evidence of the fresh wound. “Bugger. My mistake.”

James cursed under his breath and leaned back against the boat.

Jack sat down on the beach next to the Commodore. “You’re frightfully pale, mate,” Jack observed, handing over one bottle of rum. “Have some rum.”

James hesitated, then took a small drink, and then another.

“I thought you seemed a bit out of sorts today. I swear, I had no idea.”

James believed Jack but didn’t say so. He drank from the bottle again. The rum did help.

Jack drank from his own bottle. Then he looked out over the water, towards the shadow of the Black Pearl on the horizon. He was unusually quiet for a long moment, and was oddly serious when he spoke again. “Commodore, what did happen to your ship?”

James took another drink before answering. “We were ambushed,” he said. “A band of miscreants set fire to my ship. She now resides at the bottom of the ocean.”

“That’s no luck at all, mate,” Jack said, with a surprising amount of sincerity. He lifted his bottle of rum again and drank until it was empty, nearly toppling back against the boat as he tried to reach every last drop. Jack frowned at the empty bottle, discarded it on the beach, then glanced over at the bottle in the Commodore’s hand. “Are you going to be finishing that?”

James handed over the bottle.

“Thanks, mate.” Jack hopped up to his feet to go back up the beach to the village.

James started to push himself up as well, but found the painful gash at his side made the task more difficult than he had anticipated. He paused on one knee for a moment, holding onto the side of the boat for support, trying to find his footing without ripping open the fresh wound. Then he felt Sparrow’s steady hand under his arm, and though he hated it, he let the pirate help him to his feet.

“Don’t mention it,” Jack said, releasing his grip as soon as the Commodore was upright.

“I wouldn’t dare,” James replied.

Jack grinned. “Until morning, then.”

Chapter Text

The Black Pearl departed as planned just as the first pale, misty light of the morning began to wake the island and the sea. The pirate ship carried only her Captain, the Commodore, and Gillette. James had hesitated briefly when he learned there would be no one else aboard to assist with the duties of sailing, and expressed his doubts that the pirate ship could be effectively crewed by only three men.

“I’ve done it with two,” Jack countered, tossing a grin to Gillette. “Isn’t that right, Lieutenant?”

Gillette replied with a scowl, and Groves failed to entirely hide a chuckle as he remembered Gillette’s comically unsuccessful attempt at deterring Jack and that blacksmith from taking over the Dauntless as a means of commandeering the Interceptor.

Groves was left as the ranking officer among the stranded crew. The Commodore had given him simple but direct instructions to keep peace with the pirates and had told him in no uncertain terms that if an opportunity for rescue presented itself, he was to take it. Groves hated the thought of leaving the island without Norrington and Gillette, but he reluctantly gave the Commodore his word. This was one of those situations where it would have done no good to argue.

By mid-morning, Groves had done everything useful he could think to do. He spoke with Doctor Talbot to check in on the status of the injured. Nothing had changed much. They were in desperate need of a proper hospital. Talbot inquired about the lieutenant’s ankle, and Groves realized he wasn’t doing a very good job of disguising the pain it caused him. He did his best to dismiss the doctor’s concern, instructing him to focus his attention on those with serious wounds and promising that he would sit down and rest the sore ankle.

He spoke to the other officers, giving a vague, brief explanation for the Commodore’s absence and Jack Sparrow’s involvement in the situation. At the risk of making himself guilty of misleading the crew, Groves implied that Sparrow’s assistance had not been at all voluntary, and that the Commodore was essentially in command of the Black Pearl, and on a mission to find help. In the meantime, he instructed the men to rest, and to keep to themselves as much as possible to avoid even the appearance of instigating trouble with the pirates.

Finally, his ankle couldn’t take it anymore, and Groves returned to the bench outside the hut. He observed the activity of the two groups of men. There didn’t seem to be any trouble, but just to be safe, he thought maybe it was best if they formed a more official truce agreement. He called over Lieutenant Briggs and sent him to find out who was in charge of the pirate crew in the absence of Captain Sparrow.

Briggs returned with Anamaria. The pirate woman made no attempt at hiding her dislike for the officers. She stopped in front of Groves and crossed her arms, facing him with a hostile glare. “What?” she demanded.

“I just want to talk,” Groves said, trying to sound as nonthreatening as possible. “Thanks for coming over.”

“I didn’t have much choice,” she said, glaring at Briggs. “Would it really have been so much trouble to find me yourself?”

“I’ve got a sprained ankle,” Groves replied, “which makes walking a bit rough. I hope you’ll pardon me if I don’t stand.”

The pirate woman was unmoved. “You can balance on your head for all I care.”

Groves dismissed Briggs and offered Anamaria a seat on the other end of his bench, which she declined. Then he offered her a polite smile, which she ignored. She was being difficult on purpose, and he didn’t blame her, but he was determined to remain civil. “I just thought it might be a good idea for the two of us, as acting captains, to make a formal truce agreement.”

She stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. “I get it,” she said. “I don’t trust you either. Might as well lay some ground rules to make sure the men don’t kill each other.”

“I suppose that’s one way to look at it.”

“It’s simple enough. Stay on your side of camp and there shouldn’t be any trouble.”

“The same to you,” Groves replied. “Any of the weapons or supplies that came from the HMS Reverie are the property of the King’s Navy, and I expect them to be treated as such. And it should go without saying that the men have been through enough. They’re not looking for a fight, and I won’t appreciate any instigation of—“

“We were here first, Lieutenant,” Anamaria interrupted, raising her voice. “You try to tell me you think we’re planning to attack and rob you? That’s all you think of us?”

“You’re pirates,” Groves stammered. It was a stupid thing to say, but he couldn’t think of any other response. He hadn’t expected her to respond so defensively to what he thought were perfectly reasonable and justified terms of truce.

“Pirates doesn’t mean we’re barbarians, Lieutenant.” She cut off his attempt to placate her. ”Believe it or not, pirates follow orders too, same as you, and we’ve been told to act hospitably and peacefully, and like it or not, that’s what we’ll do.”

“Look, I just—“

“You think you’re better than us,” she said, disgust flashing across her dark eyes. “If you’d come down off your high-and-mighty Royal Navy throne and take a look, you might see that they’re good men.” She glared at him a moment longer, as if watching to see what he would do next. When Groves had no response, she just shook her head then spun around and walked angrily away. “And you can keep your truce!” she shouted, without looking back.

Groves sat back on the bench and stared after her, taken slightly aback at how poorly the conversation had gone. He cast a glance over at Briggs, who would have been out of earshot had the exchange taken place at a conversational volume, but had likely overheard everything. Groves hoped he hadn’t made the situation worse. He hoped he could trust the pirate woman to keep her word to follow her captain’s instructions and that she and the pirates would keep to themselves.

Jack took great satisfaction in proving that his ship could, in fact, be crewed by three men. He took even more satisfaction in handing out orders to the Commodore and the Lieutenant. Jack was really proving the Black Pearl could be sailed by two men, as he was hardly doing enough work to be considered contributing the efforts of a full man. He stood at the helm, making an exaggerated effort to concentrate on maintaining their heading, whatever that was.

As annoying as it was to take orders from Jack, James had to grudgingly admit that the pirate did know his way around a ship and the sea. He was also pleasantly surprised to find the pirate’s ship in a state of relative decency and cleanliness. He had prepared himself for the worst. Of course the Black Pearl was hardly up to his, and the Navy’s, rigorous standards, but it wasn’t the abyss of filth and disorder that he had expected of the pirate vessel. Jack often put on a show of making love to his ship, but James was beginning to suspect that Jack’s love for his ship was more than an act. The pirate seemed to show real respect for the ship.

James kept his eye on the horizon as they sailed, looking for any clue as to what their destination might be. He was mildly confused when the island remained just off their starboard side, even after an hour on the water.

“Sparrow,” he finally said, catching the pirate’s attention. “Where, exactly, are we going?”

“Going?” Sparrow repeated. “We’re nearly there.”

James frowned.

“Behold, our destination,” Jack declared. He stood at the ship’s rail and gestured grandly with both arms towards the island.

“That’s the same island,” Gillette said.

“Well done,” Jack replied. “Now be a dear and drop the anchor, would you?”

“What exactly is your plan?” Gillette demanded. “Lure us away from our crew, and then what? Take us off into the woods and shoot us?”

“Now how would I possibly benefit from doing such a thing?” Jack said. “Believe it or not, the both of you are more useful to me while you’re alive. For example, it would be much more difficult for a pair of dead men to, say, lower the anchor.” He frowned at Gillette, then glanced over at James. "Honestly, mate, where did you find him?"

James exchanged a glance with Gillette, but they obliged, anchoring the Black Pearl just off the shore of the island she’d just departed from. They took a longboat to shore, and Jack made a show of dragging it behind a large rock, to “deter any prying eyes,” the pirate said. The boat was hardly disguised, but that didn’t seem to affect Jack’s good spirits.

The beach looked very similar to the one they had just left behind. This shore was shorter and narrower, with no signs of an immediate settlement nearby to tame the plant growth. The trees at the edge of the beach seemed to be the brink of a deep jungle. Beyond the edge of the trees, the terrain seemed to slope upwards, but James couldn’t make out anything beyond the beach. The trees were dense, and the breeze off the water shuffled their large fronds around, making it difficult to distinguish between the island’s features.

“Come on, then,” Jack declared. He boldly led the way up the beach towards the forest.

James hesitated. He studied the first line of trees for a moment, then glanced over at Gillette. “One moment, Mr. Sparrow,” he called. “We’ve come far enough now. It’s only fair you tell us who we’re dealing with.”

Jack paused. “Ah,” he said, and slowly turned back to return to where the two officers stood. “Yes. I suppose you’re bound to find out sooner or later. As I mentioned before, the two-faced cad who has wrongfully and deceitfully kept my first mate as his unlawful prisoner is actually a bit like yourself, Commodore. Just not so jovial when it comes to his dealings with the likes of me.”

Jack forced a grin and looked from James to Gillette. When his attempt to lighten the mood was met with a pair of stony stares, he gave up and just went on with his explanation. “Right, then. Have either of you heard of a little thing called the East India Trading Company?”

James frowned.

“Of course we’ve heard of them,” Gillette said. “Who do you think we are?”

“I don’t know. Who do you think you are?”

“What is the East India Trading Company doing here?” James asked, still frowning. The Company was a powerful agency on the waters. It seemed out of character that they would have any sort of settlement on a tiny uncharted island, especially with so many large cities and ports nearby.

“Business,” Jack replied. “That, and kidnapping honest pirates.”

“Your first mate is in the custody of the Company?”

“Aye. But not for long.” Jack turned back towards the jungle. “Come on, then. It’s not far. Just far enough!”

“I want Lieutenant Gillette to remain here,” James said. “He’ll keep an eye on the ship and have the boat ready for us when we return.”

Gillette immediately protested, but James cut him off.

“That’s an order, Lieutenant,” he said, meeting Gillette’s eyes. The deal with Sparrow was a risky one, and it had been even before he knew the East India Trading Company was involved. James had made his own decision to take that risk, but he had no desire to complicate matters further by allowing Gillette to get involved as well.

Gillette was clearly not convinced, but he wasn’t one to argue with a direct order. He reluctantly agreed, and watched from the beach as Jack led the Commodore through the first line of trees, grandly brushing leaves and palms aside with both his arms.

James followed the pirate into the jungle. Jack pressed on, shoving his way between trees, bushes, ferns, and the like, pausing occasionally to put his ear to a tree trunk or stick his little finger into the bell of a tropical flower. He seemed to know exactly where he was going. He led confidently, as if he had been this way many times before. James kept one eye on the unfamiliar terrain ahead, one eye on the shadows shifting between the trees, and one hand on his pistol.

Jack led him deep into the jungle, up a moderate slope towards the center of the island. Just when James was beginning to lose track of the sound of the ocean, the trees around them suddenly disappeared. A stone fortress appeared almost out of nowhere. The structure looked out of place surrounded by the untamed jungle. It wasn’t particularly large or imposing, and wasn’t even as tall as the tops of the nearby trees, but its sturdy outer wall seemed impenetrable.

It was clear that whoever occupied the fortress had no desire to be found, or visited, but Jack seemed to have no reservations whatsoever about marching right up to the fort wall, to a small opening guarded by two uniformed men.

“Go on then. In you go,” Jack said. “Convince Cutler Beckett to release Mr. Gibbs, and I swear I will lend you my ship as a token of my eternal gratitude.”

James looked towards the fort entrance. He recognized the name Cutler Beckett. The man was an unyielding force of efficiency within the Company, having already earned himself, if James remembered correctly, the title of Lord Beckett. Lord Beckett didn’t have the reputation of being a particularly generous or merciful man.

“Come now, Commodore,” Jack said, sensing the hesitation. “Do you trust me?”

“About as far as I could throw you,” James replied, glaring at the pirate.

“Which is how far, exactly?”

“In prison, Mr. Sparrow,” James said, making the pirate flinch. “You do realize that to honor our agreement would require an abuse of my power which may jeapordize my career.”

“And what a shame that would be for me,” Jack replied. “Now shoo.”

The Commodore was detained only momentarily by the fort guards. James offered an authoritative, “I require an audience with Lord Beckett,” as explanation for his presence, and he was granted entrance. Another set of guards met him on the other side of the wall and escorted him through a set of narrow corridors, past the curious glances of uniformed, armed men, to a set of wooden double doors also guarded by Company agents.

The guards made a show of grandly opening the wooden doors, and James was ushered into an office of modest size. The oversized windows along the back wall let in enough sunlight to make the room seem bigger than it really was. A man sat behind a large wooden desk at the far corner of the room.

James approached the desk, and his escorts retreated, closing the heavy wooden doors firmly with a thud that echoed against the walls of stone.

The man behind the desk was stone, too. He remained seated as James approached, and his face offered neither greeting nor hostility. He simply sat, and waited.

James studied the pale man’s rigid features for a moment. The eyes were cold and unfeeling, but the neutral curve of the man’s lips suggested he might be reasonable. The East India Trading Company was powerful and well-equipped, and if this fortress was here and staffed with Company agents, it was likely they had a ship nearby as well. James didn’t hesitate before deciding to ignore his bargain with Jack Sparrow and appeal instead to Lord Beckett for the aid he needed.

“Lord Cutler Beckett, I presume,” James said.

“And you are…?”

“Commodore James Norrington.” James didn’t hesitate, though he hated to identify himself. “His Majesty’s Navy.”

Lord Beckett’s eyes reacted slightly when James introduced himself, as if the name and rank were familiar. Beckett stood and meticulously made his way around the desk. “I was unaware the Navy had business here.”

“We don’t,” James said. “My crew and I are stranded and in need of any assistance you can give us. I’m here to request passage to the port of St. Matthew. Some of the men are injured and need immediate medical attention.”

Beckett responded with a slight raise of his eyebrows. “I’m very sorry to hear that,” he said. He didn’t sound sorry at all. He barely even sounded interested.

“Sir, if there is anything you can do to help us, I and the Governor of Port Royal will be in your debt.”

“Port Royal, you say.” Beckett studied the Commodore for a moment and his stony demeanor gave nothing away. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard of a man called Jack Sparrow?” Beckett finally said. He phrased the question as if it were a legitimate inquiry, but his tone and the look in his eyes suggested he already knew the answer, and that the question was posed simply to make a point.

James knew the question was a trap, but he answered anyway. “I’ve heard of him,” he said.

“You’ve done more than that, if memory serves,” Beckett replied. He walked to the window that faced out towards the water, positioning himself so that his back was to James. He kept talking anyway. “Jack Sparrow and his crew just so happen to have a little campsite right here on this very island. I’m sure you’re familiar with his ship, the Black Pearl. If you’d care to take a look out this window, you can see her sails. They’re black, you know.”

James frowned. He hadn’t anticipated that Lord Beckett would be aware of the pirates’ presence on the island. He had naturally assumed that if the pirates had been able to set up camp on the island, it must have been without the knowledge of any law-enforcing agency. “I’m not entirely sure what your point is,” James said.

“My point, Commodore,” Beckett said, rotating to face James once more, “is that you’re not telling me the whole story. Are you, or are you not, acquainted with a man by the name of Jack Sparrow?”

“It seems you have already surmised your answer.”

A humorless smile played at the corner of Lord Beckett’s mouth. “It does seem that way, doesn’t it?” he said. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what a dangerous thing that is, for a man who wears the King’s uniform, to be a known associate of such a vile thing as a pirate. But don’t worry. It’ll be our little secret. I may even be persuaded to lend you a ship, Commodore, if you’re willing to give me something in exchange.”

“I’m sure the Governor—“

“I’m not interested in the Governor’s favors,” Beckett said. He glanced at James for a moment, then looked past him to the heavy wooden doors.

As if on cue, the doors swung open, and two uniformed men half-escorted, half-dragged Jack Sparrow into the room.

“Ah, Captain Sparrow,” Lord Beckett said, with a cold smile. “It’s been a while. I’ve been expecting you.”

James stared at Beckett for a moment, then over at Jack, trying to understand what he was seeing and hearing. Lord Beckett was clearly aware of the pirate crew’s presence on the island, and he had apparently been in contact with Sparrow. It wasn’t much of a stretch to assume that Beckett had also allowed the pirates to continue their operations, right under the Company’s nose.

“Have you brought the map?” Beckett asked. Again, it was clear he knew the answer before it was given.

“What map?” Jack said, doing a poor job of feigning ignorance.

“I told you not to return here without it.” The annoyance in Lord Beckett’s voice was somehow sinister. “And yet, here you are.”

“There’s been a bit of a problem. You see, through an unforeseeable set of circumstances which are in no way whatsoever to be misconstrued as my fault, I no longer have the map in question. And it’s proving remarkably difficult to retrieve it without the assistance of my loyal first mate,” Jack said. “However, if you’ll simply return the man in question, I’ll have your map back in no time.”

“It seems to me you’ve already found yourself a replacement.” Beckett glanced over at James. “Mr. Gibbs will stay here until I get my map. That was the deal.”

The meeting was not going as planned, and James wanted to get out of Beckett’s office as soon as possible, before Jack said or did something that made the situation worse. “Lord Beckett,” James said, “under the authority of the King’s Navy, you are ordered to release this man into my custody, along with any other members of his crew who may be in your possession.”

Beckett’s only response was a glance in the Commodore’s direction. The order seemed to amuse him. He studied the Commodore’s face and uniform for a moment, then looked back at Jack.

“You have three days to return my map before your first mate hangs,” Beckett said, with a finality that silenced even Jack. He turned and looked at James again. “And as for you, I may be persuaded to overlook your association with this man if your presence on his ship ensures the return of my property.”

“I want nothing to do with this man,” James said. “All I want is safe passage for myself and my crew.”

“And I'll see that you have it,” Beckett replied. “As soon as I have my map.”

Chapter Text

James sat at the stern of the longboat, staring past Gillette to where Jack sat. The pirate’s demeanor was infuriatingly casual, as if he were simply unconcerned with the threats made against himself and his first mate. Lord Beckett was clearly not to be trusted. James didn’t trust Sparrow, either, but it seemed as though they were going to be working together a while longer, all due to the conflict over Lord Beckett’s map. It would be easy enough to just shoot Sparrow right between his eyes and take over the ship for himself, James thought, but he knew that would do no good. Besides the moral and ethical dilemma of shooting a man, even a pirate like Jack, the pirates would likely riot if the Black Pearl returned to camp without her captain.

The longboat reached the Black Pearl and Jack went enthusiastically to the ship’s helm. “All right, then, we’ll make this quick,” he said. “We’ll have this little misunderstanding cleared up in no time. If you’ll be so kind as to raise the anchor, we’ll be on our way before you can say Lord Cutler Stinking Beckett.”

“Before we agree to follow you any further on this insane mission, I believe we deserve an explanation,” James said, standing resolutely where he was.

Jack hesitated. “What’s there to explain?”

“You traded your first mate for a map.”

“Did not.”

“That’s certainly what it sounds like to me,” Gillette said.

“Nobody asked you,” Jack retorted. “And you weren’t even there, so I declare hearsay.”

“The truth, Sparrow,” James ordered. “Or this is as far as we go. This was not part of our deal.”

“All right, all right!” Jack spread his arms in a gesture of surrender. “First of all, let me make one thing very clear.” He held up both index fingers to illustrate his point. “Gibbs was not payment. More like collateral, if you will.”

“That’s barbaric,” Gillette said, glaring at Jack with a look of mingled disgust and incredulity. “What sort of map is worth such a price?”

“A special one, obviously.” Jack shot the lieutenant an irritated glance. “It is, in a word, unique.”

“I’m sure it is.” James rolled his eyes. “I suppose it leads to the long-lost forgotten treasure of Poseidon, or some other such nonsense.”

“I’m not sure I appreciate your tone, mate,” Jack said. “I’ll have you know the map’s unique properties are undeniably valid and have proven most effective in assisting me with various, ah, pursuits.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s magic.”

“All right, I won’t tell you. Once we find it, you can see for yourself.”

James glared back at the pirate. He considered refusing to follow Jack any further, leaving the pirate to his own devices to either find the map or not. But Jack would likely have to return for his crew and bring them along to man the ship, and then there would be no guarantee when or if the pirates might return. Lord Beckett had made it clear that neither Jack nor James and his crew would receive any favors until the map was retrieved and returned, so it would do no good to hope for any help from the Company.

James realized it was in his, and the crew’s, best interests to remain on the Black Pearl where he could keep an eye on Jack and make sure he completed his assigned task. Then they would both have the best chance of getting what they wanted.

“I don’t suppose you have any idea where this map might be,” James finally said.

Jack grinned. “You underestimate me,” he replied. “It’s right where I left it.”

James was almost afraid to ask where, exactly, the pirate had left the “magic” map. As it turned out, he didn’t have to ask, as the grinning pirate was all too eager to volunteer the information.

“Gentlemen,” Jack said, grandly. “To Tortuga.”

“Lieutenant?” Briggs called from outside the hut.

It was late afternoon, nearly evening, and Groves had retreated inside the hut to get out of the worst of the sun. Briggs cautiously stepped inside. “Lieutenant, I think you should come out here. We might have a problem.”

“That didn’t take long,” Groves muttered, standing. He winced as he put weight on his injured ankle, and accepted Briggs’ shoulder when it was offered.

A small crowd had gathered at the edge of the village’s clearing, and was growing larger as more men from either side of the camp came to see what the fuss was about. Two sailors stood at the edge of the clearing with an empty water barrel between them. Anamaria faced them with crossed arms and her feet planted defiantly in their path. A small group of pirates stood behind her, looking sufficiently menacing even though Groves saw no weapons drawn.

“All right, what’s going on?” Groves demanded, directing the question to no one in particular. He let go of Briggs’ shoulder, thinking he would look more authoritative if he could manage to stand on his own.

“Not a thing, Lieutenant,” Anamaria replied. “Just trying to stick to your terms of truce.”

“She claims we’re violating some agreement,” one of the sailors explained. “That’s the path to the spring, there. We’re only trying to replenish our water supply.”

The sailors were about ready to riot, and the pirates looked as if they were more than ready to accept any challenge as an invitation to fight.

“Your terms, Lieutenant,” Anamaria said. “This here is the dividing line between your side of town and ours. Wasn’t it you who promised you’d keep to yourselves?”

“We’ve obviously got to have water,” Groves replied. “And that path isn’t on either side of town.”

A fat pirate chimed in from behind Anamaria. “You’ve got to walk through our side to get to the path!”

“They was walkin’ on our side!” his lanky companion added.

“Can’t have that, can we, Lieutenant?” Anamaria said, taking a few deliberate steps towards Groves. “Wouldn’t want your boys getting too close to the bad side of town.”

He shot her a stern look, forming a solution as quickly as he could. The tension between the two groups was rising, and it was only a matter of time before someone pulled a weapon and all hell broke loose. He glanced at the water barrel, then down the path. It was only a short walk to the spring, but it was no easy feat to fill the barrel and carry it back up to the camp.

Groves faced Anamaria again, meeting the mocking in her eyes with his own impatience. “How about this,” he said. “My men have free access to the spring, and in return, they’ll come back with two barrels of water. One for each side of camp.”

“We’ve already got water,” Anamaria said, ignoring the protests from both the sailors and the pirates. She cocked her head towards the barrel that sat in front of the pirates’ huts. “Plenty of it.”

Groves also glanced over at the barrel. He studied it for a moment, then pulled out his pistol and fired a shot through its wooden base, tearing open a hole that released the barrel’s contents onto the dirt. The sudden pistol shot silenced both crowds.

Anamaria looked over in surprise at the leaking barrel, watching for a moment as the puddle on the ground grew steadily larger. Then she looked back at Groves and started to speak, but he cut her off.

“Gentlemen,” he said, turning away from her to face the sailors. “Fetch the water, and find another barrel and bring water for Sparrow’s crew as well.”

More than one of the sailors started to protest. “But, sir, they—“

“That’s an order, sailors,” Groves said. “The next man who argues with me will fetch the water by himself.”

The complaints of the sailors immediately faded away. The two men with the barrel lifted it and began making their way down the path again, while two more headed back to camp to find a second for the pirates. Groves put his pistol away and watched as the crowds slowly began to disperse.

Anamaria studied Groves with a firm, steady gaze. When he noticed her, he met her eyes for a moment. He gave her a nod. “Have a pleasant evening,” he said, then turned and started back towards his own side of the little village.

Groves didn't look back, but he heard Anamaria shout after him, "Nice limp."

Chapter Text

Tortuga was less than a day’s sail from the little island, and James was thankful that the sea was quiet and the voyage without incident. The Black Pearl reached her destination after night had fallen. Even from the docks, the sounds of fighting, shouting, and noisy music were unmistakable.

“Ah, Tortuga,” Jack declared, as they prepared to go ashore. “Lovely little town, though I suppose it is a bit of an acquired taste.”

James rolled his eyes.

Jack started towards the plank that led down to the dock, but paused before beginning his descent and turned back. He looked James over with a frown, then made a face at Gillette. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, but you can hardly just waltz into Tortuga dressed like that.” He gestured at the uniforms and hats the officers wore. “Might as well just paint a target on your back and start handing out loaded pistols and rum.”

Jack sent James and Gillette down to the ship’s cargo hold to find some extra clothes. Tortuga was a haven for the lawless, banished, and destitute, and Jack was right that they couldn’t walk around wearing the King’s uniform if they wanted to blend in. James and Gillette changed into plain clothes they found among the pirate’s stash. They left behind everything that could identify them as officers, keeping only their weapons.

Jack confidently led the way into the center of the town. In front of one tavern two men were fighting over a dress while a small crowd cheered them on. A drunken string quartet played on the balcony of another building while equally drunken men and women danced in the street below. Everywhere there was fighting, dancing, and the smell of cheap liquor.

Gillette looked around in disgust. “This place is an abhorrence.”

“Not even your petty negativity will ruin my good spirits,” Jack said. He turned to face the two officers. “Now I have no reason to anticipate any trouble, but just in case it’s probably best to let me do the talking, should the need for talking arise. Savvy?”

“I wouldn’t dream of stealing your thunder,” James replied blandly.

“Oh good.”

“Jack Sparrow!” a female voice shouted.

Jack spun around and found himself face-to-face with a skinny, gaudily-clad wench. “Scarlett! I’ve been looking everywhere for—“

“You lied to me!” The woman punctuated the accusation with a solid slap across the pirate’s face.

Jack winced, but couldn’t resist the opportunity to try to talk himself out of trouble. “Lied?” he chuckled. “Of course not. Obfuscated, perhaps, but never—“

“You!” another woman shouted.

“Ah, Giselle,” Jack greeted her. “It’s been far too long since—“

He was interrupted by another slap. “Yarn, two marbles, and a piece of driftwood?” she said. “Next time, you pay up front!”

James watched in mild amusement as the pirate tried to make amends for his wrongdoings. Jack’s efforts were futile, however, and he earned himself one more slap from each of the women before they turned haughtily away from him.

Giselle paused next to Gillette as she left, a tantalizing smirk on her face. “This one’s cute,” she said, and squeezed the lieutenant’s arm. “And he’s strong, too.”

Gillette pulled away from the woman’s grasp.

“Too bad I have a prior engagement,” Scarlett said.

“Yes, shoo,” Jack said, waving the ladies away. They scowled at him one last time, then put their noses in the air and sauntered off together, deftly avoiding the stray punches thrown by drunken brawlers. Jack stared after them for a moment, then composed himself, snapping out of his pout and back into the enthusiastic confidence he so regularly displayed. “Come on, then,” he insisted, turning down one of the shadier alleyways. “This way!”

James instinctively put his hand on his sword as he followed the pirate down the dark path to a door that was nearly invisible in the shadows. Jack glanced around for a moment, to make sure they were alone, then crept up the few crooked steps to the door and knocked. There was no answer, even after an excruciating wait. Jack frowned. “I’m sure this is the one,” he said, and leaned forward to knock again just as the door swung inward. In its place was the end of a pistol.

“Who’s there?” a woman’s voice demanded.

“Ruby!” Jack said, jubilantly. “It’s only me, love.”

“Jack Sparrow?” the woman said, cautiously.

“The one and only!”

There was silence for a moment, then a lamp appeared next to the woman’s face, illuminating her features. Her eyes were as fierce as they were frightened. Her face relaxed slightly when she recognized Jack, but then glanced past him and saw that he wasn’t alone. “Who are they?” she demanded, gesturing to James and Gillette with the pistol.

“Comrades,” Jack replied. “Temporary allies, if you will. They won’t be any trouble.”

Ruby hesitated for a moment, studying the faces of the two strangers in the dim light of her flickering lamp. Then she slowly lowered the pistol and tucked it back into the belt she wore around her long brown skirt. “The last person who came through that door without an appointment had intentions to loot and burn the place,” she said.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” James insisted, as reassuringly as he could.

“Come in, then,” she said, and stepped aside to let the three visitors enter. As soon as they were inside, she shut the door and locked it behind them.

Inside they found a small sitting room that was somehow cozy despite its state of disrepair. Curtains were drawn across the only window, but a set of furniture occupied the room as if the woman often entertained visitors. A staircase at the back wall led up to a second floor. There was a doorway under the staircase that appeared to lead to a kitchen, and two other doors against the back and side walls that remained closed.

“Now Ruby, my love, you know how much I enjoy your company, and it’s been far too long since we’ve seen each other, but I must speak with your father at once,” the pirate said. “I don’t suppose he’s around?”

Ruby nodded. “Wait here.”

“Splendid,” Jack replied. “If he’s curious, tell him it’s about the map. You know the one, don’t you, love?” He plopped down on the sofa while Ruby went up the stairs, making each step creak as she did. Jack grinned over at the two officers, standing uncomfortably by the entrance. “See? No trouble at all. We’ll have our map and be out of here in no time.”

“That would certainly be a pleasant surprise,” Gillette said.

Ruby was only gone a moment. She came back down the stairs and went briefly to the kitchen, returned with three wooden bowls and matching spoons, then went back for a pot of stew. “My father won’t be long,” she said, setting the pot down on a knee-high wooden table that stood in the middle of the room. “There’s plenty here. Help yourselves.”

Jack’s face lit up. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said. He eagerly snatched up one of the bowls and filled it.

Ruby glanced over at James and Gillette. “There’s plenty,” she insisted. “Please, sit down and have some supper. You must be hungry.”

“Thank you,” James said. He realized he hadn’t eaten all day, and the smell of hot food was making it hard to ignore his empty stomach. Apparently meals were not a regular thing when the Black Pearl was missing her regular crew.  Gillette took the chair by the window, and James sat on the bench by the door, trying to hide a grimace as the motion of bending aggravated the pain in his side.

Ruby glanced at him with a slight frown. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” James said, trying to force the pain from his mind. He had managed to ignore the worst of it throughout most of the day, but now that night had fallen and he was feeling the exhaustion of a long day, the wound sent daggers through his side every time he moved.

Ruby stepped closer. “You’re in pain,” she said, and James was surprised to see that the mild concern on her face seemed genuine.

“It’s nothing,” he insisted. “It’s already been looked after.”

Ruby frowned for a moment, but didn’t question him further. She just handed him a bowl of stew, gave another one to Gillette, then sat with them while they ate in silence. After a few minutes Ruby disappeared back up the stairs. When she returned again, her father was with her. He was a short, stocky man who looked older than he was. His skin was wrinkled and weathered from the sun, and his thinning hair was prematurely white. His eyes were guarded, but not cold.

“Ah, Darius!” Jack exclaimed, with a wide grin. The pirate deposited his empty bowl on the table and hopped to his feet. “Just the man I wanted to see.”

“It’s been far too long, Jack Sparrow,” the man, Darius, replied, with just a hint of sarcasm in his words. “Ruby tells me you’ve been inquiring about the map.”

“Yes, I have, and if you’ll—“

Darius put up his hand to stop the pirate. “Before we talk business, Ruby, perhaps you could bring these men some wine?” He glanced over at Ruby, nodding towards the Commodore and lieutenant.

Ruby met her father’s eyes and nodded.

Jack pouted, seeing that he was not included. “What about me?”

“You know where the rum is,” Ruby said over her shoulder, as she disappeared into the kitchen.

Jack brightened, and ducked under the back staircase for a moment. He emerged with a flask of rum and returned to his place on the sofa. Darius seated himself in an armchair against the wall.

James watched Darius for a moment, a bit confused by the man’s efforts at hospitality despite the guarded suspiscion in his eyes. “What business are you in?” James asked, meeting the man’s eyes.

“That depends,” Darius replied. “Who’s asking?”

“No one,” Jack interrupted. “No one’s asking. He’s no one. Both of them, nobodys. Picked them up along the way and thought they might be useful. That’s all.”

Darius cast a sideways glance at Jack and paused a moment before answering. He turned his eyes back to the Commodore. “I’m a tradesman, of sorts,” Darius said. “Ruby is my assistant, and my apprentice.”

It was a vague, safe answer, revealing nothing.

Ruby returned and poured cups of wine for James, Gillette, and her father, then sat down next to Jack with her own. James sipped his wine. It was good wine, better than he had expected to find in a dilapidated house in Tortuga, and pleasantly strong.

“What about you?” Darius asked. “What business are you in?”

“We’re sailors,” James replied, offering an equally vague answer. “Separated from our crew.” He sipped the wine again. The drink was pleasantly strong, and he felt better as he relaxed a little. The pain in his side faded as he drank, though it was replaced by a dull ache in his temples.

Gillette was enjoying his drink, as well. “How are the two of you acquainted with Jack?” the lieutenant asked, draining his cup.

Ruby glanced at her father. “It’s a long story,” she said.

“We’ve got time,” Gillette said. His words slurred, and he leaned back in his chair a little too casually.

James frowned at the lieutenant.

Jack took a long drink of rum. “It all began when I caught our friend Darius cheating at cards in that tavern, over there,” Jack said, gesturing vaguely in no direction in particular. “Would’ve turned him in, too, if he hadn’t offered to pay handsomely for my silence.”

“That’s not how I remember it,” Darius replied.

“Well, you wouldn’t,” Jack said. “You were drunk.”

James felt drunk. He frowned down at his cup. He’d barely touched the wine, but his head felt hazy and his thoughts were sluggish. Gillette was slouched in the chair by the window, and in the darkness James couldn’t tell if the lieutenant was conscious. “Gillette?” he said, and heard the single word stumble off his lips. The lieutenant didn’t respond. James looked from Ruby to Darius, trying to remember if either of them had touched the drink in their cups, but his mind and the room were swirling in lazy circles.

Jack frowned at his flask. “Bugger,” he said. “Empty.” He set the empty flask down and reached for the bottle of wine on the table.

“Sparrow, don’t,” James ordered, standing up. He let his cup and the rest of its contents spill across the floor. “It’s poisoned.” His head spun and he stumbled back until he caught himself against the wall. Somehow he managed to draw his sword, but then realized as he tried to use it that he had no control over it. He stared across the room at Darius, trying to force his eyes to focus. “You poisoned us,” he mumbled, barely able to form the words. The room was spinning around him.

“Don’t worry,” Darius said, rising from where he sat. “It won’t kill you.”

“There’s no use fighting it,” Ruby said, also rising. She left her cup untouched on the little table and crossed over to James. “You’d better sit,” she said. She held his arm and took the sword from him. “Sit down, before you fall and hurt yourself.”

James looked over at Jack, who was frozen in mid-reach with a look of surprise on his face. In mild despair James realized he had allowed the pirate to lead himself and Gillette into a trap. He sank to the floor against the wall. The room kept falling away, and as the world faded, the last sight he knew was Ruby watching him from above.

Chapter Text

The next morning dawned bright and cloudless over the island campsite. Groves sent a group of men to take an inventory of their supplies and rations, partially because he wanted to know how much food was left, and partially because he sensed their boredom with the inactivity of the island and thought it a good idea to keep them occupied with useful tasks. If supplies were low, which he suspected they were, after nearly three days of being stranded on the island, he could divide the men into groups to gather food from the island.

Groves would have liked to give himself something useful to do, too. He supposed once the inventory report came back he could occupy his time by reading it, but that wouldn’t last long. He thought he should enjoy the rare chance for inactivity. The island’s scenery was beautiful, and the weather was warm but not unpleasant. Usually there was so much work to be done that pleasant days such as this one passed by without a spare moment to take any of it in. Now, he just wanted to be sailing again.

Maybe it was the knowledge that he was trapped on the island that made him so anxious, but Groves was desperate for some activity. He thought briefly of going down to the beach to watch the seagulls and the waves, and perhaps explore a little, but his ankle hurt badly enough while he was sitting down that he could hardly stand the thought of walking for any distance. So, instead of doing anything, he sat outside the hut, making idle conversation with Briggs and the other lieutenants.

Groves drew in a tense breath when he saw Anamaria coming towards him. Behind her, two pirates carried the barrel Groves had shot the night before. The pirates dropped the barrel in front of the lieutenant, and Anamaria waved them away. She stood next to the barrel and crossed her arms, watching the lieutenant with guarded eyes and a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“I wasn’t sure what to expect from you, but it wasn’t this,” she said, kicking the damaged barrel. “I’m impressed.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“What happened to your ankle?”

Groves frowned at her for a moment. “I tripped down a flight of stairs,” he admitted. “Not as heroic an explanation as I’d like, but a mast had just fallen and the sails were on fire, not to mention the man attempting to eviscerate me with a large sword, and at the time, my footing was the least of my concerns.”

Anamaria raised her eyebrows. “It’s not broken, is it?”

“Doctor Talbot says it’s just a sprain. It’s really all right.”

“Wait here.”

Anamaria turned abruptly and walked away, leaving Groves to sit on his bench, confused. It surprised him that she had chosen to seek him out for a conversation that had contained no shouting. He was confused by her interest in the barrel he’d destroyed. He had to admit he was a little pleased with himself for successfully putting an end to the previous day’s bickering, but at the same time he knew his impulsive “plan” could have easily backfired into a disaster.

Anamaria returned with a pair of wooden crutches. “They’re yours, if you want them,” she said, setting the crutches against the hut next to where Groves sat. “Which I imagine you do, from the way you’ve been hobbling around here.”

Groves frowned. “Thank you,” he said, cautiously. “I’m really not sure what I—“

“Don’t mention it,” Anamaria said. She turned and walked away, leaving as suddenly as she had arrived.

James was vaguely aware of rough fabric against his face. His head was pounding. He felt a gentle rocking sensation and heard the distant sounds of the sea. He sat up slowly, fighting against the grogginess as well as the familiar pain in his side. He groaned and rested his sore head in his hands, mentally cursing Jack Sparrow for leading him into a trap. After a moment he lifted his head to look around and survey his surroundings. He was sitting on a cot in a small cabin, and Gillette was unconscious on a cot against the opposite wall. For a moment James watched the lieutenant’s chest gently rise and fall to reassure himself that Gillette was still breathing and that the poison had not, in fact, been lethal.

James saw his weapons lying on the floor next to the cot, and he found it odd that they hadn’t been taken from him. He was on a ship, but it wasn’t the Black Pearl. He pushed himself off the cot and stood where he was for a moment, resting his hand against the wall until he was sure he felt steady on his feet. He felt a bit ill, but not dizzy. There was no window in the cabin, so he went to the door and was surprised to find that it wasn’t locked.

He left the cabin and went up to the main deck. The sun was up, though hidden behind a layer of clouds, but not high in the sky. James guessed it was about two hours past sunrise. A sparse crew was tending to the ship. It wasn’t a large vessel, but even so, James had expected to see more sailors. None of them paid any attention to him.

James went to the edge of the ship and looked out over the horizon. The ship was anchored and the island of Tortuga was visible off the ship's port side. It wasn't the same part of the island where they had anchored the Black Pearl the night before. He rested his elbows on the railing and rubbed his eyes. His head ached. He was both frustrated and perplexed by the situation. He and Gillette had been taken against their will, but were allowed to keep their weapons and move freely about their captors’ ship. It didn’t make any sense.

He lifted his head when he heard footsteps, and saw that Ruby had joined him. She carried a bottle of water and the look in her eyes was apologetic. “You look terrible,” she said.

“You poisoned me.”

“I know,” she said. “And I’m sorry about that. How do you feel?”

“Oh, I feel fantastic.”

She offered him the bottle. “Water?”

James just frowned at the bottle in her hand. 

“You’re awfully suspicious this morning.”

“Can’t imagine why.”

Ruby sighed. ”If I wanted you out of the way I would have locked you in the brig,” she said. “I even let you keep your weapons as a gesture of good faith.”

James cautiously accepted the bottle and drank from it.

“How’s your friend?”

“Still unconscious,” James said. He took another long drink, then poured some out into his palm and rubbed the cool water across his forehead.

“He did have a bit more than you did, but he’ll be all right.”

James returned the bottle. “If he’s not, you could be tried for murder.”

Ruby raised her eyebrows as if amused by the suggestion. “Tried?” she repeated. “By who?”

James had nearly forgotten that he was dressed in the clothes of a common pirate. He hardly had the appearance of someone with the authority to uphold the law, and there was no point in revealing his identity just to make an empty threat. “Where is Jack Sparrow?” he asked, changing the subject with a stern glance in Ruby’s direction.

“He’s gone ashore with my father,” she said. She took a sip from the canteen, then closed it and paced over to the ship’s railing.

“I don’t suppose he’ll ever be heard from again.”

“This really has nothing to do with you,” Ruby said, turning to face him. “I said it before, but I’ll say again that I’m sorry I had to poison you,” she said. “My father and I serve a powerful man. You’ve seen the place we live in. Mr. Crane offers protection for us as long as we pay our dues, and sometimes that means kidnapping the occasional pirate.”

“Sparrow?”

“You came here looking for a map,” Ruby continued. “We bargained it from Jack nearly a month ago and gave it to Mr. Crane as dues. But a week later Mr. Crane demanded an audience with Jack, and we swore to arrange a meeting as soon as we saw Jack again.”

Ruby glanced over at James as if trying to gauge his reaction to her story. “When the three of you showed up together, my father thought Jack might be more easily persuaded to come with us if his companions were unexpectedly incapacitated. So I slipped a little something into the wine to make sure you and your friend weren’t any trouble.”

Ruby finished her explanation and fell quiet, cautiously watching James as if waiting for his response. He had none. He stared out to sea and tried to decide whether he should believe her.

“We’re not powerful people, my father and I,” Ruby said. “We’re not soldiers, we’re not rich, we’re not anything. Not without Mr. Crane’s protection. He’s the only reason my father and I are free to run an honest business in that town.”

James raised his eyebrows at her, amused with her choice of words.

Ruby’s face hardened. “We’re good people,” she said.

“From where I stand you and your father are residents of a lawless town, associates of a known pirate, and kidnappers,” James replied. “Forgive me if I cannot summon any sympathy for your plight.”

Chapter Text

The day was pleasant, and James did his best to enjoy the warm, fresh air despite the situation. His head was clearer after some rest and some food, but Sparrow’s absence dragged on for hours and he found himself restless from the inactivity. Ruby didn’t seem concerned, but as noon came and went James was anxious for the pirate to return. Time was short, and the Commodore’s patience was also running out. He found himself studying the ship and the members of the crew, trying to decide if there was any possibility that he and Gillette might be able to gain control of the vessel, either through negotiations and coercion, or by force.

The latter was unlikely. Though the ship and her crew were small, the Commodore and his lieutenant were vastly outnumbered. The former was just as unlikely, as two shipwrecked sailors had nothing of value to offer in exchange for use of the ship.

It was an hour past noon when Gillette informed the Commodore that Jack was approaching in a longboat, accompanied by Darius. James nodded and followed the lieutenant across the ship to watch the pirate approach. He saw Ruby sitting across the ship, mending a sail. Every so often she glanced up to check on the rowboat’s progress, but she seemed generally unconcerned. The boat would arrive when it arrived, and until then she was content with her work on the sail.

The longboat arrived, and Darius came aboard first. He greeted the Commodore and the lieutenant with a nod and, “Afternoon, gentlemen,” as if he wasn’t holding them against their will.

James met the man’s eyes and held his gaze for a moment, making it clear that the breach of trust would not be so easily overlooked.

Ruby crossed the deck and greeted her father. “Well?” she said.

“It’s all sorted,” Darius replied. “No harm done.”

Relief washed over Ruby’s face, and she smiled and hugged her father. Then she turned her attention back to the railing as Jack Sparrow climbed up from the longboat onto the deck of the ship. James watched, too, as the pirate came aboard, looking very pleased with himself.

James and Ruby spoke at the same time, both demanding the pirate’s attention.

“What did Mr. Crane want?”

“A word, Sparrow.”

Jack paused, looking first to the Commodore and shrinking slightly from the stern glare that greeted him, then over to Ruby’s anxious, eager eyes. “I’m going over here with her,” Jack said, pointing to Ruby.

The pirate put a deliberate distance between himself and the Commodore, making a point of giving Ruby his full attention. “It seems it was all just a simple misunderstanding,” Jack said. “Apparently, stories of the map in question have evolved from their original form to include so-called facts which misconstrue the map’s true purpose, and it was due to an unfortunate miscommunication that your friend Mr. Crane came to an erroneous assumption as to the usefulness of said object.”

Ruby frowned. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“This map,” Jack said, “is a locator of persons, rather than places, or, as your associate was hoping, things. Allow me to demonstrate.” He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a roll of thick, weathered parchment.

“Jack!” Ruby said, shrinking away from the roll of parchment. “Jack, tell me you didn’t steal that.”

“I did not steal it,” Jack recited. He cautiously continued unrolling the parchment.

“Jack, you know we work for Mr. Crane. You know he’s our protection,” Ruby insisted. “How could you steal from him?”

“First of all,” Jack began, acting as if he were personally affronted by such an accusation, “as I mentioned earlier, I did not steal it.”

Ruby crossed her arms and chewed on her bottom lip, as if she were physically biting back further protests until she had listened to the pirate’s explanation.

“Second of all,” Jack continued, seeing that Ruby was offering him the opportunity to explain himself, “I am in dire need of this very map. It is, in fact, the very reason for our little visit.”

“You need it?” Ruby repeated. “What about us? Here I was, trusting you, ready to thank you, even, for helping us. And the whole time you were stealing from the man who keeps the gangs away from our doorstep.”

“You’d best return the map, Sparrow,” Darius said, stepping up to stand next to his daughter.

“Not stealing,” Jack insisted, holding up one finger and backing away from the pair. “Mr. Crane and I reached a bargain.”

“What bargain?”

“An exchange of goods.”

“What goods?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” Jack said, taking another step away from Ruby and her father. “I came over here because I thought you’d be reasonable, however it seems I might have a better chance if I tried my luck with the Commodore.”

James frowned at the pirate.

“Commodore?” Ruby repeated.

Jack froze, realizing his blunder. He looked at Ruby, then at Darius, and then over to James and Gillette before finally returning his gaze to Ruby. “Com-rade,” he said, making a poor attempt at covering up the fact he’d just revealed. “Comrade, is what I meant to say, of course. The, ah, comrade of mine, over there, is—”

“Shut up,” Darius said, throwing a glare in Jack’s direction.

“Oh, God.” Ruby slowly met the Commodore’s eyes. She stared at him for a moment. Her deep brown eyes betrayed something like panic, and she made no attempt to hide it. Her gaze drifted over to Gillette. “And what are you? His lieutenant?”

She had asked it as a rhetorical statement, lashing out in fear of standing in the presence of two officers, and hadn’t intended to guess correctly. But Gillette’s silence confirmed her statement.

“Oh my God, of course you are.”

Darius took a menacing step towards Jack. “Are you mad?”

Jack held up his empty hand, as if in surrender, and forced a nervous chuckle. “Doesn’t it get a bit repetitive, asking me that same question over and over again?”

“I open my doors to you and you bring a pair of officers—a Commodore—to my home?”

“If it helps,” Jack offered, taking a cautious step away from Darius, “he isn’t a very good Commodore.”

Darius snatched the map out of Jack’s hand. “That’s the last time I trust a pirate,” he said. He turned away, leaving Jack frozen as if he were still holding the roll of parchment, and shouted to the sailors, “Take us back to shore.” Darius glanced over at James and Gillette, then told Ruby, “We’ll leave them at their ship and be rid of them.” Then he started towards the main cabin, taking the map with him.

"But I need that map!" Jack shouted after him, suddenly finding his voice again.

"Not my problem," Darius replied, without turning around.

"I'll make you a deal."

"No."

"I'll return the pocket watch!"

Darius paused for a moment, but still didn't turn around. "No deal," he said, and disappeared into the cabin.

Ruby met the Commodore’s eyes again, and James finally found a bit of sympathy for his female captor. Her capable face suddenly looked small and innocent. For a moment he thought perhaps there was something he could say to reassure her that he still meant no harm against her, but he stopped himself before he spoke. The woman and her father seemed to respect the Commodore’s authority over the law. For the first time in days, James thought he might have the upper hand. Ruby turned away and followed her father into the cabin, and James silently watched her go.

The cabin door closed, and James turned his attention back to Jack. He glared at the pirate for a moment. "Consider our bargain cancelled," he said. "And know that you’ve cost yourself any amount of mercy I may have been inclined to show you or your crew.”

James turned away and went over to the main cabin.  As a gesture of good faith and respect, he knocked on the closed door and waited for Darius to shout, “Enter,” before he stepped inside.

Darius and Ruby were seated on either side of a small wooden desk at the back of the room, and both seemed a bit surprised when James entered, despite having called him in.

“Forgive the intrusion,” James began.

“What do you want?” Darius barked, standing.

“Don’t get up. I just want to speak with you.”

“I’ll do whatever I damn well please,” Darius said. “This is my ship.”

“Father,” Ruby said, quietly.

Her gentle reprimand had the desired effect. Darius allowed his anger to dissolve into a mild resentment, and he gestured to James. “Commodore, is it?” he said, with just a hint of mocking in his voice. “What is it you’ve come to say?”

“With all respect to you, your daughter, and your crew, I think we both know who has the upper hand here,” James said. He relished the sound of strength in his own voice. “My association with Jack Sparrow is hardly of my own choosing. My men are stranded. Sparrow happened upon our makeshift camp, and I struck a deal with him that I might use his ship as transportation to the nearest safe port. I have no use for a man like him. I only need a ship, and I’d much rather have yours.”

Darius’s eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened into a frown as the commodore spoke. He was silent for a long moment after James had finished, studying the commodore’s face and words with all the scrutiny he could summon. His gaze was neither hostile nor welcoming. His eyes betrayed nothing. James kept his gaze neutral as well, watching the other man’s dark unwavering eyes.

Finally, Darius spoke. “You want my ship,” he said. It was a statement, not a question, as he had clearly understood the commodore’s request. “And you expect me to simply hand it over.”

“I hardly expect that,” James said. “I simply want to be your passenger. My men are waiting just one day’s sail from here, and there is a port close to their current location which should be friendly enough to take us in.”

Darius paused again. His frown was deeper this time as he once again studied the commodore. James still held the other man’s gaze, though he was desperately curious to see Ruby’s face. Perhaps the woman who had shared a drink of water with the man she had kidnapped would have a softer heart. Maybe she would be moved to help the stranded sailors, and maybe she could influence her father to do the same.

“No,” Darius said. “We’ll return to Tortuga, as planned. If you are who seem to be, no good can come to us while we associate with you.”

“If I am who I seem to be, surely you know I have the authority to seize this vessel against your will,” James said. “You seem a reasonable man.”

“So do you,” Darius replied. He stepped out from behind the desk to close the gap between himself and the commodore. “I think you know what will happen if you try to take this ship out from under her captain. You might have fancy weapons and lofty titles, but there are only two of you.” He stopped, crossed his arms, and just held the commodore’s gaze.

The stalemate was broken by a distant cry of, “Ship to starboard!” coming from the ship’s deck.

Darius turned his attention to the cabin doors just as one of his sailors entered, followed closely by Gillette. “Captain, there’s a ship, sir,” the sailor reported. “Just off the stern. She’s hailing us.”

Darius frowned. “What kind of ship?”

“I don’t know.”

James looked to his lieutenant.

“Privateers,” Gillette said. “English flag, but the ship looks Spanish.”

“What do they want?” Ruby asked, standing to join her father. She directed the question at no one in particular, and glanced at all four men as if giving each a turn to answer the question.

Darius moved towards the cabin door without a word, pushing his way to the deck of his ship. The sailor went after him, and the others followed.

The unidentified ship was approaching them nearly head on. It must have approached from the other side of the island and remained unseen until now. James studied the ship and saw that Gillette was right.

“One of yours, Commodore?” Darius said, using the title like an insult.

“Not exactly,” James said. “Most likely they were commissioned for a particular task, perhaps the apprehension of a fugitive or the recovery of stolen possessions. It seems they’ve abandoned their mission and opted for piracy under the flag of England instead.”

“How can you tell?” Ruby asked.

“Well, the English flag on a Spanish ship should be a clue that something isn’t right,” Gillette said.

Ruby shot the lieutenant a harsh look. “You don’t have to be spiteful. If it weren’t for common people like us, there would be no one to make you look so special in comparison.”

James watched the ship approach, and tried to predict what her captain’s intentions might be. It was possible he assumed any ship bound from Tortuga carried criminals and stolen property and hoped to capture someone or something of value in exchange for reward money. It was just as likely he had no interest in any pretense and simply planned to loot the ship’s cargo hold. The Spanish ship was significantly larger and sturdier than theirs.

James looked over at Darius. “Is this ship armed?”

Darius frowned. “She’s got a couple cannons, and a few rifles, if I’m not mistaken.”

“We’ve never needed them,” Ruby insisted. “Do you think that ship wants to attack us?”

James looked over at Gillette, and they shared a glance for a moment. They had been in this situation many times before. Either the other ship had honorable intentions and a legitimate explanation for her strange appearance, or she didn’t. Usually the Commodore and the Lieutenant were sailing on a powerful ship of the fleet surrounded by a crew of competent soldiers and sailors so that it hardly mattered what the other ship had planned. Here, they stood all but defenseless on the deck of a mediocre vessel.

“Gather a few men and ready the cannons, but don’t raise any alarm,” James said.

Gillette obeyed, but Darius stepped towards the Commodore with a glare. “Don’t you think the captain ought to give orders on his own ship?”

James faced him. “And what, exactly, are your orders, Captain?”

“I think we should hear them out. See what they want.” Darius crossed his arms, stubbornly rejecting the Commodore’s orders mostly because they weren’t his own. “We’re not warriors here. Just peaceful, honest workers.”

James didn’t believe for a moment that Darius was either peaceful or honest. He was tempted to let Darius have his way, just to see how events unfolded. There was, after all, a chance that the unidentified ship was simply a vessel captained by honest privateers with a perfectly good reason for sailing on a Spanish ship. And if the privateers were really nothing more than pirates, it would be almost satisfying to watch Darius suffer the consequences of ignoring sound advice. But his conscience and better judgement steered him away from apathy. They were all on this ship together, and it was in his own best interests to do everything in his power to save it.

“Suppose her captain wishes to come aboard,” James said.

“We’ve got nothing to hide.”

“Are you in possession of any stolen property?” the Commodore asked, referring pointedly to the suspicious map. “Or any property which might be even misconstrued as stolen?”

Darius hesitated. “We didn’t bring that map aboard. It was Sparrow, a pirate.”

“A pirate,” James said. “Yes, Jack Sparrow, a convicted pirate, a man who has found refuge aboard your vessel. Now you’re harboring a dangerous fugitive.”

Darius threw a nervous glance towards Jack, then towards the other ship that was drawing nearer every moment. “If any privateers want Jack Sparrow, they can have him,” Darius said. “I’m done with pirates. Got no use for the likes of him anymore.”

James also looked out towards the ship. It wouldn’t be long before her deck was within shouting distance. He faced Darius again. “If you allow even one man to set foot on this deck, you may as well surrender the entire ship. The moment this ship is boarded, you’ve lost her. You can either believe me or take your chances on your own.”

“Now, I don’t—“

“I’d listen to what he says, mate,” Jack spoke up, taking a tentative step towards Darius. “I might’ve exaggerated before when I said he made a lousy Commodore. He’s actually not half bad, if I do say so myself. And you can take my word, you know, being a man of the sea myself, and seeing as I have no reason to flatter a man who will most likely—“

“Commodore,” Gillette said, returning from the lower deck. He was carrying a rifle. “Four cannons, two on each side. The men are making them ready. As for additional weapons, we found two rifles and a pistol.”

“Any spare ammunition?” James asked. The skepticism in his voice earned him a glare from Darius.

“The men are bringing it.”

James took the rifle from his lieutenant and looked it over. It looked functional enough until he discovered it was empty. He turned to Darius. “This isn’t loaded.”

“We don’t keep them loaded,” Ruby said. “We’ve never needed them. Usually when we’re sailing we have Mr. Crane’s men to—"

“Load it now,” James ordered, handing the weapon to Darius. “And keep it loaded unless you’re firing it to defend yourself. Otherwise you may as well sell it and use the money to hire yourself a proper Captain.”

Darius looked like he was ready to explode. “I’ll run my ship the way I see fit.” He drew himself up to his full height, which was just above the Commodore’s shoulders, attempting to take a menacing stance. “We should have left you in the streets in Tortuga, where you wouldn’t be so—“

“I’ll do it,” Ruby said, stepping in and taking the rifle from her father.

Darius turned to his daughter, startled. “You will not,” he said. “We don’t take orders from this man. He’s—“

“He’s trying to help. I think,” Ruby insisted, throwing an anxious but hopeful glance in the Commodore’s direction. “And he’s an officer. I… I think he—“

“I’m not so sure he is an officer,” Darius interrupted. He frowned, stepping closer to James and studying his face and clothes. “I think he’s just a bully with a loud mouth and questionable taste in associates.”

“Of course he’s an officer,” Ruby said. “Look at his sword. It’s magnificent. A common bully wouldn’t have a sword like that. Either he is the Commodore he says he is, or he’s killed the real Commodore and stolen his weapon, so either way I think we should listen to him.”

Darius’ face registered both surprise and displeasure. For a moment James thought Darius might ignore Ruby and continue resisting any orders that weren’t his own, but he didn’t. Darius took the rifle back from his daughter, threw a glare in the Commodore’s direction, then crossed the deck to find ammunition for the weapon.

As the ship drew closer, James sent Gillette below to oversee the men at the cannons. “Find out if this ship has any chance of outrunning that one,” James said. “Prepare to raise the anchor on my signal.”

Darius scowled from across the deck, while Ruby stared out at the approaching ship when she wasn’t throwing anxious glances in the Commodore’s direction. James trusted the man and his daughter not to be any trouble, but then he looked over at Jack and frowned.

“You, Sparrow,” he said. “Go below and keep yourself hidden.”

Jack grinned. “Embarrassed of me, are you?”

“You’re a liability and you know it. You will go below and remain there until I tell you otherwise.”

“Now what makes you think I—“

“Jack, just do it,” Ruby said. “Please, just do it.”

Jack opened his mouth to protest, but stopped. He held Ruby’s gaze for a moment then shrugged. “Fine,” the pirate relented. “I suppose if there’s a consensus, there’s not much to be done. I’ll just hide myself below, then, shall I?” He made his way to the staircase and disappeared below the deck.

James wanted to shout after the pirate and warn him to keep out of trouble, or better yet, have Gillette lock Sparrow up somewhere, but the other ship had finished her approach. She pulled up alongside Darius’s vessel. James stepped up to the ship’s rail to face the other ship’s captain. There was still a bit of distance between the two ships, enough that they weren’t in danger of being boarded just yet. James scanned the ship’s deck, identifying the officers and most importantly, the captain. He remained resolutely silent, determined to control the conversation by forcing the other man to speak first.

“You there!” the captain shouted across the deck. “Identify yourself.”

“I was going to ask the same of you,” James replied.

“You are bound from Tortuga,” the captain said. “Identify yourself.”

“And you sail a Spanish ship under an English flag.”

“Good eye, sailor,” the captain said, tossing the words across the deck like a taunt. “So you know not to fool with me. I’ll ask you once more. Identify yourself.”

James paused for a moment. He was painfully aware that he was standing on an unidentified ship, dressed in plain clothes, facing a powerful ship likely crewed by skillful sailors. But there was no other choice than to proceed with the encounter. James ignored the fact that he was dressed like a common sailor and spoke to the other captain as he would in any other situation.

“Commodore James Norrington, of His Majesty’s Navy,” James said. “This ship is under my command, and you are ordered to identify yourself and state your intentions.”

“His Majesty’s Navy?” the captain replied. “Cutting back a bit on the uniforms, are they?”

“If you are indeed an honest privateer you’ll know my name and reputation. I’m not someone to play games with, Captain.”

“Sounds like you’re someone who needs to take better care of His Majesty’s ships.”

The other ship was closer now, close enough to board. “Don’t make me ask again,” James said, ignoring the captain’s taunt. “Identify yourself and your intentions.”

“Captain Lloyd Whitty, a privateer for His Majesty, and I’ve got the papers to prove it,” the captain replied. “I am in pursuit of several very specific, very valuable pieces of stolen property belonging to a man of some importance to our governing powers. He wishes these pieces found and returned. I shall have to search your ship.”

“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” James said. “This vessel is the property of the Royal Navy and you have no authority to seize anything she is carrying. You’ve wasted enough of my time. My men are in need and this ship is on a rescue mission.” It was a stretch of the truth, but James hardly thought this man deserved the truth, or that he would choose to accept it even if he heard it.

“It’s a mere formality, Commodore.” The captain’s words were cordial enough, but his tone was increasingly impatient. He waited for a response, and when he got none, the captain changed tactics. “I have a proposal for you, Commodore,” he said, using the proper title as if he now respected it. “Allow me to search your ship, and, no matter what I find, my comrades and I will take charge of your rescue mission. What do you say? Do I have your permission to come aboard?”

James took a moment to consider the man’s words. He didn’t trust Captain Whitty for a moment. He may be a privateer with the proper papers and on a legitimate mission to recover stolen goods, but that certainly didn’t mean he wouldn’t tear the ship apart looking for anything of value. He would likely take anything that interested him, whether that was food, supplies, valuables, or even members of the ship’s own crew.

James glanced over at Ruby. She was watching him anxiously, waiting for his response the captain’s offer. It was likely Captain Whitty would keep his promise, even if he did loot the ship and take the crew as prisoners, simply to keep up the illusion that he was an honest privateer and not a common pirate. But while James was perfectly willing to sacrifice Jack Sparrow, he wasn’t willing to stand by and leave Darius, Ruby, and their crew in the hands of ruffians. Such a thing would make him no better than Whitty.

James looked over his shoulder to Gillette. “Raise the anchor and ready the cannons,” he said, then turned back to face the privateers.

“Well?” Whitty shouted. “Permission to come aboard?”

“Denied,” James said, and felt the ship lurch free of her anchor.

Gillette stepped up to the Commodore’s side. “Guns are ready, sir.”

“Have the helmsman take us out to sea, past her,” James said. He looked back towards the privateers’ ship. “If she tries to stop us we’ll have her in range of the cannons as we pass by.”

“Sir, we can’t out-gun her.”

“No, but we can disable her while we move out of range.”

Gillette hurried to relay the instructions to the helmsman, and the ship slowly began to move. James watched Whitty as the distance between the ships started to increase, trying to anticipate what the captain might do as he turned around to give orders to his own crew. This was clearly not Whitty’s first day as a rogue privateer.

There was a shout from across the deck from one of Darius’ crew members as a grappling hook landed in the ship’s rigging, and then another.

James took the rifle from Ruby and fired a shot through the first rope, sending one of the privateers splashing into the water between the two ships. James crossed the deck just in time to meet the second man as he crossed the gap and landed on the ship’s railing, finding himself with the Commodore’s pistol facing his chest. James cocked the pistol and the man’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment before he let go of the rope in surrender, falling backwards into the water.

Captain Whitty shouted curses across the widening gap as Darius’ ship picked up speed. His crew scrambled to bring out more grappling hooks.

“Darius,” James shouted, startling the man to attention. He handed Darius the spent rifle. “Reload this. Don’t let them set foot on this deck.” He didn’t give Darius a chance to protest before he turned his attention to Gillette. “We have two cannons on this side, so we’ve got two shots,” James said. “Take down her mast with the first, then breach her hull at the waterline. Do you trust these men to operate the guns?”

Gillette hesitated. “We’ve only got two shots, sir.”

“Take the first yourself. Let Sparrow take the second.”

“Sir?”

“Like it or not, he’s a man of the sea and capable of operating a cannon with a reasonable degree of skill.” James stepped over to the top of the stairs. “Sparrow,” he shouted, and the pirate appeared at the base of the staircase. “Man the second cannon. Lieutenant Gillette will give you your orders and if you even think of questioning him I will personally put a bullet in your head the moment we’re free of this. Am I clear?”

“Excessively clear, mate,” Jack replied. “A bit over the top, actually, with the—"

James didn’t stay to hear the rest of the pirate’s sentence. He moved back to the railing so he could see the other ship as it turned to pursue them, leaving Gillette to make sure the cannons hit their mark.

Ruby hurried over to the Commodore, once again carrying a rifle. “What’s going to happen?” she asked. Her eyes were frantic. “I think they’re bringing out their cannons. They’ll sink us.”

Gunshots rang out as the privateers fired rifles and pistols. Darius fired back, then ducked below the railing to reload. James took Ruby’s arm and pulled her away from the edge of the ship. He felt the deck vibrate beneath his feet as the first cannon boomed from the lower deck. Ruby jumped, startled by the cannon shot, and they both watched as the cannonball found its mark, splintering the mast on the other ship. The mast creaked and began to fall, and then the second cannon fired, ripping a hole in the ship’s side. Water lapped towards the gash.

The privateer’s ship was severely crippled and the gap between the two ships continued to widen. James stepped to the stern and heard Captain Whitty’s shouted curses. Whitty ordered his men to open fire, but the bullets and cannonballs fell short of their target.

It was silent across the deck as Darius’ crew watched the privateers fade towards the horizon. James watched the ship until it was gone, then he turned back to face the crew that looked at him with what looked like reverence mixed with fear. They’d never seen someone command their ship with such skill and decisive action. Darius stepped forward, and James met him in the middle of the deck.

“The ship is yours,” James said.

Darius looked at him for a moment with his hard, guarded eyes, and James saw a small battle raging behind them. “And yours,” Darius finally said.

James bowed his head in gratitude. “My lieutenant will give your helmsman a heading to the place where my men are stranded.”

Chapter Text

“Lieutenant.”

Groves sat on a bench outside the hut, with his leg outstretched so he could rest his sore ankle up on a little wooden stool. His coat was rolled up like a cushion under his foot. Doctor Talbot stood at the edge of the path and had the look of a man who hadn’t slept. His collar was unbuttoned, his shirt untucked, and his sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

Groves reached for the crutches at his side and pushed himself off the bench. “What is it?” he asked, though he could tell from the doctor’s face that it wasn’t good news.

The doctor hesitated, glancing towards a few of the men who were gathered nearby. “Perhaps we should talk inside.”

Groves led Talbot into the hut. “I hope you don’t mind if I sit,” he said, lowering himself onto the cot so he wouldn’t have to lean on the crutches or stand on his sore ankle. “Join me if you like.”

Talbot pulled one of the chairs out from the table in the center of the hut. He dragged it slowly, letting it scrape against the hut’s crude wooden floor, as he turned it so that he could face the lieutenant as he sat. The doctor was never one to mince words, but he was clearly reluctant to say what he had come to say. Talbot sat, resting his hands on his knees, and faced Groves. “Johnson’s dead. He passed just before midnight.”

Groves glanced at the ground. He had guessed the nature of the bad news from the doctor’s demeanor, but hearing it out loud made the room feel heavy.

“We lost Nichols just half an hour ago,” Talbot continued. “And I’m afraid Lieutenant Morris doesn’t have much time.”

“Dear God.” Groves put his face in his hands for a moment. He had expected a bad report from the doctor, but he hadn’t anticipated it would be news of two deaths and an impending third. The men were shipwrecked and stranded, living alongside pirates, and now their comrades were dying.

“There was nothing to be done, sir,” Talbot said. “They’d have been just as dead had we landed at the finest hospital in the New World.”

Groves lifted his head and met the doctor’s eyes. “I know you did everything you could,” he said. “I’m just sorry they had to die on my watch. I don’t know if that’s selfish.”

“I understand, sir.”

It was silent for a long moment. The air in the hut was still. Groves thought the doctor might have more to say, but he was afraid to ask in case it was more bad news, so he just waited. Outside he could hear the muffled activities of the sailors. Surely they knew something was wrong when they saw the doctor disappear into the hut with the lieutenant. Groves decided he’d tell them if they asked, but otherwise he’d let word of the deaths spread naturally, the way he knew it would.

“Is your ankle any better?”

“It’s not worse,” Groves answered. “The crutches help.”

“Make sure you use them,” the doctor said, standing. “I don’t know if I want to know how a crew of pirates managed to get their hands on those, but you’re a lucky man they saw fit to share with you.”

Groves spent the rest of the day feeling tired and preoccupied. He could see the news of the sailors’ deaths spreading throughout the camp, and though he knew he was hardly responsible for the loss of life, he could almost feel the way the men glanced at him as they learned the news.

Finally he was tired of sitting outside the hut and receiving sideways glances. He made his way up a small slope at the back of the camp and sat in the shade under a ring of palm trees. Up on the hill he felt like he had escaped from the mild tension that had found its way into the atmosphere.

The air was hot, even in the shade, and Groves was just trying to decide if he was thirsty enough to put in the effort of walking back down to get some water from the camp when he saw Anamaria approaching from the left.

“It’s a nice little spot,” she said. “I’m not surprised you found it.”

Groves just glanced over at her.

“You’re cheerful today.”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” he said, looking back towards the camp again. “My ankle hurts.”

“Right.” She paused and glanced down at the little village in the clearing before looking back to Groves. “I’ll leave you alone then,” she said, and started down the path that led back to camp.

Groves immediately regretted her absence. “You don’t have to go,” he said, hoping he hadn’t called out too abruptly or too eagerly. “I wouldn’t mind some company.”

Anamaria stopped and turned back to look at him. “Lonely at the top, is it?”

“I suppose it’s something like that.”

“I heard about your two shipmates,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

Groves just nodded, and Anamaria held his gaze for a moment, until he looked away. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and continued down the path towards the camp.

He watched her go until he couldn’t see her through the glare of the late afternoon sun, and he watched the moving figures of his men and Sparrow’s men until Anamaria came back up the hill carrying a bottle under her arm and a bowl in each hand. She handed Groves a bowl of fish stew. “Your cook made a fine meal for the lot of us,” she said. She sat down next to him with her own bowl and rested the bottle in the sand between them. “Not sure who caught the fish.”

There were no spoons, so Groves drank the stew straight from the bowl. When the soup was gone, Anamaria uncorked the bottle, drank from it, then offered it to the lieutenant.

The bottle smelled like rum, and Groves hesitated. “I’d better not,” he said.

“It’s half water.”

Groves cautiously accepted the bottle. The mixture tasted a bit too strong to be half water, but he drank it anyway. “I think I needed that.”

“It’s remarkable how much better things look after you’ve had some food and a strong drink.”

He glanced over at her. “Is there any water in there at all?”

A smile tugged at the woman’s mouth. “A little.” She took the bottle and drank from it again.

Groves felt a slight breeze for the first time all day, and he glanced up at the sky. “I think tomorrow might bring us some relief from this heat.”

Anamaria followed his gaze and nodded. “We’d better bring the supplies inside tonight,” she said. “Feels like it could rain before morning.”

Groves agreed, but neither of them moved yet. They silently shared the drink and watched the sun sink lower behind the island. Groves found himself suddenly intensely curious about the woman sitting next to him, and he looked over at her. “How long have you been on Jack’s crew?” he asked.

She met his eyes and studied him for a moment before responding. “How long have you been a navy man?” she replied.

Groves smiled slightly and looked back towards the village. He supposed it was only fair that he should answer first, seeing as the pirate woman had far more to lose by sharing information than he did. “I’ve been in the navy for eleven years, in Port Royal for seven, and hearing promises of promotion for two,” he said. “And I can honestly say, being stranded on an island living in a village owned by pirates is a first.”

Anamaria smiled slightly. “Jack Sparrow and I go way back,” she said. “This time around I’ve been sailing with him ever since he and that blacksmith showed up in Tortuga. He promised that ship would be mine as soon as he had the Pearl back, but Captain Barbossa destroyed it.”

“The Interceptor, yes.” Groves winced as he remembered the aftermath of the incident that had destroyed the fastest navy ship in the Caribbean. “The Commodore was livid.”

“It was a good ship.” Anamaria sipped the rum again and passed the bottle back to Groves. She met his eyes as he accepted it. “Jack’s a good captain, no matter what you say.”

Groves took the bottle. “Actually…” He had another sip of the rum before continuing. “I’ve always found the tales of Jack Sparrow a bit fascinating. When he stole the Interceptor right from under us, that was the best bit of pirating I’d ever seen.”

Anamaria was clearly amused. “I wouldn’t say that too loudly around the Commodore.”

“Right.” He hesitated a moment. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t again.”

Anamaria chuckled and shook her head, and then there was silence again. The men in the village were nothing more than silhouettes against the setting sun. Groves counted the days since the Commodore’s departure. It had been only two days and two nights, but it felt like longer. He hoped with every fiber of his being that the Black Pearl would return before a week had passed, so he wouldn’t be faced with the decision to follow the Commodore’s instruction to send a longboat towards the nearest port.

“How long do you suppose until your captain returns?” Groves asked.

“Could be tomorrow, could be in a month,” Anamaria said. “There’s no telling with Jack.”

Groves took a long drink from the bottle. He had expected that answer, but the had hoped that she might have been able to give a more definite one. “Any idea where they’ve gone?”

She hesitated. “I suppose there’s no use not telling you. If the Commodore makes it back, he’ll tell you anyway.”

Groves frowned at her, not liking where her reply was heading.

Anamaria sighed and met his eyes. “Lord Beckett of the East India Trading Company has a fort on the back side of this island where he conducts some of his more unsavory business deals. Jack made a deal with Beckett for use of a certain piece of property, but we were forced to leave Mr. Gibbs behind as insurance that the borrowed property wouldn’t be stolen.”

“Good God.”

“You know Jack. He left the item in Tortuga and thought he could negotiate again for Gibbs’ freedom, but Beckett refused. So we came back here and found you lot.”

“That’s… What sort of man would trade a member of his own crew for—”

“Pirate,” Anamaria said, with a shrug.

Groves stared out over the village. The men were beginning to make their evening preparations, and it was nearly time to start bringing the supplies inside ahead of the coming rain. “If things had gone well at Lord Beckett’s fort, they’d be back by now.”

“Things are never simple with Jack.”

Groves handed the bottle back to Anamaria and stood with the help of his crutches. “We’d better get the supplies inside for the night.”

Chapter Text

Once the danger had passed, the activity aboard the ship settled back to normal. James went to the edge of the ship, putting some distance between himself and the crew for a few moments of quiet to clear his head. His side was splitting. He leaned on the railing and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain. He was concerned that the recent wound may have broken open again, but he was afraid to look. He just drew in slow breaths, hoping the fresh air might distract him from the daggers that shot through his body every time he moved.

“Commodore?”

James glanced up and saw that Ruby had followed him.

“Is that what I should call you?”

“It is my proper title. Most people use it.”

“Of course.” Ruby hesitated for a moment, watching him at the railing. “Is everything all right?”

“Fine,” he said.

“I want to thank you, again,” Ruby said, once she had his attention. “You had every right to turn us in, to let them sink us to the depths, but you didn’t. I think you’re a good man, and I think you know we’re good people, too.”

James nodded, acknowledging her thanks. “Is that all?”

“Yes,” Ruby said. “Just… thank you. I’m sorry I bothered you. I shouldn’t have…” Ruby frowned as she studied his face. “You don’t look so good.”

James turned away from Ruby and steadied himself on the railing again, avoiding her gaze. He closed his eyes and hoped she would just go away.

Ruby stepped up to join him at the railing, refusing to be ignored. “You’re awfully pale,” she said, taking his arm. “Sit down. I’ll get you some water.” Her touch was gentle, but firm, and she guided him to the bench along the railing. Ruby frowned when she saw him holding his side as he sat down. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Are you hurt?”

James finally glanced down at his hand and saw blood covering his palm. He cursed and put his hand back over the wound.

“You’re bleeding,” Ruby said. She pulled his hand away again so she could see where the blood was coming from. “Were you shot?”

“No,” James said. “It’s all right. Doctor Talbot already looked after—“

"I’m sure he did, and I’m sure he’s a fine doctor,” Ruby interrupted. “But you’re bleeding. We’ve got to make it stop.” Ruby stood up as Gillette appeared behind her, followed by Jack. “Let me help,” she insisted. “I’m a physician.”

James lifted his head to meet her eyes, making no effort to hide his skepticism. There was no such thing as a woman who called herself a physician. And if there were, she surely wouldn’t be living in Tortuga and associating with pirates.

"My father told you he was a tradesman. His trade is medicine, as is mine,” Ruby said. “I can help you.”

“She’s right, mate,” Jack said. “Patched up ol’ Jack more than once.”

James glared at Jack for a moment, then looked back to Ruby. The kindness in her eyes was genuine, and though James had every doubt in his mind that the woman was a proper doctor, he didn’t seem to have much choice. The pain was bad, and he was tired of pretending it wasn’t. Surely he could trust the woman to wrap a few bandages. “Not here,” he relented.

Ruby turned to Gillette. “Help him to the cabin,” she said. “Jack, bring water.”

“Jack Sparrow is nobody’s nursemaid,” Jack protested. “And certainly not his.”

“Fetch it, or I burn your precious map.”

Ruby led James and the lieutenant to the main cabin, which was was spacious but also pleasantly cozy. A sturdy wooden table stood in the center of the room with benches on either side. A set of cots rested against one wall, and and the opposite wall was lined with another set of wooden benches. There was even a small fireplace against the back wall. Ruby directed James to one of the cots. He sat down with some help from Gillette, still holding his side and trying not to move too much.

Ruby disappeared across the cabin for a moment, then returned with a basin and a few rags. She unbuttoned the Commodore’s shirt and removed the bloodstained bandages, just as Jack entered with a bucket of water. The pirate tried to make a hasty exit, but Ruby stopped him, ordering him to stay in case she needed anything else. She gently wiped the blood away from the wound with a damp rag and inspected it for a moment. James glanced past her and saw Gillette's face turn white.

“It really isn’t so bad,” she said. She brought another cloth out of the basin. It smelled like spices, and Ruby pressed it against the wound.

James winced and drew in a sharp breath.

“Sorry,” Ruby said. “It won’t hurt so much in a minute. Hold that. I’ll be right back.”

James obeyed, holding the cloth against the wound. Slowly the pain started to subside. 

Ruby turned around and paused when she saw Gillette's face. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing," Gillette said.

"He's squeamish," James said. "Lieutenant, maybe you should just go."

"No," Gillette protested. "No, I'm fine."

Ruby sighed and walked away to the back of the cabin. She returned with a bag of supplies and a few pillows under her arm. “It isn’t bad,” she said again, kneeling in front of the cot, “but I should sew it up.”

"Oh, God," Gillette said. He sat down on the bench near the table and put his head between his knees.

James frowned at Ruby. “I’m sure that isn’t necessary. Just wrap it up again and I’ll—”

“If I do that, it could just open up again.” She set the pillows on the end of the cot. “Lie down,” she said. When he hesitated, she added, “You know I’m right. Unless you’re planning to stay quietly in bed for the next week, that wound is never going to heal if you don’t let me put a few stitches in. Lie down, and let me fix it.”

James lay back on the pillows, and Ruby took the cloth from him. Jack appeared at the Commodore’s side and offered a flask of rum. “You’re going to want this, mate,” the pirate said, with a theatrical seriousness.

“I don’t like this,” Gillette said from where he sat, shielding his eyes from the wound. "Sir, are you sure—"

“No,” James said, accepting the flask. He drank from it until it was empty, then handed it back to Jack and looked over at Gillette. "Of course you don't like it. Maybe you'd better go."

Gillette started to protest, but Ruby cut him off and ordered Jack to take the lieutenant out. Jack knew better than to argue, and Gillette complied after James repeated Ruby's instruction.

Ruby brought out a needle and stiff thread and promised to work quickly. James clutched the side of the thin mattress to stop himself from crying out as he felt the needle pierce the tender edge of the wound. Ruby’s hands were gentle and steady as she worked. She was silent as she focused on her task. James turned his eyes towards the wall so he wouldn't accidentally meet her eyes.

When Ruby finally finished, she brought the compress back and gently pressed it against the wound again. Slowly the pain started to fade and James let go of the mattress, suddenly realizing his fingers ached from gripping it so tightly.

“Better?” Ruby asked.

James just put his hand over his eyes.

"It will be," Ruby said. "Hold the compress while I find you a blanket. You can sleep here tonight."

Chapter Text

Groves woke up sometime near midnight to a frantic pounding on the side of his hut. He lifted his head and blinked, looking around the hut for the source of the noise. There was barely enough light to see.

“Lieutenant!”

Groves pushed himself upright, a bit groggy and not especially pleased to be yanked out of sleep.

The door of the hut burst open and Briggs rushed in. “Lieutenant, there’s a fire,” he said. “Across camp. One of the huts is on fire.”

Groves heard shouting outside his hut, and he got up to follow Briggs outside. He immediately saw the flames reaching through the roof of one of the huts. The men were starting to gather outside in the path, taking in the situation. The pirates had gathered as well, some of them shouting at each other, and a few tossed buckets of water towards the flames but their firefighting efforts had little to no effect on the blaze.

Groves moved to the center of the camp, putting himself between the groups of men and fired his pistol into the air to get their attention. “Listen,” he said. “I don’t care how it started, but now we’ve got to stop it. All hands, gather anything that can hold water and bring it to the center here.” He pointed to a group of pirates standing near the fire. “The four of you, help Lieutenant Briggs move the rations and supplies to the far end, away from—”

“We don’t take orders from you,” the fat pirate retorted. “I think we’ll manage just fine on our own.”

“You’ll do exactly as he says,” Anamaria said, appearing out of the darkness at the opposite side of the clearing. “Go.”

The pirate glared back at Anamaria but didn’t argue. He knew better than to cross her. He just grunted to his lanky companion and they both stormed off to comply with the Lieutenant’s order. Groves nodded to Briggs, and the other lieutenant followed the pirates.

Anamaria crossed the path and faced Groves. “It’s too big.” She stared towards the roaring blaze. “There’s hardly any use fighting it.”

“We can stop it from spreading.” Groves could feel the heat from the flames on his face, even from the distance. He glanced up at the flames jumping up above the top of the hut, coming dangerously close to the ones on either side. The fire wouldn’t spread across the ground, he thought, not through the sand. But it would be harder to keep it from spreading across the roofs. “We’ll need men on top of the huts,” he said. “We’ll douse the roofs with water and beat the fire back until it burns itself out.”

The pirates and sailors brought buckets and barrels to carry water from the sea up to the huts on either side of the blaze. They soaked the tops and sides of the huts and used thick blankets to beat the flames away. Some men tossed water into the burning hut, hoping to slow its progress. They dug a trench around the burning hut and filled it with water, then filled it again when the dry sandy ground drank the water they poured.

Groves wished he could help, but he didn’t trust his ankle to hold him. He knew he was most useful out of the way, directing the firefighting efforts. Sometimes Anamaria stood with him, and sometimes she ran into the chaos to sort out confusion or relay the lieutenant’s instructions.

The fire burned for hours until the hut collapsed in on itself. The men rushed to douse the pile of crumbling, burning wood with water. As the fire began to subside the men worked faster, seeing that their efforts were finally having some effect. Two of the pirates lifted their barrel of drinking water and dumped it onto the burning pile. A pair of marines took shovels and began beating the flames into submission. The fire still burned and smoldered, but it was finally under control, nearly tamed, and no longer in danger of consuming the entire village.

“It’s more like a big campfire now,” Anamaria said.

Groves coughed. His lungs ached from the smoke and his throat was raw from shouting over the chaos. The night sky was fading into a milder shade of black now, signalling that dawn was on its way. They had spent an entire night fighting the flames. Groves knew he’d be exhausted later, but for now he just felt immensely proud that they had done it, together, and relieved that the damage wasn’t worse.

“I’ll have my men keep watch on it for the rest of the day,” Groves said. His voice was hoarse and sore, but he didn’t care. “Yours can join, if they like. But we have to make sure it doesn’t start up again.”

“We’ll bring fresh water from the spring. I’m sure everyone’s thirsty.”

Chapter Text

James woke up in the main cabin with no sense of how much time had passed. After a moment he realized it was early morning. Pale light slipped into the cabin through a few small windows. He sat up on the cot and saw the cabin was empty. His shirt was missing, and so were the bandages. Instead, his wound was sewn shut with stiff thread that tugged at his skin. He was sore, and the stitches weren’t especially pleasant, but he was glad that the wound was closed and the bleeding had stopped.

The cabin door opened and Ruby stepped in. Sunlight streamed in through the door as she opened it, and she paused for a moment, blinking as she stepped into the dim cabin from the brightness of the morning. Her hair was tied back away from her face, but loose strands fell carelessly around her shoulders and danced in the morning breeze.

Ruby noticed him before he could look away. “Good morning,” she said, stepping inside and letting the door close behind her. “I have a fresh shirt for you, but first you should let me take another look at those stitches.” She crossed the cabin to retrieve a clean shirt, then joined him on the cot and quietly inspected her work for a long moment. “Is it painful?”

“Not unbearably.”

Ruby stood up and let James put the shirt on while she set a kettle over the fireplace. “I’ve got breakfast,” she said. “Tea and biscuits this morning.”

James pushed himself up off the cot and crossed the room to sit on the bench at the table. He watched Ruby for a moment, then rested his face his hands and rubbed his eyes.

Ruby brought a tray of biscuits and set it on the table. “You should eat,” she said. “You’ll feel better.”

James accepted a biscuit while Ruby went to check on the kettle. He ate in silence, enjoying the quiet and the still morning light that floated in through the wide cabin windows. The sea was calm, and James could barely hear the waves lapping against the side of the ship. Ruby was quiet too as she brought the kettle to the table and poured tea for herself and the Commodore. She took a biscuit for herself, then sat down on the opposite bench.

James sipped the tea. “Peppermint,” he said.

“Is that all right?”

“It’s just been ages since I’ve had it.”

Ruby smiled at him and sipped her tea. “Ages?”

James watched her for a moment, then glanced down into his own cup. “Not since I was a young man living in my father’s house,” he said. “It was Mrs. Westcott, the nurse, who made it for me whenever I was ill. My mother died so Mrs. Westcott stayed on to manage my father’s house long after I thought I was too old for a nurse.”

He paused, and glanced over at Ruby. She was watching him as he knew she would be. Her eyes urged him to continue, so he did. “I came down with a fever just days before I was supposed to take my officer’s exam. I was in bed for a week and the only tolerable part of it all was Mrs. Westcott’s peppermint tea. She was the best woman I ever knew.”

James stopped abruptly and stared down into his cup, avoiding Ruby’s gaze. He had no idea what had possessed him to share any details of his personal life with her, on this ship in the middle of the ocean, with no prompting except a cup of peppermint tea that had reminded him of the nurse he hadn’t thought about in years. Ruby didn’t reply, and James was grateful for that. They just sipped their tea in silence for a moment, not saying anything.

James set his cup down when it was empty. “Thank you for breakfast,” he said, standing. “The tea was excellent.”

The morning after the fire dawned grey, and a cool, damp breeze promised rain. A smoky haze hung over the island like fog. Doctor Talbot came by to inform the lieutenant that Mr. Morris had succumbed to his injuries. Groves just nodded and thanked the doctor. He had been expecting news of Morris’ death, so it was hardly a surprise. “The men might need to be treated for burns,” Groves said, changing the subject to a problem that could actually be helped.

Talbot left to go do what he could for the men who had suffered minor injuries in the fire. Groves watched the doctor work and wondered briefly how the fire had started. It could have been any number of ways. Perhaps the men started a small campfire, or maybe someone had left a pipe smoldering too close to the dry wood. It didn’t really matter, and Groves decided not to press the issue. It wouldn’t do any good if it started a fight between his crew and the pirates when the men became desperate to cast blame for the incident.

Groves sat on the bench outside the hut, watching the sun rise. For lack of anything better to do, he occupied himself by polishing his sword. He didn’t have anything proper to clean it with, but he found that the sleeve of his coat worked well enough to remove the bits of dirt and sand and saltwater that clung to it. When the sword was shiny again, he was almost startled to see Anamaria’s reflection in it.

He looked up and wondered how long she had been standing there, watching him. She held a cloth sack across one arm. Her other arm was wrapped in bandages that were nearly hidden by her sleeve.

“Your arm,” he said. “What happened?”

“Shark.”

Groves sighed. “The fire, then?”

“Your doctor insisted on wrapping it up.”

She spoke as if she had merely humored the doctor by letting him tend to the burns, but Groves could tell she appreciated the gesture, and thought she wasn’t entirely sure how to express her gratitude.

“We’ve brought fresh barrels of water,” Anamaria said, changing the subject. “I’m going back up the path to bring some fruit for breakfast. You’re welcome to come, if you think you can keep up.” She glanced at the crutches leaning against the hut. “Your men might like some fresh fruit, too, after last night. There’s plenty to go around.”

Groves stood up and decided to make do with one crutch so he could carry a satchel in the other. He followed Anamaria up the path to the outskirts of the village. “Don’t fall behind,” Anamaria said, leading the lieutenant into the forest.

“Fall behind?”

“Any man who falls behind is left behind,” she said. “Pirates’ code.”

Groves thought she was probably teasing, but he made sure to keep up as they moved into the wooded area. It wasn’t particularly thick with vegetation, but the vivid greens and enormous leaves made the wooded area seem denser than it was. Some of the plants were the flowering type, and pinks and yellows occasionally appeared in patches among the greens and browns.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Groves ventured, after a moment, “but I find it a bit surprising that pirates should abide by any sort of code.”

“And why shouldn’t we?”

“It’s always seemed to me that pirates weren’t very fond of following rules.”

“Just because yours are no good to us doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have our own,” Anamaria said, glancing back to meet his eyes. “You think any crew could survive without standards of conduct?”

“I suppose not. I just never thought of it like that.”

Anamaria moved a curtain of branches out of the way and ushered the lieutenant ahead. Beyond the thick branches Groves stepped into a small clearing, not more than ten meters wide in any direction, and a few empty crates sat around the edges of the clearing. In the center there were a few small plants growing.

“What’s this?” Groves asked. “It looks like a vegetable garden.”

“Just peas and carrots and potatoes,” Anamaria said. “And a few herbs. Someone’s got to make sure those idiots eat something other than stale bread and salted pork once in a while.”

Groves sat down on one of the crates and looked around a little more. Fruit trees and flowering bushes grew around the garden. He saw lemons, mangoes, and even an apple tree. It was a peaceful little spot. “This is a lovely place,” he said.

Anamaria sat down on the other crate, next to him. “Too bad we’ll have to leave it.”

“Leave? Why?”

She just looked at him for a moment and then he understood. Now that the Royal Navy had discovered the little campground, it was no longer a safe haven for the pirate crew. Groves knew the Commodore would likely show the pirates some leniency for the time being, in return for their hospitality and because his first priority was to get the crew of the Reverie home. But once they were back safely in Port Royal, they would naturally return to raid the campground and arrest every last pirate.

And then Groves remembered what Anamaria had said about Lord Beckett and his fortress at the back of the island, and the deal he had made with Jack Sparrow. Surely a man as infamous and powerful as Lord Beckett would have his shores under close watch. It was unlikely that an entire pirate crew could inhabit the same island without notice.

“Does Lord Beckett know you’re here?” Groves asked. He thought he probably already knew the answer, but he really hoped he didn’t.

Anamaria confirmed his suspicions with a glance. “Where do you think I got the seeds for the vegetables?”

Groves sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. He could hardly say for sure without more evidence and information, but it certainly sounded like Lord Beckett and the East India Trading Company were in the habit of doing business with pirates. It was likely Beckett was involved in unsavory business ventures, and he was using the pirate crew to do his dirty work. And in return, he let them live in peace on his island. No wonder the place was all but unknown.

Groves felt a small drop of water on his hand, and another on his face. He glanced up at the sky.

“We’d better hurry back,” Anamaria said, also glancing towards the sky. The canopy of trees overhead provided some shelter, but the rain was coming more steadily every moment.

Groves agreed, but he didn’t move. He glanced over at Anamaria sitting on the crate next to him and she met his eyes. Hers were deep and brown and guarded, but there was an innocence there that he had never noticed before. Suddenly she wasn’t a pirate. She was just another person, a sailor, like him.

Anamaria frowned. “What?”

Groves realized he’d been staring. “I just… I don’t believe I ever asked how I should properly address you.”

“It’s Anamaria,” she said. “Never been called anything else.” She started to stand up, but Groves caught her hand and gently pulled her back to the crate. “What are you doing?” she asked, sitting back down. Her eyes were wary but she didn’t pull away.

“I want to thank you, Anamaria.”

“What for?”

"You’ve been unreasonably kind, and I know we don’t deserve any of it.”

Anamaria’s face softened a bit as she accepted the thanks. “We couldn’t have stopped that fire without you,” she said, returning the favor. “I suppose we deserved for you to let this whole place burn.”

“No, of course not.” The response was automatic, but Groves realized that he meant it. “You didn’t deserve that at all.”

The rain was falling harder now. It rattled against the leaves overhead and the drops that slipped through soaked into Groves’ uniform coat. Damp spots appeared on Anamaria’s shirt as the raindrops landed on her shoulders and arms. Her hand was still in his and when he gently pulled her closer she didn’t resist.

Later, he didn’t remember making a conscious decision to kiss her. He remembered the kiss, though, in a memory as vivid as the green jungle plants around them. He remembered the rain and the breeze rustling the palm leaves over their heads, and he remembered that her warm hand in his was damp with raindrops. It was a forbidden kiss on an unnamed island where they were free of the expectations of the Royal Navy and the Pirates’ Code, but it was slow and deliberate. Later, Groves remembered most of all that he had kissed a pirate, and she had kissed him back.

Chapter Text

The island appeared on the horizon not long after the sun rose. The morning was grey and misty, and James knew rain was coming. After he left Ruby’s cabin he found Gillette standing at the railing, watching the island as the ship approached. The lieutenant’s face was tired and a little pale.

James joined him at the railing. “You don’t look well.”

“I don’t feel well. I think I’m coming down with a cold.” Gillette rubbed his eyes, then looked over at James. “You seem all right.”

“Yes, much improved this morning, thanks to Ruby.”

“Well that’s good, considering you left your life in the hands of an unsavory stranger with no formal medical training.”

James frowned. “Perhaps you’d feel better if you had some breakfast,” he suggested. “Ruby has tea and biscuits in the cabin.”

Gillette sighed. “God, I just want to get home.” He made his way across the deck towards Ruby’s cabin.

“Ah, Commodore!” Jack emerged from below the deck with an exaggerated grin on his face. “Back on your feet, I see. Lovely morning!” He paused and squinted up at the sky, screwing up his face and closing one eye. “Not for long, though.”

“Yes, I expect rain within the hour,” James replied.

Jack all but ignored him and moved towards the railing to look out at the approaching island. He licked his forefinger and held it up as if testing the wind, then reached into his belt as if reaching for an instrument. Finding nothing there, the pirate frowned. He turned around, patting his sides and waist. Finally he looked over at James. “Have you got a spyglass, by chance?”

“Must have misplaced it.”

“Ah,” the pirate said. “Right. In any case, it appears we’ve found the right beach. Beckett’s fortress will be just there. I’m sure you remember the place. We’ll just scurry up the little path, make the exchange, then you and your men will be on your merry way.”

James frowned. “Darius and I have reached an agreement. Once my crew is safe, you are free to negotiate your own arrangement.”

“If I’m not mistaken, Commodore, you and I also reached an agreement, one which requires your assistance in the rescue of my first mate in exchange for safe passage for you and the fine navy boys.” Jack stepped closer to the commodore as he spoke. “Therefore, in order for me to honor my half of our bargain, you will first have to hold up your end.”

“You are without a ship, Captain Sparrow, and have no means of making good on your promise.”

“For the time being,” Jack insisted. “And, if I may, that’s not entirely my fault. It was your new friend Darius who so abruptly interrupted our little plan.”

“Yes, after you led us to his home,” James said. “It’s not my fault you’ve chosen your associates poorly.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll just have to see what Darius thinks of all this. It is, after all, his ship, and as captain he is well within his rights to do with it as he pleases.”

“You’ll also have to convince him to return your map. Lord Beckett made it very clear that it would be unwise to return without it.”

“Believe it or not, I actually had thought of that,” Jack said. “You seem to think me a sort of careless, haphazard fellow, and I am here to tell you that could not be farther from the truth, as I already have a plan in the works which will secure the return of my map, ensure the release of my first mate, and see that you and the fine men of the King’s navy are returned to your proper home, or what have you.”

“And what plan is that?”

Jack grinned. “Watch this, mate. You might learn something.” He turned away from the commodore and glanced around the ship for a moment. “Darius!” Jack shouted. “Darius, mate, where are you? I’ve got something to—”

“What?” Darius appeared at the railing of the upper deck above them. He glared down at the pirate.

“Ah, Darius!” Jack declared, spreading his arms as if he’d encountered the other man by mere chance. “Come on down here, I’ve got a proposition for you.”

“You come up.”

“But I’m already down here.”

James grabbed the pirate’s arm and all but dragged him up the steps to the upper deck. Darius hadn’t moved from his spot by the railing. His arms were crossed and he glared impatiently at Jack. He still hadn’t forgiven the pirate for bringing the two officers to Tortuga.

“Darius, my good man, old friend,” Jack said, as if he’d come up the stairs of his own free will. “There’s just one small thing I’d like to clear up and I promise it won’t take more than a moment of your time. The Commodore here seems to think that the primary purpose of this little voyage has everything to do with himself and nothing at all to do with the rescue of Mr. Gibbs. Be a dear, would you, and set him straight? Seems he won’t listen to me.”

Darius glared at Jack. “The Commodore and I have an understanding. I don’t believe you or your first mate were part of it.”

“Fine, then,” Jack said. “If that’s the way you like it.”

Darius turned and started to walk away.

“But!” Jack continued.

Darius paused. His hands clenched at his sides for a moment before he turned around to face Jack again.

“If you have no interest in helping me rescue my first first mate, the least you could do is return my map seeing as it’s the very reason I’ve come all the way here in the first place and especially considering it’s already caused you such considerable trouble.”

“The only one causing me any trouble is you,” Darius said, stepping closer to Jack. “You, and him.” He nodded towards the Commodore.

“And if you’ll only give me back my map, I’ll never have need to trouble you again.”

“I very much doubt that.” Darius stepped past Jack, making a point to end the conversation and walk away. He paused at the top of the stairs and looked at James. "We'll reach that island within the hour."

Jack stepped up next to James as Darius walked away. "Well, go on, then," Jack said. "He's actually starting to like you. He may actually listen to reason if it comes from you."

"I am so close to being rid of you, Sparrow," James said, staring to follow Darius. "Why on earth would I ask the man to risk his life and mine to rescue your first mate?"

"Because," Jack said, circling in front of James to block his path, "you're not a fool. How do you think my men would react to the news that you've gone back on your word? I suppose you imagine they'll allow your crew to make a hasty and unencumbered exodus from our little safe haven."

James paused.

"You see? You and I are both better off if we're in this together."

The ship arrived at the beach that led to Lord Beckett's fortress, and James went ashore with Sparrow. He left Gillette on the ship partially to make sure Darius and Ruby didn’t abandon their promise to assist the crew, and partially because it had started to rain and Gillette was already feeling poorly. The rain was light but steady as James stepped out of the longboat on to the damp sand of Lord Beckett’s island. Jack started to comment on the weather but James silenced him with a glare. He just wanted the whole ordeal to be over and done with, so he could put the pirate and Lord Beckett and the island behind him.

They met the guards at the gate to the fortress and were escorted inside. Lord Beckett was seated at his desk when they arrived at his office, flanked by two guards, but he stood when they entered. His eyebrows raised in a rare expression of something other than disinterest. A cold, restrained eagerness leapt into the man’s eyes as he stepped around the desk to greet his guests. He met the Commodore’s eyes for a moment, then stopped in front of Jack.

“So,” he said. “Have you brought it?”

“Indeed I have.” Jack grinned and pulled the rolled-up map out of his coat. He held it out for a moment, but snatched it away as Lord Beckett started to reach for it. “Not so fast. I may be a pirate, but I’m certainly not stupid. You’ve seen your prize, now I’ll see Mr. Gibbs alive and well before you lay so much as a finger on this here map.”

“Ah.” Beckett said. “I suppose it’s only fair.” He nodded to one of the guards, who left to fetch the prisoner.

Beckett stood like a pale statue in front of his huge mahogany desk, perfectly at ease in his own office. It was small but spacious, with a plush carpet covering the stone floor. The furnishings were sparse, aside from the desk and a small table and set of chairs in the corner. The rain was falling harder now. It splashed against the window behind Lord Beckett. On their first visit to the fortress the Black Pearl had been visible from this vantage point, but now the rain and mist obscured the view of the ocean.

“Unfortunate weather,” Beckett commented, following the Commodore’s gaze. “You both look positively dreadful standing there, soaking wet.”

James didn’t respond. He thought that if Lord Beckett were at all a decent or generous man he would have offered them tea, or at least a warm place to sit. It was clear that Beckett was making a pointed effort to do neither.

The guard returned and brought Mr. Gibbs, in shackles, and shoved him roughly into the room. Gibbs stumbled and James instinctively caught him. Gibbs looked up into the Commodore’s face and frowned for a moment, obviously confused, then looked over at Jack. “Jack, what—”

“Ah, Gibbs!” Jack exclaimed, cutting off whatever his first mate had planned to say. “How I’ve missed you. I trust you had a pleasant stay.”

“No, I most certainly did not. Captain, I—”

“The map,” Beckett interrupted.

Jack handed the map over, and Beckett unrolled it and examined it. Satisfied, he nodded to the guard. Gibbs’ shackles were removed and he rubbed his wrists, frowning at Jack. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“All in good time,” Jack said, nervously.

Beckett deliberately rolled the map back up and walked back to his desk to place it neatly in the top drawer. “Arrest him,” he said, casually.

Before James could wonder what Lord Beckett could possibly gain from arresting Sparrow now after letting his first mate go free, he felt a rough hand on his arm and the cold barrel of a pistol at the back of his neck. He looked first to Beckett, and then over at Jack.

“You are unbelievable,” James said, glaring at the pirate and ignoring Sparrow’s genuine surprise.

“Don’t blame Jack,” Beckett said. His tone was even and emotionless. “He is innocent, so to speak.”

Jack looked from James to Beckett, and back. “I swear, I—”

“Jack and I have been doing business for quite some time now, and pirate or not, business is good,” Beckett continued, slowly stepping across the room to stand in front of James. “We really can’t have you running off to the Navy and uprooting this little outpost.” He smiled a mechanical, humorless smile. “No hard feelings, Commodore. It’s just good business.”

James held the man’s gaze for a long moment, then Beckett finally nodded to the guards and turned away. The guard started to lead James away, but he resisted for a moment to face Sparrow. In that moment he was sure he had never hated any man, pirate or not, more than he hated Jack Sparrow now. “I trust Darius will keep his word,” James said. “You can go to hell.”

Then the guard shoved the pistol deeper into the Commodore’s neck and shoved him out of Lord Beckett’s office. Over his shoulder James saw Lord Beckett standing idly at the window, staring out at the rain, and he got one last look at the shock on Jack’s face just before the tall wooden doors slammed shut.

Chapter Text

Below the fortress was what James might have described as a dungeon, if he were inclined towards melodrama. It was dark, and damp from the rain. There was a tiny window at the top of the wall across from the cell, flush with the ground outside. The cells were underground, and rainwater spilled into the prison from the window.

It was almost surreal, being locked in a cold, wet cell underneath Lord Beckett’s fortress. Something in the back of his mind held onto the hope that it would all blow over in the morning, and that Lord Beckett would realize this was all just a misunderstanding. He knew that was unlikely. Most likely he would be coerced into Lord Beckett’s service, or, slightly less likely, left in the cell and forgotten.

James sat in the back corner of the cell, staring at the stone floor. His side ached. He knew his anger was useless but he couldn’t push it out of his mind. He held onto the grim hope that Gillette would convince Darius to keep his promise to assist the crew.

He should have expected Sparrow to act like a pirate. But it was Lord Beckett’s betrayal that was senseless. Lord Beckett stood for the law, for order, for prosperity gained by honest trade, and yet he had sided with a pirate over one of the King’s officers. And it was the senselessness that was so maddening.

A single man in an old Company uniform halfheartedly guarded the cells, but he was soon joined by another man who brought supper. James was mildly surprised to receive a slice of bread and a cup of milk for himself before the guards sat down to eat.

James ate his supper and listened in on the guards. There wasn’t anything else to do, and he thought he might hear something he could use against Lord Beckett, but mostly the guards just talked about the rain.

“I knew it was going to rain,” the first said.

“Everyone knew,” the other replied. “You could practically smell it coming in the air last night.”

“Well I’m glad. Maybe we’ll finally get a cool breeze around here.”

“I think it’s starting to let up.”

It was. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and the drops that fell through the cell windows echoed as they splashed onto the damp stone. Without the constant downpour, the prison was quieter, and the guards’ voices carried through the hall.

“Something’s wrong with this wine,” the first man said. “I think it’s making me sick.”

“Now that you mention it, I think I feel sick too. Where’d you find this?”

“The kitchen, same as always.”

“Then we need to have a talk with the cook.”

James heard a chair pushed back as the man stood, presumably to go find the cook, then the sound of clumsy footsteps.

“Gregson? You all right?”

There was a thud like the sound of a body hitting the stone, and James frowned and looked towards the end of the hall, trying to see what was going on.

“Gregson?” the second man asked again, mumbling the word. James heard another incoherent mumble, then a crash and a thud as the other guard toppled to the floor.

James stood and pressed his head against the bars of his cell as he heard the door quickly open and close, then a flickering light appeared. Gibbs appeared at the end of the hallway, holding a lamp and a set of keys. He hurried to James’ cell and unlocked the door.

“Right this way, Commodore,” Gibbs said, making his way towards the opposite end of the hallway.

James nodded to acknowledge Gibbs, then stepped back towards the small armory at the base of the staircase to retrieve his sword and pistol.

“Not to be a pest, Commodore, but we haven’t got much time!” Gibbs spoke in a loud, nervous whisper.

James glanced towards Gibbs, then to the unconscious guards. If his assessment of the situation was correct, they had hours before the men regained consciousness, but he quickly collected his weapons and followed Gibbs to the end of the hallway, then out into the night. The pirate’s weak lantern light guided them through the jungle to the beach where a longboat waited for them. Through the darkness and dwindling rain, James could just barely see Lieutenant Groves sitting in the boat.

Groves stepped out of the boat. “You have no idea how relieved I am to see you.”

“I think I have some idea,” James replied.

Groves looked past James across the beach. “Where’s Jack?”

Gibbs was paused on the beach just a few paces ahead of the boat, facing back towards the beach and the jungle. “Who’s there?” Gibbs shouted into the darkness.

A figure appeared at the edge of the beach and James reached for his pistol, thinking they must have been spotted and pursued. He hesitated as he felt his fingers brush against the weapon, wondering if he was really prepared to use it against Lord Beckett and his men.

“Prepare the boat!” the figure shouted.

“It’s Jack,” Gibbs said. “Best get the boat ready.” He hurried back to the longboat and helped Groves push it out into the water. Groves climbed in and took the oars, and Gibbs jumped in next.

James followed the boat into the water, holding the edge steady and waiting as Jack rushed towards the water, waving his arms at the boat as if to shoo it out towards the ship. He splashed through the shallow waves and all but dove into the longboat.

“Were you followed?” James asked, also climbing into the boat as Gibbs picked up the oars and began to row away from the shore.

“Jack Sparrow,” a voice shouted from the beach. Lord Beckett stood in the sand, just at the edge of the water, dressed in a long black cloak and flanked by two armed agents.

Jack ducked below the edges of the boat.

James rolled his eyes. “He’s already seen you.”

“And you, Commodore,” Beckett called.

“Can hear us too, apparently,” Jack said, from his place at the bottom of the boat.

“Though,” Beckett continued, “I suppose your days as Commodore may be numbered now that I’ve caught you fleeing the custody of the East India Trading Company with a band of pirates. Acts of piracy are generally frowned upon by the Admiralty.”

 “And how do you describe what you’ve been doing on this island?”

James could barely make out Lord Beckett’s figure through the darkness, but he could hear the smirk in the man’s voice as he said, “Business, of course.”

“Then I intend to see to it that your little operation is put swiftly out of business,” James replied. “You’d best put your ledgers in order, Lord Beckett, because your number’s up.”

“I suggest you choose your allies more carefully, Commodore. I’m not a man who forgives and forgets those who defy me,” Beckett said. “Just ask Jack.”

“Bugger off!” Jack shouted, still hiding below the edge of the boat.

Beckett didn’t respond. And if he had, his words would have been lost in the light rain and dying wind between the longboat and the shore. The boat reached the ship quickly, and Darius and Lieutenant Briggs met them as they climbed aboard.

James winced as he felt the pain return to his side after running through the forest and climbing up the side of Darius’ ship. He braced himself against the railing and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Sir?” Briggs asked, watching him with a bit of concern.

“Raise the anchor and put that bloody island behind us,” James said. “Groves, give the helmsman our heading.”

“Already done, sir,” Groves replied.

Briggs left to relay the rest of the instructions and James pulled Groves aside for an update on the crew’s situation and the events on the island. Groves briefly informed him of the men who had died and offered a brief overview of the state of the crew and the rations. He hesitated before mentioning the hut that had burned, but then did his best to downplay the severity of the incident and emphasize that no one had been badly hurt. He was relieved and only mildly surprised when James barely reacted to the news of the fire.

Gibbs and Darius hauled the longboat up and soon James felt the anchor lift. He glanced around the deck and saw the pirates and his own crew mingling with Darius’ men, and he actually smiled to himself when he thought about how mismatched they all looked walking around the deck together.

James went over to Darius. “We should reach our destination by afternoon tomorrow,” he said. “And you have my word you’ll be compensated for your hospitality.”

James received a frown in return. He didn’t blame Darius for his disdain for the men who were practically intruders on his ship, but he did wish there was something he could say to improve the situation. But Darius just shook his head and disappeared into his cabin.

James turned his attention back to Groves. “Are you on watch tonight?”

“God, no.” Groves rubbed his eyes. “I haven’t slept in twenty-four hours and my head is killing me. I need to sleep.”

James nodded. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Groves left, and James went to the railing at the stern of the ship. He stared out towards the horizon, though he couldn’t see anything in the darkness. The rain had stopped but clouds still covered the sky, blocking the moon and stars from giving any light. He doubted Lord Beckett would pursue them, but still he stared towards the horizon he couldn’t see, half expecting sails to appear there.

Instead, Ruby appeared next to him. She approached quietly and deliberately, and James felt her presence at his side before he heard her footsteps. He turned to acknowledge her as she joined him at the railing.

“It’s good to have you back,” she said.

“Even though I was brought to this ship against my will, I do find it infinitely preferable to Lord Beckett’s fortress,” James replied. "And I believe thanks are in order, for your part in aiding my return."

Ruby smiled. "I hardly did anything," she said, and offered him a mango. “Lieutenant Groves found these on the island. They’re very good.”

James accepted the fruit and turned it over in his hands for a moment before looking back out at the horizon. He expected Ruby to leave, but she didn’t. She stayed at the railing, silently watching the water for a long moment.

Finally James looked back at her, and he could tell there was something else she was waiting to say.

Ruby hesitated. She met his eyes for a moment, then looked down at her hands as she spoke. “I overheard you talking with your lieutenant,” she said. “I know I probably shouldn’t have listened, but… I heard about the men that died, and I just…” She looked up at him again. “Well, I was really sorry to hear it.”

James nodded and looked out at the water again. “Casualties are not uncommon in situations like this one,” he said. “I’m sure you understand, as someone who practices medicine, that men die every day and there’s often nothing you can do about it. I find it’s more beneficial to focus my energy on those who are still alive.”

“I know,” Ruby said. “Believe me, I know. But that doesn’t make it all right, and I really am sorry those men are dead.”

James paused for a moment, thinking about her words and thinking of the faces and names of the men who had lost their lives. He looked down at the mango in his hands and nodded. “I’m sorry too.”

Chapter Text

Darius’ ship flew a white flag as they sailed into the port. It was probably an unnecessary precaution, as it was unlikely the ship would be taken for an enemy, but James insisted. The day had been quiet, and the afternoon pleasantly mild after the previous day’s rain. James sent Lieutenant Groves ashore to meet the local authorities while he watched from the deck. He would have gone himself, but thought it was best if someone in uniform made the first introductions.

“Well, this has wrapped up quite nicely, don’t you think?” Jack joined the Commodore at the railing, carrying a bottle of rum and looking incredibly pleased with himself. “All’s well that ends well, as I like to say. Wouldn’t you agree?”

James met the pirate’s eyes and frowned slightly. “I’ve been poisoned, incarcerated, made a deal with a pirate, escaped custody of a man who is likely committing some form of treason in the name of the Company, and I have no idea how the hell I’m going to explain any of that to anyone.”

“Maybe best to leave some of the details to speculation, eh?”

James looked back towards shore. Groves was speaking to a man in an officer’s uniform, and they were soon joined by two others. The sight of civilization was more of a relief than James had anticipated. He glanced over at Jack again. “In light of all that has happened, I hardly know whether to thank you or arrest you,” he said. “But I keep my promises. You are free to go.”

Jack grinned.

“This time.”

Jack’s face fell, but only slightly before he caught himself and shrugged off the Commodore’s threat. “Nothing wrong with a healthy bit of rivalry between us.”

Groves and two of the uniformed men began making their way back towards the ship. James watched them approach, and decided he should meet them when they arrived. He gave Jack one last look. “It’s probably best if you make yourself scarce,” he said.

Jack glanced over at the group of officers. “Right you are.” He moved briskly across the deck, gathering his crew and shooing them down below the main deck, out of sight.

James greeted the officers as they boarded the ship, and Groves introduced Captain Henderson. Henderson was a bit hesitant at first, but accommodating enough. He frowned slightly at the commodore’s attire but made no comment on the fact that James looked like the farthest thing from an officer of the King’s navy. Instead Henderson just offered his hospitality.

The men made their way ashore, bringing the sick and injured to the fort hospital and carrying the few supplies they had left. After a tense discussion with Henderson, James negotiated a loan of supplies to Darius for the ship and her crew to replenish what the sailors had needed. Henderson grudgingly complied and his men began bringing food and water for the ship. James sent his own men to help, as a gesture of good will.

Evening was approaching by the time the activity surrounding the ship had begun to slow down. Henderson went back to shore, and Groves was free for the first time all afternoon. He glanced across the deck and saw Anamaria standing against the railing at the stern, watching the activity from a distance. He crossed the ship to join her.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll be seen?” Groves said. “Jack made a deal with Norrington, but Henderson’s an authority too and he’s not likely to make any allowances for known pirates.”

“They won’t recognize me,” Anamaria said. “You think I’m fool enough to get my face on a wanted poster?”

“I suppose not.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were concerned for me,” she said, taunting him slightly with a smirk. “That’s not a good position to be in, Lieutenant. You’re one of the King’s men.”

“By no means,” Groves said. “But if Henderson did recognize one of you, he’d be forced to arrest you and since we’ve clearly been traveling together, I’d likely be questioned. It would take hours, if not days, for the inquisition, and after the week I’ve had I just don’t think I’m up for all that.”

“I see.” She met his eyes for moment, then glanced past him to the deck that was nearly empty of anyone in a uniform. The commodore remained, speaking with Darius, while several pairs of marines hauled the last of the supplies on board. “Seems we’ll be casting off soon,” Anamaria said. “You should get back to land unless you want to find yourself part of a pirate crew.”

“Yes,” he said. “I’d best be off.” But he hesitated, making no move to leave. “Thank you for your assistance last night. I know it goes against your code to risk the whole crew for one man who fell behind.”

“I’ve never known Jack to pass up an opportunity to get the best of Cutler Beckett,” she replied. “Besides,” she added, a small smile creeping into her eyes, “the code is really more like guidelines.”

Groves returned the smile. “Give my regards to your captain.” He hesitated a moment longer, not sure what else to do or say, but then decided it was best to just leave it at that. He started to turn away.

“Lieutenant,” Anamaria said, calling his attention back for a moment. “I hope you get your promotion.”

Groves held her gaze, one last time. “And I hope you get your ship.”

James finished speaking with Darius, assuring him that all the rations had been replenished and then some. He thanked the man again for his assistance and received only a grunt in reply. Then Darius disappeared into his cabin, leaving James and Groves all but alone on the deck.

James leaned back against the railing and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was tired, and anxious to be off the ship. He looked up when Groves joined him. “I don’t know about you,” James said, “but I need a drink.”

“Good God, yes.”

James looked across the deck and saw Ruby speaking with her father while their sailors carried the last crates of supplies down to the ship’s cargo hold. The pirates had made themselves scarce. Even Jack Sparrow was nowhere to be seen—or heard. The afternoon light was beginning to weaken into evening, and the activity around the docks was quieting down. Darius and Ruby finished their conversation, and Darius followed his sailors down below the deck. Ruby remained where she was, and James met her eyes for a moment.

Groves noticed the glance. “I’ll see if Henderson can point us in the direction of a pub,” he said, pushing himself off the railing.

James nodded and crossed the deck to meet Ruby as the lieutenant left them alone.

“I was starting to think you were going to leave without saying good-bye,” Ruby said.

“Of course not,” James said, though that had been exactly his intention until he saw Ruby across the deck. “I owe you one last word of gratitude not only for the part you played in my escape and the rescue of myself and my crew, but also, and perhaps more importantly, for your hospitality and care. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the kind, resourceful physician who helped me when I was out of options.”

Ruby smiled. “Yes, remember me like that. Just forget the fact that I also poisoned you.”

James glanced down at the deck and smiled in return, then looked back up at Ruby. “Consider it forgotten.”

“Though, I should tell you that I may have exaggerated a bit when I called myself a physician.”

“I suppose ‘nurse’ would be a more appropriate title for a woman.”

The edges of Ruby’s mouth twitched upwards into a playful smile. “I’m a midwife.”

James held her gaze for a moment, then looked over to the shore where Groves was standing with Captain Henderson, presumably waiting for the commodore to join him for a meal. James raised his hand to let Groves know he was on his way, then turned back to Ruby. “A midwife,” he repeated. “I think that suits you perfectly.” He took her hand and kissed it. “Thank you, Ruby,” he said. “All the best to your father.”

“Good bye, Commodore,” Ruby said.

James walked down the plank to join his lieutenant on the shore, putting Ruby, the ship, and the entire ordeal behind him.