Chapter Text
𝑾𝒂𝒔 𝒅𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒕, 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒔
𝑾𝒂𝒔 𝒅𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒕, 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒊
𝑾𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒉𝒓𝒉𝒂𝒇𝒕 𝒅𝒆𝒊𝒏 𝒊𝒔𝒕, 𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒊𝒃𝒕 𝒅𝒊𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒖
𝘚𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰, 𝘞𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘣𝘴𝘵
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Port Royal, late Summer 1748
The Moon hung high above the sleeping pier of Port Royal, hiding behind dark grey clouds that themselves appeared invisible unless reflecting the silver tails of light stemming from the satellite. The air smelled of the sea, fresh paint and wafts promising of dinner the far away taverns up Mainstreet were no doubt still serving. Captain James Norrington was on patrol through the harbour. It was the day before his public promotion to the rank of Commodore and when James had tried earlier to lay at rest in preparation for the occasion, his mind had once again not granted him the reprieve. And so, he had accepted his fate and set out to make himself useful, returning to the fort after sundown and taking over the next patrol rotation.
The man was deep in thought, walking along the cobbled street with nothing but the cicadas to keep him company. His arms clasped behind his back and head held high, he inspected the harbour as he walked along the promenade.
Tomorrow, he was to receive his official commission as a Commodore in his Majesty’s Royal Navy, a post he had long worked towards. First at the behest of his father, later driven by his own drive to rise through the ranks. The thought of his father prompted conflicting thoughts to surface, many of which the sailor had long since learned to suppress. He had not expected his father to be present at the ceremony, but he had not even received a letter commenting on the matter. It was not really something James was not already used to. Excellence, his father always said, was the expectation, anything but that would not be sufficient.
Clenching his fists behind his back and forcing his thoughts away from its useless inquiry, his gaze landed on the pier in front of him. Whereas most other landings had various vessels silently moored at their sides, resting and floating along the black waves beneath, this one led to a three masted rig, alight with lanterns and sound coming from inside the hull. The soon-to-be Commodore felt himself grow suspicious at the sight, as all work around the pier had long been abandoned and most folk had by now headed either to bed or on to other establishments. Poised straight, he approached the gangplank, looking around to see if there was anyone on deck outside. After his calls remained unanswered, he made aboard to investigate further, following the sounds of multiple voices from under the forecastle.
The lanterns cast a warm glow out the portholes, fanning onto the deck planks below like licks of flame, beckoning with their warmth. Norrington approached carefully, not sure what to expect. It certainly wasn’t the sound of song and dance floating through the cabin door. He tried to knock but it was once again left unanswered. When next he slid open the door to inspect the inside, he was instantly surrounded by a sweltering, but lively atmosphere of burning cheeks and age-old laughter, the sounds of clinking glass bottles accompanied by a fiddle carrying the melody of a ballad between voices in various stages of drunkenness singing along. Inside, the air was even warmer, humid and full of smoke, spilled ale and sweat, but the occupants did not appear bothered- after weeks at sea, even the best-groomed crew would begin to exhibit smells and appearances not usually representative of any of His Majesty’s troops.
The spectacle made him stop in the door, letting his gaze wander around the room, past figures hunched over benches and stools and toward a person in the middle of the room, fingers dancing gracefully over the neck of a fiddle, the bow rapidly wandering across the strings to the tune of Leaver Her Johnny Leave Her, boots tapping along with the beats.
Of average height, the man in the centre of the crowd was swaying along, clad in cream breeches and a maroon waistcoat, his content smile shining amidst dark strands that had escaped from his queue to frame his face. There was a levity to his dance, a stark contrast to the heavy, sluggish movements of the crew all around. For a moment, it was almost as if James had forgotten the reason he had entered the cabin in the first place, as the relaxed atmosphere of the crew lulled him into a familiar sense of reminisce for his own days at sea. It had been quite a while since his evenings at sea had been as lively as this, as once one became an officer, it was considered unseemly to mix with the simple seamen come evening. Such structures didn’t seem to apply to these folk though, because as soon as the last words had reached his ears, the man lowered his fiddle and approached a nearby table with a teasing, albeit slightly fatigued expression.
“Alright boys, give me a break would ya.”, he said, let himself fall onto the bench next to one of the crew and snatched the man’s cup with a mischievous smile on his lips. “There you go, you’ve had more than enough of that my friend. I think I’ve earned the rest for myself, eh.” As he lifted the cup to his lips, his gaze idly shifted along the rows of benches, inspecting the rest of the crew with amusement before eventually landing on the door and the person still standing in it. Said man could feel eyes wandering over his uniform and he stood up incrementally straighter at the sensation.
A look of recognition crossed the curious man’s face then, his eyes widening slightly in the dim, warm light. He put the now empty cup down and stood from his seat. Weaving gracefully through the small, animated crowd, he approached the door and its occupant. “Good evening Captain. What can I do for you?”, he said politey, nodding his head in greeting.
“Good evening, who exactly is in charge of this crew?” Norrington had gotten curious who could still have reason to be at the harbour at this time of night. The reasons he could conjure were in no way lawful. His gaze wandered through the room, cataloguing and searching for any indications of things amiss. “That would be me”, the man remembered his manners, “Captain John Hewett, at your service.” James looked back to the man- to his surprise, a slight bow completed the introduction.
“Just as well Captain Hewett. I was patrolling the pier when I came about this cacophony. Pray, what has you still on this ship at this hour?” The scepticism in the captain’s inquiry was obvious, though the genteel address of the person in front of him, combined with their manners and looks spoke of an upstanding gentleman. The man in question, Hewett, didn’t seem too concerned with the question. “Paperwork Im afraid, sir. The harbourmaster had already been halfway on the way home when we arrived, so he told us to stay put until the morrow when he could proof our papers. My crew and I are merely baiting our time till we walk proper land again.”, he explained with a shrug. Almost as an afterthought he inquired, “We have not been disturbing anyone, have we?”
“Not at all.”, Norrington offered right away. The harbourmaster’s neglect of his duties had him in a slightly sour mood. That the processes in the harbour went seamlessly was soon to be, in part, his responsibility after all, and he had already been hearing whispers that the master at hand was more a man of coin than of duty. As for the men aboard the vessel, he knew from his own experience that they must surely want nothing more than to anker properly and to continue to a nice tavern. “Please accept my apologies Captain, we do not usually make a habit of confining people to their ships without ample cause. So, seeing as your presence at this time is not something you had much of a hand in, it shall not be an issue.” The elegant bow of Captain Hewett had Norrington curious. “What, if you do not mind, is your business in Port Royal, Captain?” Had he originally assumed this to be a merchant’s vessel, the surprisingly eloquent man in front of him made a much more refined impression.
“That would be travel, sir, for the purpose of private enterprise. My employer, the Admiral Norris, has sent his proxy to the colonies to attend to business in his stead.” Norrington raised an eyebrow at that. Admiral John Norris was a fixture of the admiralty and a veteran of campaigns against both the Spaniards and the Swedes. “I see, well then there should not be any further problems with your papers come morning.” He was about to declare the matter as resolved and to return to his patrol when Hewett offered with a small smirk, “I shall hope so, thank you Captain, you are welcome to join our..festivities, of course. I heard talk that there is to be a promotion tomorrow? The entire harbour was lively with preparations earlier, I’m sure such would be ample occasion for a glass or two of grog, would it not?”
When there was an especially raucous laugh to be heard from the crowd behind, he threw a teasing call over his shoulder and added. ”I do wish there’d be still some ale left to return to though.” The crew’s howling responses echoed many throughout the deck, a few slightly slurred “Aye Cap’n”’s far in between before returning to their heated conversations. Norrington had to admit the exchange was thoroughly amusing- Captain Hewett seemed to be close with his crew, their banter clearly lighthearted and in good fun. It was a rare sight among officers of the Navy, so that this gentleman seemed to be in possession of his people’s respect stood out to James. Although he had to politely decline the offer, he could imagine some of his men would have thoroughly enjoyed themselves in this merriment. “Indeed, the town has been preparing most ardently for the promotion festivities. As for myself I have tasks to attend to in the morning as well, so while I am grateful for the invitation, I won’t keep you from your men any longer.” The coat tails of his captains’ uniform billowed at the slight bow James indicated the young man in front of him. “Yes of course, forgive me Captain, far be it from me to keep you from your duties.” The man returned the gesture before James turned down the deck to continue with his patrol.
From behind him he heard the raucous swell once more as Hewett no doubt picked up the fiddle again. There were calls requesting different songs almost immediately, men shouting over each other in their drunken excitement and the distinct voice of the captain admonishing his men to lower their volume before saying something unintelligible that once more caused laughter to flow from the room.
On his way down the gangplank, he heard the music pick back up again, the fiddle playing yet another broadside, a few particularly inebriated voices howling the first verses to The Mermaid loud enough to be barely recognisable as coherent speech. The small, amused tug at the ends of his lips did not last long as a sweltering breeze rushing over the still quiet water reminded him of his duties, both present and future.
The rest of his patrol through the piers would be relatively peaceful however, save a stray sailor and his woman for the night hiding behind the odd crates and carts, attempting to sneak away. His presence alone, still full of authority even at this late hour, often was enough to remind whoever was causing trouble of their manners- as was with this pair, who were quick to slur an apology and rush away, giggling and stumbling through the streets of the harbour district, clearly too far gone to be dismayed at their getting discovered. With a deep sigh, James finished his rounds to later be relieved by the next watchman.