Work Text:
What Shall We Do with the Admiral?
“Hang him! String him from the yardarm!”
“Throw him to the rats!”
“Two balls straight through the heart!”
“Into a sack, and the sack into the lake!”
“What in hell are you babbling about? There’s no lake here...”
“Then into the bay! Toss him overboard with a cannonball tied to his leg, har har!”
“Slit his throat! Slit his throat!”
A rusty cutlass, looking dull enough to hack through rope rather than flesh, drifted dangerously close to James Norrington’s neck.
The deck of the junk was swarming with enraged pirates, though when the Empress had first docked at Shipwreck Cove, the quay had seemed deserted. Unfortunately, a dark blue admiral’s coat trimmed with gold was somewhat conspicuous — especially in this godforsaken outlaw haven. James might as well have been waving a bloody banner above his head.
Some pirate aboard the brig moored beside the Empress had spotted him first. The man’s eyes bulged so wide he nearly tumbled from the shrouds into the water before recovering enough to call his companions. They, in turn, called for theirs.
In the blink of an eye, hell broke loose upon the deck.
The admiral scarcely had time to react or defend himself. Had he been alone, he would likely have drawn his rapier and died swiftly in glorious combat against overwhelming odds. But Elizabeth was with him, and he would not risk harm coming to her.
He had fully intended to remain aboard the Flying Dutchman, knowing well he would probably never leave it alive. When the moment of farewell came, he understood that though his fate and Elizabeth’s had crossed time and again, they had never truly been meant to unite.
Still, he had been prepared to sacrifice himself.
For her.
Elizabeth had sensed what he intended and stubbornly declared she would not leave the cursed ship without him. There had been no time to argue, especially once the Dutchman’s crew noticed the prisoners escaping. So he followed her, though he knew perfectly well what awaited him in Pirate Cove. Naval officers were not welcomed there with open arms — rather with a noose in one hand and a loaded pistol in the other.
And Elizabeth, naïvely enough, believed she could protect him.
She had suggested he hide below deck. James had declined politely, and rather coldly. He had no intention of skulking in corners like a rat.
Perhaps he should have considered the suggestion after all.
Too late now.
Straight-backed and unflinching, Norrington watched the pirate mob surge toward him like a falcon set upon by a flock of crows. There was only one thing left for him to do — he stepped forward, shielding Elizabeth with his own body.
Cruel hands reached for him at once, eager repayment for every wrong suffered at the hands of British naval officers and the East India Trading Company. They dragged him into a boiling whirl of furious faces bristling with cutlasses, knives, and pistols.
James was as helpless as a ship thrown against the rocks.
Several brutes held him fast while others waved weapons in his face, hurling curses. Elizabeth’s protests achieved nothing. She was shoved aside. No one would heed a woman — not even a pirate captain.
Her new crew certainly had no intention of supporting her; they still did not trust her. They merely stepped back and watched in silence. The admiral had saved their lives, but apparently the Pirate Code said nothing about repaying former enemies.
Instead of an honorable death defending the woman he loved, James Norrington would most likely be torn to pieces by pirates.
A fitting end to a brilliant career.
“Hang him!”
“Feed him to the rats!”
“Overboard!”
“Bullet through the heart!”
“Slit his throat!”
At the precise moment the pirates finally reached something resembling consensus and had begun fashioning a neat little noose for the admiral — deciding it best to settle matters quickly and efficiently — someone else joined the gathering.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen! And ladies! Calm yourselves, please!”
A voice James had hoped never to hear again somehow cut through the uproar.
He clenched his teeth at the sight of Jack Sparrow weaving drunkenly through the crowd with the shambling grace of a sailor three bottles deep into rum. Curiously enough, the pirates parted for him.
Could it be they truly respected him after all?
Sparrow stopped before Norrington and asked with apparent surprise:
“Now then — what are you doing with my former crewman?”
The pirates clinging to Norrington’s arms glanced suspiciously at Sparrow.
“Your crewman? But that’s—”
“Yes, yes,” Sparrow interrupted impatiently, “the admiral, commodore, James-thrice-damned Norrington, terror of pirates everywhere, may worms eat his ship, and so on and so forth.”
He waved a dismissive hand.
“But dear Mr. Norrington also enjoyed a splendid pirate episode aboard my Black Pearl — something he neglects to mention out of natural modesty.”
He nudged Norrington companionably, as though the admiral were his longtime drinking mate.
“You’re wondering what ought to be done with the admiral?” Sparrow addressed the crowd with a broad grin flashing gold teeth.
“Bloody hell, nobody asked you, Jack!” someone shouted from the back, though the others listened nonetheless.
“Let the admiral go, lads. You’ll wrinkle his lovely uniform,” Sparrow suggested kindly.
The pirates loosened their grip and stepped back slightly, though they still surrounded James in a tight circle.
Sparrow moved closer and winked at Elizabeth. Still smiling broadly, he slung an arm around Norrington’s shoulders in friendly fashion.
James nearly recoiled.
It felt rather like being crawled over by enormous black spiders.
But he noticed Sparrow’s body now shielded him from the naked cutlasses, knives, and pistols.
Norrington could not fathom why the pirate had chosen to defend him.
What could Sparrow possibly gain from it?
“Now then, my dear friends,” Sparrow began, “I propose we let him go free—”
Cries of outrage and disbelief nearly drowned the rest.
“—and politely invite him to join our esteemed company.”
“You’ve gone mad!”
“Lost your bloody mind!”
“But Jack! Jack! I count any day wasted if nobody gets their throat slit!” wailed an elderly pirate in a red headscarf dangling from the rigging.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen, peace! Let us consider what makes more sense,” Sparrow said, pretending to think aloud. “Hanging the admiral, or making use of his extensive knowledge? He certainly knows all about Beckett’s fleet positions, don’t you, James?”
He glanced sideways at the admiral while hissing softly through his teeth — a clear enough signal that if Norrington intended to say anything useful on his own behalf, now would be the time.
Norrington’s jaw shifted firmly into storm position.
No words of agreement would pass his lips.
He would not beg for mercy.
Not before this ragged pack of savages.
Suddenly Elizabeth pushed through the crowd and took position at his other side. Just as Sparrow had, she shielded him from the other pirates.
“Admiral Norrington saved me and my crew when we were captured by the Flying Dutchman,” she declared loudly. “And he wishes to join us. The Pirate Code demands debts be repaid—”
“Not to the likes of him!” shouted the pirate in the red scarf again.
“The enemy of our enemy is our friend!” Sparrow yelled back over the commotion.
Arguments and shouting erupted once more, though like a sudden squall they had already begun to lose force. Sparrow and Elizabeth remained beside James like two rocks amidst the storm.
At last someone sensibly pointed out they could always hang him later, and that what Sparrow proposed was not entirely foolish. Someone else remarked that the captains’ council was waiting.
To Norrington’s astonishment, the chaos ended almost as suddenly as it had begun.
The pirates lowered their weapons and, after throwing the admiral a few final hostile glances, began dispersing. The deck of the Empress quickly emptied until only her crew remained.
And, of course, Jack Sparrow.
“Thank you, Jack,” Elizabeth said, touching his arm.
“Think nothing of it,” Sparrow replied with a small bow and a grin.
“No need to thank me, James,” he added, turning toward the admiral.
“I had no intention of doing so,” Norrington answered stiffly. “And to you, it is Norrington.”
Sparrow smiled indulgently.
James felt an overwhelming urge to throttle him, especially now that he realized he owed the pirate a tremendous debt.
“Well then, Mr. Norrington,” Sparrow said, narrowing his eyes as he studied him — looking more than ever like an immensely self-satisfied tomcat, “allow me to offer a bit of advice. Best rid yourself of that ridiculous uniform, because next time I cannot guarantee my personal charm will save your life.”
He paused thoughtfully.
“We’ll find you something more suitable to wear…”
Another brief hesitation.
“Though you may keep the hat. It’s rather nice.”