"The rocks! Sir, it's a miracle she missed them!"

Easy, far too easy. Almost pathetic, that the object of his affection would fall for it so utterly. As if there was a real chance a thinking man could not make a jump that an unconscious girl had survived. Until now, that was.

His plan was flawless. Norrington, in a simpering and truly pitiful display, had told Gillette how he would propose to Elizabeth, already nervously stuttering with a ridiculous smile on his face.

The moment Norrington had asked his advice, Gillette had seen his chance. The parapet had been his idea. Yes, Sir, I think it should be quite romantic to ask her at the ceremony, but you will need to find some privacy. Strange that Norrington would not know that the woman he foolishly thought to love would be appalled rather than charmed by the naval pomp. Fool; love had made him blind, not like Gillette himself, whose searing, undying love for Norrington only made him see more clearly, made him grasp this unique chance.

Silver words had bought the maid's agreement to tie the corset too tightly, all in the best interest, of course. Certainly, young Miss Swann would want to look her best on the day of her proposal, no?

Now, now her fine dress would drag her to the ocean ground; out of the Commodore's sight, and, eventually out of his heart. Once that infestation was purged, he would be free, free to see Gillette's undying, adoring loyalty; would see what was the best for him.

Once the bitch was dead. He had stopped Norrington from jumping after her, the ocean would do the rest. And finally, he would get the reward. Norrington would see that Andrew Gillette was better.

Damn Sparrow.