Marooned, 10

In Which Norrington Stays On Board

by

Gloria Mundi

"I like it better here," said Anamaria, as though he'd accused her of laziness.

"I always prefer ... preferred ... to stay aboard myself," said Norrington, folding his hands behind his back and looking out over the water towards the quayside taverns. He'd hoped, aloud, that they would be sailing directly to Georgetown, but Anamaria had insisted that she had business in Tortuga. Norrington eyed the infamous pirate haven with distaste. Neither the Spanish nor the French had been at all successful at clearing it out.

"You don't want a drink and a girl, Mr Norrington?"

"Not especially," said Norrington brusquely, finding her bluntness quite distasteful. Then, aware that he'd been rude, he proffered a smile. "I suppose I fell out of the habit of sharing my shore leave with the common sailors."

He'd annoyed her. "No different to you, are they?" she snapped.

"Madame," said Norrington after a moment's thought, "if you are trying to provoke me then you've succeeded: I implore you to be merciful. If I've mistaken—"

But Anamaria was laughing. "No mistake, Captain," she said, and he realised with a start that she had left off goading him with his lack of rank. "But let's cry peace, at least for tonight."

"Very well," said Norrington, stumbling slightly as he turned to shake her outstretched hand. "Pax."

Anamaria gave him another suspicious look—damn, the woman probably had no idea of Latin, or proper form, or anything—but she clasped his hand as firmly as any man, and her smile was luminous in the dusk.

"I suppose Jack Sparrow always went ashore with his crew," Norrington said idly, once they were settled on the quarterdeck of the Maiden's Venture with a tankard of rum apiece.

"Why d'you say that?"

"He never seemed the sort to stand on ceremony," said Norrington. "Or to say no to—how'd you put it?—a drink and a girl."

"You reckon?" said Anamaria, gulping rum. "That's what he wanted everyone to think, sure. Sneaky wicked man, was Jack. You don't know the story? How I came to be crewing for him, when he got the Pearl back?"

"There seem to be rather a lot of stories about Mr Sparrow," observed Norrington.

"True enough," said Anamaria. "He stole my boat."

Norrington glanced across. Her expression was more snarl than smile.

"I didn't hear that one," he said, feeling like Pandora opening her box of woes.

"I had some nice business going," said Anamaria, each word smoother-edged than the last. "A little bit of fishing here, a little rum-running there—begging your pardon—a little bit of carrying things where they wanted to be. Then 'long comes Jack, pretty rogue that he was with his beads and baubles and fancy words, all ..."

She poked her finger into the corner of her eye, fiercely.

"Well, you can guess the rest of that story. Old as the hills, ain't it?"

Norrington could guess it all too well. "I'm sorry," he said. "Was it ..."

But even though she was a pirate, and a coloured woman, he could not bring himself to ask about such intimate matters.

"Couple of weeks," said Anamaria, rather more huskily than before. She poured herself more rum, and did not offer the bottle to Norrington. "Long enough for me to think he was for real."

"And he sailed off in your boat," said Norrington. "How did—"

"Right in the middle of the stormy weather, too!" said Anamaria furiously. "Like he couldn't stand to stay even jus' till the storms were past. An' he knew that weather, in those waters: none better. I'd not have taken her out in that sea, so he knew I wouldn't be after him any time soon, even if I'd found another boat to take. Fool's luck." She leaned forward and spat.

"What happened to her?"

"Bottom of Port Royal harbour, he told me," said Anamaria bleakly, staring straight ahead at the lights of the town.

"She's in good company down there," said Norrington. "After the Black Pearl came through, and the French."

"Well, the Pearl won't be sending any more to the depths," said Anamaria. The tear on her face caught the last of the light, and Norrington wanted to wipe it away, but he could easily imagine her reaction: and her voice was as fierce as ever.

And besides, the meaning of her words had penetrated the rum and the fatigue and a light haze of lust that had something to do with the thought of Jack Sparrow embracing the woman beside him.

"The Black Pearl's ..." he began. "Anamaria, has something—has the Black Pearl been captured?"

Anamaria stared at him. It was too dark to read anything in her eyes. "You didn't know," she said at last. "You never heard."

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