Marooned, 24
In Which Norrington Makes Some Observations
by
Gloria Mundi
See Chapter 1 for full headers
Originally Posted: 1/24/05
"You have to hand it to him, sir," said Bailey. "How many of us could've come through ... through that, unscathed?"
His gesture took in the arc of horizon behind them, below which had sunk Sparrow Island: so Sparrow had insisted it be named, and Norrington, smiling, had seen no reason to disagree.
"It remains to be seen," he said to Bailey now, as the two of them stood by the helm, ostensibly conferring about the rig but actually keeping an eye on their flamboyant guest, "whether Mr Sparrow has come through it unscathed, or not."
Bailey frowned. He was a level-headed chap, and as good a shot with a musket as any man Norrington had ever met, but it was plain that Sparrow perplexed him.
"Look at him," he said now. "Parading around the deck as though he owns it, all prettied up like ... well, you know."
Norrington did know. When he'd focussed his glass on Jack Sparrow as the pirate waited on the beach, all weathered and windswept and utterly unkempt, it had been as though he were seeing the man for the first time. Perhaps it was simply that, with two hundred yards of lively waves between them, he'd been out of range of Sparrow's peculiar charm. He'd seen that Jack Sparrow, for all his gilding and blacking and affected ways, was a man his own age or older, whose gaze was fixed on Norrington himself—though without an eyeglass, he'd little hope of distinguishing more than a silhouette against the sky—and who held the stump of a knife in a way that spoke of readiness to use it, if need be, against anyone who threatened him. A man who had not survived this long without having, under all the frippery, a heart of courage and strength and determination.
On deck, trimmed and tidied (or carefully untidied, thought Norrington with amusement), in clothes that were too big for him—he'd never been a large man, and his long marooning had refined him to skin and muscle and bone—and whorishly blackened eyes, he looked younger, at once more innocent and more dangerous. Norrington doubted that Jack Sparrow had ever been truly innocent; for a moment he was tempted to have Bailey shadow the man, and prevent him from corrupting the Ariel's crew with his fables and fantasies.
But watching Jack Sparrow was peculiarly fascinating. Norrington was particularly intrigued by the way that Sparrow hung back from any group of men, though he would greet them readily enough if they spoke first. And when he was drawn into their circle, Norrington saw, he was careful to have the rail at his back, so that no one might come up behind him.
"I'll lay he has some stories to tell!" said Bailey, his admiration plain.
"I'm sure of it," said Norrington dryly, wishing he could make out Sparrow's words. His hands spoke eloquently enough of some tremendous battle, and that was a story Norrington wanted to hear: but he'd rather hear it in private, without an audience to inspire Sparrow to unwarranted inventions. He wanted Sparrow (Norrington suppressed a chuckle at the thought) to be honest with him: he wanted Sparrow to speak to him one to one, captain to captain, man to man.
The Ariel was sailing into a golden sunset. Norrington glanced up at the masthead—wind in the north-east, and unlikely to change before morning—and nodded to himself.
"Is your cabin cleared for our guest?" he asked Bailey, and Bailey tore his eyes from the knot of men gathered around Jack Sparrow, nodding.
"We'll have some music, tonight," Norrington announced, smiling. "And an extra half-ration of rum, to welcome Jack Sparrow back to civilisation. Tell the duty officer to make it so."
"Very good, sir," said Bailey, with a salute. Norrington nodded approvingly. He tried not to come all Navy with the men, true enough, but proper respect was another matter.
Left alone once more at the helm, Norrington's gaze turned once more to the former pirate, now quite at ease—or so it seemed—amid his eager audience. His words drifted to Norrington amid the creak and rush of the ship's passage: something about mermaids, and scales, and not rubbing them the wrong way.
Norrington grinned. Time enough when the sun was down to see how well Jack Sparrow wore his welcome.
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Chapter 25