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Title: What a Man Can't Do What a Man Can't Do * * * Part I - Take What You Can "Man
overboard!" The shout was followed
shortly by a splash as a man dove in after the unfortunate boy who had lost his
grip while climbing the rigging. Captain
Jack Sparrow flew up the companionway from his cabin, shouting orders as fast
as he could. Within moments, the ship
was hove-to and a boat was lowered. The
dripping man and boy were safely back aboard and the ship under way again in no
time. The boy was whisked below by many
worried hands, while the man stood defiantly, daring any to say a word to him. "Norrington, in my cabin, now." Jack
Sparrow gave the order and the wet man followed him silently. "Just
what are you playin' at, Commodore?" Sparrow asked, rummaging through his trunks
until he found a set of relatively clean and dry clothing. He tossed the shirt and breeches to the other
man who caught them and turned his back, beginning to strip himself of the wet
garments. "I
don't play, Sparrow. I was saving the
boy's life." "But
he's a pirate. Why save a pirate when
you will most likely have to hang him later anyway?" "He is
a child. He deserves a chance." "Ah, so
you have a heart, after all, Mr. Stone-Faced Commodore," Sparrow said as
he approached the wet man with a towel. Gently,
he began to dry the other man's back. He
looked closer and stiffened slightly as he ran his hand over the rigid lines of
the scars he found there. Marks like
these were rarely found on any officer, and were completely unexpected on the
aristocratic Commodore. "That's
interesting. You've made the
acquaintance of the wrong end of the cat." "Yes." He did not elaborate. "Want
to tell old Jack how it happened?" "No." "C'mon,
you're my prisoner here, I could make you tell
me." Norrington
turned and looked at him. "No you
couldn't. Now leave it be." His face was as hard and cold as Jack had
ever seen it. "But
there's a story here, I can tell, might be almost as good as some of
mine." Jack fingered the bullet
holes in his chest as he said this. "If
you're so bloody interested, go ask Gibbs.
He was there." Norrington
sat at the table, rubbing his temples with his fingers. Jack left him there and ambled up to Gibbs
and started asking questions. Gibbs
answered, "Aye, I were there. Bad business, that." He took a long pull from his flask. "So
what happened to him?" "I'm
sorry, Captain, it be bad luck to be tellin' another
man's stories before he wants 'em told. "But
he told me to ask you," Jack wheedled. "The
only thing I can say is that day is what made me leave the Navy." He drank again. He added, "and
it changed Norrington. He never smiled
after that." "You mean
he ever smiled?" "Aye, one of the best young officers around.
Knew all the men by name. Could joke with a body but knew his ship and
didn't tolerate bad sailors. Still a
good sailor now..." Jack was
intrigued. Apparently there was more to
the Commodore than serving others. He
knew he would eventually
find out the information he wanted and until then he had
Norrington to have fun with. He still
wasn't entirely sure what had possessed him to kidnap the man. Several
days later, Jack decided that the time was right to begin his plans for the
Commodore. The man actually appeared to
be almost enjoying himself now under Jack's constant barrage of teasing,
touching, and innuendo. He went to
search him out and found him at the bow, leaning over the railing and staring
pensively at the water. A few feet
behind him, the two pirates Jack had assigned to make sure he didn't do
anything stupid were slumped against each other, faces relaxed in their
unconscious state. "You
didn't hurt them too much, did you?"
Jack gestured at the slumbering pirates. "No. They should be fine in a few hours. I wanted to be alone." "Ah.
Of course.
And now that you've had some time alone, why don't you come to the cabin
with me for dinner." Norrington
nodded once and followed him. After
dinner, they were sitting in Jack's cabin, a bottle on the table between
them. Conversation had run out and the
two men shared a surprisingly companionable silence with their mugs of
rum. "More rum, Commodore?" Jack
was surprised that it took as little effort as it had to get Norrington to
start drinking the stuff. "Why
not, I'm on a pirate ship, it's not as if I need to be doing anything in the
morning, anyway." The dishes
were cleared and a second bottle was opened. "How about a game of cards, Commodore?" "If you'd like, Sparrow." "Captain,
Captain Sparrow. Why does everyone
forget that?" A few
minutes later, when the cards were dealt, Jack leaned in and asked, "Are
you a betting man, Commodore?" "Captain
Sparrow, I have nothing to bet with as you may have noticed." "'M
not talking about money, luv, I want to play for
information." "You
know I cannot divulge anything about the Navy and its whereabouts." "Not
navy information, information of a more personal nature. Winning hand gets to ask losing hand one
question, loser answers, no backing out." Norrington's response was positive, if slightly slurred. "And all answers must be the truth, no
fantastical stories." He looked
sternly at Jack. "Agreed, mate." Jack
dealt the first round. Of course, he
won. "All right, Commodore Norrington, what's your first name?" "James." "Good. James, I'm Jack, let's dispense with the
titles for tonight." He smiled at
James who pressed his lips together and looked away. After that,
the game continued, another bottle of rum was consumed, and James won a
surprising number of hands. "What's
your real name, Jack?" "Don't
know. All anyone ever called me was Jack
that I can remember. The Sparrow part
came later." "How
did you really escape the East India Company?" "Do
you have any brothers?" "Where
were you born?" "Why the navy?" "Impersonating
a clergyman?" And so on
until Jack asked the question he was waiting for. "How'd you get the scars on your back,
James?" The mood
shifted immediately from playful to deadly serious. James looked at Jack. "The game is over." He stood. "What
about men of our word and all that?"
Jack pressed him. "Bastard." "Oh
come on, how bad can it be?" Jack
was hoping for some common ground, a shared experience that might draw the man
closer to him. A similar set of marks
adorned his own back, a souvenir of a brief time he had spent on a king's ship
after being impressed and before escaping over the side. James
swallowed the rest of the rum in his glass and poured himself another
measure. Downed that
one as well. Jack realized that
he might have asked for more than he was ready to hear. Norrington
started speaking in a low tone. "When
I was first made Lieutenant, I served in a ship called the Calliope. Bill Hunt was the captain of her." Jack's face twitched involuntarily at the
name of the ship and he gripped his mug tighter at the name of the
captain. "So
you've heard of them, then. Well this
was some months before the mutiny..."
He took another gulp of rum.
"We had taken a pirate ship off the He looked
at Jack. "No, it wasn't me. It was Joshamee
Gibbs. When Gibbs was caught and brought
before Hunt, he went into a black rage. Worse than I had ever seen him. He wasn't about to wait until Tuesday, that
was our day for punishment on the Calliope, for this one and he wasn't waiting
for anyone to speak for him. He gave the
order for forty lashes and was about to have him seized to the rigging when I
spoke up. Oh how stupid and brave I was
then. Of course, I thought I was invincible and I didn't really think he'd do
anything to an officer. I told him that
Gibbs was acting under my direct orders.
He ordered me to take the punishment in place of him. So it was me they seized up instead." Jack looked
at the man in front of him. He knew as
well as any sailor that forty lashes with the cat'o'nine
tails was almost a death sentence. "Did
you...did they, the full forty?" he asked. "I
don't know. I passed out at 36. I think so.
When I came to, I had been cut down and they were dousing my back with
salt water. I don't think any of them
thought it would help me but I was young and strong and I knew I would survive
it." James looked around without
seeing the cabin, lost in his memories. The
fear on his face was apparent to Jack.
He was silent for some moments. "That's
not all to the story is there?" Jack asked gently. They had left the chairs and table behind and
were both sprawled on the floor, leaning against the bulkheads, the rum between
them. "No." James poured more rum into his cup, drank it
down and added more. "I've never
spoken the rest to anyone. Why should I
start with you?" "Because I'm Captain Jack Sparrow." Jack smiled, a little
hollowly. James stared at him,
disappointment on his face and turned away.
Jack reached for him and looked at him, all humor
gone. "Because you need to tell
someone and I'm the best you've got." James nodded, took a few breaths and
continued. "I was
lying on deck, barely able to move when Hunt came up to me and spat at me. He said that if I loved the damned pirates so
much, then I could bunk with them for the rest of the trip. I was clapped in irons, not that they needed
them with the state I was in, and thrown into the brig with the pirates. They... they... For three days I was with them
and they took out all their anger on me..in
ways...," he swallowed hard. Jack
knew what was coming and he moved closer to the other man, offering his own
self against the demons that still haunted him.
He took hold of James's hand and gently stroked it. "They...I...You
know, I don't think I screamed once during the flogging but I don't think I
stopped screaming for the next three days.
There were 500 men on that ship and not one ever came down to help
me. Not one. There were fifteen men in the cell with me
and every one took his turn. I couldn't
do anything. Jack, I couldn't stop
it. I tried but ..." Tears coursed down his face. Jack took
him in his arms and gently rocked him. "Sshh, Jamie love, it's all right." James sat
up and looked at him, "No. No it's
not all right. I was 18 years old and my
captain beat me almost to death and then I was raped. They raped me, Jack and took away everything
I was." Suddenly the silent tears
gave way to great heaving sobs. Jack
awkwardly held on and rubbed the sweaty back.
A long time later, the heaves subsided; James straightened up and moved
off slightly. Jack got up and brought
him a glass of water that he held in both hands as he drank. He set the
glass down on the deck beside him. Looked at Jack. Who
looked back at him with a disturbingly serious expression on his face. James spoke
again. "Jack, I don't want your
pity so just stop. It happened. And now you're the third man in the "First,
it's not pity, mate. It's sympathy. Totally different thing,
really. And second, my stories
have happy endings and feature me, neither of which is true of yours. And speaking of endings, how did you end up
here after that? I mean, why on earth
did you stay in the navy?" "It
was all I knew. Hunt had quite a few
friends in the Admiralty and he made up some story about me being captured and
tortured by the pirates. I don't think
too many believed him, though, because as soon as I was fit for duty, both
Gibbs and I were transferred here. I
think they just wanted the problem to go away.
I guess it worked in a way. After
the mutiny, the Calliope was sunk with all hands by a couple of first-rates,
Gibbs left the service, and they knew I would never speak of it." He suddenly looked tired, very tired, and
young and vulnerable. Jack led him to
the bed and tucked him in. He looked
back at the sleeping man once and left the cabin. Jack was
still at the taffrail, staring into the "Gibbs,
why did you let me bring him on board, when you knew...?" "Jack,
I told you at the time, it would be bad luck," Gibbs reproached. "But
you say everything is bad luck, how was I to know the difference?" "I'm
sorry, Jack, but you're a difficult man to dissuade when you've a mind to take
something. Just why did you want him
here? I never did understand that." "I
liked the look of him. And he was a
challenge. I like challenges. And I wanted to flirt with him...There'll be no
more flirting after this," he intoned dejectedly. "So he
told you the whole story, then?" "Yes. How could that man...? And those pirates...?" "Jack,
not all pirates are honorable, like you." "I
know that." "So
what are you going to do now, Jack?" "I
don't know. All me plans are
ruined. Can't try
seducing him now. Not after
what's happened to him." Jack
remembered the bottle of rum at his side and took a swallow. "Were
you really going to, Jack?" "Of course. I told you. I liked him." "But
what now, Jack? Do you still like
him?" "No. He's been so damaged. And so stoic and brave. No, I don't like him anymore. Now I'm bloody well in love with him."
Jack's tone was angry when he admitted this. "What? Jack, are you sure? You've never said that about anyone." "I
know, Gibbs. Been
thinking about it all night since he fell asleep. He is the one person in all my life that I
would put before my own self every time.
I never would have figured it out if he hadn't told me what happened to
him. But now, how can I do anything
about it? I never had much chance of
actually getting him to come round to me before, but now? I'm a pirate and a captain. How can he look at me with anything but
hatred? Not to mention all their laws
and morals and such. What the hell can I
do now?" "Mebbe you should just tell him, Jack?" "Nah,
that'll never work. I'm just going to
have to keep my hands to myself and hope for friendship. Not much chance of that, either. I'll think of something." The
subsequent few days were uncomfortable for Jack. All his mannerisms changed around the
Commodore. Where once he would have been
joking and touching, now he would pull his hand back,
shut his mouth and step slightly away. He
thought James looked sometimes relieved by this new Jack Sparrow and sometimes
confused. He utterly failed to recognize
the disappointment and hurt that James was a master at hiding. As Jack's
tension mounted, he spoke less and drank more.
And more.
That evening, Jack was drunker than he ever was. His body responded before his muddled mind
could stop it. He was staring at James,
rock hard and hungry and before he knew how it happened, he had James pushed
against the wall, his arms on either side of his shoulders and his erection
pressing obviously into the man's thigh.
"Want you, James. So
much," he couldn't help saying. He
felt James's body stiffen and go still against him. James uttered no protest, though. Jack looked into his eyes and saw the fear in
them. He wrenched himself away and ran
blindly from the cabin. He did not
return that night. The next
morning, the Part II – Give Nothing Back More than
one person noticed James's distraction when he returned to his duties. No one said anything to him, though. His officers would never dare and he had no
close friends beyond the Navy. His time
on Jack's ship had vividly brought back memories and feelings he had believed
to be long since banished. There were
other thoughts and feelings as well, a confused tangle of them that he had no
idea how to separate and tame. Jack,
himself, was in the center of that Gordian knot and
when James analyzed what had occurred on the Black Pearl, he realized that of
all the people in his life, Jack Sparrow was the closest thing he had to an
equal counterpart. Perhaps that was why
he had felt comfortable enough around the man to tell his terrible secret to
him. But, Jack's reaction afterwards,
his nervousness, his refusal to return to the easy banter that had lowered his defenses in the first place, made him wish that he had
never started that stupid game with Jack. Two weeks
later, a package arrived, addressed to Commodore Norrington. No one knew how it had arrived, neatly
wrapped, at the door to his office. Cautiously,
he opened it and found inside nothing but a square of black cloth. When he unfolded it, he found himself to be
staring at a Jolly Roger, holed in several places, with an hourglass on the
side of a grinning skull. He knew that
flag, he was sure of it. He called
Lieutenant Groves into his office. "Mr.
Groves, what do you make of this?" he asked, showing him the flag. "Sir,
that's the flag of Black Pete Ransom. He's
one of the worst terrors of the "I
found it on my doorstep today. No
messages, no markings on the package other than my own name." "How strange. But someone has done us a great favor, getting rid of that one." "So it
would seem. Thank you lieutenant, you
are dismissed." He watched After
another week, another packaged flag appeared mysteriously. This one was unmistakable, the skeleton with
its bloody heart staring at him from the torn fabric. Savage Sam who, in a cruel parody of the
native cultures he had seen in the In the
following five weeks, he found three more flags on his doorstep. Some of the most dangerous and despicable
pirates he had ever come across were now no more. The last came with a short note that read,
"I do this for you." It was
unsigned. It didn't matter,
though. His patrols and intelligence
network had supplied a name to their unknown benefactor. For a very
brief moment, James almost told him then entire story, his past, how Sparrow
treated him both before and after hew found out, his own feeling for Sparrow,
everything that had been pressing so heavily on his mind since his return. He shook his head impatiently. "No, Lieutenant, there is nothing to
tell. He treated me relatively well and
after I rescued one of his crew from drowning, he decided not to keep me and
returned me here." He wondered if
his lie was apparent. James was
out on the Dauntless, determined to find and catch Sparrow now and discover the
true cause of his strange behavior. With a stiff wind on her beam, the ship was
moving steadily to the last known coordinates of the Black Pearl when the
lookout spotted sails two points forward of the starboard beam. James stared at the scene unfolding through
his telescope. Some miles away a big
black ship was surrounded by a number of much smaller vessels. None of them singly could do much damage to
the galleon, but together, they could harry the Black
Pearl until she succumbed. "Commodore,
we have to help him. Sir, please. Look what he's been doing these past few
weeks," Lieutenant Groves spoke to him. "And
how, Mr.Groves, do you suggest we do that? We cannot sail directly into the teeth of
this wind." He knew he was letting
his anger and frustration at his helpless position leak out with his
words. The most powerful ship in the Scant
minutes later, their belated rescue was moot.
A resounding, echoing explosion shook the Black Pearl and suddenly where
there were formerly six ships in their telescopes, now there were only three
and a rain of smoking debris. A lucky
shot must have touched off the James
continued to the site of the wreckage, hoping that when he arrived, he would
find survivors. One
particular survivor. Sparrow had
to be alive; his luck saw him through everything. When they
reached the smoking flotsam, he put all the ship's boats over, and had them
searching for hours. They found no
one. He was in the last boat to return,
scanning the water for any movement, any sound.
The rays of the setting sun reflected off something glinting in the
water. He directed the boat towards it,
his mouth dry with hope. It was Sparrow's
compass, cracked and floating near a battered leather tricorn
hat. He reached down and picked both
from the water. No sign of Jack Sparrow
accompanied his effects. His boat rowed
back and forth over the water until it was too dark to see the oars. Norrington
made his solitary way aft to his lonely cabin.
There he sat and fingered the worn leather tricorn
in his hands. The dark stains on the
band could have been sweat. Or
blood. He looked closer at the inside of
the band. There was a folded scrap of
paper stuck there. He pulled it out and
carefully unfolded it. He started in
surprise when he saw his own name at the top in the same handwriting as that on
the scrap of paper he now carried in his waistcoat pocket. "My Dear James, I am truly sorry for how I behaved toward you
while you were my guest on the Black It is my fervent wish that when we are both old
men together, someday I will show this letter to you and we both may laugh at
how stupid I was when we were younger and how dramatic everything seemed
then. It appears that my life is not
complete without you. The Black James
Norrington sat in his darkening cabin, the letter crushed in his fist, and
mourned for everything he had lost. |