Marooned, 21

In Which Jack Takes Sides

by

Gloria Mundi

There was more that Norrington hadn't told him: he was nearly certain of that. He'd skimmed over whatever glorious naval engagement had left him with a leg that wouldn't bend. He hadn't said anything about Port Royal, or the Governor, or the Governor's charming daughter. He had not explained why he was here, on this uncharted island, in search—in search?—of Captain Jack Sparrow.

Norrington looked like a man who'd lost everything that mattered: and now Jack knew why.

Strange, to sit in the Ariel's jolly-boat, watching the island—his island—become separate from him, divided from him by a widening tranch of water. A year on solid land. A year in the same place. The gentle pitch and roll of the Ariel's ever-so-clean deck beneath his bare feet felt like flight, rapture, rescue. Jack wished Norrington would shut up, just for a minute, and let him appreciate the sensation of being afloat once more. But Norrington was on about this war, and how it was over and yet not (Jack shook his head at this) and he kept looking at Jack as though he expected a sensible, informed response.

"And so," he was saying, "I have taken it upon myself to wage war upon the French—and the Spanish, or what remains of them—as long as I may."

"Begging your pardon," said Jack, with a contrite smile, "but you and whose navy?"

Norrington gestured at the Ariel's crew. "I've a few good men, and there are many who are sympathetic to Old England, and everything that she stood for." His eyes, Jack could've sworn, went misty. "But there is always a need for more. More ships: more good men ..."

"I'd join you," Jack said, smoking it at last, "but I'm temporarily out of the pirating trade."

"You're siding with the French?" Norrington drew himself up. His eyes were certainly not misty now: no, they were the colour of the inside of an iceberg that had almost holed the Black Pearl once, when they'd sailed far to the south. His fingers curled into a fist at his side. It was a long time since Jack had felt threatened by another man, and for a moment he mistook the sensation—that rush of heat and energy and tautness—for something quite different.

"I didn't say that!" Jack took a turn along the Ariel's trim quarterdeck, wishing he still had a hat. "Can't side with anyone, can I?" He gestured. "No ship."

As he'd hoped, Norrington's expression softened.

"Captain Norrington—may I call you Captain, for now?—Captain Sparrow is at your disposal," said Jack, bowing grandly. "But I fear there's little I can do from my personal kingdom, here."

He gestured over his shoulder at the island. His island. His very small island.

"You want a ship," said Norrington.

"Of course I want a ship," said Jack. "And once I've my own ship again—though never as lovely as my dear Pearl, of course—we might come to some accord."

"Do you imagine I have ships to give away?"

"Let me sail with you," said Jack. "I reckon between us we can find a ship or two that the French ain't using."

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