The Map

Conscience

Warning: This hasn't been checked at all. Which means it'll be rife with mistakes, spelling errors and other grammatical monstrosities. Apologies ahead of time.

OH and it's still not mine... *sobs*

Norrington knew they were no longer sailing without needing to hear the order to drop anchor. The motion of the boat beneath his cramped, sore limbs told him they were either harboured in a dock somewhere or anchored at sea. He was inclined to think they were anchored at sea for the rocking of the boat was more pronounced than when anchored behind a harbour wall.

The darkness of the cabin was alleviated by the lantern above their heads, swinging gently with the rocking motion of the boat. He had no idea what time it was, but he could hazard a guess it was after midnight and probably well into the witching hour.

Bryant was sleeping at an awkward angle to his side, his head at such an angle that Norrington knew he'd be sore when he woke up. Norrington could feel the muscles in his own neck protesting from the angle of his arms behind his back so he knew Bryant would be much worse.

He leaned over and nudged Bryant with his shoulder. Bryant jerked awake, his eyes cloudy with fatigue.

"Sir?" He looked around him and awareness entered his eyes as the pain in his neck registered. He rotated his neck painfully wincing at the cracking noise it made.

"He has put to anchor." Norrington could hear the pressing frustration in his voice.

"La Romana?" asked Bryant instantly more alert as he sat straighter, trying to ease the ache in his own shoulders.

"I have no idea," Norrington admitted tersely "But we do know one thing: Boyden will not keep his word as to the safety of the men or, indeed, us. I am just surprised he had kept us alive this long. What are you thoughts on this Bryant?"

Bryant puffed out his breath; it wasn't unusual for Norrington to listen to his commanding officers opinions and ideas. In fact Norrington made a habit of finding out what made his closest officers tick. It made him a better leader and Bryant had to admit that Norrington was, by far, the best Commodore he'd ever served under.

"He must have reason to keep us alive. I don't think he does anything unless it is calculated. I also have the feeling that we were not given their correct names," he said slowly.

"Agreed." Norrington nodded. His narrowed eyes fixed on the ends of his now dusty and scuffed boots.

"I just wonder what Sparrow has done in particular to anger Boyde," he mused.

"What besides just existing you mean?" Bryant said dryly, bringing a wry smile to Norrington's lips.

"Do you believe this story of a ward?" he asked Bryant, aware of the other man as he shifted slightly bringing his knees up, his feet apart.

"I am not certain. If a ward does indeed exist I am completely at a loss as to why Sparrow would kidnap her. Ransom?" Bryant shook his head at his own supposition "No. Why kidnap her from her guardian to ransom her back again later. Sparrow wouldn't risk a foolhardy venture like that; for he surely knows Boyden could enlist the entire naval fleet to give chase and what good would that do him?"

"Unless Sparrow realised that Boyden was unlikely to entreat the navy for help. But I still can't imagine that this Ward even exists. No; I believe that Sparrow stole something from the Heron's Reach alright. But something so incredibly valuable that Boyden wants it back at all costs." Norrington stared off into space as he thought deeply.

"We don't know the whole truth about Boyden and Austin's real identity and I have a feeling that when we do a lot of other questions will be answered as well," Bryant added quietly.