The Life I Was Doomed To

You Have My Word

"Steady, men! We have them on the run!" Commodore Norrington called to his crew. The HMS Interceptor cut through the blue Caribbean waters, gaining on an older-looking ship that flew the skull-crossbones flag of piracy. "Get the grappling hooks! Prepare to board her!"

Minutes later, Mariners from the Interceptor swung over to the pirate ship, Norrington soon following. Fortunately, the pirates were outnumbered and soon surrendered.

"Search the holds, down the bilges!" Norrington ordered. He turned to the pirates being put in irons. "And just who is your captain?"

A man with a ragged tricorner came forward. "I reckon I'm closest to cap'n we've got; I be first mate."

"First mate? Where is your captain?" Norrington asked.

"Lost 'em barely a week ago; hurricane swept him overboard."

"Does not that make you captain?"

The pirate shrugged. "I s'pose."

"And yet you still refer to yourself as the first mate?"

"'Tis on account of the lass," he answered. "Wanted to give a bit of time to grieve."

"Lass?" Norrington demanded. "You have a child on board?"

A third pirate piped up. "The late cap'n's daughter and she ain't no child." He gave a sneer. "A right pretty lil' thing; I 'ad 'oped to have a bit of fun with that lil' jewel, but Cap'n wouldn't let a soul lay a finger on the wench."

"And rightly so," Norrington practically ground out. Whether or not she was a pirate, Norrington's sense of chivalry was pricked at the thought of one of these scoundrels touching a young woman against her will. "Where is this young lady?" he demanded.

The first mate jerked his head towards a door on deck. "Cap'n cabin."

Of course, the door was barred shut, but with a few good shoves from a couple of Navy men, it swung open.

Norrington proceded in with caution, his sword drawn, Groves and Gillette just behind him. At first, the cabin appeared empty, but the faint sounds of movement drew the commodore's attention to the desk. Slowly, he approached the furniture and peeked around its corner.

"Please don't hurt me!" The breathless plea came from a young woman huddled half under the desk. Her hair was loosely tied half-back, tendrils escaping to frame her face. She wore a simple, faded dress, tall lace-up boots, a few small rings, gold hoops, a white and red agate locket, and a wide cuff bracelet on her right wrist. In her hand, she tightly held what appeared to be a small dagger. Norrington met her wide, pleading eyes, and instantly knew this was no act. She was genuinely afraid of them.

"Groves, Gillette, stay where you are," he ordered. Carefully sheathing his blade so that she could see, he moved around the desk and crouched down in front of her, keeping his hands where she could see them. "It's all right, Miss. I am not here to hurt you."

"You-You'll not kill me?"

"Not I," he answered. "That's up to the courts to decide."

"The courts?"

Norrington nodded gravely. "I'm afraid you will be tried with the rest of your father's crew. Your father was captain, was he not?"

Slowly, she nodded. "He was."

"Then, I'm sorry, but I must bring you in, Miss." Norrington sighed.

She seemed to deflate, her eyes closing for a moment before fluttering open again to reveal hopeless resignation. She held out her knife to Norrington, handle first. He accepted the weapon and offered his hand to help her up from the floor. She slid her hand into his and rose from her huddled position with a lot more grace than he imagined most ladies he had met could muster in such a situation.

"Since you have been cooperative, I will let your hand be bound in front," Norrington said, motioning one of his men forward to put her hand in the irons they had brought with them. "Gently, Gillette, if you please."

Just then, one of junior officer poked his head in the door. "Are you all right in here, Commodore?"

"Everything is fine, Lieutenant," Norrington answered. "We're just coming out."

"Please, sir," the young woman spoke up. "My cape and hat." She pointed her shackled hands toward the articles which were hanging on a nail by of the cabin's berths.

Norrington knew that he was giving this young woman quite a bit of latitude here, but his sense of chivalry won out. "Of course, Miss. Groves, please bring the lady's hat and cape." Groves handed her the wide-brimmed, plumed hat, but held onto the cape for her.

It was a three-day voyage back to Port Royal, and a longer three days Norrington never knew. The prisoners below decks were constantly fighting amongst themselves, arguing with their guards, or trying to escape. Except for one.

The young lady, whom Norrington had learned was a Miss ______ _______, was probably the most compliant prisoner he had ever dealt with. She only spoke when spoken to, she never fought or argued with her guards, she silently ate whatever food she was given, even thanking her captors when her meals and water rations were brought. For her good behavior, Norrington had allowed her to be brought up on deck to walk around for a few minutes on the second day. She was closely followed by Groves the whole ten minutes, and he reported that she made no suspicious moves, had, in fact, done her best to stay out of the sailors' way, and kept her hands where they could be seen.

So, on the third day, Norrington allow her a longer time on deck (if convicted, this would probably be her last taste of "freedom"), and had her irons removed. He watched from the helm as she drifted along the port rail, keeping her hands clasped at her waist where Groves could see them. 

Norrington made his rounds on deck, and it was several minutes until he looked around for their prisoner. He found her at the bow, Groves a couple of paces behind her. Silently, he relieved Groves of his guard duty in favor of watching _. She stood tall, one hand ensuring her hat stayed in place as the wind blew and the other resting on the rail. She nodded toward a pale smudge on the horizon.

"That's it, isn't it." It was not a question.

"Port Royal? Yes," Norrington answered quietly, stepping forward to join her at the rail.

"And there will be a fair trial there?" she asked, her eyes never leaving the horizon.

"Yes, of course.'

"What about before? I'll be put in prison, I suppose."

"I'm afraid so, Miss," he answered. "You will be given the chance to speak for yourself, to confess to you crimes, before the trial. I do recommend that you do; the sentencing might be easier, seeing as you are young."

"And who will I be talking to? You, Commodore?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

Finally, she turned and looked up at him, her expression serious. "I swear to you now, I will say naught but the truth. "But will you listen, truly listen to what I have to say?"

Norrington met her firm gaze unflinchingly. "You have my word."