First Impressions (James Norrington) (Book 1)

Chapter 3: Unwavering Convictions

Trepidation flowed through him while James stood next to his captain on the quarter-deck of the Dauntless, the muscles in his broad back and shoulders fraught with tension. He was waiting in anticipation for Theodore and several other members of the crew to return from their search of the burning wreckage. His eyes and attention focused solely on their silhouettes, which were barely visible and sometimes disappeared within the impenetrable fog. It was the only noticeable sign that the incident put him on edge since he made sure not to show it on his features.

He'd encountered similar grim sights such as this more times than he'd like to admit since he began his career in the navy. His first time had been a passenger's vessel. He and the crew caught sight of the ship in the distance and hadn't been close enough to rescue the poor souls on board from the ruthless onslaught of pirates that had decided to attack them. While trying to reach their location, all they could do was look on powerlessly as everyone was slaughtered and their ship was destroyed. He could still envision the many motionless bodies of innocent men, women, and children bobbing in the water as a result of the carnage. There had been no survivors.

Each time he observed something close to what had happened, it brought forth the memory in his mind and a wide array of emotions such as horror, remorse, and grief. This time was no different. Many innocent lives had been lost once again, and they hadn't been there to stop it. It was hard to stomach. He knew the likelihood of anyone else besides William Turner surviving was slim. The young boy was lucky to have lived through the explosion based on the condition of the ship; it had been completely torn in two.

The question of what had caused the vessel's destruction was still left unanswered, which put him ill at ease as well. As the governor stated, it could have been an accident; merchant ships have been known to be decimated if their powder wasn't stored properly. Many chose not to carry more of it than they needed to because of that very reason. On the other hand, Mr. Gibbs, despite being a questionable source, had given an explanation that was just as plausible; pirates. It was a possibility he couldn't ignore. He'd encountered far too many of them in these waters for him to be comfortable with. In fact, given the state of things, they could still be close to the area, hiding in the mist that was starting to dissipate and waiting for the opportune moment to attack. The vessel and the product it had been carrying was still engulfed in flames, and they'd found Mr. Turner near the remains, meaning the attack took place not long ago. If they chose to strike, Theodore and the men with him could be slain in the cannon fire.

Time seemed to tick by slowly until, at last, the fog disappeared, and Theodore and the crew began making their way back towards the Dauntless. James' eyes were set on their surroundings, but all he could see was the fallen vessel, a few nearby islands, and empty horizons. If there had been a pirate ship close by, it had vanished along with the mist.

He felt a firm hand grip his shoulder and met the gaze of his captain, Blake Saunders. His bright blue eyes were on him as he inspected his facial features. James knew from the small squeeze the man gave his shoulder that he could see the overwhelming anxiety he was feeling despite his best attempts to hide it. Blake had the uncanny skill of being able to read even his best-concealed emotions like an open book when others could not.

"James," he said softly, calling him by his first name instead of his last as he usually did when he was commanding his ship. "Come with me."

"Yes, sir," James replied just as softly with a nod.

Blake Saunders was a tall, lithe middle-aged Irish man with dozens of freckles sprinkling the pale skin on his face. He wore a pristine royal blue and white uniform similar to James' that had a few extra embellishments to denote his position as captain. His short graying red hair was hidden underneath the white powdered wig on top of his head. A black tricorne hat usually sat on top of his head, but it was missing. Without a doubt, he'd chosen not to bother with it after being woken up so abruptly to the news of a merchant's vessel on fire and sinking nearby.