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Dead Men Tell No Tales - Norrington's Return

By Fiona DayDreamer

Humor / Adventure

Chapter I

A man, with short coffee-black hair just reaching to his ears, crawled out from the salty water upon the white sand shore of a town. He continued to crawl on his knees and hands while coughing out salt water from his lungs. Soon out of exhaustion he rolled over and lies on his back and facing the warm sun high in the crystal blue sky. His lungs burned and the sun’s light felt warm to his cheek.

In near distance he heard the living hustle and bustle of a town asides the seagulls crying and the slow wooden groaning of a few ships. Those were familiar sounds to his ears. “Civilization.” He whispered relieved. Blinked until his brown eyes were accustomed to the bright light and looked up. Soon he turned around and sat up to see the town.

Knowing he was long gone in some dark place of coldness and solitude. Where exactly he can not recall. Seeing now light, colours and life before his eyes is a delightful sight. Alas not only before his eyes but in his mind many memories are blurry and unclear; some even black as the night and forgotten. As he tried to recall deeper in his memories his head began to ache and everything around him slightly turned like a carrousel. Quickly he shook his head to get rid of the pain and clear his thoughts. He silently groaned as he slowly got to his feet. The sand felt warm and soft and before him was the town with few large ships at the right and on his left small fisher boats with their fishermen clearing the nets. He walked weakened to and fro towards the fishermen. The fishermen noticed him and watched how he approached with a confused and cautious expression. Although they were used to see drunken men staggering about but with this man it was different. His glance was fixed at them and did walk straight but had trouble with his strength to move, every move felt heavy like stones as if they were bound on every limb.

Once he was close to the fishermen he asked. “Where-where am I? What town is this?”

“This is Tortuga, lad. Did you lose yer ship in an angry storm?” Wondered one fisherman to the man while smoking his pipe.

The man blinked at the fisherman. Opened his mouth to speak but nothing came. “I- I don’t remember.” The name Tortuga rang familiar only with less pleasant impressions stirring from within his chest. “Tortuga.” He whispered. Somewhere in his mind, out of focus, a memory recalling ghostly from his past. His head ached again like a thousand needles from every side and heard throbbing at his ears.

“What do yer mean ‘you can’t remember’? One can tell if you lost a ship or not.” Raised the fisherman an eyebrow of doubt, giving out a puff of smoke from his pipe.

The man placed a hand to his head then soon he shook it again to rid the pain.

“I think it’s one of those men who lost literally everythin’, also their mind.” Whispered another fisherman to the other with the pipe. “What’s yer name?” Asked the fisherman with a grin while pointing with his pipe to the man. “I-don’t-know.” Whispered one to the fisherman’s ear with an almost suppressed chuckle. They giggled heartily together.

The man did not like one bit how the two fishermen acted in front of him. His hands balled to fists and clenched his teeth. “Why are you two laughing about? I do have name. It’s ...” He halted to think, to remember. It is a name and not just any, it has a respectable meaning and earned the title for his hard and loyal work. It is somewhere in his mind just at his reach, at the tip of his tongue. Nothing but hot air rolled past his lips.

The two fishermen giggled to his reaction. Angered and annoyed he left the beach and headed onto the main street or what was left to appear so. Filled with manure, filth and drunken people of all sorts. Some even lay deeply asleep while few domestic animals trotted about. In his mind he pondered angered why he can not recall even his own name? Something is not right. Everyone knows their own name, why can’t I? What’s the matter with me?

Suddenly a drunken couple threw their arms round him as if they were old friends and pulled him unwillingly towards a table. Pouring generously a large mug of rum. Due to their drunkenness and his own headache the man did not understand what was said from the man and woman besides their never ending giggling. Except to drink the mug full of rum; with a sigh he took a sip. The rum was not to his taste and spat what was in his mouth to the ground. The man, who spoke mostly, looked oddly very familiar. Also involved with unpleasant impressions, very strong, almost as a negative as hate. Somehow connected with Tortuga and more. The longer the man looked at the drunken man, few memories slowly revealed into sharp focus in his mind. Is he a pirate? Suddenly his eyes fell down to the man’s arms. Aside the tattoos he noticed the scourged flesh in shape of the letter ‘P’ just above his right wrist.

“Wha- what are you- you s-staring at?” Spoke the man in his drunken way while swaying with the woman. Barely able to see clear and straight at the man.

Before the man could open his mouth to respond the two drunkards collapsed to the ground and were gone into their deep slumber. Quick-witted the man tried to shake them awake but it was no use. The alcohol needs to be slept off. “What a fool.” Passed the man’s lips without thinking. Why should I say that to a drunkard I barely know yet have this feeling I know him almost too well? All the other people around did not care what happened but somehow it invoked to a brawl of chaos and nonsense like falling dominos; leading one trouble and brawl to the other. The man did his best he could to dodge many fists, cutting swords and sharp ends of broken glass bottles or duck at the right moment while trying to sneak out with a stinging headache.

Suddenly something hard hit at the back of his head. He heard shattering glass as the burning pain began to spread and saw suddenly few small shards on his shoulders. Before he could turn round to see everything felt heavy and turned black before his eyes. For a while he was in that darkness of warmth but also a throbbing pain was felt. Soon the darkness grew brighter and the throbbing continued at a slight faster rhythm. Voices in the distance grew closer and clearer. “Do you think it’s him, Capitan? Without a doubt, Mr. Gibbs. Let me know when he awakes from his slumber, will ya? But Capitan! If it’s him, then why didn’t he arrest you? I believe in all good time the question will be answered and when it won’t get answered then we shall need to find another answer from him without him saying it, savy?”

Suddenly the man opened his eyes and blinked. Letting his eyes get accustomed to the light. A slightly elderly man with a grey beard glared at him surprised. “Jack, he’s awake!” Called the elderly man eager to another person with a quick wave of his arm. His face appeared familiar too.

The man slowly sat up with a groan and felt the throbbing at the back of his head. As a reaction he placed a hand to feel out a wound. He only felt a small swelling. A stinging pain followed as he sat up. He squinted his eyes in pain and began to look around. He noticed the familiar environment of wood, masts and men cleaning busily, climbing on masts and ropes or tied ropes. On deck of a ship? The man recalls he has been multiple times on ships but not this one. One with such dark wood that is nearly black. In his mind he had the impression that there was something with this ship that he always wanted but what, was the mystery.

“Escaped Davy Jones’ Locker did you now or did you hide yourself on a well forgotten island, Norrington?” Approaching to him walked a man he slowly recalled to have seen in Tortuga on the main street drunk. A sly broad grin was on his lips and not so drunk due from the way he walked but still in a swaying manner.

“N-Norrington?” Wondered the man with narrowed eyebrows. The name sounded and felt that, that is really his name.

The other man, addressed as Captain, grinned at him as if it is a joke. “You’re pulling my leg. You can’t remember your own name? It’s James Norrington so far I’ve gathered from Miss Swan who is now Miss Turner. Last time we met I believe you were some sort of commodore or more other in the navy. What have you been doing to come out so with your mind? Surely by not drinking rum nor the bottle Gibbs gave you.” The man paused. “Take a bloody guess, who am I?” He outstretched his arms at shoulder height. Presenting himself with a sly smile.

Norrington narrowed his eyes in thought. Trying to recall anything from his mind. The names that were mentioned made him suddenly stir from the chest within. He was irritated by that feeling for a moment but as he tried to focus on finding out the man’s name. More pictures appeared of that man and suddenly a name. “Jack Sparrow.” He almost whispered.

“Aye. Only there should be a Capitan somewhere.” Sparrow grinned. “So your brain is not entirely scrambled as I thought it was.” He turned and walked away. Across the deck to the wheel. Mr. Gibbs gave a scoff to suppress a laugh.

“What’s so amusing about all this?” Norrington turned bewildered to Gibbs. Quickly he got to his feet. “Thanks to you I now know my name and yours. I don’t understand why but I know clearly I have a life but everything what I’ve done to come this far is gone. I can’t remember a thing!” He quickly walked to the closest banister to support, his head was spinning but as a relief the pain was gone.

“And yet you recalled my name aside yours, with some help.” Noted Sparrow. Norrington slowly slid along the banister closer to Sparrow. “By the by mentioning the word help, I will gladly help you if you help me first.”

“What? You? You’re a pirate and I am not! How come do you need my help when you are seeking after some treasure with a compass that doesn’t point north?” Norrington remembered of the special compass that Sparrow has at all times. Mr. Gibbs followed him closely.

“Yet you are on a ship with pirates, mate. The help I’m asking for is not to find a treasure but something more valuable.”

“Unfortunately someone’s hand was brisk at searching my personal belongings that I had with me. Without it, as it is now, I won’t be able to find which way is right and get what I wanted in the first place.”

Norrington blinked to collect. Trying to keep his head clear from Sparrow’s confusing words. He placed a hand to his head to help think clearer aside the throbbing pain. “So, you’re saying that your compass was stolen?”

“Yeah.” Said Sparrow short with raised eyebrows.

“Do you have any leads to the man who stole it?”

“Thanks to a few drunkards in Tortuga they pointed to that ship.” Pointed Sparrow confidently out to the distance.

Norrington needed to narrow his eyes while placing a hand above his eyes to spot a mere speck on the horizon against the sun. “Leads from a few drunkards?” He scoffed. “Who would ever steal a compass that doesn’t point north?”

Sparrow shrugged his shoulders. “Multiple possibilities to guess, mate.”

“Then it must be no coincidence if the man is after the same interest as yours. Why not track ahead with a map to get your treasure while following this ship? If the tracks meet as in the map to the chest, then you’ll have the upper hand to get both what you want.”

“That what I’m searching for, in the first place, cannot be found on any map, Norrington. And I as a pirate am aching to know what are the man’s plans with my compass asides what booty can be found in their ship. Secondly, it is no treasure of the sort.”

Norrington turned to Sparrow stunned. “Is it what I think it is? Isla de Muerta?”

Sparrow smiled broadly. “I’ve learned that life is better than immortality, mate. I intend to find ‘The Black Diamond’.”

“‘The Black Diamond’? I’ve heard of black pearls in Asia but a diamond?” Norrington raised an eyebrow of doubt. “I think it is worthless from its value unless it is a ship.”

“Quite on the contrary, dear Norrington. It happens to be the only diamond in stone and in black and hence priceless.”

“I wonder who in the world would like to have a black diamond in their collection aside from you?”

“That is why I’m rooting for you, mate. You think the right steps ahead aside your hard fate you had to face. Speaking of fate, what did you do all those years after Beckett sunk with his ship?”

“Lord-Lord Beckett is dead?” He blinked at Sparrow surprised.

“Aye, the new Captain of the Flying Dutchman can assure that.”

“N-new Captain of the Flying Dutchman?” Said Norrington surprised. Suddenly a flash of pictures and emotions hit him like lightening. So sudden and fast that the throbbing turned to a head ache. Like sharp and thick needles drilling through his skull from every direction. He gasped and placed a hand to his head and blinked with squinted eyes. His shoulders grew heavy and his knees like jelly. A picture of a young woman with long blonde hair was visible and the following an odd character of a man who had a beard of octopus’ tentacles. “Fear death?” Gasped Norrington. He was almost down at his knees due to the pain and the strong flashes in his mind. Leaning against the banister to support.

“Norrington?” Wondered Sparrow concerned.

“My mind. Flashes. The pain.” He gasped in agony. Quickly Gibbs stepped in time to hold up an arm to support. Avoiding Norrington to collapse. “What’s befallen on him?” Wondered Gibbs to Sparrow. Sparrow shrugged his shoulders in response.

“I’m alright once this headache’s gone, you fool!” Snapped Norrington through clenched teeth. Gibbs and another man of the crew helped Norrington to his feet and brought him below deck to a hanging mat.

Gibbs quickly bid the other sailor to bring a small cup of water. Soon Gibbs returned pacing towards Sparrow. “Captain, what should be done with Norrington? Something tells me that we should act for pity’s sake. It’s, unnatural.”

“Aye, for once I agree with you, Gibbs, but before an act of charity can be done we must get back my compass or else we’ll never find ‘The Black Diamond’.” Spoke Sparrow truthfully while staring to the distance, focused upon the ship on the horizon.

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