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How did it come to this?
James Norrington, Commodore of the Royal Navy, wondered as he stood on the edge of the plank, looking outward to a desolate island, looking backward to see minacious pirates jeering at him, telling him to jump. His hands were bound loosely by rope, so loose they would likely come off as soon as he hit the water, but he decided to give no indication of this, in case the scoundrels would decide to tie the ropes tighter, so that he would struggle and drown not long after jumping.
Norrington wondered how different his situation may have been if he had not decided to remain on the Interceptor once he had noticed that Jack Sparrow had commandeered it. At the time, it seemed smart to stay hidden and observe, follow them to the Isla De Muerta and catch Sparrow and his pirate friends with his promised, Elizabeth. At that moment, he knew that he likely wouldn’t get another chance to catch Sparrow and the other pirates. Still, he somehow managed to forget that there was no way to get back to the Navy or contact them if he ever found Elizabeth or if he got in trouble with them.
It wasn’t long until Barbossa found Norrington, hiding in the lower decks of the Interceptor. A broadside battle with the Black Pearl forced Norrington to take out his sword and fight, putting it to the test for the first time. The crew was captured, and Captain Barbossa was not keen to have a famous pirate hunter on his ship. Will Turner was gold-hearted enough to ask Norrington go free, but foolish enough to “not specify when or where”, as Barbossa put it.
A foolish split-second decision and a foolish pirate’s son was going to leave Norrington marooned on a deserted island… with Jack Sparrow.
He held his head high, despite his brunet hair getting in his face from the wind, something he wasn’t used to after wearing a powdered wig for many years. He felt the cold wind through his linen blouse, not anticipating the freezing water below soaking it through.
“It’s too bad to see you go, Commodore, much like your exquisite ship.” Barbossa sneered, speaking with an intelligence and eloque that surprised Norrington. Though his diction and enunciation was markedly pirate. “It’s a nice hat you’ve got there,” he continued, “I think that I’ll be keepin’ it.”
One of Barbossa’s henchman snatched the Commodore’s hat aggressively, causing him to stumble backward and almost fall back onto the ship’s deck. It wasn’t helped by the other pirates tugging at his uniform, peeling his coat from his body, entirely stripping him of his rank and uniform. The chortling miscreants pushed Norrington back onto the edge of the plank, and lack of balance sent him over the edge.
He struggled against the ropes around his wrists, and as he suspected, they loosened with barely a tug, and he was free to swim to the surface, where the only destination to go thereafter was the island.
After resurfacing, the first thing Norrington did was swim toward the island, hoping his strength would carry him the entire way. As he began treading the water, he heard muffled voices behind him. One was the voice of Sparrow. He heard a muffled splash once he was further away, but he didn't look back.
Norrington’s blouse and trousers clung tightly to him once he walked out of the shallow waters. He pulled his long hair out of his face, taking a string from his pockets and tying it up. He watched the Black Pearl sail away. Once again, he had lost Elizabeth to those pirates.
“That’s the second time I’ve had to watch that man sail away with my ship.” The beleaguered voice of Sparrow came from behind him.
Norrington groaned, thinking about the fact that they were going to have to survive on the island together. Perhaps Barbossa’s plan was for them to get sick of and kill each other. There was, after all, a pistol with one shot. A pirate and his hunter? One was bound to try to kill the other, and Norrington had already planned on hanging Sparrow before this fiasco began.
“Well, the best thing to do would be to find a way of escape, then. Before we both starve to death or kill each other.” Norrington said dryly. “You were right, I have heard of you, Sparrow. You escaped this island once before-” He stopped when he realized that Sparrow was walking away from him, into the greener part of the island, marching, or his nonchalant version of it, like he was on a mission.
Chasing after him, Norrington said again, “You escaped this island once before. How did you manage it?”
Sparrow was going through a strange set of steps. Norrington would have assumed he was drunk if he weren’t so precise. He knocked his hand against a palm tree trunk, took three long strides away from it, then jumped up and down on a particular spot of sand.
Norrington caught up with Sparrow, and with irate breath, practically shouted, “You must have some idea, you stole the Interceptor from under the Royal Navy’s nose, you pulled together a crew of miscreants from Tortuga and somehow survived the journey to the Isla De Muerta, and you managed to bargain Barbosa into not killing you. Are you the pirate I’ve heard about, the pirate I’ve been chasing since you came to Port Royal, or are you not?”
There was a pause. Sparrow looked into Norrington’s eyes blankly, took a breath, and said, “The last time I was here, I was only here for three days, alright?”
“Three days?” Norrington raised his eyebrows.
“Yes, three days.” Sparrow bent down and dug his nails into the sand, finding some sort of handle. “This island was used as a storage location for some rum runners-” He lifted the handle, and a secret door opened, leading to a secret storage cellar underground. It was dim and small. “-who happened to pass by while I was sitting here, waiting for my death.” Sparrow jumped down into the cellar. “I bartered for safe passage to Tortuga, where I found my own ship-” He took an armful of rum bottles from the crates. “-and have been hunting for Barbosa and my ship, The Black Pearl, ever since.” Sparrow climbed out, putting the bottles onto the sand and keeping two in hand.
As he opened a bottle, he said “From the looks of things, the rum runners have been long out of business.” And with contempt, “Probably have you to thank for that. A couple more boots in your collection, right?”
Norrington stood there for a moment, processing it all. “That’s it, then. You sat here, drunk on an island for three days and waited for someone else to save you.”
“Welcome to the Caribbean, love.” Sparrow tossed Norrington a rum bottle. The Commodore sighed and looked into its reflection of himself. He wasn’t a Commodore now. With his wig, hat, and coat gone, he looked practically like a… pirate.
He shuddered at the thought and tossed the bottle away.
It didn't take much for him to pick it back up.
The stress of his impending starvation, death, and a growing thirst eventually caught up to him, and it didn't take more than a few drinks for him to become intoxicated. It was a bubbly, joyful feeling. The rum was warm down his throat and in his stomach. He wasn’t really a drinker. Being a Naval Commander, he was expected to uphold a high standard of himself.
He had built a fire not too long after Sparrow found the rum, to keep himself warm during the freezing night. He had sat by it, drinking alone for a while, before an even more intoxicated Sparrow began dancing up, singing the sea shanty traditionally known by pirates as “A Pirate’s Life For Me”.
Norrington was surprised how many of the lyrics he recognized. As a pirate hunter, he did learn a lot about pirates. Their values, their stories, and their songs.
“We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot. Drink up me hearties, yo ho.” He mumbled along as Sparrow sang loudly. “We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot, drink up me hearties, yo ho.” Norrington didn't even notice his volume as he kept going. “Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me!”
Sparrow laughed heartily, “Commodore! Turned pirate, have you?”
“Never in a million years.” Norrington was embarrassed to realize he was smiling. Was he having fun? It must have been the rum. He was slurring his speech a bit already.
Jack spun around, his arms flailing. “I love this song!” He seemed to lose his balance and fell down onto the sand, causing Norrington to chuckle.
“You know a pirate song, Norrington. I’m surprised at you.” Sparrow got up into a sitting position with great effort.
“I know lots of things about pirates. I’ve held so many of you in jail, I learned a lot from them. Before I hanged them, you know.”
It wasn’t meant to be a funny statement, but Sparrow laughed. “Before you hanged them. Oh, I’m sure you got to be real good friends with the men you planned to send to the noose.”
“No… I…” Norrington caught Sparrow’s infectious laughter and chuckled again before continuing, “No, I didn't become friends with them, I just heard things, that’s all.”
“Well, you don’t call this being friends with a pirate?” Sparrow grinned. “You’ve been chasing me down since Port Royal, you planned to hang me, yet here you are, singing and drinking with the very man you wanted to kill weeks ago.”
“I may kill you yet.” Norrington said with chaff. “If we have to stay here any longer.”
“Am I such bad company, Commodore?”
“James.”
“James?”
“James Norrington.”
“Captain Jack Sparrow, nice to meet you.” Sparrow — Jack — shook his free hand.
“Nice to meet you, Jack.” It was a joke, surely. Yet Norrington — James — felt like they really had been introduced again. Earlier they had met as pirate and pirate hunter, now they met as two men in the same situation.
They sat in silence for awhile, and drank some more. They eventually found their heads too heavy to keep upright and laid on their backs, looking up to the stars. With lack of buildings or forests, the sky stretched all around them, wrapping them in its comforting darkness.
“Why did you become a pirate, Jack?” James finally said, breaking the silence of the night, which had only been filled with the crackling of the fire until then.
“Why? I was born into it. My father was a pirate, his father was a pirate, and so on. Family business. You?”
“Well, my parents died when I was young. I joined the navy because there was nowhere else to turn. How else was I to support myself but to hope for an illustrious career?”
“It must have been tough. I can’t imagine following all those rules and… dress codes.” Jack held up some of his hair in the shape of a powdered wig.
“The wigs are quite itchy.” James said when he noticed Jack’s imitation.
Jack laughed. James felt warm again, though the warmth tied itself in knots as he watched Jack’s joy. He thought it must have been the rum, making him feel this way.
“You are nothing like the other pirates, Jack.”
“Hm?” Jack mumbled. He seemed almost asleep.
“You believe in freedom. You don’t care about what others think of you, or what they say. It all rolls off of you. You just go where the waves take you. I can’t imagine living like that.”
Jack sighed. “You would make a great pirate if you wanted to, James.”
“I couldn’t. I’ve been living this life for so long. I was never free like you were. I don’t even know what it would feel like. If it would even feel right.”
“What could be more right than setting your sights wherever felt right? Setting a course without being told where to go or what to do?”
“I…” James’s throat caught. “I’ve been told what to do all my life.”
I’ve been told what to do all my life.
James’s mind swirled with thoughts, all softened with the rum’s effect, but strong enough that James couldn’t dismiss them. “What would I even do? Where would I go?”
“Wherever you want.” Jack said, assuredly.
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It is.”
“How?”
“Just… commence with whatever comes to mind.” Jack sat up, stabilizing himself with his free arm. “Don’t think twice.”
“Don’t think twice.” James sat up.
Don’t think twice.
Jack turned to face him, and James leaned forward, connecting their lips.
It was a second they touched, which felt like an hour, then James pulled away.
He said nothing. No words could explain.
“So that’s why you chased me down, hm?” Jack let go of his rum bottle, and brought his hand up to James’s face, resting his warm hand on his cheek.
And their lips pressed together once more.