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dwgmThis is not for the ficlet meme, I was seized by a piratical (or perhaps commodorial) plot bunny and had the opportunity to chase after it yesterday. Something of a follow-up to the ficlet meme request I fulfilled for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
classics_lover, A Sublime Moment, in which James contemplates his new love, the Interceptor, this one is a short exploration of his thoughts when he learns of her ultimate fate. A last minute entry for the current drabble challenge prompt 'Mercy'...
~ Forbearance ~
Swann refused to consider that the distant column of smoke they’d sited at dawn had anything to do with Elizabeth, but James wasn’t so sure.
“I believe we must investigate. It won’t take much time.”
A flash of anger at the delay swept over the governor’s face. Anger, and then despair. “Very well,” was all he said, before turning away.
Their mission had been nearly hopeless from the start, of course, James reflected, and at present felt far more so. How could it be that they would find Elizabeth alive and… unharmed? She was too beautiful and too helpless, for all her spirit, and the hours since she had been taken by Barbossa and his men could now be counted in days.
The wind was in the correct quarter, and within the hour the Dauntless was as close as she could come to the island. The fire blazed and roiled at the opposite end, the approach to which was barred by shoals, and at first they could see nothing except the burning palms at this distance. But just as James prepared to descend to the waiting longboat, he looked through his glass once more and saw… a man.
Sparrow?
James lip curled. It was too far to be sure, but he could have sworn the figure stomping over the nearer dunes moved like that cursed pirate. And the hair was right, that dark, gewgawed tangle, a too-obvious parody of the wigs of the great and powerful.
Sparrow.
Whom James had last seen at the wheel of the Interceptor, waving that disreputable tricorn of his and shouting his mocking thanks.
And where was the Interceptor now?
In that moment, James was tempted to order a grating rigged immediately. A hundred lashes – no, two hundred – prior to hanging would perhaps cure that scoundrel of insolence, of insouciance…
But James set his teeth. Schooled his wrath. Climbed down into the longboat without giving the order, the unusual ferocity of which would so betray his… unrest… to his subordinates.
If that was indeed Sparrow, there would be time enough.
*
It was Sparrow. Hiding behind Elizabeth.
“Commodore, how good it is to see you!” Elizabeth called, smiling as she strode barefoot over the sand straight toward them, elegant and slim even in her salt-stained shift, her eyes flashing – triumph, or a challenge?
James’s men halted behind him as the two parties met, James continuing forward to catch Elizabeth’s outstretched hands. Sparrow had stopped ten feet in back of Elizabeth and was trying to look composed, chin (with those absurd beaded braids) well up, eyes betraying consternation, if not fear.
As well they might.
James began, “Miss Swann, are you—“
“I’m perfectly well, Commodore.” She squeezed his hands sharply. “I assure you.”
He studied her face. She was quite serious, and moreover attempting to communicate additional information.
She elaborated, verbally. “The pirates of the Black Pearl were… frightening, but thankfully they didn’t cause me any real harm. Mr. Sparrow led Will Turner to the Isla de Muerta so he could rescue me, but the Black Pearl was later able to catch us again. They marooned us here at midday yesterday, and Mr. Sparrow has behaved in a most gentlemanly fashion throughout.”
James raised a brow, and raised his eyes to consider Sparrow, who seemed torn between trying to look innocent and pouting at the term gentlemanly. James’ sense of humor, no doubt exacerbated by his relief, bubbled up inappropriately. He ruthlessly snuffed it and glared at the pirate. “Am I correct in assuming that the brig Interceptor is now in Barbossa’s hands?”
Sparrow’s pout turned to real sadness at this, and James knew even before Elizabeth said the words: “No, James. Barbossa destroyed the Interceptor.”
“Blown up a-purpose,” Sparrow said, speaking at last, “and I’m sorry for it. She was a bonny boat. Ship.”
James said, coldly, “She was, indeed. And would be still, if you had not taken her.” Yet he could not help but be a little mollified by Sparrow’s evident grief at the brig’s destruction.
And Elizabeth said, “Commodore! He—and Will—took her to rescue me! Ja—Mr. Sparrow knew where they’d taken me. Please, he must be forgiven that crime at least, he’s saved my life repeatedly! And we must rescue Will. Barbossa kept Will on the Black Pearl, along with Jack’s crew, and I fear that the pirates may show less forbearance to him than they did to me.”
James frowned, wondering why the pirates had kept Turner and discarded Elizabeth and Sparrow – though marooning could have been considered the worse fate. Yet clearly there was more to this story. But it would have to wait.
James said, “As a pirate, Mr. Sparrow’s fate is sealed, whether he is forgiven his more recent crimes or not. The law is clear.” Sparrow looked rather sardonic at this, and Elizabeth swelled to protest, but James cut her off. “Your father will be overjoyed to find you alive and well, Miss Swann, and we would be cruel to delay your reunion further. Prior to that there is no use in discussing the possibility of Mr. Turner’s rescue. I am quite certain your father will have strong views to express on the subject. Shall we repair to the ship?” He held out his arm.
Elizabeth, the wind taken from her sails, set her hand upon it.
And Sparrow’s eyes lost all their humor as he was surrounded by James’ men.
Gillette asked, rather too eagerly, “Shall we shackle the prisoner, sir?”
“No,” James said. He almost felt sorry for the pirate. Almost. “There’s no need. He has nowhere to run.”
~.~
classics_lover, A Sublime Moment, in which James contemplates his new love, the Interceptor, this one is a short exploration of his thoughts when he learns of her ultimate fate. A last minute entry for the current drabble challenge prompt 'Mercy'...~ Forbearance ~
Swann refused to consider that the distant column of smoke they’d sited at dawn had anything to do with Elizabeth, but James wasn’t so sure.
“I believe we must investigate. It won’t take much time.”
A flash of anger at the delay swept over the governor’s face. Anger, and then despair. “Very well,” was all he said, before turning away.
Their mission had been nearly hopeless from the start, of course, James reflected, and at present felt far more so. How could it be that they would find Elizabeth alive and… unharmed? She was too beautiful and too helpless, for all her spirit, and the hours since she had been taken by Barbossa and his men could now be counted in days.
The wind was in the correct quarter, and within the hour the Dauntless was as close as she could come to the island. The fire blazed and roiled at the opposite end, the approach to which was barred by shoals, and at first they could see nothing except the burning palms at this distance. But just as James prepared to descend to the waiting longboat, he looked through his glass once more and saw… a man.
Sparrow?
James lip curled. It was too far to be sure, but he could have sworn the figure stomping over the nearer dunes moved like that cursed pirate. And the hair was right, that dark, gewgawed tangle, a too-obvious parody of the wigs of the great and powerful.
Sparrow.
Whom James had last seen at the wheel of the Interceptor, waving that disreputable tricorn of his and shouting his mocking thanks.
And where was the Interceptor now?
In that moment, James was tempted to order a grating rigged immediately. A hundred lashes – no, two hundred – prior to hanging would perhaps cure that scoundrel of insolence, of insouciance…
But James set his teeth. Schooled his wrath. Climbed down into the longboat without giving the order, the unusual ferocity of which would so betray his… unrest… to his subordinates.
If that was indeed Sparrow, there would be time enough.
*
It was Sparrow. Hiding behind Elizabeth.
“Commodore, how good it is to see you!” Elizabeth called, smiling as she strode barefoot over the sand straight toward them, elegant and slim even in her salt-stained shift, her eyes flashing – triumph, or a challenge?
James’s men halted behind him as the two parties met, James continuing forward to catch Elizabeth’s outstretched hands. Sparrow had stopped ten feet in back of Elizabeth and was trying to look composed, chin (with those absurd beaded braids) well up, eyes betraying consternation, if not fear.
As well they might.
James began, “Miss Swann, are you—“
“I’m perfectly well, Commodore.” She squeezed his hands sharply. “I assure you.”
He studied her face. She was quite serious, and moreover attempting to communicate additional information.
She elaborated, verbally. “The pirates of the Black Pearl were… frightening, but thankfully they didn’t cause me any real harm. Mr. Sparrow led Will Turner to the Isla de Muerta so he could rescue me, but the Black Pearl was later able to catch us again. They marooned us here at midday yesterday, and Mr. Sparrow has behaved in a most gentlemanly fashion throughout.”
James raised a brow, and raised his eyes to consider Sparrow, who seemed torn between trying to look innocent and pouting at the term gentlemanly. James’ sense of humor, no doubt exacerbated by his relief, bubbled up inappropriately. He ruthlessly snuffed it and glared at the pirate. “Am I correct in assuming that the brig Interceptor is now in Barbossa’s hands?”
Sparrow’s pout turned to real sadness at this, and James knew even before Elizabeth said the words: “No, James. Barbossa destroyed the Interceptor.”
“Blown up a-purpose,” Sparrow said, speaking at last, “and I’m sorry for it. She was a bonny boat. Ship.”
James said, coldly, “She was, indeed. And would be still, if you had not taken her.” Yet he could not help but be a little mollified by Sparrow’s evident grief at the brig’s destruction.
And Elizabeth said, “Commodore! He—and Will—took her to rescue me! Ja—Mr. Sparrow knew where they’d taken me. Please, he must be forgiven that crime at least, he’s saved my life repeatedly! And we must rescue Will. Barbossa kept Will on the Black Pearl, along with Jack’s crew, and I fear that the pirates may show less forbearance to him than they did to me.”
James frowned, wondering why the pirates had kept Turner and discarded Elizabeth and Sparrow – though marooning could have been considered the worse fate. Yet clearly there was more to this story. But it would have to wait.
James said, “As a pirate, Mr. Sparrow’s fate is sealed, whether he is forgiven his more recent crimes or not. The law is clear.” Sparrow looked rather sardonic at this, and Elizabeth swelled to protest, but James cut her off. “Your father will be overjoyed to find you alive and well, Miss Swann, and we would be cruel to delay your reunion further. Prior to that there is no use in discussing the possibility of Mr. Turner’s rescue. I am quite certain your father will have strong views to express on the subject. Shall we repair to the ship?” He held out his arm.
Elizabeth, the wind taken from her sails, set her hand upon it.
And Sparrow’s eyes lost all their humor as he was surrounded by James’ men.
Gillette asked, rather too eagerly, “Shall we shackle the prisoner, sir?”
“No,” James said. He almost felt sorry for the pirate. Almost. “There’s no need. He has nowhere to run.”
~.~