Admiral James Norrington: In Memoriam

Chapter 4: The Flying Dutchman

James continued to drift. He was sleeping more, and he failed to keep memory on how long he had been dead and sailing slowly amongst the other dead. Many of them were pirates bombarded by the Flying Dutchman under Beckett's orders. Others were innocent women and children. There was the odd sailor and military man here and there. Seeing them made James cringe. 

What if, along this journey, he came across the many men he inadvertently got killed in the hurricane off of Tripoli in the pursuit of Jack Sparrow? 

Would they forgive him? 

He had been so deeply obsessed with Sparrow's capture back then. He had been rejected and jilted by the woman he loved in favour of a simple blacksmith, and his men had been talking of it behind his back for weeks. Sparrow's constant avoidances of capture only fuelled his lack of rational thought. He had been so desperate to get something right since that day he lost his love and the man he meant to hang. And that obsession lost him everything. 

James spent many a day thinking these daunting and morbid thoughts, when suddenly he heard from far behind him, cheering. He hadn't heard such joyous noise in such a long time. The earliest he could remember was a sound of joy that only brought him despair and heartbreak. It was on Isla Cruces, when Elizabeth happily reunited with Will, kissing him right in front of James, whom being the gentleman he still wished to be, kept silent, but nevertheless remained heartbroken by her rejection and lack of consideration for the man she jilted and cast aside. 

James had a thought then. Elizabeth had shown such little care for him, making a promise she didn't want to keep, breaking the promise in public, showing more interest in Sparrow as opposed to him as well, kissing Will in front of him on that beach, leaving him to die on Isla Cruces almost too easily, and then believing him to be a killer of a man he looked up to like a father. They were hardly the signs of a good friend, let alone a potential wife. 

As his thoughts dwindled, James noticed the cheering getting louder, and looking up again, he saw in the far distance, a much larger boat than the ones he and his fellow dead were perched in. In fact, it was a ship. A splendid looking ship, but it looked very familiar. As the ship drifted closer, James recognised it as the Flying Dutchman, only it didn't have all those grotesque markings of corruption, seaweed and coral, and the sails were a beautiful grey. 

James wondered what had happened. If the Dutchman was in the domain of the dead, was it possible that Elizabeth and her pirate lackeys succeeded and killed off Davy Jones? Was he about to face Jones' disgusting mug again? 

"All aboard!" yelled a voice from aboard the ship. 

There were rope ladders along each side of the ship, at least twenty on each side, and the dead were eagerly climbing up onto the deck, more than happy to be taking part in something different to what they had been putting up with so far since dying. James felt more reserved. He wasn't sure whether to trust the people sailing the Dutchman, but then again, the cacophony of cheering suggested otherwise. 

The ship eventually reached him, and drew level, albeit he was by far smaller. A rope ladder crossed him, and with some reluctance, he gripped onto it and climbed, leaving his faithful but obsolete vessel behind. 

James was helped onto the deck by two crewmen of the Dutchman. He didn't recognise either of them, but he noticed that none of the people on board with some authority or on task had the appearance of some kind of sea creature. They were all as human as he was, assuming he was still human. 

"Welcome back to the Dutchman, Admiral Norrington." said one of the men. 

"You know me?" 

"You won't recognise me now." said the crewman. "I was once Maccus, the first mate that looked like a hammerhead shark."