His first response to Norrington asking to see the map is "no". Giving out bearings, headings, the direction to which they're headed and where they are -- that information is dangerous when placed in the hands of anyone but hisself Jack has learned. Besides, they're his maps. He aqcuired them through his own mannered contribuatory tribulations. Not for sharing, by any means.

Unless Norrington feels fit to share something with him in return. Though Jack isn't sure what equates access to maps. Nothing Norrington can provide him at this moment, he's sure.

"That would be entirely unfitting for a man of your placement on board my ship," Jack answers, keeping his tone as consoling as possible. "What with you being Commodore of the Caribbean Fleet and all."

The maps get slid further away from Norrington on the table, threatening to teeter off the edge. Jack slaps a quick hand over the top pile to keep it stationary.

"Though I must say, you're rather lacking in much Commodorial equivilencies stuck here on the Pearl. Almost make a trip to England bearable, eh? 'Less you just like to keep your fine self away from that what you claim to make you happy."

Jack doesn't mean that as an insult or really even anything more than a passing comment. His attention is more focused on keeping Norrington's thoughts away from looking at his maps and somehow persuading him to suggest they be bound for England. Jack suddenly finds himself infatuated with the idea of bopping around ol' London town with Norrington in tow, away from the clutches of the Navy. He's sure he could show Norrington more sides to that city than he ever dreamed.