Jack listens like any soul accostumed to the hearing of tales. Eyes trained on Norrington but growing unfocused as the story progresses. Painting the images into his mind's eye and allowing himself to be swept along with the words and Norrington's voice, hollow sounding as it is.
He picks up on what intonations there are, the pauses that result. His mind latches onto the strange phrasing of helped me... find my sea-legs, as it were and wonders briefly if there is something more to that than Norrington admits; but doesn't visibly or aurally react through the telling. Stays, for once, silent and calm and lets the tale wash over him. It is not until the end, the reason as to why Norrington hates pirates, that Jack reacts.
With a bow of his head paying respect to good men and good pirates what face the gallows does he feel his blood run cold. For the first time, Jack begins to wonder if he misjudged Norrington. Gravely misjudged what he could hope to accomplish by keeping the Commodore on board. He once thought it might be possible to take Norrington as a bedmate, as a friend maybe, and in doing so complicate his mind as to whether or not hang Jack. Eliminate a threat. Have a little fun in the doing. But now -- oh now. Jack is beginning to rethink his brilliant plan. He never once stopped to consider that even if Norrington cosidered him a good man, a worthy man; if James considered him a bedmate -- he never considered that the Commodore would still hang him. Out of a damn sense of duty.
Jack feels like spitting on such a disgusting realisation. Feels a deep sadness seep through his bones. Such a waste of valuable life to live in such a society where duty and honour cause the death of good friends. Instead he looks up to catch Norrington's eye and sees the anger still there, the hatred.
He says quietly, "All pirates with a portion of wit allowed to them know that the noose stretching their necks is a likely future for them. Will die not as lubbers die but with blade or pistol or rope." Jack folds himself in half and props his elbows up on his knees. "Know it just as well as you do, if not better. Just decide that it's worth it. Worth living and dying a free man than the other alternative."
He tries to keep his voice even but it hardens of it's own accord when he says other alternative. An obvious disapproval of what Norrington did, and how little he truly understands.
Jack stands, unable to keep sitting there, staring into the face of a blind man, a prejudice man any longer, and walks the length of the cabin to where he keeps a ration of rum. He pulls the bottle from the cupboard and stands there with his back to Norrington before speaking.
"As to your question." Which Jack doesn't want to answer anymore. Doesn't want to give away how stupid he can be, how gullible. But in the name of fair trade feels in necessary to reply anyhow. "I asked you to be first mate... I asked you. Because I thought mates don't hang mates. Even Commodore James Norrington could learn to get on with a pirate and then have no ability to see him swing. Proved me wrong on that."
He uncorks the bottle and takes a long swig, keeping his back to Norrington.
no subject
He picks up on what intonations there are, the pauses that result. His mind latches onto the strange phrasing of helped me... find my sea-legs, as it were and wonders briefly if there is something more to that than Norrington admits; but doesn't visibly or aurally react through the telling. Stays, for once, silent and calm and lets the tale wash over him. It is not until the end, the reason as to why Norrington hates pirates, that Jack reacts.
With a bow of his head paying respect to good men and good pirates what face the gallows does he feel his blood run cold. For the first time, Jack begins to wonder if he misjudged Norrington. Gravely misjudged what he could hope to accomplish by keeping the Commodore on board. He once thought it might be possible to take Norrington as a bedmate, as a friend maybe, and in doing so complicate his mind as to whether or not hang Jack. Eliminate a threat. Have a little fun in the doing. But now -- oh now. Jack is beginning to rethink his brilliant plan. He never once stopped to consider that even if Norrington cosidered him a good man, a worthy man; if James considered him a bedmate -- he never considered that the Commodore would still hang him. Out of a damn sense of duty.
Jack feels like spitting on such a disgusting realisation. Feels a deep sadness seep through his bones. Such a waste of valuable life to live in such a society where duty and honour cause the death of good friends. Instead he looks up to catch Norrington's eye and sees the anger still there, the hatred.
He says quietly, "All pirates with a portion of wit allowed to them know that the noose stretching their necks is a likely future for them. Will die not as lubbers die but with blade or pistol or rope." Jack folds himself in half and props his elbows up on his knees. "Know it just as well as you do, if not better. Just decide that it's worth it. Worth living and dying a free man than the other alternative."
He tries to keep his voice even but it hardens of it's own accord when he says other alternative. An obvious disapproval of what Norrington did, and how little he truly understands.
Jack stands, unable to keep sitting there, staring into the face of a blind man, a prejudice man any longer, and walks the length of the cabin to where he keeps a ration of rum. He pulls the bottle from the cupboard and stands there with his back to Norrington before speaking.
"As to your question." Which Jack doesn't want to answer anymore. Doesn't want to give away how stupid he can be, how gullible. But in the name of fair trade feels in necessary to reply anyhow. "I asked you to be first mate... I asked you. Because I thought mates don't hang mates. Even Commodore James Norrington could learn to get on with a pirate and then have no ability to see him swing. Proved me wrong on that."
He uncorks the bottle and takes a long swig, keeping his back to Norrington.