First Impressions (James Norrington Series) (Book 1)

Trepidation flowed through him while James stood next to his captain on the quarter-deck of the Dauntless, the muscles in his broad back and shoulders fraught with tension. He was waiting in anticipation for Theodore and several other members of the crew to return from their search of the burning wreckage. His eyes and attention focused solely on their silhouettes, which were barely visible and sometimes disappeared within the impenetrable fog. It was the only noticeable sign that the incident put him on edge since he made sure not to show it on his features.

He'd encountered similar grim sights such as this more times than he'd like to admit since he began his career in the navy. His first time had been a passenger's vessel. He and the crew caught sight of the ship in the distance and hadn't been close enough to rescue the poor souls on board from the ruthless onslaught of pirates that had decided to attack them. While trying to reach their location, all they could do was look on powerlessly as everyone was slaughtered and their ship was destroyed. He could still envision the many motionless bodies of innocent men, women, and children bobbing in the water as a result of the carnage. There had been no survivors.

Each time he observed something close to what had happened, it brought forth the memory in his mind and a wide array of emotions such as horror, remorse, and grief. This time was no different. Many innocent lives had been lost once again, and they hadn't been there to stop it. It was hard to stomach. He knew the likelihood of anyone else besides William Turner surviving was slim. The young boy was lucky to have lived through the explosion based on the condition of the ship; it had been completely torn in two.

The question of what had caused the vessel's destruction was still left unanswered, which put him ill at ease as well. As the governor stated, it could have been an accident; merchant ships have been known to be decimated if their powder wasn't stored properly. Many chose not to carry more of it than they needed to because of that very reason. On the other hand, Mr. Gibbs, despite being a questionable source, had given an explanation that was just as plausible; pirates. It was a possibility he couldn't ignore. He'd encountered far too many of them in these waters for him to be comfortable with. In fact, given the state of things, they could still be close to the area, hiding in the mist that was starting to dissipate and waiting for the opportune moment to attack. The vessel and the product it had been carrying was still engulfed in flames, and they'd found Mr. Turner near the remains, meaning the attack took place not long ago. If they chose to strike, Theodore and the men with him could be slain in the cannon fire.

Time seemed to tick by slowly until, at last, the fog disappeared, and Theodore and the crew began making their way back towards the Dauntless. James' eyes were set on their surroundings, but all he could see was the fallen vessel, a few nearby islands, and empty horizons. If there had been a pirate ship close by, it had vanished along with the mist.

He felt a firm hand grip his shoulder and met the gaze of his captain, Blake Saunders. His bright blue eyes were on him as he inspected his facial features. James knew from the small squeeze the man gave his shoulder that he could see the overwhelming anxiety he was feeling despite his best attempts to hide it. Blake had the uncanny skill of being able to read even his best-concealed emotions like an open book when others could not.

"James," he said softly, calling him by his first name instead of his last as he usually did when he was commanding his ship. "Come with me."

"Yes, sir," James replied just as softly with a nod.

Blake Saunders was a tall, lithe middle-aged Irish man with dozens of freckles sprinkling the pale skin on his face. He wore a pristine royal blue and white uniform similar to James' that had a few extra embellishments to denote his position as captain. His short graying red hair was hidden underneath the white powdered wig on top of his head. A black tricorne hat usually sat on top of his head, but it was missing. Without a doubt, he'd chosen not to bother with it after being woken up so abruptly to the news of a merchant's vessel on fire and sinking nearby.

He had the respect of every man on board the Dauntless and anyone else who knew him. When his patience wore thin, one look from him could make a grown man tremble in fear and immediately follow his commands without question. Alternatively, a different glance could have the opposite effect and make one feel reassured and comforted. His mere presence was enough to give the men under his leadership hope, strength, and courage. To James, he had become more like a father to him than his own.

James, Theodore, and Philip had known him since they were small children. He had served with their father's in the Caribbean for many years until Theodore's father and the admiral came back to England to finish off their years in the service. In fact, James couldn't recall a time when Blake hadn't been in their lives. He'd attended many dinners at the Norrington, Gillette, and Groves' homes, not having a family of his own to come back to. The Norrington's, Gillette's, and Groves' had essentially become the family he never had. Theodore even had the tendency of calling him uncle Blake behind closed doors.

After Philip's father's death, the ties he had with their families only strengthened. Out of the three men, Blake seemed to be the one to take his death the hardest. He was also the one who took on the duty of watching over Philip and his family, a promise he made to Philip's father just before he succumbed to his wounds. As a result, he became a surrogate father to Philip and his siblings.

Blake let go of his shoulder and turned to look at the rest of the men under his command. "I want everyone to stay in your positions! We must be ready if pirates are lurking about!"

"Yes, sir!" several shouted in immediate response.

As the command was passed throughout the entire ship, James followed Blake down to the upper gun deck. There they waited with bated breath for Theodore and the rest of the crew to return to the Dauntless. Both men, focusing all their attention on the horizon and the men in the water once more. All they could do was pray for the best and mentally prepare for the worst.

After what felt like an eternity, the boats reached the hull of the ship.

"Throw some rope!" James ordered. "Secure the boats! Haul them aboard!"

The midshipmen scrambled around to find some rope then rushed over to the railing to throw the lines to the men below. A few men stayed on the boats to secure them while most of the others climbed back onto the ship. The muscles in James' taut shoulders and back relaxed a little when Theodore made it safely onto the upper gun deck and took his place in front of himself and Blake.

"Is there no one else that survived?" Blake asked with a frown, noticing that only his men were among those who had climbed back onto the vessel.

James had realized long before they had reached the ship that no one except for members of the crew was inside the boats. Still, he had found himself hoping that his assumption hadn't been right and that they were able to save a few more innocent lives. Howbeit, it would appear from the remorse blanketing Theodore's face that it was all for not.

"I'm afraid not," Theodore replied grimly, confirming James and Blake's suspicions. "Everyone but Mr. Turner was killed."

"I see."

Blake fell silent, his gaze falling onto the wreckage as he turned to face it. He brought his feet together and stood erect as he lifted his right hand to his head and saluted at the people that had lost their lives as a sign of respect. James and Theodore followed suit, only to be joined by the rest of the crew on the upper decks as they took notice of what they were doing.

"May God rest their souls," Blake whispered. He relaxed his stance and looked over at Lieutenant Thatcher, who was standing nearby. "There's nothing more we can do here. Prepare the ship to set sail, but keep the canons ready in case of an attack."

Thatcher nodded and began to shout orders to the rest of the crew.

Blake's gaze fell upon James and Theodore. "We'll have to question the boy if we want to find out anything else. I'll leave that task to the both of you. Report to me when you've discovered something."

"Yes, sir," they replied with a nod of their heads.

James and Theodore were silent as they weaved through the men who were preparing the ship, seeking to reach the center of the deck where the stairs leading into the lower levels of the Dauntless were. Theodore was the first to descend into the ship, grabbing hold of the edge of the opening in the deck floor as a safety precaution when he could. He'd fallen down them one too many times and had started to be more cautious after the last time when he nearly broke his ankle. Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, they stopped for a few moments to look around the first inner floor of the vessel.

Over two dozen twenty-four pound long guns were at all sides of the middle gun deck, poised to attack as their large barrels poked out one of the many open gun holes at the side, front, or back of the ship's hull. Three men, silent as the grave, stood near each one, prepared to take whatever command was given to them. Natural light from the gun holes and entrance of the stairs provided just enough illumination that they didn't need candles. Another fellow lieutenant, Victor Hayden, was near the base of the stairs, observing James and Theodore closely with his chocolate brown eyes while awaiting orders.

Victor Hayden was an attractive man of average height and build. His short blond hair was concealed by a white wig and black tricorne hat. Being a man in the Royal British Navy, he wore an opulent white and blue uniform that matched James and Theodore's. A distinct scar from an old slash wound went from the left side of his forehead and over to his right cheek in a nearly straight line; it was the only thing marring his features.

He had joined the Royal British Navy at the same time as James. In fact, he and James had known each other since they'd begun their schooling. Despite that fact, they were never close. They always spent their time in separate social circles, and neither boy ever saw eye to eye. James and Theodore thought he was pompous and pretentious, especially before he joined the navy.

Victor had been born into a prominent family. His mother was the second cousin of the current British monarchy, King George I of Great Britain. As such, he had the tendency to flaunt his status, as well as his good looks, wherever he went. During his first and only season at court, he dared to pursue James' sister Ann. Thankfully, James didn't need to intervene. Ann had seen enough of his antics that it left a bad taste in her mouth. She openly refused his advances and told him under no uncertain terms that she would never be interested in him. It caused a stir in high-class society for weeks and escalated the bad blood between him and James.

Time and being in the navy has the potential to change people, though. Victor wasn't the same person he was when he and James were recruited two years ago. He quickly came to learn that his status mattered little outside of their social circles. Every one of their superiors treated him the same as everyone else under their command, if not harsher in some ways due to his arrogant attitude. He had also learned the hard way that life was fragile. They'd fought together in several battles against pirates and privateers from different countries, many of which had put them in harm's way. One such time, James ended up saving his life by protecting him from a pirate that was ready to impale him with his sword. It was the same day he received his scar. From that point onward, any animosity they held towards each other slowly shifted into mutual respect as they continued to fight side by side. He had saved James' life as many times as James saved his. Furthermore, Victor stopped acting as though he was better than everyone else and became less insufferable to be around. There were still times, however, that his vanity showed through, especially if he was trying to impress someone from the fairer sex.

"What's happening?" Victor asked, stepping over to them expectantly. "I heard that the ship is being prepared to set sail, but the captain wants us to keep the long guns ready. Did someone spot something?"

James shook his head. "No. It's merely a precaution until we have a better understanding of what happened."

"Were there any other survivors? I saw the boy as Lewis and Sampson carried him down to the Orlop deck. He looked like he was on death's door."

"No," Theodore replied, a frown once again coming to his lips. "Everyone else perished in the explosion."

A somber expression appeared on Victor's face. "I see... So the boy is the only one who can tell us what took place."

"We're on our way to speak with him at this moment," James said. "With any hope, we'll discover what caused the explosion soon."

Victor nodded in understanding. "Then, don't let me keep you any further," he said as he took a step back to get out of their way. "The sooner we find out what's going on, the better."

James and Theodore nodded in agreement, then walked over to the next set of stairs and headed further into the ship to the lower gun deck below. It was darker than the previous level since the only natural light was coming from the holes where the long guns were situated. The men were in the same state as the others as they waited for their orders. Several close by gazed over at them expectantly. Lieutenant Parker was near the stairs and gave them a nod of acknowledgment but didn't stop them as they continued down to the lowest floor of the ship.

Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, it took their eyes a few moments to adjust to the darkness enveloping the lowest level of the vessel. The Orlop deck was void of any cannons or natural light since it was below the waterline and had to be lit with candlelight when in use. It was mainly used to store food and the long lines of cables that were piled on the floor in various places across the deck or to relocate the wounded who could no longer fight.

James and Theodore looked around until they noticed a soft light coming from the very back of the ship where the cockpit was. They quietly made their way towards it, being careful to not trip on any cables on the way.

William Turner was on the floor at the right side of the room, propped up on a makeshift bed that was in front of one of the curved beams of the hull. His legs were visibly trembling from underneath the various wool blankets he'd been given to warm his chilled body. The ship's surgeon, a plump and stout middle-aged man, had his back to them while kneeling over the boy and watching over him to make sure he didn't die from cold. Governor Swann and his daughter were standing a few feet away facing their direction, closely observing the scene with their eyebrows furrowed in worry.

The boy's upper body, which had been hidden by the surgeon's frame, became visible as he and Theodore approached them, and James couldn't help but take in the sight of him for a second time. He looked defenseless and vulnerable as his small, frail form shook uncontrollably, trying to compensate for the heat it had lost when he was trapped in the water. And his skin was a deathly pale hue, even in the warm light of the lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The oversized dark blue military uniform he'd been changed into to keep him warm and dry only served to make his appearance worse.

When they stopped at his side, James paused. The image before him was enough to bring forth a memory he'd long tried to forget and forever push from his mind. As he'd come to learn every time he had the unfortunate chance of seeing a child in this state, however, it was something he would never truly be rid of.

"You stupid brat. You should have let yourself drown, boy!"

The same questions he'd been asking himself for years came to his mind. Was this how he looked when his father uttered those words to him? How could a man tell that to a child, let alone a father to his own flesh and blood?

He'd fallen off his father's ship during a pirate attack and nearly drown when he was six years old. James could still feel the biting coldness of the water and remember the overwhelming fear that had surged through him as he helplessly began to sink into the oceans' chilling embrace. His saving grace had been a pair of warm hands that had taken hold of him and pulled him from the water before he was lost. He shook from the cold just as Turner was when he was back on board and coughed out water that had made its way into his lungs, but felt relieved to know that he was alive. His relief was short-lived. Those words and the ones that followed would forever be engrained inside of his heart and mind.

"I would have rather that than a Norrington smeared with the taint of being indebted to a pirate!"

A pirate had saved him, and that truth was more important than his very life. It had brought as much shame as it did pain, knowing his father would have preferred for him to die and that he'd become disgusted and disappointed with him. Blake was the only one who dared to try to talk some sense into him, but the damage had been done. From that moment on, their relationship was never the same. Shame, humiliation, bitterness, hurt, and a black mark from his past had forever tainted it.

"Not all pirates are horrible people!"

Why must her words choose now to haunt him? He didn't need to be reminded that at least one such man existed among them. He'd worked many years to subjugate the very thought. Hadn't he seen enough of what they were capable of to erase any doubts he once held?

"Will he be all right?" Theodore asked, just as concerned about the boy's wellbeing as the rest of them were.

His question was enough to push the memory to the back of James' mind, along with Miss Lovelace's words, as he shifted his focus onto the present situation.

With a distinct frown on his lips, the surgeon stood and took his blue eyes off of Mr. Turner to look at them gravely. "I don't know. He's caught a chill from being in the water for too long. We will have to wait and see if he will catch his death of cold."

James, knowing that time was of the essence, spoke with urgency in his voice. "Has he said anything else since he was taken down here? Captain Saunders wishes to know more about what caused the explosion, and he is the only one left who can tell us."

"No one else survived?" the surgeon asked in disbelief and horror.

Theodore was about to respond, but William Turner's stuttering voice burst out first. "P-pirates!"

Everyone's attention turned to the boy as their eyes widened in surprise. His chocolate brown eyes were wide open as he tried to force himself to sit up. James quickly knelt down next to him and placed his hands firmly on the boy's shoulders to stop him from proceeding further.

"Stop," he said with concern. "You must conserve your strength."

Instead of listening, Turner brought a shaky hand up to grip onto his arm with desperation, worry, and fear etching his face.

"P-pirates attacked us," he explained, his voice faltering as he lost strength.

"Pirates?" the surgeon asked, turning pale.

"Are you certain?" Governor Swann replied with alarm.

James felt his chest tighten as he stared searchingly into his eyes while the young boy somehow continued to hold onto his arm.

He was, against his will, instantly reminded of what had happened all those years ago on his father's ship once more. Only this time, the boy's eye color and features brought his little brother, Nicholas, to the forefront of his mind, and he had taken James' place. But, in this instance, something far more detrimental had come to pass.

It was a fear that had been ruminating inside of James' mind for years, ever since his father had taken Nicholas out to sea for the first time. He had and was still worried something terrible might happen to him while under his father's supervision, whether it was him falling off the ship or worse. It wasn't hard to imagine Nicholas in Turner's place, and it unsettled him.

His whole body became tense as he frowned. "Pirates?" James finally asked, bringing himself back to the situation at hand. "You were attacked by pirates?"

"Y-yes, they suddenly c-came up out of nowhere in the mist and-and attacked us. W-we didn't have a ch-chance."

James promptly looked over at Theodore from over his shoulder. "Inform the captain immediately. We need to keep a wary eye out in case they make another appearance."

Theodore nodded, then rushed out of the cockpit and headed towards the stairs. James gazed back down at the terrified boy as he continued to stare up at him in distress and felt his resolve to fight against piracy strengthen. The doubt that had entered his heart after his conversation with Miss Lovelace became nonexistent as his sense of duty and desire to protect the innocent took over.

Miss Swann stepped forward and took hold of the hand that was still clinging onto James' arm to try to comfort him. Turner gave her a feeble smile in response, grateful for her kind gesture.

Wishing to help ease the boy's worries, he lightly squeezed his shoulders and spoke. "You are onboard the Dauntless, Mr. Turner, one of the King's ships of the line," James informed him gently, causing both children to look at him again. "If there is another attack, we are well prepared to fight them. You are in safe hands."

"T-thank you, sir," he replied weakly.

James released him and stood. "Take care of him," he said to the surgeon. "We do not need to lose another innocent life to those scoundrels."

"Of course."

Determination coursed through him as James turned around and began to make his way back up to the upper levels of the ship. The conversation with Miss Lovelace played through his mind once more, but this time he knew his answer.

The means would never justify the end, no matter their reasons. Anyone willing to perform an act of piracy could never have a conscience and was as wicked as the rest. Just as one good deed was not enough to redeem a man or woman of a lifetime of wickedness, a single act of piracy was enough to condemn them. And he would make sure they all hung from the gallows. For all of their kind deserved a short drop and a sudden stop.