At the banquet, the ragged Norrington wolfed down the food.
While eating, he recounted his experience.
"After falling into the sea during the battle, I passed out. When I woke, I found myself drifting to a small island."
"Luckily, someone on the island saved me. I recuperated there, and finally managed to come back when a merchant ship passed by!"
Norrington was slovenly and ate at lightning speed, so Beckett had no doubt about his story.
"It must have been hard on you," Beckett consoled.
Norrington took a huge swig of wine to wash the food down, secretly delighted to hear those words.
He's hooked.
It wasn't in vain that Fang Yuan, upon hearing Beckett was coming, really threw him onto that island to fend for himself; without the occasional scraps, Norrington would have starved.
So the scene Beckett saw now was no exaggeration, greatly boosting the credibility of Norrington's words.
"You've barely escaped with your life—what are your plans now?" Beckett probed, keeping a straight face.
Norrington realized the critical moment had arrived and quickly stood up.
"Return to the Navy, of course, sir!"
"My defeat at the hands of the Black Emperor Pirates is my disgrace," Norrington said through gritted teeth—this part was now partly heartfelt.
"So I must crush the Black Emperor Pirates and redeem myself and the Royal Navy!" he declared loudly.
Beckett was overjoyed; in a Caribbean Sea overshadowed by the Black Emperor Pirates' fame, he currently lacked daring Commanders, which was why he favored Norrington so much.
He had worried that after a life-and-death crisis Norrington might turn timid like the rest and fear the Black King.
He hadn't expected the earlier defeat to stoke Norrington's fighting spirit—this suited Beckett perfectly.
He was certainly capable at grand strategy, but when it came to actual naval combat, it was an eyesore.
After all, at the end of pirates of the caribbean 3, he watched helplessly as his flagship Effort was caught between black pearl and The Flying Dutchman; the enemy opened fire yet Beckett never issued the order to return fire.
Perhaps at that moment Beckett felt that since he had lost to pirates, he should accept defeat gracefully.
But anyone with the slightest military talent would not have allowed two pirate ships to get point-blank.
That was why Norrington's appearance was so precious; Beckett had officers, but few like Norrington who feared the Black King not one bit.
And Norrington's surprises for Beckett didn't end there.
After eating and drinking his fill, Norrington talked eloquently about the lessons he'd learned fighting the Black Emperor Pirates.
"A ship-of-the-line only reaches peak combat power within a fleet; alone, it easily falls to the enemy's wolf-pack tactics..."
"We should build a mighty fleet centered on Effort—then no pirates could stand against us!"
Beckett found every suggestion sound, and felt he'd truly found a treasure.
So Beckett immediately appointed Norrington as Fleet Commander.
"With our combined strength, we can surely bury the swaggering Black Emperor Pirates beneath the sea for good!" Beckett said, full of confidence in Norrington.
Yet as he turned away, he missed the complex look in Norrington's eyes.
Bury them in the sea?
The sea might just bury you instead.
"After all, the sea is the hardest thing to fathom."
"On the Black Pearl, Jack sighed.
He had just told the crew Davy Jones's tale—how he had once been human, fallen in love with the sea-goddess Calypso, volunteered to the ten-year ban from land, was cruelly betrayed, and finally broke the bargain to become the Octopus Monster.
Since a clash with Davy Jones was now inevitable, Jack no longer hid the intelligence.
"I heard the Black King say that when Davy Jones went to keep the rendezvous, Calypso couldn't be bothered because she was busy he-he-he with someone else, and the Black King even wondered if she was with you—" Gibbs's words cut off abruptly.
Jack leapt up. "Impossible—I never bedded a sea goddess!"
"What if she was in disguise?" Gibbs asked.
Jack fell silent; that wasn't impossible—he'd never met a port he hadn't dallied in.
"Fine, suppose I did bed a sea goddess..." Jack conceded, "but definitely not on the day Davy Jones kept that appointment—never!"
He knew the difference between a sailor jumping ship and a rival stealing a lover.
"Liar!" the parrot on old Cotton's shoulder suddenly squawked. "Liar!"
"Cotton, if that bird keeps babbling, I'll roast it for dinner!" Jack fumed.
Cotton merely shrugged and walked off with the parrot.
They all knew Jack was blustering—he couldn't even handle Barbossa's monkey, let alone a flying parrot.
Still, the relaxed mood on the black pearl was because they were nearly at their destination.
Jack opened his compass; the needle pointed dead ahead at the island.
"Circle the island!" he ordered.
The black pearl swept around it, yet the compass needle swung to match, forever locked on that one patch of land.
Clack!
Jack snapped the lid shut and swept his arm. "To shore!"
The ever-jaunty Pintel hurried to ask his partner Ragetti, "D'you think it's real this time? What if it's just another stash of Rum?"
One-eyed Ragetti shook his head. "Should be real—our Rum's not gone yet."
The crew lacked confidence, but Jack brimmed with it; he knew he hadn't miscalculated. After all, Davy Jones's threat was breathing down his neck—Old Turner had told him the Kraken was already sniffing for him.
He had no wish to feed the great octopus.
Jack strode ahead, following the compass to a stretch of sand, triple-checked, then ordered his men to dig.
"We've hit something!"
Moments later the Black Pearl's crew uncovered something hard and hauled it free.
"That's a mighty big box—does Davy Jones's heart really come economy-size?" Ragetti's right eye was glass; he rubbed so hard it popped clean out.
"Idiot, the real chest has a lock—this doesn't!" Jack flipped the lid; inside lay a smaller metal casket.
He lifted it to his ear.
Thud… thud… thud…
The heavy, steady heartbeat rang out, and Jack's grin split his face.
"That's it!"
He set the box on the sand, drew his pistol, and pressed the muzzle to the lock.
"Key? Who needs one?"
Bullets are master keys.
Bang!
Clink!
A sharp chime; the ball ricocheted, nearly plugging the glass-eyed Ragetti as he stooped for his orb.
Jack snatched up the chest—blast it, the lock hadn't even scratched.
"Blast!" Jack cursed.
Clearly the box was spell-bound; only the key would open it.
"Move, move—back to the ship!" Captain Jack called, waving his crew into retreat.
If the chest bore magic, forcing it might alert Davy Jones—and then they'd never leave.
Better hand the box to Fang Yuan; let him face the Kraken when it arrives, Jack thought.
The Black Pearl's crew scrambled aboard; they'd seen their Captain's gift for attracting trouble.
Count the sea's dead by the thousand—Jack's responsible for half.
No idle boast, that saying.
Jack was right: the gunshot had triggered a chain-reaction—just not with Davy Jones.
In a wooden shack crammed with oddities, a placard on the table toppled.
A dark-skinned, dread-locked Witch noticed at once.
"No—too soon!"
"Someone has shifted fate!"
Tia Dalma, the Witch, hissed, "Not allowed—the sea has been chained too long!"
Tia Dalma was famed among pirates as a Witch, yet her greater title was Calypso, goddess of the sea.
After she and Davy Jones quarreled, Jones revealed to the nine Pirate Lords how to bind her; the pirates voted to trap Calypso within a mortal body in exchange for calmer seas.
Tia Dalma was that mortal—her true identity unknown even to the Brethren.
Though nearly all her divine power was sealed, Tia Dalma thrived among pirates through uncanny clairvoyance.
Yet she far preferred freedom to life as a mere Witch.
In the tale as it should have run, the Pirate Lords would free Calypso when Lord Beckett pressed them, hoping she would crush the Royal Navy.
But after the earlier omen, Tia Dalma sensed the ending had veered off course.
"The navy cannot lose to pirates—that will not do."
Tia Dalma murmured to herself.
That night the Kraken, asleep in the depths, suddenly dreamed of his goddess.
"Calypso?"
Davy Jones's head was an octopus, tiny tentacles dangling; his left arm had become a crab's claw.
Yet in the dream he wore his human face once more.
He looked skyward, sensing a familiar presence.
"Do you still love me, Davy Jones?" Calypso's voice asked.
"Of course—I gave you my very heart," Jones answered.
But Calypso's voice carried sorrow: "No, your heart is no longer with me… nor in your own chest."
The familiar presence drifted away; Davy Jones reached, but caught only emptiness.
"Calypso!"
He shouted, jolting awake.
An octopus tentacle rose to wipe the tear from his eye.
"The heart…?"
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