| ⚔ || whatdidheuseforrope |
Will’s nostrils widened in anger, and he closed his fists, more than annoyed by the commodore’s disdainful behavior. It made him recall his life in Port Royal. Though it had been peaceful, the blacksmith had never forgotten the condescension, the patronizing way in which the higher class had looked to him - if they had even looked at all.
No longer. He was a pirate now, and though he could hardly be regarded as a dutiful citizen anymore, he had faced to many dangers and overcome to many obstacles to bow and bite his tongue again. Abruptly, he rose, and throw a sea-soaked rag at the man’s hands.
— “Here. Tend to it yourself, commodore. I trust you know how to do it.”
Norrington caught the rag only barely, sending a wordless glare in Will’s direction. The effects of the rum were still upon him though the former Commodore did what he could to play it off. He would not allow himself to be trampled on by these people, no matter what his social station currently was.
This was no longer a matter of family honour, and for once, neither were James’s thoughts fixed on Elizabeth. Tortuga had been the turning point for many a man’s life before him, and Norrington was no exception. The loss of the Dauntless had changed him, and certainly not for the better. Norrington had become a bitter man, mad at the world for the hand she had dealt him. He depended on no one and refused help, retreating into himself for what assistance his weakened body and soul could produce.
— “It’s former Commodore now,” James’s face was darkly expressionless, “Wouldn’t want you to be confused where my place in the world is, Mr. Turner.”
