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Inside the carriage, Elizabeth Swann sat in stormy silence. Will Turner was so aggravating ! To act so proper and poised. How could he do it? Did he not want to smile? To joke with her as they once had?
The carriage made its way into Port Royal and toward Fort Charles, where Norrington's ceremony was to take place. But Elizabeth did not notice the beautiful sea or the bustling town. Her mind was still back in the foyer.
From his seat opposite hers in the carriage, Governor Swann spoke.
"Dear," he said, "I do hope you demonstrate a bit more decorum in front of Commodore Norrington. It is only through his efforts that Port Royal has become at all civilized."
Elizabeth did not reply. Instead, she turned and stared out at the sea. She wished she were free of this life and its "decorum." Free to sail away and not look back.
Meanwhile, at that moment, unseen by Elizabeth Swann or her father, a man who was already free sailed into Port Royal. Though perhaps "sailed" was not the most accurate of terms.
Standing atop the yardarm of a small fishing dory named the Jolly Mon , Captain Jack Sparrow surveyed the town of Port Royal. His tricornered hat sat jauntily atop his head, revealing the hint of a red bandanna beneath. When he smiled, the sun glinted off his several gold teeth. On almost every one of his fingers flashed a ring, and bits of silver and other trinkets hung from his brown, dreadlocked hair.
Looking down, Jack noticed that the Jolly Mon was no longer sailing on top of the water so much as through it. The boat was sinking.
Jack jumped from the yardarm to the deck and felt water soak into his knee-high boots. The deck was overrun with water. Quickly, he searched through the deck's clutter and found a bucket. Picking it up, he began to bail.
While Jack bailed, the Jolly Mon continued to sail into Port Royal's harbor. Quietly it slipped by a rocky outcropping from which five skeletons hung from nooses. One wore a sign that read: PIRATES—BE YE WARNED. Pausing, Jack Sparrow took off his hat and placed it above his heart—a moment of exaggerated respect for the doomed pirates.
The harbor of Port Royal was crowded with boats. There were fishing vessels of all sizes, but the most impressive was the HMS Dauntless , which lay at anchor in the tranquil waters. Her fifty cannons were quiet, but even at peace, she was an imposing vessel. Jack Sparrow took his time surveying the Dauntless before his eye was caught by a smaller vessel—the HMS Interceptor . The Interceptor was nowhere near the size of the Dauntless , but she was sleek and speedy. Glancing at the ship, Jack Sparrow's eyes sparked, but then he turned and focused on the task at hand—namely, docking.
Unfortunately, docking was going to be difficult, as the Jolly Mon was now almost completely underwater. Only the small portion of the mast and yardarm Jack had climbed back up on remained above water. With comic precision, Jack reached the dock just as the tip of the mast completely disappeared beneath the water. Stepping onto the dock, he came face-to-face with a very confused harbormaster.
"Hold up there, ye!" the harbormaster shouted. "It's a shilling to tie up your boat."
Jack glanced at him quizzically and then looked over his shoulder at the now fully submerged Jolly Mon . Not bothering to answer the harbormaster, Jack shrugged and attempted to move on.
But the harbormaster would not let him pass. "Rules are rules. And, I'll need to know your name."
A young boy who had been following the harbormaster opened up a ledger. Looking at it, Jack pulled out a coin purse and threw a few coins onto the open book.
"What do you say to three shillings, and we forget the name?" Jack asked.
For a moment, the harbormaster just stared at Jack, a mixture of disbelief and annoyance etched on his face. Then, thinking better of it, he closed the ledger. "Welcome to Port Royal… Mr. Smith."
High above the harbor, inside the walls of Fort Charles, Norrington stood at attention. He was dressed in the uniform of a commodore of the Royal Navy, and looked every bit the nautical hero he was. Standing before him was Governor Swann. With choreographed precision, Swann presented the sword and scabbard Will Turner had delivered earlier to the newly appointed commodore.
With a swish of the sword, Commodore Norrington saluted the governor before turning to his officers and the rest of the crowd that had assembled for the ceremony.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth Swann struggled to breathe. With every breath she took, the corset seemed to tighten around her ribs. The fan she held in her hand whipped back and forth as she tried to stay upright. In front of her, Norrington continued to preen, clearly enjoying his moment. As for Elizabeth? She did not know how much longer she could remain standing.
Back at the docks, Jack Sparrow was having no trouble breathing. In fact, everything seemed to be slipping into place perfectly. After disembarking from the Jolly Mon , he headed toward the navy dock. There, the Interceptor was anchored in all her beauty. Guarding her berth were two of the Royal Navy's dimmest marines—Murtogg and Mullroy. The two men wore the uniform of the navy, but instead of helping the duo command respect, their clothes somehow made them seem comical. Their bumbling personalities were not suited for such official attire. Murtogg's belly strained at his coat, and Mullroy's white pants seemed a bit too baggy for him. While the officers were up at Fort Charles watching Norrington's promotion to commodore, Murtogg and Mullroy had been assigned to guard the Interceptor .
As he swayed over to the marines, Jack Sparrow took in #*everything—from the Interceptor 's hull to the blank expression on the men's faces. Taking the Interceptor was going to be easier than he had hoped.
"This dock is off-limits to civilians," Murtogg said as soon as Jack walked up.
"Didn't know," Jack said, as the sound of drums and trumpets drifted down from the fort above. "Some sort of high-toned and fancy affair up at the fort? How could it be that your good selves did not rate an invitation?"
Murtogg glared at the poorly dressed stranger. "Someone has to make sure this dock stays off-limits to civilians," he explained.
Jack paused and looked past the guards at the Interceptor . Swaying slightly, he reached out to run his fingers along her sides. "This must be some important boat," he said casually. While he was well aware of nautical terminology, it behooved him to play dumb. And playing dumb with two nitwits was quite an enjoyable game.
At the word "boat," Mullroy rolled his eyes. Clearly they were dealing with a silly civilian who did not know the bow from the stern. "Ship," he pointed out. Then he proudly added, "Commodore Norrington's made it his flagship. He'll use it to hunt down the last dregs of piracy on the Spanish Main."
Jack reached up and played with the goatee that hung from his chin. It was a habit of his from long days at sea. Twisting it around, he waited a moment before responding.
"It seems to me a ship like that," Jack said, turning to motion toward the Dauntless , "makes this one here a wee superfluous."
"Oh, the Dauntless is the power in these waters, true enough—but there's no ship as can match the Interceptor for speed," Mullroy pointed out, sounding pleased to know so much about his navy's ships.
"That so," Jack said, once again looking thoughtfully at the Interceptor . "I've heard of one, supposed to be fast, nigh uncatchable… the Black Pearl ?"
Mullroy let out a laugh. The Black Pearl was a legend, an old ghost story told to young children to scare them. Even Mullroy knew not to be afraid of a ship that no one had ever seen—no less sailed on. This wobbling man with the bad teeth and a worn-out jacket was clearly not thinking straight. Mullroy pushed aside any thoughts that the man might be a threat and amended his original comment, "There's no real ship as can match the Interceptor ."
"The Black Pearl is a real ship," argued Murtogg. "I've seen it."
Mullroy rolled his eyes. Now even his fellow marine was going loopy. The pair continued to argue back and forth, each one convinced the other was wrong. "You've seen a ship with black sails that's crewed by the damned and captained by a man so evil that hell itself spat him back out?" Mullroy asked as the argument continued to rage.
Murtogg looked down at his boots and shook his head no. Turning to tell Jack that he was right, there was no ship that could beat the Interceptor , Mullroy gasped. Jack was gone!
While the two had been arguing about the evidence for the existence—or lack thereof—of a ship with black sails, Jack had casually sauntered aboard the Interceptor . He now stood at the wheel of the ship, examining the compass and other instruments necessary for sailing the vessel. Hearing the marines approach, Jack glanced over at them, feigning surprise.
"Get away from there!" Mullroy shouted. "You don't have permission to be aboard."
"I'm sorry," Jack said innocently as the two ran up the gangplank and boarded the deck. "It's just such a pretty boat… ship."
Murtogg and Mullroy had had enough.
"What's your name?" Murtogg demanded.
"Smith. Or Smitty if you like," Jack answered.
"What's your business in Port Royal, Mr. Smith?" Mullroy asked.
"And no lies!" Murtogg added.
Jack smiled. If it was truth this bumbling duo wanted, it was truth he would give them. "I confess: I intend to commandeer one of these ships, pick up a crew in Tortuga, and do a little honest pirating."
Standing aboard the Interceptor , Murtogg and Mullroy exchanged confused glances. But they were prevented from any further discussion of Jack's plans for any ships by a commotion from above. Looking up, the three men watched as a young woman teetered on the edge of Fort Charles's imposing wall. For a moment, it appeared she would be fine. But suddenly, her arms flew up and she fell, hitting the water below with a mighty splash.