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| Unpleasant Tasks; 29 June 1751 (Mutiny +1) | |
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| Topic Started: 17 Mar 2008, 02:20 PM (509 Views) | |
| James Norrington | 17 Mar 2008, 02:20 PM Post #1 |
Norrington, James Norrington
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Norrington & St Montgomery ; Following the events of Taking Her a Prize & The Start of it All Norrington took the brief moment of respite to close his eyes and rubbed tiredly at his temples. All in all...he was not sure that the day, nor any of the meetings could have gone any worse than possible. He looked up to see yet another man approaching him already. Typical. At least he wouldn't have to put up with it for much longer, that much he was sure of. So far, in between touring the fort to see the damage, receiving lists of casualty reports, beginning the preparations for...court martial, he had been about ready to fall to the ground and start kicking and screaming like a temperamental two-year-old. He'd already been ready to do that when the various well-connected men in town had decided to start showing up to verbally assault him with their grievances. First had been Mr Pritchard, one of the business men and merchants on the island, coming first to complain about damage done to his warehouse during the mutiny, to submit him with a list of damaged goods, for which he expected just compensation, the normally calm commodore had nearly lost his temper then and very nearly body-checked the man into the wall after that. Of course, Norrington was half-sorry now that he had not. At least it would have shut the man up and kept him from continuing her infernal complaining, when it was quite clear to any blind man who might have happened by, that Norrington had much more important matters to attend to. Instead, the man had continued his tirade, loudly, about how frightened his family had been, and all his workers, and how, were it possible under the law, he would be demanding the compensation from the Royal Navy for emotional trauma. Emotional. Trauma. Norrington had bit his tongue so hard it had bled. Unfortunately, Mr Pritchard was simply the first in a long line of men who had complaints regarding the mutiny, and who were apparently feeling like it was no longer too dangerous to venture forth into the streets of Port Royal, and speak with the commodore. The worst part was what was yet to come. Norrington had little doubts as to who one of the men most affected by the mutiny was, aside from himself. Lord Beckett had managed to make himself enemy number one of the Marines, and no doubt damage had been done to his property. It was due to that, that he was counting off the seconds until His Lordship was sure to arrive and ask, nay, demand some time to speak. If he even bothered to the demands, and didn't simply kidnap him off to speak to him. The waiting, the anxiety before the meeting was the worst part, and surely Beckett must have known that, for that was the only reason he could fathom for why the man had yet to show up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur of brown, and he knew that it meant trouble. He'd ordered all civilians to be rounded up and moved out of the fort the last time he had to restrain himself from committing murder. He turned, and standing off to the side, was Beckett's skulking clerk. He tipped his hat at Norrington, and smiled. Norrington repressed the urge to shudder...that man had one of the eeriest smiles he had ever seen, and there was something about him, what it was he couldn't say, but it just made him feel...odd. Midshipman Evans...what the devil was he doing here? Was quick to approach Norrington and try to capture his CO's attention. “S-s-sir,” he stammered, waiting for Norrington's nod. “Cap'n St Montgomery is here to speak with you, sir, in your office.” Oh, for the love of God! Norrington muttered one choice curse and stalked off to his office. If it hadn't been the marines who had been guilty of the mutiny he would have easily thought it an attempt by St Montgomery to undermine his authority once again. That man saw the difference in their ranks as purely ceremonial, and barely meriting mention. He must have slept with the man's sister or someone to be the target of such antipathy from the man. So, instead of doing work that would need to be done, he'd have to waste his valuable time by listening to St Montgomery's complaint of the week. On the other hand...St Montgomery he could deal with, Beckett was another matter entirely. |
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| Frederick St Montgomery | 18 Mar 2008, 08:12 PM Post #2 |
Rear Admiral of the Fleet
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St Montgomery paced Norrington's office, pausing to look out curiously over at one of the papers on the desk before straightening and resuming his pacing. the cuffs of his shirt were rubbing against his wrists enough to cause some discomfort, and to remind him of exactly why he was here. Normally, St Montgomery loathed having to go through Norrington for anything, because of the fluke that he was his commanding officer, but right now if it was going to be the only way he could get what he'd want, then he'd bloody well go down on the man if he had to. Right before turning him in the Heyworth, of course. The way St Montgomery heard it, the latest actions of the Marines, and who ever knew that they would unknowingly and unwittingly prove themselves useful for once, had angered a lot more than the weak and pathetic men who styled themselves as Port Royal's elite. There was the matter of the East India Company, and of course that the whole mutiny had happened, let alone gone on as long as it did. Being more than familiar with how the Navy viewed mutiny, and having been witness to how they almost inevitably always sided with the officers who were mutinied upon, Norrington still had a lot in his favour. However, given the rising influence of commercial influences in Port Royale, and what was to be their inevitable domination in politics, St Montgomery was willing to bet that Norrington would wield little power after this alll played out. A pleasant thought, however, Norrington still had some very real power that St Montgomery needed at the moment. St Montgomery curled his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms. That bloody fool Gillette had better watch out, he thought, determined to win out and get back the men who had mutinied on his ship and have them put to death immediately. It was his discretion, and had he been at sea, where he did not have to put up with the likes of that pathetic humanist and his poodle, then he would have rightly executed the men then and there for being too grave a threat to allow to live, especially as they were no doubt still trying to sew the seeds of mutiny, yet again. The door was open, and St Montgomery was just reaching the shelves on the end of the room facing away from the door, when he heard Norrington's steps outside the door. He turned around to face the glorified captain, when he entered the room. "If you please," he said, his tone not at all sincere and with ample bite, "I want the mutineers from Proserpina released at once to my authority, so that they may be put to death as the Articles demand!" If Norrington noticed the raising of St Montgomery's volume at the end of the sentence, he did not show such on his face. Instead he walked to his desk and stood behind it, waiting a few moments for the Post-Captain's temper to cool. "Captain," he said, neutrally, "I have been informed by Captain Gillette that he took custody of the prisoners and transferred them to his vessel." "Which was not his right!" "Which was his right because he clearly could not have left them in your custody unless we wished for their corpses to stand trial!" Norrington snapped. He felt rather mean and low, and was in no mood to put up with St Montgomery's insubordination. St Montgomery, stiffened slightly, taken aback by Norrington's uncharacteristic loss of temper. Then he smiled. He'd managed to get Norrington riled up, that was a point. "Those men are guilty. You know it. I know it. That simpering fool Gillette knows it. The trial is a formality that is simply a waste of time and resources. You, you claim to be the champion of the people," he said, still not sure why Norrington would bother or want to bother to be such, but right now, so long as it worked in his favour, he was going to use it, "how is it championing the people to deny them justice for a few more days when they need it now? It wasn't just our men killed, it was civilians, or are you just another charlatan using that as an excuse to placate the public and have them blindly support you. Or is that just what you tell the Governor, in hopes that it will raise your position in his daughter's eyes?" By the end of the speech, St Montgomery managed to work his way over to the desk, and now it was the only thing separating him from the commodore. An extremely angry commodore. "This is not about me, Captain, it's about you and your ego, and satisfying your demands for revenge," Norrington said, his voice cold, and with a slight edge that spoke to how much of his anger he was attempting to restrain. "The men are not to be executed until they have been heard before the court, and they are determined to be guilty." "And it is--" St Montgomery attempted interpose. "It is not, and so help me, Mr St Montgomery, if you so much as say one more word about this, or if I even hear that you were near any of the prisoners, I will personally add your name to the list of mutineers! Do I make myself clear?" St Montgomery took a step back, and mockingly saluted. "Perfectly, sir." |
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| Royal Navy & Marines | 18 Mar 2008, 11:54 PM Post #3 |
Master of Puppets
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 The crowd of wounded in the hospital was finally gone. Doctor Finch had worked throughout the night, tending to the men as best he could, while weary fatigue parties had collected the dead from around the fort and town. It had been a long night for all of them, really. Cartwright paused outside the hospital's archway, noting the absence of sentries at the entrance, just as he had each time he'd visited the building over the course of the night. The men had held up remarkably well, considering the hours they had been waiting for treatment and the pain that their wounds had to be causing them. They'd performed brilliantly, beyond any expectations, but Cartwright knew they'd only be regarded as unreliable at best by the same town they had bled and died protecting. He rubbed at his eyes and winced when his cuff dragged across the untended gash on his cheek. He'd forgotten about that. The previous night had kept him busy so that he'd forgotten both of his wounds, which fortunately weren't especially grievous. A gash on his face from a ricocheting musket ball and a furrow across his ribs from a bayonet. These, taken with the various bruises and scrapes, made his entire body ache. The simple act of walking back across the fort after retrieving the wounded and dead tally was something of a trial. Not, he mused, that the single bit of parchment in his hand made the journey any less unpleasant. In the work-offices, the signs of the previous day's combat were still everywhere. The walls in particular were chipped and scored. The remains of a desk had been pushed against the wall just inside the door, mostly covering a patch of dark, dried blood. A marine called Corbett had fallen there. Cartwright remembered that scene perhaps most vividly. It gave the parchment in his hand that much more grim significance and made him hate it all the more. There was a bored-looking sentry standing outside the Commodore's office, one of the Kingston marines that had arrived early that morning. At Cartwright's approach, the sentry stamped his heels together and stared at the Londoner's stained shirt and dirty face. Cartwright ignored him entirely and, pausing only to tug half-heartedly at the hem of his coat to straighten it, rapped twice at the half-open door. "Report from Doctor Finch, sir," the acting-captain announced wearily as he entered the office. He stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted the unmistakable bulk of Captain St Montgomery, standing near the Commodore's desk. His face flushed hot where it wasn't streaked with black powder and dried blood and he looked down sharply at his shoes. "Sorry sir, didn't know you were in a meeting," he muttered, backing toward the door. Most of the garrison knew by now what had transpired aboard Proserpina the day before and St Montgomery's reputation was such that it was easy enough to guess that that was why he was in Norrington's office now. |
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| Frederick St Montgomery | 20 Mar 2008, 05:23 AM Post #4 |
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Rear Admiral of the Fleet
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Cartwright's entrance did break the tension for a brief moment, so absorbed were the men in their disagreement that they had completely missed him knocking on the door. "That is quite all right, Mr Cartwright, the captain here was just leaving," Norrington said, his gaze leveled at St Montgomery, "You're dismissed, Captain," and he looked back down at his desk, and sat in his chair, trying to make some order out of the chaos that was his desk. St Montgomery snarled, and turned to leave. He leveled the dirtiest glare he could at Cartwright, who was guilty of no crime other than wearing a scarlet coat, and being in the same general direction as he was heading. St Montgomery stalked towards the Marine, increasing his speed so as to rob the marine of the chance to move out of his way, he shifted to the side very slightly, so that he slammed his shoulder and enough of his considerable bulk into the marine, pushing him off to the side. As he continued past the marine he snarled out, "take care to watch where you stand, Cartwright, you wouldn't want to be in the way." His warning delivered, St Montgomery had some business he had to attend to, so that he could make good on his threats. St Montgomery may have been the laughing stock of many of the garrison, but he would see to it that they would not laugh for long. No, soon, very soon they would rue the day that they ever thought anything even remotely unflattering about him. But first he had to meet with a few people and arrange for a few things. {Exit} Norrington shook his head at St Montgomery's retreating form. The man was more trouble than he was worth. At the earliest possibly convenience he would see if he could have the man transfered to Heyworth's command, or even better, transferred to the Mediterranean. Though, one could question if that was truly enough distance. "You all right?" Norrington asked the marine, having noticed St Montgomery's assault. "What's the damage?" |
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| Royal Navy & Marines | 20 Mar 2008, 10:49 PM Post #5 |
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Master of Puppets
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"That is quite all right, Mr Cartwright, the captain here was just leaving." It was that statement only that stopped Cartwright taking the last two steps out the door. He turned part-way back around but kept his gaze partially lowered. He was already embarrassed enough to have gone barging into the office unaware that he was interrupting. The sentry should have told him there was already another officer inside. Stupid bungler. St Montgomery cast a glare toward him that made Cartwright shiver as the big post-captain started toward the door. His suddenly-brisk stride gave the marine only an instant to think something might be about to happen, then he found himself shoved bodily aside by the Navy man's shoulder, with a fair bit of weight thrown in behind it. Cartwright reacted quickly enough to roll with the force of the shove, but couldn't quite manage to keep from twisting around sharply. "Take care to watch where you stand, Cartwright, you wouldn't want to be in the way." The Londoner's face went dark and he started reaching for his sword, more out of instinctive reaction than pure anger - but not by much. "Mind your step, bleedin' jack's arse. You'd do well to remember if it wasn't for my lads - " he cut himself off in mid-sentence, realising that he'd been about to say something exceptionally stupid. If it hadn't been for the marines, none of the present mess would ever have happened. If Forsythe hadn't been... if he, Cartwright, had taken greater heed of the unease that he'd sensed amongst the garrison. "You all right?" "Perfectly, sir," Cartwright answered, moving his free hand away from where his shirt was sticking to his skin again. The slice across his ribs had opened back up and was bleeding again. If Finch wasn't enjoying some much-needed sleep at his desk in hospital, Cartwright would see that he got tended to. The poor bloke had been working all day and night patching up wounded. It wasn't fair to lob one more onto his load until he'd gotten some rest. "What's the damage?" Cartwright held out the parchment scrap. "Pardon the blood and all on it, sir. It's... well it's plenty to give Major bloody Stevenson cause to think my lads can't even stand watches any longer." He exhaled angrily and shook his head. Getting himself back up into a fighting temper about the presence of the Kingston marines so soon after exchanging a few sharp words with Captain Stevenson wasn't perhaps the best thing, at least not just then. This was a helluva way to conduct himself, especially given the nature of the report he'd just handed over. "Sorry sir. Hard enough knowing I let my boys down this bad. Finding out just how many of them were lost..." he sighed and gave a half-hearted shrug. It was one thing to express his thoughts to another marine, as a red-coat was more likely to understand his meaning; attempting the same to a Navy man, even Norrington, wasn't easy at all. |
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| James Norrington | 21 Mar 2008, 03:45 PM Post #6 |
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Norrington, James Norrington
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"Pardon the blood and all on it, sir. It's... well it's plenty to give Major bloody Stevenson cause to think my lads can't even stand watches any longer." Norrington accepted the parchment from Cartwright, looking at the list. He forced himself to read it a second time, not sure that he even wanted to comprehend those numbers. The numbers...he knew that they would have to be high, after all, he had been in the thick of it as Cartwright had been...but the numbers were quite sobering. He had hoped that it had not been as bad as it was, but clearly that didn't do the trick. He threw it down on his desk, unable to look at it longer. Stevenson? That must have been the Captain of Marines from Kingston, Norrington was having trouble recalling. Well, with the numbers Stevenson was right, they would have trouble keeping watches. In fact, they would hardly be able to keep Port Royale safe. The Dauntless, the Intrepid, the Proserpina, they had accumulated enough damage, that it would be a while until they were up to full strength, they really had no choice but to draw upon the battalion in Kingston to supplement their numbers. And then the Second and Twenty-ninth were stepping up to help as well. Kirke and Edgecumbe had been quick to assist when they were needed, though they had suffered casualties as well. It was fortunate, in the end that the Army had been there to assist, without them to assist in the battle in town, there was the very real possibility that things could have gone different in the battle for the fort. A possibility he really did not want to consider. "Sorry sir. Hard enough knowing I let my boys down this bad. Finding out just how many of them were lost..." "No, you did not," Norrington said, "a failure this monumental...the responsibility goes to the one at the top. I should have seen this coming. It was quite apparent that there was friction between the men and the East India Company, and instead of doing anything to prevent it...I am afraid I simply made the conditions all the more ripe for a mutiny. We may all want to take the blame, and wallow in it, but we do the best with what we have and what we know at the time, and we must not fault ourselves too greatly." The words were meant to reassure the acting-captain, but Norrington doubted they would. He couldn't even reassure himself, or take them to heart. |
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| Royal Navy & Marines | 22 Mar 2008, 10:56 PM Post #7 |
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Master of Puppets
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The Commodore stared at the hastily-written report for several long moments, looking stricken. Cartwright couldn't blame him. He'd had to ask Finch to repeat the numbers to him twice before they'd sunk in. It was an unbelievable waste of life. His marines had turned on and killed each other, for little more than a grievance that, if he'd acted on the rumours he heard and his own knowledge of their planning, might have been resolved without having it come to bloodshed. "No, you did not," Norrington said. "A failure this monumental...the responsibility goes to the one at the top. I should have seen this coming. It was quite apparent that there was friction between the men and the East India Company, and instead of doing anything to prevent it...I am afraid I simply made the conditions all the more ripe for a mutiny. We may all want to take the blame, and wallow in it, but we do the best with what we have and what we know at the time, and we must not fault ourselves too greatly." Cartwright shook his head adamantly. He could understand what the Commodore was saying, but he couldn't accept it. "No, sir. Major Forsythe might've been blind to it, but I wasn't. I heard the whispers, I knew the lads were discontent, we all did. Not everyone knew they were planning anything, though. But I did." He set his jaw, trying to keep his hands from tightening into fists. Hindsight being as hideously clear as it was... he was very well aware that his failure to act had gotten too many of his men killed, when it could have easily been prevented. "If inaction in the face of knowledge of possible mutinous assembly is not a fault, sir, I'd be glad to know what is." That admission alone would probably cost his commission, he knew. He wasn't sure that he cared, at least not as much as he should have. Stevenson had curtly informed him that what was left of the Port Royal battalion would be relegated to service aboard their respective ships earlier that day, adding just before he left that more Kingston marines would be arriving within the week to assume guardianship of the town. Cartwright made himself cross toward the door, which he shut firmly. Bad enough that there was a sentry outside the door at all, without having the man be a Kingston marine. He'd have felt better with a soldier from one of the regiments performing that duty. They, at least, would have little reason to pass on anything they heard discussed inside the office. It hardly mattered what he said or did at this point anyway, he mused. Stevenson's comments had made it painfully clear that there was little chance of retaining command. His marines would be taken away from him, once Colonel Trombley arrived with reinforcements. Despite his insistence that such a change was the worst thing for them, Stevenson had been gruffly dismissive. If that was the sort of leadership his marines could expect from their replacements, Cartwright was not impressed. The two Army regiments were cooperating far better than Stevenson and his lieutenants. He didn't want to think about what Trombley would be like. "Do you know, sir, that they're taking the battalion away? Once the Colonel gets here, there'll be a formal hand-over. Can't even give things over to the Army. To hear Stevenson talk, you'd think every one of us had a hand in the mutiny. Sad to think he's not even the Kingston battalion's Captain of Marines." Cartwright sighed and shook his head. "I don't know about you, sir, but I'd rather have gone down fighting than see this shambles played out." |
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| James Norrington | 29 Mar 2008, 05:45 PM Post #8 |
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Norrington, James Norrington
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"If inaction in the face of knowledge of possible mutinous assembly is not a fault, sir, I'd be glad to know what is." Norrington paused. If Cartwright knew...well, no sense in lamenting the past too long was there...they could sit here and play 'what if' games the whole day, and still never resolve anything, whereas right now they did have work to do and crises to solve. Having Cartwright punished for his lack of action would hardly accomplish anything good. It would simply leave him an additional man short, and give the Port Royale Marines one more reason to be ashamed. Morale was at a great low right now, and punishing more people would not help. Rather cold reasoning, he was sure, but it didn't make it any less true. He looked up curiously as Cartwright shut the door to his office. More privacy then? "Do you know, sir, that they're taking the battalion away? Once the Colonel gets here, there'll be a formal hand-over. Can't even give things over to the Army. To hear Stevenson talk, you'd think every one of us had a hand in the mutiny. Sad to think he's not even the Kingston battalion's Captain of Marines." Unfortunately that was not entirely an unforeseen event. Hardly one that would improve the morale...but the moral of the remaining troops would not something that would be of high concern to the men from Kingston. He would have preferred himself to see the Army assist more than their colleagues from Kingston, but he was hardly going to be allowed a choice in the matter. The mutiny had occurred on his watch, with his men, so his opinion was going to be far less valid, if he wasn't about to be replaced soon anyway. "I don't know about you, sir, but I'd rather have gone down fighting than see this shambles played out." Norrington could understand and sympathise with Cartwright's views. "It would have been easier, but the right things are not always the easiest. Things will get resolved and fixed, and things will seem normal enough...if not soon, then certainly eventually. I think we've hit the bottom now, we can't go any further, all we can do is climb from here." |
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| Royal Navy & Marines | 13 Apr 2008, 10:53 PM Post #9 |
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Master of Puppets
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"It would have been easier, but the right things are not always the easiest. Things will get resolved and fixed, and things will seem normal enough...if not soon, then certainly eventually. I think we've hit the bottom now, we can't go any further, all we can do is climb from here." Cartwright tried to smile, but the gesture wavered and died quickly. Things might be at the bottom for the Commodore - it was easy to imagine that the statement was true, all things considered. The same, however, could not be said for Cartwright himself. He had sad business yet to attend to; writing letters to be sent back to England, beginning the arrangements for post-court-martial executions, preparing for the burial service tomorrow... rock bottom would be hit once the main body of Kingston men arrived and he was shuffled aside as nothing more than a nuisance. "I'm sure you're right, sir," the Londoner replied, attempting to sound confident. He felt anything but confident, however. Weary, aching, frustrated, guilty, heart-sick... those were better descriptions of how he felt. There would be ample time to entertain them all, after he was finished looking after the affairs of his marines. Again, he tried to smile, with marginally more success this time. "Besides... there are positives in nearly everything, the trick is finding them." It was a saying that his father had been excessively fond of. Cartwright wasn't sure why he'd repeated it now, of all times, except that it was an effort to infuse some sort of optimism into his otherwise-gloomy mood. He wasn't any use to anyone if he insisted on moping about in this manner. "If there's nothing else, sir..." he tried and failed to find an appropriate end to that sentence and, after a brief, awkward silence, settled for adding, "there's a lot to do yet." |
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| James Norrington | 28 Apr 2008, 04:27 PM Post #10 |
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Norrington, James Norrington
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"Besides... there are positives in nearly everything, the trick is finding them." Norrington very much doubted that Cartwright really bought into what he said, but then again...it was very hard at this point in time to even conceive of anything getting better. Morale wasn't going to be rising anytime soon. The Kingston Marines rubbed the Loyalists the wrong way, and the Kingston Marines looked down on the Loyalists as being little better than their mutineering comrades. "If there's nothing else, sir...there's a lot to do yet." Norrington nodded, "go do what needs to be done." Norrington looked down to his papers and shook his head. This was just getting worse...but now that he was here, he figured he might as well start on more of the paperwork. He'd had his fill of touring to see the damage, even though he hadn't even managed to see what sort of damage the Dauntless, Proserpina, Intrepid, or Falcon, had sustained, though he'd gotten the reports. And those would have to suffice for now. Finis. (OOC-Just a finishing post since one Cartwright leaves, there's little more to do) |
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