"Sir, I would like for you to look at these numbers," Gillette said, walking over to Norrington. After the whole pirate fiasco he had become concerned with his leader, wondering if he was capable. Besides that, he also had become only slightly obsessed with pirates. A good deal of time was spent each night researching them, writing notes about them, and plotting against them.

"Commodore, I really think you should take a look at this," He insisted. Norrington, however, simply waved them away.

"Gillette, I'm very busy!"

"But commodore!"

"Later, Gillette!"

"This is important!"

With a resigned sigh, Norrington snatched the parchment from his lieutenant. His lips were stretched tight as he read, but the further along he got, the more they relaxed. Once he was done with the brief scribbles of writing, his mouth was hanging open.

"How come I was not informed of this sooner?" Norrington demanded, standing at last.

"Well, I only just discovered it." Gillette replied. His leader's eyes closed for a moment and his hand found a place upon his desk to rest on.

"This will have to be dealt with immediately," He said through closed eyes.

"Of course, commodore. Shall I assemble the men?"

"Yes, yes, get them prepared. I'm not sure what good it will do, though. Let me think."

Gillette scurried away at top pace, spurred by eagerness and horror from his discovery. Norrington sank into his chair, all ready deep in thought. There were no real pirate ships left to roam in the waters of the Caribbean, he had thought. He had thought that he had beaten them down, that he had triumphed. But Gillette's numbers said otherwise. And had his lieutenant ever been wrong before?

Well, there was that mishap involving the cursed pirates; however, who could have possibly believed that Elizabeth had been telling the truth? No one, that's who. Norrington knew the fault lay with him at any rate, though he was not eager to admit it.

His eyes once again strayed to the parchment and he began ticking off different numbers with his fingers. So, there it was. All the ships of the navy residing in the Caribbean put together did not even equal half of the ships the pirates had. Combining every man who worked for the navy in the Caribbean, even ones who couldn't fight, only equaled to a quarter of the pirates residing in Tortuga.

Tortuga. For a long time that name had haunted him, but he had never dreamed that so many could ever have lived there. The seas were certainly under the navy's control, but for how long? There was the promise of rebellion, sooner or later the pirates would give up their grudges and fight together. If and when they did, their vast numbers and skill would certainly be no match for the queen's navy.

So, Norrington made up his mind. They would have to strike hard and fast, aiming for the heart of the problem, Tortuga. Snatching his hat and coat up with skilled fingers, he put them on and hurried out to the docks.

"Commodore! The crews are nearly ready!" Gillette called, waving to him from the deck of one of their few ships. All the men were supposed to be ready to go at the drop of a hat, but it was typical for them to take an hour getting ready. 'Nearly ready' really meant that the crews were running 'round, trying to grab a few last minute things.

"Sir? Have you come up with any plans?" Questioned Gillette as he approached Norrington.

"Not yet. No need to be rash," Norrington lied, never loosing his stride as he approached his ship. They spent a few minutes in heavy silence as Norrington developed more of his plan in his thoughts.

"Sir?" Gillette said softly, not wanting to disrupt the commodore's thinking. "Sir, the men are boarding."

Commodore Norrington looked up to see that, indeed, the men were boarding. It seemed to be happening much too quickly. It was far too rash. Sudden. Not like him at all, oh no. But this looming threat was just too hard to ignore and he knew damn well they would have to work quickly.

"Men!" Norrington began, "For a long time we have tried to protect Port Royal from the threat of pirates. And for a long time we thought we were doing an excellent job," at this there were many cheers from the crew, "However. However, there is a bigger threat here than we ever realized. The pirate's numbers are four times ours, and our fleet is only half the size of theirs.

"In Tortuga where we seldom go, these pirates and their ships can be found. We long ignored Tortuga because we wanted no affiliation with such a place; but now we have no choice, we have to strike hard and we have to strike fast. All that we have yet planned is to sail there with only the ships from Port Royal. We will have residents here send for help from the other islands, and yes, even England.

"Later on this voyage you will be informed of what the plan is once we reach Tortuga. But for now, we sail," Norrington finished off his speech and headed towards the stern where Gillette was standing.

"Gillette, give the orders while I'm below deck," Norrington whispered, waving to his men as he went down the rickety steps. Once he found a relatively stable table to work at, he laid out his papers and was soon absorbed in them.

Above the commodore, men scurried about as they got the ship prepared. One rather excited man, Joseph Fletcher, nearly fell off the side while setting up the sails with a more competent sailor than himself. He would fall into the category of 'ones who couldn't fight', and two of each had been placed upon each ship so they would not be as large a problem.

A couple of the men raced down the steps, not to bother their leader, just to have the cannons ready. One was carrying something that looked a bit like a feather duster which he stuck down the hole of each cannon, cleaning it of any gunk left from the last battle. A large man often called Dwarf cradled the cannon balls next to his chest, loading one in whenever his mates gave the signal. The rest were scattered about the guns putting in powder and checking for random oddities.

On deck it was apparent that everything was, more or less, ready to go. Gillette stood on a slightly elevated portion of the ship yelling last minute orders. Once the anchor was lifted from the water, Gillette waved the okay to the man standing at the wheel. A gust of wind was suddenly caught in the sails, propelling them forward and out of the harbor. It seemed a perfect start to their voyage.

Below deck Norrington was cursing loudly, for all his papers had slid off the table once the ship began to move. He was quick to gather them up, but not exactly quick in recovering from his anger. The usually pallid cheeks of the commodore were flushed an angry scarlet, and his hat was on the verge of falling from his head.

"We're moving, Norrington!" Gillette announced as he stampeded down the stairs. His captain glared at him briefly.

"Warn me next time, won't you?" Norrington asked through gritted teeth. His lieutenant bobbed his head, looking abashed.

"At any rate, I believe I have devised a plan."

"So soon?"

"Yes, care to take a look?"

"Of course, sir!"

For the second time that day an uncomfortable silence fell about them as Gillette stared at the papers on the table. His eyes were as round as doubloons when he finished looking over all of it.

"The women and children, sir?" Gillette asked, his normally cheerful voice drained and pinched.

"Everyone, yes. I am regretful it has to be done like this, but everyone in that godforsaken place knows how to shoot a gun. We just can't afford to take chances. And in my experience, taking captives is the easiest way to get what you want. If we take a good number of the women and children, hold them on these ships, then we can lure the pirates out to here.

"Once they arrive on the decks of any of our ships, we shoot. It's not nice and it's not clean, but it is effective. It will be very effective. It would be better than just traipsing about that place, waiting to see if someone is a pirate or not and then shooting them. What we're doing is for the good cause, so who cares, who really cares if we go about it with morals or not?

"All of the Caribbean will lay in ruin if we don't do this soon. When all the rum runs out, those pirates will finally realize they outnumber us and band together. It's too risky not to do this at the moment, Gillette."

"Commodore, you sound," Gillette paused, his voice dropping, "You sound like a pirate, sir."

"Yes. Yes, I do," agreed Norrington slowly. Perhaps Captain Sparrow had had more of an effect upon him than he thought.


Author's Note: Well, there it is. Both the plots have been started, now it's just up to me to finish 'em, and for anyone who had read this to review so I know what or what not to do!

Truffles: Ja, I am aware Gillette is a brand of razor. But Gillette is Norrington's lieutenant. In the movie, he's the one who says 'Oh don't worry miss, a little mermaid flopped up on the deck and told him the whole story.' Sorry for any confusion. It wasn't me who told the writers to have a man named after a razor!