The dim morning light filtered through the tall windows of the command office, tinted by the red curtains fluttering in the harbor wind. James Norrington, standing straight in front of the massive wooden desk, kept a firm posture, his uniform impeccable and his expression tense. Across from him, his superior, Commodore Becket, watched with furrowed brows and interlaced fingers.
"So, you want me to believe," Becket said with a skeptical smile, "that a group of pirates cursed Port Royal, attacked without warning, and that a young woman… wielding a flaming sword… fought their captain?"
Norrington held his ground.
"I saw it with my own eyes, sir. The pirate Barbossa was… cursed. During the battle, under the moonlight, his skin disappeared. He was a living skeleton. Immortal. And the girl who traveled with the pirate Sparrow used a sword engulfed in fire. She fought with power and determination—almost beyond human."
Becket leaned back in his chair, staring at him wearily.
"And you expect me to include this in the official report to the Admiralty? You speak of skeletons, magic fire, and cursed gold like it's some cheap novel."
"I'm not asking you to believe blindly, sir. I only need authorization to track their movements. They aren't common bandits. They're a far greater threat than we imagined. If I'm right, they've stolen an ancient treasure… one tied to that curse."
Becket looked at him for a long moment. Silence stretched between them.
At last, the commodore sighed.
"I know your record, Norrington. You're not one for delusions. I don't entirely understand what you've seen, but if you believe this is a real threat… you have my permission. Use whatever resources you need. But keep it discreet."
Norrington nodded, a glint of resolve in his eyes.
"Thank you, sir. I won't disappoint you."
Tortuga was a boiling pot of smells, chaos, and rumors. That night, disguised in tattered clothes, a fake scar, and a worn-out cloak, Norrington walked the alleys of the port stripped of his usual officer's demeanor. He blended among smugglers, thieves, and pirates.
In the Broken Mast Tavern, a recent brawl had become the talk of the town. A sailor, still with bandages on his arm, was recounting the events to anyone who'd buy him a drink.
"I swear on hell's rum! That crew was weird! The captain looked crazy, but the one giving orders… was a doctor. A damn doctor with a sword. And there was this redhead who could control fire. Fire, I swear! She burned the floor without powder!"
Norrington listened from a corner table, hood drawn low. He noted silently: A redhead with fire… must be the same girl. He asked, feigning curiosity:
"And where were they headed?"
"They mentioned an island… can't recall the name, but there was talk of cursed gold, skeletons, revenge. Something to do with… Cortés's treasure, or something Aztec. Or maybe Mayan? Bah, who cares! Old, cursed gold! That's what they said!"
The rumors flowed freely. Some spoke of skeletons only visible under moonlight. Others claimed the dead couldn't die. One old man swore he'd heard the tale before… whispered in the Port Royal prison.
Norrington left the tavern, heart racing. The pieces fit together:
—An Aztec treasure. Cursed gold. Immortality under the moon. A strange pirate crew led by Sparrow. A girl with powers.
It all made sense now.
He returned to his covert ship and charted a new course: the Isle of the Cursed Treasure, known in old maps as Isla de Muerta.
The chase had begun.
And this time, James Norrington would not fail.