Stede Bonnet set down his book when he heard a knock at his door.

"Come in." He removed his reading glasses and stood.

It was Oluwande Boodhari.

"Come in, come in, Oluwande. What is it?"

"Could I have a word, Captain," he said, removing his knitted cap. He tried not to stare, looking round at the rather palatial captain's stateroom, the elaborate stern windows draped in rich fabric trimmed with gold fringe, the grand woodwork and furniture and carpeting, the floor-standing globe in its mahogany frame, the Caribbean rosewood parquetry table inlaid with the design of the wind compass rose, the cut crystal glasses and decanters of spirits on a tray; and concentrated on the matter he came to speak about.

"Of course," Captain Bonnet told him. Please, sit down. You know that I've told you all that I'd like to maintain open-door policy on this ship. Cognac? You can come to me at any time with whatever concerns you. What's on your mind, Oluwande."

"Well . . . Oluwande began, uncomfortably twisting his cap in his hands, sitting down in one of the wing-back chairs in the sitting area beyond the captain's desk. He declined the captain's offer of something to drink. He didn't want to offend or get himself thrown off the ship, but sod all if what he had to say didn't need saying. If the man wanted to survive, if they all wanted to survive, there could be no more playacting at it.

"It's about Captain Badminton, Sir."

Stede Bonnet grimaced. "It was a terrible accident . . ."

He reached for the decanter of cognac and poured some into a snifter, barely warming it in his palm before taking a healthy sip.

"But it wasn't . . . a pirate's got to have a reputation, you see," he said. It could be fixed. "The guy was a bastard, if I may say so, and some say 'e 'ad it comin'. You did right. And your ship is named the Revenge, innit?" Oluwande said.

Nigel Badminton. True, the man had been a bully and a torment all of Stede's young life.

"A proper pirate's got to jump in with both feet; not with one at sea and the other still on land," Oluwande continued, finally relaxing into the comfortable surroundings. Shakespeare, Stede thought, his mind searching a moment or two for where he'd heard it and recalling the similar words: One foot in sea and one on shore, to one thing constant never. From Much Ado About Nothing.

So he'd struck back. Possibly for the first time in his life. But the rest, it had all just . . . happened, hadn' it? He could hang for it, what he'd done, Bonnet thought.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like a drink?" Stede asked again.

Oluwande changed his mind about the brandy; if your Captain offers you a drink, then you should have a drink, and they enjoyed one together, a nightcap.

"We like you, well maybe not Black Pete, but he'll come round in time, and we all want to see you succeed." Bonnet smiled a small, tight-lipped smile at the honest slip.

"Well, that's all I wanted to say. Good night, Captain."

"Good night, Oluwande. I appreciate your candour. Thank you, and I'll certainly take your suggestion into consideration."

Oluwande nodded and left, closing the door quietly behind him.


En route to Rio Grande do Sul, the Brasils - November 1721

But Stede Bonnet couldn't sleep, tossing and turning in his bedsheets.

His sleeping quarters were becoming much too humid and close. Even the open windows did not help. He needed some air. He got up, went to the basin stand, unbuttoning his nightshirt, and splashed some clean water on his face and neck. As the fresh water evaporated from his skin, it had helped him to feel a bit cooler. And then to his armoire, since he wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep, where he chose one of his morning gowns to put on to go up onto the quarterdeck; there were some things he couldn't bear to part with.

The ship was becalmed; the seas very nearly stilled, except for the lap of water against the hull with the gentle, even sway of the ship adrift, the night sky clear and starlit. He became aware of every sound, every familiar creak. The ship's night lanterns were lit, the dancing light from their fires reflecting on the waters with that of the stars. And in the night, he remembered fondly that brief conversation with Oluwande. Oluwande had been quite forthright. There was a lot of merit, of truth, in what he had to say. The makings of a diplomat.

Perhaps it was all too much, everything he'd taken with him from home. He didn't need any of it anymore; perhaps just a few of his treasured books and a good cup of tea, not the bilge water they had been drinking, or some fine port wine. Coffee. And he'd felt so much distance there - as a boy, from his stern father, and now as a man, from his wife and family, but he loved his children. He'd been moulded and shaped for a life he'd been born into but that he now realized he no longer wanted, hadn't wanted. He felt torn. What was he to do? It was all quite daunting.

Trappings. Yes, trappings, that's what all these material things were now. Amidships, he looked up at the hodgepodge of pennants fluttering above in the night breeze, and high on the masthead, the pirate flags. He breathed in deeply the fresh salt air, turning his face up to the longed-for breezes, which were becoming stronger now. He felt a cheer in his heart. At last. The ship had languished for two days and three nights with little to no wind until they would pass through these latitudes, the Doldrums and Horse latitudes, and it had almost been the unmaking of him, the not knowing, until they'd caught up with the southeasterly trades, and the cooling wash of a light rainstorm. I told you, he imagined Edward saying.

Perhaps he'd spent too much time in his books, he realized. He wanted to really feel and experience life, all the salt and sting of it, not just read about it and imagine it. And this is what drew him to wanting to become a pirate, and to Edward.

And the things he'd seen, leaving him in awe of the Earth's majesty and power, a remarkably humbling experience, and yet empowering and all-embracing - if only Edward had been there to share it with him - the curve and grace of a migrating humpback whale's back as it dived deep below the water's surface; dolphins swimming alongside the ship or following in its wake, at times leaping into the air and spinning, out of sheer joy, it seemed; clouds building and soundless flashes of distant lightning in the evening sky.

They were a good lot mostly, his men, and fierce. They'd saved his life, for whatever reason or benefit, and he had begun to win their respect, it seemed. He was most grateful for that. Mr. Nathaniel Buttons, his Scotsman First Mate, knew the importance of attitude and did look fierce; a bit like a piranha when he put his fangs in, as he called them. And Roach, the cook, mixed things up just enough to keep things interesting. Not much worse than a bored palate. Roach and the crew were able to catch a few fish during the ship's becalmment, lowering one of her tender boats over the side, and they'd at least had some good meals. Not much to do but remain patient. A ceviche, among other dishes, made with sea bass, vinegar, spices and the citrus they'd carried with them, with the last of the stale bread and some watered-down rum grog.

He had decided. Perhaps it was finally a sense of belonging for him, after all this time, for them all. But he did not wish to hope too much just yet, with this also very likely mutinous crew. Though he just might have an ally in Oluwande. They hadn't sent him overboard yet! He softly chuckled at all of this, as his thoughts became clearer.

They'd go somewhere where they would never be found, unless they wanted to be, Edward had told him. The thought nearly took his breath away. If Edward only knew how Stede felt right now. Stede could not wait to see him again.

He would chart a new course. This was his ship; his place now. He did want to live. To explore it all and see where it all led, in this one brief chance we get at it. He suddenly took off his gold ring and hurled it into the sea. Partly in the old custom of tribute to the sea for a good and safe voyage, and partly for the start of his own new life. He needed to consult his charts and maps at his desk. They'd have to catch him first.

Blackbeard, now there was a proper pirate and well-experienced sailor. Damned dashing fellow he was too, with his long, curly salt-and-pepper hair and signature beard and moustache. And he had the most intriguingly beautiful and warm brown eyes. Kind eyes.

Stede had been quite taken with him.


They had crossed the equator over a month ago. He'd poured them all a drink then to mark the occasion, Mr. Buttons and the crew, and then another for himself back in his private quarters, before he'd thrown his ring into the sea; and had quietly wished that Edward had been there with them. Soon, perhaps tomorrow or the day next, or even the next, with Mr. Buttons at the helm and the crewman assigned to lookout, perhaps one of the new fellows, Jim, would call the sighting of land from aloft, the merchant ensign flag would fly, the pirate flags come down, and the ship would raise the courtesy flag of Portugal with its armillary sphere of the Brasils as they sailed into port, to their new home. They would live as successful merchants; no longer thieves and smugglers. The crew would be free to stay on, or to leave to seek their own fortunes if they so wished. Some might choose to find work on another ship, or return to Barbados.

He lit the lantern on his desk, and opened Edward's sailing diary, his name tooled into the worn Spanish leather cover. Edward Teach. This was Edward's sailing route plan. It would be a fairly steady, peaceful sail; towards the Cabo Verdes and the west coast of Africa, and then turning south and west, down the coast of South America, following the benevolent ocean currents and paths of the gentle trade winds.

Of course no sailing was ever completely predictable, and that sometimes could be the beauty of it.

Inside, there was a beautifully handwritten note. My dearest Stede, it began, and then went into the details of the journey. The crew of course would make sure they were fully stocked and provisioned, but Edward told him of the best ports of call should it be necessary, and whom to see of his contacts. The weather and hazards; the calms, the winds, the tides. The birds and marine life. The monsoon rains that sustained and nurtured the tropical rainforests the world over.

Safe journey, Edward wrote, and we'll see each other soon. He ended the letter With all my love and affection, Edward. They had agreed that it would be safer if they travelled separately, and more practical as well, for Edward to take care of arrangements on the other side of the voyage. Stede smiled. One of the world's most notorious pirates, if not the most, was open, loving, and giving. And Stede loved him too.

It was a pleasure to read through, a joy - and it helped him pass the time until they could be together again. In a way, it was almost like being with him. How well fine things suited him. There was no question that Stede would keep it for him. It seemed to even smell of him - the leather, the pages, his soap. His sweet pipe smoke. He smiled. Perhaps it was just Stede's own wishful thinking.

Stede Bonnet stayed at his desk reading until the first light of dawn.