Chapter Two - Batten Down the Hatches

The HMS Royal George was a first-rate vessel. Commanding one hundred guns over three decks, it was quite a prize. Most pirates would never even contemplate taking on the British Royal Navy when they had command of such a fine warship. Then again, most pirates were not Blackbeard. After a long battle, yet suffering few casualties to his crew, the ship was taken. Surviving soldiers were forced to their knees, hands bound behind their backs, to gaze up at their captors in either fear or defiance.

Ed found it all so terribly boring.

"Should we toss 'em overboard?" Izzy asked his captain, his cruel gaze passing over their prisoners, "Or would you like to interrogate them first?"

Ed sighed, "I suppose I must."

Other than devising their battle strategy, Ed had taken little part in the fighting, preferring to leave that to his first-mate and trusty crew. Pillaging simply didn't give him the same thrill that it used to. It was far more stimulating to his imagination to re-read the cherished Whistledown pamphlets in his growing collection. Even the capture of the Royal George had been undertaken to make his restless crew happy. He couldn't care less about the victory, though he considered making a present of the ship to Izzy. If he had command of his own ship, he wouldn't be able to constantly ridicule Ed's taste in literature.

"Er, right…" the pirate captain began awkwardly as he addressed the sailors. He never knew what he was supposed to say in moments like these. He found himself wishing he'd asked Izzy what the hell he expected him to interrogate the prisoners about. Couldn't they just plunder the ship, kill the crew, and have done with it like always?

Then again, Izzy had accused him of being "distracted" these days. Perhaps this was a test to see if Blackbeard was the same ruthless man he had sworn to serve.

It was a test Ed was bound to fail.

"You defended your ship well. For that reason, each of you will be given a choice," he began, striking a pose he hoped fitted the reputation of one such as Blackbeard, "You can be thrown into the sea and feed the sharks, or you can… you can… Is that the latest Whistledown?"

A familiar-looking paper was laying in the midst of the wreckage from their recent attack. It was a wonder Ed had noticed it at all, but he'd been on the lookout for the newest edition for several days. Seizing the sea-soaked page mid-speech, he eagerly checked the date printed in the upper right corner.

"I doubt it," called the sullen and angry captain of the HMS Royal George. Though his fine blue coat was torn, his long hair loosened from its black ribbon, and his head bleeding from a cut over his eye, he still spoke in a loud, firm voice. "We've been on Whistledown's tail for months, but all we've gathered have been scraps."

"I haven't got this one yet!" Ed said happily, more to himself than the confused crew of the warship, "This seems to be one of the first issues. Yes! I've been wondering why Bonnet decided to…"

He paused. His distracted brain had finally processed the naval captain's words.

"Hang on…" he said slowly, turning to look the captain in the face, "Did you say you've been tailing Lady Whistledown?"

"That has been my primary objective since setting sail from Antigua. But as I said, so far Whistledown has avoided capture…"

"Bring the captain aboard my ship!" Ed interrupted, exhilarated by this new discovery.

Izzy hesitated only a moment, but he could tell this was not an order to be questioned. The naval captain was unceremoniously hauled to his feet, tossed aboard Blackbeard's waiting ship, and subsequently shown into the pirate's cabin.

"What do you know of Whistledown?" Ed demanded when they were alone. Fearing nothing from his prisoner, he severed the rope binding his hands and offered him a chair.

With the polished manners of a British Royal Officer, the captain accepted the seat, rubbing his sore wrists with a sour expression.

"I know quite a bit," he replied with mingled pride and disdain, "I happen to be Whistledown's publisher."

"A publisher! I'm impressed an officer like you has got himself a side-hustle. And in literature, no less!"

Over the past few weeks, Ed had come to respect the field of publishing almost as much as he respected accounting. They both sounded like such glamorous lifestyles.

"But… If you're really Lady Whistledown's publisher, why are you hunting her down?"

The captain ground his teeth together before he growled, "Whistledown has reneged on our contract. I was promised a novel on piratical adventures on the high seas. That sort of thing is all the rage in London right now. Whistledown was supposed to deliver a novel that would earn a fortune. But for months, all Whistledown has produced has been nothing but… but fanfiction drivel!"

Ed was fascinated. He was on the edge of his seat by the end of the captain's speech.

"And do you think you're close? Have you got an idea of where Whistledown is hiding?"

"We traced them as far as Tortuga. If you hadn't waylaid us…" the captain heaved a defeated sigh before he continued, "We believe that Whistledown is currently a stowaway aboard Stede Bonnet's ship, the Revenge."

Ed could not believe his luck.

"I was going to rob you blind, kill your men, and very likely sink your ship," he said with a delighted smile to the irascible captain, "But you… You may have just bought their liberty."

The naval captain said nothing, but his confused stare spoke the question that didn't make it to his lips.

"I'll let the ship go, along with what remains of your crew. No further harm will come to them if you agree to remain my prisoner," Ed informed the astonished captain. With a mischievous smile, he added, "In exchange, I'll help you capture Bonnet's ship, personally."


"What do you suppose it is?" Frenchie inquired of Wee John, "Some kind of… torture device?"

"I don't think so," Wee John replied, though it was clear he had no idea, "I mean, you've met the captain. Does he seem like the type who enjoys torture?"

"Honestly, I don't know what to expect from the captain. The man's a complete lunatic."

They were staring at what appeared to be the most uncomfortable chair in existence. The tall backrest had similarities to the guillotine, no doubt prompting Frenchie's question. But this device had no blade. Instead, there was a large screw with a sort of crank attached. No doubt it was meant to crush the head of whatever poor bastard would be forced to lay across the rigid seat.

They hadn't been searching for the device, but while trying to remember where the captain had organized their jam room, they had stumbled across a hidden door. It led into a small, dark chamber littered with blank sheets of paper and this… thing. The fact that it had been concealed made the men feel ill at ease. Just as they started to question their captain's eccentricities anew, Lucius rounded the corner.

"No!" he cried, his ledger nearly slipping from his grasp as he dove in front of them, slamming the door shut with a bang. The wooden planks seamlessly blended in with those around them. If Frenchie and Wee John hadn't just opened the door themselves, they would have questioned its existence.

"What was that, then?" asked Frenchie.

"P… Pilates machine," Lucius replied weakly, struggling to come up with a convincing lie on the spot.

"What's a pilates machine?" asked Wee John.

"It's… for exercise? You know to… to make your body… smaller?"

Frenchie tapped John on the chest and gave him a knowing nod, "See? What'd I tell you? Torture device."

"It's not a torture device!" Lucius corrected, "The captain was planning a gymnasium, that's all. But it's not finished yet! And he wanted it to be a surprise so… So you can't tell anyone what you saw, understand?"

Frenchie and Wee John exchanged dubious looks, then shrugged their shoulders. This explanation made about as much sense as anything Captain Bonnet ever did.

Lucius heaved a heavy sigh once they were out of sight. Checking to make sure there were no other crew members lounging nearby, he triggered the mechanism to open the hidden door, slipping quietly inside.

The captain had commissioned his ship to contain several hidden rooms and passages. To what purpose, only Stede knew. Perhaps he planned to install a pottery kiln or haberdashery one day. Whatever the case, the forgotten chamber had been the perfect size for Lucius's printing press.

He was quite proud of it. Custom built, it had been designed to be easily broken down and reassembled, as needed. Lucius had been able to sneak it on board without assistance. It was the real secret to Lady Whistledown's success. He could lay out the print for each issue himself, prepare the pages for when they made port, and distribute them for free among other ships ready to set sail. His readership stretched as far as any of the boats ventured, trading hands in other ports along the way.

It wasn't a particularly lucrative business, since he was doing it all for free. Then again, he hardly needed the money. Captain Bonnet paid them all wages, whether they found any ships to plunder or not.

Lucius set to work laying out a new page for Lady Whistledown. They would be arriving at Tortuga soon, and he wanted to have the latest installment ready for distribution. Unfortunately, just as he was about to strike the first print, he heard a warning cry from above deck.

"Ship aft portside! God save us, it's Blackbeard!"