Chapter Four - Davy Jones' Locker
Stede was having trouble adjusting to his new surroundings. Blackbeard's quarters were dark, its furnishings old and worn, and there was a heavy smell of tobacco in the air.
It wasn't necessarily an unpleasant smell. Something about it reminded Stede of his own study back home, where he used to spend hours reading. He found the source soon enough. A long-stemmed pipe was laying on a desk, presumably in the same spot where Blackbeard had left it. Stede picked it up, admiring the simple yet elegant craftsmanship of its design. He wondered vaguely if Blackbeard himself was the man who had carved it. Lost in thought, Stede nearly raised the stem to his lips. Checking himself at the last moment, he recalled the rightful owner and set the pipe back in place with a nervous laugh.
He continued to peruse the rest of the cabin, though there wasn't much left to see. Blackbeard had only an unsettling number of human skulls on display for Stede's liking, and there was a rather distressing lack of books. He was beginning to lament the loss of his library. Though he hardly expected as much, he prayed that Blackbeard would be kind to his collection.
With perfect timing, Wee John interrupted his sorrowful thoughts. Poking his head through the open door of the cabin, he said, "Captain, the crew was wanting to know if we're having story time tonight?"
For a moment, Stede was at a loss. After their harrowing adventure, he was surprised the men had turned their thoughts to story time. He supposed he should be flattered that they cared enough about the fate of Pinocchio to ask, but he hadn't brought the book with him. There had been precious few moments before they abandoned ship, and Stede had time only for a few spare outfits.
Then again, he had his crew to consider. Stede understood that in times of change and strife, it was important for the men to maintain a sense of normalcy. He wanted them to feel comfortable and safe aboard this unfamiliar ship. After all, it was to be their new home.
As Stede's eyes frantically scanned the cabin, searching for something that would help in his time of need, he spotted a stack of parchment near the captain's bed, tucked away in a recessed nook.
"Tell the crew to wait on deck!" he cried happily, "We'll have our story time, just like always!"
Wee John, grinning with actual pleasure as this announcement, retreated to share the news with his companions. Stede was then free to examine whatever reading material had been left aboard the ship.
All the fanfiction he had read reported that Blackbeard was illiterate, so it was quite a surprise to see the stack of papers. His shock only increased when he discovered it was actually a pile of Whistledown pamphlets, each one creased and worn from excessive reading.
Stede had avoided Whistledown himself, knowing the series contained a speculative romance between himself and Blackbeard. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and with nothing else to read to his crew, he began skimming the pages, mentally preparing himself for the harrowing task of reading the story aloud.
He was soon completely engrossed. The Blackbeard depicted in these pamphlets was nothing like the Blackbeard he'd read about before. Whistledown's Blackbeard was clever, brave, funny… and even occasionally kind. Stede started to feel his heart race every time he came across his own name, lovingly spoken by Edward Teach…
"Um… Hi?"
Stede jumped out of his seat. He hadn't realized how much time had passed, but now it was Frenchie who stared him in the face, looking perplexed as he said, "We're all ready on deck, Captain. We're still having story time, right?"
"Yes!" Stede said, feeling his face turn hot with embarrassment, "Yes I… I'll be along shortly!"
Gathering up the pamphlets, Stede made his way above deck. He had started to think that if the real Blackbeard was anything like what Whistledown wrote, perhaps he wasn't such a villain, after all. But the thought was dismissed as quickly as it had come. Once they might have met as colleagues in piracy, but the time for that meeting had passed. Stede had stolen his ship, after all, and there was no possibility of forming an amicable acquaintance now. If Blackbeard ever caught up to them again, Stede and his entire crew would surely be murdered.
Aboard the newly renamed "Queen Anne's Revenge," sailing under a flag depicting a black cat licking its paw, Izzy Hands gazed at his captain in disgust.
"What the fuck are you wearing?" he asked.
Ed had abandoned his leather in favor of a blouse with lace cuffs, a silk cravat, and a pair of shiny black heeled shoes festooned with ribbons.
"I found it in his wardrobe," replied Ed, not bothering to conceal his delight. "He's got a whole closet full of things like this! And look, the library is real! Do you think this means he reads to his crew? Like what Whistledown writes?"
Izzy continued to stare at his captain with open disapproval as he sneered, "I don't suppose it matters now. We've got a heading on our ship. Once we've killed Bonnet and his crew, you'll have your Lady Whistledown. Ask her yourself."
Ed's enthusiasm for all the new discoveries he'd made aboard the Revenge quelled in light of his first-mate's assumption. He didn't want to kill Stede Bonnet, and it was distressing to think he'd given anyone that impression.
"Izzy…" Ed began seriously, "I'm aware that I've been… rather preoccupied with Whistledown lately."
"An understatement," Izzy muttered under his breath.
"But I want to make myself clear," Ed continued with force, ignoring the interruption, "I have no intention of killing Stede Bonnet or his crew. I expect the same from anyone serving me."
A brief silence followed this declaration. Izzy was the first to speak.
"He stole our ship."
"Yeah, well… We sort of put him between a rock and a hard place…Literally."
"He. Stole. Our. Fucking. Ship."
"He stole my ship. And I stole it from some other bloke. So if you think about it, the ship doesn't really belong to…"
Izzy slammed his hand down on Bonnet's desk hard enough to make all the little knick-knacks rattle.
"Enough!" he snarled, "Whistledown has gone completely to your head, Edward! Just look at you! You're wearing his fucking clothes like some namby-pamby little rich boy! If you want to run off and lick Bonnet's shiny fucking shoes, be my guest! But know that I'll have no part in it! I serve Captain Blackbeard. Not this… This…"
Izzy waved his hand frenetically, gesturing to the whole of Ed's person before he concluded, "Whatever this is you've become!"
He marched out of the cabin and slammed the door behind him. Ed stood for a moment in stunned silence. Izzy was often critical, but he'd never lost his temper toward his captain to such an extent before. Then Ed caught his reflection in a large ornate mirror mounted on the opposite wall. The joy he'd felt when trying on Bonnet's wardrobe faded as Izzy's words wormed their way into his brain. Perhaps he was right. Blackbeard had no business dressing this way. He was a pirate, not the sort of person meant to wear fine things.
"What the hell is his problem?"
Ed glanced at the reflection of the naval captain in the mirror. He was reclining on a chaise lounge, a book from Bonnet's collection laying forgotten in his lap. From his vantage point, he'd been able to watch the entire drama play out. Ed had entirely forgotten he was there.
He sighed and began to pull off the silk cravat, careful lest he soil the delicate fabric with his dirty hands. "Repressed desire manifesting as homophobia, would be my guess."
"Christ, he needs to get laid."
"Tell me about it," Ed replied before he turned to look inquisitively at the captain, "I don't suppose you would…?"
"Not my type," said the sailor promptly.
"No, right. Of course."
"What about you? Have the two of you ever…?"
"Me and Izzy? God no. You know the old saying. Never date your first mate."
"Is that a pirate saying?" asked the captain with a look of interest, "Huh. Wish someone had told me that sooner. Might have saved me a lot of trouble…"
He lifted his book again as Ed continued to disrobe, folding each item carefully and placing it upon Bonnet's desk. As he slowly pulled his own clothing back on, the leather worn and soft with age, he continued to reflect on Izzy's words.
"Can I ask you something?" he said at last, throwing himself onto a French sofa in the style of Louis XIV, "I know what Whistledown writes about me, but what about everyone else? How am I usually described?"
"Reports vary," the naval commander replied, his eyes not lifting from his page, "Some state that you have glowing red eyes and a head made of smoke."
"Smoke?" Ed repeated, instantly regretting the time he accidentally lit the ends of his hair on fire during a siege. It must have been a frightful sight to behold, but the smell was something terrible.
"Only when you want it to be," said the captain. For reference, he passed over the book he had been reading, and Ed was confronted with an illustration of himself.
It wasn't very flattering. The artist hadn't got his nose right, and he had a ridiculous number of guns strapped to his body. Ed tossed the book away from him in dismay.
"What am I going to do?" he moaned, flopping onto the sofa like a petulant child, "He'll be terrified of me!"
"Do you mean Bonnet?" asked the captain conversationally.
Ed nodded mournfully. He was beginning to despair of ever meeting Stede Bonnet on friendly terms. If the Gentleman Pirate had heard these less-than-favorable reports about Blackbeard, it was no wonder he avoided him.
"You could find another way of scheduling an interview," suggested the captain, "Rather than chase him down, let it be known that you want to talk. Have him come to you."
Ed considered this option before he quietly asked, "Would that work?"
The captain shrugged. "Probably not. But it's worth a shot."
