A good book was all the company Stede needed. Some actual company would also be…quite nice, but a great read kept him more than content! It'd been keeping him content for the past three or so years now.
As he turned his page, a sturdy wind blew past, ruffling his hair and the long grass around him. The soft noise of the wind was drowned out by the sound of graceful waves brushing against large rocks below. For the first time in a little while, Stede looked up from his novel. A silly little thing about swashbuckling hooligans and grand adventures. It was his favourite. It was a book his father would no doubt sneer and shake his head at.
'What useless things you indulge in boy' .
Thankfully, a good shake of his own head put the echoing voice out of his thoughts. Stede didn't need to think about his father anymore. He still did, sometimes, but he didn't need to, and that was good enough.
Instead, he looked out to the view before him. An open, grey sky, some grey clouds and just the hint of sun peeking through here and there. He was at the very edge of the island's tallest cliff. The edge, which was much closer to sea level than most lighthouse islands, was only a thirty-second walk from his cabin, and just a minute away from the lighthouse, but it was still quite an impressive edge!
The dark rocks surrounding the waters below were menacing enough, and just the other day he spotted a seagull perched nonchalantly on the stomach of a sunbathing sea lion! Absolutely thrilling. He was most definitely telling Clarence all about it the next time he stopped by. Clarence being the lovely fellow who was nice enough to come by every few months to bring him the necessities: tea bags and books - oh and food too, of course.
Telling by the placement of the barely seeable, and now setting sun, it was right about time to head up to the lighthouse. He closed his book after saving his place and stood with a stretch and a somewhat worrying pop of his back. That couldn't be good. With one last look out towards the view, chilling water and endless mystery, he began walking back.
Before making his way to the lighthouse, he stopped by his quaint little shack. Quaint was…a tad bit of a stretch, but he no doubt made do. It was big enough for everything he needed. A kitchen on the left, a table for one, a bed tucked snuggly into the corner, and a pile of books collected over the past years from Clarence.
He exchanged his book for another, one about great pirates over the years, ones with worrying names and even more worrying pasts. Come to think of it, most of the books he had were somewhat pirate-esque. Not that Stede minded, not in the slightest actually! He was quite the pirate lover himself. When he left home, he foolishly entertained the thought of following through with his childhood dream of becoming a pirate. A captain of a motley crew, swashbucklers and all!
That idea didn't last long. No money and no crew proved to be a slight problem. He had plenty of time to dream now, though.
Glancing at his bed, a thin mattressed thing with even thinner sheets, he contemplated how smart it was to have skipped his usual afternoon nap, one that would keep him bright eyed and ready for the night watch. He wasn't tired, and falling asleep at watch wasn't the biggest deal. Clarence would say otherwise, but after the sixth time Stede dozed off during a shift, he stopped worrying so much. Nothing had gone wrong so far, and after being in this position for the past few years, Stede considered himself to be something of a professional.
Slipping on his neatly hung, blue jacket, and the book tucked under his arm, Stede was ready for yet another night in the lighthouse.
Though no one was around to see much, Stede was still embarrassed every time he came huffing and panting up the many steps of the lighthouse. Face red and sweaty.
How did he, puff puff
Let himself, puff puff
Become so out of shape?
He couldn't imagine what he'd do if he were to be chased by the Badminton brothers and their pack of wild goonies in this state. When he was a boy, he could outrun them no problem, that is, if he didn't run headfirst into a large willow tree. He shuddered. Children could be so very cruel.
Pushing aside his not so fond childhood memories, he prepared himself for another night. There wasn't much up there, aside from a worn chair and a scratchy blanket he left for chillier nights. The gas-lit lantern that hung importantly in the centre of the bricked room made for the perfect reading light.
So he settled in, stripping off his jacket and folding it neatly. He fidgeted for a moment after sitting in the chair, getting just the right position. Oh! There, perfect.
Now settled and the most comfortable he'd get that evening, he opened the novel, skimming through the hefty book and its pages. He flipped passed Anne Bonny the Irish princess, and the successful Bartholomew Roberts, even passed William Kidd. Stede found him to be quite amusing, failing miserably every time to not picture a child pirate. How ridiculous!
Finally, he reached the section he was looking for. The pages were the most worn of them all, and there was a regrettable tea stain colouring the corner of the first page. Hopefully Clarence wouldn't mind his clumsiness.
Before reading, he looked over the dark drawing of the most feared pirate in all of history. With demon-dark eyes and a snarling stature, the hatched drawing of the infamous 'Blackbeard' stared Stede down with what he could only infer to be malicious intent.
Stede wouldn't deny this very picture alone had given him nightmares, on multiple occasions. Though of course if anyone were to find out, he would most certainly deny the very thought. He thought the name was quite suitable for the man in the image, in his opinion. Not just for the obvious reason, the dark facial hair the man's most famous feature, but the name seemed to be just as intimidating as the man himself. Very mysterious as well.
As he read what he had already read countless times beforehand, Stede found himself and his thoughts drifting off. Imagining himself as a famous pirate, too. One worthy to have a place in this very book. A charming man with deathly politeness. A true Gentleman. A breath of amusement came from his nose. How silly.
He continued reading for a while until the grey clouds turned black and the moon was now only barely visible. He blinked. Then he blinked again. The blinks started to get longer and more frequent, and before he knew it his chin lowered along with the book.
A polite pirate. . .the gentleman pirate. . .
Another snort of breathy amusement, then his eyes closed for good.
He awoke to the sound of rain.
He stretched with another pop, chuckling to no one but himself. He wasn't surprised he had fallen asleep, but it was a good thing he was awake now. He was nothing if not responsible.
He lifted the forgotten book from his chest and set it on the stone floor. Luckily no nightmares this time, surprisingly.
The sound of rain seemed to actually be the sound of a storm. Stede stood from the chair and peered out the window. He loved watching storms, from inside that is. It was relaxing knowing all that chaos was happening as you were safe and dry, with a good book in your lap. Unfortunately, it was too dark in the room to see much of anything but…
Wait, What? It was too dark? How could that be…Oh no.
Stede whipped around to the centre of the room, where in most cases the lantern would be burning away brightly. To his wide-eyed dismay, he saw nothing but the hanging silhouette of a dead lantern.
With a rush of panic and trembling hands, Stede re-lit the lantern after a few unsuccessful attempts. A sigh of relief and nervous laughter. That could have been bad, incredibly bad, just absolutely awful.
Turning to Look back out the window, he could now see much clearer. Angry waves, no longer graceful, smacked the rocks with force. The rain was so strong it looked as if lines were drawn on the glass of the window. Another breath of relief escaped his lungs and his shaking hands steadied. Then, as he moved to sit down, it happened.
The loudest strike of thunder Stede had ever heard, breaking up the calming sounds of crashing waves and rain. Or, at least he would have thought it was thunder, if he had not seen it with his very own eyes.
A ship, crashing into the rocks, splintering and cracking, moving like a slow monster that had just been slain.
"Oh- oh dear god…"
Stede's eyes turned to saucers, and if he could, he would have gone several shades paler in the face. His first instinct was to cry, and his second was to curl up into a ball, maybe see if he could squeeze himself under his chair. He stood unmoving, his fight, flight, or freeze instinct winning above all else. His eyes were glued to the window, watching the ship teeter and crash onto its side with another boom of thunder, its mast splitting in two. He was most certainly going to lose his job.
Then it dawned upon him. Where there was a ship, there were people. People who were going to die a very cold and soggy death if he didn't stop being such a soft, and useless little boy and do something. Something right about this very second.
With only a moment needed to work himself up, Stede raced frantically down the steps of the lighthouse, forgetting altogether his neatly folded jacket.
He burst out into the splintering rain and took a moment to regain his bearings and relocate the ship. Protruding masts and sails weren't exactly difficult to spot, however, even in a storm. His feet pounded the grassy floor as he ran, stumbling more than a few times from the slippery ground, as well from his own utter terror.
He reached the edge of the cliff and stood small against the silhouette of the crashed ship. It was wedged between two rocks, and waves relentlessly smacked its sides, nearly reaching over the deck. Whether it was the adrenaline coursing through his entire being, or if Stede just wasn't the most observant person, for some reason or another, as he raced to find the steep path down to the narrow beach, he failed to notice the very prominent black flag whipping violently in the air.
Miraculously not tripping and cracking his head on a particularly pointy rock, Stede came to the base of the ship where it had dug itself into the sand.
Cupping his hands around his mouth, he called out. "Hello! Hello! Is anyone there!"
He Realised fairly quickly, not even God would be able to hear his yelling, so he gave up on that idea.
Unexpectedly, there seemed to be not a single soul aboard the beached ship. Stede had thought he would at least find some traces of sailors, a man floating in the water or squashed between the rocks. How peculiar. Had he somehow stumbled upon a ghost ship? Had some terrible sea creature devoured this ship's occupants and left it to sail into the rocks…?
Then something grabbed Stede's foot.
He yelped in horror. It was the creature, come to take Stede for dessert! He fell back into the dirty sand.
"AH- Oh."
Holding onto his foot with a deathly grasp was no tentacle or claw, but a normal hand. Attached to the normal hand was a normal man. He seemed to be only half-conscious, lying on his back, the only proof he wasn't dead his grip on Stede's ankle.
With cautious movements, Stede gingerly released the man's grasp, then shifted to his knees to get a better look of this stranded stranger. An interesting stranger at that, too.
A long beard tangled into long hair, leather and tattoos covered his body. If it weren't for the sand under them slowly revealing a dark burgundy gradient, Stede wouldn't have taken notice of the many cuts and pierces through the man's leather and skin. This mysterious, cool-bearded man was in dire need of help, and fortunately for him, Stede was quite the wound dresser.
Not wanting to waste any more precious time, Stede moved to stand, before another hand came to grip his wrist. He froze as the man below him looked through half-lidded eyes.
He stared at Stede for a long moment. "Shit." He finally spoke. "I'm fuckin' dead aren't I." His voice was ragged and barely audible.
"Well, I would certainly hope not." Stede laughed slightly. "If you were, that would mean I-"
Then the man coughed up, what Stede hoped to high heavens was only seawater, right into his face before promptly passing out.
Trying desperately not to cry in disgust, he stood and began dragging the man away from the violent sea and his crashed ship. It seemed that Stede would have some company after all.