HUD: I KNOW, I'M TERRIBLE. I promise I'll pay attention to something else! PROMISE!
Sleipnir and her crew were nearly a week out from Cuba. Anthony spent those days drifting in and out of consciousness with Goldie by his side. The old man left only to feed the crew each day, being sure to pass Anthony water that would induce sleep. The genius didn't mind so much after being explained what he was drinking. That first time made him weary of any consumables for several days.
During the days, Anthony managed to stay awake for a few scarce hours. Goldie never approved - he would rather Anthony stay asleep to save his strength. Forcing himself to keep awake during days of travel wasn't worth the tax on his body. Anthony, for all his fever-induced mindset, found his worries hilarious and giggled away most of them. Goldie just smiled and sighed, his expression humourous but still tinged with enough worry that Anthony could pick up on it.
For the few times Goldie was off to feed the crew and Anthony was awake, the inventor pulled down the rag over the porthole and pushed the glass open. He sat on the upper floor below deck, putting his window well above the deep waters of the ocean. However, the spray still wormed its way in and Anthony reveled in the coolness against his heated face.
The fresh air did well for his sore lungs, tired from coughing and breathing stale air below deck. With the wind, voices traveled. Crew who routinely polished the cannons and swivel guns chatted amongst themselves rudimentary topics, the like that greatly interested Anthony. Goldie had done well to explain minor workings of the ship, but these men had hands on experience.
Anthony listened to which oils to use to polish the guns, how to tie the knots to keep the cannon balls from spilling out across the deck - as well as how to sabotage those very same knots for when rotation put Gibbs or Grim on that specific duty.
It was during a fever-induced scheme for revenge when Anthony heard his first draw of gossip.
"Aye, Tenny - 'ave a minute?"
"Wot? It better be damned quick - Cap'n 'as been ridin' us hard t' git t' Cuba. 'E dun want no slackin'." Anthony's ears perked. A quick glance showed Goldie still in the galley. He slid as close to the porthole as possible.
"Aye, aye," the other dismissed. "Doesn't 'e seem a bit...off?"
A pause. "Wot in bloody 'ell are ye prattling on about?"
"The Cap'n!" The other hissed, his voice dropping low.
"Wot about the Cap'n?" Tenny answered, his voice dark.
"E's been spendin' more time on deck."
"Well, he is the Cap'n. 'E goes where 'e damn well pleases." Anthony rolled his eyes at Tenny's blatantly dry tone. The other pirate smacked his lips.
"Aye, but when does ours go below deck?"
Anthony swallowed, working his perpetually dry throat. To see him. The rest of the pirates' conversation drifted away as Anthony fell into his own thoughts. That comment reminded him of something he had thought was a dream at the time. Now, he wasn't so sure.
Were his timeline to be correct (as correct as his fevered mind could stand), it was two days after Anthony heard Goldie and Laufey decide to sail for Cuba. A terrible storm rocked the ship for the majority of the day and well into the night. Anthony had hoped to sleep through most of it, but the shifting and jostling was too much for his weakened state. Goldie stayed as near as possible with a pail should Anthony need it. The inventor had needed it quite often.
Anthony had been pleased to see that the bolted down furniture in his alcove didn't move in the slightest; before the worse of the storm hit Goldie had thrown all loose items into a small blocked off area that looked identical to a pig pin made with long slates of wood. It held quite well - one particular wave turned Sleipnir nearly on her side. Anthony held to his cot for purchase as Goldie did the same - they watched as Anthony's bag slid to the opposite side of the hull. It nearly reached before the ship lurched again, this time in the opposite direction, sending the bag back to its previous location. Goldie strapped it to the leg of the cot with twine.
Those pitches were the worse of the storm - after settling, Anthony shared a small laugh with Goldie and decided that his bag's contents would be better off inside the locked drawers of the desk. The old man agreed with a nod and said he would fetch the key after the storm passed. Anthony laid back down and faced the hull of the ship. Deciding to unpack suddenly made his entire situation all the more real. It brought a moment of clarity in his fevered haze that Anthony would rather not have. The rocking of the ship put him to sleep uneasily.
What had felt like hours later, voices woke him. Stamping of feet as the crew shifted, those soaked from the storm grousing about the pitiful weather, echoed in the hull as they sent off their replacements. It was too loud for several minutes until it all suddenly ended. Anthony sighed and turned over, drawing his duvet higher.
"Goldie." Anthony's eyes snapped open. He held his breath, his heart suddenly racing, and laid incredibly still.
Laufey's call was answered with silence. "Goldie."
"Ah - wot, wot?" The old man, Anthony knew, was sitting outside his curtain on his stool. He yawned loudly. "Apologies, Cap'n. Seemed t' 'ave drifted off."
"So it seems," the captain answered, a touch of fondness in his tone. "Get some rest, Goldie. I shall take your place."
"But Cap'n!" Goldie immediately began to protest. "Ye must be outta yer mind! Why, yer soaked t' the bone! Ain't no way 'n hell yer sittin' 'ere in 'at state."
"Your voice carries, Goldie," the captain answered, his tone still as soft as before. Goldie grumbled for a moment before he huffed.
"Ain't no way I'mma let ye sit 'ere like 'at. Before long, ye'd be worse off 'an Tony."
"Get to sleep, Goldie," Laufey answered. "That is an order."
There was silence - Anthony had imagined Goldie staring down the captain - before the older pirate shuffled around and stood from his stool. "Aye, aye - but jus' fer a bit!"
"Certainly," Laufey said. Goldie mumbled a bit more before Anthony could hear him no more. After a moment of blessed silence, the curtain shifted aside. Anthony struggled to keep his breathing even.
"Pardon me a moment - I wish to merely borrow your coat hook," Laufey said softly. Anthony continued to feign sleep as he heard the heavy fabric of the overcoat slide from Laufey's form, resting on Anthony's hook with a wet squelch. Small drops of water fell to the floor audibly; Goldie hadn't been lying about the captain's condition.
Anthony had his back to the curtain as the captain moved quietly. He couldn't help but feel the entire situation to be strangely intimate - the thought brought a rapid heat to his neck and face that he fought with his entire will to cease.
No sooner had it ended did Anthony feel a hand on his shoulder. Even through his duvet it was far too cold. Anthony didn't move as Laufey's hand drifted to his forehead, the touch comforting against his fever heated skin. It rested there for only a moment; Laufey leaned over Anthony just slightly to keep balance as the ship rocked from a rogue wave, causing the captain to tsk about poor handling.
"We shall arrive in Cuba soon," the captain whispered, drawing his hand back and stepping away from Anthony. "For now, rest well. I will not be far."
The curtain closed again and Anthony listened as Laufey took Goldie's stool. He was moderately alone with his thoughts and couldn't help but still feel the captain's soothing hand against his skin. Before long, sleep had claimed him again.
Now, listening to the dregs of shifting conversation through his porthole, Anthony had to begin to wonder himself. It most certainly had not been a dream, but why did Laufey sit below deck outside of his curtain? Anthony wanted to ask Goldie, nearly certain that he would have an answer, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not that Goldie would answer the question even if he did ask - he was trusted by Laufey for good reason. Hardly any talk left his mouth, and on more than one occasion Anthony heard him silence the rest of the crew from it.
"If'n it be yer's t' know ye would!" Anthony couldn't help but grin; Goldie was certainly still surprising.
Anthony shivered and decided that would be enough air for the day. He pushed the porthole glass in and locked it, tying the rag back up to block the sun. His alcove fell blissfully dark, drawing a yawn from him. In the days since his fever had began, Anthony did little else than sleep and drink. Were he on land, the inventor had no doubt that his body would have already cured itself. Weeks, now months for Anthony, did odd things to a body's natural immunity. Anthony held little doubt that his prolonged fever was because of the wetness of the air and his surroundings, but Goldie was trying his best to keep him well fed. It was working, and with hardly a day left at sea, Anthony felt optimistic about a full recovery.
If only he could stop shivering, then he would feel himself again.
Anthony allowed his thoughts to drift back to Laufey. There was absolutely something odd about the man besides just his outward appearance and obviously cultured upbringing. Anthony had seen more than he would like of his ruthless side - several of his fevered dreams revolved around Jack's injury - but it still didn't seem quite right.
Laufey's reputation was full of bloodthirsty tales of murder and mayhem and ruthlessness to make even Blackbeard quiver. Yet, Anthony had seen more kindnesses than naught from the captain. Stories say he burns all ships, yet the Cavalier is assumed to still be afloat with most of her crew still living. Anthony refused to believe anything less - that Jack was alive and well and perhaps searching for him were his only options.
Still, Laufey was an enigma. One thing Anthony heard seemed to contradict another; murmurings from the crew that so well respected him shed new light. Goldie, the oldest of the crew and obviously with Laufey the longest, held fountains of knowledge about the captain but was quite scant with sharing.
As if on cue, Goldie pushed aside Anthony's curtain and smiled. "Good t' see ye awake, mate."
Anthony grinned, feeling his face flush. Goldie always had a knack for appearing the second his thoughts dwelled too long on their captain. "Thanks, Goldie."
"Nay, no thanks," Goldie answered, kicking his stool closer to Anthony's cot. The genius began to think of that as Goldie's spot, now. "We've been worried, lad. Seein' ye up an' makin' sense is good!"
Anthony's cheeks darken their flush. "Well, I suppose that's true."
"Aye - for all yer genius, listenin' t' ye prattle on 'bout seagulls gits t' me," Goldie teased, a twinkle in his eye. Anthony dipped his head slightly and scratched the back of his neck. He felt sheepish; usually he hid quite well, but Goldie was becoming better and better at announcing his shortcomings. He supposed that was his talent as a pirate. Perhaps that was why Laufey and he were so close - he kept that wonder of a man grounded.
"'Ere, Tony." Anthony looked over to see Goldie holding out a hunk of cheese and salted pork. "Cap'n thinks yer belly can handle 'is, an' I agree."
Anthony nodded and took the provisions, taking a soft nibble of the cheese as Goldie began to eat his own. They were silent, companionable, as they each ate. Anthony ate much slower than usual, testing his stomach. His diet had consisted of broth and biscuits for the better portion of the week - rightly so, as with nearly each strong lurch of the ship his stomach's contents went with it.
Nothing wanted to come back immediately, prompting Anthony to finish the cheese and move to the salted pork. Whatever spices had been used to dry the meat was surprisingly good. Anthony opened his mouth to say so when Goldie began to speak.
"Tony," he said quietly, his food gone and his tone strange. Anthony nodded to show his attention. Goldie stared beyond him - Anthony bet even beyond the ship - as he began to speak, his voice low.
"Sumthin' ye should know about Cap'n, 'bout why 'e is th' way 'e is." Goldie immediately had Anthony's undivided attention. "We've sailed 'ese waters fer some time, an' I've seen 'ore 'an my share o' betrayal. Gave some, too." He leaned back, kicking his feet under Anthony's cot and leaning against the desk.
"Cap'n 'as seen it 'imself, too. Aye, 'e wasn't much older 'an ye when it 'appened. Wot exactly, ain't mine t' share - but I will give ye some advice. Ye do wif it as ye will, but methinks yer not one t' ignore curiosities." Goldie smirked, catching Anthony's eye. Anthony decided then that Goldie must be some sort of otherworldly being - either that or he wasn't as perfect at concealing himself as he thought.
"Will you tell me how I got back to my cot?" Anthony asked quietly. Goldie nodded, that twinkle back to his eye.
"Aye, Tony; I knew ye was special before ye opened yer mouth, lad," Goldie said. He smiled brightly, his teeth flashing in the poor lighting of the hull. "An' the Cap'n knew it, too. 'E's been lookin' fer someone like ye awhile, now. Knowledge will come wif time, but fer now, a bit o' advice."
Anthony nodded, his pork sitting forgotten on his knee as he listened to the old man before him. Goldie's smile turned to a grin as he raised his eyebrows. "Ye'd better eat, lad."
Anthony nodded and snatched his pork back up again, taking a larger-than-necessary bite. Goldie chuckled and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Good; now, where was I? Aye, aye - the Cap'n 'as 'ad more 'an enough shite luck fer his years. Shite situations, shite outcomes, shite people. I've seen th' worse o' it. At Cuba, methinks ye'll be graced t' see it yerself. But heed me words - yer diff'rent. I see it, ev'n some o' th' bloody crew sees it. Betrayal makes th' strongest o' men change, 'nary fer th' better. The Cap'n be one o' 'em."
Goldie paused, letting his words sink in. "I suggest ye don't be more regret fer me Cap'n."
Anthony swallowed - hard. "He has not always been this, has he? A pirate, I mean."
Goldie shook his head. "Aye. I be one o' few wot remember."
"I can tell," Anthony answered. "He is far too cultured for this world. I wonder what happened to make this his path." He glanced at Goldie meaningfully, hoping the old man would take the hint. Instead, he smiled.
"I smell a trap, Tony," Goldie said with a wink. Anthony rolled his eyes and shoved the rest of his meal into his mouth, chewing to stop from answering. Goldie laughed and rubbed his chin.
"Now, I s'pose I should git t' tellin' ye 'bout th' mast. It was th' Cap'n who freed ye early. I was settin' 'bout brewin' th' mornin' stew when 'e carried ye down. Said ye passed out - 'e could tell 'cause yer hat flew off an' ye 'nary flinched," Goldie said with a chuckle. Anthony blinked at him, trying to remember what happened.
"I...remember the hat falling away," he said slowly. "It was cold, but then I was warm."
"Aye, 'is coat. 'E carried ye down wrapped up in 'is coat. Another reason ye be diff'rent - only th' Cap'n wears 'is coat." Heat flared up Anthony's neck. He tried to tell himself it was from embarrassment, but if he couldn't trick Goldie how could he expect the same of himself?
"I shall have to thank him," he muttered. Goldie nodded.
"Aye, in time." He fell silent after that, resting his chin in his palm again. Anthony knew the old man was thinking, so he remained quiet. Goldie stood up and pushed his stool back. "'Ow 'bout we hit the deck, Tony? Th' air will do ye some good."
Anthony, grateful for the distraction, nodded. Goldie helped him to his feet after he pulled on his boots and led him towards the stairs. Having the sun on his face warmed Anthony better than any duvet had below deck. The air was crisp, the sun marking mid afternoon.
Goldie directed them towards the railing, nodding at a few sailors as Anthony pressed his sternum against the smooth wood. He stared out across the water, clear and deep blue from the storm days before. Wind whipped his hair into his eyes - he knew he needed to shave, but it seemed a trim was in order as well.
"Careful o' th' edge," Goldie said, dropping a hand to Anthony's shoulder. Anthony nodded, feeling his head suddenly spin. He pushed back and stood closer to Goldie, not at all ashamed to use the old man as grounding.
Anthony was glad to be above deck, to feel the sun on his face and the wind around him. His porthole was a nice reprieve for what it was, but nothing could compare to being out on the deck of a ship in the open sea. He shivered slightly when a sharp gust swirled his tunic, freeing it from where he had tucked it into his breeches. Goldie noticed and mentioned going back below deck when a shrill whistle caught his attention. The old man looked up towards the main mast and grinned, tossing his arm up in an exaggerated wave. Anthony turned to see who it was and immediately felt dizzy from the height.
"Ahoy!" Goldie called, still supporting Anthony with one hand and waving the other. Anthony shook his head and looked again to just make out a figure towards the top.
The main mast had a pulley system rigged on two sides that Anthony had plenty of time to admire during his punishment. He was curious for their use - why ever would anyone need to haul anything hundreds of feet into the air? - and was pleasently surprised to get to see them in action.
The man waving back to Goldie reached out and snatched at a pulley hook in midair, his weight pulling him down from the highest point to a comfortable bucket halfway down the mast. He repeated the action on two more pulleys and by the last, Captain Laufey gracefully joined Anthony and Goldie on the deck.
Anthony was surprised to again see the captain without his hat and overcoat, his long black hair pulled back with green silk and tossed over one shoulder. He found the style becoming, highlighting the deep bone structure that was normally hidden behind hat and hair.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen," the captain said smoothly, his breathing hardly affected from his bout of activity.
"Aye, Cap'n," Goldie said with a smile, nodding pointedly towards his hair.
Laufey smirked slightly and tilted his chin. "I found your advice worthy."
Anthony felt his brow furrow - surely there was something he was missing? Laufey turned towards him and nodded. "How are you faring?"
"Ah, better, thank you," Anthony answered. Goldie grinned and nudged him.
"Better 'an better! 'E kept down th' pork an' cheese an' 'asn't fallen ov'rboard!" Goldie laughed at the horrified look Anthony threw his direction but the captain just chuckled.
"I am glad to hear," he said calmly, drawing Anthony's attention away from Goldie's guffaws. The inventor cast a critical eye over the captain, still smirking at Goldie. His tunic was deep crimson trimmed in gold string at his chest and lace at the cuffs, far too elegant for even the richest of HMS Captains to own. What brought you here, I wonder?
"'Ow goes th' trip?" Goldie asked, drawing Anthony's attention from the captain to him. In answer, Laufey held out his spyglass and pointed over Anthony's shoulder to the bow.
"Have a look yourself."
Goldie grinned at Anthony and headed for the bow, leaving him alone with Laufey. He swallowed and bit back his nerves with a smile. "Captain, I wanted to - "
"Loki, if you would," the captain interrupted, folding his arms over his chest. The sun caught the leather and silver cuffs around his wrists in a shimmer.
"Loki," Anthony agreed, enjoying the click the foreign syllables made against his teeth. "Thank you for ending my punishment early."
"Thanks is hardly needed," Loki answered. "It was meant to be a punishment - it hardly would have worked well were you to perish."
Anthony grinned - despite how dark his words were, there was an undercurrent of humour to the captain's tone. "I suppose you are correct, in that matter."
Loki turned his bright green eyes on him and lifted a thin black eyebrow. "So it seems." He smirked back at Anthony's wide grin.
"Oi, Tony!" Anthony turned to see Goldie beckoning him over. "C'mon an' see!"
Loki was at his side before he even looked back, hand hovering near his elbow. "Watch your step." Anthony didn't mind Loki guiding him, his presence still uneasy but strong, as they met with Goldie.
The old man was grinning brighter than Anthony had ever seen as he passed over the spyglass. "'Ere, lad. Look."
Anthony swiped his tongue over his teeth and took the spyglass. Loki leaned casually against the railing of his ship, the breeze freeing a few strands of his hair from the emerald ribbon. Anthony blinked and peered into the glass.
He angled it to where Goldie directed him but saw nothing more than water and sky. Anthony frowned and lowered the glass. "I do not see anything."
"Show 'im, Cap'n," Goldie said eagerly. Loki pushed himself away from the railing and stood behind Anthony.
"Raise the spyglass and breathe slowly," he said, his breath ghosting over Anthony's cheek. He stood directly behind him, but much taller. In fact, Anthony noticed, he was even taller than Jack. "Hold the glass tightly with your right hand and pull with you left, like so."
Loki's fingers brushed Anthony's wrists as they gripped the spyglass gently. His fingers were cool, exactly as they had been when he checked Anthony's fever during the storm. His left hand pulled the spyglass until Anthony let it move, and, as if by sheer will, Anthony could suddenly see beyond just the water and sky.
He was vaguely aware of Loki stepping away as his gaze roamed across trees and cliffs. Ships came into view that blocked his gaze from the land, but he could make out off-white buildings with pinkish tiles for roofing. They spread for what seemed like miles inland and mingled with tall palm trees. Anthony lowered the spyglass with a bright smile, feeling his heart racing with the usual feeling of a new discovery. He turned towards his right where Loki was once again reclining.
"Cuba?" He asked, smiling brightly. Loki smiled back himself, the expression oddly soft on his lips.
"Cuba," the captain answered with a nod. He pushed himself from the railing and walked further onto the deck as Anthony peered back through the glass at the new land before him. Goldie dropped his palm to his shoulder and squeezed.
"Excited, lad?"
"Aye!" Anthony answered eagerly.
"Ahoy, lads!" Goldie turned at the sound of Loki's voice. Anthony did too, recognizing it as that quiet commanding from the day of his skirmish. It was odd, how quickly the captain's demeanor shifted to match those around him.
The captain stood atop the railing before the helm of the ship, his hair free of its binds and moving with the breeze. The crew cheered to show he had their attention, to which he bowed. "We are off the coast of Havana and approaching rapidly. I thank you all for your dedication - we have arrived faster than planned!" The crew cheered again; Goldie chuckled beside him.
"As I am sure you all remember, Cuba was quite sad to see us go the last time," Loki said with a smirk; the men began to cackle and holler. Anthony didn't miss Goldie stiffening beside him, and wondered when he would learn the history of Cuba.
"Regrettably, this voyage will be less riotous." Loki reached behind him and held his hand out; one of the men handed him a blue and red bundle. "Which is why we shall fly under the guise of King George." He held up a wrinkled Union Jack and snapped the fabric until it fully unfurled. "Borrowed from the late Cavalier, of which I believe we shall have more use than she."
Anthony swallowed down his flaring anger as Loki tossed the flag over to Penn. "Mr. Penn, if you would be so kind as to fly this filth for our docking."
"Aye!" Penn saluted Loki and scrambled up the nearest rigging.
"For the rest of you," Loki said, glancing over his men. "Be as calm and courteous as pirates are. Do try to not get yourselves killed."
The crew cheered as Laufey dropped from the railing and took back the helm. Anthony still held his spyglass, knuckles white from how tightly he clenched. His anger was insurmountable, unyielding - just when he believed these pirates could be any more than that, he was proved wrong. Jack was right to warn him.
"Tony," Goldie said, dropping his hand over one of his clenched ones. "Let's be gettin' back below deck, now."
Anthony nodded and relaxed his grip. Goldie wasn't like the rest - Goldie he trusted. The older pirate took the spyglass and passed it to another with the order to take it to Laufey. "Between ye and me, Tony," he began as they opened the trap door. Anthony hummed and looked over. Goldie paused, eyes cast towards the helm, to Laufey.
"It ain't 'ese men I be worried 'bout gettin' killed," he said softly, voice laced with worry. Anthony blinked, feeling some of his anger whittle away, as he followed his gaze.
Laufey was calling orders to every available man as he steered the ship, their speed slowing as sails snapped in the wind above them. His hair whipped around his face but he hardly seemed affected - Tenny produced the captain's hat and passed it over. In the time it took to simply put on a hat, Laufey looked the dastardly pirate captain he was meant to be.
"What happened in Cuba?" Anthony asked, his eyes transfixed on the emeralds and gold thread that hung from his hat and caught the light of the sun in the wind.
"Nothin' good, Tony," Goldie answered ominously. "Nothin' good."
A/N: See, if I were the captain I would totally listen to Goldie. He's got his shit together, know what I mean? Leave comments below! I need them. :)