A/N: TWO UPLOADS IN ONE DAY! YAY :) I hope this means that if I can't upload another chapter the following week you won't be too disappointed with me ^_^ Enjoy your chapter :P
Chapter 6:
"Are we sailing for Nassau?" I find myself asking, watching the brilliant blue water of the sea splash against the sides of Edward's Brig. I lean against the side of the ship, my chin placed firmly in the palm of my hand, my legs crossed against the solid wood to allow my weight to be rested purely on the ship.
Compared to the disaster earlier that day, with the hurricane and the waterspouts and the rogue waves and just… everything… the turquoise-blue water and luminescent sun upon the horizon, which casted a loving shadow over the occasional island and the Brig itself, was a welcome reprieve from the fast-paced life I had been living over the previous days. Thinking it over, I really hadn't stopped moving since arriving in 1715 – I'd gone from being threatened by a man I now considered somewhat a friend, to sailing for Havana, finding out that I had somehow managed to plunge myself back in time, to assisting Edward with a break-in that ended in our arrest and passage aboard Torres's Spanish Fleet, to being thrust into a high-speed escape from both a tempest and perusing enemy ships. It was honestly nice just relaxing aboard the vessel, watching the world sail by as we headed for our next destination which, without a doubt, would be filled with a collection of escapades.
I was both excited and terrified.
What exactly have I gotten myself into? I wonder, smiling as I watch a pod of dolphins wander up to the slow-paced transport, their sleek bodies clearly visible beneath the crystal waters of the Caribbean. Oh well, at least the scenery is amazing.
"First, we'll probably have to stop for some supplies," Edward eventually answers, fiddling with the helm lazily, "after that, we'll head straight for the colony."
"Isn't Nassau home to pirates?"
"Exactly," he says with an enthusiastic grin, acknowledging Adéwalé as he makes his way towards Edward. "I've made my choice, Adé," he says to the larger man, the new nickname rolling off Edward's tongue as easily as mine often did, "I'm calling her the Jackdaw, for a sly bird I loved as a child in Swansea." He strokes the ships helm lovingly as he says it, his grey eyes drifting towards the bow of the ship, the endless sea stretching before us.
"A dark little creature, no?" Adéwalé humbly inquires, but I can't help but hear the bite in his words.
"Are you upset?" I ask, taking a few hesitant steps towards the stranger – at least, he was still a stranger to me – curiosity once again pushing me forward into matters that weren't my own, "are you upset that Edward took the Brig for his own?"
"Ha-ha," he chuckles, shaking his head in amusement at my obviously unnecessary concern, "it is a rub, Fair Lady, I have learned to endure sailing amongst faces of such…" he pauses, studying both Edwards' face and my own with a bemused smirk. "Fairness," he eventually decides upon, shaking his head at my bewildered expression.
"Oh," I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself. I forget about the racial discrimination during these times, Shaun would mock me for my oversight, I scold myself, turning my face back towards the calm sea, but it makes sense. This was a common time for slavery and unfortunately Adéwalé fits the bill.
"It's true," Edward begrudgingly admits, shaking his head in what I assume is disappointment, "most of these men wouldn't accept you as a Captain… so, what fair role would complement such unfairness?"
"I'll be your Quartermaster. Nothing less," Adéwalé responds, leaning against the railing separating what I assume is the upper deck – where the helm was located – from the lower deck, where the rest of the crew scurried about, keeping themselves preoccupied atop such a fair, albeit dull, sea – well, it must be monotonous to them. For me? It was certainly more beautiful rather than dull.
"Alright," Edward agrees, taking the helm once more with both hands but still focusing on Adéwalé's lounging form, "and as Quartermaster, have you any immediate counsel for his novice captain?"
"Didn't you say we need supplies?" I ask, desperate to be helpful in some way.
"Right again, Fair Lady," Adéwalé agrees to my satisfaction, my cheeks reddening at his use of 'Fair Lady' when addressing me, "rest and repast would do us good before heading to Nassau. Water for drinking. And hunting for food and repairs."
"Well reasoned, sir," came Edward's reply, "hunting it shall be. We'll find a decent place to drop anchor."
"And where exactly will we do that?" I inquire hesitantly, gesturing out at the almost-empty landscape, "There's not much around here."
"The islands, Tess," Edward informs me, glancing at my willowy form from out of the corner of his eye to rest upon me as I lean against the ships sturdy rail, "where else?"
"Oh," comes my seemingly frequent response. Turning back to the turquoise sea, I resume my inspection of the crystal clear water and the barren landscape. Relishing in the brief sunlight dancing on the skyline, the dolphin pod still dutifully swimming beside the Brig, I find myself once again wondering just how I managed to get myself into this situation.
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"So, all he's got to do is hunt a few animals and then we'll be on our way?"
Adéwalé turns to face me as I watch Edward leap off the starboard side of the ship and into the clear waters of the islands bay. His lean form pushes through the calm waters towards the shore with urgency, so to come back faster with the necessary supplies. With a murmur of agreement, Adéwalé leans against the ships starboard side with me and watches the sunset as he answers my question, "the ship is in dire need of repair. We need to toss the cannons, clear the Gundeck, repair the ship…"
"Was it in really that bad of a state after the storm?" I enquire, angling my face towards him with an expression of surprise. I hadn't realised the extent of the damage towards the ship; it hadn't looked that bad to me. After all, I was simply astonished that the wooden and somewhat frail vessel had actually managed to combat and survive the typhoon and the artillery from challenging ships. I was stupefied by the fact that this ship – so different from the ones of my own time and perhaps far les superior to those – had managed to keep us afloat, had allowed us to survive.
"A clutter of linstocks heaped like tinder," Adéwalé replies with disgust in his voice, as he describes the scene of the Gundeck from earlier, "one with a slowmatch still burning. And just nearby, two barrels of gunpowder fit to explode at the touch of a spark – luckily, we have storage space to stow the remaining barrels good and proper… the supplies that the captain is gathering will be necessary to maintain the ship and will allow him to fashion himself a brand new holster for a pistol – if he manages to catch enough prey. Speaking of which," he says, meeting my curious gaze, "what exactly happened to the pistol that Edward gave you prior to boarding this Brig?"
"The pistol?" I enquire, blinking with confusion before I remember the old gun that Edward had thrust into my hands aboard the prison ship. "I – ah – lost it," I admit sheepishly, fiddling with the cuff of my sleeve, reluctant to meet Adéwalé's knowing gaze, "when we were swimming in those rough seas towards the ship… do you think Edward will mind?"
"No, I was just curious."
"Speaking of curiosity," I hesitantly begin, nervous of the much larger and no doubt stronger man beside me, but still interested in the man himself, "what exactly were you doing on the ship?"
"Ah… well, I was sailing aboard a ship much like this but we ran aground off the coast of Havana and were captured by Spanish authorities," allowing himself a heavy sigh, Adéwalé shoots me a weary grin as he continues with his story, "I was born into slavery and working at a plantation when pirates raided the place and killed my master. I stole a crate of sugar and helped them pillage the damn place – as a reward, they allowed me to remain with their crew. When the Spanish authorities pulled the ship up, I was able to keep my life through my fluency in English, French and Spanish – they were sending me to Spain to be an interpreter. And, well, you know the rest."
"So you found yourself chained alongside Edward and broke free, incapacitated a number of guards, set me free and then procured this very ship, along with a number of freed captured pirates and escaped one Hell of a storm to end up on this island in the middle of nowhere," I summarise in one breath with an accompanying laugh, "Edward seems to get a lot of people into his own messes."
"It was my idea to seize this Brig," Adéwalé patiently reminds me, "technically, it was I who dragged the two of you into my plans."
"Hmph, either way, we've ended up as a crew."
"How about you?" he suddenly asks after a brief moment of silence, "what did you do to get you shackled to a beam within a heavily armed ship?"
"It's a long story," I sigh, running a hand absently through my messy locks as I do, struggling to come up with the appropriate story to detail to my fellow crewmate. "The short version is we were caught, falsely accused and imprisoned aboard the Spanish Treasure Fleet, much to Edward and my own frustration."
"You two look like you're having a great time," came Edward's sarcastic opinion unexpectedly to my right as he hoists himself, wet and exhausted, onto the deck of his ship, "can I join in on the conversation?"
"Edward!" I call out happily; jogging to his side and giggling as he shakes his head, droplets of seawater sprinkling against my face as he does so, "welcome back."
"Ahoy Captain," Adéwalé says, sauntering forwards, "did you find what you need?"
"My needs and wants are oceans apart, mate," comes his unnecessarily complicated response. Grunting when I elbow him in his side, he rolls his eyes and ruffles my already untidy hair, persisting upon answering Adéwalé's question. "But I did manage to fashion myself a new holster and gather some supplies that we can sell in Nassau, to make repairs for the ship. All I need now is a pistol to lie in it. Tess, where's the one I gave you?"
"I… I lost it," I squeak out, flinching at Edward's dumbfounded expression, "I'm sorry, I lost track of it when we were swimming towards the Jackdaw… to be honest, it's a miracle I managed to keep track of you in that heinous weather."
"Here," Adéwalé says, extending towards Edward a pistol which seems to have appeared out of nowhere. At my own dumbfounded look, Adéwalé allows himself a quick chuckle before hastily explaining to me that he located it within the hold of the ship. Honestly, if Adéwalé managed to procure that pistol through magic, I wouldn't be surprised – I was after all a 21st century women that had somehow wound up in the 18th century.
Anything was possible.
"Hm, it's little more than a blowpipe," Edward grunts, testing the weight of his new weaponry in his hand, "but it'll do," he eventually concedes, placing the firearm in its fresh holster.
"Don't be picky," I scold, following him as he makes his way back towards the steering wheel of the ship, my steps doubling to match his lengthy stride, "you're lucky Adéwalé managed to unearth something from below deck."
"I'm not being picky," he argues, taking his position at the helm, "just stating a fact. Are we rested, Adé? Or shall we idle a while longer?"
"Best weigh anchor," Adéwalé answers from behind me, following the two of us as we humbly bicker, "I think the crew is itching to reach civilisation."
With a chuckle, Edward turns to his new companion and smiles, shaking his head in amusement, "you'll find no civilisation in Nassau. But it's a fine place to be merry all the same."
"Oh for God sakes," I exclaim to both men's surprise, resting my hands on my narrowed hips, "I don't know about you two, but I'm starving, I desire a warm bed and I want to get out of this godforsaken dress and corset, because as much as it's fine in everyway, it's completely ruined and it's a miracle I can breathe with this stupid stay!" Blinking at my outburst, the men turn to look at each other, confused as to how to answer me. "So," I continue, strolling towards the helm and resting a hand on the large wheel, looking Edward deadest in the eye with all the seriousness I can muster, "can we go or not?"
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Although it pained me to admit it; Edward was right.
It was clear upon our arrival that Nassau could hardly be called a civilisation.
Despite it being the largest city, capital, and commercial centre of the Bahamas – as Edward informed me – the city was little more than a seaside shanty town, the only notable building being the large and possibly heavily-armed fort situated atop the island, overlooking its bay. Unlike Havana, which had an air of authority assisted through the presence of navy and land-based soldiers, Nassau emanated a sense of freedom – an untameable providence bordered by lush, overgrown scenery which no doubt housed a collection of wild animals.
"So, it's a republic?" I ask Edward once we land on the shore.
"Correct," Edward answers, helping me out of the small rowboat we used to make it inland, his hands gently guiding and supporting my swaying form as I once again begin the painful process of managing to walk on solid land. "It is a self-appointed Pirate Republic, operating under a revolutionary form of government. A free and liberated place."
"You sound fond of it," I say with a small smile, amused with his tangible excitement, which had been present long before our arrival to the town.
"It's…" he pauses, struggling to find the right words.
"Home?" I offer, recalling the word from one of our earlier conversations.
"Yes… home."
"Go on, Captain Queernabs!" a voice echoes across the beach as we move further inland, "tell me I'm under arrest… tell me!"
Pelting past us, a red coat man scrambles for safety, his face pale and terrified – it was almost amusing, if I wasn't so petrified at the prospect of meeting more pirates myself. "Friends of yours?" I inquire faintly, glancing at Edward who wears his familiar, devil-may-care smile.
"Fly away, boyo!" calls the other man before Edward can answer, waving his hand at the escaping man, his voice laced with mirth at the display, "run back to your master!"
"Aye," comes Edward's eventual reply, his own voice supressing the laughter I knew lay hidden, "we were privateers together before the wars ended… I'll introduce you."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I hiss pointlessly, because, like always, Edward ignores my reply and saunters forward, grabbing my hand once he realises I am not following his lead.
"Come," he instructs, towing me towards the town, determination and excitement quickening his step, "we'll head to the Old Avery Tavern… they'll all be there, easier to make the introduction to the group. Less work for me."
"Edward!" I cry, stumbling over the fraying skirt and loose pebbles as we make our way into the capital, towards a reasonably sound-looking structure, which, judging from the rowdy shouts and drunken singing, is the tavern Edward had just mentioned. "Is this really a good idea?"
Before he can reply, one of the voices from earlier speaks up and drowns all of my hopes as fast as the men at the bar guzzle their rum, "by God, you're a sight for salty eyes! Come in and have a drink."
Shooting me a triumphant grin, Edward drops my hand and strolls confidently into the pub, feeling as ease here as he does on his ship. And, not knowing quite what to do and feeling out of place amongst the bawdy drunkards, I find myself following Edward obediently, choosing to study the dusty wooden floorboards rather than meet the eyes of his fellow pirates.
"Morning all," Edward replies cheerfully.
"Ahoy Kenway," responds the other voice and I hear the distinct clink of two glasses being handed over. There's a brief pause and then suddenly, "who's this?"
Jerking my head upright, I try to rearrange my distinctly horrified expression into one that is more pleasing but the smile dies on my lips as the men scrutinise me. The one who had asked for my identity studies me with his murky grey eyes, a smile curling his lips whilst the other looks upon me with gentle eyes, aura of sophistication and authority radiating off both him and his companion. Both are ordered and neat in appearance, despite their reasonably scruffy attire which seems to be common amongst all pirates.
It was strange that, despite my terror, I could look upon the two men opposite me and only assess them on their appearances. It's completely shallow, I think, offering the two a shy smile, but oddly comforting… after all, they're just two guys… two guys who could easily kill me if they wished!
"Theresa North," Edward introduces, clapping my shoulder, which causes my imbalanced body to stumble forwards, "sorry Tess, didn't mean to hit you so hard."
"I'm fine," I croak, waving away his concerns and straightening the front of my ruined gown the best I could, "no need to worry yourself."
"Who said I was worried?"
Glaring at him, I quickly mutter 'ass' under my breath which judging from his friends' loud chortles, it was very clear that they could hear me.
"And who are you?" the same man inquires, nodding over at Adéwalé who comes up behind his Captain silently, acknowledging me with a small smile and gesture in my direction.
"Adéwalé, the Jackdaws' Quartermaster," Edward answers proudly, nodding towards the bay where the silhouette of the Jackdaw can be clearly seen from the tavern's veranda
"Jackdaw?" the man scoffs, shaking his head with amusement, "you named your Brig after a proxy bird?"
"And what's wrong with that?" I snap, folding my arms over my chest, strangely insulted by the strange man's laughter. Despite the ship not being my own, it was the vessel that got myself, Edward, Adéwalé and the rest of our crew out of peril and as a result, I found myself fiercely protective of the sly ship.
"I like her Kenway," the other man informs his fellow pirate, clasping his shoulder, "she's got spunk."
I don't know how to respond to that.
"Adé, Tess, these men are the better part of our growing confederacy here. This is Edward Thatch, Ben Hornigold," he nods over at another men lounging beside, a bottle in his hand, half-hidden by the shade of the sun, "James Kidd."
"Pleasure," I say sarcastically, my eyes locked on Thatch whose name immediately rings a bell. So that's the notorious Blackbeard and the famous Hornigold… impressive company you keep, Edward.
Adéwalé simply nods at the trio and hastens towards the bar, clearly ready for a glass or two of alcohol – personally I don't blame him, but after my last experience with the beverage, I'd rather steer clear of the dark liquid.
"You let him carry a pistol, do you?" Hornigold whispers, edging closer to Edward.
Disgusted, I glare at the well-kept man, snarling, "Adéwalé saved both of our lives. You're judgement is unwelcome and unappreciated."
Hearing my response, Adéwalé raises his pitcher of rum in gratitude and I can't help but feel a little pleased that I was able to support a very trustworthy man from Hornigold and Blackbeard's scrutiny.
"Oh yes, I like her!" Thatch laughs, throwing an arm around my shoulders to my combined disgust and astonishment, "glad to have you around lass, it was getting to be a little dull around here."