Sunflower
This story was originally published by Déponia in French. You're reading a translation.
A note from the author, Déponia :
Hello,
I haven't been able to write in months, so I didn't see myself getting back to it with a big project. Therefore I made this little one-shot about a scene that was stuck in my head.
I hope you'll enjoy your reading!
The plan had been trickier than usual.
There had been a dozen of them thinking about the best way to get rid of their captain. In the end, it had been up to Edward who devised almost the entire strategy that would allow them to circumvent the old man's paranoia. Yet even he had struggled quite a bit. That was proof, no doubt, of why, at 39, Benjamin Hornigold had managed to stay at the head of his crew.
First of all, they had to make sure their teammates were unhappy. And since the captain systematically refused to board English vessels, it was rather easy to drift a little too close to their trade line and see raids slip through their fingers. Well, not exactly easy, no. Edward had had to pay the navigator himself and come up with a plan that combined false maps, pulleys and curds to invent a new route. He was quite proud of this, by the way, and it was the right thing to do if he wanted to win a cabin in the near future.
Second of all, they had to weed out the captain's most fervent supporters; the luckiest had seen their cabins invaded by rats and had been forced to move to the other end of the ship, Ed had lost his own to the second-in-command, fortuitously his future captain had promised to avenge him once Hornigold was out.
And then came the most complicated part of the mutiny, making sure the quartermaster wouldn't stand in their way. Hornigold's second-in-command had been easy to mystify and had fled his cabin at the first sign of rodents, but Israël Hands was different. He was the most hated person on the ship, the most feared as well. Ridiculously rigorous, punishing every little infraction with gallons of blood, and if at first they'd thought they'd get away with it, the complexity of their plan had made him wary. He quickly sensed a mutiny and ended up taking watch outside the captain's door.
As frustrating as it had been to see their strategy challenged, it was also another opportunity to shine, probably even the most significant. The future captain was set on giving the first mate's job to Kausner and his fantastic stories of navigating the Strait of Magellan, but Kausner hadn't been brilliant enough to combat the strategy he'd finely crafted. He'd talked to Milburn the night before, and knew that once he took over, he'd have his cabin and second pick on all the treasures!
It was his plan which lead him to stay hidden under an onion-smelling bed, the only way to keep out the rats they had put in the week before, with sole company a saw he had use earlier in the day to cut the walls between three of the cabins.
At last, Milburn arrived. He breathed out a happy sigh and solemnly promised himself to never go near those onions ever again.
In silence, one after the other, they slipped into the captain's quarters.
Kausner's body collapsed before his ears even caught the sound of the bullet leaving the barrel.
A candle lit the room just enough to make out the incandescent gaze of a leader far less ignorant than they had imagined.
"I think we've got something to talk about, you traitors!"
Israël Hands had always hated living on a ship. He didn't resent his job nor life at sea, rather he hated the promiscuity, or to be more precise: he hated the people, their noise, their cruel jokes and their random behavior. He loved order, silence and obedience, and his position as Quartermaster assured him all of that. Since he'd been given the responsibility to keep the crew in line, he'd never been happier. Hornigold was a sadistic prick and his British patriotism regularly reduced the gold in their pockets, but he wouldn't risk his position for anything in the world.
Every six month, the first mate would hire several new faces. Most of them were incompetents but eventually they were all brought up to speed by Izzy, and those who were too slow would join Davy Jones. After weeks of stress, there was nothing like the peaceful feeling of a well-ordered ship.
All the people Hornigold had hired since his promotion as Quartermaster had gone through lashes, weeks of fasting or days in the cells, for the lucky ones. Even the most experienced fell short of his expectations even though those were perfectly simple for a life at sea.
Or at least, that had been the case up until the previous year.
There was a newcomer, a young lad, ten years younger than him, who wasn't used to obedience. You could see it in his proud and mocking posture. Izzy had immediately planned to punish him within the day, or even within the hour if possible. He was ready to take this youngster in his hand as quickly as possible to ensure relative calm. He was barely an adult, so Izzy could understand that he had a certain indiscipline about him, and it was his role as Quartermaster to educate him properly.
But surprisingly, his piercing gaze had not been able to detect the slightest fault for months. He whipped old sailors, forced drunken idiots to fast, sent a one-armed man to the barnacles once, and yet his watch never wavered. A new batch arrived, he educated them, then another. And the year passed without Izzy finding anything to reproach him for.
Edward Teach didn't obey orders, nor did he disobey them; he was always in between, where his genius softened the work and guided the ship out of the worst storms.
He would watch him sniff the air in the morning and find a room to sleep in on rainy nights, he would watch him mend a sail and it would catch the wind stronger than it ever had before, he would watch him connect the pulleys together and a triple shift would be reduced to his mere presence. Hornigold had finally noticed this arrogant young man with such a sharp mind and had ordered Izzy to put him in his place, and even when actively trying to make him do something wrong, he had failed.
Gradually, smoothly, Izzy ended up slowing down his movements in his surroundings, admiring the view, letting himself be lulled by his perspicacity, sometimes even abandoning his individual cabin to have lunch in the mess and hear the fabulous stories in an admiring hubbub.
But in the end, his responsibilities took over. They had come across three English ships in a row within a few days, he had seen the murmurs of displeasure grow, Jack bemoaned that rum cut with rainwater to last longer was a shame, Kan wanted to send money to the child he had abandoned in port, Four-Eyes needed a cream for his wrinkled skin. None of them dared try to talk about mutiny out loud, especially when he was around, but many were thinking about it.
For days now, instead of spending his evenings listening to Edward's captivating tales, his words charming the crew, he had been stuck in front of his boss's door. He would almost have blamed himself for wasting his time if he hadn't already witnessed the massacres that followed mutinies. He couldn't risk losing Edward, or his own life, over some trivial little pleasant evening.
The sound of his captain's revolver exploded in the next room — no-one had walked past him! He was awake! He was there! How could he have failed?
He ran for the door, rapier drawn.
An angry mob was facing his captain, their eyes glittering with hatred, one body already on the ground, he smelled Jack's stench, and that didn't surprise him and Izzy thrust his sword into the other man's shoulder.
"Damn you! Jack!"
That voice petrified him as he became aware of Edward Teach's presence.
The scene froze, while the mutineers saw themselves as already dead. Israël Hands was a swordsman of genius. Hornigold had already found his next target, two men were down, one of whom would never breathe again. There was no escape from the two threats facing them.
Izzy didn't know what to do. He loved his job, with all his heart, and he would do anything to keep it, but there was Edward. Edward, who had become the keystone of his existence, who had opened up a whole new horizon in Izzy's life, a genius that no one would ever be able to match. He didn't want to return to the banality of his daily routine when he had finally glimpsed something completely different.
The panic in his mind calmed down in a matter of seconds. The decision was made as his captain, sure of his victory, glared at the mutineers. Hornigold had his back to him, he had no doubt of Izzy's loyalty, he knew what the position of Quartermaster meant to him. Unfortunately, he didn't know what Edward meant to him.
He didn't need to look to aim for the jugular. Benjamin Hornigold's cry of incomprehension escaped his lips and he died before his brain could integrate his own fatal error.
The cabin fell silent as everyone looked at each other.
He had thought no further than his survival and when he looked at the nine people facing him he could see dozens of possible outcomes. He wouldn't lower his weapon until he had some idea of what was going to happen next.
There were ten of them, all of them armed and ready to kill, and yet none of them moved. No one understood. Israël Hands' loyalty was celebrated by all, no one could think that the little man had the slightest ambition to betray his superior, and if there was one person no mutineer would have thought of including it was him. And yet it was his rapier that was dripping blood before their eyes.
"Who will be the captain?"
The rough voice broke the tension on the mutineers' side, and Edward didn't manage to tell Milburn to watch out before the man answered proudly.
"Me! You'll keep your place, you're…"
He didn't have to finish his sentence before the blade plunged again, into his heart. It was more the startled reaction of his companions that surprised Edward. It was clear that Israël Hands would not be tamed by just anyone. Hornigold had given him a job that had suited him for years, but he hadn't hesitated for a second before betraying him. He couldn't see why he would follow them if they offered him nothing.
"Who will be the captain?" he asked again.
Silence answered him. Technically, with Milburn dead, Kausner could have fought with Edward to claim the title, but he too was dead. Everyone knew that, but everyone liked him and no one wanted to end his life by denouncing him to the executioner.
Jack could see only one explanation for this stab in the back. Izzy wanted what every pirate before him had ever wanted. He couldn't imagine him succeeding, but until dawn at least, he was prepared to propose:
"You?"
"No."
Izzy's gaze never wavered from the figure of Edward Teach. It was the first time that Ed had realised the power of his gaze, that he realised his admiration and that he finally understood the reason behind his presence, always so close. His intuition tingled and he tried:
"Me?"
"Alright, captain. What are your orders?"
Here we are,
What do you think? Don't hesitate to leave a comment beneath!
See you next time,
Déponia
