Lucius bends to retrieve his notebook and quill from the floor, then rushes to the deck to meet the remaining crew. There's redness and soreness to his throat muscles and tendons as he clears his throat, and it causes him to wince in discomfort. The first person he meets is Frenchie, who leans against the railing and provides a sing-song as the other members finalize their tidying services. It's not the done thing, which mandates the ship to be docked on a sandbar and wholly disinfected and sanitized from top to bottom, yet a daily — or weekly — maintenance chore keeps the vessel in tip-top condition. Though they chain jointly to complete their tasks swiftly, a give-or-take rough draft of the preening roster includes:
Frenchie: The Recreational Room
The Swede: The Ball Room & The Head
Wee John: Arsenal
Jim & Oluwande: Laundry & Private Quarters (excluding En Suite & Captain's Quarters)
Roach: The Galley
Buttons: Helm/Crow's Nest/Fo'c'sle
Black Pete: Flags/Chains/Mizzen/Shrouds
Blackbeard's Crew has seized the En Suite and the Jam Room. Their slumbering arrangements are inclusive, but it's likely to assume that the three highest-ranking men of the opposing unit are in the Jam Room, and their Boss Man may have comfortably redecorated the En Suite to suit his conditions. If it was up to the Revenge Crew, they would've squashed them all in one room and called it a day.
The boy hasn't determined his stance on his captain's brusque vacancy. The scribe-slash-right-hand has seen his captain without the drab garments and suspects there's more to him than being a wealthy civilian from Barbados. The older man's body speaks for itself, though without ridicule: It's not overly-defined, yet he's muscular, meaty, and buff; it's noticeable that there's untried strength and power, and the ordeal from earlier affirms this. Lucius wouldn't voice it aloud, but he likes a man with some game on him, and his captain is no oddity.
Why does the captain submit with ignorance and naïvety when he's everything but?
Frenchie notices the uneasiness of his crewmate, so he halts his lute plucking and asks, "Oi, mate, are you OK?"
The youngster is scatterbrained; his eyes are unfocused, and his breathing is ragged as he scans the deck. Which side does his dishevelment fall on — desire or fear? He responds, "Fine? No, I'm never that. But, we really need a Crew Council."
Black Pete wavers his chore of re-knotting something around the deck and runs a cloth over his face and head. Next, he steps alongside his boyfriend and questions, "We already need another Crew Council, babe? Whatever for?"
"Well, this time, it's not about mutining the man who feeds and pays us if that's what you're wondering, yet it is about him," badmouths Lucius in upheaval. It's uncertain why the situation with Captain Bonnet, Blackbeard, and Blackbeard's First-Mate Izzy Hands troubles him, but it's noticeable that the influence is heightened. Not too long ago, he coincided with mutining the captain, yet he suddenly has a change of heart.
Black Pete, acknowledging the graveness of his boyfriend, advises Frenchie to inform the remaining crew, then pivots and signals to his First-Mate at the helm. The signal for Crew Council is as such: Raise your left hand, create a "gun" with your thumb, index, and middle finger, rotate your hand clockwise, then pull down as if you're tugging a pulley-horn. The Swede was the culprit who established such a fascinating, non-verbal call, and the crew just shrugged and ran with it. It's actually kind-of fun once you execute it in real-time.
Buttons deliver a nod, and Karl cheeps in understanding from his perch on his owner's head. Two never-ending subjects on the Revenge are how their First-Mate became an animal-whisperer and how the animals haul about the ship as if they comprehend humans.
"Hey," softly whispers Pete now that he and the boy are isolated, "what's going on?"
Shakingly, the scribe rubs a hand over his throat and ganders to the left at the door leading to the hallway he and the captain occupied not too long ago. He looks at Black Pete and then declares with a tremble, "Something is wrong with the captain, almost sinful-like."
Frenchie booms a three-beat rhythm with his hands on both walls as he strolls the hallway leading to the private quarters and the galley. Musically, the rhythm is counted as 1, 2&, 3. He purposefully skips the closed door of the en suite, and he speedily disregards the Jam Room as if he doesn't notice the malicious gazes of Blackbeard's Crew as the men sit in chairs assembled in a circular format with their forearms resting on their knees and their heads bent forward as they lowly converse. Briefly, Izzy turned his head towards the entranceway with a bothered expression about the commotion.
"To the Crew of the Revenge," he noisily starts with a smirk, then resumes with ambiguity to mystify the ship's guests, "stop what you're doing, and listen to this for a moment." He lets a beat pass, then claps once, stomps his left and right foot, and then claps thrice. It's an alternative Crew Council summon. This rhythm is intricate for the crew, so they dislike counting yet adequately relish in shadowing.
"Here you!" acknowledges Roach from the back, followed by a chorus of aye! from The Swede, Wee John, Jim, and Oluwande.
In the Jam Room, Izzy raises his hand in a quiet manner to Fang and Ivan, then silently rises and moves to the doorless entranceway. He peeks around the corner and notices Frenchie remaining in the corridor. Following, he squints his eyes, wonders what the Low-Lives of the Revenge are obscuring, and then returns to his seat.
"What is it, boss?" asks Ivan as his second-in-command superior sits down.
Izzy shakes his hand and answers, "I don't know, but they're up to something."
In his quarters, Stede carries his kusari-fundo and effortlessly swings the weapon in a circular rotation as he spins in circles with his head angled towards the ceiling. Almost as if in a trance, he's reiterating, "I'm adequate," as he does so, and frankly, words can't describe how disturbing it is. He removed his pink-and-white outfit (which, ironically, is difficult to dress yet easier to remove). He began to transition into some dramatic, full-black guise before he ceased halfway. Now, he adores unbuttoned pants with knee-lacing, but that's it; he's shirtless and bootless. The captain suddenly halts, pivots, and strolls to one of his large nightstands. Lowering and kneeling to one knee, he presses his right ear to the wood and uses his left hand to locate the correct puncture to unlock the secret compartment. What's inside is unexpected for a so-called Gentleman Pirate.
Inside one (out of an indefinite hoard) of Stede Bonnet's nightstand secret compartments are twelve polished, flower-embroidered Flintlock pocket pistols that are neatly resting on a grey cloth in a four-by-three style. The golden-haired man seizes two weapons in his hand and lazily spins them. The mirror attached to his wardrobe closet is to his right, so he dramatically slides to the side and scrutinizes his reflection. He takes consideration of his buff arms, chest, and abdomen, and loose, black pants around his waist; his kusari-fundo is wrapped around his neck, and his Flintlocks are grasped in each hand.
"If he's the Mad Devil for bearing nine pistols, what does that make me with this one drawer of twelve pistols?" he ponders. He stares at his reflection for a few beats, then slowly raises his pistols and points them at his head in the mirror. Next, he answers his inquiry with commitment: "The Devil Incarnate is Stede Bartholomew Bonnet, and the world will know it."
Roach is completing his kitchen sterile when a guest enters the galley. His back is to the entranceway as he dries the dishes and stores them in their proper spot when Blackbeard seems to materialize. The long-haired man softly clears his throat and clasps his hands behind his back. He's being patient and respectful; it's something Bonnet guided him with to prepare for that extravagant party not too long ago.
The Revenge's Cook turns around to grab another utensil when the additional presence startles him. He expresses with a stunner, "Oh, Mister Blackbeard, sir. I didn't see you there. How can I help you, sir?"
"Oh, um, hello," he cautiously begins as he attempts to reiterate what he's learned, "Can I please have a cup of ale?"
The curly-haired man stares at the valiant pirate, then says in acceptance, "Oh, well, of course, you can, sir!" He hurriedly crafts the man's beverage and then hands it to him.
"Cheers, mate. Oh, and there's no-need for the sir thing," appreciates Blackbeard with a raise of his cup before he turns and exits the galley.
He wanders the hallway and notices the uncommon soundlessness regarding a bunch like the Revenge Crew, who's usually rowdy and lively. He continues, aiming to enter the en suite, when he remembers that his crew is in the Jam Room. He turns into the room and sees the trio in their circle.
"Aw, guys, you're having a Pirate Ring without me?" he brassily comments with a hand over his heart.
Izzy rolls his eyes and reacts, "Edward, I've told you that we're not calling it that. But, yeah, we're having one."
There's an extended beat as the Boss Man regards his highest-ranking men. He knows he's graining on their nerves since he knows Pirate Rings are rigidly captain-less, but if he doesn't do it, who will? Edward dramatically rolls his eyes and releases a heavy breath. Next, he points a thumb over his shoulder and asks, "So, where's the lot gone to? They're unusually quiet."
"We don't know, but they're up to something. Earlier, the boss here saw — and heard — them scheduling something in code," explains Ivan.
Edward nods and locks eyes with Izzy. The First-Mate reminds the captain as he points upwards: "It's time."
The Mad Devil firmly nods and exits the room.