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It could be called luck, if anything could be called luck when you are floating, tied to a wood board, face to the sky, bound to die alone.
Anyway, at least there was no sun to burn my eyes out. Only creeping fog.
All my thoughts eventually turned into a sharp pain, and I hoped and begged for the Sea to swallow me, but ladies and I never had much understanding. So I just closed my eyes.
I thought no less than two eternities passed before I heard something besides the murmur of waves, and it was voices. A tiny part of my aching brain that was alive enough to think informed me that they didn't belong to my former crewmates (to put it neutrally) and I allowed myself to feel hope. This, however, stripped me of any crumb of energy I had left, and I gave up on trying to see.
"Man overboard!"
I was lifted to the ship and put in the shadow of a sail.
"He's dead," a raspy, moderately high voice pronounced morbidly.
"No, he's breathing, don't you see?" someone else exclaimed.
"Well, he'll be dead soon then," the first person huffed.
“Can I hit him?” the third one asked eagerly.
“No! Of course not!”
This fourth voice was much softer, however indignant, and sounded very noble.
Thank Poseidon, I thought. It’s not a pirate ship.
“We are good people, Roach!”
“Are we, Captain?” Roach said, obviously confused. “We are pirates.”
Oh fuck, I thought.
“Well, yes, but we don’t kill people we have just fished out of the sea! Take him down, to the other one, and fetch him water, or some broth, or juice if you can make it quickly. Wee John, come, help him.”
They picked me up – the person who held the board where my feet were probably was stronger than the one on the other side, because I started slipping off upside down – and brought me inside.
"And don't forget to untie him this time!" the captain shouted after them.
At this moment, my body assumed that I was safe enough and didn't have to fight for my life any more and blacked out for good.
When I opened my eyes, I immediately figured out that I was in hell. Because, first, I certainly was dead; second, I was a dirty sinner; third, Heaven, most likely, wouldn't be that dark and barely lit with only a couple of soot-covered lanterns.
And Sebastian wouldn't be lying next to me, if all the above wasn't true.
He said – no, gasped, mouthed my name, and I started crying.
It would be ironic to choke on your own tears after escaping a death by drowning, wouldn't it? Ah, I forgot. I was already dead.
"No-no-no," someone yelped. He didn't sound like a demon, surprisingly. "Don't move, you shouldn't move!"
I tried finding the source of the voice, and however dazed, I succeeded. It was a very anxious looking man with soft features, a bit on a plumper side.
I looked at him stupidly, because I for sure wasn’t moving, but he jumped up to Sebastian and pressed him to the cot.
“You are weak,” he said, glanced at me and specified, “both of you, so don’t move! Please.”
“I’m hungry,” Sebastian muttered. “Could you bring me a piece of bread?”
“Oh, of course!” our guard gabbled. “Roach must’ve already prepared broth, I’ll be back in a second!”
Already at the door, he looked back at us and repeated strongly, “Don’t move!”
Naturally, once he was out of the room, we moved.
Sebastian all but fell from his cot, closed the small but difficult distance between us on his knees and I reached to him with all the energy I had.
“Antonio,” Sebastian prayed, “what is going on? How is it possible? By what miracle? God must’ve spared us!”
“Sebastian,” I could only say. “Sebastian.”
I wanted to tell him that I didn’t believe in any god any more, that everything wasn’t real, that it somehow was a miracle, and oh so many other things, but I could only cry and whisper his name between fervent kisses.
At some point the door to the room opened.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” our guard yelled, clumsily holding two big wooden bowls. “I told you not to move! Why is no one on this damn ship ever listening to me!”
We ignored him.
When we finished the broth, and the man – Lucius – decided we were strong enough to move, a hideous crewmate of his entered the room and croaked with a heavy Scottish accent.
“The captain invites you to his quarters. When you are ready, that is. And don’t try anything sketchy, I know your lot.”
He left, and Lucius mouthed in his wake, “Don’t mind him.”
He looked at us once again, estimating, and waved, “You look alright to me. I’ll take you to the captain, and if you don’t die on the way, then my job is done.”
“Oh hello, dear patients!” cried the captain, who looked as distinguished as he sounded. He motioned for us to join him at the table. “Would you like tea, or brandy, or perhaps,” he wrinkled his nose, “rum?”
“Tea will do, thank you,” Sebastian rushed to answer, and the captain smiled.
“Good! And I hope you would be so kind as to wait for the fourth member of our small tea party.”
We both nodded, partially because we didn’t want to make him angry and partially because, well… we felt as if we had all the time in the world now.
The arrival of the last guest was quite noticeable since all the crew outside greeted him with awe and so loud that we heard it through the walls. I didn’t manage to catch the name, though. They only called him ‘Captain’, which was strange, because I was fairly sure that the ship’s captain was with us in his quarters.
“Haaa!” the man entered, throwing the door open so hard it banged against the wall outside and flew back closed on its own.
“Haa,” the captain responded to this uncommon greeting with the same level of excitement, but less aggressively and maybe a little awkward, and sprang up to his feet to embrace him.
I saw the face of the newcomer and got cold all over. I glanced at Sebastian, and he looked none the better.
Everyone at sea, and many on land had heard at least something about the great and terrifying Blackbeard, and terrified they should have been since only shreds of the legends around his person were fiction. And yet, here he was, Blackbeard himself, standing horribly close to us, laughing and hugging our friend the captain.
“So,” the captain returned to the table, almost dragging the guest with him by the hand, “it’s time for us to finally make a proper acquaintance. My name is Stede Bonnet, simply Stede, and this is,” he raised his voice dramatically, “the notorious Blackbeard, but I think you know it already. You can call him Ed.”
“Don’t,” said “Ed”.
“Ah, he’s just joking!”
Blackbeard looked at me and Sebastian right in the eyes, and this look said “never call me that” so clearly I felt it with my skin.
“I don’t want to push you, but I would ki…” Stede coughed, “really like to hear your story. It’s not often you find in the sea a man on the brink of death, let alone two on the same day!”
“Well, actually, it’s much more common,” Blackbeard countered, and turned to us. “We still haven’t heard your names, fair gentlemen.”
“I’m Antonio,” I said, “and this is my friend, Sebastian.”
“We would prefer not to share our last names,” Sebastian added, gravely. “It’s better we are dead to the world.”
Stede nodded with understanding.
“I’ve been in situations like this. No one tied me to a wood board, though, but I had to fake my death.”
Blackbeard’s face suddenly went very dark.
“And then you came back here to keep doing these things you do and become famous,” he grunted, and Stede took his hands in his.
“I’ll never stop saying sorry for all of that. But please, let us listen to our guests for now,” Stede replied quietly.
“Alright,” Blackbeard shrugged, but the conflict seemed to hang in the air as smoke from the pipe he proceeded to light up.
Sebastian glanced at me and took it upon himself to tell them our story.
“So now we are here,” he finally summed up and sighed.
“Oh that’s awful!” the captains exclaimed at the same time, exchanged glances and laughed warmly at that.
“Sorry, we don’t mean to offend you,” Stede corrected himself, and this “we” sounded just the same as our “we” – mine and Sebastian’s.
“I suggest we burn their ship,” Blackbeard smiled, somehow both innocently and threateningly.
“No, Ed, no need for such bloodshed!”
“For a man whose damn ship is called “The Revenge”,” Blackbeard huffed, gesturing an arc in the air, “you take embarrassingly few revenges.”
“Anyway,” Stede clapped his lap with his hands, “you are welcome to stay here. On our… erm, my… our ship, love is love, everyone is valid and visible, if they want to be visible, of course, and provided with all the support they need.”
“Yup,” Blackbeard affirmed, smiling a bit stupidly. “Everything here is just as he said.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I don’t think burning their ship is necessary, and we would be happy to stay here. But not for long, though.”
Sebastian hummed, seconding me.
“We made some plans in case of… something like that. Visit Sebastian’s sibling, they are quite important where they live.”
I noticed that neither of the captains cared to ask or correct the pronoun, and it felt nice. Maybe the Revenge was indeed as gracious as Stede said.
“Ah, definitely! Consider yourselves at home. Let’s go meet the crew!”
We left the quarters two at the time, both pairs holding hands.
I could feel Sebastian was already happy here, and I could only feel as happy as him.