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Stede considered himself an expert in running away from his problems. Although on the rare occasion he could be driven to face things head on-in his own unique and ruinous way, cauterizing enemies with a few careful words or sharp movements. Which is why-and he understands that this may sound crazy to anyone who wasn’t there-but it is why Stede had to push Blackbeard out that window. Not because Stede had taken any particular zeal in the act of pushing Blackbeard out the window, but because in the moment he acted on instinct.
‘Shame that he lived through it,” Stede remarked when news reached the Revenge of Blackbeard's miraculous brush with death. But it was nothing compared to the fear that the high seas felt when they heard the name Stede Bonnet: vengeful wraith, phantom of the seas, living dead. And it was one of those dreadful names that Blackbeard called Stede when they first met.
An old friend-friend?-acquaintance (bully) of Stede’s was throwing an engagement party on the luxurious Ortolan Island, hosting the wealthy and noble alike. Stede blended right in, cloaked in his gossamer fabrics that were carefully arranged to reflect status. The heist of the century, arranged by a phoenix who rose from his ashes (“Oh, that’s good. Write that down,” Stede told Lucious) to burn down all those who had ever wronged him.
Oluwande had agreed to attend-disguised as a traveling prince from Africa. And Lucious had nothing better to do that night (his words) other than dress up like an inbred mouth breather (Jim’s words).
“Would you like to go, Jim?” Stede had asked. They peered down at Stede with a sneer,
“I’d rather stay here, Thanks.” And Stede couldn’t help but agree, he’d rather be anywhere that wasn’t a party. But the pay-off for this party was just too good to pass up.
The party’s host-Admiral Tenement-was a dry and stuffy man that carried a regalia saber wherever he went. The bride was-
“Positively nutty,” Lucius exclaimed, “She tried to stab me in the balls!” Oluwande stifled a laugh.
“The engagement was a bit of a surprise for poor, Lorelei,” Stede hummed. The Lady Lorelei Windsor-now Ms. Lorelei Tenement had moved to Barbados from London. She spoke with a barely contained fury that made anyone that spoke with her shy away. Stede was sympathetic, marriage could be a certain kind of prison that slowly chips away at you.
“I don’t care if she’s unhappy with her marriage,” Lucius hissed, “Normal people don’t go around stabbing people.”
On her voyage from England to the colonies, Lorelei had brought the Windsor family’s legendary sapphires. The fortune was carefully set in a jewelry collection and locked away in a prison-grade titanium safe. Stede had heard of the sapphires earlier that year after intercepting Admiral Tenement’s correspondence with the Windsor family.
“Rest easy,” a wax sealed letter read, “and know that I have secured the sapphires in a Lord Wellington 1504 security box-the kind used in banks-and taken out an insurance policy for-”
“That’s a whole lot of money,” Oluwande whistled. Stede hushed him,
“We need to keep a clear head-the Admiral and I have known each other since we were children, we mustn’t draw any unnecessary attention to our faces.” Lucius fidgeted with the collar of his suit, “If you’re putting us at risk by being here, why didn’t you just send..” Lucius trailed off, “Well I don’t know..literally anyone else” Stede jabbed Lucius sharply,
“Why don’t you go make yourself useful and…mingle.”
“Fine,” Lucius stalked off, muttering.
The plan was simple: Oluwande and Lucius would play look out at the party while Stede rooted around Admiral Tenement’s house for the safe. No one would bat an eye, with the help of his ingenious disguise as…
“Horatio Croft,” Stede said, offering his hand-these sort of things were much more fun now that he got to fuck with people.
“Croft, you say? Not the Edenton farms, Crofts?” Stede’s eyes twinkled, “One and the same-my father was terribly sorry that he couldn’t attend.” Horatio’s boat had capsized a little over a month ago and no one but the crew of the Revenge knew that poor little Horatio was somewhere at the bottom of the sea.
“Quite unfortunate for the poor chap,” Stede whispered to Lucius, “But a good stroke of luck for us.”
A year ago, Stede would have never imagined himself killing a stranger for their identity. And the plan had originally been to keep the poor chap hostage until the party had ended but Horatio had turned out to be a less than pleasant captive-
“Do you know who I am,” Horatio had demanded, tied to the ship’s mast. Black Pete slowly blinked,
“No.”
“O-oh,” Horatio looked down at his polished leather boots, “well…can’t you tell?” Wee John shook his head,
“We really can’t man, are you supposed to be important?”
“Am I supposed to be-am I supposed to be,” he looked up at Stede, “Explain to these savages who I am.” Stede, who hadn’t been paying attention, looked up,
“Sorry?” Horatio’s face was slowly turning red,
“Tell your crew who I am!” Stede nodded,
“Oh…” he laughed, “Oh, no-don’t worry guys, he won’t even be important in a few days.” After that, Horatio said a few choice words and Stede found himself with a knife in hand. The blade sticking out of Horatio’s gut.
“Oh dear,” Stede mumbled, he hadn’t remembered doing that.
“Wow,” Buttons mumbled, “Yah didnae hafta kill ‘em, Capt’n.” Stede pulled away trembling,
“It’s only a minor wound,” he tried to stop the bleeding but Horatio’s face was rapidly losing color.
“It’s not worth it, Capt’n,” Frenchie had mumbled. Stede shook his head and pressed the wound harder, “I-I-I didn’t mean to.”
“Well,” Lucius sighed, “There’s no use crying over spilled milk, we’ll just toss him overboard.”
And now Stede was bearing Horatio’s name, speaking to all these people like he hadn’t killed a man only a few days ago:
“Excuse me,” a small group of nobles looked up as Stede cleared his throat, “But could someone point me to the lavatory?”
“Oh,” A small german woman crooned, “Yes, yes, Mr. Tenement said there was a chamber pot in the west hall-third door on the left.”
“Ah,” Stede hummed, “Thank you-” he turned to leave and bumped into the slouching figure of Admiral Tenement.
“T-Tenement-” Stede squeaked.
“Yes,” the Admiral grunted, “Who is it?”
Stede trembled, waiting for the moment that Admiral Tenement would see through Stede’s disguise and piece together the puzzle. Instead,
“I’m sorry,” Tenement leaned in closer, his beard practically tickling Stede’s nose and said, “Do we know each other?” Relief crashed over Stede like a tidal wave. Until relief turned into indignation-
“Oh, no.” but Stede would make sure he remembered after this night. “My name is Horatio Edenton, a friend of your fiance’s family.” Tenement’s puffy red face pinched suspiciously,
“My wife has mentioned you-” a sharp jabbed alerted Stede that a small dinner knife had been worked into the curve of his hip bone, “I don’t want you getting any smart ideas while you’re here. My wife is a modest woman.” Stede held back a chuckle,
“My dear, man, I think you’ve misunderstood me.” The man’s eyes flicked up and down Stede’s body.
“Yes…I believe I have.” Tenement pulled back, smoothing down his uniform, “Forgive me…my wife did not say that you were…a committed bachelor.”
Stede frowned,
“N-no-I,”
“Don’t worry,” Tenement winked, “I understand.” He chortled and walked off to go terrorize the next group of people. And Stede was standing alone, stammering like an idiot.
“Oh dear…”
The west hall leads into a gallery filled with the washed out family portraits of Admiral Tenement’s family. One dreary little boy dressed in his Sunday clothes stared down from the picture frame holding a small wooden duck. The plaque under the painting said,
“Young Merry Tenement.” The boy’s spindly hands pointed to another door which in turn led Stede to a corridor he did not recognize. The wallpaper was peeling, depicting small cherubs who may have looked endearing in their early years but had been washed out with time and resembled something like a rat the longer you looked at it.
“Well fuck,” Stede whispered and began to follow the hall into it turned into a doorway-which turned into another hall-which turned into another door-which turned into another hall-which turned into another door-which turned into another hall-which turned into another-
“Oh,” someone was standing across the corridor.
“Who are you,” Stede demanded, appalled by the man’s unkempt appearance.
“Who are you,” the man teased, he looked bored but cheery. Long curly black hair curved his sinewy face.
“You there..Admiral Tenet-tenor-take me to the money.”
“Ah..” Stede’s eyes flickered around the room, “No..?” The man face quickly warped into a murderous sneer that but nothing intimidated Stede these days.
“Fuck it,” the man mumbled and pulled out his gun, a small click ringing through the empty room as the gun was cocked but nothing intimidated Stede these days.
“Who are you,” Stede repeated with the same grace and aplomb that had sent many pirates before fleeing in terror.
“T-take me to the money,” the man was clearly wasted and Stede did not have time for this. Has someone else heard of the Windsor sapphires? Maybe they were already gone and Stede had been duped out of his revenge.
“No.”
“...Huh.” The man lowered his gun and the glare was washed away by something that could almost be admiration. “The name’s Blackbeard and you’re going to take me to wherever posh people like you keep the money.” Blackbeard grinned lecherously, tucking his gun back into its holster. An awful idea came to Stede. A cruel, malicious, awful idea that a real gentleman would never consider. Luckily Stede was no longer the Gentleman Pirate.
“Well…if I take you…will you spare my life?” Stede leaned in, flashing a dazzling smile. Blackbeard shrugged,
“Maybe. First you have to take me to the money.”
“That would be my office,” Stede said, lying through his teeth, “Come with me.”
Stede had no idea where the Admiral’s office was, but Bleakbeard didn’t know that.
“It’s just over here, Sir,” he said and motioned to another winding hallway.
“Must be very confusing,” Blackbeard hummed. Stede laughed very gently, patting Blackbeard’s shoulder, “Not if you know your way around.” A shot echoed in the distance and party’s guest began to scream.
BANG
BANG
The shots did not stop.
Stede flinched, shock like a bucket of ice-water had been poured down his collar.
“What was that?”
“Mm,” Blackbeard looked up from Stede’s frilly coat, “Oh that would be my crew-say, this little shindig is to celebrate your wedding, right?” Stede swallowed the frustration mounting at his temples, “That’s right. Lorelei is just a saint-can’t-” Stede grimaced at the thought, “Can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with her.”
Blackbeard frowned,
“Right, well let’s hope you find your money in time, mate. Else Lorelei is going to be spending that dowry money on your coffin.” Stede could almost laugh, the threat of death was a refreshing change of pace. But he was far more concerned about how Oluwande and Lucius were fairing-left alone with a hardened crew like Blackbeard’s.
“Just this way, sir.” And as it turns out, it was, luck always had a funny way of working out for Stede. The sharp turn opened into an expansive office room filled with rococo furnitures and persian textiles.
“There should be a safe,” Stede mumbled.
“Well where is it?” The gun had returned to Blackbeard’s hand, his finger twitching on the trigger.
“Give me a second, man.” Stede probed through Admiral Tenement’s things tracing-grasping-pinching. Blackbeard watched the deft movement of Stede’s hands, his mouth gaping open. The search dragged on probably a bit longer than Blackbeard would have allowed for anyone else. But Stede was not like anyone else. He was a creature without fear and spoke to Blackbeard’s like an old friend.
“Did you lose your own safe,” Blackbeard asked, trodding over to rest his hand gently on Stede’s shoulder. Stede frowned, “Of course I didn’t. My safes got to be in the one place I’d always remember to look to-”
There is a painting of a young man hanging above the door. Stede hadn’t seen it before, but the dust that clung to Admiral Tenement’s office seemed to avoid the painting’s frame like a pristine halo.
“Help me up,” Stede ordered.
“Sorry?” Blackbeard set his gun down, “You want me to lift you-”
“Hurry up,” Stede hissed and began to climb up Blackbeard’s shoulders. Their hands scrambled to find purchase on each other and after a struggle, Stede had been lifted until he was staring the portrait’s subject in the eye. He leaned against the wall, the strain causing his legs to tremble.
“Just a moment,” Stede called as he tossed Admiral Tenement’s portrait to the floor.
“Whoa,” Blackbeard said, “You should be more careful with your things, mate!”
The Revenge had been expecting a military-grade safe, designed to withstand explosions and the elements. But Wee John had been optimistic that with the right kind of explosions, Admiral Tenement’s safe would crack in two. But as it turns out, the safe had not been military grade, or bank worthy even. The hinges were rusty and a crumbling layer of paint came away from where Stede pressed his fingers. Wee John explosives would blow the wall out and take Windsor’s jewels with it. But luck always had a funny way of working out for Stede.
The fair amount of gunpowder that Stede had remembered to pack-after Frenchie had pointed out that the last time Stede had left his boat without a gun had resulted in three deaths (no one of importance fortunately)-was just enough to blow the lock box’s hinges clean off. Stede filled a wad of torn fabric with the explosive, stuffing each bundle away into the box's hinges. A match was lit and a fire was made.
“Drop me,” Stede commanded. Blackbeard frowned,
“What?” Stede threw himself to the floor, tucking Blackbeard under his arm as they rolled across the room. An explosion rattled Tenement’s office, and the safe fell with a dizzying pop. Inside, exposed to the world-was a box of spanish dollars, two gold sabers and a small velvet box that Stede was sure contained the Windsor family sapphires.
“Why did you-” Blackbeard said but then he stopped, “You’re not really the Admiral Tenement are you?”
“No,” Stede said, “But I did have fun pretending to be, at least, with you.” Blackbeard dove for his gun but Stede was closer, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Stede aimed the gun at Blackbeard’s chest with a smile, “I’d hate to cause you any harm, but if I must…then I will.”
“Who,” Blackbeard shuttered, “Who are you really?”
“I captain a small crew on the good ship Revenge. My name is-”
“You’re that ghost pirate!” Blackbeard’s eyes began to shine, “I’ve heard so much about you-is it true that you took down a whole Spanish armada by yourself.”
“That story,” Stede sighed, “Is greatly exaggerated-and I’d be willing to tell you about it if you let me take my loot and depart from this wretched place.” A man cried out and another gun shot made the house tremble on its foundation, Stede hoped to god that Lucius and Oluwande were still alright.
“Sorry,” and Blackbeard pulled out a knife, “But if you’re willing to sneak in here, lie to my face and blow up a building just to get whatever is inside that-that box, then I want whatever it is” Stede shook his head,
“Oh come on, don’t be a bore. You’re Blackbeard, the entire world is your oyster. You don’t need this.” Blackbeard lunged forward, he must have seen the odd angle that Stede held his gun. The bullet missed by miles, piercing the solid wood of Admiral Tenement’s desk instead.
“You almost shot me,” Blackbeard was thrilled. He shouldn’t be so happy, Stede cursed. No sane person would be this happy.
“I-uh,” Stede laughed, “You’re going to think me foolish, but I…I don’t know how to reload a gun.” He tossed the gun aside and unsheathed a pointed knife,
“Then I guess we’re on equal footing now,” Blackbeard purred, “You said something about telling me a story?”
“Right.” Stede tripped backward, holding the knife at a distance from his body, “Well, I’m not sure where to start”
“Just say, once upon a time,” Blackbeard told Stede, he stepped forward with his arms spread, “That’s how all the best stories begin.”
“Well,” Stede felt a twinge of anger-uncharacteristic and tender with its novelty. Stede was never angry, there were snatchs of irritation but his anger was so much more bloody. A dark wrath that Stede only knew of from the consequences of his mindless instinct. Stede began to tell a story, a story of blood and fear.
“Once upon a time there was an incredibly desperate man, who had just come to realization that he was a great failure-”
“Are we talking about you,” Blackbeard whispered.
“And so” Stede enunciated, “the man lashed out, hurt and terrified that his loved ones had suffered and would continue to suffer no matter what course of action the man followed. Death seemed like a mercy, so he resolved to live with what he had done. And since that day, Death has never bothered the man again. Many of the greatest fighters in the land tried to take down the immortal man, but all of them failed. Because the man’s years and years of life with wounds but not death, of weariness without end, had turned the man into a monster.”
“How sad,” Blackbeard sniffed, “But that wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I know that you’re not capable of dying.”
“I know,” Stede hummed, “I just want you to know, that if you take whatever is in the box, for the first time in your life, you won’t be going up against a man. You’ll be hunted by a monster.”
“Really? Well I’ve never fought a monster before. Sounds like fun,” Blackbeard replied, “If we’re going to be battling to the end, you should call me Ed.” Silence filled the room, it dragged on until Stede burst into laughter, doubling over.
“Oh, Ed,” Stede said, feeling the name on his tongue, “Ed, Ed, Ed, Ed.”
“Yes,” Blackbeard whispered.
“You should look where you’re standing.”
With a single fluid motion, Stede shoved Blackbeard. Glass shattered under him, and Ed was falling back into the sky. There was a moment, stuck in the sky without anything to anchor him that Ed worried he might just stay there-floating in the sky forever. But gravity was reliable enough this time around and it hit Ed like a train. Or like the solid ground below a window on the second floor.
“Oh fuck,” Ed groaned. He scrambled in the dirt, trying to pull himself up from the ground.
“Hello down there,” Stede stuck his head out the window, “Are you still alive.”
Ed wheezed.
“Hmm,” there was a pause, “Well that’s terribly disappointing-I suppose this means I’ll be seeing you around.” Ed watched the way Stede’s hair fell over his face, glowing in the sunlight, “And I know I promised you a good fight but I’ve got to go and make sure your crew doesn’t blow up my friend.” A gold bracelet fell to earth and landed near Ed’s head-the cheapest artifact in the Tenement’s safe. “Here. Something to remember me by.”
Ed’s hand grasped at the chain, his hands sweating and slipping around the cool metal.
“What’s this,” he croaked but Stede was already gone. The bracelet’s design was simple, and it couldn’t be worth much on the black market-but Ed didn’t care about that. In the center of the chain, stamped into a silver charm, was the stylized image of a lighthouse on the shore line.
Stede peeled dressy laces from his frame, tucking Blackbeard’s pistol in the band of his pant’s as he stalked the empty halls. The shrill cries of the rich guided Stede back to the parlor, where a small coup had taken place. A man-that Stede recognized as Izzy Hands-stood over trembling nobles, surrounded by Blackbeard’s motley crew of fearsome pirates. In one hand Izzy held a curved sword, in the other he clutched a woman’s necklace.
“I am so sorry to disappoint,” Stede announced. Blackbeard’s crew whirled around, taking aim at Stede’s head, “but the party has unfortunately come to its end.”
Izzy tilted his head,
“Do I know you?” That was the second time in a night someone had forgotten Stede,
“It doesn’t matter.”
“What,” Izzy asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Stede pulled the knife from sheath, “some of you wouldn’t live to curse it.” The pirates began to fire their bulky guns, the recoil sending many back a step-but Stede was fast. He had to be. Ducking behind the door frame, Stede waited for the men to exhaust their artillery.
“Too slow,” he called and lept out-stabbing the closest man in the neck.
Stede stood up, dropping the body, “It seems that a rather scraggly looking man with a black-beard has fallen out the window in Admiral Tenement’s office.” Izzy paled,
“Blackbeard?”
“Oh, is that who it was,” Stede wiped the blood onto a lace covered hostage-who flinched back with a squeal, “He looked in pretty bad shape, man. Best go check on him.” Izzy dropped his sword and ran down the hall.
“Now,” Stede hummed, turning his gun at the biggest man in Blackbeard’s crew, “if you would be so kind, please, untie my crew.”
Later that night-after the Revenge had fled Ortolan’s port and hidden themselves away in the currents of the pacific-Lucius asked,
“You didn’t actually push him did you?”
“Push who,” Black Pete sat up from his hammock.
“Captain pushed Blackbeard out a window,” Oluwande whispered. The crew gasped, sitting upright and jumping to their feet.
“You didn’t,” Roach hissed. The crew looked ill-there’s a difference between screwing with the British navy and screwing with the most dangerous man on this side of the continent.
“It was nothing,” Stede said, counting the Spanish dollars recovered from Admiral Tenement’s safe, “if he was so smart then why was he standing in front of a window.” There was an awed silence that dragged on longer than Stede was used to. Finally, Frenchie asked,
“Is he dead?”
“Well he wasn’t when I left,” Stede chirped and that was that. Night was approaching and it was story time. The crew grew silent, listening to the sound of Stede’s voice as he read from an old children’s book. A dull calm hung in the air, heavy with the tropic heat.
“Once upon a time,” Stede said, because that's how all the best stories began, “there was a young man walking through the wild forest of germany late at night-”
Ed was carried back to his boat in a makeshift sling. Fang held one end and Ivan carried the other. It was a solemn procession, the crew was muted into a dead silence for fear of their lives and well being.
“Uh..Captain,” Izzy asked, trailing behind Blackbeard like a sick dog, “Is everything alright?” Ed grit his teeth,
“You fucking idiot.” Stede was about to tell Ed about the Spanish boat-they were having a lovely conversation and it had to be cut short-
“Because of you,” Ed hissed, “He left me because you were threatening his friends.” Izzy snorted,
“What kind of pirate has friends, Edward.” Blackbeard hissed,
“I don’t want to see your face until I’m fully recovered and when that happens, you better keep both of your eyes open when you sleep because I will find you-when you least expect it-and cut your ears off.” Izzy nodded, “I-yes.”
“Good,” Edward looked away.
And later that night-when Ed wondered if someone like Stede was sleeping-or staying up to oversee his ship-Ed clipped the bracelet onto his wrist. The sleeve of his jacket would cover it, but Ed didn’t want anyone to see the charm anyway. The lighthouse was just for him.