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They’re taken aboard the English ship without much fanfare. The crew of The Revenge watch them being led from the captain’s quarters to an awaiting jolly boat with an air of defeat and lingering disbelief. Ed doesn’t meet their eyes. He has made his choice, and he doesn’t want to be confronted with the disappointment he’s expecting to see written across their faces. The great Blackbeard licking the King’s boot, as Izzy had said. It is what it is. He’s alive and, more importantly, so is Stede.
Stede tries to say goodbye to the crew, but the English soldiers aren’t having it, so they quickly shove him onward when he tries to address them. In the end, Lucius manages to reach for Stede’s hand and gives it a squeeze. Ed doesn’t like the genuine sadness and sympathy on Lucius’ face, nor does he like seeing tears well up in Stede’s eyes that he tries to hide behind a resigned smile.
The jolly boat isn’t really big enough for prisoners, guards and privates to row, so they’re forced to row themselves over to the English ship while the soldiers spend the entire time mocking them, talking as if they’d personally captured and subdued Blackbeard, scourge of the Caribbean. Ed tries his best to ignore them, instead staring intensely at Stede’s back where he’s rowing in front of him. He wishes he could see his face. Or ask that they switch places so he can put himself between Stede and the two smug guards in front of him.
At one point he can’t help but look at their muskets, held so loosely in their hands, the cocky bastards, and he can feel the old Blackbeard stirring up inside him, screaming to be let out. He could jump up, get his hands on just one musket, throw the soldier overboard and crack the skull of the other one with the butt of the gun before he even knows what hit him. He could teach these boys exactly who they’re dealing with.
But then he glances to the side at the multiple jolly boats all around him, each carrying more soldiers. And though he can’t see the ship he’s rowing towards, he knows it’s not far off. They might just fire a cannon at them and end it all there. He can’t risk it. Not when Stede is sitting right there in front of him in his lovely blue silk suit. He remembers Stede telling him about the colour one day, which had led to him going off on a tangent about different birds that lay blue eggs. Ed had just listened patiently while Stede told him about dunnocks and starlings and blue finches, all the while feeling a growing fondness blooming in his chest. The last thing he wants to do is let Blackbeard’s rage put Stede in harm’s way, so he channels his anger into rowing instead.
****
The English ship has a proper brig with separate walled cells, and the thick oak doors only have small, barred windows to let a bit of light into the cells. Everything inside Ed screams at the idea of spending more than a minute inside that dark and dank room, but he refuses to show these English bastards that he’s bothered, so he steels himself and walks into the cell voluntarily.
To his left, he can hear Stede’s nervous prattle as he talks to the soldiers about the frightful condition of the cell, considering that this seems to be a perfectly lovely ship, and honestly, is this how the Crown treats its subjects, especially those who have just pledged ten years of service to the King? Even though Ed thinks that’s actually a pretty good argument, it’s apparently no use, and soon enough the doors are locked tight, leaving them in the dark and the silence.
During that first day, Ed paces, which is honestly difficult in a cell that isn’t even ten feet long. By the second day, he has somewhat quieted the voice screaming inside him – Blackbeard’s voice – that is desperate for escape and revenge and carnage. This trip, which he knows will be over in just a matter of days, is terrible, but it’s something he’ll have to get through. It’s part of the price he’s had to pay to stay alive and keep Stede alive.
They don’t talk much. Ed hates that he can’t see Stede, can’t read his facial expressions. Stede is so expressive, always showing his feelings openly, right there for the world to see. Ed knows this isn’t a good trait for a pirate, and he’s learned how to hide his emotions since he was a child. If people don’t know what you’re feeling, they can’t turn it against you. Stede clearly never learned that.
He’s becoming increasingly worried about what Stede is thinking and why he’s so quiet. Normally it’s impossible to shut him up, but since the key was turned in the cell door on the first day, getting a proper conversation out of Stede has been like pulling teeth. And in that silence, Ed’s mind can’t help but start filling in the gaps. Maybe Stede is regretting leaving his nice, cushy life to become a less-than-successful pirate. Maybe he’s regretting everything about the time they’ve known each other, including their friendship. Ed might have given up piracy now, for Stede, but he still doesn’t want Stede to think poorly of the life he’s led. Not when he used to look at Ed with such awe and admiration when he told him about the tricks of the trade or some of the more humorous (and less bloody) Blackbeard stories.
On the second night, Ed hears Stede crying. There’s no doubt about what the noise is or where it’s coming from. He wants nothing more than to comfort Stede, like he’d done for Ed weeks ago when he was blubbering in Stede’s bathtub, spilling his guts about his father and the Kraken. But he feels paralysed, sitting there in the pitch black cell, not even able to put a reassuring hand on Stede’s shoulder. So he does nothing and instead sits with the shame of that passiveness gnawing at his stomach.
The next day, once a bit of light has reached into their cells, he casually tries to bring it up in the most round-about way.
“I think there might be an owl or something on this ship. I heard some strange noises last night.” He just wants to give Stede a chance to open up, if that’s something he wants to do. Stede had been such a comfort to him that dreadful night, knowing just what to say and offering the precious gift of friendship when Ed needed it most. He knows he’ll never be as good at it as Stede, but Ed desperately wants to try.
Unfortunately, Stede doesn’t take the bait.
“Oh yeah? Strange. I personally didn’t hear anything. I was out like a light. Slept like a baby, actually.” Even without being able to see him, Ed knows Stede well enough by now to recognise the forced cheer in his voice. It gives him an uneasy feeling in his chest – that heavy, pressing sadness.
After that, Ed decides he’s going to do anything he can to cheer Stede up. At first he tries with random chitchat, but that still doesn’t get much of a response out of Stede. So he goes back to what he knows works: Blackbeard stories.
Rummaging through his memories for a minute to find something amusing but not too violent, he eventually settles on a near-death experience involving a Spanish treasure ship and a daring escape.
“Did I ever tell you about the time I got captured by some Spanish bastards?” Stede is quiet for a second, but then Ed hears a soft sigh.
“No, I don’t believe you did.”
Ed can’t help but smile to himself. This is going to work, he is going to make Stede forget all about their shitty situation and the ten long years of service looming in the horizon. So he puts on his most cheerful yet casual tone and sets out to entertain the shit out of Stede.
“Oh, well, it’s a doozy! It must’ve been around 1710 – it was a while since I’d left Hornigold, and I was sailing with a couple of ships. Our flag ship and a little sloop that Izzy,” he stops to spit briefly at even mentioning the traitor’s name, “was in charge of. Anyway, we’re just cruising around, looking for an opportunity. And would you believe it, we come across a Spanish galleon.” He stops for a bit, letting the weight of that hang in the room. At least he hopes Stede understands the daring nature required to take on a Spanish galleon.
“Uhuh,” is all he gets though. Clearly Stede doesn’t quite get it.
“Yeah. So it had been part of a treasure fleet, but a storm had probably blown it off course, and now it was all alone, begging for a boarding.” Thinking back on it now, he can’t believe they actually tried to take on a damn galleon with just a barque and a sloop. He got too cocky. He was Blackbeard, his reputation growing every day. He thought they would put up a fight, sure – he wanted them to. But he also thought they would surrender eventually when they realised just who it was they were up against. He’d lost good men that day. But Stede doesn’t need to know all that.
“I had to go for it, you know. Too good to pass up. Iz-” he stops himself from even saying the name this time, “the sloop was some ways out, but I didn’t want to wait, so we hoisted the white flag to get close. Not my proudest moment, but you know, needs must. A couple of us made it over, but things went south quickly. Lost a couple of men, and soon enough I was in irons being led down to the brig.”
He can feel the tension now. He knows Stede is hanging on his every word. Ed closes his eyes and imagines the face Stede makes when he’s normally telling these stories in front of the fireplace on The Revenge, brandy in their glasses and the rosy blush of delight and drink on Stede’s cheeks.
“What then?” Ed smiles softly in the dark. Stede sounds like himself for the first time in days. There’s excitement in his voice.
“Well, my ships got away, luckily – those galleons aren’t fast, and they weren’t interested in pursuing some random pirates and getting even more off course. They knew who I was, and I was enough of a catch.” He wishes he could wink at Stede now. Stede clearly loves it when Ed winks at him. He gets all flustered and giggly.
“So they take me down to the brig, which was just an open cage, not like these crappy little cells.” He kicks the wall between his and Stede’s cells for emphasis. “But they only leave one guard, ‘cause like I said, they’re not really interested in me or my crew, they need to get back to the fleet to avoid other attacks.”
He takes a moment again, picturing that guard. He still remembers him like it was yesterday. Young, couldn’t have been more than 20, looking self-important in his fancy blue uniform. He had big brown eyes and dark brown hair, and his face was smooth and rosy with youth. And he had looked at Ed with an interest Ed wasn’t unfamiliar with.
A plan had formed quickly after that. All he had to do was turn on the old Blackbeard charm, and within an hour his hands were free, and an hour after that he was on his knees giving the most important blowjob of his life. Adrenaline had been coursing through Ed’s body, and he’d actually almost enjoyed himself. Even if the purpose was to escape the noose once again. But he can’t tell Stede any of this – he’s a gentleman! He can’t just describe how he blew the guy so well he was completely caught off guard when Ed grabbed his pistol and conked him on the head. He clears his throat and tries to find a more delicate phrasing.
“So anyway. The guard and me, all alone down there. I put on the charm, and soon enough things got a bit Italian, you know.” Nothing, just silence from Stede and the distant cry of a seagull.
“Italian? I thought you said they were Spanish?” The slightly squeaky nature of Stede’s voice when he’s confused always brings a smile to Ed’s face.
“We did a bit of larking,” he tries.
“You were larking about with the Spanish-Italian man? I don’t understand…” Ed feels an annoying warmth crawl up his neck into his cheeks. Is Stede being purposely obtuse? Does he actually want Ed to spell it out?
“Look, I’ve taken some French language lessons in my day, is what I’m saying.” He’s getting flustered – why is he getting flustered? This is his own story, his own life! He’s not ashamed of what he did. He’s a pirate, a rapscallion, a survivor.
“I’m sorry, Ed, but I simply have no idea what you mean.” Ed can’t help but groan in frustration, but he hopes it’s quiet enough that Stede doesn’t hear. Part of him just wants to be blunt, but he doesn’t actually know how Stede would react to such a thing. Does he even know this is something men do – and to each other, none the less?
“Look, I distracted him, okay?” Ed suddenly feels like a coward again. He really doesn’t enjoy that feeling, and it seems to come up more now that Stede is in his life. “Anyway, I got hold of his gun, knocked him out and tied him up in the brig. I waited until the middle of the night and then snuck onto the deck and signalled to Izzy with a candle and a mirror.” The name comes out without a thought this time, but afterwards it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.
“Luckily enough, that no good dog was too much a coward to go off on his own, so the sloop had been stalking the galleon from a distance. By now there was a heavy fog, but I saw a single gleam signalling back to me through the fog, so I knew where they were.” He’s trying to be very casual about this now. In reality, his heart had been pounding in his chest and his hands had been shaking so badly when he briefly managed to light the stolen candle stub. He’d even thanked God silently in his head when neither his nor Izzy’s signals seemed to alert the drowsy lookout up in the crow’s nest.
“After that, it was just a matter of waiting for a bit before jumping in the water and swimming towards the sloop.” Ed had waited for ten minutes, crouched behind some crates on deck, his pulse roaring in his ears and his heart in his throat. Then he’d quietly slipped over the railing and crawled down the ladder. The water had been so cold – colder than he’d expected. But he’s a good swimmer and he’s fucking Blackbeard! It was no issue. Izzy had met him in a dinghy halfway between the sloop and the galleon, and they’d simply greeted each other with a curt nod, but he’d seen the way Izzy’s eyes gleamed at him in the dark, that religious devotion to Blackbeard already well-cemented back then.
“Wow, Ed! What an impressive tale!” Stede does indeed sound impressed. Mission accomplished then. Ed unfortunately feels pretty rotten now. He wonders what happened to that soldier afterwards. He shouldn’t give a damn, they were going to hang him, but he was barely more than a kid. And now here Ed is again, locked in a brig. But at least he has avoided the gallows once more, even if it won’t make for a riveting tale later on.
“I can’t believe those Spaniards underestimated you like that.” Stede has that almost dreamy sound to his voice now, and Ed can imagine him staring off into the distance, probably imagining himself in a similar situation that he would also magically escape from.
“Well, you know, all in a day for Blackbeard.” Ed lets those be the final words of this tale of cunning and daring, which was actually more a tale of cocksurety and pure luck. But Stede doesn’t know that.
He certainly seems to have lit a fire in Stede though, ‘cause he spends the rest of the journey prattling on with a level of energy Ed is actually a bit jealous of. It’s mostly pointless small talk or complaining about the cells or the meals, but Ed is just happy to have his friend talking again.
****
They arrive at the academy on the fourth day. The English soldiers send them off with a couple of final jeers, but once they’re in line to register, they’re very much left to their own devices.
“So what’s the plan for escape?” Stede’s voice is suddenly in his ear in a surprisingly loud whisper. He doesn’t know what to say. This was his plan – do whatever it takes to save Stede’s life.
“Uh, the plan – the plan’s just to go with the flow, see what happens.” Stede luckily seems to be satisfied with that answer, and Ed doesn’t have time to think about it anymore as he’s being handed a thin blanket and some less than flattering clothes before being ushered into a dormitory.
He doesn’t even have time to set his kit down on a bunk before a marine approaches, pointing at his beard.
“You’re going to have to shave that, it’s not regulation.” A little voice inside him calmly tells him to head-butt this absolute arsehole, but then he’s being less than kindly shoved towards another room that turns out to be populated with bearded men in similar situations.
“You can do it yourself or we’ll do it for you,” the soldier warns, nodding towards a small mirror on the wall. So Ed shaves. He sees no reason to make a big kerfuffle about this and risk some idiotic, incompetent kid nicking the shit out of his face and neck. It hurts more to see them scooping up his leather outfit and carrying it off to God knows where once he’s been forced to change into his issued clothes.
Calmly, Ed shaves. First he trims the beard until it’s short enough for the straight razor. He watches as his face reappears from under the mask of Blackbeard, his skin surprisingly smooth even now. He feels younger, lighter. The men around him all look sullen, grumbling about tyrannical English bastards or, in some cases, struggling while soldiers hold them down and forcibly shave them. Part of him gets it. Ten years ago, he could’ve torn anyone apart with his teeth before letting them near his beard, but he’s not that person anymore. He doesn’t want to be that person.
He looks in the mirror one last time, taking in his new visage. Just Ed. He smiles briefly at his reflecting, and then a soldier is ushering him on.
He finds Stede looking very sulky in a top bunk, already in his drab new outfit as well.
“Alright, mate,” Ed greets him before sitting on the bottom bunk with the rest of his things. Stede doesn’t look at him, simply hums quietly in acknowledgement.
“Do they really think I’m dead? Or did Mary report me dead out of spite?” Ed isn’t actually sure what Stede is talking about, but he imagines if he lets his friend go on for long enough, he’ll be able to piece it all together. He’s done it several times before when Stede is going off on some rant.
“I wonder if they had a funeral. I mean, what would they bury? Would it be an empty…” The sentence is cut off by a loud yell from Stede. When Ed looks up, Stede is staring down at him with shock, his face looking almost distorted from this angle.
“What have they done with your face?!” It comes out somewhat squeaky.
“Oh yeah! Yeah, the beard wasn’t regulation, so it had to go. Feels weird. From here to here is freezing.” Stede at first keeps staring at him like he’s grown a second head, but by the time he joins Ed on the bottom bunk, he seems a bit calmer.
“But you’re Blackbeard. You can’t be Blackbeard without your black beard.” Ed doesn’t like the direction this conversation is going. He honestly doesn’t even like it when Stede calls him Blackbeard nowadays.
“Come on, mate. That’s all over. It was over years ago. My beard hasn’t been black since I was young.” Stede’s face kind of sinks into resignation then. “I was Greybeard if anything. Salt-and-pepperbeard. Now, I’m just Nobeard.” But then something is lighting up in Stede’s eyes and he’s leaning in conspiratorially, lowering his voice.
“Oh, I get it. You’ve got a plan, I know it.” Ed only dares to glance up for a split second, all while folding his little pile of identical grey socks. But Stede just goes on. “You’ve kept the clippings, haven’t you? So we can make fake heads and escape.” It’s a ridiculous notion, and now Ed really doesn’t like where this is going, doesn’t like the excited look on Stede’s face. Wasn’t it enough that he saved them? Does there have to be yet another plan?
“Stede, get it straight, mate. We got caught, alright? There is no escape. Now it’s time to accept our fate.” He doesn’t look up, just keeps his hands busy. “Besides, kind of comforting, really, once you get your mind around it. I mean, look at this. I’m folding stuff, and that’s okay.” He tries to give Stede a reassuring smile, because really, it is okay. Ed is a man who enjoys a repetitive task once in a while. He can appreciate the comfort of a routine like this. But Stede just looks a bit crestfallen before getting up and practically running out of the room.
Ed watches him go, worry settling in his stomach like a stone. He doesn’t want Stede to be disappointed in him – or in the lack of Blackbeard. He just wants Stede to see that the pardon was their only choice, the only way to escape certain death. But also, giving up Blackbeard is a decision Ed has been making gradually since the second he met Stede and introduced himself by his real name. Stede has helped him see that he doesn’t have to be the violent, dreadful pirate Blackbeard. It’s okay to just be Ed.
He can’t help but feel the string of rejection though. Stede has never looked at him like that before, with shock and a certain degree of horror. He almost looked angry. All because of a damn beard. He wonders if being just Ed isn’t actually enough for Stede. On the one hand, Stede has spent their time together showing Ed that he is more than a rough pirate, that he can be sophisticated and polished. But on the other hand, Ed regularly has Stede hanging on his every word when he talks about being a proper pirate. So much of their friendship, at least at first, has been based on Stede’s obsession with Blackbeard and piracy in general.
But pirates don’t get to retire, and this is as close as they’ll get. This is Ed’s best case scenario. Stede is alive. They’re still together. If they’re really lucky, they’ll manage to do service together too. Even if Stede will never love Ed the way Ed loves Stede, this is okay. Ed can be content in this life.
Ed doesn’t really know how long he spends staring at his folded socks, trying to figure out just what it is he’s feeling. But eventually he figures he should probably go find Stede, considering he hasn’t returned on his own yet. So he sets off, looking for anywhere you might be able to sulk in private.
He finds Stede down on the beach, staring out onto the water, looking absolutely forlorn.
“There you are.” He sits down next to Stede, as close to him as he can get without actually touching him.
“The fake heads idea wasn’t bad,” he says, keeping his voice gentle. He hates that he has somehow disappointed Stede, and considering he’s the one who should’ve been teaching Stede about fuckeries and elaborate plans, shooting down Stede’s idea like that wasn’t a kind thing to do.
“Come on. Stupid idea. I’ve only got stupid ideas.” Ed can’t help it when he tells Stede to shut up. He’s just so tired of this utterly brilliant man always putting himself down. It’s like he refuses to see what Ed sees, and Ed wishes he had the words to tell Stede everything he thinks about him. Stede just changes the topic though.
“How are you handling this so well?” Ed glances over at him briefly before pondering his answer for a second.
“I don’t know.” He’s trying to gather his thoughts, find the best way to express them to Stede, a man who never seems to be missing the right words.
“It’s kinda nice just to take a load off. Just to be Edward.” He realises now that he wasn’t just bored with being Blackbeard – he was burdened by it. “I don’t know if I wanna go back to the old days. Just drinking all day and biting the heads off turtles, or making some poor bloke eat his own toes as a laugh.” He doesn’t even have to look over at Stede to know the expression on his face – he feels the disapproving frown on his own face too. These things might’ve seemed fun at the moment, but were they actually? After the whole thing with Jack, Ed can’t really see them in quite the same light.
“Suppose what I’m saying is that I… Right now, I just wanna do what makes Ed happy.” He doesn’t look at Stede. He can’t, not yet. He’s scared, feeling like he’s on the brink of confessing everything to Stede, just a short while after Stede expressed such distaste for the idea of Ed without Blackbeard.
“And what makes Ed happy?” Stede leans towards him, tilting his head almost like a puppy. It’s truly endearing.
“These past few weeks have been… the most fun I’ve had in ages, years. Maybe ever.” That actually comes as surprise to Ed. But yeah, when has he last felt as happy and carefree as he has with Stede? No matter what came their way, storms or betrayal or fucking English pricks, it has rolled off Ed like water off a duck. ‘Cause he’s been with Stede through it all. So he’s going to do it. He’s going to tell him. And either way, it’ll be alright.
“So… So I reckon what makes Ed happy… Is… You.” He wishes he were a braver man. That he could shout it from the rooftops. Instead, the last word comes out barely more than a whisper. But it’s out there. And when he looks at Stede, he is greeted with a smile from his friend. A smile that just gets bigger, and Stede seemingly basks in what Ed has told him, straightening his back and breathing deeply.
“Well that’s… that’s…” And Ed takes one final leap. He leans in, arm around Stede’s shoulders, and finally finally finally presses his lips against Stede’s. For a split second, Stede just seems surprised, but then he’s kissing back, a steady pressure against Ed’s mouth. Ed shifts, tries to get even closer, cups Stede’s jaw in his hand. His heart feels like it’s going to break free from his chest, and he can feel the rush of Stede’s pulse under his fingers, making him want more.
Instead, he paces himself, pulling away softly to watch as Stede’s eyes finally flutter open to meet his gaze. They’re so close their noses are still touching and everything is honestly kind of blurry for Ed, but he never wants to stop touching this man ever again.
“You make Stede happy.” It’s a whisper, so intimate it makes Ed’s teeth ache a bit. He wants to cry, but instead, all he can do is smile. Smile and look at this man, silly and ridiculous and utterly wonderful, the soft skin of his cheek still under Ed’s calloused thumb. And then something wakes up in Ed’s mind. Some part of him that isn’t quite Blackbeard but still very much a pirate. There are the very early beginnings of a plan.
“Maybe we can just get away? Start over. Reset.” He takes Stede hand somewhat absentmindedly, his thoughts already racing with possibilities.
“But you said there was no escape.” He looks at Stede, feeling increasingly sure of himself now.
“There’s always an escape. We could be gone tonight.” Stede looks somewhat apprehensive when he asks about the English pursuing them. But Ed is already three steps ahead. So he lets his plan unfold in hushed tones. A new boat, new identities. China. It’s perfect. They can leave behind these lives, he can escape any remnants of Blackbeard and be someone completely new – someone loved by Stede.
“Our old lives will be done, dead. Never were. What do you say?” Stede seems to hesitate for a minute, but Ed fills that moment by plotting more details. It’ll be alright, he knows Stede – sometimes he just needs a minute. They can adjust the plan if necessary.
“Yeah.” It’s spoken so quietly that Ed doesn’t quite believe what he’s heard.
“Yes?” And then Stede is nodding and Ed feels like he’s floating, excitement coursing through his body. He doesn’t even linger long enough to kiss Stede again, so wrapped up in the plan and the adventure they’re going to share.
He goes to work as soon as he’s back at the academy, scouting for just the right kind of guard. He finds him slacking off in a corner of the courtyard, scowling at his fellow soldiers as much as at the recruits. Ed knows a disillusioned man when he sees one. It doesn’t take the promise of much to get him to help them – a bit of gold and a chance to join the infamous Blackbeard’s crew. Ed smiles to himself after, knowing there will never be such a crew again.
Stede is back in his bunk, staring at the ceiling when Ed finds him. He quickly tells him the plan, making sure to let him know he’ll be down at the docks 30 minutes after Stede. As soon as he feels like Stede has understood everything, he’s off again to get their dinghy. He can feel that old excitement bubbling under his skin as he heads for one of the docks, hoping it’ll be occupied by at least one boat but deserted enough for him to get away unnoticed.
He does find a dinghy, and he doesn’t even have to mug anyone for it. The owner is absolutely blackout drunk on the beach near the dock, an almost empty bottle of rum still clutched in his hand. So Ed just takes the dinghy and rows along the coastline to their meeting spot. It’s an isolated area with thick forest growth coming right down to the edge of the beach, which should help conceal them from any wandering guards.
With the dinghy safely tied up, Ed goes back to the academy to pick up some provisions. By the time he returns, he is expecting to find Stede waiting at the dock. But he’s nowhere to be found, and he doesn’t respond when Ed calls for him as quietly as possible.
So he waits. And waits. There’s not much else to do. He can’t risk going back yet again – escaping with the provisions had been a close call as it was. But maybe the guard got confused about the time or they’ve run into a bit of trouble and had to delay the plan. Things like that happen sometimes, but it’ll be fine. Eventually he lies back on the uneven boards of the dock, taking a moment to look at the shifting clouds. The sky peeking through is changing from an inky black to an ever lighter blue. They still have time. Stede said he would be there, so he’ll be there.
But by the time the pinks and purples of the sunrise are spreading rapidly across the sky, Ed has to admit something he’s probably known for a while. Stede isn’t coming. He finally showed himself to be a proper pirate, and pirates lie. Maybe the safety of the pardon was too alluring in the end. Ed can’t really blame him for that – for choosing a different life; one without Ed in it.
When he can wait no longer, he sets off in the dinghy. He’ll go back to The Revenge, in case Stede just needs a bit more time. He’ll be easy to find that way. As he rows, he tries to remind himself that just this afternoon, he was content to spend the next decade under the Crown’s boot because that is the price he paid to keep Stede alive. It’s a price he would pay any day. He has no doubt Stede is okay – he just doesn’t want to be with Ed. That’s fine, he can live with that. It hurts, but he’ll live. Blackbeard has survived worse.