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The Revenge was sailing with his full crew once again on a sea far less tumultuous than the tension slowly settling among the soul walking his decks. There was regret and guilt. Anger and frustration. Fear and love. But day by day ease and comradeship appeased the minds.
Stede closed his book on another chapter as the night let its dark shiny coat take the sky and the cold winter wind forced everybody back on the decks below to find shelter and warmth. Only one soul stayed above, one of his favorite sailors, favorite because he could talk to the wind and the sea and the birds, because he heard the crack of his soul in the wood and soothed the trouble the best he could and because he prayed to the moon.
The Revenge loved the night, because that's when the man would talk to him the most and he felt safe in his hands knowing he wouldn’t crash him on rock or land. He kept watch and he kept everybody safe.
Would he be granted a tale tonight and if he was, what would it be ?
“Mister Buttons.”
Ah. Yes. There was him too, the soul that held the most sadness, the most anger and the most loneliness on board. Unkind but not uncaring, his touch was surprisingly thoughtful and this was the second and last pair of hands he fully felt safe under. He kept watch when the odd one didn’t. Nights were mostly shared between them at few exceptions and the Revenge wasn’t going to complain. But if he was here that meant the odd soul wouldn’t talk to him much.
“Ay take in the first watch ey ?”
“You do, just thought I could keep you company.” He holds a bottle in his hand that he waves and a wool blanket under his arm. When he receives no answer he adds. “Can’t sleep.”
Oh ! Here is that loneliness again, oh so subtle in the throat but making the heart bleed.
“Rhum ?”
“Tafia.”
“Good-ie.” He waves at him to come and the steps are quick.
There is a comfortable ease as they stand aside. It’s not the first night they share, at first it was pity, maybe the first couple of nights, where the odd one would agree to make an effort just because the moon told him to by shining its light on the wrecked man in a way that made his soul lay bare.
Then it wasn’t just an effort, because as weird he was looked at sometime, the man truly tried to understand him or at least didn’t really judge him. And if it was because he was too lost to care anymore it didn’t matter. Intend didn’t matter, reason didn’t matter, act did. So he grew warmer to the man and the moon was pleased.
“Nothing to report ?”
“Nah every’thang s’fine.”
He opens the bottle and takes a swig before handing it to Buttons who do the same. He walks around, checking the horizon more to appease his own buzzing anxiety than because he doesn’t trust the man judgment. It’s difficult to let go when letting go mean you get hurt. The odd one doesn’t carry such worries, even in troubled times he knows to trust the force above. Izzy don’t.
But once reassured he comes to sit by the mizzenmast, quickly joined by buttons who hand him back the bottle. Silence takes its reign beside the sea rocking the ship gently and the wood that crack here and there, the wind blow in the sails, keeping them moving. They share the bottle in that sweet silence and the lonely soul appease.
“Ze Revenge iz’ happy.”
“Hm ?”
“He’z happy. He’z told me’.”
He frowns, and, of course, he does, despite the numerous times he tried to teach him about the soul living in their boat. He stares back at him with huge, unblinking eyes until he takes a big breath.
“The Klabautermann ?”
“Ya’ learnin’.” He says proudly.
“And how did he tell you ? It’s not like I hear a voice.”
“It’s in ze cracks, ze snaps, ze sails. It’s in ze wood.” He pursues while caressing the decks with both palms like it’s the most delightful sensation to have. “Ya don’t listen.” And even if he does, he knows it’s because Izzy doesn’t believe.
Izzy stare at him and he tries to be patient but he doesn’t truly understand it. He searches, Buttons can see it, he searches a reason, a logic to this mysticism but it fails, like it always does leaving Buttons disappointed.
“Try to feel’ it when you touch.”
“Touch what ?”
“The ship. He likes your touch.” And Buttons think he might like his touch too if the man could keep his usual violence at bay. It makes Izzy laugh. A gentle puffing that sound just right and his unaware smile shine in the weak golden light of the lamp at their feet. He takes a swig of tafia and turn back to him.
“‘Fine. And what makes him happy ?” Buttons doesn’t miss the way he rubs his hands together, like he is trying to see what about his touch could be nice.
“Ze crew iz doing betterz.”
“Can’t deny that.”
“Our Klabautermann doezn’t like tormented mindz.”
“Hm.”
Silence takes a comfortable reign again until Buttons gets up to checks once again the horizon with the spyglass, see if there is any evolution that need immediate consideration or action. Then he takes the blanket and unfolds it on Izzy who stares at him in surprise.
“Ya’ shivering.”
“I’m not.”
“Ya will soon.”
Izzy accept the blanket easily enough and adjust under.
“What will it be tonight ? The moon is barely out so I suppose it’s not a basking day.”
“‘Am gonna sing.” He whispers in a smile as he grabs the bottles and takes a good swig.
The following minutes are spent preparing his breath and voice and it’s ultimately ridiculous but that man wear such oddness that ridicule doesn’t taint him. Can’t taint him.
Then, after a few seconds of silence, his voice peaks in a chant that is both painful to hear but also pleasurable to listen to.
It doesn’t take long for them to hear knocks coming from the quarters below and some scream, notably Jim being the loudest, asking to shut the fuck up. They know it’s a waste of time and they know Buttons won’t stop until he is finished. Instead, to drown out their scream, he sings louder.
Izzy know that chant by now, and it’s a long one, so he settles better against the mast and close his eyes. He’s not sure when he falls asleep, but he does.
He is awakened by a hand on his shoulder and quickly understand it’s his turn to take watch. So he gets up, not without difficulty with his cold muscles and stiff joints and wish the old sailor good night. To his surprise the man sits where he was, where he warmed the spot against the mizzenmast and wrap himself with the blanket.
“You can go sleep below decks, you will be warmer.”
“Keepin’ you company”
“You don’t have to.”
“Ay know.” Ignoring Izzy, he settles more comfortably and close his eyes, quickly falling asleep to the moon blessing.
He awakes a couple of hours after, the night is still deep in darkness and in his disappearing slumber he can hear Izzy slow pace on the deck as he moves from one side to the other. It’s a slow and heavy pace, unbalanced and as the wood crack gently under his weight Buttons realize something everybody misses. It’s subtle, but that crack carry pain, and they all know Izzy miss a toe, they all know his injury probably can’t be fully healed yet, but they forget because Izzy does everything to make them forget, controlling his limp at nearly every instant and never complaining. But the ship knows, the cracks know. It’s tired too, more than usual, more than it should. And it’s true the man carry a huge load of work day and night.
He gets up and walks to Izzy who turns and nearly dump into him stopping just in time.
“Go back to sleep.” As expected, he frown.
“My watch in not over.”
“You’re tired’.” Izzy hesitate.
“Doesn’t matter, you’re too, it’s your time to sleep.” He tries to walk past him but Buttons block him the way.
“Ze night’s calm, I can take the rest of your watch.”
“No ! It wouldn’t be fair.”
Oh moon, is that man stubborn.
He grabs him by the wrist and Izzy tense immediately, it’s a strong but not unkind grip that surprisingly could hurt if Buttons wished to.
He doesn’t say a word and Izzy find himself at loss for words but the intensity of the instant grow exponentially, the moonlight might be weak as it’s just a croissant, but there is something terrifying that shine in Buttons back. Like the argument is not to be discussed to avoid unfortunate consequence. Izzy can’t keep the pool of dread that form in his guts to creep him.
“Alright.” He agrees finally, his voice tense.
The atmosphere immediately settle down and Izzy takes the blanket he is handed to, sitting back in his place against the mizzenmast, the blanket to keep him warm.
“Thanks.” He mutters and Buttons isn’t sure if he ever heard the man says that. He nods and raises his arms to the moon just as Izzy close his eyes again.
The night is cold, and he shivers, often emerging from sleep, falling again. It continues until something warm appear at his side, warm and tender and he lean against it. He feels a hand bring him closer until he rests his head on a shoulder, he probably shouldn’t allow this, this is dangerous for so many reasons, but instead of moving he bites at the thought and forget, falling for a restful sleep against that warm body.