Work Text:
A Daily Routine of Blackbeard’s Right Hand
Izzy Hands gets up early.
He wakes up when the rest of crews are still asleep and washes his face. Then he goes out on the deck, he brushes his teeth while watching the sun rise over the ocean.
…Brushing your teeth is usually after eating breakfast, isn’t it? Isn’t that the wrong order?
“Hey, do not write something unnecessary, Lucius.”
He suddenly turned around, so I stopped moving my quill pen immediately.
“No way! I’m recording things just the way you are.”
I smiled back at him, and Izzy started brushing teeth again silently.
Last night, he abruptly requested me to record his day in writing. But he has a very bossy attitude to me as usual.
Huh, “his angry face looks like an oyster”…
After tooth cleaning, he blows out all candles in the ship, and the next is bomb maintenance. It was a duty task for all crews to take turn at first, but soon everyone forgot their turn, so now Izzy had to do it all by himself.
“Fuck, the gunpowder’s getting damp! This one, and this one….”
He picks up the bombs one by one and scrubs them carefully with a cloth. By removing dirt from the surface of the bombs with a fine-grained cloth, it is said that the bombs can be shot out of the cannon vigorously.
“Wow, this is how bombs are maintained.”
“That’s what you’re supposed to do, too.”
I had been looking as this as someone else’s problem, so I felt my back straightened up. I pretended not to hear him and continued writing in my notebook.
After a while, the other crews get up. It is finally time for breakfast. Though it is a common ingredients, Roach’s cooking is always excellent. Everyone concentrates on the food, so the table is very quiet except for the clatter of dishes.
“Lucius, put down your pen while you eat.”
As I was taking notes on the dishes on the table, Stede scolded me like a mother. He is elegantly using a knife and fork to cut up the dried meat, and Edward, sitting beside him, is trying to imitate him.
“Um, I have to write what I ate today.”
I’ve already made a “Izzy’s breakfast of the day” column in this notebook. If this section is blank, the whole balance looks worse. “Salted herring, dry bread with marmalade”…
“Why? You don’t usually do such a thing.”
Pete, next to me, peeked at my notes while biting off a piece of dry bread with his molars. He looked at the illustration in the corner and admired them.
“Izzy asked me to….”
“Ahhhh, yeah, it’s good maybe, right?”
As I was about to speak, Izzy suddenly interrupted me with a loud voice. He is waving a piece of cutlery. What is that, look like a fork with two tips, to pierce steak… This would be easier to draw in pictures.
“What Izzy, Any reason for that?”
“Well, if you write what you eat, you can check the food inventory. And it’s good for your health too.”
Edward looked up from the knife and fork struggle at hand and asked him. He immediately told plausible lies.
“Oh Ed, that knife is tricky to hold. You put your right index finger on the base….”
“Oh I see! Stede, you genius!”
Co-captains were soon in their own world again. Um, does this mean I’m not to blame?
I tried to make eye contact with Izzy, who has sitting across from me on the far right. But he was leaning his large bowl and wouldn’t even look at me. Having no choice, I started to write down my impression of the foods.
After breakfast, he inspects the mast, and in the afternoon, he’s most important task of the day awaits. Namely, deciding on tomorrow’s route.
He makes a multifaceted decision on where to go based on various factors such as the tide, the sky, the ship’s inventory, and future plans. This is the most important role for a Blackbeard’s right hand man.
At 3 pm. He enters the captain’s office ahead of the others, spreads out the nautical charts and compasses on the desk to prepare for the meeting. Normally, Edward, Stede, and Izzy gather this meeting, but Stede is busy with afternoon tea at this time. Therefore he does not take part in the meeting very often. I remember he told me yesterday that he had got some great tea leaves from Sri Lanka.
Then, the sound of heavy boots was approaching from behind the door. It was a sign that Edward had arrived. I’ll have to record it…
“Thanks for coming.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“So, what’s your route tomorrow?”
“Go straight.”
That’s all.
Edward pulled out his chair and quickly walked out of the room. I had just started a new page, but it was only four lines long. Izzy and I looked at each other.
“Is this your most important job?”
“…You should think carefully when you choose your boss.”
He sighs heavily and folds up the map spread out on the desk. His back looked a little melancholy.
Pirates go to bed early.
We live according to the sun, so after the sun goes down and we eat dinner, we are nothing else to do but sleep.
So before bedtime, I went to his bedroom to report.
“Here you are at last. Let me see.”
Izzy had changed from his usual full-body leather to a rough nightgown. Fang had once said, “That’s what he’s been wearing since he started working under Blackbeard. He tried to be as close to his captain as possible.” I wonder if that was true?
I handed him today’s notebook as he told me. He flipped open the pages and stared in wonder.
“What the fuck is this really my record?!”
The pages are mainly written about Izzy, but in the corner are my original cute funny illustrations and decoration. I think I did a pretty good job.
“You think it is a masterpiece, right?”
He frowned and groaned, as if he couldn’t come up with a nice counter-argument. Maybe it’s a little bit out of his wheelhouse, but the quality is unquestionable.
“By the way, why did you ask me to record your day?”
I finally asked him the question I had been thinking all day. He had been reading the notebook earnestly but he looked up and smiled to me cynically.
“I show this notebook to Blackbeard and tell him how unfortunate I am on this ship. The captain can’t read so you’ll be my witness and read it out with me. I’m sure he’ll be convinced my complaint.”
Wait, when did I get to read aloud my own composition in front of the captain? I can’t hide my bewilderment at this sudden declaration. On rather than that…
“Unfortunate? You?”
I snatched the notebook from him and read the day’s record again.
“Roach took the pickles which you hate out of your breakfast. Frenchmen helped you clean the mast, and Jim practiced sword fighting with you this evening.”
“So what.”
he is blatantly disgruntled because he had been deprived of the book he was reading without permission.
“Blackbeard said to you ‘Well done’ when you went to report the bullet count.”
“…”
“He was watching anxiously you when you worked on the high mast.”
“…So?”
“He said, ‘He does a good job’ when you weren’t around.”
Izzy‘s eyes, which had been like a sleepless Bulldog, changed like a Yorkshire terrier that got fed. (Actually, he said after the last one “Well, his too-seriousness is going a bad point sometimes.”)
“…I’ll complain to Blackbeard some other time.”
“Yeah, it sounds good.”
His expression seems to be unable to hide his joy on his face.
Anyway, this is the end of this strange job. I was about to open the door to go to bed, but he said “Hey” and stoped me.
“I’ll take the notes.”
He took the notebook from me and tore off the today’s notes.
“Oh my God! That’s precious paper!”
“Shut up. Get the hell out of here.”
He pushed he notebook back but it is partially torn. Even though this was a new one that Stede had just bought for me. He’ll be grinning all tonight as he looks at that notes.
…That’s funny too.
“Yeah, good night.”
I secretly chuckled as I imagined the sight scene, left his bedroom.