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"That one's shit. You don't want it; too flash. You should be checking out Turner's work. His master's a useless drunk, but the kid shows talent."
Ed put down the sword he was swinging, letting it fall back into the barrel with it's brethren. "Turner?" he asked, but the gravel-voiced stranger had disappeared into the throng of sailors on the dock.
It didn't take Ed long to find Turner's smithy, but his friend was nowhere to be found. His advice, though, was spot-on. The Turner-forged swords were far better made and more aesthetically pleasing, although Ed's exact thoughts were sharp and shiny! He bought a sturdy blade and a leather scabbard, then wandered around the port listening for a particular voice.
He already had a decent pistol, but stopped by the gunsmith for powder and shot. Once he was full-up, Ed checked his money pouch. He still had enough, since he hadn't had to replace his pistol, and the Turner blade had been reasonably priced.
At the busy tavern, Ed found a two-man table, ordered two pints and two plates, and sat across from an empty chair.
The chair didn't stay empty long; it got spun around and straddled by a man a few years older than Ed, but still fresh-faced and shaggy-haired. No beard yet, even though Ed was starting to show significant growth. "Saw you at Turner's. You picked a good one. Good price, too." He picked up the plate and dug into the turkey leg.
"Got some good advice about it," Ed agreed. "Thanks for that."
"What's your ship?" came around the mouthful.
"Jezebel," Ed answered. "Bought a berth for Nassau and the Ranger."
"Don't." The stranger drained his pint. "Jezebel's a shanghai ship; you'll end up right in the bloody Navy."
Ed lifted his tankard. "Thanks again, mate. I'll find another hitch."
"Got a dinghy, if you wait until tomorrow. I'll get you to the Ranger safe."
Ed waved the tavern girl over and paid for two refills. "Yeah, okay, thanks."
The stranger scoffed. "Just like that?"
"Sure, why not? Haven't led me wrong yet." He wiped the foam from his mustache. "Got a bunk for the night?"
"Got a room upstairs, bring your kit and you can stay there until we leave."
"Edward Teach." Ed stuck out his hand across the table.
"Izzy."
Ed clasped the offered hand tightly. "Pleasure to meet you, Izzy. Izzy. Iz?"
"S'fine," Izzy agreed. He ignored the rest of the food on the table, because his stomach had immediately flipped as soon as Ed's hand had clasped his own.
Upstairs, sharing the room meant Ed was swaying in a newly-purchased hammock while Izzy lay on the bed, facing him. He stared openly at the younger man, and he had to know. "How'd you get signed up on Hornigold's ship?"
"Found his first mate in a tavern on Hispaniola, putting together a crew. I signed up, sent half the bonus to my Ma and pocketed the rest. Vane said come to Port Royal, and find the Jezebel that'll take us to the Ranger."
Izzy laughed. "You're an idiot; Hornigold doesn't actively recruit. Vane's selling you all off to the Navy and pocketing a fee for every head he delivers. S'why he sent you all to the Jezebel." Kid was lucky he'd caught Izzy's eye, cause otherwise, he'd have never bothered.
"Seems like you know everything already," Ed answered after a moment. "Think you could teach me?"
"Yeah, why not?" Cause someone was going to have to help the kid stay alive, and having markers to call in was always a bonus; never knew when a man might need a favor. And he studiously ignored the creature in his belly that twisted every time the man talked to him.
"Thanks, Iz."
Ed's grateful smile sent an unexpected charge, like he'd just been shot in the belly. "Can you fight?"
"Pretty good with my fists," Ed admitted. "My sword needs work."
"Then we start that first thing in the morning. You've got to be able to protect yourself, cause ain't nobody else gonna do it," Izzy pointed out. Except he was having a particularly vivid gut feeling that he would spend the rest of his life protecting Edward Teach.
"Make you a promise, Iz. You show me the ropes, and I'll have your back. I'll protect you, and you help me become a great sailor."
Izzy humored him. "Course, yeah. And when you take your own ship, I'll be your First Mate. You'll need someone to watch your back, too."
Ed smiled, warming up to the idea. "Captain Teach! Bet I won't have to worry about a mutiny with you at my back."
First night on the Ranger, Izzy shared his hammock with Ed. No less than four pirates, including Charles fucking Vane, had made overtures to the pretty newcomer, but Ed had turned them all down with, "Sorry, mate, already got a hammock."
"You don't have to do that," Izzy said. He wasn't expecting Ed's fidelity; they barely know each other.
"I'm where I want to be," was Ed's answer, clambering into the hammock and lying back to back with Izzy.
Thirty years later, they were still together. Captain Blackbeard, not Captain Teach, and First Mate Hands of Queen Anne's Revenge. They were a legend, Blackbeard and his Dread Hands. The most frightening captain in the Caribbean and the greatest swordsman that ever lived.
Ed and Izzy.
They'd moved from hammock to bed, from crew quarters to the captain's cabin, but they moved together. Izzy had, one time, tried to protest, tried to tell Ed that first mates had their own quarters and Ed was going to need alone time.
Ed had told him, You're where I want you to be, and had lifted the man bodily and dropped him on the captain's berth.
The bosun got the first mate's cabin, and Izzy stayed with Ed after that.
End