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Sometimes being a part of a crew is like being one with the ocean. Tensions rise and fall like the waves. Stede always says that gentleman pirates shake emotions off as they come on. Problem is, there's only room for one gentleman pirate.
It had been an especially exhausting past few days. The storms would not let up so they had been docked in port longer than they wanted. Even in the safety of the port they had sustained some damage, which required everyone to pick up an extra shift. To add more to that, they were ambushed by a feisty little group of hoodlums looking to rob. Their expertise was minimal, rising only to meet Stede’s halfway, so luckily the robbery turned into more of a bargaining. Stede was happy; said maybe they made some new friends. Others were happy they were just off the bloody ship.
Despite their close call, Stede had become close to insufferable. With every order, there's two following close behind, and the crew's anxiety is so whipped up that they really don't want to fall behind. They just want to get out of port and move on with their lives. Stede is there, leaning over their shoulders.
So Frenchie is sat there, desperately trying to sew up the patch in their flag that had ripped, before Stede can get another order out. It’s too much information at once, but he has faith in his captain and just wants to listen. If he’s behind on tasks, it's his fault, right?
“Frenchie, are you listening to me?”
Frenchie whips his head up. His shaking hands falter, and he accidentally stabs his palm with the needle. He lets out a swear, trying to hold eye contact with his captain. “Yes, capp’n. Sorry, what is it?”
Stede doesn't seem to notice. “I need you on the outside of the ship. The barnacles won't scrape themselves, and we need to be in tip top shape before we leave.”
Frenchie grips the flag in his hands. “Capp’n, with all due respect, i'm not finished yet if i could jus-”
“You're finished when I say you are!” Stede manages to keep his reply chipper, which churns knots in Frenchie’s stomach. But Frenchie just wants to finish the flag, take a break, and then he’ll dance for the captain if he wants to, he just wants a lie down. Just for a minute.
And then Stede puts his fucking hands on the flag, pulls it, and it rips.
The air stills around them, hot and stale. Frenchie keeps his eyes focused on Stede because he knows if he looks anyone else in the eye, he might actually burst into tears. He drops his project to the ground and puffs his cheeks.
“Right then, what we're not gonna do? Is have any of that…cuz’...yeah.”
Frenchie never storms off, but he's mad, so there's a little extra weight to his steps when he throws open the hatch door and slinks into the barracks below. Most of the crew sit in stunned silence, having just seen their sweetest member haul out like that. Jim glares at Stede.
“Nice one.”
Oluwande stands up abruptly. “I should go check on him, make sure he's not getting into anything he shouldn't,” and then he's off. The rest of the crew stare at their captain expectantly.
Stede purses his lips. He feels bad, really he does, but there's work to be done. He claps his hands together.
“All right, men! Man your posts! There's only a couple of hours until sundown so we need to really buck up and batten the hatches before it's time to settle down. As you are!”
There's a few grumbles around sensing the tension in the air but they all obey, reporting to their shifts. Stede keeps a straight face until he makes his way toward Ed, who’s hanging out near the back of the ship. His composure quickly turns into a grimace. Ed regards him with pity.
“Not one of your best, mate.”
Stede huffs a frustrated sigh, resting his forehead on Ed’s shoulder.
“I don't understand what happened. Frenchie’s usually so pleasant, I generally don't have to worry about the little guy.”
Ed raises his eyebrow questionably. “Forget him; don't know what’s gotten into you, you're being a right prick about it.” Stede pouts at him, hurt that he’s not immediately taking his side.
“Well, what do you suppose I do now?”
Ed grins. Stede’s been such a control freak, he's glad to finally have the helm again. He grabs Stede’s hands, pulling him away from the bow.
“I want you to come take a dip with me. We’ll ask them to come along with . C’mon. It'll be fun.”
There's a protest on Stede’s lips, but the glee on Ed's face is enough to snuff it. He supposes he does need a refresher. And butterflies float up in his stomach at the spontaneity. He can be so romantic. Before long, a bunch of them are stumbling down the ramp, tearing their clothes off and diving into the water. He thinks it'll do them some good.
It doesn't actually go well.
The next thing they know, Stede is being dragged aboard in a mess of flailing limbs and frantic screams. There's shouting from the lot of them as they plummet onto the deck. Lucius is screeching for Roach and Ed is cradling Stede to his chest, dragging him along with not so much grace. The crew that was left behind scramble up to see the commotion.
“What…What…what's happening?!” Oluwande stutters. Roach pushes through, crouching down by Ed to see what's amiss.
Stede’s looked better.
There's an angry red welt slashed around his entire neck. He's grimacing in pain, understandably, and makes hardly any sound, only managing some hyperventilated wheezes. Roaches’ eyes widen.
“Good God.”
“Christ Ed, Whatd’ja do?”
Ed glares at all of them.
“Jellyfish! The fucker came up and tried to strangle him with its tentacles. He fought hard, but I fucking got him!” He can't help but beam a little after his words. Stede’s pawing at him, grounding him once more. Ed nods and pulls Roach in real close.“You gotta do something!”
Roach is nodding furiously. Pushing his hair from his face.
“Right, uh…help me get him below deck!” And they obey Roach’s request, following him down into the safety below.
******************
Frenchies got his arms thrown over the side of the ship, eyeing the sun as it begins to set on this day. He's weary and no matter how hard he tries, he can't keep his mind off the captain. The ship is quiet now, save for the thump of the last of the barrels on the deck and the final hoisting of their fishing nets. The day is done. Frenchie picks at the skin around his fingers.
“I just thought of something.” Frenchie jumps at the sound of The Swedes' voice, who snuck up on him. He didn't mean to. He continues. “While the captains down there below us are in peril, who's going to read us a story?”
Frenchie has no idea why he's asking him of all people. “Couldn't tell ya mate.” Now’s his time to fuck off.
The Swede doesn't budge.
“It's just that, it'll be so hard to go to sleep, after the day we've had, and Lucius is not very good at the voices and Wee Johns’ not up for it, and Buttons ha–”
“Right right” Frenchie interrupts. He doesn't like where this is going. The Swede steps closer, staring at Frenchie with those piercing blue eyes.
“And you just have a lovely voice…”
Frenchie is flattered really, but he's not really sure he wants to do Stede a favor and step in for him. He can't help it though, he loves his captain, and he loves his crew. It doesn't take much to wear him down. He eyes The Swede, an idea brewing in his head.
“Fine, I'll do it,” he says with a shrug. Before The Swede can thank him and walk away to report to the others, Frenchie grabs him by the sleeve. “Not so simple, mate. You've got to help me.”
Soon enough, the sun has set, the lamps are lit, and the crew begins to gather on the deck with their sleeping supplies. The captains hadn't been around all day, but relief befalls all of them when they appear to settle in for storytime. Ed coaxes Stede down to sit reclined next to him, keeping him close with an arm around his back. Stedes neck is wrapped in cloth, and he looks feverish, but he's alive. Frenchie steals a quick glance at him, noting that he's staring. He looks away, clears his throat and prepares his speech, standing before everybody.
“Evening, gents. As you all know, capp’ns aren't feeling well tonight. Say hi, capp’ns.”
Everyone turns their head around to eye the captains. They both wave back in a bashful manner. Frenchie continues.
“I've been recruited for storytime. ‘Spose it's for a good cause. But I'm not much of a reader. Or a talker. So please accept this humble offering,” he says, strumming his lute. “Thanks bunches.”
He looks up to where The Swede is standing and gives him a small nod. The Swede begins to trill, light and sweet, providing a background for Frenchie to play. They match each other's pace, and Frenchie starts to sing.
“Home is a place we’re not able to touch,
It ebbs like the sea and it's coarse and its rough
But the funny thing is,
It's the place i could be,
When the end of the world comes a crashin for me.
It’s filled to the brim full of lackeys like I
They swear and they stomp and they joke and they cry
And I take it all in,
I'll be happy and free,
When the end of the world comes a crashin for me.
It's working. Lucius snuggles close to Black Pete, their eyes falling shut. Roach slows the sharpening of his knife, his hands dropping into his lap.
Some people say that there's magic out here
And they'll search and they'll search til they're dreary I fear
But i'll say i'm not scared cause my friends here will be
When the end of the world comes a crashin for me.
The song is over, and is evidently a success by the soft breaths and snores that surround him. Frenchie beams with pride, giving The Swede a thumbs up. The blonde man beams back and takes that as permission to leave his post. Frenchie starts to pull his lute off of him when his eyes meet Stede’s. He sighs, thrusting his hands in his pockets and saunters over to them. Ed is asleep, his arms crossed over each other and leaning into Stede’s side. Stede blinks up at Frenchie with heavy eyes. His voice comes out as a whispered croak.
“Well done Frenchie. I reckon we should have you play at night more often.”
Frenchie gives him a tight lipped smile. “Thank you, capp’n.” he says, softly. Stede reaches up and Frenchie catches his hand in his.
“I'm terribly sorry for my behavior today. Truly I am. If there's anyway I cou–”
“Save your voice, capp’n,” Frenchie says, though he was enjoying the apology. Stede would have to rest tomorrow, whether he liked it or not, so Frenchie was looking forward to the break. But he was really relieved to see that Stede was not angry with him. He gestures towards Ed. “Need some help back to the captain's quarters?”
Ed heaves a deep sigh in his sleep. Stede bumps his head gently with his own, and leans his head back as far as he can (which is only a tilt) to catch the tropical breeze coming their way. He takes a deep breath through his nose.
“Why don't you take a load off here with us? Just for a bit? Just to…be?”
A grin spreads across Frenchie’s face, happy to have his happy-go-lucky captain back. He plops down beside him, propping his lute up and leaning against his other side. The air ruffles through his own hair again, taking with it the friction and stress of today. He nuzzles Stede’s shoulder affectionately.
“Yes. Let’s just be.”