Work Text:
Izzy watched as The Revenge glided away from the docks and began to make its way to open water. Edward and Stede waved at them from the pier with all their might. Izzy turned his back on them and clomped over to Frenchie standing behind the wheel. "Hold this course 'till I say otherwise," he said.
"Aye, aye, Captain," Frenchie grinned and saluted. "Oh hey, by the way! The Queen told me to tell you that her and Spanish Jackie will be waitin' for you in the brig as soon as we leave port. So… I think that would be now?"
"Thanks," Izzy nodded, thrilled to have someone on board to actually take things seriously and start thinking about their next steps. He left Frenchie – but not before the younger man had kissed him on the temple – and made his way below deck.
He found the two women sitting at a large table in one of the cabins, drinking whiskey and quietly conversing.
"You got the message," Zheng smiled at him as he limped over to the table.
"Indeed I did." Izzy sat down with a groan and reached to grab the only bottle he could see. Jackie slid over a glass with her wooden hand. He filled it up half-way and took a conservative sip. He'd subconsciously tried to cut back on the excessive alcohol consumption he'd partaken in for the past half a year. "So, fill me in. What's the situation?"
"Jackie's been trying to get in touch with some of her old contacts, mainly in Brazil and Florida," Zheng started the briefing.
"Met a familiar chap at port," Jackie nodded. "Told 'im to pass the message along."
Izzy nodded at her, pleased with the proactivity. "Do you know how many of your recruits died in the explosion?" he asked the other woman.
Zheng hissed quietly. "Most of them," she sighed with a deep scowl on her soft face.
"Numerically?"
"I had about three hundred men and women, give or take a few. At least ninety percent are gone, and those that made it out alive were probably taken by the Navy."
"Fuck," Izzy said.
"Fuck indeed," Jackie echoed and twirled the whiskey in her glass.
"Even if those people had survived, the ships are still gone. The Red Flag, and all the others," Zheng said, trying very hard to keep her tone of voice professional and not give in to the anger. "How many people does The Revenge carry?"
Izzy shrugged. Every question he'd ever asked Stede about the physical capabilities of the vessel had been met with 'how am I supposed to know?' or similar sentiments. "My guess is… fifty. Give or take."
"And this is your only ship?"
"Aye."
Zheng ran her hands through her pigtails in frustration. "One ship against the nearly two hundred of the Royal Navy. Not great."
"We can worry about the numbers later," Izzy said. "What we need right now is a heading, and we need it fast. I can already feel them breathin' down our neck."
"Like you said, we could go across the Atlantic or thread the needle to go around South America," Zheng said and stood up, pushing some of their belongings away from the center of the table so she could prop open a world map. She gestured vaguely around the parchment to recount the early morning's discussion.
"How big a deal is gettin' to China?" Jackie asked and leaned on her elbows. "I mean, do we need to go there?"
"It would give us a lot of ships," Zheng said with a shrug. "Though, it's a long trip and I can't say for certain how many."
Izzy scratched his chin, eyes pinned on the map. "How many men would you need to sail there?"
"Twenty to thirty should suffice. And a ship, of course."
"If we get you that, do you think we could split up?"
Zheng crossed her arms, intrigued. "What are you thinking?"
Izzy also stood and hovered over the map. "It would be beneficial for us to strike Banes where he least expects it," he said and tapped his finger on England.
"Sailing right into the English Channel is obviously suicide with the Brits and the Spaniards, but what if there was another way?" He dragged his fingers above, circling the Norwegian Sea.
"You want to go past them through the north?" Zheng's eyes widened.
"Think about it," Izzy said, a determined gleam in his eyes. "We set off from the Caribbean, shoot northeast all the way to Canada. Restock there, then head through Iceland and end up in northern Norway. We can creep down south alongside the border, maybe even go through the country via rivers, and come out to the Baltic."
"The Brits will be so busy securin' the Channel that they won't even think about the Nordics," Jackie said, a grin dancing on her lips.
Zheng stared at the map, unblinking. "It might just be crazy enough to work," she said after a moment and glanced at Izzy. "But you'd have me go to China during that?"
"Yes. We can split up as soon as we find a ship and a crew. We'll draw less attention if we don't sail as a fleet."
"And while I rally people in southeast Asia…"
"...The Revenge will do so in Europe."
Zheng slumped back down into her chair and took a long look at Izzy. "It's a big fucking risk," she said.
"We didn't become pirates because we wanted a risk-free profession, did we?" Izzy asked with a small smirk.
"Amen to that," Jackie snorted and banged her prosthesis on the tabletop a couple times.
"We don't have anything to lose, I guess," Zheng shrugged with a chuckle. "Fuck it. I'm in."
"Jackie's in, too," the other woman confirmed and emptied her glass of whiskey. Izzy and Zheng did the same to officiate the plan. "Y'know, my li'l Nordic hubby will be so fuckin' thrilled to hear about this," Jackie grinned at the mere thought.
"I heard you and your 'Nordic hubby' had been causing havoc last night," Izzy said with a raised eyebrow.
"And what're you gonna do 'bout that, Captain Hands?" Jackie asked, voice a mixture of amusement and threat.
Izzy raised his hands in mock surrender and turned to leave. "Absolutely fuckall. Have at it!"
"Good, 'cuz he's the only husband I got left and I gotta make it count!"
Izzy laughed to himself as he walked out of the cabin. It would certainly be an experience to sail with Spanish Jackie, but one he rather looked forward to. Alongside her husband , of course. Izzy wondered if he could get something actually useful out of The Swede during the next weeks of travel. He'd been such a pathetic whelp when Izzy had first met him, but he seemed to have hardened a bit under Jackie's command.
He climbed back on deck, cursing his leg on the way, and took in the sea breeze. It was going to be a hot day if the cloudless sky was anything to go by, but the wind was on their side so he couldn't be too frustrated. He lit a cigarette – the one vice he would never give up – and leaned against the railing, watching the crew, his crew, work.
Work was perhaps too hopeful a word to use; most of them were simply lounging around and doing absolutely nothing. Lucius had his sketchbook out and was keeping a keen eye on a lone seagull perched on top of a barrel. Roach lazily rummaged through the boxes of supplies they'd dragged onboard before leaving, seeming looking for something to turn into that evening's dinner. Wee John was knitting something that sort of resembled a shirt and The Swede watched his handiwork curiously. Jim, Archie and Oluwande – who seemed to be attached by the hips these days – mopped the deck, though it mostly consisted of Archie and Jim sword fighting with the brooms and Oluwande doing all the actual work. Fang was showing Pete how to tie knots, but the latter was much more occupied with making heart-eyed at his fiancé.
Still, Izzy didn't find the energy to be mad at the crew for this moment of leisure. God knew they deserved a bit of down-time after everything they'd been through in the past couple months. A small smile spread on his lips when he watched Frenchie skip down the stairs and over to him.
"Hiya," the younger man said and flashed a grin. "I take it the talks went well?"
"What gave it away?" Izzy asked and dumped the rest of his cigarette overboard, knowing Frenchie despised the smoke.
"The fact you're not screaming or stomping around," Frenchie said. "And is that a little smile I see? Right there?" He poked the corner of Izzy's mouth.
"Fuck off," the older man swatted his hand away, though his smile only widened. "Who's lookin' after the wheel?"
"The rope, my second-in-command," Frenchie beamed and grabbed Izzy's hand, lacing their fingers together.
"Don't tell Black Pete that," Izzy said. "He'd get jealous."
Frenchie laughed and rested his head on the shorter man's. If it had been anyone else, Izzy would've beheaded them on the spot, but Frenchie was an exception so he allowed himself to feel short if it made the first mate happy. "What'd you chat about, then?" Frenchie asked, nuzzling against Izzy's soft hair.
"Our heading," the Captain replied.
"And?"
"We're going north."
"Ooh," Frenchie straightened up and looked at Izzy with a twinkle in his eyes. "Never been north! How high are we talkin'?"
"As high as possible," Izzy said.
"Wait, we're going to the Moon?" Frenchie asked, eyes wide.
Izzy blinked. "What?"
"If we're goin' as far up as possible then eventually we'll go over the edge of the world and end up on the Moon," Frenchie explained as if it was common knowledge.
"That's not–" Izzy stopped himself, unable to bring himself to tell the younger man the truth when he saw the genuinity in his sparkly eyes. "Not that far north," he opted to say with a laugh and squeezed Frenchie's hand. "Just up to Iceland."
"Aw man," Frenchie's shoulders deflated and he leaned against Izzy's shoulder, pouting. "Wanted to go to the Moon, honestly."
Izzy grabbed him by the waist. "Once all this Prince bullshit is over, we'll go to the fucking Moon, okay?" he said, looking up at the taller man with a soft grin.
"Promise?" Frenchie asked and placed his hands on Izzy's shoulders.
"Promise." Izzy got on his tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss on Frenchie's lips. The younger man leaned down and chased his lips, stealing another peck with a quiet giggle.
"Y'know, I remember Blackbeard saying that this ship is a spaceship," Frenchie said, still so close their noses were smushing together.
"A safe space ship," Izzy corrected with an amused huff. "It's very different."
"Well, who's to say it can't be both?" Frenchie's eyes glimmered in the bright sun, bringing out the hazel undertones.
"Fuck it, you're right," Izzy said and pressed his forehead against Frenchie's. "It's a safe space spaceship."
"Wow. Say that five times fast."
"I barely got it right once."
Frenchie laughed and finally backed away from Izzy's face, though his hands still remained on the shorter man's shoulders. Izzy didn't mind, sort of having forgotten that there was anyone else around. Frenchie had that effect on him.