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The sun dipped below the horizon, and with Hands nowhere to be seen, Eve felt secure enough to close her eyes and breathe in the salty air. The breeze soothed her reddened skin, eliciting a blissful sigh from deep within her chest. She briefly considered letting her guard down to feel the breeze through her hair but thought better of it.
Her first mate remained determined to work her to the bone after last night's display. He couldn't physically harm her without sparking conflicts with the captains, particularly Stede. Nevertheless, it didn't stop him from assigning the gruelling task of scrubbing the deck not once but twice. Since midday, she had toiled with blistered hands under the burning sun as everyone traipsed seawater and filth across the freshly cleaned surface.
"Again," he demanded once everyone left for supper.
If she squinted through the cracks in the wood, she could see them all gathered in the galley, plates piled high with succulent meat and steaming hot trimmings. Eve's mouth watered at the heavenly smells wafting up through the cracks. Hands watched her for a while, standing in his nook at the far end of the deck with a narrowed glare. Eventually, he moved on to find someone else to torture. Her little act had really gotten under his skin, and something told her that this was only the beginning of a gruelling week at his mercy.
But for now, she was taking a break—sanctioned by God Almighty himself, or not. The bones in her back felt as brittle as Button's teeth, and the ache in her shoulder had numbed her left hand again. She had to keep flexing it just to feel the blood inside it moving.
Eve shifted her gaze from the horizon to the rhythmic sway of the ship. The creaking of the wooden deck beneath her feet echoed the groans of the ship as it cut through the waves. It was the most peace she'd felt all day. "I thought I'd bring you some tea," the gentle voice of Stede interrupted her reverie. He must have waited for Hands to leave before moving. In his hands was a modest plate of foodstuff, strewn-together leftovers, and some biscuits from the ration stores. "I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I just grabbed a little of everything."
It was certainly an odd assortment of foods, as if someone who had never cooked had prepared it—far too many salty sides and little in the way of actual nutrition. She made a mental note to find Roach before bed and ask him for the scraps of the goat they roasted yesterday.
"Thank you, Captain," she acknowledged graciously, placing the plate on a nearby crate. Stede hesitated, clearly wrestling with something on his mind. Wondering, Eve prompted, "Is there something you need, sir?"
Seagulls soared overhead, momentarily distracting Stede before he leaned in, almost uncomfortably close. "Actually, there is," he began, his excitement palpable. "I heard rumours that you enjoy... things."
Perplexed, she replied, "I enjoy many things, Captain."
"Exactly!"
As the confusion deepened, the young woman pressed harder. "You want to talk about the fact that I enjoy many things?"
"Yes! Yes!" He laughed, then checked his surroundings with guilt in his eyes. "I wanted to ask, how did you know you enjoyed... many things?"
The realisation dawned on Eve. "Oh. Oh!" she said softly, understanding. "You mean that I enjoy many things."
Addressing such a delicate topic was difficult, not only due to their differing circumstances but also because Eve had no desire to divulge the details of her first foray into her sexual appetites. She cringed internally at the memory of poor Mary Adams.
It was years before pirating, during those initial years when impersonating her brother was a game rather than a necessity. Mary Adams was a friendly enough girl, portly and sweet—always smelling of sweet berries and warm bread. Eve had preyed on the very obvious crush the girl harboured for her brother, and, while wearing his breeches, had decided to act upon the strange feelings fluttering in her stomach. The encounter had been barely more than a kiss, but enough for Eve to realise that she much preferred the lips of another woman over the eager touch of a man. Sadly, the encounter was all it took for the girl's reputation to be tarnished. While there were no consequences for herself or Henry, the girl was never seen again. Even now, the guilt of her first kiss swelled her stomach with shame.
"I just sort of knew," she lied. "I told myself that letting everyone's lack of sensibility get in the way of what I wanted wasn't a life I wanted to live. So I live by the simple motto of 'try everything once'—although there are limits, I still wouldn't let Wee John tattoo my backside."
Stede regarded her curiously, but he didn't seem satisfied. "But how does one know, how does one approach it..." His voice dipped to a whisper as Ed approached the helm in one of the Captain's frilly blue shirts.
Eve wasn't a genius, but she could tell what the conversation was actually about. "Think about it this way: you like drinking whisky, you've drunk it most of your life. It's familiar and predictable, and you know how it tastes with particular meats. But one day, you see someone drinking a good hearty stout with their meal. And you can either listen to everyone telling you that you can only drink whiskey... or try the stout? If you don't like it, then that's fine, you can just continue to drink whiskey."
"I only drink bourbon." Stede's voice was firm, almost defensive.
Eve chuckled, "Well, Captain, sometimes you have to venture beyond your usual drink to discover new flavours. You might find that bourbon isn't the only thing that satisfies your palate."
"But I only like bourbon."
A deep sigh left her lips as she pinched her brow, before trying again, "Let me put it a different way. In summer, everyone wears linen; any colour, any cuff, but everyone always wears linen. And you visit a new tailor who suggests fur. You think this is ridiculous," Stede nodded in horror with her, picturing the scene in his head, "But as you go home, you picture how nice it would feel, how warm, how soft against your skin." She caught him gulping nervously and adjusting his sleeves, "You go back to the tailor and try the fur, and it just... fits. It fits better than anything you've ever worn, like the perfect hat or gloves. Does that make sense?"
"So, do you enjoy linen and furs?" he asked gently.
"Yes."
There was a pause as he glanced at the perfectly lit silhouette of Blackbeard, "Do you think Ed enjoys... linen and furs?"
"There's only one person who can answer that, Captain."
"I know, but Hands terrifies me. I keep thinking he's just going to take that sword and-"
"It's Ed, Captain. Only Ed can tell you if he likes linen and furs - not Fang, not Ivan, not even Izzy fucking Hands."
"Well, that does make more sense."
Later that evening, when passing the Captain's cabin, Eve strained to listen to Stede repeat their earlier conversation with Ed. He started strong, using the whiskey metaphor, but when he moved on to the linen and furs, Ed was lost.
Stede's voice, normally soft and soothing, rose and fell with enthusiasm and frustration. "You see, Ed, it's like choosing between the familiar taste of bourbon and trying something new, like a stout. It's about expanding your horizons and finding what truly satisfies your palate."
Ed's response was muffled, and Eve strained her ears to catch his words. "I only drink rum. I don't see the point in trying anything else."
There was a sigh from Stede, a sound of exasperation. "But Ed, it's not just about the drink. It's about experiences, about discovering new things that bring you joy and fulfilment. Like trying on a new fabric—"
Eve winced. The linen and furs analogy seemed to have missed its mark. She imagined Ed's confusion mirrored in his furrowed brow.
"I only wear leather," Ed grumbled, and Eve could almost picture his confused expression.
Stede persisted, his voice gentle but insistent. "Sometimes, what seems impractical at first can turn out to be the perfect fit. It's about taking risks, stepping out of your comfort zone."
"I'm comfortable with my zone."
She'd been so engrossed in the conversation that she hadn't heard the sharp footsteps of the first mate walk past and then circle back, watching her with a levelling stare. He didn't announce himself, merely watched her silent for a few beats. Tilting his head to the side, he watched her mouth along with the muffled voices, her hands moving with exasperation as she gesticulated in the air. Hands leaned against the cabin doorframe, the creak of the ship beneath them momentarily drowned out by the low hum of the ongoing discussion inside. Eve's realisation of Hands' presence sent a shiver down her spine. She turned her head, meeting his cold gaze with an unreadable expression.
"Smith," Hands said with a mocking smile. "Didn't know you were offering counselling services now. What's the topic, finding new fabrics for our dear Captains here?"
"Shhh."
"I beg your pardon-"
"I can't hear them if you keep talking-"
"I'm your First Mate, how dare you-"
"And I'm trying to listen. So hush."
Hands leaned closer, his voice a low growl, "What's Bonnet blabbering on about?"
"Shhh!"
Inside, Stede made one last attempt. "Ed, just consider it, alright? Life is full of surprises, and sometimes, the most unexpected choices lead to the greatest satisfaction."
There was a moment of silence, and then Ed's voice came through a bit clearer, "If you say so, mate. But don't expect me to wear linen or furs anytime soon."
Stede sighed, sounding both relieved and slightly disappointed. "Fair enough, Ed. As long as you're open to the idea."
Eve shot a triumphant look at Hands, who rolled his eyes but didn't comment. The two of them lingered by the door, listening as the conversation inside the cabin gradually shifted to other matters, leaving them in the dimly lit corridor of the ship.