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Summary
“Are you asking, Mr. Hands, if you can leave us for a month or two to sail up north?” Stede clarifies.
“Ah, you have no idea, Bonnet,” Izzy says. “Since I was a lad, there’s nothin’ I’ve wanted more than to get out there with those—those—” Izzy makes pinching gestures at the horizon, so utterly enraptured with the thought of whales that he’s apparently forgotten the name of them.
It is, Stede hates to admit, unbelievably endearing.
“Of course you may go, Izzy,” Stede says.
“What?” Ed blurts out. “Wait. Didn’t we just talk about this?”
(Izzy is desperate to go a-whaling. Stede is desperate for him and Ed to distance themselves from their rancid codependency. Ed wants his matelot's forgiveness and his boyfriend's devotion, but first and foremost he wants to maim a fucking whaler.)