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Getting boarded by pirates is a risk when you take a voyage by ship. Everyone knows that. Still, it shocks Jane to her core when it happens to the moderately sized merchant ship where she’s only recently begun working.
Some of her shipmates rush to grab guns, swords. Others hide below deck as the pirates draw closer, and a wide plank is placed between the two ships for them to walk across. There’s screaming, confusion: something about the flag?
“It’s Blackbeard!” someone shouts.
“No!” shouts another. “It can’t be!”
Everyone knows Blackbeard’s flag, the ghastly skeleton and blood-red hearts striking fear into the hearts of all. But there’s something about the one the pirates fly that seems… eccentric. The familiar elements are still there, but on top of the dark background and white bones are other, more colorful shapes: a silver thimble, an orange, and is that a cat?
What on earth to make of it?
Caught up in the mysterious sight, Jane realizes she’s forgotten to hide, and when she ducks behind the nearest barrel the pirates are already boarding.
“Looks like we scared ‘em away,” says one voice. “I told you this wasn’t going to work.”
“Si, this is the third one so far, I think these grand entrances are too intimidating,” says another. “We might want to rethink our approach.”
“Pathetic,” a third voice grumbles.
None of these people sound particularly bloodthirsty. Curious, she leans over just so, enough to get a glimpse of what’s happening on deck as she hides. It’s a small group of them, not all men, and several of them a bit grubby. Some of them look tough; some not so much.
It’s a very tall man that speaks next. “Well, a traveling drama troop that only performs by surprising people on boats is kind of a new thing. Might take a while to catch on.”
“The fact that we’re also going to rob them probably doesn’t help,” another man adds, nodding. He’s carrying a lute, decorated with ribbons, so he does indeed appear to be some kind of performer. “We’ll figure it out eventually, just have to figure out the best way to sell the whole piracy and theatre combo.”
“Are we just robbing them the normal way, then?” asks a person in a mustard yellow shirt. “Same as always?”
“Might as well,” says the man who had just called them pathetic. His voice, Jane notes, is distinct, and he’s got a wooden leg. “All right, you lot all know the drill.”
There are some murmurs of agreement, and the group splits up. Before Jane knows it, there’s a woman with a sword heading her way. She yelps and tries to make herself smaller, but there’s nowhere to hide.
“Hey, found one already,” the woman calls, cheerful. “She looks strong, broad shoulders.”
“We’re not lookin’ for new recruits today, Archie, we’re getting too many applications as it is.”
“Oh, right,” Archie says. “Forgot that bit. You know, this is the first crew I’ve been on that has a whole interview process? Usually they just kind of let you on the ship and tell you to try not to die.”
“Captain’s trying to stay organized, mate. He doesn’t like chaos.”
“Are you going to kill me?” Jane asks, voice trembling. She’d never really thought about dying this young, least of all to pirates. As odd as they are, maybe they’ll still be able to offer a quick death.
“Huh? Well, probably not,” says Archie. “We’re really more interested in looting and pillaging and stuff. No dying just for the sake of it.”
“Oh.”
“Got any gold? Jewels?”
Suddenly, she’s glad for her humble background. “Not really.”
“You can, like, hang out while we grab the treasure if you want!” calls the person in the yellow shirt. “We’re working on this show thing, it’s turning out pretty cool!”
That’s how Jane finds herself out in plain sight during the middle of a pirate raid, leaning against the railing with a man who introduces himself as Lucius, who explains that he’s not expected to do much of anything right now.
“I keep having to put off my honeymoon for this,” he explains. “So I’m putting in minimum effort, you know?”
“I get it,” Jane says. Some of the group has gone to raid the captain’s cabin, but the man with the lute is starting to play a song, and the man who appears to be the leader of the group is looking on. “Is that one the captain?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes it’s Frenchie, or Olu, or Zheng. Pete—that’s my husband—likes to say he’s captain on Tuesdays, but nobody actually listens to him. It’s kind of cute.”
“Huh.”
“Aren’t you going to ask about the flag? They all want you to ask about the flag.”
“What’s going on with the flag?” Jane glances at it again. It looks like some sort of arts and crafts project.
“Blackbeard’s got a new look,” Lucius says, grinning devilishly. “To go along with his new crew.”
At that, her blood runs cold. Maybe she’s gotten too comfortable here, letting these pirates muck about while she shoots the breeze with one of them and lets herself be serenaded by another. Blackbeard is Blackbeard: dangerous.
Lucius pats her shoulder, though it’s not as reassuring as he probably means it to be. “Oh my god, did I really scare you? I’m so fucking sorry, babe.”
Jane jumps at the approach of a thumping sound. The man she’d noticed earlier, the one that they’re treating like a leader, has approached with an impressive speed considering—she now notices—that he’s got a wooden leg. “Are you slacking off, twatty?”
“What’s it to you?” Lucius says, rolling his eyes. “Ugh, see? He’s always like this. Doesn’t bite, though.”
“I bite,” says the other man, flatly. He looks to be the oldest of the group, though not by much, and he’s dressed in all black. He’s far from the only man with a beard, but…
“Are you Blackbeard?” she asks.
“Yeah,” says the man.
He says it so casually, the name itself so intimidating that he doesn’t need to do anything else.
“Your beard’s more gray than black,” she blurts out. It’s true, but why did she say it?
“That happens when you survive a lot of shit you shouldn’t,” Blackbeard says. “And now my crew voted me into a theatre troupe, so fuck me, I guess.”
“Voted?”
“We value a collaboration-focused process,” Lucius offers, sounding rather bored, like he has to explain this a lot. “Like, all of us crew act as a union, and we do things how we want.”
“Stupid,” Blackbeard mutters. “Right back to having a fucking talent show, in the end.”
“I thought—“ Jane begins.
“You thought he’d be taller?” Lucius says. “Yeah, he gets that a lot.”
Back on the Revenge that night, Izzy settles into his hammock. Frenchie smiles next to him; they’ve got a rotation for who gets to share the spot with him during storytime.
They’ve survived another day. Survived months now, while Edward and Bonnet are off trying to carry out their strange little retirement plan. There’d been a time where Izzy would have thought he’d sooner drop dead than go this long without his captain, but—Edward’s not his captain anymore. He’s gone on to something new.
Izzy’s gone on to something new, too.
Around him and at his feet, the crew has gathered. Some of them are cuddling, some giggling, some staring at him intently. None of them call him Blackbeard, except during raids; that’s nothing more than a costume, something to be donned only when needed. He’d lost sight of it for a while, but Blackbeard only ever needed to be that.
Blackbeard doesn’t protect him when he’s home. The crew does that.
He sighs and leans back, content, and opens the book on his lap.
“Do the voices, Iz,” Frenchie murmurs, voice already heavy with sleep.
“No fucking voices,” says Izzy.
There’s general disagreement from the crowd at that, boos and complaints, just like every night. He’s got to make a little bit of a show of it, or else they’ll get too comfortable.
“Fine, all right,” Izzy says. He’s warm; his belly’s full; his family’s beside him. “I’ll do the voices. But only tonight.”