Chapter Text
"So I know that you did bad
But if one more person says it I might go mad"
Want You Back, Maisie Peters
As someone familiar with the myth of Pandora’s box, Stede had decided that the best place for Lucius’ journal was stuffed down the side of Izzy’s cot. He could only hope that Mossy, who he’d left Izzy under the watchful eye of, wouldn’t take it upon herself to make the bed too thoroughly any time soon. It perhaps wasn’t the best hiding place, but on an unfamiliar ship, not knowing where his minimal luggage was, it was the only place he’d been able to think of.
Stede’s insides clenched as he walked down the long corridor he’d been told led to the galley, where a meal might be awaiting him. His steps began to drag, and he glanced over his shoulder, feeling as though the journal was exerting some kind of force over him that strengthened the further away he got.
Stede was willing to accept that things were worse with Ed than he’d thought, but he knew that once he saw whatever it was that Lucuis had written, there was no going back, whether all the details were accurate or not. Perhaps it was cowardly or even ‘selfish’ to remain purposefully ignorant of the more unpalatable parts of Edward.
On the other hand, Stede knew that Ed didn’t want to be the man contained within the journal and had said as much. So, wasn’t judging him by a handful of rage-inspired actions more of a betrayal to Ed than ignoring those actions was a betrayal to his crew? Stede really wasn’t in a position to judge when he was one of the people who’d made Ed angry in the first place, was he?
Stede’s shoulders twitched as though he would be able to shake off his guilt at the thought, trying to ground himself in his surroundings. He checked each door in the corridor as he passed it, hearing chatter from behind several of them, as people moved around. In the distance, though, from what he feared was the galley, he could hear some familiar voices answering a woman’s slightly raised one.
“If I find myself having to scrape Little Princess off the walls,” the woman said, “it won’t be cannon balls we’ll be firing off the ship, it’ll be you!”
“Yes, ma’am,” he heard Roach say with something akin to awe in his voice.
Stede crept into the galley, finding a much larger room than expected, full of long tables, fit to seat a hundred men. All of them were unoccupied except one, where his crew were seated. Stede thought he had found the source of the angry voice in the imposing woman dressed like a merchant who stood before them, on one arm holding a cat that was covered in a mysterious dark powder. She glowered down at his entire crew who all looked rather sheepish, apparently half-way through eating a stew. The cat hung in her grasp defeatedly, giving a sneeze. A man was busy working beside them all at the huge stove and looked up at the cat worriedly, shielding the pot he was stirring.
“Is everything alright?” Stede asked.
“Oh, Captain, you’re back.” said Oluwande, in relief.
“Ah,” said the woman, turning to him with a look that compelled Stede to take a step backward, “so you’re the one to blame for the state of my cannonballs.”
“Your cannon balls?” Stede repeated.
“My cannonballs.” she repeated impatiently.
Stede blinked, looking to his crew for a clue, unable to meet any of their eyes as they all had bowed heads like guilty school children, apart from Buttons who stared back at him blankly.
“Sorry, but,” Stede said to the woman, “who are you?”
“I’m Aretta Traoré, the boatswain. You must be Captain Thomas.” she said, looking down at him in a way that left him acutely aware that he was shorter than her.
“Um, yes. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” he said, offering his hand, which she did not take, so Stede returned it to his side hesitantly, “Have- have I done something wrong?”
“I understand you’re responsible for this lot.” she said, jerking her head towards the crew.
“Um, yes.” Stede said.
She gave a humourless smile.
“Would you mind making sure, in future, that when they’re told to count and stack the cannon balls, they actually stack the cannon balls instead of playing boules with them. I signed up to run a ship, not manage a creche.”
Stede turned back to his crew who shifted restlessly in their seats.
“Were you doing that?” Stede asked, his exhaustion evident.
“Actually, it was bowling, I believe, Cap’n.” Buttons said, leading to groans from those around him.
“Some of us were stacking them.” Oluwande said, giving Pete and The Swede a significant look.
“Look,” said Pete, looking at Lucius who seemed to be glued to his side. “Lucius is back, so we were just relaxing for a minute.”
“Can you relax on your own time?” Aretta said, “It’s not a lot to ask.”
“We’ll do that in future, won’t we?” Stede said.
The crew mumbled in what may or may not have been agreement.
“Will that be all?” Stede asked, hopefully, rather eager to sit down ready for the meal he’d been promised.
“No, that will not be all.” Aretta said, coldly, “When I woke up this morning, Little Princess was a ginger tabby. Now look at her.”
Aretta held out the cat, who gave a sneeze so strong ‘Little Princess’ herself seemed startled by it.
“Do you mind, darling,” the man at the stove interrupted, “I don’t particularly want gunpowder or cat snot in the stew.”
“Of course, Jean.” she said, softening for a fleeting moment and shifting the cat to her other side, before looking icily back at the crew again.
“We didn’t mean to push her into the gunpowder.” said The Swede. “We were just playing.”
“A munitions room is no place for this foolishness.” Aretta said. “She’s a working animal, she’s not to be toyed with, especially around gunpowder. Furthermore, and I can’t believe I have to say this, but no sources of ignition in the munitions room either.” she said, scowling at Roach.
“Sources of what?” asked Pete.
Aretta’s jaw clenched.
“She said no smoking, love.” said Lucius.
“I hope common sense should tell you why that’s a bad idea for all of us. Did none of you see the sign on the door?”
“Well, none of us, apart from the Captain, can read – and Lucius.” Wee John said.
“There’s an illustration of a lit match struck through, surely that should have given you a clue.” she said.
“Oh,” said Oluwande. “I thought that was an illustration of a flame lily. If I’d known, I would have been more careful.”
“It wasn’t a very good drawing,” said The Swede.
“Oh, you should get Lucius to do one, he’s very good at drawing.” Pete suggested.
The woman let out the quietest of hisses and everyone flinched.
“Perhaps,” Stede interrupted, “Mrs Traoré would prefer you just didn’t bring cigarettes or matches into the munitions room in future. I mean, we’ve been told now.”
“You’d better not.” said Aretta, returning her attention to Stede. “Captain Thomas, get your crew in order. I expect better.”
“I will, ma’am.” Stede said, inclining his head to her ever so slightly, on instinct. “Whatever you need.”
“Good.” she declared. “Now, what I need is one of you to watch over our guest overnight. You-” she pointed at Roach, “you’re the surgeon, aren’t you?”
“Oh,” said Roach, “No thanks.”
“It wasn’t a request.” Aretta said.
“Izzy did try to murder us all.” said The Swede, Roach having presumably informed them all of Izzy’s presence. “I wouldn’t like to look after him either.”
“Nor me,” said Pete.
“Captain Banks, in his wisdom,” Aretta said, disdainfully, “has decided you are on this ship to keep Izzy alive. We expect you to keep up your end of the bargain.”
“I told him,” Roach persisted, “I’ve saved his life and given Captain Banks my advice, now I’m done.”
“Your presence on this ship is dependent on Izzy’s survival.” Aretta said. “You can’t expect to just chop his leg off and sit around smoking cigarettes for the rest of the journey.”
“I’ll work for you, but someone else can look after him.” Roach said, crossing his arms.
“Why do we have to?” said Wee John. “I wouldn’t have minded if it was some random guest, but it’s Izzy. He left us for dead. Whatever happened to him, he’s only got himself to blame for.” said Wee John.
“No,” said Lucius, stiffly, “He’s got Blackbeard to blame.”
“Why are you defending Izzy all of a sudden?” Pete asked, loosening his grip on Lucius.
“I heard enough to know that he’s not the man that marooned you all.” said Lucius.
“But he is .” said The Swede. “It was definitely him.”
“Yeah,” Pete said, “just because he got injured, doesn’t make what he did to us okay.”
“He’s not injured, he had a limb amputated.” Lucius said, severely.
Stede shuddered.
Stede wasn’t sure Lucius had been right that he was responsible for Izzy’s current state. If the man had been injured on a raid there was nothing practical Stede could, or would have wanted to do, to prevent it. Nevertheless, with the gory ordeal of the amputation so fresh, and the knowledge that Ed had only been embarking upon increasingly risky raids, since Stede’s desertion, he couldn’t help but feel some level of sympathy and guilt, justified or not.
“ You defile beautiful things. ” Chauncey had said.
Struggle as he might against the accusation, even if he weren’t responsible for Izzy, Stede had managed to ruin things on The Revenge by leaving, and it was impossible to know how far reaching the consequences of that decision had been. Lucius himself had, allegedly, suffered them.
“You do it then.” Roach told Lucius, “Since you’re all chummy now.”
Lucius balked.
“I’m not suited to it. Anyway, Izzy hates me.”
“What are you suited for, Mr Spriggs?” asked Aretta.
“I’ll do it.” Stede heard himself say.
“What?” asked Aretta.
“I’ll watch over Izzy tonight.” Stede said.
“ You? ” said Lucius incredulously.
“Are you sure that you can handle this on your own?” Oluwande said, dubiously.
“Of course I can.” Stede said.
Unwilling as he was to go back to that stuffy little cabin, Stede thought it was one task on the ship he could definitely do.
“Riiight.” said Lucius.
Stede couldn’t help but bristle a little at this. He was used to being doubted, but after Lucius so honestly stating that he was incompetent, it stung even more.
“I’m perfectly capable of looking after a sick man for a few hours.” Stede said, defensively. “I’ve done it before.”
“You’ve paid people to do it before, you mean.” said Lucius.
“What’s with you today?” muttered Pete. “Are you alright?”
“No, I’ve done it myself.” said Stede, hotly. “I do have children, you know, they got sick sometimes, and I looked after my father when he was sick when he was convinced the nurses were poisoning him. I can handle it.”
Lucius looked unconvinced, but Aretta nodded in satisfaction.
“Well, that solves that problem.” said Aretta.