Chapter Text
Shedding his aristocrat identity was like a weight off Stede’s shoulders. It freed him to become a proper pirate. But old habits die hard. When Mary offered to pack up all his clothes for him to retrieve, he could not resist.
He had planned to row back to the Revenge then throwing a u-turn to Bridgeport to pick up the rest of his clothes but instead, he runs into his crew, marooned on a small island.
Stuffed in a small dingy, they pose as a survivors of a shipwreck and board a small merchant ship, the Royal James.
“See, now that wasn’t too hard was it?” Stede asked the captain as Oluwande finished tying up the last of the prisoners.
“Please, don’t kill us!” The captain cried.
“Don’t kill you… what do you think we are?” Stede asked, brandishing a cutlass for taste, “we’re pirates, not savages. Now get in the boat lest you want your ear cut off.” He waved the sword around earning a few more shrieks.
The rest of his crew march their prisoners into their previously occupied dinghy and pile them in one by one.
“Step lightly,” Stede warned in concern as he discreetly slipped a pocket watch into the little boat. The watch was pure gold and a family heirloom. It should fetch them a pretty penny if not a new ship once they get to land. “Now you,” he held a dagger to the captain’s throat for intimidation, “tell everyone there is a new player entering the high seas. Captain Edwards is here to claim the title of pirate king. So enemies beware.”
The captain squealed, nodding carefully as to not slit his own throat.
“That should do it,” Stede brushed himself off, giving the signal for the crew to lower the dinghy into the water. “Now off your go. There should be land if you row three days northwest of here.” He tossed the men a couple of filled water skins. “Best of luck to you.”
He watched as the little boat took. Off towards the horizon. “Well done men!” Stede congratulated shaking each of their hands, “set course for Bridgetown. Now that we’ve got ourselves a ship, this calls for a celebration!”
The men cheer as Olivia excuses herself to check on her young. It was hard being a single working mother. Since they have a new place to live, Buttons contemplated inviting her to bring her family to live on the ship.
The trip to Bridgetown was quick, as was the limited interaction with Mary and the kids. He was supposed to be dead after all. With a quick hug for Mary and Doug and a peck on the cheek to each of the kids, he was back on his way to the ship with several trunks full of clothes. He never realized he had so many clothes.
“Is this the last of it, Captain?” Oluwande asked, checking the tally of trunks.
He had been learning how to read with the Captain. Without Lucius, they needed at least another literate person onboard and Oluwande was the quickest in picking it up. They discovered, he even had a knack for creative writing, something Lucius, despite his beautiful penmanship, preferred being a connoisseur of rather than an auteur. It gave Stede extra gratification in teaching him how to read and write. The life Oluwande breathed into poems made the sea yearn and the sky weep - but that story is for another time.
“Captain. CAPTAIN!” Oluwande called, bringing Stede’s wandering mind back to the task on hand.
“What? Ah, yes, I sure hope so,” Stede said, “If we really need to, we can always sell these for supplies,” he added. Honestly he probably didn’t need that many clothes anymore. This was probably at least two or three times what he had in his auxiliary wardrobe. He opened one of the trunks to see what was in it. A beautiful dark purple long coat made from fine alpaca wool - very hard to find. He hugged it. This would have been perfect for Ed in the winter. His heart wracked with guilt at how he left and returned to his family without saying a word. Of all the terrible mistakes he had made in life, that had to have been the worse.
“Captain!” Wee John screamed panicked, “you have to see this!”
“What is it?”
“Bad luck, is what it is,” Buttons said seriously, “we better get rid of it before the draugrs come and feast upon our souls. It’ll lead old Davy Jones straight to us.”
“A coffin?” Stede breathed in relief, still holding the coat. The coffin was intricately decorated and carefully painted to perfection. No doubt this was a loved aristocrat who paid good money to travel to their final destination. “Now, now, settle down, crew. It’s only a coffin. A deceased member who undoubtedly has loved ones waiting for their arrival. Does it say where this is to be delivered to?”
“It says to…” Black Pete kept turning the note around and around.
Oluwande grabbed the note from the other side of the coffin, “It’s a letter, to My Dearest Ant,” he slowly read, guilty about reading the rest of it, but he didn’t have to because he was already cut off by his captain.
“Oh it must be a love letter,” Stede gushed. (Most letters start with Dear or Dearest, Stede…) “he must have been en route to reunite with his love. Love’s final journey,” Stede said, starry eyed. Since his talk with Mary that got him to realize he was not just fond of Ed, but in love with him, Stede had been absolutely lovestruck and romanticizing everything he saw. It drove the rest of the crew crazy.
“I still say we throw it overboard,” Roach said, “just to be sure,” he looked around. The sun was setting, “quickly, quickly. We are running out of time,” added, bumping into the coffin.
Stede grabs the letter, “Come now, we are talking about a man’s last wish,” he read the address, “look here, it’s only in Port of Spain, a couple days from here. If you guys are all scared, put the coffin in my room. I’ll look after it,” he said with a decisive nod.
The crew grumbled, but did as they were told.
The last of the afternoon sun was peaking through the windows as Stede stroked the beautiful cherrywood coffin. “Those guys,” he scoffed. They had not been very careful in carrying it inside and the lid of the coffin had slid out of place. “I must apologize,” Stede said to the coffin’s inhabitant, “I’ll just… try… to put… this back,” he strained. Despite being much stronger than he was a few months ago, he was still not strong enough to set the solid wood piece back into place and ends up dropping it with a loud thunk.
“Oh my I’m so sor-,” he started, but the face of the man inside the coffin caught Stede completely off guard.
“No,” tears welled in his eyes, “it cannot be,” he stroked the handsome clean shaved face with a trembling hand. His face was smooth and cold to the touch. “Ed,” he shakily whispered. Stede sank to his knees beside the coffin and wept hysterically. He thought he had more time, he thought he could make a name for himself that rivaled the great Blackbeard and catch his attention again. He still had so much to say to Ed. He still had not even confessed his love yet. Stede took Ed’s cold hand in his and touched it to his face. He was met with some resistance, but that was expected of a corpse, right? Rigor mortis? Stede couldn’t be bothered by the trivialities. He blew warm air onto Ed’s hand and rubbed it between his. “I’ll warm you up… I’ll… I’ll…” he frantically searched the room for the purple coat he had just been holding. Where was the fucking coat! He was just holding it. Stede’s emotions went a little out of control, until he spotted the coat, on the floor, right next to the coffin.
“Captain, I heard a sound, is everything al…right?” Oluwande said, slowing down as he saw his captain crying over the corpse.
“No, I don’t think anything will ever be alright,” Stede sobbed, holding the coat, “Ed… I think he’s sick,” he whispered, “He’s sick… he’s…,” Stede choked on his words and melted back to the side of the coffin, again taking Ed’s hand in his.
“Uhh… I don’t think that is Blackbeard, Sir,” Oluwande informed.