Chapter Text
His eyes squeezed shut, the man backed into the room. “Pardon, I’m so sorry I couldn’t knock because my hands were full so-”
“I’m decent.”
Stede opened his eyes, sighing in relief.
“I didn’t want you to think I was being uncourteous, that’s the last impression I would want to put off. I pride myself as a gentleman and intend to maintain that image,” he blabbered.
He set the firewood next to the stove.
“I do hope the clothes fit decently, I believe myself to be a bit stouter than yourself but-”
The bearded stranger lifted a hand to silence him. “They’re fine.”
“Oh! My manners escape me. I failed to introduce myself. My name is Stede,” the gentleman extended a hand.
The bearded man stared down at the hand for a moment before speaking. “Name’s Edward. Call me Ed.”
“A pleasure to meet you Ed! Feel free to make yourself comfortable.”
Stede gestured to the corner, and Ed sat on the edge of Stede’s cot.
Stede’s eyes darted to the empty chair, his mouth opening and closing silently. He nodded, and clapped his hands together in front of him.
“I’ll make tea.”
Stede bustled to the stove, added a few logs, and placed a small kettle atop it. After gathering two cups, he pulled an extra blanket from under his cot, and offered it to Edward.
“Aren’t there meant to be two of you?” Ed asked.
Stede nodded again, and sat in his reading chair. “I’m in between wickies at the moment. They promised a new one a week ago, but he never turned up. I’ve been managing,” he explained.
Ed nodded slowly. “It is hard to find good help.” He felt a bubble of anger rising in his chest, and he willed it away. Not here. Not yet. He gripped the blankets on the bed.
“So uh, are you a sailor? FIsherman? I’ve never found someone on my beach before so I’m honestly at a loss as to what to do at the moment,” Stede questioned, trying to address his awkwardness.
“Yeah, uh, a sailor. I’d rather not get into it right now. Whole night is kind of fresh if you catch my drift,” Ed said, grasping his hands in his lap.
“Oh, yes.”
They sat in awkward silence for a moment.
“The clothes are very nice,” Ed finally said, running a hand along the breeches he wore.
“Yes, they’re silk. They’re my fancy pants.”
Ed chuckled, “So you’re a fancy pants then?” he questioned from under a raised brow.
Stede met his gaze for a moment before laughing himself. This broke the tension, the two men devolved into a series of light chuckles for a moment.
“I do suppose I am a bit of a fancy pants. Found it heard to be without,” Stede agreed, eyes warm.
Ed slouched into the cushions piled behind him.
“Its a strange collection of things for a lighthouse keeper,” Ed observed, gesturing towards the bookcase.
“Yes, well, I wasn’t always a lighthouse keeper,” Stede said, leaning back into his chair.
“I mean I’ve heard they just throw nutters in these places, you’d have to be a bit off to just spend all your time out here alone…” Ed said, half joking.
“Oh lots of people don’t know much about lighthouse keepers mate. Normally there’s someone else around, we see the supply man twice a week in the good weather, and if someone chose they could move their family with them. It's the purpose of this building, otherwise we’d sleep in the base of the tower,” Stede answered.
“Granted I did come out here to get away from things. It’s not the worst having time to read, watch the world around you. Anywho, there’s always plenty to do and learn,” He elaborated.
Ed leaned in. “What sort of stuff do you do around here anyway? Seems like lighting some lights isn’t a full time job. Be foolish to pay some bloke for an hours worth of work each day.”
Stede chuckled, “Well there’s the lights, hauling the fuel, chopping wood, doing basic repairs, reading the weather and watching for ships signaling for help on the horizon. Being a lighthouse keeper is being a bit of a sailor, handyman, and frontiersman all at once.”
Ed leans further, resting his elbows on his knees, hands folded neatly in front of his face.”Tell me more.”
Stede spoke on about his life on the island. What types of supplies he got, how many years he’d been working there, mishaps and blunders. Edward‘s eyes remained bright and focused, rarely leaving the face of his host.
Ed eventually swung his legs onto the bed, lay back, and stared at the ceiling. His head nodded as Stede spoke on, though the movement lost direction, and his head soon lolled to the side, mouth parting slightly, and a soft snoring echoing from his chest.
Stede sighed, and whispered, “I think I should be going to bed. It's incredibly late and I have to meet the supply boat tomorrow morning.”
He pushed himself upright, not expecting the wave of nausea and vertigo that overtook him. He steadied himself against the chair, and slowly made his way to the wash basin. He poured the dirty water into the nearby bedpan, rinsed and refilled it with water from the bucket he’d carried in.
The water was still cold, cooler than Stede would have wished for a night like tonight.
He sat on the ground, and exhaled deeply. His head swam.
He pressed lightly where he’d made contact with the stone step earlier. Still tender, but seemed to have dried. He peeled the hat off of his head, and set the bloodied cap into the basin of used bath water.
He carefully rinsed his hair, picking bits of hardened blood from his curls. The water in the basin took on a brownish red color that made Stede feel queasy if he looked at it too long.
He lightly dried his hair with an older towel, already torn and discolored, and wrapped a rough bandage on his head. He slipped into his pajamas, keeping an eye on his guest to make sure he didn’t make up to see him dressing.
He topped his head with a sleeping cap before making the secondary cot and sliding under the blankets. The cot was not as well broken in as his. The stuffing was uneven, and blankets oddly stiff, but after staring at the nail-studded candle burning in the sconce for a time, he found himself succumb to the exhaustion he’d held hostage in his body.