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“Alright everybody!” Stede said, addressing the crew. “I know things look bad, but actually I think they’re really turning around for us.”
The crew cast their eyes around the deck in doubt. The state of the ship was a testament to how bad things looked. Between the torn sails, the cracked mast, and the stolen wheel, it was a miracle they were still sailing. Frenchie suspected buttons had something to do with it but didn’t voice this for fear it may spark his ire.
“Well, I admit The Revenge is a little worse for wear, but it’s nothing we can’t fix if we all pull together and do a bit of work,” Stede said chipperly as if he had any clue just how much work it would take to get her even close to sea worthy again. Or had any intention of doing some of that work himself.
To be fair, eight months ago, Frenchie wouldn’t have had any idea either. He also wouldn’t have cared if it got done. Now though, he actually knew what it takes to sail a ship. He also knew what it was to struggle at sea. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to laze around carelessly anymore. He had cares now.
Frenchie tuned back into Stede’s speech when he heard his name. “Er… sorry what were saying?”
“I was just saying that you’ll be first mate.”
“Me?” Frenchie asked.
“Well, yes. I hear that you were appointed as first mate, and I rather think it’s an ideal arrangement, at least for now. You have been a member of both crews. Everyone knows you. I think its an excellent idea,” said Stede.
Frenchie did not think it was a very good idea. “Yeah well, the thing is, mate, I didn’t actually do much first mating. Mostly I just lied about killing Izzy and then the Blackbeard sailed us into a storm so… Might not actually be the most qualified--”
“Nonsense,” Stede said brightly, “You’ll be great. Now, if you will all excuse me, I’m going to go check on Ed.”
With that, Stede strutted away, leaving Frenchie alone with the rest of the crew. To his horror, they were looking at him expectantly. He didn’t really know where to start and instead just stood there, staring at them.
Eventually Fang took pity on him and said, “We can start working on the rigging if you want, Frenchie. While you think up a plan.”
“Yes,” Frenchie said, gratefully, “You guys get started on that and I’m just going to go.” He gestured vaguely below the deck.
Before anyone could stop him, Frenchie made his way off the deck and towards the first mate’s cabin. He didn’t take a proper breath until he was in the cabin with his back against the closed door.
“What’s with you?” A raspy voice asked from the bed. Shit, Izzy looked terrible. Whatever adrenaline that had been keeping Izzy Hands going after that storm seemed to have left him. When they received word that Blackbeard was still alive, he had taken the news wordlessly and retreated to this cabin.
“Bonnet just named me first mate,” Frenchie confessed.
“Thank God.”
“Um, sorry?” Frenchie replied, confused.
“Do it quick this time for fuck’s sakes. My leg is fucked, and I’d rather not live another day while you waffle,” Izzy grumbled.
Frenchie scoffed, “I’m not killing you mate.”
“Coward.”
“No fuck you, mate. I’m not killing you. Besides, I’m pretty sure Bonnet doesn’t actually expect me to kill you. Or for anyone to kill you… I think. To be honest, I’m kind of surprised you aren’t mad. I thought you’d be, you know, jealous, or something.”
Izzy barked a gruff laugh, “I would rather – and I do mean this – have Jim cut off my other leg with a fuckin’ butter knife than be first mate for either one of those fuckin' twats again.”
Frenchie sat on the bed and put his head in his hands. “I have no idea what I’m doing. Wouldn’t even know if this ship was running proper like. Which, obviously, it isn’t.”
“The ship is fucked.”
“Yes, thank you, Izzy, I figured that much out.”
Izzy touched a hand to his thigh and Frenchie lifted his head to meet his gaze. “No, I mean the ship is fucked. There isn’t a lot you can do for her out in the middle of the ocean. The way I see it, you’ve got two options. You can do everything you can to keep her floating while you head for the nearest port, so that we can get some proper fucking repairs done. Of course, that’s somewhat complicated by the fact we’re being chased by a terrifyingly competent pirate queen. And by the fact that we lost most of the loot in that storm.”
Frenchie groaned in despair. “There’s no way we’re going to pull that off. What’s the second option?”
A slow smile slid across Izzy’s face. “You steal one.”
“A ship?” Frenchie asked incredulously, “You want us to steal a ship?”
Izzy scoffed. “We’re fuckin’ pirates, man. Where do you think pirates get their ships? They certainly don’t have them custom made with fuckin’ cherry wood and secret closets.”
“Well yeah I get that, but in case you haven’t noticed, most of our crew is dead and I somehow doubt that the other guys have picked up any actual pirating skills in the meantime. How are we meant to steal an entire ship?” Frenchie lamented.
Izzy was looking at him funny.
“What?” Frenchie asked.
“Nothin’,” Izzy replied, “Just that you said, ‘our crew’. Thought you’d lump yourself in with Bonnet’s lot is all.”
Frenchie shrugged, feeling self conscious suddenly. “I guess we’ve all been through a lot together. That time before feels like a bit of a dream if I’m honest.”
Izzy nodded in understanding and, mercifully, changed the subject. “We’ve been tearing a path through the Caribbean for months now. Every ship out there will already have heard of our rampage. You hoist that flag and make a bunch of noise and I doubt they’ll put up much of a fight.”
It made sense, actually. By the end of Blackbeard’s reign of terror, most of the ships had surrendered immediately. Of course, Blackbeard had forced the crew to slaughter those guys anyway, but that was a thought best left in the mind box.
“Do you think Bonnet will go for it?” Frenchie asked.
“In my experience, captains want to do as little thinking as necessary. Present them with a viable solution and a plan ready, and they will be more than happy to take credit for it.” Though the words were bitter, Izzy’s tone wasn’t. Mostly he just sounded tired.
“How’re you doing, Izzy?” Frenchie asked, unconsciously echoing Fangs words from before.
Izzy shook his head. “Don’t. I’m alive, even though I’d rather not be. That’s enough.”
It really wasn’t but Frenchie knew there wasn’t a lot he could do about it. At least not now. “I’m going to go get that plan going. I’ll be back later to check on you, yeah?”
Izzy grit his teeth and then begrudgingly agreed. “Yeah.”