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Pirates in general don’t have girlfriends.
Or boyfriends.
Or friends at all, come to think of it.
They are usually the rugged, “live by the sword and get swallowed up by the sea” kind of lot. All that Pirates Life for Me talk never mentioned kissing at bedtime and signing paperwork for an inn. Must have not fit the iambic pentameter of an upbeat pirate shanty.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on who was being told about it, Ed had a boyfriend. Actually has a boyfriend since he’s pretty sure that Stede hadn’t died yet. It was still early in the week and Stede mentioned something about going onto the inn roof to clean out the gutters, so he might be dead. Probably not though.
So, since the boyfriend that Ed had was probably not dead, Ed should get back to work on figuring out an anniversary present. Sooner than later since anniversary presents usually had a specific date, which was a week from today.
Ed sighed, scratching at his stubbled chin, and wondered if he could just ask Stede what he wanted, nod and pretend to know what the overly fancy item was that Stede answered, then give him the ridiculous amount of money for it.
Stede would be thrilled, Ed would get a good fuck, and somewhere in the middle of it there’d be a party. A win for everyone involved.
* * * * * * * *
A day later, and Ed’s brilliant idea had lost its luster. Didn’t it seem as though Ed should be able to figure out what his posh lover’s dearest heartwish was? Maybe that overly fussy item shouldn’t be given for this occasion. But what instead? What if…..he didn’t give him a THING. What if he DID something for Stede instead? Not in bed–they’d already DONE most of what they wanted to try, and Stede had liked most of it, as had Ed. He presumed they’d keep doing those things.
A big party, for sure–as big as he could manage without spoiling the surprise. But—wait. Ed remembered the celebration of Calypso’s Birthday. Not the lavish beginning, but later, when they had all drunk and eaten a little (or a lot) too much, and people were singing gently, dancing slowly, embracing their friends and lovers. What if–what if he could do something more that felt a little bit like that?
MUSIC! If there’s going to be singing and maybe dancing, there’ll have to be music! Ed knew he could sing a little, but he couldn’t play a note. Who to ask? No orchestras or even chamber ensembles (that’s what he THOUGHT Stede had called the mini-orchestra one time) on their island, or aboard ship. There was a small upright piano in Stede’s salon, but he didn’t know who could play it other than Stede himself, which wouldn’t make for much of a surprise, or Ed–but he didn’t know any of the right kind of songs.
Jim was Spanish–did they maybe play that gee-tar thing? Better ask! Ed didn’t usually see much point in making lists or any of that, even though provisioning was less trouble if somebody had bothered to write down either what stores they still had or what they were sure they needed. For this, though, he’d make a list.
Ed’s List
Jim–geetar?
Izzy–could he play that piano, or just sing pretty?
FOOD–better than their usual rations, better than what the inn served–talk to Zheng about SOUP, a special soup if possible. Didn’t the Italians make special soup for weddings? Maybe the Chinese did too.
Better wine for Stede, and enough rum to lay everyone out for a day or more.
* * * * * * * *
In general, Izzy never stayed in the same place for too long. It was a trait that kept him prepared just in case he needed to attack or to retreat in a hurry. There weren’t many old pirates because most pirates didn’t take this moving targets stay alive type of philosophy. This was why it took Ed the better part of the day to finally find Izzy, who was smoking something slightly foul from a pipe and giving Ed a look of understandable suspicion.
“So,” Ed said, leaning against the nearest tree as casually as a man could, ”my anniversary is coming up.“
”Yes,”’Izzy replied, before taking another puff of whatever the hell it was in that pipe. “that’s usually how anniversaries work.”
Then Izzy had the actual balls to take another inhale and exhale of smoke, filling the air with the weird smell, his expression as Izzy-ish as it could be and how did Ed already lose control of this conversation?
“Why are you starting off like that? Usually people say something cheery about hearing about celebrations.”
For a moment, Ed truly thought that Izzy was about to reconsider his previous words. Sadly, this was not the case as Ed watched Izzy put his free hand to his chest and feigned a woeful face.
“My apologies. Congratulations on finding a person that’s put up with you for nearly a year.”
”That's not much better, but I’ll cut my losses and still ask you for a favor.”
Ed even gave one of his well known grins to sprinkle on the exact right amount of charm. Unfortunately, Izzy saw right through it and that wasn’t at all very fair.
“No,” Izzy said with another stinky exhale. How the hell was he not coughing up an actual lung?
“I haven’t even told you what it is yet.”
“If you’re asking me it means that no one else either wanted to do it or was able to do it so you had no choice but to ask me. So the answer is no.”
This is what inevitably happened when the mates knew how your mind worked. That always ended up being a double-edged sword. Fine then. Izzy was a romantic at heart, despite what he’d argue otherwise. Ed just had to play into that natural inclination.
“It’s in pursuit of love.”
“Still not interested.”
“I’ll pay you.”
It was worth parting with a little money to make sure that Stede had a wonderful anniversary. Izzy gave Ed the once over from head to toe, as if making sure that Ed actually had two coins to legitimately rub together.
“What amount are you giving,” Izzy asked, “and whatever you planned on telling me I’ll expect it to be doubled.”
“How can you feel so at ease with outright thievery of your captain?”
Ed even made a point of looking scandalized. Well as scandalized as he could considering all of the circumstances in front of him.
“Ex-Captain,” Izzy corrected, “and in case you forgot, we’re pirates. Thievery is part of the package, along with the cutting off body parts and drinking like fish.”
”Those are really fun perks of the job for sure,” Ed conceded, tilting head as he reconsidered some terms. “I’ll pay 20 quid."
Izzy chuckled at that, before taking a last, long, stinky puff. “If that amount is for cutting off a Bonnet body part because I’ll go ahead and do that for a tenner.”
“It’s not for cutting off anything but I’ll remember that rate for future endeavors. Can you hear what I’m wanting before you refuse?”
Ed watched as Izzy finally tapped out whatever was left in that pipe out onto the ground. The stench was back with a vengeance.
“Since it’s for love you got ten seconds to convince me.”
Then Izzy actually folded his arms across his chest, as if he was counting down the seconds. Which was a little rude, if Ed wasn’t in a panic about the fact that he never usually had luck convincing Izzy to anything.
“Right then. No pressure at all. I’m hell with singing, but you’re not. I want to have you sing to him, with pretty words.”
”You want me to seduce him? Not my type. Too soft in the…” Izzy paused as he made a waving motion with his hands, “everywhere really.”
”Very funny. It’s more that I want you to act as my voice and my heart for a song.”
Izzy exhaled a breath, out of relief it seemed. That would need to be unpacked by Ed later to be sure.
“So you want me to sing for you so that you can seduce him later.”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
* * * * * * * *
Ed left his chat with Izzy feeling mostly confident that he’d help. Perhaps he’d check back in to see how things were going, but for now he needed to continue down his list. Wine would need to wait until he had a chat with suppliers to the inn. That would be later this evening, so to Zheng for soup ideas. In the meantime, Ed had enough to do around the inn to keep busy.
* * * * * * * *
There was still so much to do and not the time needed to do it. Ed leaned against a railing in the large banquet room, trying to light his pipe without much success, due to his hands shaking from nerves. The sound of a bang and a long string of curse words met his ears, then the familiar sound of Stede going “We need to stay quiet.”
Wee John came through the entranceway first, backing up and really attempting stealth. This was very amusing, since among other issues, Wee John wasn’t known to be light on his feet. Ed leaned to his right to get a good look at what Wee John had in his hands. It was obviously some kind of thick rolled up fabric that shimmered in purple. Stede carried the other side with a slightly steadier grip, and made a high-pitched yelping sound when he locked eyes with Ed.
“Need another set of hands?” Ed asked, and Stede yelped again.
“Thanks Captain,” Wee John said, smiling brightly before the smile melted into a confused frown at the look on Stede’s face.
“We’re fine,” Stede said. “Completely fine. Just moving some items around is all.”
Ed quirked an eyebrow, then turned his head to the large roll of fabric. Wee John’s fake smile was back in place.
“What are ya moving?”
“Curtains,” Stede said at the same time as Wee John said “Body” and the day might be an interesting one after all.
“It’s curtains in the shape of a body,” Wee John blurted out, and Stede went about three shades whiter. Ed glanced down at the rolled-up fabric again, attempting to not laugh out loud.
“Didn’t know that curtains came in anything other than curtain-shaped,” Ed said, rubbing at his chin.
“It’s become very in fashion,” Stede replied, pushing his side of the rolled up fabric to get Wee John to move again. “Show it all to you later. Got to go, then.”
And with that the two other men hurried out of the banquet room, leaving Ed alone again.
****
”And you didn’t want to figure out what they were up to?”
Lucius wrinkled his nose in clear annoyance as Ed gave a quick shrug. As if it was absolute madness that Ed shouldn’t be more curious.
“Probably my anniversary gift,” Ed chuckled, “and it’s meant to be a surprise so why spoil it?”
“Because it might also be a dead body,” Lucius replied. “Or worse. Really awful curtains.”
*****
Ed found Zheng sitting comfortably in the sunlight, her face tipped up as if she were a sunflower. “Hi”, he ventured. She did not even open her eyes.
“What?!” she asked in her normal, impatient tone.
“Erm. I, uh, wanted to talk with you a minute.”
“So talk!” Zheng had still not bothered to move or to look at Ed.
“I, uh–I wondered if you could make a special soup for a special dinner? Something like Italian, uh, wedding soup?”
This did cause Zheng to open her eyes and glare at Ed. “Italian Wedding Soup? What for? Who’s getting married?”
Ed began to get that wild look in his eye. “Uh, uh, not getting married. Far’s I’m concerned, we are married, but the year anniversary of us getting to be us is next week. So a special dinner seems like it’d be called for. Also, Calypso’s Birthday, so a double-special dinner.” He shifted nervously.
“Huh. Do you know what goes INTO your wedding soup?”
Ed blushed a little, though it was hard to see with his re-growing beard. “No. Just heard somebody talking about it once.”
Zheng snorted. “So. Want me to try and make a completely unknown soup, or will you take what I can give you?”
Ed offered a sheepish grin. “I’ll take what you can give me. And thank you.”
Zheng sighed. “All right. One cauldron of chicken soup with lemongrass and mushrooms, assuming I can get any of those, ready for drinking. In exchange for one case of that good, sweet wine you got last year.”
Ed blinked. “Uh. Gonna have to ask Wee John if we have any left. If not, what else will you take?”
Zheng scowled at him. “Sweet wine. One case. That’s my price!”
Ed sighed heavily. “All right. Done. Er, thanks, Zheng.”
* * * * * * * *
Frenchy was peeling potatoes companionably with Pete, and Wee John was knitting in a convenient corner, chatting away. Ed poked his head in. “Hi, guys!”
“Hey, Ed!” came the answer in a ragged chorus.
“Um. Wee John? Do we have any of that sweet wine left? Zheng will make the soup, but it’s gonna cost.”
“I can go look,” John obligingly answered.
“Thanks!” Ed was trying to remember to speak more kindly, because Stede liked it that way.
“Frenchy, can we do a hog roast? I know we got a few extra piglets still running around the pen. Something big enough for everybody. Next week.”
Frenchy stopped peeling potatoes for a moment, though Pete just kept on wielding his little knife. “Hog roast? What for? Calypso’s Birthday, or just because?”
Ed was now going redder. “For Stede's and my anniversary. And Calypso’s Birthday, we can share!”
All three men blinked at him. “Anniversary? For reals?”
Ed now resembled a blotchy, beard-wearing, tomato. “YES, for reals! Why would I try for a joke?”
Frenchy, Wee John, Pete, and a late-come Lucius all exchanged more looks, then levelled a gaze back at Ed. “Uh, Cap’n," said Frenchy, “we’ve seen you take a guy’s eye out, just for a joke. You did leave him the other eye, though.”
At this point, Ed decided to quit while he was behind. “Thanks, Frenchy! And all the rest that’d go with a hog roast, right? Some o’ that sweet maize stuff, even, if it’s the right time of year. Zheng is making a special soup, so no worries. Wee John? Can you check on that wine today?”
***
Izzy stared at the paper, his brow furrowed, mouthing along to the words. This was not the best start at all.
“You don’t like the song,” Ed grunted. “It took me half last night writing it.”
“Why did you think that fart would be good to put in a love song?”
“Because it rhymes with heart,” Ed reasoned, pointing a finger at the previous line.
“And farting is so romantic,” Izzy said, rolling his eyes. “Passing gas always gets me hot and bothered. Let me put you out of your misery and write the lyrics myself.”
* * * * * * * *
Ed was pacing and muttering, apparently to himself. In and out of the salon, around through the galley, below decks, above decks–muttering more loudly as he wandered, then dropping his voice again when he realized there were five other people in the same room. As he passed, each of the crew members eyed him warily, but no one had the nerve to test his temper. Stede caught up to him around the tenth circuit. “Edward, my dearest, what are you worrying so hard about?”
Ed jumped half out of his sea boots. “I ain’t worried!”
Stede frowned gently at him. “Then–did you eat too much meat last night again? Are your guts bound up, Edward, darling??”
Ed went red. “My guts are just fine!” he quasi-snarled. “I c’n prove it to you if I need to!”
Stede slid one arm around Ed’s waist. “You needn’t prove anything to me. I just needed to know whether I had to boil up some slippery elm or go beg herbs from Zheng’s TaiTai.”
Ed turned his head away, not catching Stede’s eyes. “‘M fine!” Though his arm, as if belying his truculence, slid around Stede’s shoulders. “You busy?” He dropped his arm and pinched Stede’s satin-clad backside.
“Oh, well. If that’s what you’re in the mood for, we can do that!” Stede giggled as they disappeared into their own quarters, and nothing was heard from there for the next hour except the fluttering of curtains.
* * * * * ** * * *
‘Round about suppertime, Ed caught up with Jim. “Hey Jim!” he called. “Can I have a word?”
Jim looked up. “What the hell, have ten. What can I do for you, Cap’n?”
“Um.” Ed plopped down next to Jim. “Don’t suppose you can play that thing, curved box with strings–a guitar?”
Jim thought hard a moment. “Wait. You don’t mean my guitar, do you??”
“Guitar. Yeah, that’s it. Git-tar. You play?”
“Yeah, I do. Why?”
Ed gulped, and cleared his throat a couple of times. “I, uh, was wondering if you’d play so’s Izzy can sing. A special song, for Stede.”
Jim blinked at him, the edge of one lip lifting, then they laughed out loud. “Good one, Cap’n! I was believing you for a minute!”
Ed cleared his throat again. “Not joking. Special dinner next week for everyone. Stede's and my anny-ver-sary. And a special song to go with–Izzy’ll sing along with Archie, maybe you too if you wanna. But we need music.”
Jim still looked a bit surprised, but amiably agreed. “Yeah, sure. Want me to talk with Archie and Izzy, find out what we’re singing?”
Ed nearly collapsed with relief. “YES!! Please! Thanks, Jim!”
“Sure thing, Cap’n. You just had to ask.”
* * * * * * * * * *
Eventually, Jim caught up with Archie, and then they both found Izzy. “Hey, Iz. Cap’n said we were gonna make music next week?”
Izzy grimaced. “Yeah. He’s gone and fallen in LUH-HUV, or some damn’-fool thing.”
Jim rolled their eyes, and shrugged one shoulder. “I just hope I never do, that’s all. Seems to make people crazed.”
Izzy grinned. “Yeah, seems like that. Anyway. You got yer guitar. Archie, you singing with us?”
Archie gave him a sleepy smile. “Sure, you want. What’r we singing??”
Izzy rolled his eyes this time. “Ed wants something all soft and lovey, I guess. I almost got it written. Here.” He handed over the heavily creased piece of paper he’s been scrawling on with a pencil.
Archie looked it over, then handed it to Jim. “Whaddya think??”
Jim read it. “Enh–sounds okay. What tune?”
Izzy began crooning, just music, no words. Jim started picking out the tune on the guitar. Archie’s sweet tones harmonising after the first rep. The impromptu musical group broke up after something less than an hour, but they did sound pretty good by then.
* * * * * * * * *
Wee John came up to Ed. “Uh, Cap’n? We only got a little over half a case o’ that sweet wine you were talking about. Can we use somethin’ else?”
Ed was beginning to look more than a bit wild-eyed by this time. “No case of sweet wine? Damn!!!!! All right, talk to Zheng about a supply run. Do NOT tell her we don’t have a full case–just go ‘n get more, plus whatever weird stuff she needs for the soup. Chicken and–lemons, was it???”
Wee John looked a bit nervous. “Aye, Cap’n. Sweet wine. Chicken. Lemons. Whatever else Zheng needs. Uh–guess I should check with Frenchy, see if he needs more stuff. Honey for the hog roast, mebbe?”
Ed snorted. Loudly. “Yeah, sounds good. Make the run today if you can.”
Wee John nodded obediently, and went to confront the two women–no, no, he went to DISCUSS supplies with them.
* * * * * * * * * * *
“Good afternoon, ladies. I trust you are both well today??” Wee John seemed to have retained some idea of landlubber courtesies, misplaced as they frequently were aboard ship.
Zheng looked at him coolly. “Well enough, thanks. What can we do for Wee John today? Soup? More yarn?”
“Oh. Uh. Yes, I dunno if I have enough for all the little hats I was making, but I guess we will see. No, Lady Zheng, I need to make a run for supplies, and the Cap’n said you needed some things for a special soup? Also, wanted to see if your TaiTai* can go with, so she can talky-talk for what I don’t know to ask for.”
Zheng and TaiTai looked at each other, then Zheng began spitting out words in a language that poor Wee John had no hope of identifying, much less understanding. TaiTai scratched a few symbols onto a scrap of leather and tucked it in her pocket, then stood up, ready to accompany, or lead, Wee John to the market ashore.
[*TaiTai = Elder Aunty]
* * * * * * * * * *
Wee John and TaiTai between them made short work of the rowing to shore, then carefully put the dinghy under some flotsam and driftwood so as to not make it OBVIOUS, then headed straight for the market. Wee John found the wine-seller, and ordered another case of the sweet wine for trade, and two cases of vin extremely ordinaire, plus rum for grog. TaiTai was busily sorting through weird-looking–vegetables? Yes, John thought they were vegetables, but nothing he’d think looked appetizing. Having drunk many gallons of TaiTai’s soup before, however, he was fully prepared to take it on faith that the end result would be tasty as well as edible.
* * * * * * * * * * *
After a short time, Wee John settled for just following TaiTai, carrying the increasingly-heavy basket. Plus a string of river fish over his shoulder, and an extra bag of weird-looking citrus in his other hand. Finally, his back was hurting so much that he just had to say something. “Ehm, TaiTai? Can I have a minute to sit down?”
TaiTai gave him A Look.
He sighed, deeply. “Listen. I got caught by the boom once, and since then I can’t work the way I used to. I been carryin’ this stuff, and glad t’do it, but really startin’ to wear out, an’ I gotta carry th’ wine, too, back to the dinghy. Lemme sit a few breaths, and then I’ll folla ya some more.”
TaiTai huffed loudly, making it only too plain what she thought of THAT, but she moved out of the path of foot traffic and found a felled log to sit on. Wee John gratefully subsided onto the other end. For a few moments, they just breathed, Wee John’s lungs gradually making less noise. He looked over at TaiTai. “Thankee. ‘Preciate it.”
TaiTai eyed him. “Big strong man. Shame not to be able to use it. You want me to help fix your back?”
Wee John froze, even forgetting to breathe. “Can you DO that???”
TaiTai nodded. “Maybe only, but if not, you’re no worse off than now. I won’t make you worse. Let me look to see, back on the ship.”
Wee John nodded. After another moment or two, he stood and picked up the burdens again. TaiTai snorted and grabbed the net bag of citrus, then marched off.
* * * * * * * * * *
Upon their eventual return to the ship, Wee John finished the fetch-and-carry, and made sure that Zheng knew he had brought the sweet wine so he could turn it over soonest and stop being responsible for it. After that bit of business, he heaved a great sigh, and had a seat on the upper deck. There was still sunlight, but the sun was low on the horizon. Abruptly, TaiTai sat down just behind him, and unceremoniously began pressing fingers into his back, starting at the lower neck, then shoulders, then down the spine. Wee John knew better than to object, so he held very still. TaiTai let go, and snapped, “Shirt off.” He obediently did so, and she began doing an odd finger-dance–she touched here, pressed there, stopped to look closely at a part of the back after drawing a single finger down it, then stopped. Not being able to see her, he could not tell what she was doing when she wasn’t speaking or touching him, but he waited. Then he felt a peculiar–was it stickiness? A very slight pain, hardly worth noticing? Yes, both of those things, a bit. This continued for a little while. Then TaiTai gave a great sigh, and sat back on her heels. “Sit there. Stay five minutes.”
Wee John was not in any great hurry to move, so this was not a difficult order to obey. Presently, he began to feel little tiny pokes of something, everywhere the stickiness had been. Finally, TaiTai got up. “You come tomorrow this time; I will do some more.” And without further preamble, she walked off, tucking a small wooden box into one of her many pockets.
* * * * * * * *
Two days later, it was all hands on deck for the beginning of The Soup. Wee John had not hidden well or fast enough, and was now scrubbing and opening and chopping and slicing and pouring hot water over VERY strange-looking things, as instructed. Some of the things smelt almost as bad as they looked, but he knew what he didn’t know, and this was firmly outside of his wheelhouse. Then fresher vegetables appeared, and he was told just how to slice those–as if he hadn’t peeled onions since he was a younker! Then she told him to just stand there and STIR those onions, in lots of oil! Once his arm was about to fall off and the onions had turned a deep gold, she said he could stop, and go get her two buckets of fresh water. Those went into the cauldron TaiTai had been working on, after one bucket of whatever-it-was had been taken out and poured into the onions. “Move that aside and bring me the clams.” The clams were duly brought, and tossed into her cauldron. “Move this one to the edge too. Then we are done until sunset.”
Wee John wondered whether it would do any good at all to say that he had no intention of returning at sunset, but decided not. In any case, she had to do his treatment before sunset, so he supposed he might as well just turn up.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
TaiTai had insisted Wee John sit down once a day since the first treatment, and let her do it again. It did seem to be helping a little bit–he hadn’t been able to move and stretch in quite awhile the way he was doing now. It still felt odd–what was that sticky, itchy feeling?--but as long as it helped and didn’t cause much blood loss, he’d keep sitting down for her. Today, though, he actually SAW what was in the little box she carried in her pocket. “Hey! What’s with the needles?!?”
TaiTai looked at him. “You want your back fixed, or not?!?”
Wee John sighed, heavily. “You bin sticking those things in me all week! How is poking me fulla holes going to help my back?”
TaiTai rolled her eyes. “Is it better than the day we went to market?”
“Um….yeah. But needles?!?”
TaiTai gave him a tiny grin. “Ancient Chinese secret is good for you!”
Wee John rolled his eyes right back. “Ancient Chinese secret, my arse! Yer just havin’ fun with me now!”
TaiTai shrugged. “You don’t want me to treat you, I don’t have to. The longer your back works, the longer you can stay with the ship, though.”
Wee John inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “All right. You’re the doctor.” TaiTai began on the treatment, keeping her tiny box out of Wee John’s line of sight, and smirking every time he flinched, now that he knew what the feeling was, even if it didn’t really hurt.
Presently, TaiTai told him, “Done for today. No lifting anything more than a sack of potatoes tomorrow, though. I dont care who says they need it.”
* * * * * * *
PARTY TIME
Wee John remembered what TaiTai had told him, so when he was ordered to move the cauldron of The Soup, he grabbed two others and made them hold the other end of the pole while they lifted the cauldron. They grumbled, but did as they were told, and the giant cauldron was successfully moved. “Dunno why they couldn’t have done this BEFORE they made the soup and it was heavy, but, meh.” They set the cauldron back down, and stretched their hands.
Wee John hunted around for a drink. Jim appeared to have a bottle in their hand, so he moved towards Jim and the bottle. “Can I have a drink?”
Jim eyed him. “Sure.” They held out the bottle, ready to pour into Wee John’s enamelled mug. He held it out and Jim poured it half-full.
“Thanks!” he told them. Jim smiled, and headed toward the other musicians, bottle in one hand and a couple of mugs in the other.
TaiTai inhaled deeply and called out, “SOUP’S ON!!!!” Immediately, people came out of every possible hatch and door. Half of them grabbed bowls from the stack of wooden bowls and passed them back to others, then grabbed their own. Soup was ladled out and likewise passed along, while Frenchy stood over his galley fire and hollered for some to come and carry out the meats. The way that they scrambled, it was almost like they hadn’t eaten in days, but with all the cheers it must have been the best meal the crew had.
Once everyone had eaten what would have been a meal for normal men on land, but was about half the requirement for sailors at sea, they’d slowed down enough to start talking between bites. Lucius had actually set his bowl aside and was busily sketching his shipmates. TaiTai sat down next to Wee John with an unladylike grunt. He turned and looked at her, and she nodded briskly at him. “We don’t do needles today.” A look of gratitude spread over his face, and he offered her the best bit of crackling off his hunk of roast pork. She took it and crunched happily–and loudly, not that anyone was likely to care.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
After everyone had inhaled a few drinks, along with a bowl or two of The Soup, plus actual fresh-baked bread and a hunk of roasted wild turkey, not to mention roast piglet and cracklings, Ed caught Izzy’s and Jim’s eyes. He made a motion towards his throat, indicating it was time to sing, but apparently neither one was paying close enough attention. Doggone it, anyway! Didn’t they know a cue when they saw one? Apparently not.
Ed plunked his own mug down, smiled at Stede, and stepped towards Izzy. “You ready?” he asked.
“Ready for what, Cap’n?”
“Ready to sing! Whaddya think?!?”
Izzy looked down at his hunk of roasted turkey, tore another strip off and swallowed it, then slugged back half of his drink. He cleared his throat–ahem!--and sang out a note or two. “Mi, mi mi mi!! Laaaaa!” Ed glared.
Izzy caught Jim’s eye, then Archie’s. “Time.” Jim got their guitar, and Archie finished her drink. Izzy waited until they were both ready, then inhaled. “Aw right, you louts! Hush up a minute! Gonna be a concert!” Everyone else looked at him in surprise, but obediently settled down to listen.
“It ain’t all grog ‘n gunpowder,
Or blood ‘n bones ‘n gold,
But bein’ a pirate brings wealth or death,
The prizes of the bold.
Red roses for the inland folk,
But salted seaweed for me.
Those lubbers, they’ll never know,
The joys of the open sea.
‘N after all the fightin’s done,
And some of us are gone,
Raise a glass to them that’s passed,
And greet the new day’s dawn.
Gold and silk are prizes dear,
And blood for blood pays all,
But greater than revenge or gilt,
Is you, within my call.”
Izzy’s voice, far more gentle than anyone was accustomed to hear it, died away with the last of the song, Archie’s harmonising, and Jim’s guitar finally stopped also. Izzy looked at Ed. Ed wasn’t looking at Izzy at all, but at Stede. Stede’s eyes were full of tears, and he was looking back at Ed. Ed nervously blinked at Stede, hoping those were good tears. Stede leaned over and planted a big kiss on Ed and his beard. That was enough to make Ed’s eyes think about tearing up a little bit. He slid his arm around Stede’s waist, and smooched him back, quick-like. It was a little mushy, but what the hell did that matter when you were in love?
“Want to go to your cabin?” Ed asked. Not quite sure what Stede might expect, but it was worth a try.
“Cabin? Oh, er–wait!” Stede leaped up, extracting himself from Ed’s arm, and disappeared. In a moment, he was back, holding something wrapped in plain muslin. Stede was tripping over his own feet again, as was the case any time he grew nervous. “This is for you. Happy anniversary!” Stede plunked the bundle into Ed’s lap.
Ed looked at him, keeping one hand on the bundle. “Um. Thanks, Stede!” He began to unwrap the package, trying hard not to drop it. As the muslin peeled back, he began to see some amazing colours! Green, blue, something in-between, a little purple, a little red–astounding! Finally, he had the whole thing unwrapped, and could see that it was a silken dressing gown. “Did you have this made specially? There’s nothing like it on this island!”
Stede flushed a bright red. “Yes, um, yes, I did. Had to order the silk first; I hope you like it!”
Ed looked at this amazing, perfect, brilliantly coloured robe, then at his amazing, perfect lover. “I do, Stede; oh, I really do!! Was that what was in that rug you were carrying with Wee John?”
Stede at once ducked his head and blushed even more red.
“It was, yes,” Stede said. “Trying not to spoil the surprise.”
“You didn’t,” Ed assured. “I hope you liked the singing?”
Stede gave him a gentle smile. “I did! The whole group and everything! Did you write the song?”
Ed looked away. “You know I didn’t. I’m no good at it. Izzy did it for us as a favour, and then sang with Jim and Archie, ‘cause I can’t do that either.”
Stede put his arms around Ed. “I loved it. SO beautiful! I can’t believe you thought of it!”
Ed slid his arm back around Stede’s waist, and with gentle pressure, persuaded Stede to go into his cabin. Ed scooped up the unopened wine bottle, pushed the door shut with one foot, and the sound of the bolt going across rang out. The rest of the attendees grinned, snorted, or poured themselves another drink, according to their inclinations.
As for the two pirates turned innkeepers, they enjoyed their anniversary, knowing that it would be the first of many.