Soldier, Poet, King

Chapter 8: Wicked Game

The way Wee John had explained it was that at some point in the night, while Buttons had been bathing in the glow of the waxing moon, the Revenge had crossed paths with a lone sailor drifting along with the ocean current. Buttons, being in a state of undress as per the Moon Glow Ritual requires, had little room to argue when the stranger asked if Blackbeard was onboard as well, and eventually found the rope ladder and climbed aboard. According to Wee John the man calls himself Calico Jack and is an old shipmate of Blackbeard's, though this information does little to sweeten your first impression of the inebriated man as he reminds you all too much of your father's friends, drunk and unbothered how his actions will affect those around him.

"Relax, he's just havin' a bit of fun," Wee John hums, his eyes focused on his knitting, a rain of purple and red falling in his lap, "He won't stay long, then it'll be life as usual again. Quiet n'boring, just the way you like it. Don't let 'im get in yer head, kiddo."

"It's not like I like boring... I just find it preferable to whatever they're doing."

You sit on the deck by his feet, loosely hugging your knees, and trying not to flinch at the rumble of Stede's cannons firing every few minutes. Every once in a while, usually when Blackbeard had aimed the cannon rather than Calico Jack, it would actually strike the target and send a shower of wooden splinters down in its wake. Your face screws up into a scowl, silently seething in extreme disliking and hoping to yourself that one of the bits of shrapnel would hit Calico Jack square in the throat so you wouldn't have to listen to his drunken whoops and hollering.

"Just look at him," You sneer, watching as the man stumbles over his own feet and spilling rum down his chest like a toddler spilling juice, "He's disgusting."

"I can't say I'm in love with the man, either, but Blackbeard seems to trust him so I don't see no harm in lettin' him stay aboard for a few days until he-"

"Days?"

"-Until he gets back on his feet. You don't hafta be happy about it but you do hafta respect our Captains' wishes."

"I know..."

"I'm sorry, kiddo." You feel Wee John's hand on the top of your head, his fingers patting gently a few times before going back to his knitting.

He is right, of course. Your own disliking of a person has nothing to do with whether or not they are worthy of respite, but that doesn't make the situation any less irksome. There is a small consolation in sharing opinions about this newcomer with Stede, who looks at the man with the same sort of distaste one gives an unruly child with no parental supervision. The sound of another cannon fire shatters the calm once more followed by a delayed splash, the wooden drawer left intake and floating miserably in the sea below, water slowly seeping into the bottom before it inevitably sinks to the seafloor.

"Wait, mine, mine, mine!-" The Swede cries out, the thunder of footsteps stampeding down the stairs and to the deck alerting your attention. Frenchie is not too far behind him, skipping steps in an attempt to catch up. Wee John's foot kicks out beside you, tripping The Swede so badly that the poor man loses his footing and skids out onto his stomach in a miserable heap of limbs.

"That grants us roommate status." Wee John shouts after Frenchie, putting down his knitting and patting your head, as you both watch the man scrambling across deck.

"What was that about?"

"With Jim out, Olu's gone and moved out of that big room, which means-"

"No more sleeping outside?"

"No more sleeping outside, kiddo. Go on and get yer stuff before Roach beats us to it."

"That's not very fair, is it?" Lucius sneers across from you, his legs draped over Black Pete's lap, "Maybe someone else would have wanted to have the room."