"The back room is a bit far from where he is. We'll need to act fast while our crewmates are doing their part."
Anne and one of the crewmates nodded, but the other leaned in further. "Captain, I know we wus supposed to wait a bit before startin' the ruckus, but I think Ca— I think our man is close to finishing his meal."
Edward's eyes widened slightly, and he glanced over to where Calico Jack was sitting. From what he could tell, the men at the table looked relaxed and took small bites of their food and infrequent drinks of ale.
"It's time," he said.
Edward rose from the table and locked gazes with one of his crewmates in another part of the tavern. The crewmate scratched his nose, showing he understood what to do next.
Edward casually walked towards the back corner where Calico Jack waited, followed closely by Anne and the two crewmates they were with. As they moved, the crewmate whom Edward had given the signal started an argument with another mate.
The other patrons hooted and hollered, cheering on the arguments and adding to the insults tossed at each other and tossing actual objects at them as well. The air in the tavern was changing swiftly as the excitement of a brewing fight riled everyone else up.
According to plan, when Edward and the others were a few feet from Calico Jack, the shouts and taunts changed to fists. Most of the patrons were all paying attention to the fight now, and none were looking at Edward and the others.
To ensure nothing went wrong, a few other crewmates started fights with other patrons in the bar, and in a matter of seconds, the entire right side of the tavern had turned into a riot.
Edward, Anne, and their companions took advantage of the commotion, pulled pistols from their coats, and pointed them at the back of Calico Jack and his mates.
"Calico Jack, I presume you wouldn't enjoy a bullet to the back, so don't move," Edward commanded.
For a moment, there was complete silence from the man in front of Edward. He glanced over to the other mates on the other end of the table, the ones whose faces he could see, and noticed that they looked wholly and utterly calm. They appeared as though they didn't care in the slightest that they had pistols trained on them, and the looks unnerved Edward even more than he had been, despite the drink hitting him at that moment.
"So, you're finally here, son," Calico Jack, the man in front of Edward, said over the commotion on the other side of the tavern.
Even above the commotion, Edward knew the voice was a familiar one. He couldn't place it, but Calico Jack raised his hands, rose from his seat, and turned around, and then he knew why the voice was familiar.
"Dad?" Edward said, his mouth going slack as he stepped back in shock.
"Ed?" Anne called.
Before Edward could recover, his father slapped the pistol away and punched Edward in the gut. Edward doubled over in pain but was pulled up by his hair and put in a chokehold.
"You disappoint me, Edward," his father whispered in his ear.
Edward felt a sharp pain shoot into his lower back and travel all through his body, and then there was a sudden empty feeling. He felt warm blood gushing out of the wound.
"Let him go!" Anne shouted, firing her pistol at Calico Jack.
Jack ducked out of the way, but Anne's shot was wide and more a warning. "I think not, little queen," he replied. He pulled a small hunting horn that appeared to be made of tarnished gold from his pocket and blew into it.
The tone from the horn was piercing and like no other sound Edward had ever heard. It shook his whole body with the noise it made, and after it went away, there was silence. Silence, not because Edward temporarily went deaf, but because the patrons in the tavern stopped fighting.
Edward couldn't move his head, but looking over, he could see all eyes on them. The men and women who had not a moment before been beating each other to a pulp were now staring at Calico Jack in a sort of religious reverence. Edward's crew had stopped as well, though from confusion rather than whatever the sound of the horn had wrought.
"By the sound of the Golden Horn!" one of the men in the crowd shouted.
"By the sound of the Golden Horn!" another continued the chant.
Edward hadn't heard the chant himself but had been informed by Anne about its significance to Benjamin Hornigold, Calico Jack's former alias. His father's former alias. It was a battle cry used by those pirates in league with Hornigold in a failed war years ago.
Soon most of the patrons were shouting the same battle cry as they descended upon Edward and his crew. After each chant, they took a step forward in unison, as though under a trance.
"By the sound of the Golden Horn!"
"By the sound of the Golden Horn!"
"By the sound of the Golden Horn!"
Anne's eyes were wide with terror at the sight of all those men and women walking as one towards them. She reloaded her pistol, but didn't know where to point it, whether at the man who had sounded the call, or the crowd that had answered it.
Edward's father pushed him away, and he fell into Anne's arms. His legs were weak, and he had difficulty moving. The drink and the loss of blood were taking its toll on him, and he could feel the void creeping up on him.
"You would have had me if you weren't so weak," Jack scolded. "Try again when you grow a spine."
In front of Calico Jack, his crewmates stood as an honour guard, shielding him from any harm. All the while, the crowd was still chanting and getting closer.
Edward put all his strength in his feet and pushed Anne towards the back of the tavern. The crowd didn't pounce on them, they simply forced them back with each step they took. They were letting them go, but Edward didn't know for how long that would remain so. They needed to run.
Anne kept her pistol trained on the crowd, shifting its muzzle from one person to the next as she backed towards the tavern's kitchen. In the kitchen, the men and women who worked the tavern continued the chant in the tight corridors. Their eyes stayed trained on Edward and Anne, but it felt as though they were looking through them.
Edward and Anne stumbled out of the back exit of the tavern to the alley, where Herbert and another crewmate were waiting. Herbert's eyes looked like saucers at the sight of Edward.
"What happened?" he shouted.
"By the sound of the Golden Horn!" Behind them, the chant was getting closer.
"There's no time!" Anne yelled back. "We're getting out of here. Someone help me with Edward."
Edward tried to get to his feet to help his wife and crew escape, but he'd lost his strength long ago. His head became leaden, and his eyes closed. As his world faded to black, the image of his aged father stabbing him in the back burned in his mind.
2. Resolve
Edward awoke with a jump and a pounding headache. By the time he was sitting upright, the pain in his backside flooded over him. He grabbed his left side where the wound was and turned over to avoid lying on it again.
"Welcome back, mon ami," a familiar French voice called behind him.
Still deep in pain, Edward lowered his head and peered through the crook in his arm to see an upside-down Alexandre sitting behind him. He smiled in his hollow way and turned his head slightly to match Edward's orientation before waving to him.
Edward lifted his head and glanced around. He was back on the ship in the surgeon's own room. Various bottles filled with coloured liquids dotted secured shelves alongside every manner of medical equipment and textbooks from across the globe. The strange concoction of medicine and decay hit Edward's nose, and he remembered part of the reason he'd never liked the room.
Edward noticed his body weight shifting back and forth rhythmically. "We're sailing?" he asked.
"Oui," Alexandre replied. "After the run-in with your père, it was decided to leave before trouble follow us."
The pain left Edward in a flash as he remembered what had happened. His father had been in that tavern, and had stabbed him, his own son, in the back. Worse still, his father was Calico Jack, and Benjamin Hornigold before that.
>
His father had been alive all this time. His father had been alive and hadn't come home.
'Your father is in the Caribbean, Edward.' Those had been the last words of John, the former quartermaster of Queen Anne's Revenge and an old friend of Edward's father. He knew, Edward thought. He didn't like to dwell on that moment, as he had been tortured for days on end afterwards, and so he'd forgotten its significance. He knew where my father was, and who he was, all along.
Edward's hand shook as the pain returned, and not just the physical.
"I need a drink," he sputtered as his eyes became hazy.
After a moment of shuffling behind him, Alexandre handed Edward a glass. Edward took it and gulped the liquid down. After finishing half, he stopped and shoved the glass back.
"Rum," he demanded.
Alexandre produced a flask in an instant as if he'd predicted the desire for hard liquor before Edward had asked. Edward cared not for the surgeon's ways and took the drink. In a matter of seconds, Edward guzzled down half the flask's contents before he had to come up for air.
Edward's hand still shook as he lowered the flask. He took in ragged deep breaths, trying to bring air back to his lungs, which felt, to him, so desperately empty. His head and heart pounded in his chest, and he couldn't make sense of the feeling of dread washing over him.
He finished the flask with abandon and lay there on his elbows for a time. He had trouble thinking and didn't know how much time passed. The drink hit him hard and fast, his loss of blood no doubt contributing to the swift onset. The haze clouding his thoughts changed to a different kind, and ever so slowly, Edward felt he could breathe once more.
Edward looked to his right to see Alexandre there, watching him. Alexandre's eyes were dull and cold, as usual, but Edward thought he could see an expectant look on the surgeon's face. Alexandre must be awaiting some sort of explanation for what just happened.
"Stop staring at me, you damn Frenchman, before I cut your eyes out." Edward cared little for his harsh words now that the drink was affecting him.
Alexandre rose from his seat and walked away without a word. Edward shuffled over and rose to his shaky feet. Turning around, he noticed Victoria, Calico Jack's—his father's—former plaything sitting there watching him.
"Did you know too?" he shouted before tripping over his own feet. He grabbed onto the frame of the door nearby to steady himself.
"Know what?" she replied, clearly irked by Edward's accusation, but giving him a chance to back down.
"Hmph," Edward scoffed. "Whoring yourself out to him must have made you privy to his secrets."
Victoria crossed her arms and flashed him a vile look. "Watch what you say next unless you want to lose the chance to have your own son come to try and kill you," she said, nodding towards Edward's nether regions.
Edward laughed a chuckle at first, and then full-blown laughter as he leaned against the door frame. He covered his eyes with his hand as he laughed, rubbing them as they misted, from the humour or the sadness he knew not.
"He tried to kill me," Edward let out between breaths. "My own father tried to kill me. And not just once. He sent me for the keys to this ship, knowing I could die trying. He knew just how to prick me to make me jump the way he wanted."
Edward lowered himself to the sole of the deck, his back resting against the open frame of the door. The pain from his wound was a dull sensation now, dissipated in the haze and spinning that the drink and blood loss brought him.
Time lost meaning to Edward, and he vaguely felt as though he were floating or being carried before lying in his familiar bed. The gentle rocking of the waves and the spinning in his head lulled him to sleep.
…
The sun hit Edward's eyelids, waking him from his slumber. Reflex forced his eyes open and then closed again from the glare. He blinked quickly to adjust himself to the sudden brightness and rose from his bed.
His head was pounding, and his body aching. He sat doubled over on the edge of the bed, holding the sides of his skull to hold back the beating, but it was no use.
"Finally awake, then?" Anne asked near the captain's cabin window.
Edward glanced her way, the light from the sun behind her setting alight her auburn hair. He could barely see her face because of the luminance, but he could tell she was frowning from her arms folded in front of her chest. As soon as she moved, the sun shone directly on his eyes again.
"Agh," he shouted as he looked away. "Dammit, woman, you're killing me."
"No, I'm afraid the drink is to blame from your woes," she replied. She walked over to a barrel secured in the corner of the room, lifted the top of the cask and dunked a cup inside. "Here, drink this," she said as she walked over with the cup.
Edward took the cup and drank the contents. The water, mixed with enough rum to sanitize it, felt good on his tongue.
"We've landed in Puerto Plata for a quick restock and regrouping. The sun will set soon, and we need to decide where to go from here and what to do about recent… revelations."
Edward looked up into his wife's pained eyes. They seemed on the edge of tears, mourning for his situation.
"We're quite the pair, aren't we?" Edward said, casting his gaze on his half-filled cup. "Both our parents want us dead."
Anne lifted Edward's chin up. She still had the glow of the sun surrounding her long red curls. "They aren't our family any longer." Anne stroked Edward's cheek, running her hand down his long black beard before giving it a light tug. "The men and women on this ship are your family now, and they're all that matters."
Edward nodded and forced a smile for his wife. Her sentiment made his heart swell, but it wasn't enough to quell the storm bubbling beneath.
Anne gave him a kiss on his forehead and sat down next to him, not saying another word, but holding him as he continued drinking the water.
"Could it be he just didn't approve of the beard?" Edward joked, giving Anne a sidelong glance with a grin.
Anne looked a bit shocked at first, but chuckled after a moment. "Perhaps you should cut it off and try again?"
Edward laughed with his wife and then gave her a peck on the cheek before resting his head on hers. For a moment, they sat in silence together, embracing each other in solidarity and strength.
"This doesn't change anything," Edward said eventually. "The only thing that's changed is how I must now seek out answers from him. He still abandoned me, abandoned Herbert, tried to kill all of us with foolish trials, and more directly. He's not the man I once called my father."
Anne pulled away from Edward and cocked her brow. "You can't mean that you're still going to kill him? Edward… "
Edward opened his mouth, but for a moment, the words wouldn't come. "I… I know in my mind that if I want this family to survive, and if I want to survive, he needs to die." He stared at his cup for a moment. "What I'll do when I face him next, I cannot say. But I need to face him."
"Then I'll stand by you when that happens. We will," Anne said, placing her hand on Edward's.
Edward smiled, this time more genuinely, and held his wife's hand. They once more sat in silence as Edward finished his water. After it was empty, Edward let go of Anne's hand and rose from the bed.
"Could you gather the senior officers to the quarterdeck cabin? I must tell everyone of my intent."
Anne nodded, gripped Edward's hand for another second, then rose to her feet to leave the Captain's Cabin. Edward watched her as she left, and just before she exited the room, she glanced back his way and smiled at him.
Edward let out a long sigh after Anne left the room, and he lay back in his bed. The weathered boards of Caribbean pine above him suddenly felt unfamiliar and no longer like his home of the last few years. Even the bed appeared lumpier and uncomfortable, though he admitted to himself that the stab wound could be to blame.
He had to get up. He couldn't dwell on his thoughts for long. He could feel the creeping sensation coming at the back of his head, and his legs began to it
ch.
Edward got up and dressed in his standard attire, save for his tricorn hat. He left that behind, but donned his longcoat, given that night was approaching. Following a visual inspection in a mirror, he left the captain's cabin.
He headed through the gun deck to the ladder leading to the weather deck. On his way, several crewmates tipped their caps and inquired about his health. He gave a few short words telling them not to worry and that he was doing much better now.
On the weather deck, a cold salty wind hit Edward's face and hands on his ascent. The sun was just hitting the horizon, but its warmth had all but vanished.
Edward passed by many a crewmate, some lounging, some testing the myriad rigging ropes and knots, and others conversing about what had happened. Their voices grew silent as Edward approached before quickly returning with concerned tones passed along by well-worn phrases asking of his condition.
After repeating the same words he'd said to the crewmates below deck, he laughed off their concern, ensuring that all knew he was in good spirits despite the opposite being true. After wading his way through the throngs, he entered the quarterdeck cabin—the war room, as they called it.
Inside the war room, a smell of musty tomes and gunpowder wafted his way as he entered. The room had its fair share of old books and maps littering tables and cabinets, lending their essence to the ship's wooden architecture.
At the main table, a large oval table stood beneath an ornate chandelier, and on an equally lavish red velvet carpet covering most of the room. Around the table, Anne, William, and Alexandre were sitting in chairs, as Victoria read one of the books on the port side of the room. Christina, her arms folded, leaned against the starboard side of the cabin next to her brother, Herbert, who sat in his wheelchair facing parallel to the entrance to the room.
Upon hearing the door open, all eyes turned towards Edward, and Herbert turned his wheelchair around to watch Edward enter. Herbert's eyes and expression were inscrutable, a mix of confusion or pity or anger which Edward couldn't pin down. He chose to ignore it.
He walked over to his high-backed chair on the other side of the oval table as the heat of all those eyes bore down on him. After sitting down, his back as straight as he could manage with his wound, he stared down each person in the room for a few seconds before lingering a touch longer on Herbert.
Blackbeard's Family Page 2
