I am Crow. Survived 33 winters. She/her. Welcome to my little corner where I like to blog about whatever I want. Occasionally, I post fanfic. Art on icon and header is mine.
Hey everyone! I have great news!! It is with great pleasure that I announce..........
I'm now on A03!!!
Username is corvuserpens and I just posted the first chapter of my Black Sails fanfic A Girl, An Ocean, with an added bit of lore! It's just an extra little detail I came up with months after I started posting, but if you needed an excuse to start re-reading this fic, here you have it!
Just as I've been doing here, I'll be posting weekly once I've uploaded all the chapters already available here, so if you're one of the three people following Constance's story, make sure to go there! And don't worry, I'll still keep posting here as well ;)
Here's the link to chapter 1 -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/65533057/chapters/168695005
trees are very 🥺 because sometimes i’ll stand under the shade of a tree and look up at it and it’ll sway its branches about in the wind and i’m like oh my God i’m alive and YOU’RE alive. we are alive together and made up of the same starry stuff and standing right next to each other in this moment on this earth. do u feel it when i reach out and press my hand to your trunk? can you hear me? i think you’re so neat. and then the sunlight filters through its leaves just so and that lovely green color leaves me dazzled. it’s just very nice to be an alive thing next to a different sort of alive thing
While the international community speaks of the genocide and ethnic cleansing we are enduring, we are focusing on the details of this urgent crisis moment by moment.
My family and I are surrounded by winter's relentless bombardment. Shrapnel rains down on our heads and inside our tattered tent, leaving us without even the most basic protection. Flying in a torn tent offers no shelter from the bitter cold or the scorching summer heat. Every day we bid farewell to the martyrs of the revolution, witnessing children lose their lives before our very eyes, while we and our children suffer from a profound lack of basic necessities.
We need your help, not to dismantle our tent, but to provide us with the food and medicine we desperately need to survive. I implore you not to abandon us in these circumstances.
Please please continue to support my young friend Ahmed. His family has been displaced many times, they live in a tent in a refugee camp in Gaza, and are subject to terror from attacks that continue under the false “ceasefire.” Ahmed needs food and medicine urgently.
I'm rewatching 2x5, as one does, and this scene is actually comedy gold. Armand's exasperated expression at Louis' yelling, the annoyed "yes??" the even more annoyed "rest" to Daniel, Daniel's gay little run straight into the wall
48 hours. Absolute zero. Only 4 days left.
The clock is ticking down on the $700 needed, and my mom is literally fighting for her next breath in the ICU while we hit a wall.
Please, donate right now if you can, or share my post immediately so it can reach someone who can help before it’s too late.
Donate here - PayPal - Verified fundraiser
A Girl, An Ocean {A Black Sails fanfic} - S02, Ch. 01 (Part 2)
Fandom: Black Sails
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Canon typical violence
Characters: Billy Bones, James Flint, Mr. Dufresne, John Silver protagonist OC, supporting OCs
Relationships: Billy Bones/OC, Hal Gates/OC (paternal), Silver/OC (enemies to friends)
Additional tags: Original character-centric, first person POV, canon character x original character romance, self-discovery journey, canon compliant, slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting sweetness, cute but also sexy, angst galore, found family, canon typical violence
Series: Part Three of Six of A Girl, An Ocean
Chapters: 1/10
Summary: Constance wakes up in a beach somewhere in Florida, where her crew mates are scattered after the failed attempt to seize the L'Urca de Lima. Gates is gone and so are a number of her friends. All seems lost... But an unexpected surprise promises that this is merely the beginning of something much grander.
Author's note: Here we go, season 02, when things get a lot more complicated. Gonna be a while until we get to THAT part we're all excited for, but hopefully I can keep you entertained with some character and side-relationships development. Next chapter will be out July 28. Cheers!
Read it on A03!
Chapter i.
Part ii.
"Dufresne!"
Logan's bellow reached those of us further back from the the hilltop, where we waited. He came running towards us as we jumped to our feet.
"The signal is hoisted!” He panted. “They made it!"
Even before our quartermaster gave the order to move out, I was running to the longboats to help launch them. I pushed all my grief, my anger and worries aside to focus on the battle ahead of us. Nothing mattered except commandeering that warship and getting the hell out of that bay. Nothing else mattered except getting my crew home safe. And by God, that was exactly what I was going to do.
Like always, I brought my two pistols strapped to my waist, my cutlass and my rifle. The plan was simple: row to the ship as fast as we could, climb up the hull, get rid of the few soldiers left to guard her and shoot down the reinforcements while we made our escape. And, lest we forget, try not to die.
Halfway along the voyage, we were spotted from the beach and the Spaniards rushed to intercept us. They were quick to get in the water, but their progress was much slower due to their superior number and better, heavier armor weighting their boats down. Being fewer and less burdened, we had the advantage of speed. Plus, we were very, very desperate to live. That always made for an excellent motivator.
De Groot commanded us from the bow of the longboat I occupied, setting the pace for us while we rowed as a unit. "Stroke! Stroke! Almost there, lads! Stroke!"
I glanced back over my shoulder just as the shadow of the warship loomed over us. For a brief moment I was in awe of her magnitude, with her three gun decks, her hundred portholes, her sails twice the size of the Walrus', so large that she blocked out the sun. She was a beauty, no doubt.
"Brace!"
We lifted the oars out of the water, waited for the bow of our boat to hit that floating fortress, then dropped them and scrambled up however we could. Mindful not to look down, all my thoughts concentrated on climbing, I followed close behind Joji. He was fast as a crab on a rock, gaining momentum with ease and putting distance between himself and I with unnatural ease. Still, my progress was steady and that's what mattered in the end.
Behind us, the Spanish reinforcements started shouting to get the attention of their compatriots aboard and warn them to our presence. It was too late, though; as soon as the first man took a peek over the side, Joji shot him in the face and hauled his nimble frame onto the deck. Our assault came so fast and unexpectedly, they barely had time to react. When I reached the top, a good number of them was already dead on the floor. Even so, as I vaulted over the rails, I pulled out my trusted flintlock and shot one down while he was distracted. Next, I unsheathed my cutlass and got to work getting rid of the rest.
A sword came at me. I blocked it by crossing the cutlass with the flintlock mid-air and followed with a kick to the nuts that made the Spaniard drop to his knees, face purple with pain before I hit him on the temple with the butt of the flintlock. My next victim I stabbed the back, and for once I felt no remorse for throwing honour overboard. The goal was to survive, no matter the cost. There would be no quarter, this time. God knew if it were the other way around, they would have none for us either.
"Mr. Logan!" Dufresne shouted somewhere behind me. "Weigh anchor! We must get underway before they loose those cannons on the beach!"
I used my second pistol to shoot one last soldier and joined Logan plus a handful of others at the capstans, putting my whole weight into it.
"Up the braces!" de Groot urged. "Up the braces, unfold the canvas!"
Through gritted teeth, sweat rolling down my forehead, I pushed on my pole until I felt it rotate faster once more of my mates joined the effort.
"Come on!!" Logan encouraged us as we marched in circles. Just a little more... A little more...!
The capstan shuddered to a stop. The anchor was fully retracted. Just as well, for the reinforcements had begun to shoot from the boats below. I could hear their bullets whizzing past and hit the masts and railings with short, dry smacks.
"Return fire!" Dufresne ordered. "Return fire!"
With barely a moment to catch my breath, I slid my rifle from around my back and took cover behind a crate, from which I aimed for the gunners standing up at the stern of the boats. Carefully, I lined up the barrel, calculated speed, wind and downward arch in seconds, then pulled the trigger. I didn't wait to see if I'd landed my shot; instead, I reloaded as quickly as I could and prepared the next hit--
A bullet smashed into the crate in a burst of splinters, just as I was coming up. I recoiled with a yelp, brought a hand to my eyes to make sure they hadn't been damaged. Thank God, they were both working fine. Motherfucker! Again, I aimed over the crate with a need for payback in my heart. I had no idea which one of them had shot at me, but it didn't matter. I could have been blinded, goddammit!
I chose my target, took a breath and pulled the trigger, smirked when one of the Spaniards fell into the sea, rifle still firmly clutched in his hands. Still, they were inching ever closer, their numbers far superior to ours and we still hadn't moved. I risked a look up whilst reloading; the sails were still tucked despite the contingent of riggers working to free them. What the fuck were they doing up there that was taking so long??
"Cannons are loaded!" Someone warned, not without a pinch of panic.
Dufresne waved frantically at the riggers. "Get us underway! Get us underway!"
At last, the sails unfolded to reveal the red crosses on them. They swelled with wind instantly. Almost exactly at the same time, I heard the cannons going off in several simultaneous blasts.
"Prepare to take fire!" de Groot yelled.
Heart kicking wildly in my chest, I finished loading my rifle and covered my head with an arm just as someone else shouted: "Incoming!!"
There was a sharp whistle, followed by an explosion that rocked the ship. Although I was crouching behind the crate, I still fell on my side and got hit with flying debris. All around me, I saw men losing their balance and bracing against whatever they could. Someone, I think it was Brewer, fell head first from the poop deck, hit one of the guns and rolled aside, but he got back up almost right away and ran to the port side for cover. The surface deck was a mess of broken wood, but from what I could tell, it was all superficial damage.
A peek over my crate and I could see both the beach and the longboats full of Spaniards growing smaller with the distance. Another volley was shot from land, but the projectiles hit the water, well out of range from us. We'd done it. We'd done it!
My crew let out a chorus of "hooray!" while I sighed in relief and leaned my head back. Safe at last. Safe and on our way home. Finally.
Resting my rifle across my thighs, I allowed myself a few seconds to recover my breath and let my racing mind slow down. As I did, I looked around the deck at the smiling faces of my brothers, how they hugged and patted each other on the back, exhausted but relieved. I did a quick head count, just to make sure. Twenty-five... twenty-nine... Thirty... Thirty-two. Everyone was accounted for. By some goddamned miracle, no one else had died during our assault.
Thank God... Thank God, our luck was finally turning. I was so glad I wanted to cry. In fact, I may have shed just a tear or two, though I would have denied it if anyone asked. I was so sick of crying, of feeling crushed under the weight of sorrow, so I dabbed my eyes with my sleeve and allowed myself to grin from ear to ear. We were alive and we were going home. If that wasn't a good reason to smile, I didn't know what was.
Then, when I looked up with a snuff... I spotted Flint, not ten meters from me. He was still hunching slightly, but the heavy glare he was casting at the stern of the ship as we sailed away from the coast revealed that none of his former ambition had suffered. Whatever it took, he was going to come back for that treasure if it was the last thing he did. As if sensing someone watching him, the former captain tore his gaze away from the horizon to search the deck until he found me staring at him.
It was the perfect opportunity. Everyone else was distracted. He had a pistol in hand, but weak as he was, would he be fast enough to draw it? Could he beat me to it? My finger was already perilously close to the trigger. All I had to do was lift the barrel and pull it.
Jesus Christ, it was so tempting. So tempting. The image of Mr. Gates lying dead in the great cabin flashed in my mind, spurring on my anger. I saw Bjorn on the floor, impaled by a beam, his hand grasping mine while he died. Sayeed hanging limp from the rigging. And though I hadn't witnessed it with my own eyes, I saw Billy falling from the beakhead into black waves, saw Flint pushing him over. Did I not have the right to avenge them? Did I not deserve to send their killer straight to hell? Would that not be justice?
Slowly, I began to move. Flint's hand jerked on the pistol, but he didn't lift it. He watched me intently as I put my rifle aside, stood up and stopped. My breath had gone ragged. My heart pounded with a desire that rarely came to me. Kill. Kill. Kill. I could almost hear it, a growl in my head urging me, so loud that all other thoughts became muffled.
But then... something else surfaced into Flint's eyes, some other, much deeper emotion that was equal parts foreign and familiar to me. I couldn't quite put my finger on it... but it was something close to regret.
Fucking hell. It was... empathy. He was looking at me as if he was seeing himself. Like he had once been in my position and understood exactly what I was feeling. A shudder racked me to the bones and I hesitated. That was when I realized he wasn't going to defend himself. If I wanted to shoot him down, or pummel him or choke the life out of him with my bare hands, he would let me.
Goddammit. God... dammit.
With a furrowed brow, my soul empty yet heavier than I'd ever felt it, I turned my back on James Flint and walked away.
***
The debate on what to do about him and Silver next was long and hard, stretched well into the night. Opinions were almost evenly split: one side wanted to see them both hang for what they had done regardless of the success of Flint's plan, while the other felt expulsion without severance was an adequate punishment, given that we would all be dead if they hadn't seized the warship.
It was not a pleasant exchange of arguments. There were plenty of fists waving and insults thrown around. Dufresne had a hard time keeping everyone's tempers in check. De Groot and I had to intervene once or twice in his aid. Together, we ensured things stayed civil and somewhat calm.
For my part, I was mostly on the hanging side. At least for Flint. Silver... Silver I wasn't so sure anymore. He might be as much of a liar as Flint, as well as an annoying little shit and a coward, but he had helped me save my friends, had pried me away from Bjorn to save my life. And this was minutes after I had him by the neck, ready to plunge my blade into his throat. He could have ran away and saved himself after I had let him go, but he didn't.
Was it a genuine act of kindness or another manipulation to get me or anyone else to feel compelled to spare his life? I didn't know. I wanted to believe the former was the truth, but... I didn't know. And when I didn't know, I believed it was best to hold back on the killing until I was sure.
Either way... I was tired, hungry and still hurting all over, even more so after the fight. The gold could wait until we landed in Nassau. I just wanted a good smoke, some food and then sleep.
The crew was split into watches and the men dispersed, either to their posts or below decks. I was selected for the morning watch, thank Christ, so I climbed the stairs to the poop deck and lit up my pipe. Whilst smoking, I sat on the floor, back resting on the rails, and watched the stars slowly drift through the sky. For the first time in days, my body began to go lax and my mind slowed, thoughts becoming increasingly clearer. I named the stars in hushed whispers as I spotted them and that was when I noticed the weight in my heart had lifted a little. Upon that realization, I was struck by a pang of guilt, at least until I remembered something Gates had told me long ago, when Jean had been killed on his first attack.
"We never truly move on from anyone we've lost," I muttered to myself. His voice in my head was as clear as if he were there with me. "They always stay with us, every day of our lives... Live... and keep them in your memory, and they will never truly die..."
Live for me, Billy's ghost whispered.
Neither of them would have wanted me to torture myself feeling guilty for what I did or didn't do to save them, so I wouldn't. But... I missed them so much. Oh, how I longed to share that pipe in my hand with Jean one more time. How I wished to see Gates climb the highcastle ladder to come check on me and offer words of wisdom. How I wanted to go down to the galley and find Bjorn, Sayeed and Morley playing cards or having a drink. Above all...
Above all, I wanted to get into my hammock and wait, knowing that some time soon Billy would sneak up to join me so we could fall asleep in each other's arms. These were such small, everyday things, but knowing I would never get to experience them again left me with a profound sense of loneliness.
It was in the midst of these thoughts that Silver found me. Bringing a small lantern along, he carefully ascended the ladder and peeked into the poop deck. When he spotted me sitting alone in the dark, for once, he didn't smile.
"Hello," he greeted while approaching, footsteps jittery and insecure. His forehead shimmered with sweat and I noticed he'd found himself new clothes, no doubt stolen from one of the warship's former sailors. Not that he would need them anymore, I supposed. "I've been looking for you."
My nerves started to grate almost instantly. Just because I had lost my appetite for his blood didn't mean I was ready to tolerate his presence. From my point of view, he was still equally responsible for my crew's disgrace, including my own.
"What do you want with me?" I spat out.
"Well..." He set the lantern down on the floorboards and crossed his arms with a furrowed brow, always staying close to the ladder for a quick getaway, just in case. "I must confess I'm rather curious about something."
I already knew the answer, but still asked: "What about?"
"Since Mr. Gates' untimely death - which I had nothing to do with, by the way - you've been eager to see me dead and nearly succeeded at it at least once. So... Imagine my confusion when I heard the others downstairs talking about how appalled they are that you, of all people, voted to spare my life and Flint's."
I let my eyes close and took a long puff of my pipe.
Silver shifted from one foot to other and waited for my reply, but when all he got was silence, he drummed his fingers into his arm and pressed his mouth into a thin line. "I'm curious to know why you would change your opinion so drastically, is what I'm driving at."
"I didn't," was my flat reply. I rotated the pipe in my hand slowly, kept my eyes on it to avoid having to look at him. "Not about Flint, at least."
"Then why did you not vote for our hanging?"
I let out a long breath and shrugged. "I don't know."
"Sure you do," he retorted. Can't lie to a liar, it seemed. "From my experience, when someone wants to kill you as much as you wanted to kill me, they don't suddenly lose the urge just because."
A few seconds of silence passed until I forced myself to look him in the eye with an impatient glare. "You could have abandoned ship and saved your own skin when the Spaniards returned fire. But you didn't. I heard you calling out for Howell. You helped O'Neill and I get Luca out from under that cannon. And... you tried to take to safety." Chin tilted down, I took another puff and blew out the smoke through my nostrils. "I don't know if it was a gamble on your part to compel us to vote to spare your life, or if there's just enough decency in you to lend aid to people in need of it. Either way, it counted for something. I couldn't have Flint executed without you alongside him, so... I voted against it. Even if you were the reason why the Spaniards fired at us in the first place."
"Right...” He made a face. “Sorry about that."
"No, you're not."
It was his turn to shrug, though he was at least wise enough to not to deny it. "Believe it or not, I may be an incorrigible liar and a thief, but I'm not a monster. I understand those men died as a consequence of my actions. I wagered that Flint could lead us to victory and insurmountable wealth... And I was wrong.” All air of jest abandoned his features as he looked me in the eyes. “So, I am sorry for the friends you lost as a consequence. Truly. Especially Mr. Gates."
I didn't believe a word of it. Only a moron would, especially after he had just admitted to being a liar and a thief. However, I didn't have the energy to enter mind games with him, so I nodded and left it at that.
Silver rubbed at the back of his neck. "Whatever the case, I feel I should thank you for voting in favor of letting me live. I imagine it wasn't an easy choice, knowing Flint would get to walk free as well."
"You don't owe me shit for it, if that's what you're worried about."
"Right..." He stood there for a moment until he decided he had pushed his luck and turned to leave. Then, he stopped at the ladder, hesitated and turned once more. "You love them very much, don't you? Your crewmen."
A faint smile tugged at my lips, even if there was no joy in my heart. "They're the family I chose. The family that chose me. Before I joined this crew, I was nothing but a girl at the mercy of men who cared little for my well-being. Not them. They see me for who I am, not what I am. When I'm with them, I am whole." I leaned back my head to gaze at the sky. "Like we're all stars forming a constellation. Alone, we are but bright dots in the sky. Together, we become something more. Something... beautiful. Every time I lose one of my crew, it's like a part of me died with them."
Silver also lifted his eyes to the stars swirling above us and smiled. "That's a nice way to think about it."
I hummed in response, put out the pipe and stood up, ready for bed. But, before I retired, I pegged him with a loaded look that made him take a step back and his Adam's apple to bob nervously.
"Understand something, John Silver." I lowered the pitch of my voice to a growl. "Those men out there are the reason I'm still alive in more ways than you can imagine. I would die for every one of them, if I had to, but I will not think twice about killing for them, as well. The next time you put them in danger with your lies and your schemes will be your last. I'm giving you a second chance, here. Don't squander it."
Silver gave a quick little nod. "I won't. You have my word."
Your word means fuck all to me, I thought bitterly with a twist of my mouth. I walked past him, down the ladder, and left him alone with his thoughts.
Below decks, a party was in full swing. The men were in good spirits as they celebrating our escape from certain death with ale and rum they had sniffed out from the hold. I swear, they were like bloodhounds when it came to alcohol. Still, it was good to see them laugh again. Soon enough we would be home, they would muster a force to return to Division Bay and recover the Urca treasure, I would free the rest of the Andromache's captives... and then...
And then England would come and take everything away from us. What would I do? Stay and fight, probably die, or run away? I didn't know. Didn't want to think about it, not yet. I made my silent way through the gundeck to find a free hammock to slip into. That was all I could afford to fret over, after the last few weeks.
"Siren!" Thierry shouted over the others. “Come have a drink with us!"
Wincing, I prepared to refuse with the excuse I needed rest, but then Muldoon stood up and stared me down with an arched eyebrow. "You promised, no more brooding. Now get the fuck over here and join us!"
The others made their agreement known by banging their fists on the mess hall tables and beckoning me over. Seeing them all gathered around, battered but alive, I couldn't help to smile and approached. They howled their approval and patted my back as I sat down between Folsom and Howell. Someone passed me a tankard of ale and I took a sip from it. Wasn't bad. Not bad at all.
Conversation resumed and I sat back, only half listening. Though all I did was drink, I felt myself sink into place.
“Stars in a constellation,” I murmured to myself.
Looking at this band of ragged sailors, one would never think about the delicate twinkle of stars. To me, there was no doubt that's what they were - each of them a light in the dark that guided me to safety. A few of them had gone out, leaving a void where they used to be, but as long as even one of them remained, I would never be truly lost.
Suddenly, I sprung up from my seat and yelled: "Oy, ya bullies!! Listen here!" When the men went quiet and turned to me, I raised my tankard. "I wish to propose a toast."
Immediately, they exploded with applause, grabbed at their drinks and held them up as well.
"To our fallen comrades, who fought bravely for a dream and died with dignity."
"Huzzah!" They hailed. We downed our booze in a single breath, hands smacking frantically on the tables, feet stomping, the burn of alcohol racking us up into a frenzy so that when our cups were empty, we were hooting, whistling and cackling for joy.
I sat back down, already feeling my cheeks warm up and my fingers buzzing, when Logan stood and began to sing a mournful shanty about a ship that dreamt of full sails while imprisoned in the doldrums. Soon enough others joined him, a choir of downtrodden men who would never let their lost friends slip from memory, who needed to have their grief expressed some way before they succumbed to madness from missing them so much.
With closed eyes to hold back the prickling of tears, I could at least console myself knowing I wasn't the only one becoming emotional while singing that sorrowful ballad. Against the black of my lids, I pictured Billy in that grassy field I had seen in a dream days ago, his face toward the sea, the soft sun shinning gold on his skin and a peaceful smile upon his lips.
I pitched the last verse of the song as a tribute to him, to Gates, to everyone - and when I finished and the hold went quiet, I thought... Maybe a little bit of pain wasn't such an evil after all. It was the banner that signaled I hadn't forgotten, the tombstone that marked the spot in my heart that would forever belong to these people I had loved. As long as it was there, they would live on...
A Girl, An Ocean {A Black Sails fanfic} - S02, Ch. 01 (Part 2)
Fandom: Black Sails
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Canon typical violence
Characters: Billy Bones, James Flint, Mr. Dufresne, John Silver protagonist OC, supporting OCs
Relationships: Billy Bones/OC, Hal Gates/OC (paternal), Silver/OC (enemies to friends)
Additional tags: Original character-centric, first person POV, canon character x original character romance, self-discovery journey, canon compliant, slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting sweetness, cute but also sexy, angst galore, found family, canon typical violence
Series: Part Three of Six of A Girl, An Ocean
Chapters: 1/10
Summary: Constance wakes up in a beach somewhere in Florida, where her crew mates are scattered after the failed attempt to seize the L'Urca de Lima. Gates is gone and so are a number of her friends. All seems lost... But an unexpected surprise promises that this is merely the beginning of something much grander.
Author's note: Here we go, season 02, when things get a lot more complicated. Gonna be a while until we get to THAT part we're all excited for, but hopefully I can keep you entertained with some character and side-relationships development. Next chapter will be out July 28. Cheers!
Read it on A03!
Chapter i.
Part ii.
"Dufresne!"
Logan's bellow reached those of us further back from the the hilltop, where we waited. He came running towards us as we jumped to our feet.
"The signal is hoisted!” He panted. “They made it!"
Even before our quartermaster gave the order to move out, I was running to the longboats to help launch them. I pushed all my grief, my anger and worries aside to focus on the battle ahead of us. Nothing mattered except commandeering that warship and getting the hell out of that bay. Nothing else mattered except getting my crew home safe. And by God, that was exactly what I was going to do.
Like always, I brought my two pistols strapped to my waist, my cutlass and my rifle. The plan was simple: row to the ship as fast as we could, climb up the hull, get rid of the few soldiers left to guard her and shoot down the reinforcements while we made our escape. And, lest we forget, try not to die.
Halfway along the voyage, we were spotted from the beach and the Spaniards rushed to intercept us. They were quick to get in the water, but their progress was much slower due to their superior number and better, heavier armor weighting their boats down. Being fewer and less burdened, we had the advantage of speed. Plus, we were very, very desperate to live. That always made for an excellent motivator.
De Groot commanded us from the bow of the longboat I occupied, setting the pace for us while we rowed as a unit. "Stroke! Stroke! Almost there, lads! Stroke!"
I glanced back over my shoulder just as the shadow of the warship loomed over us. For a brief moment I was in awe of her magnitude, with her three gun decks, her hundred portholes, her sails twice the size of the Walrus', so large that she blocked out the sun. She was a beauty, no doubt.
"Brace!"
We lifted the oars out of the water, waited for the bow of our boat to hit that floating fortress, then dropped them and scrambled up however we could. Mindful not to look down, all my thoughts concentrated on climbing, I followed close behind Joji. He was fast as a crab on a rock, gaining momentum with ease and putting distance between himself and I with unnatural ease. Still, my progress was steady and that's what mattered in the end.
Behind us, the Spanish reinforcements started shouting to get the attention of their compatriots aboard and warn them to our presence. It was too late, though; as soon as the first man took a peek over the side, Joji shot him in the face and hauled his nimble frame onto the deck. Our assault came so fast and unexpectedly, they barely had time to react. When I reached the top, a good number of them was already dead on the floor. Even so, as I vaulted over the rails, I pulled out my trusted flintlock and shot one down while he was distracted. Next, I unsheathed my cutlass and got to work getting rid of the rest.
A sword came at me. I blocked it by crossing the cutlass with the flintlock mid-air and followed with a kick to the nuts that made the Spaniard drop to his knees, face purple with pain before I hit him on the temple with the butt of the flintlock. My next victim I stabbed the back, and for once I felt no remorse for throwing honour overboard. The goal was to survive, no matter the cost. There would be no quarter, this time. God knew if it were the other way around, they would have none for us either.
"Mr. Logan!" Dufresne shouted somewhere behind me. "Weigh anchor! We must get underway before they loose those cannons on the beach!"
I used my second pistol to shoot one last soldier and joined Logan plus a handful of others at the capstans, putting my whole weight into it.
"Up the braces!" de Groot urged. "Up the braces, unfold the canvas!"
Through gritted teeth, sweat rolling down my forehead, I pushed on my pole until I felt it rotate faster once more of my mates joined the effort.
"Come on!!" Logan encouraged us as we marched in circles. Just a little more... A little more...!
The capstan shuddered to a stop. The anchor was fully retracted. Just as well, for the reinforcements had begun to shoot from the boats below. I could hear their bullets whizzing past and hit the masts and railings with short, dry smacks.
"Return fire!" Dufresne ordered. "Return fire!"
With barely a moment to catch my breath, I slid my rifle from around my back and took cover behind a crate, from which I aimed for the gunners standing up at the stern of the boats. Carefully, I lined up the barrel, calculated speed, wind and downward arch in seconds, then pulled the trigger. I didn't wait to see if I'd landed my shot; instead, I reloaded as quickly as I could and prepared the next hit--
A bullet smashed into the crate in a burst of splinters, just as I was coming up. I recoiled with a yelp, brought a hand to my eyes to make sure they hadn't been damaged. Thank God, they were both working fine. Motherfucker! Again, I aimed over the crate with a need for payback in my heart. I had no idea which one of them had shot at me, but it didn't matter. I could have been blinded, goddammit!
I chose my target, took a breath and pulled the trigger, smirked when one of the Spaniards fell into the sea, rifle still firmly clutched in his hands. Still, they were inching ever closer, their numbers far superior to ours and we still hadn't moved. I risked a look up whilst reloading; the sails were still tucked despite the contingent of riggers working to free them. What the fuck were they doing up there that was taking so long??
"Cannons are loaded!" Someone warned, not without a pinch of panic.
Dufresne waved frantically at the riggers. "Get us underway! Get us underway!"
At last, the sails unfolded to reveal the red crosses on them. They swelled with wind instantly. Almost exactly at the same time, I heard the cannons going off in several simultaneous blasts.
"Prepare to take fire!" de Groot yelled.
Heart kicking wildly in my chest, I finished loading my rifle and covered my head with an arm just as someone else shouted: "Incoming!!"
There was a sharp whistle, followed by an explosion that rocked the ship. Although I was crouching behind the crate, I still fell on my side and got hit with flying debris. All around me, I saw men losing their balance and bracing against whatever they could. Someone, I think it was Brewer, fell head first from the poop deck, hit one of the guns and rolled aside, but he got back up almost right away and ran to the port side for cover. The surface deck was a mess of broken wood, but from what I could tell, it was all superficial damage.
A peek over my crate and I could see both the beach and the longboats full of Spaniards growing smaller with the distance. Another volley was shot from land, but the projectiles hit the water, well out of range from us. We'd done it. We'd done it!
My crew let out a chorus of "hooray!" while I sighed in relief and leaned my head back. Safe at last. Safe and on our way home. Finally.
Resting my rifle across my thighs, I allowed myself a few seconds to recover my breath and let my racing mind slow down. As I did, I looked around the deck at the smiling faces of my brothers, how they hugged and patted each other on the back, exhausted but relieved. I did a quick head count, just to make sure. Twenty-five... twenty-nine... Thirty... Thirty-two. Everyone was accounted for. By some goddamned miracle, no one else had died during our assault.
Thank God... Thank God, our luck was finally turning. I was so glad I wanted to cry. In fact, I may have shed just a tear or two, though I would have denied it if anyone asked. I was so sick of crying, of feeling crushed under the weight of sorrow, so I dabbed my eyes with my sleeve and allowed myself to grin from ear to ear. We were alive and we were going home. If that wasn't a good reason to smile, I didn't know what was.
Then, when I looked up with a snuff... I spotted Flint, not ten meters from me. He was still hunching slightly, but the heavy glare he was casting at the stern of the ship as we sailed away from the coast revealed that none of his former ambition had suffered. Whatever it took, he was going to come back for that treasure if it was the last thing he did. As if sensing someone watching him, the former captain tore his gaze away from the horizon to search the deck until he found me staring at him.
It was the perfect opportunity. Everyone else was distracted. He had a pistol in hand, but weak as he was, would he be fast enough to draw it? Could he beat me to it? My finger was already perilously close to the trigger. All I had to do was lift the barrel and pull it.
Jesus Christ, it was so tempting. So tempting. The image of Mr. Gates lying dead in the great cabin flashed in my mind, spurring on my anger. I saw Bjorn on the floor, impaled by a beam, his hand grasping mine while he died. Sayeed hanging limp from the rigging. And though I hadn't witnessed it with my own eyes, I saw Billy falling from the beakhead into black waves, saw Flint pushing him over. Did I not have the right to avenge them? Did I not deserve to send their killer straight to hell? Would that not be justice?
Slowly, I began to move. Flint's hand jerked on the pistol, but he didn't lift it. He watched me intently as I put my rifle aside, stood up and stopped. My breath had gone ragged. My heart pounded with a desire that rarely came to me. Kill. Kill. Kill. I could almost hear it, a growl in my head urging me, so loud that all other thoughts became muffled.
But then... something else surfaced into Flint's eyes, some other, much deeper emotion that was equal parts foreign and familiar to me. I couldn't quite put my finger on it... but it was something close to regret.
Fucking hell. It was... empathy. He was looking at me as if he was seeing himself. Like he had once been in my position and understood exactly what I was feeling. A shudder racked me to the bones and I hesitated. That was when I realized he wasn't going to defend himself. If I wanted to shoot him down, or pummel him or choke the life out of him with my bare hands, he would let me.
Goddammit. God... dammit.
With a furrowed brow, my soul empty yet heavier than I'd ever felt it, I turned my back on James Flint and walked away.
***
The debate on what to do about him and Silver next was long and hard, stretched well into the night. Opinions were almost evenly split: one side wanted to see them both hang for what they had done regardless of the success of Flint's plan, while the other felt expulsion without severance was an adequate punishment, given that we would all be dead if they hadn't seized the warship.
It was not a pleasant exchange of arguments. There were plenty of fists waving and insults thrown around. Dufresne had a hard time keeping everyone's tempers in check. De Groot and I had to intervene once or twice in his aid. Together, we ensured things stayed civil and somewhat calm.
For my part, I was mostly on the hanging side. At least for Flint. Silver... Silver I wasn't so sure anymore. He might be as much of a liar as Flint, as well as an annoying little shit and a coward, but he had helped me save my friends, had pried me away from Bjorn to save my life. And this was minutes after I had him by the neck, ready to plunge my blade into his throat. He could have ran away and saved himself after I had let him go, but he didn't.
Was it a genuine act of kindness or another manipulation to get me or anyone else to feel compelled to spare his life? I didn't know. I wanted to believe the former was the truth, but... I didn't know. And when I didn't know, I believed it was best to hold back on the killing until I was sure.
Either way... I was tired, hungry and still hurting all over, even more so after the fight. The gold could wait until we landed in Nassau. I just wanted a good smoke, some food and then sleep.
The crew was split into watches and the men dispersed, either to their posts or below decks. I was selected for the morning watch, thank Christ, so I climbed the stairs to the poop deck and lit up my pipe. Whilst smoking, I sat on the floor, back resting on the rails, and watched the stars slowly drift through the sky. For the first time in days, my body began to go lax and my mind slowed, thoughts becoming increasingly clearer. I named the stars in hushed whispers as I spotted them and that was when I noticed the weight in my heart had lifted a little. Upon that realization, I was struck by a pang of guilt, at least until I remembered something Gates had told me long ago, when Jean had been killed on his first attack.
"We never truly move on from anyone we've lost," I muttered to myself. His voice in my head was as clear as if he were there with me. "They always stay with us, every day of our lives... Live... and keep them in your memory, and they will never truly die..."
Live for me, Billy's ghost whispered.
Neither of them would have wanted me to torture myself feeling guilty for what I did or didn't do to save them, so I wouldn't. But... I missed them so much. Oh, how I longed to share that pipe in my hand with Jean one more time. How I wished to see Gates climb the highcastle ladder to come check on me and offer words of wisdom. How I wanted to go down to the galley and find Bjorn, Sayeed and Morley playing cards or having a drink. Above all...
Above all, I wanted to get into my hammock and wait, knowing that some time soon Billy would sneak up to join me so we could fall asleep in each other's arms. These were such small, everyday things, but knowing I would never get to experience them again left me with a profound sense of loneliness.
It was in the midst of these thoughts that Silver found me. Bringing a small lantern along, he carefully ascended the ladder and peeked into the poop deck. When he spotted me sitting alone in the dark, for once, he didn't smile.
"Hello," he greeted while approaching, footsteps jittery and insecure. His forehead shimmered with sweat and I noticed he'd found himself new clothes, no doubt stolen from one of the warship's former sailors. Not that he would need them anymore, I supposed. "I've been looking for you."
My nerves started to grate almost instantly. Just because I had lost my appetite for his blood didn't mean I was ready to tolerate his presence. From my point of view, he was still equally responsible for my crew's disgrace, including my own.
"What do you want with me?" I spat out.
"Well..." He set the lantern down on the floorboards and crossed his arms with a furrowed brow, always staying close to the ladder for a quick getaway, just in case. "I must confess I'm rather curious about something."
I already knew the answer, but still asked: "What about?"
"Since Mr. Gates' untimely death - which I had nothing to do with, by the way - you've been eager to see me dead and nearly succeeded at it at least once. So... Imagine my confusion when I heard the others downstairs talking about how appalled they are that you, of all people, voted to spare my life and Flint's."
I let my eyes close and took a long puff of my pipe.
Silver shifted from one foot to other and waited for my reply, but when all he got was silence, he drummed his fingers into his arm and pressed his mouth into a thin line. "I'm curious to know why you would change your opinion so drastically, is what I'm driving at."
"I didn't," was my flat reply. I rotated the pipe in my hand slowly, kept my eyes on it to avoid having to look at him. "Not about Flint, at least."
"Then why did you not vote for our hanging?"
I let out a long breath and shrugged. "I don't know."
"Sure you do," he retorted. Can't lie to a liar, it seemed. "From my experience, when someone wants to kill you as much as you wanted to kill me, they don't suddenly lose the urge just because."
A few seconds of silence passed until I forced myself to look him in the eye with an impatient glare. "You could have abandoned ship and saved your own skin when the Spaniards returned fire. But you didn't. I heard you calling out for Howell. You helped O'Neill and I get Luca out from under that cannon. And... you tried to take to safety." Chin tilted down, I took another puff and blew out the smoke through my nostrils. "I don't know if it was a gamble on your part to compel us to vote to spare your life, or if there's just enough decency in you to lend aid to people in need of it. Either way, it counted for something. I couldn't have Flint executed without you alongside him, so... I voted against it. Even if you were the reason why the Spaniards fired at us in the first place."
"Right...” He made a face. “Sorry about that."
"No, you're not."
It was his turn to shrug, though he was at least wise enough to not to deny it. "Believe it or not, I may be an incorrigible liar and a thief, but I'm not a monster. I understand those men died as a consequence of my actions. I wagered that Flint could lead us to victory and insurmountable wealth... And I was wrong.” All air of jest abandoned his features as he looked me in the eyes. “So, I am sorry for the friends you lost as a consequence. Truly. Especially Mr. Gates."
I didn't believe a word of it. Only a moron would, especially after he had just admitted to being a liar and a thief. However, I didn't have the energy to enter mind games with him, so I nodded and left it at that.
Silver rubbed at the back of his neck. "Whatever the case, I feel I should thank you for voting in favor of letting me live. I imagine it wasn't an easy choice, knowing Flint would get to walk free as well."
"You don't owe me shit for it, if that's what you're worried about."
"Right..." He stood there for a moment until he decided he had pushed his luck and turned to leave. Then, he stopped at the ladder, hesitated and turned once more. "You love them very much, don't you? Your crewmen."
A faint smile tugged at my lips, even if there was no joy in my heart. "They're the family I chose. The family that chose me. Before I joined this crew, I was nothing but a girl at the mercy of men who cared little for my well-being. Not them. They see me for who I am, not what I am. When I'm with them, I am whole." I leaned back my head to gaze at the sky. "Like we're all stars forming a constellation. Alone, we are but bright dots in the sky. Together, we become something more. Something... beautiful. Every time I lose one of my crew, it's like a part of me died with them."
Silver also lifted his eyes to the stars swirling above us and smiled. "That's a nice way to think about it."
I hummed in response, put out the pipe and stood up, ready for bed. But, before I retired, I pegged him with a loaded look that made him take a step back and his Adam's apple to bob nervously.
"Understand something, John Silver." I lowered the pitch of my voice to a growl. "Those men out there are the reason I'm still alive in more ways than you can imagine. I would die for every one of them, if I had to, but I will not think twice about killing for them, as well. The next time you put them in danger with your lies and your schemes will be your last. I'm giving you a second chance, here. Don't squander it."
Silver gave a quick little nod. "I won't. You have my word."
Your word means fuck all to me, I thought bitterly with a twist of my mouth. I walked past him, down the ladder, and left him alone with his thoughts.
Below decks, a party was in full swing. The men were in good spirits as they celebrating our escape from certain death with ale and rum they had sniffed out from the hold. I swear, they were like bloodhounds when it came to alcohol. Still, it was good to see them laugh again. Soon enough we would be home, they would muster a force to return to Division Bay and recover the Urca treasure, I would free the rest of the Andromache's captives... and then...
And then England would come and take everything away from us. What would I do? Stay and fight, probably die, or run away? I didn't know. Didn't want to think about it, not yet. I made my silent way through the gundeck to find a free hammock to slip into. That was all I could afford to fret over, after the last few weeks.
"Siren!" Thierry shouted over the others. “Come have a drink with us!"
Wincing, I prepared to refuse with the excuse I needed rest, but then Muldoon stood up and stared me down with an arched eyebrow. "You promised, no more brooding. Now get the fuck over here and join us!"
The others made their agreement known by banging their fists on the mess hall tables and beckoning me over. Seeing them all gathered around, battered but alive, I couldn't help to smile and approached. They howled their approval and patted my back as I sat down between Folsom and Howell. Someone passed me a tankard of ale and I took a sip from it. Wasn't bad. Not bad at all.
Conversation resumed and I sat back, only half listening. Though all I did was drink, I felt myself sink into place.
“Stars in a constellation,” I murmured to myself.
Looking at this band of ragged sailors, one would never think about the delicate twinkle of stars. To me, there was no doubt that's what they were - each of them a light in the dark that guided me to safety. A few of them had gone out, leaving a void where they used to be, but as long as even one of them remained, I would never be truly lost.
Suddenly, I sprung up from my seat and yelled: "Oy, ya bullies!! Listen here!" When the men went quiet and turned to me, I raised my tankard. "I wish to propose a toast."
Immediately, they exploded with applause, grabbed at their drinks and held them up as well.
"To our fallen comrades, who fought bravely for a dream and died with dignity."
"Huzzah!" They hailed. We downed our booze in a single breath, hands smacking frantically on the tables, feet stomping, the burn of alcohol racking us up into a frenzy so that when our cups were empty, we were hooting, whistling and cackling for joy.
I sat back down, already feeling my cheeks warm up and my fingers buzzing, when Logan stood and began to sing a mournful shanty about a ship that dreamt of full sails while imprisoned in the doldrums. Soon enough others joined him, a choir of downtrodden men who would never let their lost friends slip from memory, who needed to have their grief expressed some way before they succumbed to madness from missing them so much.
With closed eyes to hold back the prickling of tears, I could at least console myself knowing I wasn't the only one becoming emotional while singing that sorrowful ballad. Against the black of my lids, I pictured Billy in that grassy field I had seen in a dream days ago, his face toward the sea, the soft sun shinning gold on his skin and a peaceful smile upon his lips.
I pitched the last verse of the song as a tribute to him, to Gates, to everyone - and when I finished and the hold went quiet, I thought... Maybe a little bit of pain wasn't such an evil after all. It was the banner that signaled I hadn't forgotten, the tombstone that marked the spot in my heart that would forever belong to these people I had loved. As long as it was there, they would live on...
Pacific viperfish (Chauliodus macouni) may look intimidating, but those dramatic teeth are perfectly suited for life in the deep sea. They are among the countless marine animals that migrate each night from the ocean’s depths towards shallower surface waters to dine on small fishes and shrimp before returning to the depths.
Their long, needle-like teeth help them grip slippery prey, while their hinged jaws open wide enough to catch a meal that might otherwise escape. A row of tiny light-producing organs along their belly also helps them blend into the faint light filtering down from above, making them harder for predators and prey to spot.
Every observation of animals like the Pacific viperfish helps us better understand the remarkable adaptations that allow life to thrive in the deep ocean.
