The laughing stopped when Edward removed his sweat-soaked shirt in the middle of travel one day, showing off his multitude of scars across his large barrel of a chest and muscular back. That night, the attentive audience was a bit quieter when Edward told of a wounded man who sniffed a mysterious poison that gave him speed and strength beyond that of an average man.
During the travel, Edward's sudden shift from being a captain of over a hundred souls to a lowly deckhand jarred him in an at first confusing but ultimately relaxing way. Not having responsibility over dozens of men at a time, juggling being a kind yet firm measure of authority, lifted a weight from his shoulders he hadn't known was there.
At the same time, he had to catch himself several times before he chastised his new crewmates and issued orders beyond his station. Each time it was minor, but he had to bite his tongue lest he sour the relationship between the men giving him passage and they did indeed throw him and Herbert overboard.
Herbert, it seemed, enjoyed the lack of responsibility even more than Edward, and for a good reason, as the crew expected exactly nothing of him. A few gave him dark looks the first day when he got in the way of more than a few men milling about tending to ship's duties, only holding back from swearing and smacking him because he'd paid his way. After warming to the duo, it turned to simply ignoring him as he stared off at nothing on the horizon.
Edward mused to himself that he wasn't the only one with a hidden weight that needed lifting.
It also took Edward a goodly amount of time to adjust to taking orders. More than a few times, the captain and first mate of the Hunter had to repeat orders to him, even shouting his fake name, Teach, louder for him to come to his senses.
It was a valuable lesson and one he was glad he learned now on a ship they'd paid passage for rather than when aboard an enemy ship where their only protection would be their false identities.
When they arrived in Tortuga, it was with a warm cup of whiskey and a smile and a wave from each of the ship's crew. Edward was glad for the time in many ways, as soon, he suspected, there would be no smiles to spare.
…
"There it is," Herbert commented delightedly.
Edward's gaze followed Herbert's outstretched hand as he pointed towards a ship stationed in the harbour. It flew the familiar flag of one of Calico Jack's crew, a white, symmetrical skull with crossed swords underneath it, but the burnished copper trim around the edges of it denoted that it was for one of his subordinates. The flag flapped towards the two men as though it were a supple young lady beckoning them closer, but Edward knew the lady to be a siren in disguise, and so he steeled his mind appropriately.
"Herbert, whatever happens next, don't question me. Understood?"
Herbert looked over to Edward with a confused, half-cocked expression. Before he could ask Edward what he meant, Edward spoke again.
"I need you to promise me first, then I'll tell you what I plan to do. I don't want to have to order you as your captain, but I will."
Herbert glanced back at the flag, then down briefly to the dock, his chin soon setting as hard as a lock. He gave Edward a nod and said, "Understood."
"From what we've seen from Calico Jack's crew, and from what you've told me, they value strength above all else."
Herbert stroked his chin. "That is true. Before Cache-Hand could become part of their crew, he had to capture a Spanish galleon. A near-impossible feat. It makes one wonder what strange acts the others had to do to prove themselves to Mad Jack."
Edward grimaced at the casual mention of his former enemy, the pain of each inflicted wound returning to him, along with memories of dead crewmates' warm blood on his hands and the sick smell of death in his nose. A thousand thoughts like silent needles stabbed his skin and mind, and his hand and heart began to shake. He reached inside his breast pocket with laboured movement, grabbing the flask held there, and hastily took a large drink from it.
Herbert was at a loss for words as he watched his captain drink. After a moment, he sputtered out a meek, "Sorry."
Edward forced a smile just as laboured as his hand's moving, then chuckled. "You have nothing to apologize for. That was for what's about to happen," Edward said before taking another drink. He then turned to face his friend and crewmate directly. "I'll be blunt," Edward began, "Calico Jack's crew doesn't like cripples. If we both want on that ship, we need to prove to them you're not going to be a burden. We can't expect them to allow you passage with some coin, and they will have a helmsman currently, so they have no need of another."
"So, what do you propose?" Herbert asked.
"We ask them what we need to do to be a part of their crew, and whatever they ask for, I'll do the work of two men." Edward pointed towards himself with his thumb, full of the confidence that comes partly from being a foolhardy young man, and partly from frequent imbibements.
Thinking the matter settled, Edward headed towards the ship. "That's not a very good plan," Herbert shouted after him.
"Have you a better one?" Edward replied over his shoulder as Herbert rolled up next to him.
"No, I suppose I don't," he replied with the sulky tone of a chided child.
Edward leaned a bit closer to Herbert, trying to talk secretly over the din of the surrounding town and harbour. "Also, I think it best if we were brothers for this. More reason for us to
