The other crewmates of the Black Blood noticed the fight and cheered the combatants on. The two of them rolled and tumbled on the floorboards as hoots and hollers goaded them to continue.
"You think you can beat me in a fight, you bastard?" Edward poured his all into pulling back Herbert's arm.
Herbert brought his other arm up and locked his grip. "Just because I don't handle rigging all day doesn't mean I'm weak."
Edward's neck was in a vice, and he couldn't breathe. Pulling Herbert's arm was useless as he had superior upper body strength and a better position. So, Edward pulled his arm up, then slammed his elbow into Herbert's ribs. Herbert grunted, and his grip wavered. Edward brought his arm up repeatedly, smashing his elbow on Herbert's bones. Though each blow loosened Herbert's hold, it provided no chance to breathe or escape.
"By these copper legs o' mine, you boys better stop yer fightin' else I'll shoot the lot of ye."
Grace O'Malley stormed through the crowd that had gathered, looking down on the two she thought were brothers having a squabble.
Herbert released Edward from his hold, and Edward rolled off him, sputtering and coughing to catch his breath. Herbert went to his chair and got in it.
"We're about ta land in Nassau and you boys're about ta meet Calico Jack. If ye want ta survive the experience, I suggest ye stop fuckin' about." Her hands were on her hips, and her expression daunting. "Herbert, get ta the weather deck. The helmsman needs relief."
"Aye, Captain," he replied as he pushed himself forward to the ladder.
"As fer you," she continued, looking at Edward, who was sitting on the deck and rubbing his sore neck, "ye've been useless of late. If ye want me ta put in a good word, take stock and get ta work. Otherwise, take yer chances overboard. Ye'll 'ave better luck with the sharks than with Jack, I can tell ye that much." The other crewmates chuckled, and some muttered agreements. Then she turned her attention to them. "Did I ask any of ye ta say somethin'? Back to work!"
Grace and the other crewmates dispersed at once, leaving Edward alone on the sole of the deck in the crew's quarters.
Edward's body still ached, but now he also felt the red flush of embarrassment join with it. He gritted his teeth, slammed his fist on the floorboards, and went to the weather deck.
Herbert was already at the helm, so either he'd carried his wheelchair himself or someone else had helped him. He glanced Edward's way when he appeared, then turned his attention back to steering the ship.
Off the bow of the ship, Edward could see the dark shadow of their destination, Nassau. It wouldn't be long before they arrived. It wouldn't be long before he had to kill again; not long before he had to kill more of his family.
Edward, without the numbing effects of the rum, decided to pour himself into the work aboard the ship. He tried to distract himself from the arresting thoughts his mind wouldn't let go of—thoughts of killing his best friend, Henry Morgan, his stepbrother John, and the countless people young and old he had ended over the years.
Haunting him too were the faces of those he had let die through his own weakness. His old quartermaster, John, returned to him. If he had just killed Kenneth Locke instead of leaving him to die, then John might have lived.
John's last words came back to him again as they had the last time he'd thought about the man. 'Your father is in the Caribbean, Edward.' As Edward thought over the words and what they had meant, something itched in his mind.
If John knew my father was alive and he knew that he took the name of Calico Jack, then he knew what my father wanted all this time. He was the one who handed me the first clue to finding the keys of the Queen Anne's Revenge. John was trying to protect me, guide me, and push me to pass the tests. Was he also sending my father letters, telling him of my progress?
Edward's head hurt, but now for a different reason.
No, that can't be. Calico Jack attacked Bodden Town after we got all the keys. If he was to be the final test, then he couldn't have done it any sooner, and John died before we got the last key. It was someone else. Someone else in the crew must have told him we finished. Could it have been Victoria? No, she joined in Port Royal after I acquired the ship. Unless that too was a lie. She and John could have co-ordinated together to… Edward shook his head violently and regretted it just afterwards. It's no use thinking of that now. Focus on the work. The work, man!
Edward returned to his duties, trying to clear his mind in the endless repetition afforded him by the menial labour. With considerable effort, he was able to clear his mind enough to relieve his need for the booze. Before he knew it, the ship had its sails furled and coasted into the harbour towards a nearby port.
The Black Blood, being a brigantine, loomed over the smaller sloops and even smaller ships in the harbour. There were very few that matched the Black Blood's size, and only one that Edward could see that surpassed it. If his ship had been there, it would have been out of place in the harbour, as it often was. The Queen Anne's Revenge was an anomaly amongst pirate vessels, being a three-masted light frigate.
Herbert guided the ship into port, where the crew were ready to secure it to the mooring of the wharf.
Edward took in his surroundings. The town of Nassau wasn't large, but it was bustling with activity. From the many ships in the harbour
