THE CHAIN │our flag means death.
001 ༄ set sail.
Within the confines of Stede's Captain's quarters, Mary sat upon a rather ornate sofa, Lucius to her right, sat on a matching chair whilst the gentleman worked quickly at serving the lady tea. As the shrill sound of Stede tapping the silver spoon on the brim of the delicate teacup, rang in her ears, she turned her head to the brunet, his eyebrows furrowed and almost glaring at her. He immediately looked down at his book as Mary swallowed a large lump in her throat.
"So!" Stede proclaimed, a white teacup in his hands, outstretched towards her. Graciously bowing her head, the ginger takes the cup and saucer in her hand, trying to stop her shaking. "Do I recognise you?" the blond questioned.
Mary having just taken a sip of her hot tea, almost choked, tapping her hand on her chest as a small cough left her enclosed mouth. "Depends," She started, "What is your name?" You see the problem with Mary was that she had a few names over the years and it was difficult to guess which of these he knew her by.
"Stede Bonnet," he replied, his voice carrying a note of familiarity.
Her eyes widened as the name left his mouth. They had indeed crossed paths before. A few years ago, Stede and his wife had stayed at the Haversham mansion during the summer. Mary vividly remembered that time; she, along with Sir Haversham's daughters, were instructed to keep strictly out of sight, like mere servants. She herself had seen Stede however, one night in the beautiful gardens of Haversham Hall, flooded with tulips, as per her request.
"Haversham! That's it," Stede exclaimed, his booming voice causing both Mary and Lucius to jump slightly. Lucius hurriedly attempted to dry the ink that had smudged on his page. "How is your father?"
Mary's heart raced as she tried to maintain composure, even as a wave of apprehension washed over her. "My... my father?" she stammered.
"Sir Haversham was always a good friend of my own fathers," Stede explained, seemingly unaware of the turmoil he had stirred within Mary, however, Lucius was not.
"Yes," she managed to reply, her mind scrambling for a suitable response. "Yes, my father is good," she lied, knowing that any sign of unease could arouse suspicion.
Stede's face fell as he sat beside Mary, his voice softening as he drew closer to her. Mary leaned forward, her face still, lips slightly parted as she nervously breathed. "I do wish to give my condolences for your dear mother," the blond expressed, his brow furrowing with sympathy.
Startled by his sudden proximity, Mary turned her head to meet Stede's gaze, causing him to immediately pull back, their noses barely touching for a fleeting moment. "Excuse me," she quipped, trying to regain her composure.
"Your mother? Or I suppose your stepmother," Stede smiled, ignoring Lucius, who was gesturing frantically behind Mary. Lucius desperately tried to signal his Captain to stop talking, suspecting that Mary might not be entirely truthful. In his mind, there was no way this girl was telling the whole truth.
Mary glanced at Lucius, who quickly pretended to be engrossed in his book once more. "Thank you," she acknowledged with a small bow of her head before returning her attention to Stede.
"I remember meeting her one night," Stede reminisced, delicately placing his teacup down. "In the gardens." Mary's eyes fixed on him; her eyes held the power to captivate academics and artists alike, yet Stede remained blissfully oblivious to the intrigue she inspired. "She wouldn't let me see her," he chuckled, "insisted on staying in the shadows. Made me close my eyes, count to ten, and then..." He paused, took a breath, and continued with a touch of sadness in his smile. "She disappeared, leaving nothing but—"
"A Yellow Tulip," the two said in unison. Lucius raised an eyebrow, perplexed at how he could have misjudged Mary. Stede sat speechless, unable to utter a confirming response. However, he finally noticed a subtle expression on Mary's face, something both solemn and hopeful.
Mary quickly averted her gaze to the teacup in her lap, swallowing hard before whispering, "Mother loved those." She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, hoping her actions portrayed her as a grieving daughter rather than a woman mourning the life she never had.
Before Stede could resume their conversation, a loud crash resounded from the deck, followed by the ship rocking as if the anchor had been hauled up and they were setting sail. Annoyed, Stede set down his teacup with a huff. "I'll be just a moment," he said, smiling softly as he motioned for Lucius to follow him out of the room.
Through the partially open cabin door, Mary expected to hear Stede reprimanding his crew, but her thoughts began to drift as she questioned whether this was truly a pirate ship. The opulent ornaments and trinkets surrounding her hinted at a wealthy gentleman's abode, which she knew Stede to be, casting doubt on her assumptions about the ship's crew.
The girl crept towards the door to the cabin, creaking it open just a tad. "I gave you money to buy the fish." Stede placed his face in his hands. Opening the door more she watched the crew shuffling their feet like schoolchildren, a dark-skinned larger man adorned with a purple waistcoat with applique very similar to the captain himself spoke, using his hands to articulate. "I told them not to! They wouldn't listen"
"Hey!" a smaller man pointed his finger towards the larger man, "I didn't hear you complaining."
"I actively complained many times, Pete." He retaliated.
The argument continued, Stede attempting to interject as more and more of the crew joined in. Mary took this time to look at them, they certainly looked like pirates. Ragged clothing besides a few different pieces such as the man's waistcoat. With a smile on her face, which Mary herself didn't know why, she met one of the crewmate's eyes. A lean man with dark curly hair and beard and a crude guitar held loosely in his left hand. A loud screech came from his mouth as he jumped from his space to hide behind the rest of his crew, an arm outstretched to point at the captain's door; stunned in her place, Mary could all put let go of the door, which unfortunately allowed it to swing open, letting the rest of the crew take in the fact that a woman was not only on board but stowed away in their captains quarters.
"Frenchie it's okay." Stede attempted to calm him down. The man, now known as Frenchie's screech persisted until he ran out of air, A larger man with grey hair clamped a hand around his mouth before he was able to start once more. "Gentlemen!" Stede commanded, drawing their attention to him as he approached Mary, who was trembling with anxiety. "This is Mary Haversham. She shall be joining us, and I will hear no word about it." He firmly took her hand and led her to the centre of the deck, instructing his crew to carry on with their duties. Amidst the crew's murmurings, Mary couldn't help but overhear some rather crude remarks regarding their captain and a stick, that she would rather forget.
As the crew dispersed, Stede turned to Mary, his eyes stern as she looked up at him, feeling the tightening grip on her hand. "Perhaps now you could tell me why a woman of your standing, daughter of a Sir, is living in a fishing village dressed in rags."
