I’ve spent the past three or so weeks on this linocut study of the gay pirates and I am so pleased to be done with it! Much as I enjoyed alllllllllllthose fun little details…it’ll be good to start a new project.
Although I’ve indulged in a rare crosspost with this one, I only really post art on instagramthese days, so if you’re interested in more of This Sort Of Thing please check me out over there! ️☠️❤️
the work starts early, before the heat and humidity sets in. the sails must be adjusted, the speeds accounted for. there is an appalling amount of rope that needs to be dragged into this place or that, rigging that needs to be maintained or replaced. navigation is a time-consuming magic all its own, and then there are the inventories, the cleaning, the planning required to move the ship and her crew safely along the waters.
stede hadn’t started his work early enough, but he’s catching up now. he’s learned the trick to climbing up into the rigging, built up the calluses on the palms of his hands and the soles of his feet, divined the purpose of moving coils of rope from one place to the next. his face is sun-worn and his hair salt-bleached and he no longer cares about lazy mornings because the wind has filled out his sails and set him free.
it helps, of course, that there is still tea.
morning, ed says, pressing a mug into his hands once the dawn has made her way out of the far-away waters. coming in for breakfast today, or shall I have roach bring it here?
stede considers. they no longer lay out the china, most days. who needs porridge served from a tureen when it’s just as good out of a malformed ceramic mug, studded with nuts and cinnamon, if they’re lucky. they can eat it at the bow, watching the sea split before them, or leant against the capstan with the crew laughing around them, or wherever else they please.
let’s take it up for the view, stede decides, and ed grins.
they’d eaten their first breakfast together in the foretop, half-hidden in the sails and watching the sun crest over the horizon. eyes tired, muscles aching, wounds sore. wearing each other’s rings.
it’s still their favorite place to greet the day.
stede can climb the jacob’s ladder to the foretop himself these days and he can do it without thinking, although the pulley system is still rigged up for sheer convenience. by the time he hauls himself up onto the platform, there are two mugs of porridge waiting level for them, and there is ed.
there is ed.
stede feels himself smile on a reflex as ed takes his hand to help him steady himself. he feels himself lean in, taking reassurance in the strength and the familiarity of that frame. he feels himself want, in the same way he has always wanted, in the way not tempered at all by the having.
not tempered, but comforted. the wanting doesn’t hurt so much, these days.
ed passes him his porridge, and stede passes him a kiss.
the beard is shorter, now, though still as salt-and-pepper as ever. stede likes the way it feels against his cheeks and his chin, against his mouth. ed tastes like seven sugars and the last of the cinnamon they’d liberated recently, and stede loves him.
hi, he says. and how are you today, captain?
ed kisses him back. it’d taken a long time, after that first time, for ed to kiss him back again, but the pain is just a ghost of the past. i’m well. and you, captain?
perfectly lovely.
they eat their porridge. they lean together. they watch the sea, stretching out around them. the memory of that first morning sits with them; they are still wearing each other’s rings.
where do you think the day will take us today, then? stede asks, taking ed’s hand in his, finding the ring on the fourth finger to press a kiss there. shall we move in closer to the coast, see if we can find anybody lurking? or set out for open waters?
ed doesn’t answer for a long time, but when he does, it’s with his forehead against stede’s temple and his mouth gentle against his jaw. anywhere, sweetheart, he says. anywhere i’m with you.
stede smiles. he turns into ed’s kiss and lets himself linger.
the stern of the ship has been painted over. the revenge has long since sunk.
