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The Bane of the Caribbean (Remastered)

Summary:

AU where Max and Chloe’s pirate dreams are a reality.

Five years after leaving her seaside town of Arcadia, New York, Captain Max Caulfield is assigned to escort the jewel of the Royal Navy to Kingston, valuable cargo in its hold. The journey is smooth until the terror of the Caribbean appears, sailing straight for them.

The dreaded Captain Bluebeard.

Notes:

The “remastered” version of my first fic. Slightly different, but hopefully better.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Captain Max Caulfield

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Morning came quicker than she expected. With a mixture of birds chirping and the sun shining through her window, she forced herself to get up. She changed into her captain’s uniform, which consisted of a crimson red jacket underneath a white shirt, with tan breeches and white stockings. After she got dressed, she went downstairs, having just enough time for something to eat before she saw a carriage pull up to the house.

She went outside, the driver already waiting. He opened the door.

“Thank you,” Max said as she stepped in. The carriage door closed behind her.

As the carriage sped away from her parents’ estate and down the road, she leaned back, reminiscing about how she got where she was in only five years. Having left New York when her father was called over to England, she joined the Royal Navy near the end of the Spanish Succession and served on a 22 gun brig, fighting Spanish ships until the war came to a close. For her service, she was rewarded with command of a new ship, her current ship, a 44 gun frigate, the Chrysalis, and continued to patrol the Caribbean, occasionally intercepting a Spanish ship or two until she sailed to Kingston, where she was given a letter by Admiral Mark Jefferson to return to England, where she was told that she would be escorting the famed first-rate turned cargo ship HMS Valiant.

The HMS Valiant, the jewel of the British navy, was captured from a Spanish treasure fleet during the Spanish Succession. Originally used as a ship of the line, she was repurposed, all cannons removed, making room for more space in the hold. She was the ship that the monarchy uses to transport its vast wealth across the empire. The very ship that she, Max Caulfield, was assigned to escort.

The door to her carriage opened.

“Captain Caulfield, the Plymouth docks,” the driver said to her.

“Thank you,” she responded, grabbing her hat before stepping out. Captain, she thought to herself as she made her way through the crowded port. She had arrived back in England earlier in the week, and was able to spend a few days with her parents before she would set sail again.

Walking along the docks, she could see the masts of the Valiant, with her ship anchored not too far ahead. Boarding the Chrysalis, she was greeted by another sailor.

“Captain! Welcome aboard!” He took off his hat and bowed to her.

“Thanks, Howard. And you know the traditional stuff isn’t necessary, right?”

“I know,” he said, putting his hat back on his head. “But it seems appropriate.”

Howard Wenton, Max’s first mate since she was given command of the Chrysalis. He always backed her and made sure the crew did the same.

Making her way to the helm, she surveyed her surroundings, gazing behind her ship at the prized Valiant.

Howard stood beside her on the poop deck. “Once a jewel of the Spaniards. Three decks, three masts, and a hold large enough to carry the King’s Army across the Atlantic.”

“But she’s not carrying soldiers, is she?”

Howard shook his head. “Not to my knowledge. We’re delivering much-needed supplies to Kingston.”

“Supplies, huh? Must be important if she needs an escort.”

“With the way pirates have control of those waters, every ship carrying supplies would need an escort. Just hoping to God we don’t run into any.”

“Here’s hoping.” She had heard stories of the pirates that roamed the Caribbean waters, from the infamous Blackbeard to Charles Vane and Ben Hornigold. But above all was Captain Bluebeard, who struck terror into the hearts of even the most experienced sailors. “You think they’d try to mess with us?”

Howard shrugged. “It’s hard to tell. Some might shy away from taking on several ships at once, others might jump at the chance.”

She nodded, hoping the journey would be smooth.

“Captain!” a voice called from the docks.

“Yeah?” she responded.

“The Valiant is ready to go. We’re waiting for your signal.”

“Tell the convoy to set sail!” she yelled before taking a hold of the wheel of her ship. “Raise anchor! Loosen sails!”

The convoy pulled away from Plymouth port and sailed out into the Atlantic, bound for Kingston. It would take five weeks to sail there. Five weeks on the open ocean. Five weeks of, hopefully, calm waters and no pirates.

*****

A small breeze blew through the trees, not a cloud in the sky. The chatter of people could be heard in the distance. Another day in paradise.

She took another sip from her rum bottle, waiting for the repairs to her ship to finish so she could bring terror to more British sailors. The last captain she fought was a formidable opponent and managed to deal a significant amount of damage to her ship, but, like always, she was the one to come out ahead.

“Chloe,” a voice from behind her said.

“Huh?” she responded, looking over her shoulder.

“Follow me. I want to talk with you.”

She groaned. “We can’t do it here?”

“No.”

Groaning again, she downed the rest of the rum, tossing the bottle aside before standing up. “Fine. Lead on.”

The man took her from the coast through the outskirts of the town and up towards a large white building, pushing in the double doors and stepping inside.

“We really had to come to the villa?”

“Yeah.”

They turn left and make their way down to a door at the end of a long hallway. Opening the door, the room was filled with luxury goods, with a red carpet rolled straight down the center, stopping at a large table with a map of the entire Caribbean in the middle of the room, with a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

“So…” Chloe began, leaning on one of the chairs placed around the table, “what’s so important?”

He walked around to the opposite end of the table and sat down before speaking. “An undercover schooner just came back from Kingston. Word is that the British are expecting the arrival of a convoy carrying supplies for the town, being escorted is the famed Valiant.”

She did a double-take. “The Valiant? As in the Valiant?”

He nodded, pointing to the map. “Yes. They’re supposed to be sailing southeast of here within the next few days. Your ship is repaired, so go out and plunder the Valiant. We’re bloody low on supplies, and with how much that ship can hold, we’d be set for months. Now go.”

Running from the villa into the streets of the town, she quickly retrieves her newly sharpened swords from the blacksmith before climbing aboard her ship.

“Captain! What’s going on?”

“No time to explain,” she responds, taking hold of the ship's wheel. “Raise anchor and lower sails! It’s hunting time.”

Once the anchor was raised and sails were unfurled, the brig pulled away from the port, her navy blue crossbones flag flying in the wind. She pulled a blue face veil over her mouth and nose. Bluebeard’s back, you bastards, she thought, and we’re coming for your precious Valiant.

*****

The sea was calm, the sky slightly overcast. It had been four weeks of smooth sailing, save for the one or two squalls they had encountered.

Leaning on the poop deck, she looked out at the convoy, seeing the sails of the majestic galleon she was escorting, flanked on either side by two brigs.

Howard walked up beside her.

“The Valiant’s a beauty, isn’t she, Captain?”

She smiled. “You can say that again, Howard.”

“Only… what, another week to Kingston?”

She nodded. “Give or take a few days, depending on the weather. Either way, it’ll be nice to be back in safe waters again.”

Safe waters was putting it lightly. They had already crossed the Atlantic and were now in pirate territory, and had to be watchful of any ships they came across. Spaniards and pirates alike were everywhere, and any would be more than happy to take the prized Valiant.

“Speaking of safe waters…” Howard gazed over her shoulder before walking to the starboard side of the helm, taking out a spyglass. “Captain. You’re going to want to see this,” he said, turning to her and holding it out to her.

She walked over to him, taking the spyglass and peering through it, seeing a single ship on the horizon. “Looks like a brig. No more than 28 guns,” she said as she lowered the spyglass before turning to Howard. “Signal our brigs to engage!”

She watched as he ran down to the deck and hoisted a reg flag before turning and watching the brigs peel off from the Valiant to engage the ship. One single 28 gun brig against two 26 gun brigs of the best navy in the world? That ship captain was doomed. Raising the spyglass to her eye again, she focused on each of the British brigs before turning on the engaging ship, seeing the ship’s cannons coming into a clearer view… and the flag it was flying. She lowered the spyglass, her eyes wide at the realization. That wasn’t any ship captain.

“Are you cereal? No… it can’t… no,” she muttered, raising the spyglass to her eye again to make sure she wasn’t seeing things, the flag coming into clearer view.

The “Bones of Blue,” as it was called, was fluttering in the wind.

“Howard!” she yelled.

He looked up from the main deck. “Captain!” he responded.

“Signal the brigs to return! Don’t engage that ship!”

“What? Why?”

“Because that” -she pointed to the ship- “is the Firewalk!”

The Firewalk was the scourge of the Royal Navy, and her captain, Bluebeard, was no better. Though just a 28 gun brig, it was armed with cannons found on first-rate ships of the line, with plated metal on each side and sails that made it faster than an empty clipper. She could fight half a dozen frigates and come out unscathed, mostly thanks to her captain.

Bluebeard was just as much as a pain in the Royal Navy’s arse as the ship he commanded. Using a combination of heated shot, chain shot, fire barrels, and mortars allowed him to go up against even the best the Royal Navy could pit against him. Ruthless against all British sailors he came across, he always wielded double swords, four pistols, and could strike down a dozen seamen with the blink of an eye. But this was only rumor, for no sailor had survived a battle against him. He was such a problem that the Crown and the governors in Kingston and Charleston offered a 5,000 pound reward for his head, and 10,000 pounds for him alive.

“Too late, Captain!” a lookout yelled from the rigging. “Look!”

She looked to starboard, the Firewalk sailing between the two British brigs, broadsiding both of them. They returned fire, and soon a white curtain of smoke fell over the three ships.

“Howard! Slow the ship!” she commanded. “If they want the Valiant, they’re going to have to go through us first!”

As the Chrysalis’ sails were folded, she glanced back at the cloud of smoke, seeing a ship emerge from it.

“She’s made it through!”

“Figures,” Max muttered. “Ready the…” The Firewalk’s cannons shot, cutting her off.

Howard ran up to the helm. “Chain shot!” he yelled.

She gripped the wheel, the Firewalk coming upon them. “Get ready to broadside them!”

The Firewalk, however, didn’t come up beside them. Rather, Bluebeard maneuvered the ship in between the Chrysalis and the Valiant.

“What is he doing?”

“The same thing he did with the brigs! He’s trying to sink both of us! Are the cannons loaded?”

“Yes, Captain!”

“Fire!”

With that command, The Chrysalis’ cannons unloaded into the pirate brig. The Firewalk quickly returned fire.

“Brace!”

The cannon fire stopped for a brief moment, grappling hooks taking hold of her ship.

She drew her cutlass. “Prepare for boarding!”

Her crew drew swords just as pirates from the Firewalk boarded her ship. Howard ran down onto the deck, engaging them. Two brazen pirates swung on ropes from the Firewalk and landed on the helm. She stood her ground, parrying thrust after thrust, not giving in to either of them.

A musket fired, killing one of the pirates and drawing the attention of the other, allowing Max to thrust her sword into the other pirate’s chest before pulling it out as he fell on the deck. She turned to look at the sailor that fired the musket, a hole appearing in his forehead before he was shoved over the side of the ship, splashing into the water below.

The pirate holstered his pistol as he walked up the steps to the helm, unsheathing two swords. “You’ll pay for that,” he promised as he pointed a sword at her.

She noticed his navy blue jacket and bandana. Bluebeard. She clutched her sword’s handle, ready for a fight. “Make me.”

The cold metal of swords clashed at the Chrysalis’ helm. The two combatants swung countless blows at each other but none landed. Max parried a quick blow from the left side, deflecting it but stumbling backwards. The rumors were right. Bluebeard could strike down anyone with the blink of an eye.

Seeing her stumble, he swung his swords down at her. Reacting instinctively, she dove forward. He missed, and she spun around, swinging her sword from her right. He deflected it, both of them recoiling.

Breathing heavily, he wiped his forehead with his jacket’s sleeve. “You’re a tough one.”

She met his gaze, smirking and raising her sword.

He charged her as if he were in a fit of rage, swinging each sword at her individually. She was having a tough time parrying each blow. Blocking a blow from above, she swung her sword down and out to the left, exposing herself to an attack. Her right foot was swept out from under her, and she hit the deck with a thump, dropping her sword. She looked up, a blade inches from her face.

“You fought well. But not well enough. Round up everyone else!”

She was kneeling on deck with half a dozen survivors, smoke, and the stench of gunpowder filling the air. Dead bodies of her crewmates, swords, pistols, and muskets were scattered around the deck, her own was thrown overboard after she surrendered. Despite how fiercely her crew fought, they were no match against the dreaded Bluebeard. His crew was rejoicing, both on the Firewalk and her ship.

“Now, now… the Captain,” he said, pacing back and forth, glancing at each of them before setting his eyes on her. “You!” he yelled, grabbing her by the coat collar, pulling her up off of her feet. She was suddenly brought face to face with the most feared pirate in the Caribbean, fear overtaking her. He took out another flintlock and brandished it in front of her face. “Now here’s what’s going to happen,” he spoke in a gruff voice. “Like any other Bloody Navy captain I come across, there’s gonna be a bullet in your head so goddamn fast, all that’s left will be a mangled red mess.”

“No!”

Both of them turned to see Howard rushing at the pirate captain. Bluebeard threw her to the ground before firing his flintlock, striking him in the stomach. She tried to get up, only to be held back by two other pirates. All she could do was watch as he drew a sword and ran it across the man’s neck. He crumpled to the deck, both hands on his neck, trying to stop the bleeding.

“Kill the rest!”

Muskets fired, the remaining British sailors falling dead on the deck. Bluebeard approached her again, a flintlock pointed at her head.

She looked up at him. However, it wasn’t fear that engulfed her. Rather, it was her trying to recall where she had seen his face before. His blue eyes seemed so… familiar. She could tell he was thinking the same thing. “No,” he finally said, taking hold of her. “I’m taking this one to my cabin.”

As she was pushed onto the Firewalk, one of the pirates protested.

“Captain!” He’s British.”

“Thank you for pointing that out. Don’t worry about what I’m doing. Just load up supplies from the Valiant.”

“Uh, it’s not provisions Captain.”

“What? What is it then?”

“Wood and sails. Useless to us.”

He shook his head before spitting into the ocean. “Dammit. Let it carry on.”

“What? Why?” someone questioned.

“We’re low enough on shot as it is. I’m not wasting any more to sink an unarmed, useless ship. Look for another ship! I’m not returning with an empty hold!”

As he led her into his cabin, she felt him let go of her arm, watching him place his hat on a desk in the middle of the room. He turned to her, pulling his blue bandana down from his face before speaking.

“Hey, Max. Been a long five years.”

She now recognized who it was, her mouth dropping. “C-Chloe?”

Notes:

Thanks to escherlat for beta’ing.

Chapter 2: Reunion

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Chloe… you’re Bluebeard?” Max asked, still shocked.

“Yes, Max. Hard to believe?” Chloe said as she took a seat behind the desk in the middle of the room.

“Do you know how many English sailors you just killed?”

“Yeah. A lot. So?” she responded as if nothing had happened.

“So? So? You sink two ships and all you say is ‘so?’”

“I’ve done it before,” she snarled back defensively. “Serves them right for taking everything from me, not that you would know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Max, a lot of shit’s happened since you abandoned me in New York.”

“Chloe, that doesn’t give you… wait. You… you think I abandoned you?” she asked.

“Well, what else would you call it?” Chloe responded, gesturing at one of the chairs in front for Max to sit down.

She reluctantly sat down, meeting Chloe’s gaze, trying to think of something to say. “I… I don’t know, Chloe, but… I didn’t try to leave you.”

“What do you mean ‘you didn’t try?’” she spat. “My dad didn’t try to get picked for a bullshit ‘expedition,’ but look at what happened.”

She vaguely recalled that William left before she did. “What… happened to William?”

“I don’t know, but this isn’t about my dad, Max!” she shouted, slamming her fist on the table. “This is about you! Imagine waking up right after your dad is sent away for who knows what reason to find out that, no, your best friend is taken away from you too! And not just you, but your whole family! I thought you would write to me about where you were, and when you didn’t, I thought you were dead. And then I find you, five fucking years later in the goddamn Bloody Navy of all things.” She got up from the desk and walked to the other side of the cabin, arms crossed.

“I…” Max started but stopped herself. She didn’t know what to say. What were you supposed to say when you come back into someone’s life who thought you were dead? “Chloe,” she said again, getting up and walking over to her, “I… I’m sorry I didn’t contact you. I should have, and I’m sorry. But I thought my parents told Joyce that we were moving to England.”

Chloe sighed, shaking her head. “Well, if they did, she never told me. I would’ve left then.”

“Why? I thought you liked Arcadia.”

“No, it wasn’t Arcadia. It was New York. After… my dad left, we moved there to find work. My mom eventually started seeing this rich ass-dick with a mustache and tried to arrange a marriage because it was ‘my time.’ I said ‘fuck that’ and hopped on the first merchant ship out of there. Fast forward a few years, and boom. Piracy.”

“But… why piracy?” Max asked, confused. “Couldn’t you have sailed on merchant ships and earned a living that way?”

Chloe huffed. “Max, I don’t know what those idiots on the other side of the ocean tell you, but piracy isn’t as bad as they make it out to be. I’m guessing they say that we’re just out for blood and riches?”

“Uh, yeah,” Max sheepishly admitted.

“Well, we’re not. I am, though. For the former at least, because, ” Chloe emphasized, seeing that Max was about to question, “because, of all the shit I’ve been through. I didn’t have bounties placed on my head for nothing. Besides, Nassau is always in need of supplies.”

“Nassau. The… pirate republic?”

“Yep. We’re not self-sufficient. Besides, sailing itself is appealing, but piracy?” she explained. “We’re free out on these waters. We make our own decisions. We are in charge, not some monarch across the Atlantic who thinks he owns every inch of the world.”

Chloe silently made her way back to the desk, leaning against it. “So… what about you, Max? Why’d your family leave?”

“Business,” she said. “My dad got a big offer to go to England… and he took it. I joined the Royal Navy right before the conflict with Spain ended. After that, it was just… stuff like this.”

Chloe just nodded. Silence fell over them for a while before Chloe eventually broke it, walking over to Max, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, look. I… owe you an apology for lashing out at you. It isn’t your fault that you left, and I’m sorry for saying it was.”

“I’m sorry too, Chloe,” Max said. “I should have written.”

“Yeah, but who knows how long it would’ve taken to cross the Atlantic.”

They both smiled, looking into each other’s eyes.

“Are… we still Max and Chloe?” she asked.

“Dude…” Chloe began, pulling Max closer to her, wrapping her in a hug. “We’ll always be Max and Chloe. I’ve missed you.”

Initially surprised, Max hugged her back. Even after five years apart, she was still Chloe. She no longer cared about what had just taken place. She had her childhood friend back. “I’ve missed you, too.”

After a few more seconds, Chloe released her. “Okay, now that the mushy shit’s over, we need to celebrate.” She walked over to a chest on the right side of the room and opened it, revealing about a dozen rum bottles inside. She took two out and opened them before offering one to Max.

“I… don’t drink,” she said.

“Well,” Chloe started, forcing it into Max’s right hand, “we’re going to change that.”

She raised her bottle. “We’re Max and Chloe. Forever,” she said before taking a drink.

“Forever,” Max repeated, looking at the bottle that was shoved into her hand, unsure of whether to drink it or not.

“Come on Max. Just try a little,” Chloe insisted. “It’s not going to kill you.”

The rum had a slightly sweet taste, which surprised her.

“That was… different.”

“See? What’d I tell you?” Chloe took her bottle, setting them both on the desk. “Now, I want you to…”

One of the cabin doors opened, interrupting her. A head poked in. “Captain, there’s a Spanish ship coming up. Brig, no more than sixteen guns. Do we engage?”

“What do you think?”

The pirate nodded, yelling as he closed the door, “Load cannons!”

“Shit. We’d better get out there,” Chloe said. She pulled her bandana up from her neck over her mouth before routing around for something behind her desk.

“Max, take that off,” she said over her shoulder, gesturing to Max’s entire body.

“Take… what off?”

“That… your red jacket.”

Not long after she had it taken off was a black one flying at her.

“Here. Put this one on instead.”

“Uh, okay. Why?” she asked, pulling her arms through the sleeves of the jacket, which surprisingly fit her.

“Because,” Chloe began, standing up, “most of them out there, myself included, hate the British jacket. Besides, you look better in black.” She ruffled her hair.

“Do… you think they’ll say anything? That one wasn’t really fond of you taking me on board.”

She shrugged. “Eh, They’ll just have to deal with it. Come on.”

Max followed Chloe out onto the deck and up to the helm. To her relief, none of the pirates were focused on her. Instead, all eyes were focused on the Spanish brig, which was coming up portside. However, the ship didn’t attack. Instead, she seemed to be slowing down.

“What the hell?” Chloe muttered. “Furl sails! Let’s see what they want!”

The Firewalk’s sails folded as she came up beside the Spanish brig, her captain leaning on the starboard side of the helm. He shouted something to them.

“What?” Chloe yelled back.

The captain spoke again, leaving Chloe with a confused look.

“Okay, do any of you speak Spanish?” Chloe asked her crew.

One raised his hand. He was a short fellow with raggy brown hair hanging over a bandana, looking no more than seventeen.

She pointed to the Spanish captain. “Translate what the fuck he’s saying!”

Doing as he was told, the boy conversed back and forth with the captain before turning to her. “He wants to know what you want.”

“Food. Provisions. Whatever they have.”

More conversing.

“He says he’ll give it to you, under one condition.”

“Which is?”

“You let him sail on to his destination. He doesn’t want any trouble.”

“Done deal,” she answered without hesitation. “Hook them in but don’t kill any of them! We’re taking it peacefully.”

As most of her crew pulled in the Spanish ship, one pirate protested, the same one that protested against her taking Max on board.

“Captain…” he began.

“Shut it,” she snapped back, pointing a finger at him from the helm, “I don’t want to hear anything more from you. The Valiant was disappointing enough, and all I want to do now is return to Nassau with something. Now, will it be possible for you to keep your mouth shut until we’re anchored?”

The pirate begrudgingly nodded.

“Good. Now help take the cargo to the hold.”

There was more cargo than she had anticipated, and it took her crew about thirty minutes to transfer everything from the Spanish brig to hers. However, her ships hold was full, being enough to supply Nassau for a good amount of time before the others could return. With thanks exchanged through Chloe’s translator, the grappling hooks were broken, and the Spanish brig sailed away.

“Loosen sails! You,” Chloe said, pointing to one of her crewmen, “take the wheel. Get me when we reach Nassau.”

“Aye, Captain.”

The Firewalk’s square rigged sails on her two masts were unfurled, her course still set for the pirate haven.

Chloe led Max back into her cabin, who was visibly shocked at what she just witnessed.

“Chloe… how? They just gave up?”

She shrugged. “My reputation precedes me, I guess? But now that we’ve got more time to burn, what was it like in England?” She sat down behind her desk, removing the bandana from her face before reaching for one of the rum bottles.

“It was… okay,” Max began, sitting down, taking the other one. The previously tense atmosphere had changed in the half hour they were gone. “There weren't many opportunities for me, and when sailing came my way, I took it. Being out on the ocean’s nice. No… laws. No…” She began to trail off, realization hitting her.

“No what?”

“No… anything. It’s like what you said before. You’re free. You’re in charge.”

“See? Told you it was appealing.”

“So… what about you? You said a little bit, but how did you exactly get into it?”

Chloe looked back out the window, sighing. There was a pause before she went into detail, how she and Joyce had moved into the heart of New York City to find work. How she left to escape an arranged marriage. How she settled in Charleston for a time before she returned to the sea and found the pirate republic. Max sensed that Chloe was skipping over details, especially during her time in Charleston, but decided against prying further. She wished she had been there for her, and inside was kicking herself for not keeping in touch. But Chloe had forgiven her, and they had each other again.

Once Chloe was finished, they sat in silence for several minutes, occasionally taking a sip of rum.

The cabin door opened again. “Captain, Nassau is on the horizon.”

Chloe nodded. “I’ll be right out. Damn, time flies,” she said, turning around behind her. The window to the outside was showing the sky in an orange tint. “I’m guessing you’ve never been to Nassau, have you?” she asked Max.

“No. I have heard stories about it.”

“Well,” she said as she stood up, walking over and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Prepare to witness it firsthand.”

*****

“Frank, come on.”

“Damon, I don’t understand. Why are we here?” he asked, disembarking onto the docks.

“Because, Frank, this place has what we need.”

“Where?”

“There’s tons of warehouses around here. That’s where the supplies are.”

“How the hell are we supposed to get everything back to the ship and out of here without being shot at? Just look at all the ships here.” He gestured at four different docked British frigates.

Damon grunted. “You’re thinking too much Frank. Look, there’s a tavern. He pointed at a building two streets away from the docks. “Get a drink. I’ll take care of it.”

He shrugged. “I won’t pass up a drink… wait,” he trailed off, his gaze turning to the other side of the port.

“What? What do you see?”

“Is that… Ben?” he asked, pointing to a group of five or six redcoats in the distance, surrounding a man in a navy colored jacket.

“What? Ben’s in Havana,” Damon said. He couldn’t get a clear view of who Frank was talking about, but he knew for a fact that it wasn’t Ben Hornigold. Ben Hornigold was in Havana, hassling for provisions there for Nassau.

“I know… but that looks like him,” he said, beginning to walk over.

Damon grabbed him by the collar. “No! Don’t… go over there. Just go to the bar.”

“But…” Frank began to protest.

“Look,” Damon said again. A group of women were walking into the tavern. “There’s your chance to get lucky.”

Frank looked at the door to the tavern, then back at the people on the docks. “Ah, fuck it,” he said, running off to the tavern.

Damon breathed a sigh of relief. “That was close,” he muttered before making his way over to the group of people Frank had just pointed out. Unlike him, who had permanently put Frank as first mate, Ben had never appointed one, at least to his knowledge. He also had his crew secretly switched out for British sailors months back, something he still had to do.

“Damon!”

“Ben, I told you to be discreet,” Damon lectured him through gritted teeth.

“I…” he stuttered, “I was discreet.”

“Well, I don’t believe for a damn second that Frank’s getting more observant.”

Hornigold straightened up. “He’s still alive, is he?”

Damon shrugged. “Not for much longer. At least until this meeting’s over.”

“We should get going. He’s probably waiting.”

“Let’s go.”

Ben gestured to the redcoats, and they were escorted through the city. The presence of the two pirates had turned many heads. The locals had no knowledge of their actual allegiance, and neither had their pirate allies.

Well, former allies.

Notes:

Unbeta’d.

Unlike my other works, I’m planning on having a semi-weekly update schedule. The election kinda fucked me over on how much writing I wanted to get done, but I’m back on track. Hopefully, if writers block and insecurities would kindly fuck off

Chapter 3: The Kingston Meet

Notes:

Not my best work. It’s slightly rushed, might go back later and change some things.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The British flag was flying on a pole outside the governor’s manor, a grand building situated on a hill overlooking the young port. The white siding of the manor still looked new, as if it were just a week old, not an entire decade.

Having reached their destination, the redcoats dispersed as the two pirates approached the stairs to the entrance.

Hornigold looked back down the street. “You sure Frank’s not going to come back?”

Damon stopped. “Ben. He’s in a tavern. With women. And he’s probably drunk by now. I can guarantee he’s not coming out anytime soon.”

As they began up the stairs, they were stopped by a British soldier, musket in hand.

“State your business here or leave. This is property owned by the British governor.”

“Did you not just see your buddies leaving you fat…”

“We have a meeting with the Admiral,” Hornigold said over him. He took out a crumpled piece of paper from his light blue jacket and handed it to the soldier.

The soldier took it with his free hand, glancing over the paper. He noticed the Admiral’s seal at the bottom. With evidence that it was real, he nodded, giving back the paper. “Follow me.”

Entering the inside, they were met with a chandelier hanging from the foyer, flanked on either side by winding staircases. The soldier led them up the stairs and to the left, leading them down a hallway. Portraits of various British noblemen were hung on both sides of the wall. He stopped at the third door on the left, the door creaking as he opened it.

“Admiral? You have visitors.”

“Send them in. Ah, you’re here,” Jefferson said, looking up from a table. “Drinks?”

“Money,” Damon demanded, leaning on the table. “I want my money.”

He put a hand up. “In time, Mr. Merrick. In time.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean? Am I getting my money or not?”

“You will… once the deal is finished. Your end of the bargain has been held up. I want mine to be as well. Now, Mr. Hornigold, is Nassau still vulnerable to attack?” he asked, cutting straight to the chase.

He nodded. “They’re low on food, and most of the pirate captains are away looking for some. I doubt whoever’s left will put up much of a fight.”

“Good. As previously discussed, you will lead a force to Nassau. I have provided three frigates and 180 men to take the island, as well as a brig to report your success to me here. Return the island to our control, and if you are successful…”

“When,” Hornigold corrected him.

Jefferson rolled his eyes. “When you are successful, you will receive a king’s pardon and the governorship of the island.”

He smirked. He would have more power and wealth than he would have ever gotten as a founder of the republic.

Jefferson then turned to face Damon. “Now, Mr. Merrick. Once word comes that Nassau is retaken, you will assist me in hunting down every last pirate in these waters. Then you will be paid. Five hundred pounds per, with an additional five thousand for Bluebeard’s head. I suppose you will be able to do it, considering you hunted down one before.”

“Bloody Bill,” he huffed. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Yes, I know. He was a good sailor. Such a shame he, as so many others, have decided to turn to this… way of living.”

The two pirates glanced at each other. They both took up piracy when hostilities with Spain ended. Some others decided to in years prior. But there was one reason they all defected to piracy. Freedom. Freedom on the open seas. Freedom from the monarchical rule. Not riches or bloodshed, but the ability to live however they choose. Unfortunately, the dreams of wealth and power can still corrupt the mind, and Damon and Hornigold were no exception.

Jefferson rose from his seat. “Follow me.”

They follow him back outside onto the porch to the right side of the manor, overlooking the port town to their left. The sun was setting, casting shadows along the roads. To their right, sugar plantations, the slaves turning into their small accommodations for the night.

“This is one of the most important ports we have here in the Caribbean,” he said, rambling. “This place flourished when the Spanish conflict ended, but now it’s in jeopardy, all thanks to pirates. If you succeed in ridding the vermin in Nassau, I can guarantee that you will be celebrated by all Englishmen from here to London. Do you see that ship?” he asked, pointing to one of the many docked vessels in the harbor.

“Which one?” Hornigold replied, scanning the harbor, not being able to discern the ship Jefferson was referring to.

“That one, at the farthest right, under construction.”

“Yeah. What’s so special about it?”

“What’s so special about it, Mr. Merrick is that that ship will soon be the prized vessel of the Royal Navy. Yes, the Valiant is sought after, but because of her grandeur. This one… this one is different. This is the ship that will strike fear into the hearts of sailors. No. We will show that these waters belong to the Crown, not to the pirates or Spaniards or Frenchmen.”

“When should we set sail?” Hornigold asked after a slight pause.

“Dawn. In the meantime, upgrades will be made to Mr. Merrick’s ship.”

“Speaking of, I need a new crew. There’s no way any of them would come back.”

“A regiment will be assembled to take care of them. Go back inside, we’ll discuss further.”

*****

The night provided cover for their plan. A shot would be fired in the dark, Damon would come running and grab his crew, leading them into a redcoat trap. After that, wait for news from Nassau and start hunting pirates.

As usual, the tavern was crowded with people. Sailors, merchants, and, of course, women. The smell of alcohol filled the air as people chatted, played cards, or some drunk seaman attempted to woo over some of the ladies.

Damon, in his loud fashion, kicked the doors open. All the noise stopped, everyone looking at them as if the King himself just walked through the doors.

“DAMoN!” a voice greeted them from the bar. Frank, clearly drunk, stood up from a stool and stumbled over to them, a rum bottle in hand. He threw his arms around him. “I’vE mISsEd yOu,” he slurred.

“I’ve been gone for an hour,” Damon said, holding out his arms from his sides, clearly uncomfortable with the affection Frank was showing him. “How much did you drink?”

Frank moved his hands to Damon’s shoulders before letting out a large breath no more than six inches from his face.

“What the… Jesus fuuck…” Damon said in disgust as the breath reached his nose, smelling of rum, fish, and something he couldn’t even begin to describe.

“Drinks for everyone!” Hornigold yelled as Damon started coughing, trying to divert attention away from them. “I’ll keep everyone here busy, you do what has to be done,” he whispered.

Damon glared at him out of the corner of his eye before flipping him the bird. Turning his attention back to Frank, he led the drunk out of the tavern and out into the main center of Kingston. The fresh air helped clear out Frank’s breath from his nose, though there still was a decent smell of rum.

“But…” he started to protest.

“You’ve had enough to drink,” Damon insisted, leading him down an alleyway a block away from the tavern. As promised, over a dozen redcoats were waiting.

“Hey, look, redcoats.”

Damon shoved him forward. Frank still had no clue what was going on.

They stepped to the side as Jefferson approached from behind. Seeing Frank, he unholstered a pistol before shooting him in the head. The drunk layed dead face down on the road, blood coming from his head.

“Get the rest of your crew. My men will be waiting at the docks for them.”

Damon nodded before running back to his ship. He felt no guilt at all.

“Hey! Hey!”

“What the hell… what?” one of the pirates asked, annoyed.

“They killed Frank!”

“What? Who?”

“Them! The British!”

“Hey snooze asses, the Englishmen here just killed Frank!”

That riled up his crew. Within minutes, they had gathered swords, pikes, and axes.

“We’ll give them what they deserve!” they yelled, stepping onto the docks.

Suddenly, the roaring of the pirates stopped. At least sixty redcoats were marching towards the docks. They stopped where the road met the docks, and the two sides stared down the other one.

Eventually, a majority of the pirates rushed the British while some stayed behind with muskets. The British used the same tactic, leaving some at the back with guns while others fought hand to hand. Soon, a thin line of smoke soon hung over them, and the usually quiet Kingston docks had turned into an all out brawl.

He waited for his men with the longarms to join the melee fight. After a minute, when only one of the pirates was still wielding a musket, he drew his own sword and approached the fight. He thrust it into the back of him, grabbing the musket before kicking the man off the steel blade. He fell down onto the ground, blood seeping from his stomach as he desparately tried to stop it with his hands. Damon aimed the gun at the back of the head and fired, no one suspecting anything.

Tossing the musket aside, he pulled out a flintlock and shot another in the neck, a large bearded man hacking away at the redcoats with a naval axe. He stumbled backwards, clutching the spot where the bullet went in, tripping over a dead body, which grabbed the attention of two other sailors. They looked at Damon, standing under a streetlight, still holding the pistol in his hand, not even trying to hide it.

“Traitor!” they yelled, rushing him.

He parried both cuts before kicking one in the stomach, thrusting the steel into the man’s throat. He twisted the blade before pulling it out to face the other one.

“Soft spot for the British, eh?” he spat.

“Nassau is dead,” he replied, blood running down the side of his cutlass. “Just like you will be.”

He deflected blow after blow, not even breaking a sweat. The sailor tried to jab at his stomach, but he moved away at the last second, making sure his foot would barely trip him. And it worked. He stumbled, giving Damon time to draw another pistol and put a bullet in his head. He fell off the docks and splashed into the water.

Holstering his gun, he turned to see the last few of who were his crewmembers being cut down by the British. Bodies of both sides piled on the docks, blood seeping through the wooden planks into the ocean below.

Jefferson approached, surveying the aftermath. He said nothing as he made his way to Damon, tossing him a small pouch.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, catching it.

“Your payment. This is one less pirate crew, five hundred pounds, as we agreed on.”

He looked at the contents inside. It was actually there. Five hundred fucking pounds. Sealing the pouch back up, he placed it in his coat pocket. “Now what?”

“As I said earlier, we will outfit your ship with better cannons, sails, and more armor while Hornigold is retrieving Nassau.” Jefferson said before turning and walking away.

He walked to the edge of the docks, the moonlight shining from a cloudless sky onto a calm ocean, taking out the pouch again and looking inside of it. He couldn’t believe it, and couldn’t wait for more.

Notes:

Hi. Sorry for the wait, burnout and writing insecurities are a pain in my ass. The fight scene was pretty epic to write though, expect more in the future.

 

Side note, if I’m being completely honest, I can’t promise a set updated schedule anymore, at least not with this fic. However, I WILL finish it, I swear. I just don’t know how long it’ll take.

Chapter 4: Welcome to Nassau - I

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The sun was setting as the Firewalk docked in Nassau’s port.

Chloe left the helm to talk with a few of her sailors before stepping onto the docks, waving for her to follow. “Come on, Max!”

She stuck close to her best friend, not wanting to attract any attention to herself. She remembered the way her crew had reacted when Chloe took her on board, though she had a say over them. Here, if they discovered she sailed under the British flag, and if what she had been told by her fellow sailors was correct, Chloe wouldn’t be able to stop them.

“Chloe! You’re back.”

Looking to where the voice came from, she saw a pirate dressed in all black approaching them. She reckoned he ran, or helped run, the island, not only because of how he dressed, but how he was armed. Like Chloe, dual swords, but carried an extra two pistols holstered on his chest. She also noticed the hilts were accented in gold, unsure of where they would have been acquired.

Chloe smiled. “You thought I wouldn’t be?”

“Pfft. I wouldn’t be surprised if you went head on into the Bloody Navy and came out alive. I take it you’ve finally found a first mate?” He pointed at her.

Chloe glanced at her. “First… mate? Actually, yeah… uh… well… kinda. Maybe. So anything change around here?” she finally sputtered out, sounding desperate to change the subject.

“Nope. Thatch hasn’t returned from Charleston, Hornigold, I’m assuming, is still fucking around in Havana, Frank and Damon are still out there, and Vane, being the stupid bastard that he is, is probably drunk at the wheel somewhere.”

They didn’t notice, but Max sighed after the pirate had mentioned all their names.

Chloe let out a laugh. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he actually is.”

“Heh. Oh! So,” he began as if a light went off in his head. “The Valiant. I take it that went well?”

“Yeah, about that. I don’t know who gave you that information, but either they’re trying to screw you or they’re being screwed by the British. It was a fucking waste.”

He crossed his arms. “That can’t be. I was specifically told that the Valiant was carrying cargo.”

“Useless cargo is what they didn’t tell you. All just wood, rigging, and sails.”

“And what the hell” -he gestured with a hand to the docks- “is being unloaded then?”

“We came across a Spanish brig and that one kid negotiated with them.”

“Least you didn’t come back empty handed.” He turned around, Chloe following with Max trailing behind her, walking through the main street of the town.

Max could make out bits of their conversation, but her focus was on the pirate haven. Parts of what she was told were true, and others weren’t. It was filled with pirates, though hardly any of them were as rowdy as her fellow sailors made them out to be. Save for the two drunks outside of what she assumed was the tavern and the group beside them singing a shanty, it was quiet. She picked up her pace, walking beside Chloe, who was discussing the provision shortage with the man.

“You think all that’s gonna last?”

“It better. Hopefully Thatch will…”

The man was interrupted by a fellow pirate running down the center of the street, holding a bottle filled with something over his head, yelling, “I got a jar of dirt! I got a jar of dirt!”

“...come back soon. Graham!” he yelled to someone chasing after him.

The kid stopped, breathing heavily. “Captain?”

“Did he get into the rum storage again?”

“Aye. He’s a slippery bastard. He comes out of the tavern and shouts, ‘Why is the rum gone’ before making a b-line towards the storage.”

Shouting came down the street, their attention turning to the same pirate, who was now standing on top of one of the house’s roofs. He held the jar over his head. “Ay, you slimy gits! Look what I got!”

“He’s gonna do something stupid. Jack!” Graham yelled as he ran off. “Get down from there!”

“See? Hasn’t changed a bit. I’ll take care of whatever the hell he’s doing. “And you” -he put a hand on Max’s shoulder- “welcome to Nassau,” he said before chasing after the others.

“Wait, what’d you want?” Chloe called after him.

“Not important! Tomorrow morning! Villa!”

Shrugging, Chloe grabbed her hand. “Come on Max.”

“But… what about…” she pointed down the street.

“They’re fine. Let’s go.”

Chloe led her to a beach on the northern side of the island through a wooded area to the west of the town.

“Are there really a thousand pirates here?” Max asked, looking back through the forest. The town didn’t seem to have the infrastructure for half the amount, let alone provisions and whatnot.

“Possibly. Reason number five why I have my place out here.”

“Reason number five?”

“I dunno, dude. Just the first number that came to mind. Anyway, welcome to my home away from home.”

Max looked around. It was a beach. The trees behind them blew in the wind as the waves repeated the process of splashing onto the sand and receding. Not too far away from the shoreline did she spot a pile of logs surrounded by small stones, making what she assumed was a campfire, and to the right of it, a hideous gathering of washed wood arranged into four rickety walls and a pointed roof.

She suddenly had a jacket shoved into her arms. “Max, do you mind putting this in there?” Chloe asked, pointing to the shack.

Max stared at it, then looked at her. “You mean, ‘The Shack of Inevitable Collapse’?”

Chloe ruffled her hair. “Very funny, Maxi,” she responded before strolling over to the campfire.

The door creaked open to reveal the inside of the shack. She stepped into the doorway, though she couldn’t see much with the lack of natural light. A brief but strong gust of wind suddenly hit the door into her back, causing her to drop Chloe’s jacket. When she picked it up, she noticed a long, skinny item had fallen out of it. Hanging the jacket on the inside doorknob, she closed the door and walked back over to her, who had successfully started a small fire. “Hey, Chloe, this fell out of your…”

She looked up, only to immediately scramble over to her. “Hey, give me that!”

“...jacket,” she finished as Chloe jerked it from her hand. “Sorry… it… must be special.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” She sat down and stared off into the ocean.

Max swore she had seen something like it recently. Then it came back to her. “That was in that painting of the girl you had on the wall of your cabin.” She sat down next to her.

Chloe kept staring off. “You noticed.”

“So… who is she?”

“If you were around in Charleston, you would’ve known,” Chloe snarked before immediately apologizing. “Sorry, Max. It’s just… she…” She hung her head before exhaling. “She was my angel. Rachel Amber. She’s the reason I’m here. I doubt I would’ve come out of Charleston alive it’d it weren’t for her.”

“Sounds like she had your back.”

“No shit. We were gonna kick the world’s ass.” A small smile came across her face. “You wouldn’t have believed it, though. We were complete opposites. But opposites attract… or something.”

She was right; Rachel did look like someone Chloe would have avoided, from her clean blond hair, to her teal colored dress, and the few pieces of jewelry she wore around her neck. “Looks like her family had money.”

“Well, her dad was the governor of South Carolina, so… can you get me a thing of rum? There should be some in a crate under the bed in there.”

“Chloe… are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just need something to wash everything away.”

Noticing a candle sticking out of the sand next to her, she lit the candle from the fireplace and illuminated the inside of the shack. It wasn’t as ugly as on the outside, but still messy. Taking Chloe’s jacket, she laid it over the back of the chair before placing the candle on the holder on her desk. Papers and ink littered the entire top, and though she wanted to straighten it up, she wasn’t sure how Chloe would react. Turning to the bed on her left, she knelt down and, as Chloe said, pulled out a crate with half a dozen rum bottles, plus a leather bound book. Grabbing the candle holder, she placed it next to her as she opened it, her curiosity taking over. Flipping to a random page, some of the ink was smeared, though she could make out most of it.

Coast of Atlantic, 171
Bound for Charleston. Leaving New York for good. Fucking bullshit. First Max leaves, then dad, and mom thinks it just fine to arrange me to marry some rich fuck? No thank you.

With the rest of the ink smeared, she flipped forward a few pages to another entry.

Charleston, 1 1
Finally arrived. Maybe I’ll find some work here, maybe I’ll go and get into a fight at the bar. Not that anyone will care. Max is gone, Dad is gone. Mom doesn’t give a shit. Why should I

Remembering what Chloe had mentioned briefly back in the Firewalk’s cabin, and with what she just read, the guilt came rushing back to her. So much Chloe went through; so much she wasn’t there for. She wished she could go back in time and make things right.

“Max!”

Unfortunately, she couldn’t rewind time. What was I here for… oh, right. Her rum. Grabbing a bottle with one hand and the candle in the other, she closed the shack door and returned to Chloe.

“What took you so long, Max? Enjoying my rum without me?”

“I told you, I don’t drink,” she responded, handing over the bottle.

She snatched the bottle and took a sip. “Your loss, then.”

Taking a seat not too far from her, the ambience from the crashing waves and swaying trees fell over them as Chloe continued to drink. As they sat in silence, she felt herself growing tired. It had been a crazy fucking couple of hours. She still needed some time to process everything, though she knew that she didn’t have as much time as she would’ve liked. She repositioned herself onto the sand and slouched against the stump she had just previously been sitting on, and slowly started to nod off.

*****

 

The sounds of chirping birds reached her ears as she slowly woke up. The campfire had faded away over the night, leaving behind only a faint, rising trail of steam into the air. Looking to her right was Chloe, hunched over the log she was sitting on, arms dangling in front of her. Typical Chloe, she thought to herself, looking to her right to see where the sun was. Not that high, but high enough to tell her it was mid-morning. She didn’t focus too much on the sun, though, as something else caught her eye. A single, long, dark tentacle laid limp on the beach, a few meters away from where they were seated.

“Hey… Chloe?” Max asked, leaning over and shaking her shoulder.

Chloe stirred. “Hmm?”

“What is that?”

“What is what…” She raised her head and turned her half closed eyes to where Max was pointing. “What the hell?” Tossing the rum bottle aside, Chloe used an arm to help herself onto her feet and shuffled towards it.

“You’re not thinking of touching it… are you?” Max asked.

Chloe turned back around. “Of course not.” She drew her sword and raised her arm. “I have this.”

“Chloe, I don’t think it’s a good idea…” Too late, as Chloe bent over and lightly jabbed at it. “...to poke it.”

She sheathed her sword. “Calm yourself, Caulfield. It’s… not… here anymore.”

Max got up from the campfire and began walking over to her. About halfway, something shook from the ocean, waves rippling onto the shore, and she thought she heard a distant roar.

Chloe had heard it too. She turned back around, grabbed her by the arm, and led her to the path back towards the town, muttering, “Nope, nope, nope.”

Notes:

Hi. Been a while. My pirate kick has come back for now.

Chapter 5: Welcome to Nassau - II

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chloe continued to inaudibly ramble as she led Max back to the town and over to a grand white villa. She opened a side door where they were met with the pirate that had greeted them back at the docks the previous day. Chloe had said something to him, which caused him to wave his arm to them to follow as she recounted what had just gone down at the beach.

“Okay, Price,” the pirate said when she was done, “for the last fucking time. There are no monsters out there. Just. Fish. Nothing else.”

“Say what you want, I know what I heard.”

“Aha!” he shouted, pointing a finger at her as his voice echoed throughout the otherwise quiet hallway. “You ‘heard’! You didn’t actually see anything, did you?”

“Well… not this time, but I told you what I saw with the Torment.”

“You did, and I still don’t believe you. Unless I see it with my own eyes, it’s not out there.” The pirate opened a pair of white ornate doors, revealing to them a glamorous room that made Max feel like she was back in some elite English manor. “Now, you wanna know what I wanted or are you going to continue harking on this?”

“No,” she groaned. “What is it?”

“Sit down. Both of you.” He motioned to a pair of chairs at the far end of the room before strolling to a desk that was positioned in front of them.

She looked at Chloe, confused as to why they were there.

“Go, Max. It’s fine.”

She took a seat in one of the chairs, still having no idea what was going on. Chloe sat down next to her.

“So I’ll get right to the point,” the pirate began, looking straight at her, “we’re hanging by a thread here. Food here’s running low, and all the others that help run this place are out there looking for some. I need more help around here. Which brings me to what I wanted. I don’t know where Price found you, and, frankly, I don’t care as long as you answer this question: can I trust you?”

She took a few seconds to absorb what was just said to her before answering. “Yes.”

The pirate turned to Chloe. “Price, can I trust him?”

She responded without hesitation. “Her. Yes.”

The pirate nodded. “Noted. Okay. Now, I want both of you to head up to the fort.”

“What for?” Chloe asked.

“My ship’s cannons are starting to wear, and since we’ve never touched anything in the fort, there’s gotta be something useful up there. Cannons, specifically, but if you find anything else, by all means. I’d do it myself, but…” He motioned around to the quiet, empty room. “I have no other help on the island.”

“Oh. Well, we can do it. Right, Max?”

“Uh… sure,” she answered reluctantly.

“Thank you. If and when you find cannons or whatever, come back here and I’ll get a crew on moving them out. Now go away. I have things to do.”

“Care to fill me in, Chloe?” Max asked as they left the room and walked back through the hallway.

“On what?”

“I don’t know. Everything, I guess. Who was that anyway?”

“Well, he calls himself ‘The Hunter’. Why? We don’t really know. Or I don’t, at least. He’s one of the leaders around here, keeps things running smoothly and all. Ask Thatch if you want.”

“T-Thatch? I’m good.”

“Suit yourself. But as he said, we’re low on supplies, if you haven’t seen already. A couple of the others, Vane, Hornigold, whoever else, are out looking for some. I was too, until… well..”

“Yeah,” Max said, their footsteps echoing through the hall. “What was with all that fancy furniture back in that room? I didn’t think you guys like that sort of stuff.”

“Max, once you get used to our way of living, you’ll see we’re a lot different than you think. Besides, that’s kind of our planning room. Where we give tasks for the month and shit like that.”

She did recall seeing a table with a map of the Caribbean sprawled out on it. “You mean like planning raids and that?

“I guess so, yeah.” Chloe opened the same door they used to enter and opened it, letting it shut behind them when they were outside. “Anyway, remember that thing from this morning?”

“The thing you poked with your sword? Yeah, why?”

“Did you see anything… weird… during your sailing over here from England? It was England, right?”

“No. And yes. Wait. No, I didn’t notice anything weird, and yes, I was coming from England. Why?”

Well… I might’ve seen it before. Something happened… a while ago. That’s why I wanted to tell him. He still won’t fucking believe me.”

“You’ve seen it before? Did you tell him?”

“Yes. I brought it up… four separate times. Got the same answer each time.” Chloe sighed. “I still remember seeing it for the first time. It won’t leave my head.”

“What happened?”

“I…” Chloe began, but she stopped herself. Max got the impression that she was holding back information. “It was… a freak of nature. I shouldn’t have even brought it up. Let’s just get this done.”

She stopped in her tracks as Chloe went on, not even noticing. She recalled their conversation last night at the shack, wondering, even though a longshot, if the tentacle thing and Rachel were connected somehow. She wanted to know more, but Chloe wouldn’t open up. Of course she wouldn’t, but maybe with time. Coming back to the present, Chloe had gotten farther than she thought, and she raced to catch up with her.

They walked through the center of the town without saying a word, their boots crunching against the grainy sand. It was livelier than the previous evening, thanks in part to the drunks at the tavern. The docks were bustling with the crews of the two docked ships, loading and unloading various goods. Coming up to the shoreline, they ascended a small hill along a path up to the fort.

“This is Fort Nassau,” Max commented as they approached the entrance, “this thing fended off a lot of attacks, pirates and Spaniard. At least, that’s what I was told about this place before, you know, you guys took over,” she explained when Chloe gave her a strange look.

“I don’t doubt that. Hmm. ‘Fort Nassau’. Why is every single named thing boring? ‘Kingston’. ‘Charleston’. Why can’t it be spiced up a bit with something like… I dunno… ‘Fucknutsville’?”

She grinned a little at that. “Really? ‘Fucknutsville’?”

“Hey, it’s different. And funny.”

“You’re not wrong on that,” Max said as she grabbed one of the hanging rings that acted as a doorknob and pulled it. The door didn’t budge.

Chloe gently moved her aside. “Max, your scrawny ass won’t be able to open it,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Hey! I held my own against you, didn’t I? Chloe?”

She wasn’t paying attention; her attempts at opening the door were in vain too, though she decided to add in a little bit of color commentary. “Stupid fucking piece of fucking shit! Open you goddamn door! Argh!” she yelled, giving it a kick before turning around. “You needed something, Max?”

“ ...not anymore, no. You guys have held the island for how many years now and never cared to open up the fort?”

“Uh… it looks like it, yeah.”

“So… how are we going to get it open?”

“That is a very good question… actually, I have an idea. Wait here.” Chloe ran back down into town and came back a few minutes later with a musket and cannonball.

“I’m worried about this idea of yours.”

“I’m very responsible. You know that Max,” Chloe said with a smile as she placed the cannonball down in front of the doors.

“Shooting a cannonball is your idea of responsibility?”

Carcass,” Chloe corrected her. “And yes, as long as the little bugger doesn’t roll away, we’re fine. Care to do the honors?” she asked, handing her the musket and cartridge.

“Sure thing.” She took the musket from Chloe’s hand and went through the tedious process of loading it, repeating the steps in her head as she did them. Tear the cartridge. Load the cartridge. Draw the rammer. Ram the cartridge. Return the rammer. Cock the hammer. Once the musket was loaded, she knelt down and aimed at the explosive Chloe had set in front of the doors, and pulled the trigger.

To her surprise, Chloe’s idea had actually worked; the explosion caused the doors to fall forward, allowing them access to the fort.

“See, Max? Told you it would… holy shit,” Chloe said, astonished as they entered.

The fort itself had definitely seen better days. The southern side had partially fallen, and the rest of the walls looked like they were on the verge of crumbling. However, the fort itself wasn’t what they came for. They came for the goodies, and the place was filled with them. A trio of mortars greeted them in the center of the courtyard, with ammunition still stacked beside them. Cannons lined the upper walls of the fortress, overlooking the northeastern side of the surrounding waters. Racks of muskets were lined up against the entrance wall. Max guessed more cannons and equipment were stored inside. Chloe had seen the racks of muskets too, as she was currently heading towards them.

“Chloe!” Max called out to her as she followed behind.

“Dude, look at all these!” Chloe exclaimed, grabbing one. “We could arm the entirety of the island now!”

“Be careful with these,” Max warned.

“Aw, come on, Max. These aren’t even loaded… woah! Look at those!” She threw the musket and went running to the center of the courtyard.

Max scrambled to catch the firearm her best friend had carelessly tossed aside while still carrying the one she brought up to the fort, putting the one she threw back in its place and leaned the other one against the wall before tailing her over to the mortars.

“The Firewalk needs a better mortar,” Chloe remarked, patting each of the three artillery pieces. “I bet we could rain hell on the seas with one of these babies installed. How’s that sound, Max?”

…at least she seems happy… wait, did she want something? “Huh?” she blurted out, snapping back from staring into space.

“I’ll take that as a yes, Max. Yo! 32-pounders!” she exclaimed, running to the steps that led towards the upper bastion.

“Chlo-” Max began, groaning the rest of her name before trudging after her.

*****

 

The ordeal of ‘Chloe jumping all over the place while Max followed from behind’ lasted for another hour. And by jumping all over the place, she was literally jumping all over the place. Her attention span, at least. She went inside the fort, came back out, went back in, back out, so much that eventually Max gave up tailing her and decided just to let her run around, sitting against one of the mortars, waiting for her to finish.

“Are you finally done?” she asked when Chloe sat down next to her.

“Wow, you’re a party pooper, aren’t you? Making friends with the big boys I see.”

“Ha ha. Did you find anything else of interest on your little escapade?”

“If you followed me, you’d know… teasing, Max. Yeah, you wouldn’t believe all the shit that’s stored here. There’s tons of cannonballs stored inside and a couple 24-pounders on top of the 32’s. I don’t know why we didn’t open this place up before.”

Max just nodded. “So… should we go back down there and tell him what we found?”

“Probably. Come on.”

*****

 

They returned to the villa, where Hunter thanked them before enlisting their help in moving the ordnance from the fort down to the docks. Though he had got the crews of both his ship and the Firewalk to help out, there was more there than she thought, and it took another two hours to get everything moved and fitted onto each of the respective ships. Hunter’s ship, which she learned he had named the Devil’s Wrath, received 18 new cannon replacements, 16 were the 32-pounders Chloe had set her eyes on, and the other two were 24-pounder chase guns. The Firewalk received 8 new 24-pounders and a new mortar, thanks to Chloe’s constant pleading.

When everything was finished, her and Chloe were sitting inside the captain’s cabin of the Firewalk, finishing a meal of dried meats, biscuits, and, of course, rum.

“I’m surprised you helped roll those things down here, Max,” Chloe remarked, her feet kicked up on her desk, rum bottle in hand. “You certainly got stronger over the last five years.”

She nibbled on her crumby, flour-based product. “Thanks… I kinda had to if I wanted to join the Royal Navy.”

Chloe set the empty bottle on the desk. “I get that. Is this life better than that one?”

She hadn’t really thought about it. “I… I guess so. I mean, I do like the fact that you can sail pretty much anywhere, whenever you want.”

“See? Told you you’d start getting used to the life. Now, I-”

A knock on the doors interrupted her.

“Yeah?” she called.

A head poked in. “Sorry to bother you, Captain, but when do you think we’re gonna be settin’ sail soon? The crew’s gettin’ ancy.”

“Couple days, maybe? I need to take care of a few things.”

With a nod, the pirate closed the door.

“What do you need to take care of?” Max asked as Chloe walked over to her sword barrel.

“Well,” she began, pulling out a sword in its scabbard, “every ship needs a first mate, and I’ve been without one for a while… and… I want you to be mine.”

She stood up as Chloe handed her the sword. “Are you cereal? Chloe, I…”

“I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer, Max.”

She drew the sword and examined it, a little skull and bones etched into the side of the black scabbard. The hilt itself was a shiny silver while the blade appeared to have never been used. “I… I can’t use this, Chloe. It looks new.”

Chloe shrugged. “Glad it does. I’ve had it for years. Was the sword I had after I became a pirate. I want it to mean the same thing for you, too. Hey, it’s been sitting for a while, anyways. I’ll trade you your British one for that one. Deal?”

Max removed her British sword without hesitation. “Yes, of course! Thank you… this thing is… sweet.”

“If you think it’s cool now, wait’ll you see it swing. The baby’s a monster. Come on, I want to show you something else.” Chloe opened the cabin doors and stepped onto the docks.

“More stuff? Chloe, this is plenty.”

“No, not now, Max. You’ll get a new pistol later. Come on, just follow me.”

She followed her back through the path through the woods, arriving back at the campfire and Chloe’s shack. “Why are we back here?”

“You’ll see. Just walk to the shore.”

She did as she was told. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Just hold on. Okay, turn around.”

“Yea… whoa!” she exclaimed, having just enough time to raise her sword as Chloe brought hers swinging down, blocking the strike as she staggered back. “What was that for?”

“Rule number one. Always be on alert,” Chloe said, smiling. She pointed her cutlass at her. “A first mate has to learn these things, no? C’mon Caulfield. Let’s see what you got.”

She smirked back as she got into a defensive stance, holding her new sword with both hands, her fingers gripping the hilt. “Deal.”

Notes:

Why this chapter couldn’t write itself is beyond me. At least the next one is kinda-sorta-halfway finished... I’ll get back to writing now.

Oh yeah, two things:

1. Here’s where I got the steps for loading the musket if you wanna check it out- https://acws.co.uk/gilhams/gilharm8.htm

2. Yes, carcass is the right name for it. If you don’t believe me, here- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carcass_(projectile)

Chapter 6: Memories

Chapter Text

It had been a day and a half since Chloe bestowed the title of first mate onto her, and she was still adamant on improving her sword fighting skills. “Come on Max!” Chloe yelled as she attempted to land a blow from the left side. “Is that the best you got?”

She parried before copying her exact move. “Is that the best you got?”

Chloe blocked Max’s attack before stumbling a few steps back. She regained her footing, pulling her bandana over her face. “Oh-ho, it’s on now. Prepare to face the wrath of the mighty Bluebeard!” she shouted, unsheathing her other sword before charging.

Max rolled her eyes at Chloe’s antics as she raised her sword over her head, blocking a blow from above. Just like their first fight at the helm of the Chrysalis, they both stood their ground, as fierce as ever. Max, however, had an edge over her best friend. Since Chloe had trained her near the shack, she used her surroundings to her advantage, and was about to again.

She had positioned herself right in front of a small but firm piece of wood jutting out of the sand, relying on the fact that Chloe wouldn’t notice. And as it turned out, she was right. Chloe jabbed with her right sword. Max swatted it away before sidestepping to the left while Chloe lunged with her left. Taken by surprise by the motion, Chloe quickly spun around, not paying attention to her footing, her right heel caught on the wood, flinging her backwards, one of her swords flying out of her hand behind her. As she scrambled to regain her balance, Max made her move, swinging left and right, sending Chloe into defensive mode as she tried to deflect each incoming blow with only one sword. stood over her, sword a few inches away from her throat, keeping her from trying to get up.

“How’s that?” Max asked.

Chloe let go of her other sword and raised her hands in surrender. “Not bad, Max. Can I get up?”

“What do you mean 'not bad’?” she asked, returning her sword to its scabbard.

“You’re getting there,” she said, walking over to the sword she dropped. “But I don’t think these are doing much for you. You need a real challenge. How ‘bout going up against Thatch when he gets back?”

Her face dropped. “Huh?”

“Never mind. Actually, I take it back. You’ve gotten there and then some. All that’s left is for you to learn to wield double swords, really let out your fierce fighting. Ah, I need to sit down.”

Chloe sat down at the campfire. Max followed. “I… don’t think ‘fierce’ is the right-”

Chloe leveled a finger at her. “Stop it, Max. Hell, it’s an understatement. Remember our fight on the deck of your ship? You think any other captain would’ve lasted that long?”

“Uh…”

“I’ll answer it for you. No. I wanted you as my first mate for a reason.” A small grin came across her face. “You know, you remind me of Rachel when we were on the seas together. She was… ugh.” The smile dissipated as she hung her head.

“Chloe?” Max asked, placing a hand on her shoulder, “what happened to Rachel?”

“Something,” she said bluntly, shaking her head. Sitting in silence for a few minutes, Chloe eventually opened her mouth.

*****

 

“Fire!” Chloe commands her crew.

The Firewalk broadsides the mighty HMS Torment, which quickly returns the favor. Cannonballs crack against the siding of both ships, wood splinters flying. With Chloe at the helm, she turns the ship’s wheel port side, bringing the ship closer to the British frigate.

“We can board them!” Rachel shouts.

“Working on it, Rach,” Chloe responds, leading the Firewalk against the starboard side. “Grapple the bastards! Let’s reel ‘em in!”

Her crew hooks the vessel and pulls it closer. Chloe draws her sword, raising it to the sun, slightly covered by a haze of cannon smoke. “Alright! Let’s board the bastards!”

Cheers erupt from the crew as they jump onto the hazy deck of the British ship, her and Rachel leading the charge. Rachel headed for the helm while she fought with the rest of their crew. Wielding two blood-soaked blades of death, she cuts down redcoat after redcoat.

Eventually, the British numbers started to wear thin on the main deck, and they began to lay down their weapons to cheers from the pirate crew.

A flintlock fires from the aft, piercing the victorious attitude of the pirates and drawing their attention. The frigate’s captain stumbles down the stairs of the helm, clutching the left side of his midsection. Despite his condition, he seemed to be smiling as Rachel jumped from the helm and stood over him, pistol aimed at his head.

Sheathing her swords, Chloe makes her way to the commotion, hearing the captain taunt Rachel, though she is unaware of what started it.

“Oh… now don’t go blaming me. I’m just… the messenger,” he says to her between coughs. “Why don’t you… go and see… for yourself… if he’ll even… look at you, that is.”

She watched as each of the words hit Rachel, sending her over her boiling point as she squeezed the trigger of her pistol, putting a shot into his neck. Returning it to her side holster, she looks at Chloe before addressing the crew, “Burn the ship and leave it! Then loosen the sails and set course for Charleston!” She returned to the Firewalk without another word, leaving the captain to bleed out on the deck.

The Firewalk soon sails away from the battered Torment, heading west for the Carolinas.

With the destination set, Chloe leaves the wheel and turns behind her to face Rachel, standing at the edge of the poop deck, staring at the flaming ship about a quarter mile away.

“R-Rachel?” Chloe asks. “What happened?”

For a while, she said nothing before bitterly proclaiming, “I want Charleston to burn.”

Chloe walks by her side, looking at her. Her blond hair and blue earring are blowing in the wind, the sun illuminating her face, which slowly begins to be covered by a wall of clouds. They stand in silence as they stare back out at the water, the only noise coming from the wind and sea.

“Captain!” a lookout calls from the rigging, interrupting the silence, “we’ve got some rough waters ahead. Looks like a storm’s coming.”

“Hm,” Chloe muttered, looking up at the sky. Storm clouds were approaching, which was odd, considering the sky was clear mere minutes ago. “Come on,” she says to Rachel as she returns to grab the wheel, “I’m going to need my first mate for this.” She begins to bark orders to her crew.

Rachel slowly starts to back away from the edge before she returns, kicking a barrel off the ship.

She screams. A clap of thunder booms overhead.

Startled, Chloe looks to Rachel before her gaze is attracted to the Torment. A bolt of lightning hits the ship. Then she sees it.

Still about a mile away, a head followed by eight tentacles emerge from the ocean, darkened by the lack of sunlight. The tentacles grab hold of the Torment, lifting the ship straight up out of the water, breaking it in half. Another crack of lightning lights up the sky. And with a thunderous roar, the creature disappears into the depths of the ocean, taking the flaming British frigate with it.

All within a matter of seconds.

*****

 

Chloe sighed. “That’s when I first saw it. And I know for a fact I’ve seen it since.”

“Wow,” was all Max responded with, taking in everything Chloe had just told her. “What made her… go off like that?”

“She… she didn’t say. Something about her dad, but that was all. And… after what happened with the Torment,” Chloe continued, “Rachel wanted to go back to Charleston, but we made a stop in Havana to resupply. We went into a tavern while the crew was loading the ship and overheard a couple of Spaniards talking about some place called Santa Monica. Something about it being a ‘city of angels,’ a paradise… or something like that. At the time, it sounded good to us, and we agreed that was our goal. Set Charleston ablaze and then head out for that Spanish haven, wherever it was.”

Max met Chloe’s gaze, but she quickly looked away.

“I should’ve fucking said no,” she said. “‘Let’s just go. Leave all this behind and search for it.’ But I didn’t. Instead, we got the shitshow that went down in Charleston. The fuckers… Rachel… they…”

She got the message. “Oh, Chloe… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s my fucking fault. I let her go into town on her own. I sailed the ship away from the port. I left her there.” She buried her head in her hands.

Not knowing what to say, Max scooched closer to her on the log and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Chloe felt tense at first, but she seemed to be naturally easing into it.

“I… I’m glad you’re back in my life, Max.” She brought her head up and smiled, placing a hand on her knee, and Max moved her arm to give her thumb access to the pirate’s cheek, wiping a tear from it.

The crack of a mortar suddenly filled the sky, startling the two. A bell rang from the town not long after.

“Oh no,” Chloe said, getting to her feet.

“What does it mean?” Max asked, rising as well.

“Something’s happening. And whatever it is, it isn’t good. Come on!”

Notes:

Well look at that- it’s not historically accurate.

Inspiration Links-
Pirates of the Caribbean 10 hours
All AC IV shanties

As always, comments/critiques are more than welcome.