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One more song! One more song!
I stand on the quarterdeck looking down at the crew, and they're all cheering, chanting, demanding to be entertained. Amazing what having your leg shot off can do. Not long ago, they tried to throw me overboard. Now they call me their unicorn.
I've got one more song!
Funny thing about unicorns: people think of them as sweet, fairy-airy sort of creatures. But really - well, mythically, because they're not fucking real - they're wild animals with beards who'd gore you soon as look at you. Unless you're a maiden, of course. If you're a maiden, they lie down and lay their head in your lap. Daft drivel. I suppose it's the set-up for a joke about the scarcity of maidens, as in virgins. Well, we're pretty short of maidens on the Revenge. I can't see Jim or Archie standing for it if you called them that - no fucking way!
One more song! One more song!
OK, then.
Now, the shark has great big gnashers,
And you'd better watch your leg;
But the sharks watch out for Blackbeard
When he blows his powder keg.
Someone sang a version of this in the same bar where I first heard La vie en rose. It couldn't be more different - from romantic and sincere to dark and cynical - but it's a fucking banger, and a chance to show off my range. Plus it fits in with a plan I've been brewing.
Well, the English talk a good game,
And they say they're not afeared.
But they turn tail when they notice
The explosives in his beard.
They weren't really explosives, even Ed's not that fucking crazy, but he had a phase of putting tapers in his beard, and setting them on fire as we launched a raid. Have to admit, he looked terrifying with smoke all round his head...
When the Spanish had us cornered
And we looked like easy prey,
He just faked a fucking lighthouse
And the Spanish sailed away.
The original's nastier. About some guy called... Mac? Mackie? who's done some bad things. And so has Ed. Apart from the torture and all he did to me and the Revenge crew, no one seems to remember he killed most of the new crew with his fucking psycho act in the storm. Washed overboard, all except Archie, and no one mentions them any more. Still, it's time to move on - turn the poison into positivity, Bonnet keeps saying. All very well for someone who never drank the fucking poison, but yeah, I've forgiven Ed. He said he was sorry - not when he did that so-called apology in front of the crew, but this morning. He just said "Sorry about your leg" - no big fuss, but I wouldn't have liked a big fuss. It was all I wanted from him, saying sorry of his own accord without Bonnet feeding him fancy lines about... space ships.
Then some posh twats held a party
And they laughed and called him names,
But they didn't find it funny
When their ship went up in flames.
Ed always said it was Bonnet who was behind that, but I never got to the bottom of it. Now Spriggs is waving his hand - what's that about? Oh, he wants to join in? I wave back to signal he can sing, and he takes up the tune:
So we've been to sea with Blackbeard,
And he's often quite a dick,
So thank god he's got a Bonnet,
That looks dandy on his prick.
There's a lot of laughter at that. And Edward hasn't come back from checking up on Bonnet, so maybe he's right...
But never mind that, it's all fucking grist to the mill of my plan. After they cut my leg off, I was passing in and out, but I remember Jim's voice saying something like "He's a dick, but he's our dick." If I can get them that far with Ed, they'll come the rest of the way soon. Same as they did with me: look how they're in the palm of my hand now.
So I reply with my last verse:
Some day soon, we'll all be goners,
Sitting on the dead man's chest.
But till then we'll all remember
We were pirates with the best.
Because they will, won't they? However long they have, they'll be boasting that they sailed with the greatest fucking pirate who ever lived. Meantime, they cheer the song, whooping and clapping, they like it; I knew it was a crowd-pleaser.
The party goes on, though it's slowed down now. Olu Boodhari climbs up to the quarterdeck to bring me a drink. And then he stays. We're quiet for a while, just swigging our rum, and then maybe he's finding the silence uncomfortable, so he starts making conversation.
"Nice party," he offers. Then he laughs, awkwardly. "I mean... apart from the bit where we got tied up and tortured by Ned Low."
I shrug. "Livened things up, I thought."
"Still... the cap'n did well to get us out of that, didn't he?"
I admit Bonnet's fancy talk paid off for once, but it still feels weird saying nice things about him, so I grunt and go back to what I said to Ed earlier.
"First kill's a mind-fuck."
He nods. "Yeah... Stede really struggled with it. But Ned Low wasn't his first. That was Nigel Badminton."
I raise my eyebrows. "The brother? Bonnet actually did that? I thought Chauncey Badminton just picked on him for some sick revenge fantasy. Fucking monomaniac toff."
"Yes, he actually did. I don't think he meant to - just tried to knock him out. But he hit him, and Badminton ended up dead. Suppose Stede didn't know his own strength. And it was a mind-fuck, like you say, he went on and on about being a murderer, but we've all been through so much since... Don't think he'll be like that about Ned Low."
"So... what you're telling me" - more gently than anyone else on board would have done - "is that that isn't the reason why Ed's still in Bonnet's cabin."
"Um. No. Probably not." He looks at me nervously.
I sniff. "Don't know what took 'em so long."
Boodhari smiles in relief. "You're OK with it, then?"
"Yeah. You weren't here when Ed went totally batshit. Fuck knows why, but he needs that twat to balance him."
He nods, and I gesture at Jim and Archie, snogging on the main deck.
"And yourself... you OK?"
"Yeah... yeah, I think so. Jim and I... we'll always love each other, but, you know, we'd just got together, we hadn't quite worked out what we were. And then we were apart all that time, and they met Archie, and I..." He smiles sheepishly. "I met someone too."
"Oh? Who was that, then?"
"Her name's Zheng."
"What, Zheng Yi Sao? The fucking Pirate Queen? The one who was going to kill me, and Jim, and all the rest?"
He looks embarrassed. "Um, yes, that one. That was why I left. Didn't like the idea of my friends being killed." He sighs. "I'm worried about her, though."
"Because?"
"There's a woman on her ship - her First Mate, I suppose. Zheng calls her Auntie."
I remember her, too. She was the one egging on her captain to execute us.
"She's very hard on Zheng," says Boodhari. "Like, she holds her to a tough standard - never gives her a break. Zheng really needs a break. That's what she saw in me."
I wasn't expecting to be an agony aunt, any more than a unicorn, but a lot's changed the last few weeks. And this story sounds all too familiar.
"If we run into them again," I say, "you should talk to her."
"To Zheng?"
"To the First Mate."
"Oh," he says. "Oh! Um... anything in particular you think I should say?"
I sigh. Is there anything that would have reconciled me to Stede Bonnet, when he first turned up? Is there anything that's reconciled me to him now?
"Lay it on thick," I suggest. "Tell her how much you admire all she's done for the Pirate Queen. Say you understand she taught Zheng everything she knows. You know you'll never replace her, you just want to help them both, however you can."
"Thanks," he says. "I'll keep that in mind. If we happen to see them again. Don't suppose we will."
"It's a small Caribbean," I say. "And we're on our way back to the Republic of Pirates."
There, see, I can do agony aunt. I can do cabaret singer. I can do shark whittler. I can do one-legged swordsman. Fact is, this crew keeps on showing me I can do anything. What shall I try next? I yawn. Maybe not tonight...
"Um, right," says Boodhari. "Hey, I'll do the next watch. You look like you could do with some sleep."
Fang's at the wheel, the goat sitting across his feet. Between him and Boodhari, we should be safe for a few hours.
"Thanks." I head for the steps down to the main deck - Feeney is sleeping on the port stairs, so I limp over to starboard and descend on that side. Don't want to stomp on a sea goddess.
I was meaning to go for a kip in the cabin, but now I can't resist crossing the deck to look at him. Wee John Feeney - no, Calypso John Feeney - slumbering on the steps in his glittery blue number and dramatic make-up. I rub my hand across my forehead, and I see it's stained gold from what's left of the make-up he did for me before the party… gold like the hoof on the leg the crew gave me. And I'm remembering how carefully he worked, the concentration in his features as he tried to get it just right, this new face he was making for me.
I kneel before him on my good knee, then slide the wooden leg around and down, shifting myself on the deck until I'm comfortable. And I lay my head in Calypso John's lap. His thighs are the best pillow I've had in years. Yes, I'll rest well here. Sleepy fingers run gently through my hair as I close my eyes and sigh.
Don't know what took me so long.