Vengeance

A large frigate with black sails pulled up alongside a British brig, cannons blasting holes in the certainly doomed British vessel. As soon as the hooks were firmly attached, the crew boarded the British vessel. Under order of the captain, not a single man was to be left breathing. The captain looked like something that had clawed its way up from the very bowels of hell. Thick plumes of smoke came from the captain's hair, only adding to their hellish appearance. The captain fought viciously, slashing through the British with a fury, but with a sort of elegance about the way they moved. The captain cornered the captain of the British vessel, taking their time with him, toying with him the way a cat would a rat or mouse.
"Mercy! I beg you! Show mercy!"
"Mercy?! You want me to show you MERCY?! They showed him no mercy! They cut off his head and nailed it to the goddamned bow" the captain roared before attacking the man with more fury than before, focusing on making every blow more painful than possible. Eventuall, the captain grew bored, and lopped of the man's head, holding it proudly. Seeing their captain was dead, the British surrendered.
"What shall we do with them, captain?"
"The same as they did to him." The men set about chopping off the heads of the British, and nailing them to the side of the pirate frigate.
"Where to now, Captain?"
"Nassau. Send them to the locker." The captain headed back to their quarters, leaving the men to sink the British vessel.

Nassau. Again. Dewl grew tired of this forsaken place, it's nothing but cheap booze and cheaper women. The architecture lacked aesthetic, the people lacked intelligence, and worst of all, it smelled like animal droppings. Nothing about this place pleased him, yet against all reason, he kept coming back. On this occasion, he visited this island to hide, or tried to anyways. The Spanish Navy were in search of him and the rest of the Duke's crew after they raided one of their cargo ships, the Joya de la Corona. They amassed a good amount of fortune from it, probably equal to that of Thomas Tew, but they were not really sure yet. It just looked like a lot. They were too busy avoiding cannon fires and ship patrols to even start counting any of it. But they were sure that it was a lot, hopefully.

The sun was setting at a steady pace, marking the end of the day with a change of hue. Dewl sat down idly, feet hanging, on the wooden platforms near the shore. He was tinkering with his clay pipe, carefully putting the filter inside the stem before connecting it with the chamber. From his right coat pocket, he pulled out a jumble of tobacco and put it into the clay pipe, pushing it deeper until it was as thick as it could possibly be. He then pulled out a wooden match from his shirt pocket and light it. Once there was fire, he put it on top of the chamber of his pipe and waited until the tobacco started to burn. And finally, when it's all done, he put the lip on his lips and smoked.

Slow down, relax. This was a stroll, not a race. There was no use in puffing too quickly. After all, Dewl didn't want to burn his tongue, it was the sharpest tool in his arsenal. This particular tobacco, which he bought from Jamaica, was exceptionally good. It was earthly, a little bit spicy, but not too bitter to take in. He eased up a bit and let the sound of the waves nearby and the beautiful sunset in front lulled him. It was all just too perfect, nothing could be better. That is until the sight of a frigate with heads hanging on its side ruined all of it for him.

"Oh for fuck's sake." Dewl groaned as smoke came creeping out of his mouth. "There's always something."

The captain of the frigate left their quarters, wearing a familiar frock coat with bullet holes and cuts that had been sewn closed, and an old black leather tricorn hat with an ostrich feather in it. There was a certain elegance to the way the captain moved, like a graceful woman gliding through a ballroom. The captain sat down not too far from the man, and removed their hat revealing themself to be a young woman with long pitch black hair. The woman let out a sigh, and looked up at her ship as she ran her fingers through her hair. She was an attractive young woman, and clearly quite a successful pirate. The woman pulled a small book from her pocket, and opened it up to a picture of a large bearded man, and gently ran her fingers over the picture before flipping to a different page with the British flag, and made a score before putting everything back in her pocket.

What a spectacle. The captain of the ship, as it turned out, was quite an exhibitionist. Well, most pirates at the time were, that was true. Calico Jack, Blackbeard, Kenway, the best ones were usually big on theatrics. Hell, one of them liked to set his beard on fire to intimidate his enemies. Dewl found that method a bit too much, but to each their own. He looked at the figure subtly from behind his green tinted glasses, he kept on smoking his pipe and acted like he didn't care. To be honest, he really was not in the mood for socializing. But why oh why did the captain had to sit next to him? Of all the places she could've chosen, she chose to sit on the same part of the wooden platform as him. How absurd, it was as if the universe didn't want him to have some leisure time for his own.

The captain minded her own business, she was probably tired from a long day of plundering British ships. Her long black hair fell down as she removed her hat, it was a bit too clean and smooth for a pirate. She must have used some sort of mixture to keep it that way, or maybe it was just passed down from her mother or father. Lucky her. Dewl huffed and puffed nonchalantly, swinging his legs back and forth, trying his best to enjoy the rest of his day. But the moment was cut short as the captain pulled out a peculiar book from her pocket and began to open it. Did she want him to read it or something? It was right in his line of vision and she wasn't even trying to hide it.

There was a picture of a large bearded man, it reminded Dewl of a goat he saw a while back while he was walking around the street. No, actually, that would be quite offensive to the goat. It looked much better than the man in the picture, much much better. She then flipped open another page, this time there was a British flag on it. Everybody sure hated them, even though they were on the right side of the law. Dewl had no grudge against them, really. He didn't hate them too. To him, they were more of a nuisance, kind of like the mosquitoes on tropical islands. He could tell though that the captain next to him wasn't fond of them, she had a score of how many British captains she killed. A girl with a lot of issues.

Dewl didn't notice that the tobacco in his chamber was already gone, he was too busy analyzing the captain's activities to realize. This agitated him as he didn't get to savor it. Good thing he still had more in his pocket. "Bollocks." He swore with the pipe still on his mouth, trying to light another wooden match but to no avail. "Bugger off wind, can't ya tell that a fellow is trying to light his pipe here? Just give me a second, would ya?" It is a known fact that the wind cannot communicate, Dewl knew that but ignored it anyways. Talking and swearing was a way for him to vent. He was probably one of the few people who could talk to himself more than even Shakespeare's very own Hamlet, or so they say.

The woman looked over at the man, and chuckled slightly at his difficulty. She moved her hair aside, revealing a series of fuses braided into her hair. She lit one of the fuses, and handed it to the man, a mischievous smile on her face.
"I think ye'll find it'll work better with the wind" the woman said with a chuckle before heading up to the pub. One of her men wheeled a barrel off the frigate, and began rolling it towards the Old Avery while another man brought her a bottle of rum. The young woman watched her men unload more barrels, rolling them up to the pub. The woman took a few sips from the bottle before turning to the man, looking at him for a moment before looking back to her ship. She was an incredibly beautiful woman in her early twenties with flawless pale skin, bright blue eyes, thick eyebrows, and soft pink lips.

Wait a minute... The long black hair, the fuses in her braids, the mischievous smile on her face. No, it can't be. Dewl was rather taken aback by the realization that he stuttered a bit when he was saying his thanks. "T-t-thank you miss. But I assure you that the wind, well, they'll work against you some---" He did not need to finish his sentence as the captain was already gone. Off to the pub she went, enjoying some barely decent liquor while looking at some barely decent view of Nassau's shoreline. There was no actual proof that could solidify his theory that the captain was related with Blackbeard, so for now his assumptions will only just be that, assumptions. But there was no denying that his assumptions were closer to the truth than it was to the untruth. Wait that doesn't sound right. He can't remember the right word for it, the antonym of truth. Well the point was that he was more likely to be right than wrong.

Dewl got up slowly, using his obsidian cane as a crutch. Sometimes, he really wished that he was still in his mid twenties. Back then he did not need to worry about back pains and muscle cramps, now they haunt him all the time. The smoke coming out of his pipe was distorting his view and his lips were tired of holding it in place, so he held it with his free hand instead, only putting it back on his lips when he wanted to inhale some more of that fine Jamaican tobacco. He was about to head to the pub for some information digging, when a stranger called out to him. Dewl turned his head towards him, examining every feature that he could take in while listening to his question. A fine young man, reminded him of himself back in the days; handsome, slender, and most definitely fashionable. He lacked a bit of roughness though, must be someone of a noble heritage or just someone new to the pirate life. "Good timing there boy, I was just about to go to the pub myself. You'll find decent accommodation there, though I don't know if it would be suitable for a fellow like you. It's more suitable for the likes of them to be honest." He pointed at some of the captain's crew who were rolling barrels. They had scars all over their bodies, rotten teeth and probably a lot of dirt in-between their fingernails. Quite a contrast.

It would seem that the sun had already set as the moon was already in its place. Dewl couldn't believe that he missed the sunset. He was very looking forward to it. Well, maybe it just wasn't his day. Besides, the moon was much more interesting than the sunset. Not really, he just liked to think that way to cheer himself up. "Follow me, we'll go to the pub together. It's always better to have company, especially if you're new here boy. Don't worry, I'm not like those uncivilized grunts. I'm actually a physician and a ship-surgeon, that's worth something ain't it?" Dewl made his way up an old wooden set of stairs, they creaked with each step that he made. If a person heavier than a barrel of wine were to go up these stairs, they would surely collapse. This time it wasn't just an assumption, it was pure calculation. The terrace of the bar was crowded with all sorts of people, but really they could all be categorized into two; the drunk and the sober ones. He maneuvered himself through the crowd, dodging incoming vomits, avoiding the usual bar fights, until he finally reached the captain. Dewl leaned on the railing next to her, facing the other way, and put his pipe back on his lips. He didn't want to be the one who started the conversation as she needed to take an interest in him first. So he just waited, he waited for the boy to catch up and he waited for the captain to speak up.

The woman stared out at the sea, sadly nursing a bottle of rum. This small island may have been a filthy shithole riddled with problems and falling apart in places, but she thought it was beautiful. The people were free in every way, and they were happy. She had been standing there, listening to the band and laughter as she drank. Even though she was still proudly wearing her hat, the wind still gently twirled her hair about, following the wind slightly. The woman took a few large sips from the bottle, and let out a sigh, her eyes still fixed on the horizon.

She ignored the man from the docks that joined her at the railing for a few minutes before letting out a bit of a sigh, and hanging her head a bit. She turned to the man, and leaned against the railing, taking another sip of her drink.
"Ah, it's you" the woman said with a slight smile. "I see you finally managed to light your pipe."

"What, never seen a lady pirate before" the woman asked with a chuckle as she turned to face the young man. She had a bit of a devil may care attitude, but she seemed somewhat nice. "Name's Jennifer, captain of the Headless Captain" Jennifer said with a smile as she held out her hand. The young man before her didn't seem remotely British, so she didn't perceive him as a threat.

"Ah, vous parlez français? C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer, monsieur." The woman dipped into a slight curtsey, smiling a bit. "Now, there's no need to be so formal here. Who are you?" The woman stood back a bit, and took another sip from her bottle. She found it a bit odd that a man of culture had found his way to Nassau.

The woman studied the young man for a moment, examining his build and gear. She didn't really take in new crewmen so quickly, but the young man seemed decent enough.
"Well, you don't look like much of a fighter, but you're certainly well educated, and I need a new navigator. So, you're in. We can get the paperwork sorted later." The captain took off her hat, and bowed slightly. "Well, since you're part of my crew now, I suppose you should know who I really am. Captain Jennifer Thatch."

"We'll be in Nassau for a few days since we need to do some repairs to the Headless Captain" Jennifer said with a smile. She was a nice person, unless someone disrespected her, insulted her father, or was British. "Been at sea for nearly a month now, so the men have earned some shore leave." Jennifer took another sip of her drink before calling to the barkeep. "Oi! Rumfustian with a touch of powder!" The barkeep nodded, and set about making Jennifer's drink. "So what brought you to Nassau, mister Alvares?"

"Ah, a desire to be free? Now that, I understand. That why Nassau was founded, the New Libertallia, freedom for all." Jennifer received her drink, and caught the barkeep before they left. "One for the lad, minus the powder." The barkeep nodded, and headed off rather quickly. Jennifer turned to face Marco, her smile fading a bit. "I was trained to be a killer by the people that stole me away from my mother when I was a child. Didn't mind it really, figured it would help me become like my father. I arrived a few days after they slaughtered him."

Jennifer waved it off, and sat on the railing, her back turned to the men, and turned her attention to her drink as she stared out over the town. She really did love Nassau, just as much as any pirate, perhaps more so because her father helped make it. As luck would have it, the band started playing started playing a song very dear to her, Here's a health to the company. She downed her drink, and set the empty tankard at her side before returning to the bottle of rum. She wiped away a few tears, careful to not let anyone see.

(Been kind of busy lately. Please do forgive me for the late reply.)

The plan seemed to work perfectly. There was certainly an allure to him that made her take notice or maybe it was because he was the only guy near her. Dewl preferred the initial reason. "Ah, yes. Thank you for that. There's nothing better than having strains of burned hair getting mixed together with my tobacco." He said to her wryly. "They certainly have a more bitter taste now. A tad bit like charcoal, though not as unpleasant." At first glance, she didn't look like a threat. But he knew better than to judge a book by its cover. The deadliest hunters are often those who can blend perfectly into their surroundings, those who can't be seen by their prey. Now a pretty face like hers could create a good facade to cover up her more brutal antics.

While the captain and the boy conversed, Dewl observed the two. This was good for him. They had shown their cards first. The captain, as previously assumed, was indeed the daughter of Blackbeard. Her name was Jennifer Thatch, more famously known as the Dancing Demon. He didn't really like that name because for some reason he kept imagining the devil dancing a form of ballet in the pits of hell. It was more comedic than scary to him now. Oh well. On to the next one, the flamboyant boy. His name was Marco Alvares, he could speak French but his accent was Spanish. Definitely a very cultured individual, one who knew what etiquette was. The assumption that he came from a noble family was even stronger now because of it. Need to investigate further.

Dewl was still leaning on the railing behind him, leisurely smoking his pipe, gathering more information as the two conversed. Ms.Thatch said that she was trained to be a killer, could she be part of the Creed? She did say that the training that she went through could make her be more like her father and Dewl knew exactly what his father's affiliation was besides being a pirate. His death was very unfortunate, but it was never just a happenstance. It was systematically planned by the Order. They wanted to end Thatch and Kenway both at the same time. But like all plans, if it can go wrong it will go wrong. The decoy Man O' War that they used to lure the two didn't have any other ships surrounding it, that's why Kenway was able to escape in the middle of the skirmish. A shame really, it could've been two birds with one stone.

His thoughts wandered far into the plane of maybes and what ifs. He thought about the things that could happen in the near future, he thought about the two people with him right now and who they could become, he thought about Jamaica and when he will buy another batch of tobacco. So much to think about, so little time. In the midst of this, Marco thanked him for bringing him to the pub, he was too kind for his own good. "You're very much welcome. But in all honesty, it might have probably been better if you were wandering somewhere else right now. Somewhere far from Nassau." Dewl turned his back and faced the shore. "Freedom comes with a price, you should think about what you're going to pay it with. The most used currency would be your life. If the average life expectancy was eighty years old, then you'd have to sacrifice at least ten years of yours. It's just a game of equivalent exchange my boy, I hope you understand that."

It was easy to tell that Ms.Thatch was still grieving. She had lost her father, someone very important to her. Dewl would usually say that time will be the healer, and most of the time it was, but a pirate life was a life that was surrounded by death. Every man she stabbed, every man she hanged, they all had someone important to them. In an ironic twist of fate, perhaps deep down inside, she realized that she was no different from the men who killed her father. That her sadness was unjustified. What makes her father's death more important than the death of a British Captain that had a family waiting for him or her back home? The answer: Bias. "Alas, in each and every death, a new life is born. It's just a cycle. It's just how things work around here. In my years as a privateer, I've lost many good men. Too many. But I realized something." He paused for a moment, taking his time to smoke a bit. "There was no point in crying for them for they had chosen this life willingly. Death is a pirate's closest friend.  Just know that they died doing the things that they love to do, not a lot of people are able to do that, you know what I mean?" This speech wasn't just a warning for Marcos, it was also a reminder for Ms.Thatch. The life that the boy was going to enter and the life that the captain had endured it comes with a price.

"Chose this life? At the end of the war, after years of service, the men were poorly compensated and had no other choice than to turn to piracy. I followed my father's footsteps, to honour his memory, and take down as many of those British dogs as I can." Jennifer pulled out her own pipe, packed it, and lit it, taking a pull to calm herself down. She had met with a lot of the older pirates, and understood them, she had learnt everything she knew from them. He was right though, death was a pirates closest friend, and she had accepted that some time ago. "Besides, the navy would never have a lass at sea, so I turned to piracy."

Did she not think that he was aware of all that? Dewl used to be a privateer himself, a damn good one at that. He, Thomas Dover, and Alexander Selkirk were remnants from the War of the Spanish Succession. They were the ones who gave the Duke its fearsome reputation and they were once a part of the famed Captain Woodes Rogers' crew. After the Peace of Utrecht, they were all compensated fairly for their services in the expedition and went on their separate ways. His captain, Dover, went on a vacation all around Europe. He did not know for how long, but he deserved the break. The sailing master, Selkirk, became famous due to the books that chronicled his privateering expedition. The money and fame that they gave him made him somewhat a celebrity now. Dewl on the other hand did not return to his normal life like the others. The Order wanted him to move independently from the Royal Navy, so he could follow orders and attack other Assassin ships without being bounded by the law.

Keep in mind, Dewl was given the choice to let somebody else do it and to find some other line of work if he wanted. But he chose not to. He figured that this was the most effective way of eradicating Great Britain's enemies without leaving behind any single trace that could lead back to them. It was also a way for him to easily interact with other pirates to gather information about the Assassins plans and whereabouts before attacking and pillaging them independently from the Navy. The loot that he acquired from most of his adventures were secretly shared with the government, usually through a third party in a secluded location. This was done to maintain the government's image. After all, it won't be good for them if the people found out that they had been working with pirates. Even if it was for a good cause. This was the difference between The Templar Order and The Assassins. One was changing the world through power and control by infiltrating the very organizations that ran every part of the system, such as: politics, economy, media, military, etcetera. While the other one preferred to hide in the dark and systematically kill people in power in hope that they could be more closer to freedom than they were before. The truth was that they will never be closer to their goal, as their solution for creating peace was flawed and problematic.

Dewl took a long pull from his pipe, there was so much youth and naivety coming from Jennifer that he had to calm himself down. He had lived much longer than her, he had seen things that she could not comprehend, and he had learned of many knowledge that she could barely even grasp. To think that she knew better than him was just absurd. "Each of them had a choice Ms.Thatch. They could've chosen to become part of the Navy, they could've chosen to be something else, but they didn't. I realize that some of them weren't compensated fairly, that's true. But after the war, our economy was not at its prime. The money needed to be reallocated to something else that was more significant at the time. We are rebuilding and the process is not easy." He cleared his throat a bit and turned his head towards her. "Let me ask you something, what about those cargo ships that you pillage with your crew? What about the fine men of the Navy that you killed who were only doing their duties? Huh? What are the aftereffects of your actions? Every ship you destroy, every penny you take, and every person you kill means that there are people out there who will be poorly compensated as well. It's a gain for you, but it's a loss for them. Is your cause worth that much trouble? Or just like any other pirate I know, are you only thinking of yourself?" Perhaps his words went a little bit too far. But it did not matter, for in order to think properly one must risk being offensive.

"Every man for himself, that's what I was taught. You and I both know that the conditions on a navy vessel are worse than those of any pirate vessel. The men are well paid, and compensated for injuries." The woman took another long deep pull from her pipe as she turned to face the man, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke slowly. She looked quite a bit annoyed by what the man had said, but she was trying to remain calm. "What about all the innocent people the British have killed, doctor? Civilizations destroyed, people enslaved, torture, outright murder. They killed my father, I kill them, and eventually, someone will kill me. It's a vicious cycle, but it's life." Jennifer took another sip from her bottle as she glared at the man. It was so typical for people to assume that she knew nothing, that she didn't understand how the world worked, how the game was played. She knew though, she knew very well, she just chose to play dumb as it worked in her favour.

"And you expect this pirate life to last? This is merely a temporary solution to all of our problems!" Dewl raised his obsidian cane and stomped it to the ground. For a moment, the pub seemed to be frozen in time. Every man and woman of all shapes and sizes stopped in their tracks and watched him as he continued to speak. "Haven't you heard? Woodes Rogers is already making his move to either destroy or reform piracy. A lot of pirates have already been pardoned thanks to him and they are now able to start a new life. Some are even hunting other pirates on behalf of his name. Now I know that man well, I've worked with him for many years. Trust me lads, soon he will come to Nassau. When that time comes, I suggest that the lot of ya listen to what he has to say." The atmosphere around them was now tense, he can hear a couple of people whistling and coughing awkwardly in the background. There was no clanking of glass bottles, no fists hitting the side of someone's skull, no laughter, nothing. Only the sound of the crashing waves.

Dewl let out a deep sigh before going over to Jennifer. He moved his cane to her right shoulder and then to her left, patting them both gently before finally placing the tip of it on her forehead. "I know you can do so much more Ms.Thatch. With that pretty face and sharp mind of yours, you could have become an upstanding member of society." The cane then slowly descended back to its original place, becoming a crutch once again as it hits the floor. "Though it is true that the Brits have done a lot of questionable things, but at least they were doing it for their nation, not just for their individual selves. They have learned from their misdeeds and found ways to improve. Progress in science, medicine, politics... The Brits had made a lot of them, they are moving forward. Now what about us pirates? What will we be known for?" He grabbed a bottle from a passing barmaid, gave her a tip, and took a sip. His mouth was very dry from all the talking, but he knew that it was necessary. He could tell that a lot of people in the pub were beginning to contemplate on the matter. The golden age of piracy was dying and they needed an alternative.

Pirates in the pub were beginning to talk to each other again. They now had the same thought in mind. What will they do once this was all over? Dewl thought that those who were still in denial of the fact were ignorant of the changing of time. He was a futurist, always two steps ahead. That was how he was able to survive for so long. "Look, I know that some men from the British Navy killed your father. But your reasoning for revenge doesn't make any sense. You are angry at a whole nation for something that only a few number of people did. It's just not, what do those Americans like to say, um... apple to apple?" He took one final pull from his pipe to ease up a bit. Surely she would have understood by now that her senseless revenge will only lead to nothing. "It's just that I find it rather odd. Me and you, we're BRITISH as well aren't we? So I really don't get what all the fuss is about." A laugh came out from him, he was able to loosen up now and so did the rest of the people in the pub.