The sea had been restless all morning. Dark clouds rolled above the horizon while the infamous ship of Edward Thatch — better known as Blackbeard — cut through the waves toward Nassau. The deck groaned beneath heavy boots and drunken laughter alike, though the captain himself remained silent near the helm, one gloved hand resting against the rail as smoke curled from the burning fuses braided into his beard.

“Ship off starboard!”

The cry snapped every head toward the horizon. A black sail. Pirate colors. Too fast to be merchant. Too bold to be Navy. At once, the mood aboard the Queen Anne’s Revenge shifted. Pistols were checked. Cannons readied. Men muttered curses beneath their breath while Blackbeard narrowed his eyes toward the approaching vessel, expression hard as iron.

“Well then…” he rumbled, voice rough with salt and smoke. “Seems some fool wishes t’ test their luck today.”

The stranger ship drew nearer.

And then Blackbeard recognized the figure standing upon the opposing deck. A familiar silhouette, very familiar. One he had not expected to see upon these waters again. For a long moment, he simply stared before a deep, amused chuckle escaped his chest.

“Well I’ll be damned…”

The tension eased from his shoulders as he stepped toward the edge of the deck, resting both hands against the railing.

“Thought the sea had swallowed ye whole.” His grin sharpened beneath the smoke. “Yet here ye are, bold as ever, sailin’ straight toward me ship without so much as a warning!”