Raised By Wolves 2 - Matelots (5 page)

“Will he be there?” Striker asked, alert for whatever I might reveal.

I sighed. “I do not know. I hope he will arrive because of the storm.”

“How long since you’ve seen him?” Striker asked with a gentler tone.

“Ten days or so,” I muttered at the sand.

Pete sighed, and I glanced up in time to find him shaking his head sadly at Striker.

“So tell me,” I said with as much quiet jocularity as I could muster.

“What do you all discuss in town betwixt opportunities to brawl?”

Striker chuckled. “The two of you.”

“I am glad we serve at least some purpose,” I said without rancor.

“Amusing one’s fellows may be considered laurel-worthy in certain circumstances.”

“Not out of amusement,” Striker said sadly.

“Then in sober contemplation on how fortunate it is not to be us.” I smiled with equal melancholy.

“That’dBe Closer,” Pete said with a thoughtful nod, and then his face split in a grin and he returned his arm to my shoulder to shake me mercilessly. When he relented, his eyes met mine and the shadow of ageless wisdom overtook him. “Many Wish They Loved Another So.”

I nodded thoughtfully. Though my reason wished to refute him, my heart found peace in the sentiment and clung to it. He rubbed my stubbly scalp and pressed a hard kiss to my forehead before releasing me roughly. Striker and Cudro regarded me with kind amusement.

“All who know you, worry,” Striker said. “Those that don’t know you are not allowed to discuss it about those that do.”

I found that interesting, and reassuring as to the quality of my friends, but it did make me wonder what was said that they sought to silence. Not enough to ask of it, though.

“Thank you,” I said solemnly. “You need not worry too much, though. He will return as he always does, and someday he will recover sufficiently to return to town and sea.”

“By the New Year?” Striker asked.

I frowned.

He continued, “Morgan wishes to raid late this winter. He’s calling for all interested to meet him in the cays of Cuba. Pierrot and I – and Savant, another French captain – wish to provision before that. Morgan believes in taking what’s needed from the Spanish. I believe ’tis best to have food about while waiting for the Spanish to show.”

“We’ll be raiding towns.” Cudro grinned. “Don’t have to wait.”

“Hungry men make bad decisions,” Striker said.

“I would concur with that,” I said. “Does Morgan not feel this way?”

“Morgan feels hunger makes men brave,” Striker sighed.

I shook my head with bemusement. “I would think there is a vast difference between bravery and desperation.”

“If there is, I’ve never seen truly brave men,” Striker said thoughtfully.

“Truly?” I asked. “So all men you have been in battle with have been desperate?”

“In some manner.” He nodded. “But I’d rather they be desperate for gold than victuals.”

“Ah.” I pondered it, and changed the set of my thoughts on the matter. Every man I had seen who seemed brave in facing another’s sword had been either desperate to obtain something or to escape something. I could not think of a single exception. If desperation was not involved, men fought with very clear heads, and there was little bravery about it: none was required because they did not choose to act unless the odds of success were well in their favor.

I returned my attention to the true import of his words. “You wish to sail by the New Year?”

“Aye, before the Twelveday if it can be managed.”

“What is the date?”

“December seventh.” Striker grinned.

“Well, damn,” I sighed.

“Will you be able to join us?”

I shook my head as the implications sank deep. “I do not know.”

Pete rubbed my shoulder. “We Know Ya Will Na’ Leave’Im.”

“I have high hopes he will return due to the storm,” I assured them – and myself – yet again.

“But you don’t know if he’ll wish to sail,” Striker said.

“Aye,” I said sadly.

We let the matter go and joined the others at the fire. Delaney produced his fiddle, and my comrades drank and danced with good will, if not abandon, as the winds strengthened. I sat at the edge of light and laughter and contemplated bravery and desperation.

I had not been led from my father’s house at the tender age of sixteen by bravery, but driven by desperation. I had reasoned that whatever horrors the world might offer, they had to be pleasant compared to those I had known. But now, was desperation what drove me to raid against the Spanish? And did I feel driven at all? Could I not simply remain in this pleasant place and while away my days? I had no need of money. As for my inheritance, Theodore knew where to find me to have me handle such affairs as I must.

Watching the dancing men, I knew it was loneliness that drove me now. I wished for companionship. Yet here I was alone, amongst such true friends, because none were the one I desperately craved. I wanted Gaston. That drove all things. But could I while away my days here without the others, waiting for him to truly return to me in mind as well as body? That was a question I must ponder. Though my heart had ached for him, I had not been without at least some solace and companionship. What would the days be like with no one? And yet, what if he were to return and stay? Would that not be enough? Or would I live in constant fear of his leaving again? Would it not be better for us to be trapped upon a ship where he could not desert me?

I cursed my traitorous and unworthy thoughts and drank.

At some point in the waning festivities, I became aware of Dickey watching me intently. I offered greeting, and he smiled as he came to sit beside me.

“How are you?” I asked. “We have not spoken of late.”

I tried to remember the last time I had spoken with him alone. It might have been when he assisted in my rescue of Gaston.

“I am quite well, thank you. And you?” he asked.

“As can be expected.”

He cleared his throat. “They say… he is often… not about.”

I smiled. “Nay, he is not.” I did not wish to discuss it yet again.

“And to what do I owe this honor?”

“I have news of a sort,” he sighed. “And I need your advice.”

I chuckled. “Gods, I have often made a piss-poor job of my life, of which you have seen at least one example. Why ever would you seek me out?”

“Bah,” he snorted. “If you are so poor at it, then you can at least tell me what you would not do twice.”

I was truly amused, and minded of my earlier words to the wolves and Cudro. “Aye, that may be my purpose: to stand as an example for others. What counsel would you have of me? Or would you rather speak of this news you have first?”

“Let us address the news first,” he said quickly. “I have seen Tom. At a distance, that is. We have not spoken. He arrived on one of the French ships, the Belle Mer.”

I snorted. “Well, that settles the question of how he has gotten on since we left him on Tortuga.” We had left Tom behind after he betrayed Gaston and me to Doucette. “I wonder if he has learned French.”

Dickey shrugged. “I thought you should know. I know that things will not end well for Tom if ever you should get your hands upon him.”

He seemed a trifle melancholy.

“Do you blame me?” I asked.

“Nay,” he sighed. “When I saw him, I was gripped for a moment by the urge to thrash him myself. But truly, Will, I do not feel he understood the severity of the situation.”

“He sided with another against his own.” I patted his shoulder. “But nay, you are correct: he was a right idiot before, and probably still does not understand.”

This elicited a grin. “I wonder if he has taken more to the ways of the Brethren.” Dickey looked away. Even in the dim light of the fire, I could see the red upon his cheeks.

I raised an eyebrow, and did not strive to keep the humor from my voice. “And what ways would those be?”

“Oh… you know, about the taking of a matelot and all…” He petered off sheepishly and glanced my way. He snorted disparagingly when he realized I was teasing him.

I grinned. “Aye, considering his earlier protestations, I think Tom will have learned French first. He would have had to in order to fend them off, since he was not all that proficient with a blade or a piece.”

We chuckled and I thought of handsome young Tom amongst so many amorous strangers. I would have felt pity, if I did not remember his arrogant dismissal of the need for matelotage. I did not feel that any would take what he did not offer; but they would ask a great deal, and he would not make many friends if he let his former opinions on the matter be known. I was minded of Cudro: if one as determined as the big Dutchman found fancy with Tom, he was surely in trouble. That was disheartening, and I wished to think no more on it.

“Well, then, you have delivered your news,” I said as my humor faded. “What advice would you have of me?”

He cleared his throat again. “Well sir, I am recently… enamored of an individual. And I do not know if I should bare my soul on the matter.”

I was pleased to hear it and decided against the obvious questions, such as who, and what gender.

“You cannot divine this person’s feelings toward yourself?” I asked.

“I have no experience with such things,” he said. “The workings of love are a thing I have only read about or observed at a distance.”

“Are you well acquainted with this… individual?” I asked.

He rolled his eyes and nodded.

“So this is not you worshipping from afar?”

“Nay. I see this person every day,” he sighed.

“And this person is… available?” I asked. “Your love, if announced and accepted, would not be forced to remain unrequited because this person has other commitments?”

“Nay, they are as alone as I,” he said wistfully.

Once again I wondered at his presence here, and his not being in Port Royal with his business partner, Belfry, awaiting their first shipment of haberdashery goods. I now surmised this infatuation to be the cause. This meant it was not a young lady he was enamored of.

“I must know. Who?” I asked.

He took a ragged breath and flushed. “The Bard.”

My mouth fell open as I struggled with this surprising information.

He sighed heavily and buried his face in his hands.

“I know, you think me a fool,” he wailed.

“Nay, nay. He is an attractive and well-respected man, possessed of a fine wit and humor.”

“I know. Believe me, I know. And…” he stammered. “I cannot see what he would want in me. I once… I once asked him of his former matelot, and he described a big forceful man much like Cudro. I am anything but a man like Cudro, though the Bard said that if he were to do it again, now, that he might not make the same choices. And, and…

I want… to make him happy, to…” He shuddered and his face was so flushed I thought his eyes might go red. “I do not envision… I mean… I do not wish for…” He gestured about.

I handed him the bottle of Madeira I had been nursing. He took a long pull. This seemed to steady him somewhat.

“I am sorry,” he said quietly. “I have never spoken of such things before.”

I stifled all amusement. “I understand, truly. I will not pass any judgment on you, Dickey. Sometimes it is better to speak. It clears the head and the heart.”

He took another long drink and began talking slowly with a great deal of nervous gesturing. “It is the strangest thing. I wish to touch him, to embrace him. I sometimes even wonder how his touch would feel upon… my person. Yet… I cannot envision… having carnal knowledge of him, or he of me. I.. When I take myself in hand.” He even gestured for that, and he flushed anew and took another drink. “When I… I think about Milly Brown. She was a maid in our household. She was… well endowed. And she was the first woman I ever saw… in the altogether.

She was involved with the gardener. I would sneak out to their trysting spot and watch them from the trees. Her… endowment would be exposed, and it bounced quite a bit as he… And she would make this noise. This little pleasured… squeaking… with each… thrust. I have…

Will, I have never been with a woman.”

“That is nothing to be ashamed of,” I said.

I was proud of myself for not having dissolved into laughter.

“Well, that is kind of you to say, and at least one of us feels that way.” He took another pull and this time his hands stayed at his sides.

“I used to watch Tom sometimes. Then I would imagine it was me with his conquest, or Milly Brown, or… They all squeaked in my fantasies.”

He grinned sadly. “Is the squeaking fairly common?”

“Some noise often is. All sounds of that like are similar, and all are quite precious when you are the one invoking them.”

“Ah.” He smiled.

“So you do not fantasize about the Bard in that fashion?” I asked with a reassuring smile.

He chuckled and flushed anew. “Nay. I cannot envision the squeaking. I cannot even envision him making the sounds I have heard the other men make. And likewise, the idea of… lying beneath him is…

not repulsive to my thinking, but it is very distant from my pleasure, if you understand my meaning.”

“I do.”

He sighed. “We have all heard him bemoan… the lack of such activities in his life, and I do not know if I can offer him that.”

This all sounded very familiar to me. I wished to tell him that Gaston was the one he should discuss this with.

“Dickey, you do not know that you cannot, either.”

He shrugged. “True. I have told myself that if he were to touch me, then perhaps I would feel differently on the matter.”

“You will not know what lies in that field until you walk it,” I said.

“I do not know if he will wish for me to climb the fence,” he said sadly.

“I see that you are here now, and not in town. How much time do you spend in his presence?” I asked.

“Well, Belfry and I knew few in town, so we often paddled out to the Queen in the evenings. And sometimes the men from the Queen came ashore, and we would all go to a tavern.”

“So, it is often the Bard, the sailors, Belfry, and you?”

“Nay.” He shook his head with a small smile. “Belfry often stays in town with Mister Theodore now. He has wished to become better acquainted with the other merchants, and Mister Theodore has been happy to introduce him about.” He shrugged. “Often these days it is just the Bard and I. He is teaching me now. I was there whenever he taught Tom something on the last voyage, and so, well, I remember better than Tom does.” He grinned. “The Bard insists I sail with you this winter. He says the haberdashery is a… Well, he says a great deal about the shop.