The Peter & Charlie Trilogy

by Gordon Merrick

  After hurrying through dark streets for what seemed like hours, he came to a cross street with a few lights along it. It looked familiar. Wasn’t the port just beyond? His spirits rose and he put on another little burst of speed. In another few minutes, he came rushing out into the square that fronted the port. The boat was there. He stopped to catch his breath. Charlie must have been watching for him; he called Peter’s name.

  “Come here,” he called back and waited. Charlie came running down the gangplank to him. Peter grabbed his arm as his eyes widened at the first sight of his face and led him off into shadow at the side of the square.

  “For God’s sake, what’s happened to you?” Charlie demanded, his voice rough with anxiety. “I’ve been worried sick.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” Peter stopped as soon as they were in deep shadow. “Is my face a mess?”

  “Jesus! Poor darling baby. Tell me.”

  “You should see the other guys.” Peter laughed through almost immobile lips. He told his story, having difficulty forming some of the words.

  “If they just wanted to rob you, why did they take you to that house?” Charlie demanded when he had finished. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I know. That’s what I kept wondering. I think sex must’ve been part of it right from the beginning. I get the impression that it’s accepted here in a casual sort of way. You know, just horsing around with an orgasm thrown in. They seemed to take it for granted that I’d play along with it. The bastards. It wasn’t like that with the one called Yanni. He really wanted the works. Maybe he had to let his pals have their fun before he took over.”

  “Then why beat you up, for God’s sake?”

  “They didn’t.” Peter laughed painfully. “I beat them up. They didn’t seem to know what to do when I fought back. The eye was an accident. The Yanni one didn’t get me in the mouth until I’d let him have a couple of good ones. It was amazing how he just sort of folded up at my feet.”

  Charlie caught the satisfaction in the way he said it. “Christ Almighty, I’ll kill them. Where are they? Do you know where you were?”

  “I could get pretty near it. Everything looked alike in the dark. I’m not sure.”

  “We’ve got to find the police. Do you think you ought to see a doctor?”

  “What kind of a doctor would we find around here? Anyway it’s only a black eye and a split lip. Maybe Martha has some stuff on board. Don’t tell the Kingsleys about the sex part. They’ll think it happened just because I’m queer.”

  “They damn well better not.” Charlie took his hands. He felt something odd about them and lifted them to the light. “My God. They’re all swollen.”

  “Sure. Battling Pete. I wish you could’ve seen me. I was really something when I got going.”

  Charlie put an arm around him and hugged him. “You’re something all right, mate. God, I was glad to see you. I didn’t see how you could get run over around here, but I imagined everything else. Come on. We’ll get you fixed up and then we’ll go to the police.”

  “Don’t bother. I took care of them. I don’t think they’ll try messing around with pretty foreigners again.”

  “You’re suddenly driving everybody crazy. I shouldn’t be so used to you. You’ve probably just come into full bloom, and I haven’t even noticed it.”

  They laughed while Peter thought of Jeannot again. He was glad his face was messed up. Charlie couldn’t suspect him of being acquiescent this time. “I guess I just look like a pushover,” he said. “Goldilocks. It’s just as well I went to all those military schools. God knows, they left the mind untouched, but I do know how to hit people.”

  They reached the foot of the gangplank with their arms around each other. Martha appeared at the head of it as Peter started up. When he came nearer, she gasped and put her hands to her face.

  “Oh, my poor darling,” she moaned. “What happened? Come here. We’ve got to do something about you.”

  Charlie was behind him pushing him up the gangplank with his hands on his hips. When they stepped out onto the narrow afterdeck, he stayed beside him with a hand on his shoulder and lifted Peter’s arm in the gesture of victory.

  “Three thugs jumped him. He beat the hell out of them. Isn’t he fantastic?” Pride rang in Charlie’s voice. “Wait’ll you see his hands.”

  “But it must hurt,” Martha exclaimed. “I’ve got things that should help. We’ll take care of you first and then I want to hear all about it.”

  “Here. Just sit here, baby.” Charlie guided him to one of the cockpit benches and seated him. “I’ll get you a good stiff drink while Martha attends to the first aid.”

  They went below, leaving Peter in a daze of exhilaration and delight. Charlie had used the endearment in public again. It was more healing than anything Martha could do for him; he was no longer aware of pain. He sprawled back on the bench and felt like a conquering hero. Charlie returned with a whisky and a bundle that turned out to be crushed ice wrapped in a dishcloth.

  “Martha says to put this on your eye. Take a good swallow of this first.” Charlie sat beside him while he took a long gulp of the strong drink. Peter applied the icepack and rested the hand holding the glass on Charlie’s thigh. It was the first act of public physical intimacy with Charlie that he had initiated, and he left his hand where it was when Martha appeared with a basin.

  “Finish your drink and then bathe your hands in this,” she said.

  Charlie held his hand for a moment as if to indicate that he liked having it there and then lifted it to Peter’s mouth and rested it lightly on his wrist while Peter drained the glass. He took the glass and slid his arm around him.

  “I’ll hold that on your eye.” He cradled Peter’s head in the crook of his arm and held the icepack while Martha put the basin on his lap. Peter immersed his hands in warm liquid that smelled medicinal. Martha sat on the other side of him and began to swab his mouth gently with a warm cloth. He was a knight attended by squires.

  “It must have bled a lot,” Martha said tenderly. “It’s already beginning to form a scab. I’ll put some penicillin on it and then we’ll have to let nature take its course. He won’t be able to eat the sausages I’ve got for you.”

  “Soup would be good, wouldn’t it?” Charlie suggested. “How about soft-boiled eggs? We could spoon ’em into him.”

  Peter sensed a solidarity between them, which, through Charlie, included him. There was something parental in their treatment of him, soothing and cozy. It struck him as appropriate that Jack shouldn’t be with them. He was probably asleep already.

  “Darling Peter,” Martha said, giving his mouth a final dab. “I can’t bear to see that beautiful mouth all swollen. I’ll open a can of something. Clear bouillon is probably best. He shouldn’t move his mouth any more than necessary. Make him give his hands a good soaking.” She rose and left them.

  “Everything’s beginning to feel much better,” Peter said. “Thanks, darling. You’re being so damn nice to me.”

  “Why shouldn’t we be?”

  Peter had intended his thanks for Charlie but he wasn’t surprised that he spoke for Martha, as well. They had ministered to him as a couple. “She’s really sweet, isn’t she?”

  “She is. She’s come through damn well.”

  “Talk about driving people crazy. You’re doing all right.”

  Charlie chuckled. “Whatever she feels, she’d never be a nuisance. I’ve never known a girl like her.”

  “You tempted?”

  “Maybe. Every now and then, when she makes it so obvious what she wants. You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

  “Not really, so long as you don’t leave me out in the cold.”

  Charlie put a hand on his arm and stroked it. “Don’t worry. I doubt if anything will happen, but if it did, it wouldn’t have anything to do with us.”

  “That’s silly. Anything you do has everything to do with us, but I know what you mean. I’m hardly the one to talk.”

&nbs
p; “That’s silly. It’s all forgotten, baby. We’re off on a whole new phase.”

  “What—” New phases could be dangerous, but it was thrilling to hear the note of total forgiveness in his voice. It carried them a step beyond their talk in Capri. He longed to hear more about the new phase, but Martha was coming up the companionway.

  As she approached, she saw Charlie’s arm encircling Peter’s shoulders so that he could hold the ice on his eye. She saw his other hand moving idly, caressingly, along Peter’s arm. They were so beautiful together. She was filled with tenderness for them. Charlie’s gentle, loving care of his friend sometimes made her knees feel as if they would give way. His touching him and holding him so openly in front of her admitted her to an enchanted circle of love. She put the food she was carrying on the other bench.

  “Now then.” She took the basin and emptied it over the side and handed Peter a towel. “Did that seem to help?”

  Peter flexed his fingers. “A lot. Thanks, lovey.”

  “I’ll heat another batch for later.” She held out a plate of food and a bowl of soup to them. Peter took the icepack from Charlie and they drew apart. All of Martha’s attention was for Peter. She sat beside him. “I just warmed up the bouillon. I didn’t want your mouth to get burned.”

  “It’s perfect. You’re a dream.”

  “The eggs will be ready in a minute.”

  “Wine, too, please ma’am,” Charlie said.

  “Oh, of course. I’ll get it. I don’t want Peter to talk, but you’ve got to tell me what happened.”

  They spent another hour or two on deck, with Peter very much the center of attention. They discussed a truncated version of the incident. Martha came and went with salves and healing baths. Charlie and Peter got a bit drunk on wine. They all went below together.

  Martha snapped off the deck light. “Jack said we didn’t have to show a riding light here.”

  “Save the batteries,” Peter and Charlie chorused, and they all laughed. Martha kissed them both on the cheek in the roomy saloon cabin and wished them goodnight and went forward. Charlie stripped down to his shorts.

  “I hope you’re not going to be hot in that jersey, baby. We can’t get it over your head without hurting you.”

  “No. It’ll be all right.” Peter pulled off his pants and went to the head and returned and stretched out on his bunk. Charlie turned off the one dim light and went and knelt beside him. He kissed him on the forehead and on the uninjured eye and on the side of his face.

  “I want so badly to kiss you,” Peter whispered.

  “Soon, slugger,” Charlie said softly, not bothering to whisper. “I want a lot more than that.” He felt Peter’s hand on him, lifting his sex out of its pouch and holding it as it lengthened and hardened. It was a bold initiative of the sort that Peter had never taken; Charlie smiled to himself. He moved his hand down under the sheet to Peter’s already rigid sex as his own rose against the side of the bunk. He nuzzled Peter’s ear. “I don’t mind if they find us like this, but I don’t particularly want to show them the works. Squeeze over.” He lifted himself onto the bunk and gathered Peter into his arms and covered them with the sheet. Peter pulled him close and they lay together. Their sexes straining against each other.

  “Oh God,” Peter whispered, his heart racing. “I can’t believe it. I’ve wanted you here for weeks and haven’t even dared think it.”

  Charlie worked the jersey up under his armpits and kissed his nipples. He hunched down and kissed his sex, while Peter thrashed about in his arms and tugged at his hair.

  “No. Don’t, darling,” he whispered. “Please. We mustn’t.”

  Charlie straightened and they lay together again. “I don’t care who sees us,” Charlie murmured, “but I guess you’re right.”

  “Anyway, I want it all. Stay here with me.” There was an uncharacteristic imperative in the urgent whisper.

  Charlie smiled again in the dark and stroked his hair. “Anything you say, baby. Go to sleep, sweet love. You’ve had a rough evening.”

  “I’ll say. I really beat the shit out of those guys.” His sex gave a little leap as he said it and he ran his hand over Charlie’s buttocks and pulled him closer. Charlie was still smiling as he kissed his forehead again and continued to stroke his hair. Something seemed to fall into place in the grand design he was nurturing on the edge of his consciousness.

  Charlie woke up at dawn and extricated himself carefully without waking Peter and went to his own bunk. It wasn’t likely that either of the Kingsleys had come through yet, but it didn’t matter. A captain’s rights were extensive, including sleeping with the crew. He pulled the sheet over himself and slept another hour.

  They were all up early. Jack was facetious about Peter’s ruined face as they gathered in the cockpit for coffee.

  “You look like a real sailor now, Peter boy. Shore leaves. Barroom brawls. It’s a wonder you didn’t bring a wench on board with you.”

  “Oh, I did. She was a shy maiden. I hustled her ashore before you could get your hands on her.”

  “Wise lad.” Jack laughed. “You know, the funny thing is I actually thought for a minute you had somebody in your bunk with you when I came above during the night.”

  “Who says I didn’t? You have to be pretty spry to keep up with the slugger.”

  Charlie glanced at Martha and found her eyes on him and winked. Peter took his arm and pulled him down onto the seat beside him.

  “Isn’t my beauty blinding? I just took a good look at myself. Have you ever seen anything like the colors?” His eye was in fact an astonishing variety of somber purples and maroons, but considerably less swollen. He could speak more easily. His hands were stiff, but not very painful; he couldn’t handle the lines but the wheel wouldn’t be too difficult for him. He was nominated helmsman of the day. They were soon out and Charlie and Jack had the sails up and they were headed into the rising sun.

  After all the days in open sea, Charlie expected this landlocked sail to be a let-down, but he had not yet learned to reckon with these waters. The Gulf of Corinth opened out majestically as they advanced into it, contained by high distant peaks that still bore traces of snow. No land was visible ahead of them. Within an hour, a southwesterly wind had risen and continued to stiffen all through the morning. A heavy sea began to roll in behind them. They were getting the wind very nearly on their beam, ideal for sailing, and Charlie trimmed the sheets for maximum speed. The sea was coming from a slightly different quarter, lifting them and sending them hurtling into deepening troughs, but Peter skillfully held Cassandra steady, and they were taking on very little water. Charlie went careening aft and dropped beside Peter at the wheel. They beamed at each other.

  “How about this for racing?” Charlie demanded. “It’s the best yet.”

  “It’s like riding a bucking bronco.”

  “You’re doing beautifully, baby. Let me take over for a while. Give your hands a rest.”

  “I don’t need to, but help yourself.”

  They shifted on the seat and Charlie took the wheel. Peter put his arm around him and held him as he had been held by Charlie so often in the last couple of weeks. He felt very daring for a moment, but there was none of the stiffening in Charlie that he was accustomed to when he made a move toward him in public.

  “How about us last night?” Peter laughed without letting his lips move. “I guess Jack saw us.”

  “Sure. So what?”

  “You’re making me so damn proud.” He could talk about it now. Charlie’s altered behavior no longer seemed a fluke, an erratic aftermath to Jean-Claude but a new, fixed pattern he could count on. They could talk about it and make it their own. “You know I’ve always wanted it like this, people taking us for what we are—a couple, lovers—married, goddamn it.”

  “It’s about time you have it the way you want it. Just wait—Good God! Hold onto your hat. Here comes a big one.”

  Peter had time to glance astern at what appeared to be a wall of w
ater rising above them and then they were lifted giddily and held for a breathtaking moment before they rushed like a surf-board down the side of the wave. Charlie spun the wheel one way and then the other to hold his course. Their downward plunge stopped with a jolt and the bow lifted, scooping up sea and sending it hurtling back along the deck. There was a crash below.

  “Is this going to be as bad as the first night?” Peter asked.

  Charlie looked around at the crystalline sky and the sparkling, white-capped sea and shook his head. “This isn’t a storm. It’s just a good blow. It’s amazing the sea can get so big in here. The wind’s actually letting up a bit.”

  Jack came struggling up the companionway and stood braced against the cabin housing. “Hadn’t we better get some of this sail down?” he called.

  “Are you nuts? We’re really moving.”

  “I don’t like heeling this much.”

  “Boats are meant to heel, Jack. Do you want to turn on the motor?”

  “At the rate we’re going, we’ll be at the canal just after dark.”