Wolves

by W. A. Hoffman

  I was staring at the creature’s teeth. There were a great many of them, and the snout they resided in was very long and large.

  “You saved my life,” I told Cudro. “Thank the Gods.” And then I did reverently thank the Gods.

  Cudro sighed with great relief and wiped the lizard’s blood from his cheek. “You had me worried. I was trying to push you farther away. You went down right under it.” He swore quietly and reverently.

  I tried to move and found my leg pinned by the creature’s weight. “I am stuck.”

  Still panting from the frantic exertion of their attack, they began the apparently arduous process of freeing me.

  “I heard of them getting this big, I’ve never seen one, though,” Cudro growled as they pushed while I squirmed from beneath it. “This is as big as the crocodiles of Egypt are said to get. They say they only get this big when there are pigs and cattle to feed on.”

  We looked at one another with new concern, and sat still to listen to the birds around us. If this one was fat from calves and pigs, that meant there were either tame ones in abundance on a plantation, or a great many because there were no men about. We could not know which it was without exploring in the light of day.

  Pete sighed a minute later and began to gaze at the brush with less concern and more longing. Then he looked at the slain beast. “YaCanEat’Em, Right?”

  Cudro nodded. “The hide’s useful too.”

  Pete looked at what little we could see of the darkening sky. “YaGotTimeFerThat?”

  “Nay,” Cudro said and shrugged. “Couldn’t cure it anyway. I can butcher the meat, though.”

  “I’llGetWater,” Pete said and looked to me. “YaBeWell?”

  “Do I appear unwell?” I asked.

  Pete grinned. “Na’FurAMan WhoNearlyDoneGot ’IsHeadEat’n. YaStayAn’HelpCudro. YaComeWithMe.”

  I blinked with surprise and peered around Cudro’s bulk to see who Pete was speaking to. Chris stood a score of feet behind us on the stream. He was regarding the creature with wide eyes, and the water beneath the roots he perched on with alarm.

  “You should have stayed with the boat,” I remarked.

  He frowned with determination. “Nay, I have had enough of Ash.” Then guilt washed over his features and he cast a sorrowful look at Cudro before carefully clambering over the creature’s body.

  “It’s not your fault,” Cudro said kindly and handed him our water skins.

  Chris met his gaze and nodded. “I am still sorry.”

  “Thank you,” Cudro said.

  Chris carefully began to follow Pete.

  Cudro stood and looked back the way he had come. “Well, my stupid boy didn’t follow,” he said with sad amusement.

  “I am sorry she is here,” I said as I stood. “For your sake.”

  He did not respond, and I let him be and found myself mesmerized once more by the creature. It was a dozen feet long, and as thick around as my body. Its snout was longer than my forearm. I poked at its bark-like skin and examined the eyes atop its head. It did truly appear to be a log. It was no wonder I had not seen it before it moved. And it had been a surprisingly fast log. It had moved with a cat’s speed.

  “You are one lucky bastard,” Cudro said reverently.

  “Nay, aye, I suppose.” I looked to him. “I am lucky in that I have been blessed by a quick and strong friend. Thank you. I owe you my life, truly.”

  He smiled with warmth and no pride, and nodded. “You do.”

  We set to butchering the animal. Cudro suggested I keep the teeth as a souvenir, and so I gingerly hacked them free of the mouth.

  “Don’t be worried about me and Ash,” he said as we worked. “It’s for the best.”

  “Why? You two appeared very happy.”

  He awarded me a bemused smile. “We made a good team, oui; but Will, not all men love as you do. It was a matter of convenience for us.”

  I could well remember their happiness when they first told me of their pairing. It had been upon the return from the Cuban smuggling expedition. I also recalled their initial courtship during our voyage home from Porto Bello many months before that. I shook my head. “I am not so besotted with my life that I am prone to imagine things that do not exist. You two were in love once.”

  “Oui, but it was a passing thing, it always is,” Cudro sighed. “I…” He shook his head and smiled. “If our Chris really was a youth, I would cry myself to sleep every night for the want of him. I favor young men when they’re as lanky as colts and sleek as cats, with a brash new cock emerging from its nest; but I’ve never been intrigued by weak, foppish, or effeminate men. So invariably, I find a young lover, teach him what I know, and then he grows such that he no longer wants to be a boy—mine or anyone’s. That conversation the other day with our new boy echoed many things I knew, and gave me a great deal to think on.”

  He met my gaze. “I don’t know how I’ll find a long-term companion, Will. It’s no different now than it was when last we talked on Cow Island that night. Do you remember that?”

  “Oui, I do. I recall you were lamenting the paradox of needing a man who could be your equal as a matelot, and yearning for a pretty catamite who could never be seen as your equal. Ash was the compromise.”

  Cudro rumbled with amusement. “He’s not a pretty boy.”

  “Non, he is not,” I said with a chuckle.

  “He has a nice arse, though; and a pretty cock.”

  I had seen both; though I had not witnessed the latter in its glory. They were some of Ash’s better assets. I nodded my assent and helped push the beast onto its other side.

  “He’s been a good matelot, though,” Cudro said soberly when he was able to start cutting again. “Unless we’re around women. Not Madame Striker or your wives, non; but when we went to the Carolinas to trade, he was very careful to avoid me when flirting with tavern wenches. When I would ask if he would rather settle there, he would profess he still wished to rove and be a sailor if not a buccaneer. That’s why we wished to come with you. He claimed he was quite content with what we had and that he would remain so until he wished to settle down.” He shrugged again. “And I was content with that.”

  I understood, though it still saddened me. And I had seen that of which he spoke. I had not understood it for what it was, but I had seen it. Ash had ever been careful to not be affectionate with his partner when women were about. He behaved somewhat differently when they were only around men.

  I wondered what else I had been oblivious too. “How is everyone else?” I asked. “Are Dickey and the Bard on the threshold of separation, too? Because you are correct, I do not always see things as they are, perhaps.”

  He grinned. “They’re well enough, I suppose. The Bard used to fear the impasse I have reached with Ash, but now I feel he’s come to trust that Dickey doesn’t want anything other than what they have. Julio and Davey, well, Julio could do better, but he’s too damn loyal.”

  “Oui,” I sighed. “I pity Julio…”

  And I hoped they had not remained on Tortuga. I pushed it aside. There was nothing I could know or do about that matter.

  Cudro nodded; then he shook it all away with a great sigh and shrug. “I’ve been thinking that perhaps we should let the boys have what they want. Not that Chris is amenable to having anyone as a matelot, but maybe she…” he paused to swear softly. “He would be well enough with Ash.”

  “Non,” I said quickly, and he regarded me with a raised eyebrow. I sighed. “And it is not because she seems angry with him of late. Non, on a practical note, it is because of the reason for her anger: Ash is besotted; and not in the way your average buccaneer is with a new man. He will likely attempt to treat him—her—like a lady, and attempt to protect her to an extent that will not aid the ruse. And, I am angry at Ash for his abuse of you. No matter how things are between you now, he should at least show you respect and courtesy and not be mooning over her every moment.”

  The big Dutchman laughed. “I remind m
yself once again to never anger you.” He clasped my shoulder. “Thank you for being my friend.”

  “Non, thank you. I know not what Gaston and I would do without our friends.”

  Cudro winked at me. “Earn new ones.” With a smile he handed me the beast’s heart.

  We spoke of nothing more of import as we finished removing the larger hunks of meat from the carcass. We were just finishing and the light had nearly departed when Pete and Chris returned laden with water. The four of us made our quick but wary way back to the mouth of the stream and the boat.

  “I did not know those creatures grew so large,” Chris whispered as he followed me along the slippery roots. “I have heard tell of ones a score of feet or longer, but I thought that was rum-drenched tale telling.”

  “That is why no man should walk alone in the West Indies,” I said with amusement.

  “Do not…” he said sharply; only to sigh, and then quickly curse as he slipped on a root. “You can argue with Pete over the matter. He says I am useless and no man would want me as a matelot. He was quite incensed I stood there like a pie-eyed cow and watched them kill the creature.” He sighed again. “And he is correct. I did nothing. I just stood there.”

  His honesty evoked some sympathy. “At least you did not piss yourself,” I said. “I might have at your age, before I had ever seen a battle or…” I shrugged. “And I am not attempting to patronize you.”

  “Non, I understand. I believe I am a few years older than you were when you left your father’s house; and because of my sex, I have seen nothing: I have done nothing.”

  “You have done a thing I have not,” I said with amusement.

  “What?”

  “Given birth.”

  He snorted. “That is a thing of women; and, as you have all made quite clear, useless in these West Indies.”

  “True, somewhat; but simply remember this the next time any of us harangues you: Pete could not do it.”

  He began to chuckle. “Oui, I would like to see that high and mighty bastard manage that,” he muttered.

  I laughed too, until I recalled an aspect of the matter that sobered me handily. I stopped and turned to him before we reached the boat. “Never rub his nose in that,” I said quietly. “It is the one thing he could not give Striker.”

  To my surprise, he appeared stricken with the understanding, and he nodded quickly. “I will not say a word.”

  I smiled. “Just hold it in your heart.”

  He smiled.

  Cudro and Pete had been talking as we went as well: they had decided to risk cooking the organs and some of the meat tonight. As Chris and I joined them, they were already busy finding a hollow to build the fire in so that the flames could not be seen from the sea. Not seeing my matelot, I left Ash and Chris to assist them and went to find Gaston.

  He was returning along the narrow strip of beach to the north of the inlet, with two fish slung over his shoulder. He peered at me in what was left of the waning light.

  “Will, you stink. Did you roll in the mud? Are you covered in leeches?”

  I laughed and dutifully splashed out into the water to wash the mud and blood away.

  “Is that blood?” he asked after another sniff.

  “Oui. We found something else to eat. It was quite determined to eat me, apparently.” I returned to his side and pulled one of the teeth from my belt pouch and laid it in his palm in the darkness.

  He was quiet; then there was a sharp intake of breath; then his arms were tight about me.

  “I am fine,” I murmured. Then I told him of what occurred. I finished with, “I hope that is not the only one I ever see.”

  “I pray to the Gods it is,” he said quite seriously. “I cannot let you go anywhere, alone.”

  His words echoed mine to Chris, and I found myself smiling. “We were fools, three men without our matelots; but at least we were fine friends.”

  He sighed into my shoulder. “Oui, but I would rather be there if you are to be eaten by some beast; because then I know all will have been done to defend you, and I will not be left blaming another.”

  I understood that. “Well, my love, the same goes for you.” I kissed him and he returned it with surprising fervor.

  “Are we spending the night here?” he breathed in my ear when he left my now-hungry mouth.

  “I think so,” I breathed.

  “Good.” He toppled me into the sand and made me forget about cayman and all manner of monsters.

  Thus I was quite surprised when he whispered, “I feel weak,” as he held me in the aftermath.

  “Truly, you could have fooled me just now,” I said lightly. Still, now that I listened to his heavy breathing against the surf, and the rumbled catch of fluid still in his lungs and throat, I understood. “You will heal,” I assured us both.

  “I know,” he said with more doubt than I liked. “But this is not a good voyage for me to be weak. We are so few… And not all is well with the others. Pete is Pete, and Cudro is Cudro, but Chris is a… boy, and Ash is only a shade better.”

  “I was able to speak to Cudro,” I said. I told him what the Dutchman said concerning Ash. “How are we?”

  Gaston snorted into my neck, but then he pulled away a little and I felt him settle his head on his elbow and regard me.

  “We are well. I am well,” he said with thoughtful surety. “Not yet in body, non; but if I think on it, in spirit, oui. My Horse is quiet, and though I am anxious about this voyage, I am not anxious about our future beyond it. I suppose that is remarkable. I am pleased they have sailed to the Netherlands and we have escaped—everything—to sail to Île de la Vachon for a time. I suppose I should feel guilt over that, but I do not.”

  I smiled though he could not see it. “I feel no guilt, either. I feel well. My only concern—beyond this voyage—is Chris and the havoc he has wrought and might yet wreak. It seems we can never quite empty the cart; and I feel our cart often overturns others’ as we go rolling down the road. It is as if we cannot stop and they are forced to veer off the path in order to avoid us.

  “I have spent these last weeks thanking the Gods you are alive and well, and… feeling that others should simply make the best of the situation. But, today, talking to Cudro, I realized how very blind I have been—yet again. I am ever—well, we are ever—the center of our lives; and, despite my recurrent guilt, I feel all must revolve around us. My guilt, compassion, duty, what-have-you, is never enough to lever us from this position of primacy in the solar system of our existence.”

  “Did you feel thus before trouble came to us in Cayonne?” he asked.

  I tried to recall my thoughts throughout the spring. I shook my head. I understood what he meant. “I do not feel thus when we frolic, non: I did not feel thus this spring in Cayonne; I did not feel thus last fall on the Haiti; I do not feel thus when we rove…”

  He nodded sagely. “You do not feel thus when the road is level.”

  “Non, I do not.” I rolled to face him and propped my head on my arm.

  He rubbed my free arm. “You are correct. We shoulder them aside and make them change their course when we are pulling uphill, because if we stop and pay heed to them we will perhaps not be able to get rolling again.”

  I envisioned us as centaurs, pulling hard up a hill with a cart full of Agnes, Yvette, Chris, Gaston’s father, and the babies—and oddly, the Gods. Our wagon was sturdy and held them well; but with our heads and shoulders down to pull, we were not seeing the smaller carts careening off the road ahead of us. Cudro and Ash scrambled to move their rickety vehicle from our path. Theodore and Rachel rolled off one side of the road while little Elizabeth and the shades of her brothers cried. Striker, Pete and Sarah had been trying to pull one cart, and I could see that arrangement was unstable: thus I did not view Pete becoming separated from them and remaining on the road with dismay.

  I told Gaston of this image.

  “I do not see it that way,” he said with bemusement. “Or rather, I see the G
ods plucking them up as we drive them from the road and tossing them into our cart. We have disrupted their lives; therefore we are responsible for them.”

  I could envision that too. “Oui, that we are, but…” I could now see us as two centaurs pulling a huge, over-laden dray up a hill. “So, all must revolve around us because we are the only ones pulling?” I asked with alarm.

  I heard Gaston shake his head. “Non. They are… pulling yet. Non, my allegory was incorrect. We push them aside and the Gods toss them behind us and then our friends choose to follow us, because we are the ones making a path.”

  I could see that, too: our wagon moving ever-upward with a train of smaller carts behind it.

  “But it is our path,” I said. “Why do they follow us? I guess that has long been my question.”

  “We have purpose, Will. We are going somewhere,” my matelot said thoughtfully.

  It was true. We were a thing the Gods placed in their lives. But yet…

  “Why do I still feel guilt?” I asked.

  “You wish to perceive others as being like you,” Gaston said with amusement.

  I chuckled. “That is very similar to a thing Cudro said.”

  “He is correct, you wish for everyone to be in love and happy,” Gaston teased.

  “Non, just the people I like.”

  “Some people want the impossible, my love,” he said seriously.

  “I know, and I know Cudro is one of them,” I sighed. “It still saddens me.”

  “And we did not choose to bring Chris here,” he added. “His presence here is entirely his doing.”

  “True, non, still I feel… responsible: as if the Gods do pluck them up in our wake and throw them onto the road behind us; and, even if they possess a greater inclination to sheepliness—or rather, because they do—it is our duty to choose a path that benefits them—which I suppose we have. By the Gods, I suppose I simply wish to feel guilt.”

  “You should not feel guilt. We do not set bait and catch them. We have not pursued anyone we know and made them follow. We have not set our path to chase them down and drive them from the road. We are obstacles the Gods have placed in their lives—just as they are obstacles the Gods have placed in ours.”