It was damn cold and I was thankful my already ailing body felt no need to relieve itself in another fashion, as Belfry had clearly instructed us that any business we must attend to was done on the bow, downwind of everyone else. I did not want to imagine how cold one would be once one dropped trou and squatted on the little rails, above the waves in the wind and spray. I had been lucky to find a chamber pot in my cabin on my last crossing to England, and been able to pay a boy to empty it.
I was somewhat warm on the deck at the moment, since I had dropped down into the multitude of bodies. My elbow was in some poor man’s back, and I was practically sitting on another’s feet. This man was quiet and tucked into the shadows beneath the gunwale, and in my duress I had not noticed him.
“I am sorry if I trod upon you,” I said.
I could see him shrug in the moonlight, though I could not clearly see his face.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked with a rich pleasant voice.
“Nay, but at least I am empty.”
He chuckled at that. “Everyone seems to be ill; thankfully, I have not contracted this malady yet.”
“It is seasickness, and I have been assured it will pass, though I fear it will not.”
“I have never been on a boat before,” he said. “I must be lucky; though it could strike on the morrow, I would guess.”
“I am Marsdale, who might you be?” I extended my hand.
“Charles Fletcher,” he said, and gave me a firm handshake.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Fletcher.”
“Likewise.”
“And why, may I ask, have you signed on for this endeavor?”
I could see his toothy smile in the moonlight. “I am a miller by trade, and I had no prospects. A fellow talked to the master miller I apprenticed with, and said they were looking for millers in Jamaica to learn to operate sugar cane mills. I don’t know what this sugar cane looks like, but I have no family here, well in England, and so no reason to stay – so I decided to see something else of the world and take my chances.”
“Good for you.”
“And you, sir?”
I wanted no more fawning and I did not wish to scare him, so I was torn as to whether to speak the truth. Lies were not worth the trouble they could cause on such a long voyage, though. “I am the man you are indentured to; or rather my father is, and I am his agent.”
“Oh… I apologize for being forward, sir.”
“Pish,” I snorted. “If I did not wish to speak with you, I would not be doing so, now would I?”
“I would not think so, sir.”
“So, Mister Fletcher, as I cannot sleep in my present condition, and you also seem to be quite awake, tell me of milling. It is a thing I know little of, yet I eat bread on a regular basis.”
He seemed quite content with this turn of topic, and lulled me into a peaceful state of mind – despite the duress of my stomach – with a very informative lecture on the proper way to grind grain and the placement of water wheels.
Later I returned to my hammock and found it quite satisfactory: the swaying it performed now, in accordance with the movement of the ship, somehow served to minimize the movement I felt overall. Despite the stench and the constant moaning and caterwauling from Harry – and now Dickey, who had also become quite ill – I stayed in my hammock most of the next day. I moved only under the duress of another bout of nausea.
In the afternoon, I found myself on deck again, next to Fletcher. In the light of day, I was pleased to see him as an honest-faced man of large proportions. He seemed concerned by my presence, and I noted Belfry watching from the quarterdeck.
“What is amiss?” I asked.
“Well, sir, the second officer said we were not to converse with the paying passengers, and… Well, sir, knowing you are our master… well, sir, does that apply?”
I glared at him and then at Belfry, who I summoned with a flick of my finger.
Poor Belfry tried to affect a manner of seriousness and gravity, and only succeeded in making himself appear constipated.
“Is there a problem, Lord Marsdale?” he asked diffidently.
“I was informed there is a rule against fraternisation between the passengers and the cargo.”
He sighed and looked perplexed. “My Lord, um, well sir, usually we do not allow them to mingle with the paying passengers, as the passengers do not wish it. You are an exception of course, my Lord, in all things.”
I laughed. “Thank you for that fine assessment of my character, Belfry.”
“Lord, I did not…”
I waved him off. “And how are things today, Mister Belfry?”
“Fine, my Lord; we have a good wind off the starboard quarter and we’re making way. How are we feeling today?”
“Not well, but thank you for your inquiry.”
With that, Belfry returned to the quarterdeck; and I watched the sails for a moment as another bout of nausea gripped me. It was good to be a wolf, but my stomach cared not for the matter.
“May I ask a question of a personal nature….my Lord?” Fletcher asked quietly.
I nodded.
“You are a nobleman?”
I eyed him and the others listening to us with a heavy sigh. “I am the Viscount of Marsdale. My father is the Earl of Dorshire.”
All eyes went wide.
“Oh, stop, it is a mere accident of birth.”
The sailor rummaging in the nearby equipment locker chuckled at that, and I eyed him curiously. He was a powerfully-built young man with dark hair and the glint of amusement in his eye. That interested me. I did not see it in the eyes of the others around us. His gaze flicked my way, and held on mine when he saw I was watching him. There was a degree of diffidence, and he almost dropped his eyes; then defiance flared for a moment, and he held my stare. I smiled at him.
“Tell me, how do you all combat this affliction?” I asked him.
“It passes,” he said kindly. “Don’t return often once it does. My Lord,” he added belatedly.
I snorted and waved him off. “How long?”
“I was sick a month first time I was at sea, my Lord. Course I weren’t in any good health to begin with.”
“Truly? Why?”
“Press gang.”
“This ship?”
“Navy.”
“How old were you?”
“Fourteen.”
He appeared to be of an age with me; so after being kidnapped, he had spent close to half his life at sea. Once again I thought of Big John and his band of boys.
“Do you enjoy being at sea?”
He shrugged his massive shoulders. “Don’t know nuthin’ else, my Lord.”
“What is your name?”
“Davey Moore.”
“Nice to meet you, Mister Moore; I would stand, but I am somewhat incapacitated.”
He chuckled. “You should lay there, sir… my Lord. An’ it just be Davey. Don’t trouble yourself on account o’ me.” He went about his business with an impish grin, and I decided I liked him.
The bondsmen in earshot were staring at me, and I sighed and slowly began to get to my feet. I regarded Fletcher when I reached my knees. He was watching me with a mixture of awe and fear.
“Mister Belfry is correct; you are quite eccentric, are you not, my Lord?” he asked.
I grinned. “Aye. And you would do well to appreciate it, and not expect me to act as if I am something I am not.” I meant well by the words; but I was not sure how he interpreted them as I made my way back to my cabin. I reminded myself once again of the truth of the matter: I was the one who should heed my own advice, and not expect others to be things they were not. But I truly yearned for some of them to be wolves and not sheep. I was lonely. For now, though, I would need to learn to be happy herding the flock I had gathered. I am sure it is a lonely path for all wolves who choose it.
Thankfully, I felt I had the Gods as allies in the endeavor.
Five
Wher
ein I Sail Home To Jamaica
The affliction continued for most of a fortnight before abating. Finally, as we approached the Tropic of Cancer three weeks later, I was starting to feel rather well. Except for a few poor souls, everyone had either recovered or was making great strides on the matter. Four bondsmen had died since we sailed, one of them from a sudden onset of pain to his abdomen. In the other three cases, it had not necessarily been from seasickness, but as Belfry had warned, more from the sickness taking its toll on bodies already taxed by some illness they had contracted prior to embarking. Three more men looked to be in such a state that they would not last the week. I was told there was little that could be done for them; though, true to his word, Belfry was seeing that all were well-fed and looked after.
The weather had turned quite balmy as we approached the tropics, and I quickly found my coat and hose to be too hot. So I ceased wearing a coat and took to walking the decks barefoot: much to the amusement of my cabin mates and the chagrin of the Captain and officers, who gave no ground to the heat other than to doff their periwigs. I cared not for their opinion, as I was comfortable, while they became more and more miserable as the temperature climbed. As most of the men, sailors and bondsmen alike, were also shedding layers of clothing, they seemed pleased I was one of their number in regard to the matter.
In that and other ways, I began to be known to them and they to me. As they lost their fear of my rank, they began to speak openly in my presence, and thus became men and not just sheep in my eyes. In addition to Fletcher, I met Grisholm. At thirty-six, he was the oldest man we signed; and Steins had only done so because Grisholm was skilled as a carpenter. I learned the brothers we signed first were named Jenkins. Billy was the younger and Bobby the older. Patterson had been accused of a theft he swore he had not committed. Humboldt’s wife and child had died in the plague; and now he was traveling because he did not wish to marry his wife’s sister, who was also widowed.
In the back of my thoughts, I could well hear Shane and my father scoffing at me, and even see the sad shake of Alonso’s head. I was a piss- poor wolf. You were not supposed to befriend anything you might have to eat. Yet I continued to think of myself as a lonely shepherd, and took comfort in the image.
Truly, I embraced it. After learning that Fletcher could not read, I began to give lessons. I have never endeavored to teach another such a thing, and quickly found the process both frustrating and rewarding. Soon almost all of the men, including the sailors, sat quietly and listened to my instruction. The captain was gracious enough to allow this disruption of the daily activities, only because he thought it proper that all men be able to read the Bible.
I thought it important that all men on a ship know how to read a chart and navigate, but I did not broach this with Starling. Instead I took to having Belfry give me lessons as he was able. In exchange, I aided him in taking the log readings and kept him company on the night watches. I found I hated the shipboard schedule of watch changes every four hours. A man cannot sleep properly when he is expected to be awake for four hours, asleep for the next, and so on. Yet Belfry assured me it was the proper way of things and all ships practiced it.
My cabin mates often joined me in the endeavor of learning sailing. Soon we were all trying to guess what orders the captain or the first officer would give as the wind changed. Tom seemed to possess the most talent at this, and I often teased him that he should have taken a commission in the Navy after all. As he truly hated the watch schedule, he disagreed.
On another front, the return of my health and the increasing heat and resultant lack of clothing amongst threescore men became a source of consternation for me. My libido had returned, and I found myself confronted at every turn by something my manhood found of interest. I retreated to my cabin to handle myself as often as I dared without arousing suspicion; though my attempt to dissemble about it was a fool’s errand, as everyone was thus engaged. In a week, I thrice came upon men in the act of buggery, and had to force myself to turn away and not watch. Not so much for the sake of their privacy, as for the sake of my sanity, as I would find it far too frustrating to witness without wanting some of the same.
I was aware that I could have had just about any man on the ship, if I so chose; but that seemed a wrongful use of my position of authority, and I knew I would not enjoy any conquest in that manner. In truth, I was sure any tryst I deigned to engage in would be heavily tainted by the other man’s knowledge of my title, even were I not his master.
At first I decided any possible dalliance would therefore be unacceptable under the circumstances, and I would have to survive with my own good hand. Then I saw yet another pair of men fucking and decided enough was enough. I had needs, and there were people presumably available and willing to satiate them. Yet I was unwilling to approach the sailors or bondsmen who met my eye in the moonlight amongst the snoring mass. On one hand, they were sheep, and I have never harbored much interest in them unless it is for a simple tryst. And on the other hand, if my quarry were not discreet, news of the encounter would be all about the ship by morning. It has been my experience that men in authority, which I surely was as their shepherd if not their master, have a more difficult time maintaining respect and order, if all about them know what they shout when the pleasure grips them. Nay, discretion was required if I was to proceed; and therefore I must choose my target wisely.
And so I began to waste endless hours considering the men around me. I was not interested in Belfry. Fletcher, though a sheep, was an apt pupil at letters, and a fine man with a good heart in everything I saw him do or heard him say. I did not think this intrinsic goodness was due to his abiding faith in God, as I have met many an evil God-fearing man, at least within my definition of such things. Yet, his religious conviction did keep him from any act he considered sinful. The night I found him praying for the souls of two coupling sailors I abandoned all thought of him.
My roommates were of interest to me, but that situation also did not appear to be mutual or possible.
“I do not understand how any man could bear to be with another,” Tom said one night after literally stumbling upon a coupling on deck.
“Have you never found another man attractive?” I asked with a teasing grin.
He raised an eyebrow at my question. “Aye, and horses on rare occasion, but I do not fuck them. That is why God made women.”
“What if there were no women?” I asked.
“Tom can always find women,” Harry bragged.
Dickey was in his hammock studying the ceiling. “Aye, he can.”
“The sailors on this ship are not allowed ashore. And no women come aboard. What are they to do?” I asked.
“Then they should bloody well kill someone and find a way to get off,” Tom said, and rolled over in his hammock to sleep.
I thought it was spoken like a wolf, and I understood his sentiment; but at the same time, it angered me. I told myself he was just a boy who had no real understanding of what he would do in many situations.
Harry nodded his agreement with Tom. He always agreed with Tom. He often followed Tom with his eyes. I was amused at that, rather than angry. I had often seen that before, too.
Dickey continued to stare at the ceiling, deep in thought. He was not the type of man who appealed to me. And though he was quite the fop, I also did not feel he favored men. However, the poor man had probably been told that being effete equaled being a sodomite so many times that he wondered, himself. On this voyage, it did not help that he seemed to blush at everything sexual.
Tom ribbed him about this continually. Despite this, and I guessed, despite many things, Dickey was devoted to Tom. To my experienced eye, it was obvious he thought of the other man as a friend, though, and did not harbor other desires. For one thing, though he blushed at any mention of sex and at the act itself, he did not ever blush upon seeing a man naked, not even Tom.
I crossed them all off my list.
So that left Davey, who was one of the men I h
ad seen engaged in sodomy, and so knew possessed an obvious willingness about the subject. He was quite attractive, far more so than any man I had been with save Alonso, or in truth, Shane. I had been spending a good deal of time around him while learning about sailing, and I had caught him eyeing me a number of times. The stage seemed set, and I but awaited my cue to enter and say my lines.
We were sailing west of Africa now, and approaching the Tropic of Cancer. By the Captain’s estimation, we would cross thirty degrees North latitude at approximately midnight, due to our good tailwind and not yet being caught in the doldrums that usually plagued ships just outside the trade winds. As the wind continued into the early afternoon, we were informed there would be a party for all aboard that night. This would include the tapping of a keg of wine. With glee I awaited the night, as this would be an obvious chance to slip away to some nook in the hold with a crew member.
The afternoon rolled around, and I sat with Fletcher and Harry in what had become Fletcher’s accustomed place: next to the port gunwale and the forward wall of the passenger cabin. Davey joined us, and I eyed him happily. I think he was beginning to read my looks correctly. His face seemed to alternate between speculation and anxiety as he regarded me.
“So is there a party every time the ship crosses this line?” Harry asked.
Davey nodded and shrugged. “It’s tradition. It’s not as important as crossin’ the Equator, though.”
“I wonder why,” I mused. “Though I assume it is more likely an excuse to have a party than any meaning being attributed to this or that line.”
“Sometimes we’re in the doldrums for days tryin’ ta reach it, and then we celebrate ’cause we made it and we should hit the trades soon,” Davey replied.
I had to agree with that. It was my understanding that we had been lucky so far, and we had made good time traveling south from England under benefit of fickle winds.
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