“Well, thank you for telling us the truth of that matter,” the Bard said. “We will tell any who ask about your condition that it is a thing between matelots and not their concern.”
There, he had gone and implied that disturbing concept again.
I snorted. “Thank you, but then, unless they heard of the altercation in the tavern, they will assume my matelot beat me. But I suppose there is no helping it.”
“Nay,” Liam said. “All ’ave ’eard what went on in the tavern. Not proper, but they ’ave ’eard o’ it.” He regarded us seriously. “There be a good deal o’ talk ’bout Gaston.”
“So we have heard,” I said solemnly. “And we have concocted an answer to it that we wish to share with you.”
I looked to Dickey and found him gazing back, consternation contorting his features.
“It is Tom,” he blurted.
“We have guessed as much,” I said.
“I have seen him,” Dickey continued in a rush. “We spoke, or rather, quarreled. He is quite put out over the matter of being left behind on Tortuga. He feels he has been terribly wronged and does not see how he has any blame in the matter. He says he has heard many a tale from the French about Gaston, and that he feels strongly that Gaston is a menace and whatever Mister Doucette was about was in the best interests of all.”
“Dickey, we must kill Tom,” I said sadly.
“Will,” Dickey sighed. “I have known that in my heart since he left you tied to that bed and went to get the priests. I think the only person who knows what all occurred that day, and who does not understand you will eventually find him and duel with him, is Tom. He says he cares not for either of your wrath, and that his new French companions are all in agreement, and that Gaston and you are the ones in danger.”
“The French be truly riled o’er the matter o’ Doucette bein’ maimed such as ’e is,” Liam added.
“We know,” I said. “And in order to counter that, we will need all of your assistance, though it is not your concern, as it only truly affects Gaston and me.”
“I cannot speak for all here,” the Bard said with a lazy smile, “but I feel concern over the matter.”
There were nods all around.
“Then I thank you all. I am honored that we have been blessed with such true friends.”
Liam made a rude noise. “What would ya ’ave o’ us?”
“We have brewed an antidote for the poison being spread about. Some may find it bitter.” I told them of our lie.
The Bard and Julio whistled appreciatively when I finished. Davey appeared confused. Otter and Dickey were thoughtful. Liam was grinning like a fox.
“Sounds likely ta me,” Liam said. “Ya sure it ain’t true?”
I grinned in return. “I leave the dissemination of it to your able hands.”
Otter snorted and his quiet words were flush with amusement and adoration for his matelot. “Will, you best concoct a tale of how he learned of it now, as all who know of him will not believe he has kept it to his breast.”
Liam snorted with mock umbrage.
“That’s easy enough,” the Bard said. “It was a thing between matelots until now, when Gaston’s life has been threatened. We can say we asked of it today, because of the matter at the tavern, and you told us the whole of it for the first time, which is true enough. The tale will be spread over this ship, and when we reach Cow Island, our men will spread it among the French.”
“That is our hope,” I said. “Then Gaston will challenge Tom’s perception of events, and prove him in the wrong by right of a duel.”
“It will take time to spread it among the French,” the Bard asked. “Not much time, but some. It would be best if all have heard the tale before any dueling is done.”
“Aye, we should keep ya from the others at first,” Liam added. He looked to Gaston and grinned. “Ya think ’e can hunt bulls?”
Gaston smirked. “If they are dead, or in some way incapacitated.”
“I feel I shall be quite right within a week,” I protested. “I have been pummeled before.”
“You should heal,” Gaston replied. “But you will not be well for a time. Before then, you will be useless for hunting, but you should be able to follow about.”
I sighed. I knew I should not bridle over it, but it pained me.
Dickey had been thoughtful; he finally spoke. “Tom is scared of both of you. He is in awe of what he has witnessed of your prowess in regards to swords; however, he feels he is quite talented with pistols. He will do all he can to have the choice of weapons if the duel is arranged in the traditional way. He will think he can take you with a pistol.”
I smiled. “Then he is dead man.”
The Bard snorted. “I do not doubt Gaston’s ability, but provided both can shoot, and have dry powder, dueling with pistols is like rolling dice.”
“Only to the uninitiated.” I grinned at them. “How are duels conducted here? I have only seen the one involving cutlasses.”
“Well iffn it be swords, it be like ya saw,” Liam said. “Men circle round an’ the two strip down to all but swords an’ go at it. Iffn it be muskets, the other men dona’ stand about in a circle, they form two lines. An’ the two men stand at thirty paces or so with loaded pieces held at their side. They aim and fire when they be signaled. Iffn it be pistols to start, the two men either stand at twenty paces like they do with muskets, only closer, or they stand back-to-back an’ walk out ten paces and turn an’ fire when signaled.”
“Good, the latter method is the best.”
“It is what Tom will expect,” Dickey said. “I have seen him practice when we were still in England. He would place a bottle on a post and walk out and turn and fire when I signaled him. He is quite good at hitting his target.”
My smile widened. “Good. That is excellent. I find it very easy to kill men who practice with posts, and I am sure Gaston has found it likewise. And even if they should be forced to stand and fire, I do not believe young Tom has faced another so. Bravado, such as Tom is fond of showing, will fail him. Unless a piece does not fire, or one of the combatants cannot aim, the match will go to whoever feels no fear and has the greater confidence. And truly, in the twenty times I have faced another such, I have only had a pistol flash in the pan once.”
“What happened?” the Bard asked.
“My opponent was scared to begin with, and thus hesitant. I lack no qualms about killing another, and I am quite practiced, so I fired first. He flinched when he realized I would. And then when there was no discharge, he thought he had won and hesitated for the joy of that. I threw my pistol at him. He ducked and discharged his piece without aim and missed me. In the next exchange, I shot him in the eye before he aimed.”
They were all amused, even Davey. Gaston was frowning at the floor. I squeezed his hand. He sighed, but did not turn to look at me.
I turned back to the others before the sudden spark of concern could light my features.
“So, if we sail tomorrow, how long before we reach Cow Island?” I asked. “Depending on the winds, of course.”
“Usually five days,” the Bard said with a shrug. “You’ll have plenty of time to rest up. I don’t expect you to take a watch.”
“I can sit about on deck when Gaston does just as well as I can lie here.”
Gaston glared at me.
The Bard chuckled. “Not if your matelot says otherwise.”
“Will you allow me to be first officer?” I asked.
“Only if Gaston says it’s all right,” the Bard said.
They all found amusement in my consternation, even Gaston. Then, thankfully, they all left us alone. Liam appeared quite gleeful to get to his task. Julio leaned down and clasped my shoulder and Davey grinned at me. Dickey muttered that he wished to speak to me later.
Finally, the door closed and I could ask quietly in French. “Have you dueled with pistols before?”
Gaston shook his head. His gaze held both guilt and admonishment when
he turned to me. “Before crossing the Line, I never engaged in a formal duel; children do not do such things. And here, I have dueled several times with swords and fists, much as I fought Cudro, but never pistols. Most of my battles with another have been under the aegis of my madness or a rage that leads to it. They have not been civilized matters.”
“It will be no matter,” I said with forced confidence for both of us. “I know you have no qualms over killing: you will not hesitate to fire. And you are skilled with pistols: you will hit him. And there are tricks I can teach you. We can practice them while we hunt, or rather you tow me about like a sack of turnips while you perform a productive task.”
“You have dueled twenty times?” he asked.
I shrugged a little. “With pistols, far more than that with swords, and fewer with dirks. Usually a match with pistols is to first blood. Not all of my opponents died. Two I wounded so superficially that the match advanced to swords.”
“And you have never lost.” He did not pose it as a question.
“Not… unless it was part of a grander scheme. The hardest thing I feel I ever did in that arena was allowing some damn fool to cut me because it would not have done for me to win in that instance. And in my last duel, I received a wicked gash on my arm because I succeeded in my objective, which was killing a bystander, and had to leave my damn fool opponent thrashing about with a blade. I was forced to block with my arm.”
Gaston smiled. “You must teach me.”
“It is a matter of standing upon the subtle line between not being a post, and not appearing cowardly by dodging. It has to do with stance, and how one turns, and how one walks to the place where one will turn. And of course, one must fire first. You will make fine work of it, I am sure.”
“I am torn,” he sighed. “It is my battle, as it is my name that is tainted; but I feel I must win, and in order to do that I should use my best weapon, which is you. Yet, the concept of having to stand by and watch you duel is not pleasant. But I suppose it is much like battle and I should not harbor such foolish concerns.”
I shook my head. “I understand. I do not wish to watch you do the same, especially with this new knowledge. It is not like battle. I have not been in any true battles beyond taking the ships, but I have witnessed several and I have been embroiled in conflicts with multiple opponents before. In all of those cases, there is much chaos and one’s goal is to survive it and accomplish some goal, such as removing as many of your opponents from the combat as possible. In a duel, there is only the one combatant, and there is no chaos. One has entirely too much time to think. And though both matters ultimately rest in the hands of the fickle Gods, I feel the odds are much in a man’s favor in a battle. In a duel, one man or the other must win, and each combatant only has one target. And, in a pistol duel, you are not allowed to take cover or run about and thus make yourself more difficult to strike.”
He nodded solemnly. “You will instruct me, and I will follow whatever decision you might make concerning my readiness.”
“Truly?”
“Oui. On the condition that you allow me to be the final arbiter of whether or not you are fit to duel if for whatever reason it comes to you and not to me.”
“I could take him now in a pistol duel.” I grinned. “But I will accept your condition.”
“That is wise,” he admonished. “Now you must rest.”
“Only if you remain with me,” I whispered.
He had run along the Palisadoes beach before we left to board the ship, but I knew that exercise would do little to settle his Horse in the face of the crowded decks.
His gaze went to the door and the thunder of feet and voices from the ceiling above. “I feel no need to leave the safety of this table or your side.”
I kissed the back of his hand. He moved so that I could lie down, which I did. Then he kissed me, thoroughly, such that I wished I was not injured.
Despite all the noise, and the looming threats of dueling and cattle, I slept like a babe in his arms.
I was woken by the sound of trysting. It was dark except for small patches of water-reflected light that had stolen through the gallery windows to dapple the ceiling. They illuminated nothing but the presence of the beams. Gaston was already awake, still lying beside me, but propped on his elbow with his back to the room. Judging from the stiffness of his posture, he had been so for some time. With all the sounds of a party reverberating through the wood from the quarterdeck above, the music and festivity ringing through the open door from the main deck, and the raucous sounds coming through the windows, it was as if we were under siege; and I wondered how I had slept at all with no laudanum in my belly. And whoever was having sex on Cudro’s hammock was going at it with great abandon.
I caressed Gaston’s face in the dark and breathed in French, “How are we?”
He kissed my fingertips. “You are my reason for being,” he said huskily.
I surmised we were not doing well. All the people and the noise had to be making his Horse very skittish. I moved so that I could place a palm over each of his ears, and pulled his mouth to mine. He kissed me urgently and I bore it despite the pain in my lip. Then I pressed his head to my chest and held it there with a hand still over his upper ear. He gripped my shoulders tightly, but he did not attempt to pull away.
“I am sorry I am such trouble,” he whispered.
I rubbed his back and spoke lightly. “I fear I shall never suffer boredom in your presence.”
He took a long shuddering breath. “Do you wish for boredom?”
“Non. Never.” I kissed the top of his head. “What can I do to aid you?”
“You have already guessed at the root of it. The sound troubles me: the unpredictability of it. When I am inured to so many it becomes a distant roar, much like the surf, and I do not feel it so. But tonight, I hear every word, and sometimes I think I hear my name and that sets the Horse racing.”
The men trysting in Cudro’s hammock, an arm’s length from us, finished with harmonious grunts and moans.
We held still and silent, and I could hear, or rather not hear, them doing the same. I guessed that, upon returning from their trip to Heaven’s bowers, they now sought to ascertain if they had actually heard us and if we were awake. So we all lay there like mice who have dropped crumbs in earshot of a cat.
This was interrupted by the clatter of two men staggering into the room, shedding weapons, and slamming the door in their wake.
“Let me find the lamp,” Striker gasped.
“Don’NeedIt. KnowThis ArseInTheDark,” Pete said drunkenly.
“This arse best be the only one you know in the dark,” Striker chided with amusement.
There was a muffled “ow” from Cudro’s bunk.
“I just kicked someone,” Striker said with a laugh.
“Don’Care.”
“We just be leavin’.” I did not recognize the voice.
There were sounds of people moving about. In the dim illumination I saw bits and pieces of faces and shoulders as they donned clothing and left us.
“Now,” Striker said, “let me go. Need the damn lamp.” He was laughing quietly and there were sounds of struggle from the shadows near the forward wall. “I am too drunk to climb to ours in the dark.”
“Don’NeedThe DamnHammock. Table.”
“Nay. Will and Gaston,” Striker gasped, but he was laughing again when he fell onto the table above us.
“Don’Care.”
“I will spend myself, you bastard, and I will not do it atop them,” Striker said firmly.
“Floor,” Pete snapped.
“Wait,” Striker called. He slapped the table hard. “Are you bastards awake?”
“How could we not be?” I assured them.
“Why the Devil did you not tell us of this marriage twaddle?” Striker roared.
“Oh Gods,” I sighed.
“LeaveIt! FuckNow! FightLater!”
Striker found this all very funny. He collapsed to the flo
or next to me.
I shook my head, though no one could see my gesture. It would not be the first time we had lain beside them while they coupled. Thankfully, Gaston did not seem as tense as he had before. I could feel the rumble of his amusement through my sore ribs.
We could hear clothes being shed.
“DamnItAll! Where’sThePot?”
Striker laughed harder. “On our hammock, you bastard.”
Gaston reached above my head and retrieved ours. I heard him open it, and then felt him thrust it toward the pair. This was rewarded by a muffled “ow” from Striker.
“ThankYa!” Pete was chuckling now. “HoldStill!”
“It’s your own damn cock,” Striker said.
“ShutYourHole!” Pete muttered with amusement.
“That’s the last thing you want,” his matelot retorted.
Gaston and I were chuckling now. Then Pete apparently got his member where he needed and Striker’s chortling was arrested with a groan I felt in my bowels. We fell silent again, listening to the wet sounds and heavy breathing of their trysting.
Aroused by this activity and Gaston’s presence, and no longer cowed by my aches and pains, my cock stirred steadily toward its full glory until it found itself trapped in a fold of my breeches. I eased a hand between Gaston and me to allow it freedom.
Gaston rumbled anew with amusement and rose on his elbows above me. He commenced to slowly press his groin along my member until I gasped and dug my fingers in his shoulders.
“Roll over,” he hissed in my ear. “If you feel you are able.”
“I feel it will be worth the trouble,” I gasped.
I ignored the complaints of my aching muscles and complied with delicious anticipation. He pushed our breeches down and I felt the hair of his pubis against my bare buttocks. His member tickled me as well, but even my arse could tell it was flaccid. Still, the sensation was intriguing and my cock tightened further still. Then he urged me to rise a little, and bracing himself on one elbow behind me, slid a greased hand beneath me and around my member. I squirmed about. The pain became not just a series of twitches as I moved, but a solid ache; and then suddenly it receded, growing more and more distant as my lust eclipsed all. I experienced nothing but need and pleasure when at last we were braced as was needed for him to hump my rear such that it drove my cock into his palm.
Matelots Page 25
