He considered the waves for a time, and worried his lip with his teeth.
“I would have that,” he said quietly at last. “I wouldn’t have her love Pete as I do, or him love her as he does me. I feel that is selfish, but…”
I smiled. “Nay, it is human. And truly, I feel they will each always love you more than they care for one another, however much that might be.”
He sighed. “I would say, as long as they don’t hate each other, but… I would have them fond of each other, especially since he intends to lie with her. I wouldn’t have her forced for love of me to do a thing she might hate.”
“I do not want that, either.” His words echoed my thoughts on the matter, but that was a thing I could not tell him.
“I suppose I have my work cut out for me,” I said to change the subject. “How long will we have before Port Royal?”
“Depending on the winds, a week possibly,” he said with a shrug and his eyes on the sky, as if he could somehow gauge the winds we would face, two days from now and a hundred leagues from here.
“Well, then,” I said. “I have that much time to teach Ikela enough English to convey to him that we have a very special and honored duty for him to perform.”
“The way you make that sound,” Striker grinned, “just don’t have him thinking he’s to marry her.”
I chuckled. “I would hope that Pete’s bedding her would allay that.”
His grin fled. “Aye, then he’ll probably think she’s Pete’s wife.”
“As mercurial as you are on the topic, I think it will be a long time before there is comfort between the three of you in this arrangement,” I said gently.
“That’s if the arrangement is even made,” he sighed.
“We will do what we can,” I assured him with a hand on his shoulder.
With Ikela looking on, I told Gaston of the plan for our new friend.
“We must teach him English, quickly,” Gaston said. “We must discover his feelings on the matter before entrusting him. His people might not place value on women, and he might take offense at being asked to guard one.”
I had not considered that, and I sighed. “Well, if he wishes to escape into the hills, he can at least do that on Jamaica.”
“True,” he said with a nod. “We should teach him to shoot, too.”
As the sun had sunk too far to provide light for shooting, we watched the blazing sunset and began to teach our charges English. With Pedro, the matter was of course made easy by my speaking Castilian; but with Ikela, each word had to be given an example, either in actuality or with crude sketches in the sand or much gesturing. Thankfully, our warrior proved intelligent. I would have despaired and considered shooting him if he had proven to have Davey’s intellect.
When quiet crept over the cay as men began to bed down for the night, Gaston and I explained that we would be sleeping on the beach. Pedro seemed confused over this, but after a time managed to make a hollow in the sand and settle down. Ikela was not confused in concept; however, he wished to remain very close to Gaston and me. As we had other plans for the moonless night, we did not wish that. We at last got him to stay a short distance from us, but he did not lie in the sand; instead, he sat with his eyes peering. It was some time before we could forget his watching in the dark and sleep.
We slept for a time, and then woke to pleasure one another before dawn, when we would have to board the Lilly: where we expected little privacy on the crowded deck. We were soon storming the gates of Heaven with great fervor, with me above and he deeply clenched inside me. In the light of the slivered, just-risen Moon, I could see little of him but a pale shadow on the paler sand. He was rocking his hips to meet my thrusts, and we were locked together in a world all our own, transported to a place as distant as the stars reflected in his eyes.
Then there was shadow in his eyes and he was throwing me sideways. Feeling the danger about us like a fog, I strove to tear free of it as I fell off him and he twisted out from beneath me. I reached for a weapon, and turned in time to see Gaston rolling upon the ground with a dark shape. Gaston was atop it before I could reach him. I saw his blade flash in the moonlight, and then heard the grunt and gasp of it biting deep into flesh capable of complaining. The knife rose again and again: the protestations of the flesh beneath became weaker with each thrust.
“What’s about?” Liam called softly from nearby.
“We have been attacked while coupling,” I said as I crawled to Gaston’s side.
“What?” he asked.
There was scrambling in the sand about us, and someone lit a torch. Before its light reached us, I knew who lay beneath Gaston: Ikela. He was a black shape marred by blacker holes, lying upon a pool of spreading darkness. The dagger Gaston had given him was in his hand.
Gaston withdrew slowly toward the surf. I scrambled to my feet to reach him. He pulled away, gasping, his eyes wild and glittering.
“My love,” I murmured.
He flung his bloody blade away. “No one will tell me what I will do with you,” he snarled in French. “No one. No one. You are mine. It is as it should be.”
He pulled me to him and then pushed me down. I let him mount me, grateful for the familiar sensation in all the turmoil. I was reeling with knowledge of the event, set all a swirl by the racing conjecture in my heart. Had Ikela truly attacked us? I had to protect Gaston before all thought him mad. Gaston came with a growl.
Torchlight flickered, and our friends exclaimed over the body and called out queries to us. The entire cay was coming alive and alight as the alarm spread.
A shot rang out. Gaston started and pulled free of me. We knelt side by side, peering at the men running about in the uneven light, looking for danger.
Someone approached: Striker.
“We were attacked,” I hissed.
“Aye, aye,” Striker said, and then he was gone.
Gaston let me pull him into my embrace. Once there, he clung to me with fervor, and we sank to the sand.
“Are you wounded?” I asked.
“Non. Thank the Gods you are not.” He ran his hands down my back. “He struck. I thought I could not move you in time. He came so close.”
“I am well, I am well,” I murmured.
I did not feel wounded, and I supposed I was physically as well as I said. My heart and mind were another matter, though.
“Are you well?” I asked.
“Oui,” Gaston said, and took a long steady breath to slow his panting. “He surprised me, and the Horse bolted, but we are well now that the danger has passed.”
He turned to look to the place where we had lain. “I killed him, non?”
“Oui. Many times over,” I said.
He swore quietly and sighed. “I was so overcome with anger that he would dare, that anyone would dare, and it reminded me of my father in some manner.”
I nodded. I wondered what had brought it about. Had Ikela seen his chance to strike in our coupling? And what had he thought to do? And where was Pedro?
I distantly heard Striker speaking in a loud voice; I did not bother to listen to his words. I was sure he offered explanation. I was sure many would laugh, and others would shake their heads that we would be so foolish as to have armed a Negro.
We flinched when a shadow fell on us.
“Will, Gaston?” Cudro queried.
I nodded, not sure if he could truly see the gesture, but I supposed with all the torches there was enough light now.
“He came at us while we coupled,” I said.
“We know,” he said. “It’s the other one. He’s dead.”
“What? Pedro?” I asked.
“If that was his name,” Cudro sighed. “The man on watch at the boats shot him. He said the Negro came running up like a madman and tried to overturn a canoe. He says he yelled at him to stop and stand down, but the Negro kept at it and started yelling something in Spanish. So he shot him.”
I thought of when we had heard the shot in relation to what had occurred here, a
nd I knew that Pedro had gone running upon seeing Ikela’s attack and Gaston’s answer to it.
“Was he able to offer any account of what Pedro was saying?” I asked.
Cudro gave a mighty rumble of a sigh. “The only word we could make out of what he related was sodomite.”
My heart lurched. I felt as if the Gods had yanked my head about so I could see the entirety of it clearly. I heard Shane’s laughter in the shadows.
They had seen us trysting in the moonlight. One had sought to stop it. The other had fled, either from what the first sought to stop, or from how the matter was resolved.
I understood what Gaston had seen. I could envision how Ikela’s face must have been curled with disdain, or hatred, or fear. Anger bloomed in my soul, like a brazier suddenly fanned.
Beyond Cudro, I heard the sounds of amusement rippling across the cay as men were apprised of what had caused such an alarm. I could well understand how many men here would find it humorous: that a Negro would be induced to run in a blind panic at the sight of two men fucking; or that another would come at us with a knife we had given him.
I heard the echo of Shane’s laughter yet again. And then I thought of how Bradley and Morgan must think me the fool. I was gripped by hatred. I hated Ikela for his betrayal. I hated Pedro for his fear. I hated the Brethren for not seeking to be other than what they were: dogs made by wolves: men willing to enslave others in the name of greed and calling it survival.
“Damn them all!” I snarled, and attempted to struggle to my feet. I knew not what I would do, but I could not bear to hear them laugh.
Gaston held me fast. “Will!”
“Let me go!” I fought him. “They will not laugh!”
Pain exploded across my jaw, and my ears rang. I found myself on my back with Gaston atop me, pinning my arms.
“Will! You must stop!” he said.
He seemed to be amused, and this only fueled my rage.
He said something to Cudro. I used this distraction to try and roll him off me. He quickly redoubled his efforts to hold me still.
“Will, do not make me hurt you,” he said firmly.
I was determined to hurt him.
And then he was not alone. There were other hands on me. I struggled, and fear replaced the rage. I opened my mouth to scream and Gaston’s hand covered it.
He pleaded desperately in my ear. “Will, I love you. Stop. Please.”
I was helpless beneath him.
“Please let me have the reins,” he whispered. “You have bolted. Let me help you.”
I could see only him. He eclipsed the stars and the Moon and the circle of faces that must be about us. I could only hear our pounding hearts and the gentle surf. I could smell and taste blood on the hand he held across my mouth. I knew it was not my blood, or his, but Ikela’s.
The Negro warrior had attacked us. Gaston had gone mad, mad enough to let his Horse act, to strike out at one who had inadvertently reminded him of the horrors of his past. And now… I had gone mad, once my Horse had been reminded of the horrors of my past, and of angers I could not assuage. It was the suddenness of it. There we had been assailing Heaven, and then the violence and the fear had struck deep.
I willed myself to go limp, to submit.
His hand moved. “Will?”
“I am not well,” I breathed.
He gave a brief bark of amusement. “Non, you are not.”
I understood his humor now. He laughed at irony, not at me.
“I am calm,” I said. “Please have them release me.”
He nodded, and the phantom-seeming hands withdrew.
“I wish to drug you,” Gaston whispered.
I could still see only him. I nodded.
He moved to prepare the draught. I looked up at the stars. I could hear our friends about us, but thankfully I could not see them. I did not wish to meet their curious gazes. The mere thought of seeing pity or concern on their faces made me close my eyes. I drank the bitter water gratefully.
“Will I sleep?” I asked as he pulled the vial away.
“Non, I did not give you so much. Perhaps later. Now what shall we do, Will?”
I shook my head. “You have the reins.”
“And my footing is sure,” he said solemnly. “And I can pull for a time, but where shall we go, my love?”
I shook my head again. I did not wish to think of the day, or tomorrow, or even the next moment.
“Do you feel this will pass?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Then shall we brave Port Royal, or shall we remain with the ship?”
I sighed. I wished to do neither. I knew that would pass, too.
“Port Royal,” I whispered. “I will be angrier at myself if we do not go as we should. I am ashamed now, and I do not wish to have everyone staring at me.”
“I know,” he said kindly.
And I knew he of all people did truly know how I felt.
“I will be as brave as you always are, though,” I said.
He took a long breath, and sudden tears glistened on his eyelids in the moonlight. I smoothed them away with my thumb.
“I must speak to the others,” he said.
“I will survive their attentions,” I sighed. “I feel the drug upon me.”
He pulled me to sit and handed me my clothes. I did not look about as I dressed, and I tried not to listen as he made arrangements with Pete and Striker to have the rest of our things fetched from the Virgin Queen.
Then Striker was standing before me. I sighed and met his gaze. Amusement curved his features, but his eyes were kind.
“Don’t be angry,” he said. “You tried to save them, and things don’t always go as we hope. How could you know they’d have such a mortal fear of sodomy?” His laughter bubbled forth.
I could not hate him for it, but his words minded me of many of my other attempts at philanthropy.
“Things never seem to occur as I would hope, when I set myself to aiding others,” I said.
“You’ll laugh about it someday,” he said with a grin.
Anger flared anew. “I do not laugh about it...”
“Yet? I can find humor in that damn galleon sinking,” he said with another chuckle.
“Yet,” I conceded. He was correct: my state of mind would pass. The anger left me on the predawn breeze.
“Now,” I said seriously, “I think of Bradley and Morgan finding me the fool, and it fills me with rage. I do not see them trying to help others and…”
“Will,” he chided. “To the Devil with them.”
“I know, I know,” I sighed, “yet I cannot embrace that now, either. I am… distraught.”
“It’s to be expected. You had quite a start.” His eyes sparkled with mirth. “I don’t know what I’d do if Pete were in me and we were attacked.” He chuckled. “Pete would likely want to finish, once he killed the bastard. He’d be quite put out with me for worrying about the matter.”
This brought a smile to my lips. It surprised me. And then on a wave of laudanum, my mirth at the absurdity of the situation bubbled forth, like a spring that would not be stopped.
“Gaston… did… finish,” I admitted through gaps in my laughter.
My matelot returned to us and sighed with relief at my state. I embraced him and he held me solidly.
“He’ll be well,” Striker said, and patted Gaston heartily.
Then Striker sobered somewhat. “You two must return to us. Don’t be tempted to stay in Port Royal, please. I don’t want to face another damn raid without you.”
“We will return,” Gaston assured him.
Then there were others about us, bidding us farewell. I was able to look them in the eye and share their smiles. And then, all too soon, we were upon a boat rowing to the Lilly with our things.
Once I was no longer among men we knew well, I took to avoiding the curious stares, and quickly dropped onto a space of deck Gaston chose beside one of the larboard cannon. Pete and Gaston were with me, an
d beyond them, Farley from the Queen and our wounded and maimed. With all my duties toward civility and movement now past, I found I was overcome with exhaustion. I curled on the deck with Gaston’s thigh beneath my head and slept.
It was evening when I woke; the sun was setting in a brilliant display in our wake. Gaston handed me a water skin and regarded me with sad eyes.
“I feel better,” I assured him. And I did.
He looked away, watching the colored clouds over the rail. I studied him and sipped water.
“We are becoming more alike,” he said after a time.
“Is that not the way of it?” I asked.
He shook his head and did not turn to regard me. “If I become more like you, it is wondrous; but your becoming more like me, I feel that is ruinous.”
I mulled over my recollection of the morning’s events.
“I believe we are reaching a greater understanding of one another,” I said. “I feel I understand how you are when it grips you now, at least in part. I know how I wished to avoid others after and…” I sighed.
His smile was grim. “And I understand what it is like to have to handle me when it occurs.”
I chuckled. “I was so angry at you for finding amusement in it, and then mere moments later I knew you were amused by the irony and not me.”
“I have bruises all about from where you fought me,” he said. “I was scared: first to almost lose you, and then for you to fight me so.”
We smiled at one another, our gazes locked as they had in the room in Puerto del Principe; neither looked away. We at last moved together and kissed. On my part, it had not occurred because I felt the need to end our gazing, but because our bodies had begun to move together of our own accord, as if drawn by some thread between them.
When our lips parted, Gaston whispered, “Pete was studying his plate earlier, and he remarked that it is good we are rich, since we no longer have anything to show for our raiding. He is wrong.”
I grinned. “Oui.”
The Gods had chosen to give us much this voyage.
Forty-Eight
Wherein We Peer at Destiny From a Safe Distance
The winds were fickle as is often their wont, and thus made slow work of a relatively short voyage. Sadly, the delay served in lessening our crowding in an unfortunate manner, as the wounded, and the slaves unaccustomed to sea travel, began to die. When the second man from the Queen began to thrash with fever – Mally, a man we knew, though not well – Gaston asked Farley if he could examine his patients. The young physician seemed somewhat in awe of my matelot’s reputation, and also a bit defensive of his own abilities, but he stood aside and let Gaston inspect them.
Matelots Page 67
