Raised By Wolves 1 - Brethren (83 page)

“Has anyone threatened a duel as of yet?” I asked. They all regarded me with surprise. “Perhaps you should finish lecturing him,” I sighed.

“He is being flirtatious,” Dickey said. “He has no intention of bedding the man.”

“I was not,” Tom said. “They had some rum. I agreed to dance.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Jackson.”

“Which one is Jackson?”

“You have seen him,” Belfry said. “He’s tall, a musketeer, very muscular with dark hair.”

Gaston laughed. I regarded Belfry quizzically. “As we have been at sea for a month with the same men on a small ship, I am sure I have seen him, but you will have to do better than that.”

“Aye,” Dickey said, “You have only eliminated fifteen of over eighty men. Jackson is one of Hasting’s men.”

I swore.

“What does that matter?” Tom asked.

I could not tell him my suspicions because if I did it would be all over the ship. “It has nothing to do with who you choose to associate with. It may have a great deal with who chooses to associate with you.”

I could see Hastings putting one of his men up to seducing Tom, just to anger Cudro into doing something stupid.

Tom leaned on the table and smirked. “I am not taking a matelot.

I have no need of one. So I will not add to the political turmoil on this vessel.”

“You do not have to take a matelot to add to the turmoil,” I said.

“You are actually causing more trouble by not taking one. If you are with one man, then there is less for speculation and no one can be using you as a tool to provoke others.”

He rolled his eyes, and I knew he was too drunk to engage in this discussion. Dickey and Belfry were frowning at me, though.

“What do you mean?” Dickey asked. “I have been concerned that he will get himself abused because someone will not realize he is merely flirting.”

“I am concerned that he will be used as a pawn to provoke a duel that will change the balance of power on this ship,” I said. “And even if that were not an issue, he is an attractive man, and there are lonely men who wish to be with him; and that can cause duels if he favors one over another, even without commitment, actually especially without commitment. This is a serious matter that someone, including Tom, could lose his life over. For example, if he were abused, he would be expected to duel to defend his honor.” I winced inwardly as I said it. “Is he capable of such a thing, or would you feel the need to step forward in his place?”

I could see that Dickey now grasped the situation. Belfry appeared horrified. Even Tom seemed to have listened. He was frowning.

“Truly?” he asked.

“Yes. Matelotage is a very serious matter, and trifling with men’s affections in these parts carries far more weight than dallying with maidens, though I have known many a court situation where the gravity would be equal to this. Young English ladies in the country are seldom armed, and other young gentleman who may feel the need to compete for them are, thankfully, seldom competent at dueling. The man worth the most pounds per year always wins anyway. Here, the man you spurn may kill you, or another man may kill him. Toying with them is not a game. Here you must get married or not dally at all. And I do realize how that goes against your nature, but by your own account you do not favor men.”

“I have mused upon a possible solution,” I added. “Aye, I do waste my time thinking of your social status, and meddling is a recreation of mine. You may wish to consider pairing with someone in name only. For example, if Dickey and you were to declare yourselves as matelots and act it to some degree, then that would alleviate the other tensions for as long as Dickey sailed with us.”

“Nay,” Dickey said.

I sighed. “I am not asking you to bugger one another; and believe me, it would make neither of you appear less manly amongst the Brethren.”

Dickey’s eyes flicked from me to Gaston and back. “It is a serious issue; and if I am to engage in such a thing, it will be sincerely and with someone I am willing to die for.”

I was, of course, not the only one surprised at this. Dickey looked at Belfry and Tom and gave an apologetic shrug.

“You are my friends, but…. Please take no offense.” He stood. “With your leave,” he said formally, and left us.

Tom was quite flummoxed, but Belfry seemed more concerned than fazed.

“Well, then,” Belfry said. “Perhaps we should find our beds as well.”

“May I sleep here?” Tom asked. He was still staring at the door.

“If you do not mind sleeping upon the floor,” I said.

Tom shook his head. He did not move.

“Well, then,” Belfry said. “I will go to our cabin then.”

We wished him a good night, or rather morning, and watched him go. Tom had not moved.

“Are you well?” I asked. He shook his head.

“He has always cared for me,” he said dully. “I cannot believe I have angered him so greatly that he will no longer care for me.”

Gaston and I exchanged a look.

“Tom,” I said kindly. “It is late, or early, and we are all tired, as I am sure Dickey is. Let us sleep on it, and perhaps you two can speak in the sober light of day and reach an understanding.”

Tom shook his head, and slid off the chair to crawl into a corner and sleep. In my own way, I was as baffled by the outcome as Tom. I looked to Gaston, and he shrugged and turned down the lamp. We returned to our hammock and cuddled together. I lay awake and watched the reflected moonlight glint off the ceiling. I was beginning to feel I knew nothing of people and all of my suppositions concerning others might be suspect. For all I knew, Hastings was our staunchest ally.

We woke to Pete and Striker snoring loudly in their hammock and Tom curled uncomfortably in the corner. We took our time with our rudimentary morning toilet, and went out into the sun. Men were strewn everywhere, as if they had been thrown by a giant hand. All of them were snoring or drooling and apparently alive. I harbored a suspicion that there had been several heretofore-unknown caches of alcohol.

We found the Bard at the whipstaff. He appeared half dead. I pried his hand from it. “Go lie down.”

“Where’s Tom?” he asked.

“Dead to the world in our cabin,” I said. He raised an eyebrow. “I do not feel I have the liberty to speak of the reason for it. He was drunk; ours was a safe place for him to sleep without complication.”

He frowned but shrugged. “I can’t sleep without someone to relieve me.”“Are we on a proper course?”

“Aye, but we are beating.” He showed me the heading we were on and the one we needed for Hispaniola. I understood that, and as Gaston paid close attention as well, I knew we were at least capable of staying on course.

“Will we need to tack right away?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“Then rouse Belfry, and we will manage.”

He frowned at me and then at Gaston, and shrugged. “We’re in open ocean and the weather is fine. I don’t suppose you can wreck her.”

“Never assume, but we will do our utmost not to.” I took the staff and he went to his cabin. I felt the pull of the rudder and tested my control a little. The ship felt as though it were a living thing, much like a horse that I was controlling more by her good nature than any degree of power I could exercise.

Gaston was grinning at me. “You finally have the helm. Are you proud of yourself?”

“Oui, I am. I like this. For the moment. I will become quite frustrated when it comes time to tell the crew to adjust the sails for the tack, as I know the words but I am sure I will misuse them, and they will stare at me as if I am daft.”

Gaston looked about and grinned. “There are crewmen to adjust the sails?”

“That may be a problem then.”

My matelot walked the deck and found a number of somewhat-coherent crewmen; and they were prepared to tack when it came time, as long as they could sleep again afterwards.

Whilst he was at this, Dickey emerged from their cabin and joined me. “May I ask you a question?”

“As long as it is not the name of that sail yonder.”

“That is the main topgallant,” he said.

I sighed.

He grinned and pointed at each sail on the main mast from top to bottom. “Topgallant, main, course.”

“All right, then, you may question me once you find food for us.”

He chuckled and went in search of food. He returned after Gaston had found my sailors. Dickey handed us fruit and cold roast beef. We ate happily and I nodded at him.

“Ask away.”

“Is love something one finds or is it something one builds?”

We choked on our food for a moment, and I laughed. “Good Lord, man, men have spent their lives pondering that question!”

“In your experience.”

I thought on my experience and regarded my one true example.

“Both. You find the kernel of it, and then it grows with a great deal of nurturing.”

Gaston nodded his agreement.

Dickey regarded the horizon thoughtfully. “I wish to find or grow love.”

I swallowed a lump of meat I was not finished chewing, so that my mouth would be free to say nothing.

“It will cost in ways you never consider, and it will be worth any price,” Gaston said.

I was touched by his answer, and I nodded thoughtful agreement.

Then I turned my attention back to Dickey. “Where do you intend to seek it?”

He appeared uncomfortable. “I have always thought it would be found in one place, and yet I have learned that this is not always the case. So I will seek it where I find myself and where it finds me.”

“So you are allowing that you may find love with a man?”

“Aye,” he nodded and flushed.

“I have recently encountered several arguments for love between men being superior to love between man and woman, though I have seen couples of both persuasions who have achieved happiness or at least contentment.”

“I have seen more happy pairs of matelots than I have seen happy married couples in England,” Dickey said.

I sighed. “So have I. Something often seems to go sour in marriage; and it becomes a burden and not a thing the participants take delight in. It is a social obligation.”

He nodded. “My parents loathe one another, and they will make each other miserable until one of them shall die; and I think still the misery will continue. Tom’s parents seem to have some affection for each other, at least from what we have witnessed, but still they lead very separate lives, her with her garden meetings and social circles and him with his business. Of our own age, the couples who seemed very much in love during the courtship quickly tired of one another once the knot had been tied. The more in love the harder they fell. Yet none of that seems to hold true here. I talk to man after man who has been with his matelot for years on end, and they still care for one another and share all things.”

“I honestly do not know if that is a nature of men being with men or of the life we lead in the West Indies,” I said. “Though sharing all aspects of one’s life with another does seem to play a part. May I ask you something?” He appeared curious but nodded his assent. “What are your feelings toward Tom?”

He frowned and would not meet my eyes. “Nothing has ever occurred.”

“I am not suggesting it has,” I said quickly. “I am merely curious.”

Though less curious now that he had defended their behavior first and not offered the common answers: he is my friend, brother, what have you. So he had entertained thoughts on the matter.

“He does not love me,” Dickey said.

“Ah,” I said sympathetically. “That is unfortunate, as you have so much history together.”

“Aye, history,” he snorted. “The older we got, the more he pursued the ladies, and the more incidents I had to help him escape. I am truly tired of it.”

“Then that answers my question; and I believe we have reached a point where it would be advantageous to tack, as the wind seems to have played out a bit.”

Thankfully, Dickey and one of the sailors told me what to do at the helm, and Dickey and Gaston directed the other men in bringing us around and setting the yards and the like, as we switched from close-hauled to starboard to close-hailed to port in order to continue working our way up the prevailing northeasterly wind. Our course would eventually take us between Cuba and Jamaica, and into the Windward Passage to reach Tortuga on the northern shore of western Hispaniola.

At the moment, we were presumably south of the Cayman Islands we had careened on, and west of Jamaica.

During this maneuver, Belfry appeared; and seeing all was well, kept silent and went in search of a cup of chocolate. The cook was not available, and Belfry found himself manning the cookfire to heat water. Dickey and Gaston continued to help with the sails; and so the morning proceeded with those of us who were conscious doing what was necessary to keep the ship afloat until the rest recovered sufficiently to function. The decks were not swabbed and stoned until afternoon, and I hoped the wood had not taken the heat badly in the interim.

Striker appeared during my seventh tack, and was quite amused as I did my part to bring her around smartly.

“You may have missed your calling,” he said.

“I had a calling?” I asked.

“Perhaps. What do you know of emeralds?”

“Bloody Hell,” I said. “I can judge them a little but not rate them, as I have seen a good deal of jewelry containing them but not fashioned it or bought it. What are your concerns?”

“How and when to divide them. They are not all equal in value. We did find several smaller boxes inside the chest containing the best of the lot, and I feel them to be worth a fortune if we could find a buyer for them. I do not think we can sell them in the New World and receive anything near their value, though. And I do not think anyone on Tortuga or even Port Royal can give us half their value in a lump sum.

And if we hand them out to the men, the tavern keeps will underrate them to such a degree the men will be robbed while drunk. Not that I can prevent that with any of them, anyway. Obviously the matter will go to a vote; but I wanted another opinion as to the best course of action so that we may convince them of it,” he said quietly.

“All very valid concerns, and I see the dilemma clearly. Let us think on it. Am I to understand that the booty has never been comprised of gems before?”