Fabulous readers,

Haha, so you're all gonna laugh about this. I thought I had posted this chapter, like, a weeks ago, but it turns out that it never got posted. I only realized that as I was looking for it to read so that I can write chapter 4. So yeah, I'm really sorry! You all probably thought that I tried to drop the story again. Well surprise!

While the ship rolled on through the great white waves beneath it, mist sprayed up and spritzed the air with the taste of salt. Jamie was sitting on his private veranda overlooking the ocean waves. His mother was still resting, leaving him with his thoughts which was something he always found to be a delightful treat.

He lounged in his wicker chair with his fingers to his pen and his pen to paper. He tapped the fountain tip against the pale parchment, leaving little blossoms of ink wherever the head landed. He wasn't really paying any attention to what he was doing. He was too distracted by the events of his day. He had jotted down a few story ideas that passed through his mind, some stories he thought would fit best for the passengers he saw while walking about the ship. One of them was bound to spark something interesting to write. Maybe an adventure; somewhere on the ship there could be a french fur trapper heading out to the north to continue his trade. He would marry an indian girl, and live amongst the land for the rest of his life. He began to write a few things while he pondered on what sort of life that would be like. The winters would be harsh, and the dangers would be plentiful. He imagined it would be a hard life, but a fulfilling none the less. It had to be so, otherwise why would anyone choose to live that way.

As he thought of snow drifts blowing down forested mountain sides, those pair of blue eyes flashed in his mind. He was staring off dreamily while his pen seemingly moved on its own.

He was quite modest with his affections towards me. His eyes rarely met mine for often times he stared elsewhere in the room, sometimes even whilst he spoke to me. But on a very rare occasion, his eyes would glance to me and for a treasurable moment, I could gaze at him properly. He was a fine gentleman despite his common attire and nature. I could tell that about him.

His wide shoulders promoted an aura of security; indeed, for he seemed to be a trustworthy individual, one who could keep dreadful secrets and refrain respectfully from harsh jeering towards one deepest insecurities.

How I longed for his hand to graze upon mine own. Our fingers could brush against each other, and our eyes could forever lock in a passionate gaze, sharing an expression of endearing affections. I'd allow him to kiss me. Just a quick, quiet peck upon my lips somewhere secret and hidden on the estate. Perhaps in the garden amongst the summer roses. My lips upon his seemed like such a smart match.

I'd allow him to hold me. Just a tender touch. His arms around my waist. His tall stature towering over my own lithe one.

I'd allow him to wonder with curiosity across my body. His fingers could brush across my chest, my torso, my hips. I'd share a secret passion with him if he let me...

Jamie interjected his own thoughts with unfortunate logic and reason—or perhaps it was his mother's voice that interrupted him. Jamie rose his head and looked around the room. He was alone, though he thought he had heard her.

Beside him a phonograph rested upon his side table, its needle rocking gently back and forth across the grooved vinyl. From the large brass horn came the singing voice of Billy Murray. He always sang such lovely songs about beautiful women, sweet kisses, and comfortable homely type things. He found his music endearing while his mother had grown quite the distaste for it.

"Always filling your head with nonsense. Staring at the phonograph stuck in a daydream as a young lady might do. James, you are not a young lady, and it is highly inappropriate that you behave as such. Those nonsense daydreams of yours will cause you a lot of dread at the academy. You'll be amongst the best and the brightest young men. You don't want them to tease you, do you?"

This time it was his mother's actual voice that Jamie heard. She was standing at his doorway in her evening dress, looking upon him with such a dissatisfied look. She was a very modest woman and took a great deal of pride in her appearance and outwardly fashion. Her jewelry had been selected with great care, and her hair was neatly pulled up into the latest fashion style.

Jamie straightened and stood, giving his mother a polite bow as she entered his room.

"I would have you wear your finest clothes. We are attending dinner with a great many people and we want to be our best, now don't we?"

"Yes, Mother," Jamie said as he followed her inside his room to his wardrobe, watching her as she lay his clothes out for him on his bed. He adverted his gaze from what she was doing and stared out his bedroom window. For a woman who insisted that he behave as a man, she always tried to baby him in any small way that she could. He was still her son, he supposed; and as such, it was her motherly duty to always care for him regardless of age.

She turned and gripped his chin, turning his head so that he was looking at her. "My darling; you'll escort your mother to this evening's dinner, yes?"

Jamie smiled and gave her a pleasing nod.

"Someday you'll have your own woman to escort to dinner; soon you wont need me."

Jamie felt awkward as she spoke. He tried to picture himself escorting anyone to diner besides his mother, but unfortunately fell short on any images. What he thought of, instead, was being escorted by that handsome gentleman from his daydream, that man he had seen on deck. That would hardly be appropriate, though, even for the lower class...such highly illegal in some places.

The more Jamie thought about it, the more confused he made himself. When he was younger it was easier. He assumed he idealized men because of his lacking in a father figure, but the older he got the more muddled his innocent opinions became. He had managed to get his fingers upon some risque reading material that only solidified his fears that he was, well, that he was funny. They were his dirty secret that he toted around with him everywhere. He could not have a relationship with a man and so he had built one instead with pictures and literature. He feared that he was every mother's worst she ever discover his secret, he feared that it would be the end of her.

"Yes, mother. Someday I shall have a wife, one I am sure you will find one that is quite agreeable."

"Mmm; indeed. Who knows? Maybe there is a nice young lady waiting for you somewhere on this ship. We shall keep our eyes open, now wont we?" She said with a smile as she gently caressed his cheek.

Jamie hopped not...

The grand dining hall for the upper class was a fine display of extravagance. Many people mingled and talked, caught up in light, meaningless conversation.

Jamie ignored them whilst he led his mother through the crowds of aristocracy. He already couldn't wait to retire and go elsewhere on the ship. Being the age of 15 put him in a difficult position. He was neither a child to be fawned over, nor was he a man so no man or woman found him to be of any use as a conversational partner. He often sat beside his mother caught up in his own world for personal amusement. Occasionally others would address him, inquire about his schooling or tell him "what a fine young man he's growing up to be," but beyond that, there was no commonality to be shared with any of these people.

The night could drone on and on with the buzz of quiet voices and cheery laughter. After he ate his dinner, he was free to excuse himself and bid his mother a good night. He kissed her upon her cheek and told her that he would retire for the evening to do some night reading; of course he was lying, but she wouldn't find out so long as he returned quietly to his room while she slumbered. No doubt she would spend the rest of the evening indulging in wine and gossip with the other women aboard the ship. She was such a sound sleeper when she partook in her sleeping medicine after her evening wine. He was sure that he would not be missed.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and meandered through the lobby, walking up the stairs and out onto the deck. He shivered in his dress coat; the outside air was frigged and his light formalwear was not nearly enough to keep the bite of frost at bay, but it would have to do for the time being. He would do anything to avoid the stuffy fine living back inside the halls of the ship. He wondered, having nothing else to do. What sort of fun could be had on such a grand ship, especially at such a late hour in the evening?

He settled for walking around, people gazing as he always did, but it wasn't quite the same. His mother's talk of wives and women had dampened his mood. He would have to figure out some way to find any interest in ladies at all. They were lovely to talk to and very pretty in their own right, but romantic attraction was simply not there. Thankfully he had some time yet to figure it out.

He sighed and slumped down onto a bench, combing his fingers through his perfectly preened hair as he did so. It was a frustrating topic for him to ponder. Sometimes he wished it hadn't been his curse to bear.

While slouching about there, he caught the distinct smell of cheap tobacco. He raised his head and looked around, seeing no one at first until he caught a glimpse of someone moving on the bench next to him.

Jamie craned his neck to see and caught sight of the person he had been fantasizing about all day. That beautiful man was laying on the bench, staring up at the night sky while he smoked.

Jamie gulped. How embarrassing to see him again after such shameless thoughts over him. He was about to make his leave; it was too awkward, but something halted his actions. He sat there seemingly frozen while he tightened his hand into a fist. He pleaded with himself to move, but something small inside of him bid him to speak up to the man sitting there beside him. He worked through his mind on different things to say. How did one strike up a conversation to a person whom he knew nothing about and simply had no reason to talk to? It wasn't like he could blurt out that he fancied him.

"You're going to catch a cold if you sit out here like that without a jacket on."

Jamie nearly jumped out of his skin. His body went ridged as he glanced down at the young man sitting in the bench next to him. He was rolled onto his side, head turned and eyes staring directly at him.

"Don't you have a coat? I'm sure you do," said the stranger as he looked him up and down, insinuating with his gestures that Jamie had wealth enough wear fine wool coats.

"I didn't want to go back to my room," he said simply, keeping his eyes glued in front of him, too afraid to look at the other for any extended amount of time.

From beside him he could hear the other rustle. After a few moments a heavy jacket was strung across his shoulders. Jamie blinked and burrowed into the jacket like a turtle does when frightened. He quickly glanced at the man before adverting his eyes again. Any polite gentleman would have refused the offer, but Jamie could not deny that he was very happy over such a small thing.

"Um, thank you," he said as he snuggled into the coat, being subtle as he inhaled the scent of this handsome stranger.

"Don't mention it. It would be a waste if you caught a cold. This is suppos'd to be a fun journey, so being stuck in your room all day would pro'ably be a bore.

"Probably," Jamie agreed. He looked again at the young man, focusing on his cigaret as it smouldered in the cold air. "Um, could I bum one of those off of you?" he asked as he pointed. "My mother hates it when I smoke, says I'm too young, so it was hard to sneak any on the ship."

"Too young? You look plenty old enough to me. If you were a factory worker, you'd be drinking and smoking all the time, but, uh, well you pro'ably don't have to worry about any of that." The young man fumbled through his pocket and retrieved his tobacco and rolling paper. Jamie would have rolled his own, but the other made his up, folding and licking it before handing it to Jamie.

He lit a match and brought it close to Jamie who enjoyed the excuse to lean towards the stranger. The soft glow of the fire illuminated his hands with a golden light. Jamie could tell the other had done a lot with his hands. His fingers were long and blunt while his fingernails looked as though they had been chewed down; there was dirt and grim all over his fingers and underneath his fingernails, but it didn't bother Jamie. If anything it made him all the more attractive.

When Jamie leaned back, he took a deep drag. "Thank you. I'm Jamie by the way. Jamie Bennett."

"Jack," greeted the other as he extended his hand for Jamie to shake. "So your mother is a strict woman?"

"Yeah."

"Tha's a shame. An what about your father?"

"He died when I was little."

"Oh, I'm sorry." The stranger seemed a bit embarrassed that he had stumbled upon something that might have been too sensitive for a conversational topic.

"It's okay. I don't really remember him, so it's hard to be sad about it," Jamie said honestly.

"Well tha's a good way of looking at things, I guess."

"Say, where are you from? Your accent sounds...German?" Jamie questioned.

"Close, I'm from Belgium."

"Oh wow, you're from so far. And you're going all the way to America?"

Jack chuckled. "Yeah. It, ah, was time for a change."

"So you're immigrating, then?"

Jack nodded as he inhaled the tobacco smoke, holding it in his mouth before he released the milky white clouds into the air. "An why are you going to America? You sound link you'd be from London, yes? I can't imagine you'd be immigrating." Again the other looked Jamie up and down, insinuating that his wealth didn't really give him any reason or cause to immigrate anywhere."

"My mother is brining me to an all boys school in America."

Jack laughed. "Isn tha supposed to be the other way around? Don't Americans come to England to attend the better schools?"

"Yes, but my mother is always saying that Englishmen are too soft, and that American men are more aggressive with success. My dad was an American, so I think she must fancy them more."

Jack nodded as Jamie spoke. "What about you?" Jamie questioned. "Why are you going to America."

The stranger seemed perturbed by Jamie's question. The younger shrank back; it was his turn to feel embarrassed now.

"I didn' have any family left in Belgium, so my sister and I left. I got my hands on some tickets for this trip and we made the long trek over to England. She, ah," Jack paused as he looked down at his shoes. He was silent for a moment or two before he spoke again. "She died on our way through France. Tuberculous; she must have had it for a long time. By the time we got her to the doctor, there was't an'thing we could do."

"I'm sorry."

"I am too," Jack laughed sadly. "An so the world moves on." He seemed like he didn't want to think about it anymore; he directed his attention to Jamie and gave him a genuinely warm smile. "So what about you? What's your story?"

What a funny question. Jamie thought for some time, quite at first, because he was perplexed by it. He had already explained what he was doing and where he was going, so what more of a story could the stranger want? "There's not much of a story."

"Tha's a shame. Your mother must be really strict. I've always wondered why well-to-do men were all so stiff and stuck up."

Jamie laughed. "Yeah, it's probably because they all have mums like mine."

"So are you stiff and stuck up?"

Jamie snorted. "I try not to be. Am I any good at it?"

"I think so." Jack was very charming as he said this. "Do, ah, you have anything to do this evening?"

Jamie perked up in his chair, but remained calm lest he draw undesired attention. "No," he said casually though his heart was pounding.

"I thought as much. I'm sure we could find something to do below deck with the third class members if you'd be interested in sniffing some fun out. I could use a change of pace, an you could probably could use some time away from you stuffy mom."

"Okay!" This time Jamie was a bit too eager as he spoke, but his excitement was hardly containable.