IX. Moments of Truth
"Cleaning heads" was likely one of the least desirable jobs on the vessel. (However, it was certainly better than the other options of being tied to a mast, flogged, or even keelhauled.) This end of the bow would contain urine and feces. Based on the stench, as we got over there, it had definitely been a while since the last cleaning.
"Oh, s—!"
"Deplorable!" Percy commented. "Such utter filth! Could these men not dispose their waste overboard?!" I said nothing, being rather irritated at the events, and wanting to get this over with. "Smith," I merely looked at him while cleaning my end. "I suppose if we're going to be down here, a while, we might as well make conversation—"
"Shut your bloody hole, and clean, you bugger!" I almost wished I hadn't said that, as I knew it was rude; especially since it was the first time Percy actually attempted to make himself friendly. Percy himself seemed a bit taken aback by my response. I rephrased my answer into something more polite. "What I meant was, we'll finish faster if we keep silent." That was the end of that. We cleaned away until all the filth was gone.
The Quartermaster came to examine our progress. "All right, men. You might as well settle in for the night." I noticed how worn out he looked, as if he had a great deal on his mind.
I followed closely behind him. "I do apologize for that occurrence. I can assure you, it won't happen again," I promised.
"It better not," he said. "Next time I'll flog you."
"I'm not perfect, Bart. Not everyone can be you." I wish I hadn't said that.
He seemed annoyed I'd think such a thing. "You don't know everything about me, John."
"Care for a drink?" I offered.
"Certainly. Care to light this for me?" We had our pipes as we sat down to drink. "Haven't had that in quite some time," he remarked after a few puffs. "Tis certainly not something I'm capable of having at home with the Missus." This was the first time he's ever mentioned having a wife. Most men I've grown up with, would almost always mention their wives, or "she who must be obeyed." Even Newport would complain about Mrs. Newport having him mind his manners, for his daughters' sake, at home.
"You're married? You never mentioned that to me." I asked.
"The previous year." He didn't seem enthused. "I don't mention it often. She comes from a very respectable family. 'Twas an amicable arrangement between our fathers, both working together as attorneys, whom anticipated me also becoming a partner." He grew silent as he puffed some more. "I was brought up to believe studying towards a promising career, marrying and starting a family is merely what every gentleman is expected to accomplish. But afterwards, what else is there?" This is the first time Bart had confessed this much to me. "Here, I don't have to give a d— about anything but the height of the waves. As it is, I'm hardly ever home, and even as a barrister, I still wouldn't spend much time there. At least out here, 'tis more peaceful."
After some moments, I told him. "At least you have someone to go home to." I could imagine how angry my parents would be knowing what I was up to these days. This was a time I actually would've wanted my father to yell at me, to assure me he's there... .
He stopped puffing for your moment to think, "I suppose you're right. A part of me has an obligation...but another part of me never wants these journeys to end." I always imagined Bart to be a stronger character; and while in some cases he was, in others he was just a carefree young man. "I never confided as much to anyone before."
"Why?" I wondered why he'd confide in me at all, with Archer and Kendall in his life.
"Not even Gabe would understand why anyone of his standing would rather be a common man."
"Certainly. It must be quite a bore being amongst high society, their festivities and connections." I playfully mocked, not understanding why one would think so fleetingly on such a life.
His answer was surprisingly serious. "'Tis not all as wonderful as you think. Believe it or not, 'tis not amusing being polite to people who wouldn't care for you, if 'twere not for your wealth or nobility."
Apparently there were tradeoffs that I hadn't considered. Instead of dwelling on it, I decided to ask something that now puzzled me. "But how did you get here?"
"In time, I grew curious about what lay outside the confines of the courtroom... . My cousin, Edward-Maria Wingfield, was a respected military man with certain connections. I convinced him to recruit me for Earl Robert Devereaux and Sir Walter Raleigh's fleet. Gabe tried to talk me out of leaving law, but joined me after my rank increased to Boatswain. I also met Kenny through Wingfield, as he was also in the military. Wingfield considered accepting a position as Quartermaster for Newport, an old friend of his." When he paused, I realized what happened. "Wingfield unfortunately had to remain stationed in Ireland. There was concern of me overseeing my peers. while initially difficult, I found I earned their respect more by reasoning and being relatable. He convinced them I'd only be here temporarily. But by early summer, Newport asked me to stay, and Wingfield instead assisted Devereaux and Raleigh in capturing Cadiz, amongst other affairs. I'm not certain most of the crew were ever aware of this."
"Wingfield" seemed familiar. It was then I remembered my short time serving as a mercenary, that a rather stodgy, redheaded man called me a "poor excuse for a soldier," since I couldn't handle a gun. But now...
"I believe we've met before."
"Is that so? He's not agreeable with those outside of his social standing—no one on that side of the family is."
"At least I can be honest with you, and admit I would not have cared for him in this role."
We chuckled and puffed, before he seemingly spoke aloud. "'Twould be a couple more weeks 'fore we return to London... ."
It occurred to me, that eventually, we'd return to England. Bart would resume his apparently humdrum life, and I... ? I didn't want to leave this ship. If I could, I'd continue sailing for the rest of my life.
We chatted a bit more, until I finally decided to go below deck to get some sleep. I was surprised to find Percy wasn't asleep.
"Still awake? I thought you'd be asleep by now."
"No, I thought I'd sleep better on this side of the ship. Where were you?"
"I went to—I needed some air." I decided my chat wasn't his business. I normally slept on a straw mat next to Ben's and Lon's, while Percy's was off to himself; but tonight he began moving it toward mine.
"You don't mind if I sleep here, do you?"
"You can sleep wherever you like." I was too tired to care.
"You should get some sleep, Percy. We'll have a busy day tomorrow if the tide's on our side." I folded my arms behind my head and laid down. I noticed Percy kept looking at me as if he wanted to say something. I sat up. "What is it?"
"Oh, nothing—just lost in thought." I laid back down, closing my eyes. After a few moments, he said, "Smith?"
"Yes?"
"I don't quite know how to say this, but perhaps I was slightly ungrateful about—"
"Don't worry about it."
"Smith—or should I say 'John?'"
"Call me whatever you will, just go to sleep." I was getting annoyed at this point.
"I'm not quite tired yet," he confessed. "Anyhow, I thought we could chat for a bit, since you're the only one down here who speaks or pays any mind to me at all."
"Well, if you wouldn't act as if your sword was so far up your—"
"I'm well aware of the impression others have of me, John. But I can assure you, contrary to what many may believe, I'm not an elitist snob. As a nobleman, I merely have difficulties relating to the rather simplistic matters of commoners."
"I see," I mused, not believing a word.
He pulled out a wineskin from his bag, perhaps half full.
Now conceding, I sat up. "Where did that come from?"
"Shhh." He put his index finger on his lips. "I stole this from a Spanish soldier."
"I'm not too fond of wine. I tried some as I served with the French Army, but 'twas rather putrid."
"Bah! Even an ass knows the Spanish wines are best. I would know—my family has tried the best of both, and we all prefer the Spanish. In fact, this one is quite similar to what I would have at home."
"I suppose I could take your word for it." I reached for it.
"Not so fast." He pulled it away and gulped some down. "Me first."
I took it from him. "'Tis rather sweet." I agreed." I drank some more before Percy grabbed it from me.
"Not a word to the others," he warned. "I didn't intend to share—especially not with the crew. Personally, I don't recall ever having to share anything in my life."
"You're most fortunate. I don't recall not having to share anything in my life."
"Ah the life of the privileged." Percy grinned, then suddenly frowned before speaking again. "Actually, 'tis not quite so grand—being the last of eleven; my eldest brother, Henry being the Earl, skilled at everything I'm not; reminding me of my failures... ."
I was getting the sense of how lonesome, and miserable he truly was. Come to think of it, he was usually by himself, putting down others. Most of the men ignored him, but even the limited time I humored him was at least some positive reinforcement.
"For what 'tis worth, I'm quite envious of you, Smith. You have more talent than I do and are favored by all."
"There's nothing worth envying. Even as the eldest, I've yet to succeed at anything. I dropped out of school a year ago, and quit my apprenticeship as a merchant after my father passed away. At least you finished your education and studied at University."
"That was my brother Henry's idea for me to become 'useful,' as he supports me financially. I don't particularly care about my education, as I've always wanted to serve as a soldier and explore new worlds."
"Surely your brother has several fleets—"
"And my brother would find it an embarrassment to have me on any of them. Setting out here was my own idea, as he claims I 'won't be healthy enough to be considered a decent soldier.'"
"Your brother appears to be a bigger arse than you are."
"I'll consider that a compliment."
I reached into my own bag. "Charqui?" I offered, breaking off a piece.
"What—"
"Try it—you'll like it," after I explained what it was.
He chewed his piece, making the most unusual expression, before deciding he liked it, as we resumed sharing the wineskin and chewing Charqui.