Chapter Eleven: My Bonny Lighter Boy
The operation was over. Andre's brain was relieved of further pressure, but now his poor head was wrapped excessively in bandages that desired to be changed every hour. He lay in his cot, looking even paler than before and I sat in a chair beside him, checking on his bodily movements every few minutes. He did not move much at all, save for a few abrupt spasms where his body jerked with his irregular nerve impulses. Although the sign was rather heartbreaking, it was still a hopeful indication that he was still alive.
I was reading one of the doctor's nature books and had become quite engrossed in it that I did not notice someone enter the tent.
"How is he fairing?" came a voice. It took a while for the sound to penetrate my deaf ears and after a minute or two, I finally looked up from the book to find Bennett sitting on the edge of Andre's cot, looking at me with slight interest in his narrowed blue eyes.
"I suppose better than before, but nothing is certain," I replied solemnly, marking my page in the book and setting it closed on my lap. "Where is Roland and Dobbin?"
"Stationed on the ship watch. They'll be gone half the night," answered Bennett, shifting in his seat and clasping his hands together in thought. "Griffith's back on land, and he's out looking for Consuela again." He laughed feebly, but his attempt to humor was not humoring me very well. I only managed to smile lamely in return and he took the forced grin as a failure.
"Eh, I'm not surprised," I shrugged. "The lecherous fool… seducing Roland's sister…" I grumbled, getting irritated with the matter over Griffith.
"I thought she was drunk," questioned Bennett, his curiosity turning into suspicion.
"No," I replied. "During her fifteenth birthday, he beat up her lover and then stole her away, fondling her while she was writhing in his lusty arms." I was suddenly pricked by reality and began to feel heat stain my cheeks. Wisely, I decided to shut up for the rest of the time Bennett was in the tent.
Carefully, I glanced over at him in all my humiliation. The poor lad was speechless. "Disregard everything I said, Bennie. I dunno what came over me." And I only condemned myself further by looking nervously at the floor.
"I think…" He leaned in closer so that his face was at an angle looking up at me and I could not elude his puzzled expression any longer. "… that you have some explaining to do, Jack."
"There ain't nothing to explain, Bennie."
"You wouldn't be so intent on asking me to forget if what you said was true," he replied. "Jack?" He came all the more closer, and I abandoned my seat and stood up to avoid his inquisitions.
"I told you, Bennett. I have—"
"More lies to say?" he intruded, clearly agitated with my refusal to cooperate with him. "Jack, I refuse to collaborate with you if you do not tell me the truth. This is the second time you have revealed a flaw in your supposedly genuine story." He rose from the cot and advanced. "I want the truth, Jack, and as your commanding officer, you must oblige, or I can have you flogged for insubordination."
"You are willing to go to such lengths just to—"
"Comradeship does not exist without trust!" he yelled. "And by your extensive use of deception, I fear that you will never find refuge in anything but your own lies." He pressed his lips together in anger and then swiftly turned about and exited the tent.
With him gone, I waved my arms about the air, mimicking his scolds, completely unaware that he could have very well been listening to my complaints from outside the tent. Apparently, it was not Bennett who found and heard me nagging about his adamantine personality. Unfortunately, the next person to pop into the tent was none other than the gruesome Griffith.
"You are quite a flamboyant one, aren't you, Jack?" he snickered as he straightened his already perfect back.
"How convenient of you to come in, sir," I grunted, turning my back to him.
"Yes, very convenient, for you see, I've become quite intrigued with your new alliance with Bennett. You are mates, correct?" He sat himself in my chair, crossing his legs and leaning back with relaxation that seemed to come from nowhere.
"Why?" I asked. "Afraid to lose some support, Griffith?"
"Mister Griffith," he corrected. "I do not need to remind you of the last time you failed to respect me, now do I?" He pointed to the scar on my face and I left it at that.
"State why you are here so that I may spend the rest of the night in peace, Mister Griffith." He laughed and folded his hands in his lap, eyeing me with ridiculing suspicion.
"Jack, Jack," he sighed falsely. "Dear boy, why do you find it a threat that I am simply questioning you about your friendship with one of my most trusted confidants?"
"I don't," I snapped back, refusing to look at him.
"Oh, but I think you do. Bennett's…" He paused and rubbed his chin as he thought of how to finish his statement. "…He's a bit of a reserved young man, if you would say. He enjoys his time alone and for him to be ever so cooperative with you surprises me. I haven't seen him this talkative since the woman he has been wanting to court since he was fourteen agreed to marry him whenever he returns home." That got my attention and I slowly turned my head in Griffith's direction and found him grinning his trademark grin that made him the bastard everyone abhorred. "I see he didn't tell you that," he smiled, pleased with my shocked face.
"We're not the best of friends if that is what you are asking. Obviously he'd rather speak with you about things than me."
"Of course. Who would mingle with a mere, uneducated cabin boy?" he simpered. "I sure wouldn't."
"You just are," I retorted.
"Now, now, Jack. I meant no offense…" He stood up and approached me, his eyes focusing on my face. "However, I do need to remind you of your place. Bennett is an easily manipulated simpleton; any person whom he trusts can bend him to his will."
"He deserves far better treatment than that, you sick—"
"I knew you'd return defensively," he grinned. "Do me a favor, Jack, and stay out of Bennett's way. You are a bad influence on his superiority. And, mind you, I asked you kindly, and I expect my orders to be executed with accuracy and speed." I thought he was finished with his speech, but I was an idiot to think that Griffith would ever leave a conversation with me unharmed. He seized my shirt collar next and brought my face extremely close to his, almost as if he wanted to kiss me. "Convince Bennett to turn against me and I'll have you flogged, Jack." I tried to back my face away from his, but ultimately remained close enough to feel his breath on my skin.
"Why? Afraid you'll become powerless without your lackey?" I challenged with a choke. His eyes flickered, and I knew I would have been beaten until I was a giant bruise if we hadn't been interrupted.
"What goes on here?" Our heads averted to the entrance of the tent and we found Roland standing bewildered, his face twisted in a mix of anger and disgust.
"Nothing," replied Griffith, pushing me back as he released his grip on my shirt. "Just a few negotiations." He marched primly outside, leaving Roland to look at me with a very disappointed face.
"What have you done now?" he moaned.
"Nothing. Bennett, Griffith and I just got in another tiff. That's all," I replied nonchalantly, sinking back into my chair. Roland growled and rubbed his tired face with his hands.
"I asked permission to step on land to see how Andre was fairing and here I find you causing more trouble. Can you ever do something right without me? When I was on land you never had this problem, Jack," he complained.
"I'm sorry, all right? Whenever you're not around then Griffith is, and without you, he knows I'm vulnerable. And Bennett's not making it any easier because I am forced to question if he is friend or foe again! By God, it is so bloody difficult to handle it all!"
"Then stay out of their way! You, especially, are better off by yourself than to be mingling around because you cannot help but be so bloody pugnacious and pick fights with anyone who dares to threaten you! Either you sort out your own messes, or ignore them for the rest of this journey. I can't and I won't help you anymore." Steam was about ready to shoot out of my ears and I stomped my foot on the ground and clenched my fists.
"Fine!" I roared. "If you don't remember, it was you who decided to come with me and now you regret me being here when you brought it on yourself! So much for loyal, helpful, brother, aye?"
"Don't even raise that question, Jack," bellowed Roland.
"Oh, sod off, for God's sake. I'll show you I can do fine without your help. Go. Andre's fine. If he dies, then you'll know. Now just bloody leave."
"If that is how you want it, then you'll get your way. No help from me or Dobbin or anyone else. None." He took his leave at that. Stalking off and with a huff, I crossed my arms over my chest and contorted my face in anger, glaring at everything and anything in my field of vision.
"Damn all men to Davy Jones' Locker," I groused. "Damn them all, by God."
I gathered my sea chest in my arms and followed the other sailors to the small boats headed for the anchored Resolve. The short week spent on land was not at all used in the way I had hoped for, but I was very glad to leave it all behind. I was sick of trying to trade with the natives for my frustration with their language got me angered too quickly, not to mention that Griffith did indeed finally ensnare Consuela and emerged from his tent one morning, a satisfied smirk on his face.
Roland was no better than Bennett and would not even look in my direction whenever I passed by. And whatever he did, Dobbin did the same, and so Dobbin was avoiding me as well. I prayed for Andre to wake up soon so that I could have at least had someone to talk to. Of course, Doctor Cavanaugh proved to be a good person to talk to at any time. He was patient and attentive, but it did me little good. Pride was allied too heavily with men, and perhaps their pride would be my downfall.
If any of us were even thinking about apologizing to one another, it was me. I had to be the weak one and I officially decided in my head to apologize to Bennett first. Roland was too steamed for me to approach and Griffith would never receive an apology from me. Perhaps he would receive a bloody nose, but nothing in the least bit diplomatic.
Bennett was currently ordering the men about, yelling which goods go to which cutter heading for the Resolve. Even with his top hat on, he still had to use his hand as a visor from the sun.
I addressed him from behind.
"Sir?" I said timidly, afraid to infuriate him in any way possible. His head turned around, and at my sight, he turned quickly away.
"Your orders, Jack, are to assist in the packing of these small vessels. Now, if you do not obey, I will just have you sent to the Resolve where you can suffer under the captain's orders," he replied grimly, his back still facing me.
"You hold a grudge pretty long yourself," I mumbled before fulfilling my orders and dumping my sea chest into a cutter and then hopping into the small boat myself. Perhaps I truly needed to get myself away from all these disputes.
The cutter was still quite empty, and so I continued to sit there while some other sailors began to put their belongings into the boat, along with themselves. Unfortunately for me, I was too absorbed in my own mind to hear the repetitive call of, "You there! Lad!" It came rather gruffly, and I tilted my head to the side and found the grubby Lonan addressing me.
"Set this here sea chest in there, would ya, lad?" he asked, revealing his crooked and decayed teeth in a shameful smile. I thought I could smell his rancid breath from where I sat in the cutter.
Glaring at him, I grabbed the sea chest in his muscular, tattooed arms and dumped it rather carelessly on a random space in the boat. He chuckled and waved a chubby, red finger at me. "Impish boy, aren't ya?" he snickered as he stepped into the boat and nearly made it tip over. I managed to grip onto the side of it to keep myself from falling.
"This cutter is full, lads," came Bennett's voice from afar. "Initiate rowing." A few of the sailors in the boat picked up the oars and dipped them into the water. There was a slight push from behind and we were off, back to the Resolve.
"How's the other cabin boy, doin', laddie?" he asked unexpectedly, looking down at me with his beady dark eyes. I could feel my left eye twitching a bit, but being a mere ship's boy, I was forced to answer.
"He's still not awake," I said, trying not to seem interested in his question or unconcerned with my friend's condition.
"Good mate o' yiz?" he questioned further, and I flared my nose, wanting to steal an oar from one of the rowers and whack the bastard in the face with it. There was something about him that just made me cringe. But perhaps it wasn't him I should have been scared of because there were far worse enemies on the ship.
"Yes," I nodded.
"How old are ya? Ten?"
"Thirteen," I corrected. "Thirteen."
"Don't seem like it. Yer too stunted and dainty to be thirteen." Dainty. He had called me dainty a word used to describe women. I began to get very worried with him around me. I was growing sick with fear at the thought that he would know I was a woman.
"Gettin' stronger everyday," I managed to say, and Lonan gave me the same eerie look Griffith often sent in my direction. Though his eyes were dark, they suddenly glimmered with that odd white flame, leaving me to look away, clearly afraid for my own life. And sadly, with such bad relations with my closest mates, I had no one to talk to about the matter.
The ship was off again, with its white sails freed and full of air streaming from the North. The sky was less blue and clouds were gathering, but the sun still succeeded in shedding some light around, which created a more relaxed environment on the ship. Apparently, it was relaxation I could not grasp.
With the constant flapping of the sails around me, I sat on the main topsail yard, my legs swinging and my arm gripping a line for support. I could see the blue main stretch for miles and miles around us, with nothing but blue sky as a companion. I was up there for two reasons, one being that I was still troubled by my last encounter with Lonan, and two, because Andre was still unconscious and I wanted to worry for his sake alone.
From atop that mast, I was separated from the nautical world for just a moment, and I could enter my girlish fantasies without feeling self-conscious of what others would think. Up there, I was safe to worry, safe to brood, safe to be caught mumbling to myself, for from the vision of the men on deck, I looked simply as a lad idling about and avoiding some unnecessary work.
Unlike girls, men did not press themselves into matters not theirs, excluding Griffith. They knew when it was proper to intrude and when it was not, for they were too protective of their pride to accept every challenge given them, again with Griffith as the exception. The possibility of puncturing that pride by engaging in heated debate was all too important to them.
The other thing about men I discovered, based on my observations on the ship, was that they talked much less than women. Girls took every opportunity to ridicule and mock, but with men, it was different. I assumed that they spent more time in their thoughts than in the world of verbal exchange. I was the exception there. Like most girls, I gossiped, I said nasty things behind peoples' backs and I whined very often. Every thought I had was usually spoken aloud, but I wasn't so stupid as to happily yell my girlish dreams. However, it was a man's reluctance to speak aloud that made it difficult to understand their feelings.
But the one thing about men I hated the most was their authority. From authority came pride, and from pride came arrogance, and from arrogance came spits of anger and violence. No matter who the man was, what rank he was at, or his age, he had some control over something or someone, whether it was supreme reign over a country or a mere woman.
But perhaps it was not their superiority that I hated. Perhaps how they used their power was what angered me in their company. The perfect example would be Griffith. The lad was fit and handsome, which gave him command over us frail female specimens. He was also rich, which gave him supremacy over businesses and property. His power over women allowed him to abuse it by bedding any woman whom he wished, and his influence over money allowed him to buy whatever his heart desired and to rob men below him of justified profit. Misuse of authority was what bothered me. Men might have been handsome, enchanting and kind, but they were most unfair. And, not to mention, they held grudges too long.
My whole evaluation of men caused me to remember my Adam. His ring was still on a chain clasped around my neck and grasping it, I wondered about him. The ring was a heavy gold ring, with a ruby placed directly in the middle, gleaming with a faint crimson glow. It had a few engravings which I ran my fingers over, and as I did, I believed a letter was long overdue to my lovely lieutenant.
I was lucky that Adam's whereabouts came to mind during my leisure time. I was eager to walk below deck, grab some parchment, ink and a quill from my sea chest and seat myself on a bench in the gunnery, to finally write my letter.
As I set the items on the table, I had the hesitancy to actually put them to use. I was afraid that if I sent him a letter, he would reply in return and not consider that I was a lad, and would include several admiring words in his response. If any of the men got hold of it, I would be branded a fairy forever, and I did not want that on my already stained hands.
Plus, there was the possibility that he would tell my parents that I was on the Resolve and they could very well go out to sea and find Roland and me and take us home. I did not want that either. Oh, Adam, I thought.How am I supposed to keep in touch with you if writing a letter would endanger both myself and Roland? I tapped my foot on the floor as I pondered over the situation and my cloud of thought was impeccably interrupted by my supervisor, Doctor Cavanaugh. "Good news, Jack," he said. I looked up from my paper, neither happy nor frustrated.
"Yes, sir?" I answered, my foot still tapping.
"Your friend is awake and talking, might I add. He's recovered very well." Suddenly ignited with new found joy, I leapt from my seat and my first thought was to lunge forward and hug good old Cavanaugh for the news, but I recognized the fairy-ness of such an action and controlled myself.
"That's brilliant!" I cried. "Where is he?"
He led me to his office where Roland and the other midshipmen were. Why they were there, I did not know. Griffith seemed bored out of his mind and gnawed on his fingernail while Bennett went to exchange a few greetings with Andre on his recovery. I gave Andy a few pats on the shoulder and chatted with him a bit, but it never went unnoticed to me that Roland was glaring at my back and Bennett was sending me a silent attack from the front, and when they finished openly displaying their displeasure of me being in their company, all four middies left.
Andre took one look at me and knew I had caused trouble again. I cared not. I shook his hand briefly and waved goodbye to Cavanaugh before returning to my letter to Adam. That simple piece of paper was the only hope I had of releasing my emotions in a positive manner.
As I sat back down in my little booth, staring at the blank slips, I began to sort out what I would write in my head. I grew aggravated with my simple and upfront girlishness and gave a scowl as I scratched my head in frustration. I knew I wanted to tell Adam that I missed him and that I loved him and that I wished he was here with me, but those were all so frank. It did not express my clear yearning or feelings for him in as many words as possible to show how great my love for him was. It was so massive that I could not describe it in just one word, but apparently, monosyllabic phrases were all I could think of.
"Oh, Jack, that is positively awful," I growled, crumpling up the paper I had spoiled with my useless black writing. I was about to stain the next piece of parchment with the fine tip of the quill when I heard a deep, musical screech.
It was Bennett. He stood not far off with a few of the other sailors and beneath his chin was the round base of a violin and in his right hand was the bow delicately gliding over the strings in harmony. I stopped thinking of my letter and watched him as he played, his eyes closed in concentration and his lips taut as he was absorbed by the beautiful music he was playing. I did not know what song he was playing, but the sailors seemed to know it. A few of them began to tap their feet and hum a long. Some began to sing, and I had to abandon my spot to come close enough to hear what they were singing.
'Twas in her father's garden,
Beneath the willow tree,
He took her up all in his arms,
And kiss'd her tenderly
Down on the ground they both sat down,
And talk'd of love and joy;
Let him say what he will,
he's her love still,
He's her bonny lighter boy.
Bennett's melody came to an end, and as he lifted his chin to remove the violin, he opened his eyes and immediately spotted me standing by myself listening to the sailors chat and talk. I didn't see him though. I was heartbroken by the song for Adam was my own 'bonny lighter boy.' And though I had gone away and left him to go where he will, 'he was my love still. He was my bonny lighter boy.'