Chapter 21: Oasis
Before the sun rose I was up again, and I scampered out of my tent with my sea bag slung over my shoulder. My reasoning to leave the encampment early, before any man found me, was to get to my private oasis and have my well-needed bath out of the way before the men found it, for I knew a party of them was bound to search for a closer source of water in the cooler morning heat.
Though, I wasn't much of a fool as I left the camp. I had become well aware of the prints I was leaving in the desert sand, and to counter the automatic trail I was creating, I tied my long overcoat at my waist and had it drag behind me, smoothing out my indentations with the gentle sweeping movement of my coat tail.
The sky was a pale blue as I traveled to my watering hole, its smooth surface once again clean of any cloud. However, the absence of the white puffs would only allow the sun's rays to hit my fragile skin in a more direct and blazing light. Hopefully I would safely be in the cool shadows of my little oasis before the sun dared to wake and rise, secluded in the lush greenery and granted the privacy I was long too bereft of.
I wasted no time as soon as I surrounded myself with the verdure of the convenient spring. I set immediately to work and discarded all of my clothes and plunged into the cool water. I took in a mouthful of the sweet, refreshing morning air that was faintly dampened by the dew gathered on the contiguous vegetation. Expelling a deep sigh of untroubled gratification, I tossed my head back and dipped below the surface of the water.
To clean my foul and putrid self, I had borrowed, a bar of soap from Roland's sea chest long before we set foot on land. The boy rarely bathed at sea anyway, so I did not steal his soap. I had every intention of bringing it back. Even at home, Mum or his maid would beg him to bathe, and he'd always hold onto his dirt for as long as possible. The boy would not miss his soap. And so, with Roland's pungent-smelling cleansing device, I commenced to scrub myself until my skin was red and raw.
After I was washed and scoured to a spotless clean, I found it necessary to bathe my clothes as well. For all the long months they spent with me on the perilous sea, they had become just as sordid as I was. I decided it was best if I stayed in the water while washing my garments and be prepared for the worst. And the worst that could happen would be one of the officers or sailors of the Resolve finding me. At least in the water, nothing they wanted to see would be revealed.
Through much rubbing, rinsing, wringing, soaking and grumbling, I had finally sponged and bathed all pieces of my apparel, from trousers, to stockings, to shirts and neckerchief. I set them all out to dry on a bed of leaves I had prepared in the sun to keep any sand from attaching to any of them.
I grabbed one of my pair of trousers and slipped them on. They were pantaloons, and so fell only below my knees, and I also thought it wise if I just didn't wear the stiff cloth that squashed my chest. There was no need for me to hide anything…yet, so I got rid of the cloth and set it amongst my other clothes and buttoned on the smaller vest I had. That left me with bare arms and bare legs from the knee down, and a much easier time breathing.
"At least I'll remain cool," I said aloud, sitting on the sand bank beside the pure water and splashing the top with my feet. "Now, what to do while my clothes are drying?" I stayed my feet from kicking any further and got up, letting my eyes wander in the search of anything interesting to amuse me.
"J-Jack?" said a voice. I jumped and spun around, highly unprepared for the interruption, and I did what any other unprepared person, or perhaps, unprepared woman, would have done. I screamed, tripped over my feet in the stupid attempt to run away from my intruder and toppled into the water, sending a stream of it right over my drying clothes, thus soaking them again.
Dammit.
As soon as my feet were on dry land though, I finally caught the astonished face of my intruder and exchanged looks with him.
"Bennett?" I shrieked, widening my poor eyeballs. "Great God! Is anyone else with you?" I demanded, fearing for my safety at the current moment.
"N-No. I… I came alone," he reassured. Releasing a breath, I relaxed my stiff shoulders and unknowingly placed my hands on my hips, which had become a rather frequent habit of mine. Walking forward from the thicker foliage adjacent to the tame water, I confronted my handsome trespasser, happy that we were alone again but still minutely aggravated by his rude and rash behavior from the night before.
"So, Mister Bennett," I said, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at his strangely pleasing awkwardness. "What brings you by?" I slowly took another step forward and was now standing in front of him, never more ready to make him feel embarrassment and discomfiture to its limits.
He took one look at me and swiftly averted his eyes elsewhere, contently scanning the ground or seeming to take interest in his hands or shirt. "I… I…"
"…you?"
"I… well… the captain ordered a search party for water and put me in charge of it. And, well, a while back I ordered for us to go in separate directions to cover more territory and—"
"Mister Bennett," I interrupted, placing a hand on his tense shoulder. "I think I understand." He tried another glance at me and managed to uneasily keep his eyes on mine, his face lightly puckered in a grimace.
"Y-You weren't kidding when you said you were a… a girl," he said, sending it out almost as a breath he had long held onto.
"Nope. I may lie, Bennie, but I don't lie 'bout things like that." I added a chuckle afterwards, hoping he'd loosen up a bit, but he refused to look at me again and turned around, shaking my hand off of his shoulder. He crossed his arms as he spoke to me, leaving me to listen to his back.
"I…" I heard him swallow. "I apologize for… for my abrupt and rather disapproving reaction to your confession last night." Following the admission of guilt, he exhaled a larger breath than before and its intense signal of relief had me hear it as another way of saying, "There. I've said it."
A smile thinly graced my lips as I laughed inside at his flustered self. I only added to the touchy conversation by remaining silent, waiting for him to turn his head around and ask me why I wasn't responding. At last, he fulfilled my expectations, and as soon as we locked glances, he whisked his head promptly about and commenced scratching his short brown hair in all the more growing humiliation. By that action, I believed that he would not be saying anything anytime soon, and so it was up to me to put things right.
"Bennie," I began, reaching for his shoulder. "Why won't you look at me?" As soon as I touched him again, he flinched and spun around, his face not uncomfortable but now vexed.
"B-Because I can't!" he yelled.
"And why not?" I challenged. What was possibly wrong with me that he couldn't bear to look at me? "Why not, Bennie?"
"Because you're not decent!" he exclaimed. Oh, I thought. So that is what this is about.
"Oh, but it's not like you're lookin' at anythin', Bennie. Yes, my arms are bare and you can see my lower legs, but it's not like yer gazin' at me stark naked!" I almost wanted to laugh at his uneasiness around me. "It's all right with me, Bennie," I assured him. "Besides, it beats being stuck sweating to death in a full array of clothing."
"But you're a woman!" he cried. "I'm not supposed to see any of that until… until I'm married!"
"Well, aren't you a lucky one then, aye?" I teased with a wink, but he only muttered something and sat on the sandy ground in a spot where the sun beat down freely. "Oh, c'mon, Bennie. I assure you, it is fine with me." For indeed, it was fine with me.
I rested my bum beside him, sitting with my knees arched up and my back leaning on the trunk of a palm tree. He didn't say anything, but I wasn't troubled too much. After all, the poor lad had said and seen much already and almost always to his discomfort.
But as the heat continued to rise and the sun was severely baking my skin into a more swarthy hue, my line of patience was broken, and I refused to tolerate Mister Gareth Bennett's tight-lipped mouth any longer. I shifted my gaze in his direction, glared at his head and then leaned forward, shooting angry breaths through my nose. "All right, Bennie," I started. "Enough of your silence." Before he could stop me, I grabbed his chin and forced him to look at me. "Speak," I commanded.
He looked at me, dumbfounded, with wide, stunned blue eyes that sparkled in the sunlight. His jaw had dropped, but not a word came out of his mouth. I only succeeded in maintaining his muteness. Dammit!
But then it occurred to me that his face was red, and I immediately took it that it was burned from the unsympathetic rays of the sun. Without even asking for his permission, I cupped my hands in the water and flung the liquid at his face.
"Jack!" he sputtered, spitting out any that may have entered his mouth and wiping the wetness from his eyes. The redness still hadn't dispersed.
"Your face is still red," I observed, ready to pour more water on him but he stopped me with a few desperate shouts.
"No! … I mean, I'm fine, Jack. It's not sunburn. I'm… I'm just a bit… embarrassed."
"Oh," I said dumbly, smiling sheepishly at him. "Sorry." But to my greatest joy and surprise, he forced a smile as well, and he looked quite handsome with his wet, dripping head. And gaining confidence at his more relaxed person, I asked, as innocently as possible, "Will you talk to me now?" Perhaps a little charm wouldn't hurt, although I still doubted that I was even at all the least bit charming.
He faced me, unsure of what to say or do, and so I added, "I'm still the same Jack, Bennie. Even if I am a girl." His smile gradually returned and after letting out one last heavy sigh, he finally spoke to me.
"You never cease to amaze me, Jack," he said, quietly praising me. "Excuse me if I do not respond to your questions as quickly as you'd like. I'm still recovering from shock. You must be the only person in my life who has baffled me, argued with me, and yet rendered me speechless in everything we have done." I knew he was complimenting me now and I beamed at his well-delivered encomium of me. I even found myself blushing.Ah, to be a girl again. "What moved you to disguise yourself and enlist in the Navy?" he asked.
"Well," I began, feeling my cheeks cool down. "It's a long story, love. For starters, my name ain't Jack Barlow, as you've probably guessed. Me birth name is Astrid. Astrid Jacqueline Turner Sparrow."
"Turner?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows at the name. "Are you related to Roland?"
"Not by blood, but by law," I answered. "I'm his adopted sister. You may remember my name from some of the stories he's told."
"Astrid," I heard him mumble, and then suddenly, his eyes lit up and he scooted closer to me, eager to get his discovery out. "You're the girl he spoke of who got drunk at her birthday celebration and spooned with Griffith!" he cried, astounded but smiling nonetheless at the fact.
"I'm not particularly proud of that," I muttered, ashamed of the incident. "I don't remember spooning with Griffith… honestly. But I am sure he does." Mentioning Griffith reminded me that he had some unknown plan up his sleeve and some sort of alliance with Lonan, but I decided not to worry about it. Bennett was the young man with me now, and to him I would give all of my attention.
"No wonder he thought you looked familiar," said Bennett, smiling at the sky. "Everything is making sense now." He paused and directed his vision to me again, his eyes losing their joy and falling to a more serious stare. "Then… why did you join the Navy? You'll get hanged, Jack, if—"
"Yes, I know. That is why I am trusting you, Dobbin and Roland to keep my secret. And to answer your other question, I came to sea to search for my blood father."
"Any connection with the Sparrow in your name?" he questioned. I nodded. "Who is your father? What profession is he? Perhaps I've met him. I've been all over the world." I opened my mouth ready to scream, 'He's a good ol' swashbuckling pirate!' But I knew Bennett would not approve, and I didn't want to disappoint him again. I would tell him eventually who my father really was, but at that moment it was not opportune.
"He's… he's a merchant… from London. Yes, a merchant. But one time he left and never came back, but people still say he's alive."
"Well… I'm… I'm sorry," he said sympathetically, reaching out to pat my shoulder. I saw him hesitate, but he went along anyway and I was quite pleased. "That's why you asked to see London when we docked."
"Y-Yes," I stuttered, deciding to agree with his assumption, even though I really just wanted to go to London to see what it was like up there. "But don't feel bad for me, Bennie. I'll find him someday. He can't hide from me forever."
"You're not an orphan then," he said, nodding to himself as he pieced everything together. "You deceived Newton as well."
"Aye. Very. I grew up with Roland, so I wore those fine puffy dresses and learned to sing and dance and sew. And I got caught in many messes with suitors and admirers—men, in general. But I have none of that now. I left it all behind for the sea. I was courting a fine lieutenant, but I realized he didn't deserve a rogue like me. Fine men deserve to be with fine ladies. He is truly a fine man, but I am by far no fine lady."
I discovered that I must have been the worst partner any young man could have. And Adam was the unlucky first love. I hurt him and cheated on him (though I never intended to). And even more so, after that time with Bennett in the sails, I threw away the letter I wrote to Adam. I did love him still, but strangely, I cared deeply about Bennett also. And even more troubling, was that I had a heart for the sea, but apparently a few men had their hearts for me.
"You… You are quite a master of disguise then, Jack… I mean, Astrid. It is Astrid, isn't it?" He made me laugh all the more, bubbling out laughs of pure joy that I had not felt in some while.
"Eh, you can call me by whatever you're used to. Jack suits me fine." He smiled timidly, only to turn his head away from me, and he cast his feet in the water and pointed at the ripples he made.
"You found this oasis?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," I answered proudly, plunging my feet in as well and kicking some water at him, but then I remembered the last time I was in a secluded area with a man. The all too haunting, and ever so slightly pleasant memory with Stephen in the lagoon came up to mind.
"The last time I was with a man in a small, isolated body of water, I danced with him… but that ultimately ended in disaster and I broke another man's heart. My fifteenth year has got to have been the most eventful. Full of the good and bad," I remarked.
"You lied about your age as well," he said, not seeming too pleased.
"Would a fitting ship's boy honestly be fifteen years old, Bennett? I think not," I retorted.
"How long ago was that?" he asked, approaching me suddenly, his arms outstretched before him. I looked at his open and welcoming hands uncertainly, my memory at the lagoon proving too strong. What if someone saw us?
"Almost two years ago," I said. "In Port Royal." He must have noticed how my hands still hung at my sides and were not in his own, so he came forward and gently took my hands in his, causing me to titter nervously. Now, I was the uneasy one. "Bennett, what are you doing?" I asked, as he led me deeper into the water.
"I…want to dance with you," he said earnestly, his voice making only one pause instead of being a mess of stutters.
"Why on earth would you want to do that?" I asked, feeling as if it was de ja vous all over again with Stephen. But Bennett was far from being like Stephen. Nor was he like Adam in every way. He didn't worry as much.
"To be honest," he started, "I've wanted to be alone with you for quite some while, Jack. I've liked you longer than you think. And I was in denial with myself for the most part, until that time I spent with you in the sails."
"Well…" I replied, choking on my own words because of his very bold confession. "You are the single man who has ever proclaimed his feelings openly to me in words. I am quite impressed. But why dance?"
"You danced with Marie," he said rather bitterly, and I could not control my laughter. "When you agreed to dance with her I grew angry and jealous not because you were dancing with her, but that she was dancing withyou." I covered my mouth with my hand as I quieted my snickers.
"You told not a soul about this?"
"Not one," he affirmed, smiling.
I denied his wishes no longer and got into a dancing position with him in the water. He placed his hand on the small of my back and I rested my right hand on his shoulder while our free hands met, held together at shoulder level. In unison, we swayed about in the water, and we must have been a strange sight to any other eye, for I was dressed in my vest and trousers and he in his shirt and britches. If anyone but Roland and Dobbin saw us, we would surely be condemned of buggery and hanged, but thankfully, we were alone and there was no evil Alexandra Westley to frame me.
We exchanged pleased and genuinely happy glances with each other often as we danced and there was the occasional bit of conversation. Usually more about my life as a girl. But in the times when words were dead and silence endured, I'd catch him looking at my mouth sometimes and I, sadly, was ashamed of doing the same thing to him. Of course, it was involuntary for me, as usually was anything I did with a man that I admired. I even began to develop that drowsy feeling about me again, being so close to him as we skidded through the water, but the memory at the lagoon continued to blink in my mind and I knew when enough was enough.
Tapping his shoulder gently, I said, "We really should stop, Bennie." And we gradually came to a halt in the shallow end of the lagoon. However, Bennett still had not removed his hand from my back, nor did he part his hand from mine. Dear boy, you grow too attached to everything you lay your hands on.
"Do you…" he began, and for a few seconds he pondered in silence whether he should continue or not. I waited patiently for him to speak again, my feelings mixed again. I was glad that he finally knew who I was, and even more so that he liked me, for I admired him in return. But I was worried for some reason that I had not laid my finger on yet.
"Do you remember that song I sang in Portsmouth?" he asked at last, looking down at me with shimmering eyes.
"The Scottish tune you played on Ian's pianoforte?" I replied, although as soon as I said it, I giggled nervously, having felt Bennett's hand on my back push me closer to him.
"Yes, that one," he said, taking my hand in his free one and bringing the back of it close to his lips, but he didn't kiss it, although I expected him to. It appeared as if he was toying more with my affections, and as much as I wanted him to just come out with what he wanted to say and to do whatever he wanted to do, I admitted to enjoying his teases.
" 'My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose,' correct?"
"Aye…" He nodded with a smile and looked away from my face to kiss the back of my hand, thus instigating more embarrassed chuckles from me.
"To be honest," he stated, locking stares with me again while still clinging to my hand, "the only reason I agreed to sing it was because I found it an inhibited way in which I could… well… attempt to woo you, which you must find queer since I still saw you as a man." My snickers had grown into fully-fledged laughs of pure delight and through my laughter, I managed to wheeze out, "You sang that song for me?" And he nodded with just a bit of pride.
"Well… you waited an awful long time before you informed me of your true affections," I returned, eyeing him with mock despair.
"As did you in telling me you were a damned girl," he muttered with a short laugh. Frowning, I tapped the side of his smooth face, indicating my desire to slap him for rebutting like that but loving him too much to do so.
"I had my reasons…" I paused and added, "as did you." We each released a cheap laugh at that, and it eventually died into dreaded silence; silence which Bennett took into consideration as the hand he had on my back slide south to my waist and the other holding my hand let go to rest on my bare arm.
His shift in movement thus called for me to move as well, finding a more comforting position with one arm half-hugging him and the other sitting on his shoulder. And it should not be an unknown fact that placing my limbs in such positions only brought me closer to him. Some rays of the sun had leaked in through the foliage of the oasis and hit our faces, making us even warmer than we were previously and that drowsy feeling began to envelope me again. Only this time, I almost did not want it to go away.
Bennett lowered his head as my eyes began to close, and soon I had blocked all vision, relying solely on the sense of touch to understand what was occurring, and all I felt at that moment was the warmth of the sun on my face; a warmth that was suddenly disrupted with Bennett's feverish lips as his mouth met mine in a timid recognition. And when the heat from him had vanished, I opened my eyes to meet his own, taking note of that enchanting white flicker in his eyes as he kissed me again.
Though, he didn't have to tilt his head as much as he did before, I met him halfway, holding onto him more tightly as his kiss left me entirely breathless and he didn't hesitate to do it again. He lifted me up so that he would not be required to bend his neck in order to reach my mouth and I was stupidly absorbed in it all to have leaned all the harder on him. And so without a doubt we toppled over into the water, and got ourselves soaked from head to toe.
The water did indeed give us that signal that we were getting quite at it and needed to consider a few things before we continued, and Bennett looked at me, water dripping from his head and smiling in spite of it. "I guess I should get my clothes washed then, eh?" he said, and I tittered at his sorry, but adorable attempt to banish the awkwardness between us.
"Aye, Bennie," I replied, getting up in the water and lending him a hand. And with a mischievous smirk I added, "I'd be happy to wash them for you."
He nodded with no suspicion or reluctance whatsoever and his fingers grabbed the ends of his shirt and were about to pull it over his head when he realized what he was about to do.
Stopping himself, he sent me a look, and I responded with my pert and not-so innocent grin.
When he did not speak in return, I placed my hands on my hips and raised my wet eyebrows at him. "Washed or not, Benito?" I demanded, seemingly impatient, but in truth, I just wanted to toy with him some more. He looked at me, then down at his dripping self and then back at me.
"Oh, what the hell," he surrendered, taking off his shirt and handing it to me. My grin widened and I turned away to go wash his lovely shirt, but I should have known that Bennett would never let me get off such a naughty prank unscarred. And so while I was being a submissive, obedient young lady and scrubbing his soiled shirt, he came up from behind me and showered me with what felt like five pounds of sand.
And he didn't leave it at that either, the scoundrel. He had to conclude with, "Now, I don't know about me, but it seems as though you're in dire need of a bath, Miss Sparrow."
Oh, Bennie. I thought you were a good boy too.
But I'm not complaining…