Disclaimer: "Pirates of the Caribbean" belong to Disney. Now there's a handful of songs that are not mine either: "When night falls" by Princess Walladah, "Wine and roses" by her lover ibn Zaydun, "En la fuente del rosel" by Diego Pisador and "Teresica hermana" by Mateo Flecha.
A/N: Princess Walladah and ibn Zaydun are two medieval poets from 11th century Cordoba. Both of them were quite renowned and their poems were made into songs in several modes and styles - and though it's doubtful that Ritchie would have known classical Andalusian poetry, there is a chance he'd have known the songs. Both songs used in this fic are sung in nahawand mode (a 'mode', or 'maqam' is a tone scale specific to Arabic music), my favourite - I simple couldn't resist. Bear with me, 'earties, yo ho!
I thank my all reviewers and readers, especially Alteng and Mint Condition (to whom I'm very grateful for a certain little metaphor. Thank you, love).
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V
Cats know everything, I think, looking at little Tarry playing with a piece of rope. I've slit its end, so it's now furry and therefore very interesting. She's jumping after it like mad, and when I let her have it, she lays on her back holding it triumphantly in her tiny paws.
She knows that her mistress doesn't have time to play with her. She understood it very quickly - much more quickly than I would; she gave up a hopeless fight - something that I was unable to do. And then, being a courageous little kitten, she left the basket, then the cabin, and went for a reconnaissance of a new territory, leaving her mistress with my master.
"You don't have any ambition, do you?" I say to her, when she's rubbing her round little head on my boots. She seems to like me for some strange reason. "Go back there and ruin their sweet evening."
She's not paying attention. Well, what do I have left? I'm on my first night watch and since nothing is going to happen anyway, I may play with this carefree cat. Ah, maybe she knows that worrying is not necessary; maybe she knows that her mistress will soon belong to her alone. I should learn from her, cats know everything. She could cooperate a little, though.
"No, no purring," I say scratching her between ears. "I'd be much obliged if you went back to the cabin and made some nice catcall. What say you? Scratching things and people would do as well."
"Fer God's sake, mate," I hear suddenly, "lost yer mind or what? Yer talking to a cat!"
"Hey, Squall," I say. "I like this cat, so I'm talking to her. What's so strange in it?"
"B-but it's an animal... it doesn't understand ye, right?"
"How do you know?" I grin. "Sometimes animals make humans look pretty stupid. They always know what to do. Especially cats. This one does nothing and her mistress still loves her. I'd like to see you to do this trick with anybody."
Squall blinks, he doesn't know what to say.
"Anyway, mate, stop it," he whispers nervously. "It's night, an' yer talking to a black cat. Remember what I told ye? Some fellows don't like ye, they think yer, like... um..."
I roll my eyes. It's true that after my unexpected discovery of the arrest warrant in La Rosa Sin Espina, and after my little performance in the scarlet dress the attitudes of the crew have changed again. They think me devilish and uncanny. Some of them started to hate and fear me openly. I've heard several voices regretting that they hadn't got rid of me in the beginning. They should've fucked me and then killed me immediately and not let me stay on La Aranha. Or at least, as Bleeding Hand said, they should've fucked me at least, because I wouldn't be parading around so insolently now.
All that rubbish doesn't worry me in the slightest, because I know that their frustration will go away when we land on St. Thomas, where they would again have a chance to get themselves some girls. I just make a mental note to dispose of Bleeding Hand as quickly as possible.
"Uhm, yeah, I know," I say absent-mindedly. "Always knew there are some big specimens of idiots among them. You can tell them so and then watch them quarrel, trying to prove they aren't idiots, and kill each other in the end."
Squall shakes his head.
"Ritchie, mate," he says, "I don't believe yer a devil, but ye'd better take care. Ye don't respect people an' yer playin' with 'em. 'Tis may end bad fer ye, man."
"Squall, son, what did you eat today?"
"Ah, damn you," he says and leaves me alone.
Poor Squall, he's trying to warn me, but I don't care for his warnings. I'm sick at heart. I don't care for anything. I'd like to kill somebody; I still have to use my pistol for the first time. I'm tired of seeing happiness, I'd like to see some blood; it may be mine as well.
How can anybody think that I'm able to play with people? I was trying to play with my Captain and I failed; then I was trying to be honest and I failed; nothing works with him, anything I try, I try in vain. He sees me through and he pretends he doesn't understand me; he just refuses to play by my rules.
He felt something like pity for me yesterday, I'm sure. I don't know what moved him so. I was standing by his side in the scarlet dress of my dead lover, playing a little whore for him, laughing, saying things that were utter nonsense to anybody but him and me, leaning on his arm and reminding him how my body feels like. I succeeded; it was easy. I've saved his ladylove, making fun of my own fate, and he must have understood it. But all I've got from him was that cheap pity: 'go to sleep, Ritchie'. Aha!... And you stay with your precious lady and give her every valuable thing that you have in your one-sided heart.
When I came back in the evening - to bring them supper and to prepare the cabin for the night - they were so engulfed in their own little world that they didn't even notice me. I was standing behind their chairs, pouring them wine and moving plates nearer, without a sound and without a word. And in the end I began to regret that I had washed my hands before touching their dishes. If I was dirty enough, the Captain would at least yell at me. Damn, I thought, I'm not a servant for these newlyweds! I wasn't born to be a servant or a timid labourer, or any creature humbly working for his daily bread, I'm not somebody to stand in the shadow cap-in-hand!
So I've dropped the tray for a beginning. And what did I get? A merciful glance from lady Rose and a brief, gruff 'get out' from the Captain. And what could I do? I got out and learned from Sharpe that I'm to keep the last dog watch; and then I was called back by the Captain to take the dishes to the galleys. That was all.
The next morning - this morning - proved to be more interesting. Lady Rose was a little bit pale, it seemed she didn't bear sea voyage well. The Captain was casting her anxious glances throughout breakfast. She almost didn't eat, her long white fingers were playing with a small piece of bread; she had her eyes fixed on the table cape and was silent for most of the time. I saw charts prepared already on the little table under the window. Yes, lady, he doesn't have time to be with you all day round; he's a captain and he has his tasks to fulfill, I thought looking at lady Rose's golden head, leaned tiredly on one side, and her nervous fingers on the bread.
I sighed to myself, waiting patiently for her to finish eating. I'm not allowed to eat myself before I finish serving the Captain and cleaning the cabin. I've never found it difficult to bear, because the Captain is always very fast with eating, but I was beginning to lose my patience with lady Rose sitting sickly at the table. I sighed again, and then caught Captain's look.
Narrowed green eyes. He wasn't in a good mood, apparently not accustomed to his lady being silent and mopish like that. Or was it just a humble presence of mine? Maybe both... and I was looking annoyingly well, compared to lady Rose. I'm not that delicate and I don't care if I'm on land or at sea. I'm a better companion, am I not, Captain?...
But as much as I previously wanted him to notice me, he scared me this time. He looked really irritated and I felt that he's only waiting for me to give him an excuse, and he'd be delighted to wreak his anger on me. I sensed that it's not safe to provoke him and lowered my eyes quickly, but not quickly enough.
"Don't pretend yer awake, ye lazy cad!" he snapped at me. "Move yerself, clean the cabin. Ye can take the dishes after. Yer not here to finish yer night sleep!"
I smiled to myself and went to open and clean the windows. It was a truly unpleasant, cloudy morning: the sea and the sky both had the colour of steel, and the ship was being rocked rather heavily. The Captain was waiting for lady Rose to finish, but had to come out of the cabin when Sharpe called him. I went to clean the bed, and in this moment lady Rose turned to me and said in a subdued voice:
"No, Ritchie, don't touch it. I will do this. Go and clean that window - " she pointed to the window on the other end of the cabin.
Those were the first words she spoke to me that morning.
I glanced over at the cursed bed. What is that? First the Captain forbids me to sit on it, then she is forbidding me even to touch it. Is it sacred or what? Did they make an altar out of it? Would I defile it? Well, lady, then you'd better run away from the chair you are sitting in, for your lover did - oh - order me to kneel on it once when he was taking me.
"That window has been cleaned already," I said innocently. It was a lie, but what the heck.
"It may have been cleaned," she said sharply, "but it is not clean. Leave the bed alone and go and clean the window."
"As you wish," I said and went to the window.
The Captain came back to the cabin and frowned at lady Rose still seated by the table. She saw this frown and sighed quietly.
"I've almost finished," she said. "Where is water? I'd like to wash my hands."
I opened the window making as much noise as possible.
"Ritchie?... I'd like to have some water."
"It's very close to you, m'lady," I said. "I'm cleaning the window and my hands are dirty."
She pressed her long fingers to her temples for a brief moment, then stood up and went around the table to take the water. The Captain glanced at us from over his charts, and I felt rather than saw his little cruel smile.
Lady Rose washed her fingers in a small bowl and then sat back in her chair without a word. I cast her a look over my shoulder and saw that she is watching me, openly and mockingly.
"It's true you... your hands are very dirty," she said with a little sigh, when I couldn't pretend anymore that I'm cleaning the window and went to the table. "But I cannot see the difference... they were the same before breakfast."
"We don't have water enough to spare on the likes of me," I said. "And working people don't wash as often as ladies do. Begging your pardon, m'lady, can I take the dishes back?..."
She blushed and the Captain, who left his charts and was going to go out of the cabin, probably to talk to Sharpe again, stopped next to me.
"Yer to wait here until lady Rose leaves the table," he said threateningly. "She hasn't finished her breakfast yet."
"Right," I murmured. "Maybe I could help her."
"What did ye say?..."
"Nothing, Captain," I said taking a step back, just in case.
"Oh, good. Ye'd better watch yer tongue."
"What a gloomy morning," said lady Rose in a conversational tone, when the Captain left the cabin finally. "To tell the truth, I don't feel like finishing my breakfast. Are you hungry, Ritchie?"
What's wrong with these two? They seem to think in the same way.
"No, I'm not hungry."
"Really?" she said, raising her brows. And my stupid stomach betrays me as usual.
"Oh look, you ARE hungry! Sit here and eat something."
Aha, you want the Captain to kill me when he's back and sees that I'm sitting and eating with his ladylove?
"No, thank you, m'lady, you're too kind," I said. "I may be hungry, but I'm not after your leftovers."
"You don't sound very believable, Ritchie," she said with a little smile. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. You're less reluctant in helping yourself when I'm not here, I presume."
"Well, I'm doing my best, m'lady, thank you," I said. "But still, I'd rather take these dishes back to the galleys and have my meal there."
"Are you afraid of the Captain?" she said with an understanding smile, crooking her head a little.
"Why should I be afraid of him?" I asked with a sudden feeling of humiliation.
"I can soften him, don't worry. He's a bit too harsh with you."
"No, he's not, m'lady. It's the way things are. And I'm no girl and don't need to be treated as such."
"But you can play a girl very well," she said without a smile.
"Can I take the bloody dishes to the galleys?" I asked loudly.
"Not before I rip yer foul tongue out."
We didn't notice the Captain. He was standing at the door - and evidently heard my last words. But I was so embittered that I didn't even move when he took me by the collar and dashed me against a wall.
"What did I tell ye, ye stinky little bastard? I told ye to wait for lady Rose to finish her breakfast, an' yer bein' saucy when ye think that I don't hear ye! An' ye didn't even clean the bed?!..."
Lady Rose, who was sitting horrified for awhile, started up from her chair, run around the table and caught his hand in her two little hands.
"Please, Captain, stop it!" she shouted. "It's not..."
"Go away an' sit there," he said coldly. "You are a guest on my ship an' nobody is goin' to forget it."
"But Captain, the bed... it's not Ritchie's fault! It's me... I've told him to leave it to me." She shook her golden head sadly. "It's an awful, awful day. I know this cabin is too little for us two and it's a huge inconvenience for you to have me here all the time... and this ship rocking makes me sick..."
He sighed, smiled and let me go, then took lady Rose's hands in his.
"An' what else will ye say, my poor lil' lady Rose? I know yer sea-sick, I know. We will be at St. Thomas in no time. Two, three days more. I'd like to have ye here as long as ye want, but it seems yer not destined to live on sea. It pains me to see yer sufferin' like that, an' ye shouldn't suffer any more. An' don't defend him, he's not worth it."
He glared over at me - I was trying to staunch blood from my nose and answered him with a look of an oppressed innocence.
"But it was me who told him not to clean the bed," said lady Rose in a small voice. He made an impatient move, but she didn't let him go. "And... please, do forgive him, Captain. It's... he's hungry, that's why..."
It didn't help me, of course.
"He's always hungry, he should have it beaten out of his head!"
"No, please don't, Captain," said lady Rose blushing and barring his way. It was delightful to watch her, she looked very sweet; I smiled with my hand under my nose. "Please, my head is aching so much already."
The Captain sighed.
"Ah, my lady Rose," he said, "ye have a headache, he's bleedin', I feel like in a nursery. Go an' try to sleep, 'tis the only advice I can give ye. An' yer to apologize an' thank lady Rose for pleadin' for ye."
"I apologize, m'lady, please forgive me," I said lowering my head. "I said too much. I'm sorry, I should have clean the bed first, as you told me."
She widened her eyes. The Captain laughed.
"Ye lied to save his skin? Yer too nice for him. Next time ye don't clean the bed, Ritchie, ye go without eatin' all day. An' now take the dishes an' get outta here."
Now I am laughing to myself, recalling the furious look she gave me. She was immensely angry that I didn't want her pity. Well, I don't need it. I don't need her to defend me. The more pity she is feeling for me, the more humiliation I feel. What have I ever done to her to be pitied like that? It bloody hurts.
She didn't speak a word to me after that breakfast and finished her dinner and supper very quickly. She was apparently not well and spent all day in bed; the Captain tried to cheer her up and told her that tomorrow weather is likely to be good. She smiled painfully, not very convinced. Finally I felt sorry for her and was going to propose bringing little Sancha over here (who was very bored under the deck, trying to play cards with Betsy, the cook and the rest of lady Rose's court), but the Captain told me to shut up in the moment when I opened my mouth, and threw me hurriedly out of the cabin.
The wind has calmed down and the waves don't rock the ship so much anymore, and some shy stars have shown up in the sky. I'm playing with little Tarry, waiting for Sharpe to change me. Two days. Two days more and we land on St. Thomas. And then what? We probably stay there to careen the ship and to settle up lady Rose's household - buy some estate, maybe. And all the crew must have their turn of drink and debauchery. Let's say, a week?... I just should patiently wait and then I will be alone with the Captain again.
"Only a week!..." I say to Tarry. She meows. And all of a sudden I hear a muffled giggle from the cabin. I strain my ears. It seems that lady Rose has recovered from her all-day illness. Oh, it's not just a giggle; she is laughing and talking rather loudly, and her voice is clear and strong. She pauses from time to time, but I can't hear the Captain. Gosh, it's late. They should go to sleep. Or wait, are they...
In the next moment I'm glued to the wooden wall of the cabin. I still have some time of my watch left; and I deserve amusement today. Oh no, Captain Barbossa, you will not get rid of me so easily. You can spend some time with your beloved lady, but she will go away, and I am here because of you, for you and with you.
"But Captain, I DO feel better. So much better! I can't believe I was so ill today... oh, I was such a nuisance! I haven't spent such an empty day for years. By God, Coles and Prescotts own me for this!"
"Aye, they own ye indeed, my lady Rose. But ye still look pale. Ye'd better..."
"No, no, no, Captain. I must requite you... please, give me your hand... here." Her sweet voice becomes mischievous again; she laughs quietly and the Captain laughs with her. "Ahh... you see? My face may be pale... but here, look..."
There is silence for awhile, and then -
"... here is the rose that is fresh and moist and sweet. Or... do you... think otherwise?..."
He answers her in a very, very quiet and amused voice, but I cannot hear him. What is he doing to her?... A rose?... A ros... ah, wait!...
"Or am I making a nuisance of myself now, Captain?..."
"I wish ye be such a nuisance as long as ye like... Now come here, lil' skittish lady."
'Come here'? But where is she now? I hear the rustle of her satin dress. She was very close to me, then. Oh, please, just a small chink for me!... But I can't find anything and soon have to resort only to listening.
First it's mainly lady Rose's voice. She is laughing with a deep, guttural laugh, and she sounds happy and contented like a turtledove in the sun; sometimes her laugh stops and I can hear her pant. He is talking to her, I recognize his voice full of that strange warmth, but I don't understand his words; they soon become muffled and I imagine him burying his face in lady Rose's golden hair. And then there comes lady Rose's first "aaah", almost sung in full voice, prolonged and clear.
Her voice is beautiful indeed, there is a melody in her lovemaking, as if she were playing and singing - playing an instrument that is her man, singing out her inner tune. Is he just listening to her? I cannot hear him, and I guess that it's not their first time today, because there is no haste, no thirst in them. Where are they?... The bed is there, but they are not in bed. The table?... Ah, I see - it's the chair.
Yes, it's the very chair lady Rose was sitting in today, the chair that the Captain and me had once been using. Now I can imagine her... no, I can imagine him in the embrace of her long legs and delicate hands. She didn't take her dress off, it's covering his breeches and boots; he's kissing her rosy face, her white neck, her breasts and her round knees that are so close to his lips. He doesn not need to move, he is watching her move. He is looking at her, kissing her, touching her, talking to her... He loves her. I know it already.
And then she stops laughing and her voice rises as if in a bewilderment, and I hear one sharp cry; then there is silence and only after awhile I recognize Captain's voice - he is calling her name.
Ah, it's only now that he comes. She is first. She is more important than him, it must be her who is to be satisfied and not him. He is thinking of her pleasure. I haven't ever imagined he can let the other come first. Ah, so this is how it should be with him. And what are they doing now?... I cannot hear a sound. They must sit together, exhausted, sleepy and happy. Ah, so this is how it should be... He doesn't thrust her away, he doesn't leave her in a hurry, he doesn't want to be alone soon after he reaches his satisfaction. He wants to feel her still.
"Mmm?..."
"Tomorrow... do you think it will be better?"
"Ye mean, the weather? It'll be splendid."
"How do you know?"
"I've been living at sea long before ye knew what sea is, lil' lady."
"Uhm... I was mean today... to your cabin boy. Poor thing! I just wanted to tease him, but it turned out badly..."
He murmurs something and I can say that it's not a pleasant subject to him... or to me, for that matter. Why should I make my appearance in their bed talk?
"No, how can you?... It's me who should apologize, in fact. I was telling the truth with the bed. I didn't want him to touch it, I don't know why." She laughs. "Or maybe I do."
The Captain chuckles.
"So it's him who was lyin'? Why?"
"Oh, I can see he's furious, because he thinks that I pity him, and he doesn't want my pity."
"Why should ye pity him?" I can imagine the Captain frown.
"Because he is defenceless..."
Me? Defenceless? Oh, wait, lady...
"... or at least he looks like that. But it's a pleasure to fence with him - he always picks up the glove."
Now it's better. But...
"Aye, he's way too shrewd for his own good."
"But you do like him, Captain, don't you?"
"Ah, my lady Rose," there is a trace of irritation in Captain's voice, "there's many more pleasant things to talk about... nearly everything."
"Captain, you do not need to pretend. Can't you see that Ritchie is in love with you?"
What the hell?!... Where has that ridiculous idea come from? What does she know of me and why does she care? I'm no girl, lady Rose, I'm not a threat to you; I'm not in love, and the most important thing is that your Captain is not in love with me - can you please leave me alone?
"Ah, me lil' lady, what are ye talkin' about in the middle of the night?..."
And he bursts into laughter.
"Captain Barbossa, I am not blind. He's watching you all the time. He'd do anything only to be close to you, can't you see that?"
"Look, lady Rose," he says sharply, "he has no reason to... there is no... ah, bollocks. Let's go to sleep."
"Captain, please, look at me."
There is a long silence and finally the Captain laughs again.
"Alright. I believe ye, lil' lady. What do ye want me to do with Ritchie, then?"
"What would you do with him?" she asks searchingly.
"What, d'ye want me to kill him?"
"Would you?..." she whispers. "How?"
My hands are becoming cold.
"If ye want, I can shoot him in the morning." The Captain's voice is a little bit too jaunty.
"Can you really?..."
"I am the captain here."
"Will you kill Ritchie Brown tomorrow then, Captain?"
I hold my breath, but the thumping of my heart doesn't allow me to hear what is going on in the cabin. For the Captain doesn't say anything; there is a brief silence - maybe he kissed her, maybe he touched her cheek - and then he laughs shortly, as if embarrassed.
She chuckles inexpectedly.
"Is that a 'no'?"
"Ah, yer a stubborn little lady. If ye insist..."
"Sure I do. And then please kill all your crew, and we will sail together in search of Utopia. Only two of us."
They are laughing now. So it was only a test? What is it with these two? Why do they like to play with others so much? Ah, it was a pleasant alteration to see the Captain being examined... but he was right, uh, it wasn't a nice subject at all.
The next morning is truly beautiful, the sea calm, the wind friendly. Lady Rose smiles to me, when I'm serving her, but I'm doing my best trying not to look at her and playing a modest and discreet servant that is not to be seen nor heard. I want her to forget about me. Her yesterday words might have been nothing more than some half-joke, the Captain may have been unwilling to get rid of me, but I'd rather be off lady Rose's way.
She is a little bit dismayed by my seriousness and gives me an inquiring glance. I don't answer, of course, and when I'm on my way out of the cabin, she stops me.
"Wait, Ritchie, I have something for you."
I blink. Something for me?
She takes my sleeve rather unceremoniously and places something in my hand. Lute strings!
"I almost forgot," she says with a laugh.
"Change the strings now," says the Captain with a generous nod. "We don't have musicians except ye an' Squall. An' a pirate vessel without music is an unsuccesful one."
"Aye, Captain," I say happily and flee out of the cabin. I've forgotten the lute. It's not such an excellent thing like the one that lady Rose has just received from the Captain, but it still can do. And when I have an instrument to play, I cannot grieve much, I cannot even think of myself. I'm away.
"Hey, Squall, mate," I shout to him, "we're going to make a little consort from now on. Take the drum. And remember, the first day we're on land, we have to find somebody who can play fiddle, and lure him onto the ship, alright?"
"Ye mean, when we land on St. Thomas?"
"Ah, anywhere, mate. Just remember it."
It takes me some time to replace the strings, but the work is finally over, and I try the first loose accords. It's been a long time since I was allowed to play something at my free will - if not to count the duel between lady Rose and me - and now I have to keep away all my favourite melodies and songs that start to hum around my head, demanding that I play them. Oh well, I'm just trying the new strings, I can do anything I please. I give up and let the melodies take over - my hand taps the lute box lightly, picking up a lascivious Andalusian tune. Squall widens his eyes when I start to sing - I cannot speak Arabic, but I know some songs in it. Ah, let's sing about the night of passion - this poem was written by Princess Walladah when she was still in love.
"Hey, mate, what's this?" exclaims Squall. He's delighted, his eyes are shining. I've underestimated him; the fellow knows what is good in music.
"Nice song, isn't it?"
"Mate, 'twas very good, but... um... what was it?"
"An Andalusian song. I've learnt it when was in Istanbul... it's a long story."
"Ye mean it's what... Arabic? Never heard nothin' like that. What was it about?"
""Expect me when night falls,
For the night is the best for hiding our secrets,
If the stars could feel my passion for you,
They would not go for their night journey,
The sun would not shine, the moon would not rise.'"
"Ah, this is good, mate!"
"You think? It's easy to learn," I say. Squall gulps. Ah, the playful, sweet, cheerful nahawand mode, it's really easy to fall in love with you.
"D-do you know more of these?"
"Ah, sure. Listen, try to catch the rhythm, alright?"
"Must listen to more, an' I can try then."
Some of the pirates are gathering shyly around us. They seem to like it. Oh, good, maybe I can count on them when we need a new musician. I smile; the sun has risen for me, the previous night seems to be so far away.
"This one is 'bout loooove too, you know."
"I'd prefer some with love," says Squall. Whee, it seems he met a nice girl in La Rosa Sin Espina. Too bad that he cannot see her again.
"What about the rhythm?"
"Sing some more, I'll see."
The door of the Captain's cabin open - it's lady Rose. She doesn't go out, her silhouette in the light cloud of laces and ribbons is barely visible in the darkness, yet strangely familiar and clear to me. The Captain doesn't let her leave the cabin when the people are close, he doesn't want to show them that they are in a beautiful woman's presence. I smile again. Ah, music is a blessed thing, an irresistible decoy to all creatures.
"This one is about love too, mate," I say. "And about wine. And roses."
'So many times I asked my gazelle for wine,
And she offered me wine and roses as well,
And I spent the night licking the wine from her lips
And gathering roses from her cheeks.'
I can see that not only the pirates and lady Rose is listening to me. The Captain is standing by the door, with his arms crossed as usual, with his eyes narrowed. He's looking somewhere else past me, apparently relaxed and thinking about something pleasant. Well, he's awaiting at least one nice week on St. Thomas, with lady Rose and all delights she can give him. He's happy and sated, as is she... I look slyly at her light blue dress. I knew I saw it somewhere: it's one of the dresses my dona Ursula was wearing.
Oh no, no more nice songs in the nahawand mode and language that you can't understand.
"Hey, Squall, let's try a more familiar tune. I'll teach you Andalusian music later."
"Alright," says Squall blinking.
"Do you know 'En la fuente del rosel'?"
"The Spanish song?"
"Aye, about a boy and a girl."
Hah, it's a funny song, isn't it, Captain? A boy and a girl are washing in the rose bush, they are washing their faces in a very strange manner - 'el a ella y ella a el', he is washing hers and she his...
The men around us are laughing and lady Rose turns her back to us. Oh well, I can sing another one, maybe that one about beautiful Isabel that lost her girdle, or that one about little sister Teresa. Pity there's no roses in that song.
"Do you know this one, Squall?"
'Ah, sweet sister Teresa, I'd like only to spend one night with you, just one night...' 'I'd be very pleased to spend one night with you, but I'm so much afraid of getting pregnant,' she says. But why can't her mother find little Teresa in the night?...
The men roar with laughter, but the Captain is not very pleased. It seems that they just tried to find themselves something to do near the cabin only to hear us play. And the songs are a little bit too funny for the Captain's lady's liking... I hope.
"What are ye all doin' here in this time of day, ye lazy dogs! There's no time to listen to the music! An' ye two, enough for today. Be off to work, now!"
Squall is very interested in learning new things and is asking me many questions about Ottoman Empire and Spain, when we're as always scrubbing the deck. I'm answering in monosyllables, waiting for the night to come. I want to see the Captain and his lady, not only to hear them. I've managed to make a nice split in the wall with my knife, and I will watch them or my name isn't Ritchie Brown.
But there comes the first blow. Sharpe tells me that things changed and it's Bleeding Hand, not me, who is to keep the watch tonight - Captain's orders. I don't protest. How could I? I don't say anything even when I hear that I'm not going to keep the watch in the next day either.
And then, when we land on St. Thomas, comes the second blow. I am to stay on the ship. I'm not allowed to go anywhere; I have to help with the careening and then I am to keep the watch - every night. I'm not to place my feet on land except during the careening.
I couldn't believe my own ears when Sharpe told me that. Some of us were already walking down the trap, and the beautiful port of Charlotte Amalie was calling us in thousands of voices - but Sharpe stopped me with his hand on my chest.
"I'm not to go anywhere? I can't even spend my money? What's that, for Christ's sake?"
"Christ or not, yer to stay onboard. Captain's orders."
"But he didn't say..."
Sharpe smiled with delight and looked at his hands big as shovels. He was in his best, devilishly genial mood today; were it a usual day at sea, I'd have new bruises already.
"Ye see, Ritchie," he said, "the Captain doesn't need to communicate his will to ye. First, yer to listen to ev'rybody that's older than ye, even to Squall, ye know that. Second, it's me who's the second-in-command here. Understood? Or d'ye want me to explain it with me hands?"
"No, 'tis no necessary," I said.
"An' the Captain said that if ye really want to go ashore, ye may go. But don't come back."
"Wh-what do you mean?"
"What I said. Yer to listen to orders or yer free to go away, as long as we are on land. Simple."
"Alright," I said. "I'm staying."
What could I do? There is no place for me to go. It's true, I'm not a pirate yet, I could leave La Aranha now, when we're staying in the peaceful harbour. Most good folks would do this. I'm free, I haven't done anything that would make me an outlaw, there's no bounty on my head, nobody knows me here. I could try to go to work... go into service even. I can read and write, maybe I'd be of use. I could stay here, work, earn some money, live peacefully, find myself a girl, marry, have children and die a good death...
I look upon the night sky, listening to the night noises of the harbour going slowly to sleep. It's warm and the island is breathing in a sweet, lazy breath. Many days have gone from the moment when Sharpe has stopped me, and I haven't been ashore, if not to count the careening. Do I really want to see this little sleepy town? I've been thinking about leaving La Aranha every day, but I know I cannot do this. I don't care a damn for a good work, good life, good family, less of all for a good death. It's not for me, I've never believed in things like this. I've always found good, decent folks much more stupid and vile than I thought. They have to move, pray, love and kill in flock, or they languish from anxiety that there is something wrong with them - and this is why they have to think in flock too. And this is why they are easy to prey.
I'd rather be with the Captain than with good folks, how could have he thought that I'd prefer to stay among the flock? Who would follow the flock when he can follow the Captain? And I am already a part of the crew; the work is not so hard, I can learn how to fight, and if I'm lucky, I may gain some money too. And the Captain cannot be left alone, with nobody to talk to except all these plain fellows of his crew. I can write and read and play and sing, and some more things - I will prove myself useful anyway.
For the remaining days on St. Thomas I am silent and obedient. I'm not seeing the Captain much, he spends most of his time on land, helping lady Rose to settle. He's returning to the ship very rarely and doesn't talk to me much. I don't start any conversation, I don't ask anything, I just do what I am told and wait. The Captain is not noticing me at all - because I just bring him food and clean his cabin silently, making myself as little noticeable as I can. I keep the night watches strictly, I work at day and when I'm free, I beguile the time teaching Squall to play drum in nahawand mode (Squall was granted three days on land, to my surprise). And I am patiently waiting for our stay to come to an end.
The day before leaving the Captain is already on the ship from the afternoon, and I'm to keep the middle watch, from the midnight to four in the morning. It was the same yesterday, I've got accustomed to night watches and I no longer have to fight sleepiness. I lean on the handrails, looking at the town that I have to leave before visiting. I wonder if I can see it again. I will remember only the strange smell of the port, the smell of jasmine, fresh wood and dead fish; and the blessed taste of fruits I've never eaten before - papaya, guava, the wonderful sugar apple, then bananas and pineapples, and my favourite fruit called summer mango that has something of both banana and pineapple with the touch of apricot in it. I've eaten the tannia root soup and a funny fried bread called Johnny-cakes, and a very good pastry filled with saltfish, and I've had something that tastes like beer with soap and is called 'maubi', but it's fruits I'll remember most fondly... now where I know that there will be nothing to eat but scanty rations of salted meat, hard-tack and occassionally fish, I start to feel something like regret. The place seems a paradise on earth. I could find myself a nice nest here to live.
When we were resting during the careening of the ship, I saw a very strange little creature - it looked like a dragon that hunts after virgins and kills brave knights, only that it was rather tiny - and Squall told me it's called 'iguana' and loves to eat those red hibiscus flowers. I went to find the flowers and lo, the creature wasn't afraid to come to me and eat from my hand. If it is so trustful, it means that really peaceful folks live here; it may be easier to live here than I suppose. And maybe I should stay here - maybe I should leave these stupid 'brothers' of mine, who started to whisper something about devil again when they saw me feeding the poor creature with beautiful hibiscus flowers. Maybe I should stay. The Captain doesn't care for me anyway.
I look at the cabin's closed door. Why didn't he order me to stay there tonight? We're leaving in the morning, I should be in the cabin when he needs me. Did he forget that I'm his cabin boy? Or does he want to be alone this last night in the St. Thomas? I wonder what he is doing at this time of the night - the candles in his cabin are still lit. It's dangerous. He was so busy today, supervising the men who were stocking the ship with food and water supplies; maybe he fell asleep at the table. I'd better take a look if everything is alright.
But before I grab the door knob, I hear a soft whimper. It's not the Captain's voice. It's lady Rose's. Do I have hallucinations? I didn't see lady Rose today. How is it possible that she is onboard?
I find the split in the wall I had made before. No, it was not an illusion. In the middle of the dimly lit cabin, on the Captain's bed, sits lady Rose, so vivid and shining in the bright satin dress, with the laced mantilla that was obviously hiding her head, but now is covering her arms. She sits with her back to me, but I can tell that it's her voice I've just heard; she is crying, crying against her will.
I've never seen her other than smilling, laughing or furious, and now I feel as if the world were going to end. What happened? Why is she so unhappy and miserable that she must resort to crying? A quarrel? Or does the Captain want to leave her? No, it would be too hideous and cruel to desert her like that, just after all that fear she must have felt when she was made to flee Antigua. She needs solace and comfort now...
Oh, but she is finding solace and comfort here - her face is now taken in two strong hands, and her whimpers become muffled in the Captain's generous embrace. I nearly chuckle now, because it seems that she is sitting on his lap, and he had to move her away so that he could sit too. He's ruffling her golden hair with a forbearing smile, as he would do to a child - and she looks like a little girl in his embrace. It's the first time when I see them in each other's arms, and only now I realize that lady Rose is much more younger than the Captain. She can be twenty-four or twenty-five, and the Captain is probably ten years older. She always looked equally noble and calm when with him, and it's why I thought her to be of the same age - but now when I see her in sadness and despair, I understand how fragile and vulnerable she is.
Finally she stops sobbing and whispers something in a small voice.
"Aye, lil' lady, and sorry ye should be," says the Captain. "Bad habits ye have an' ye do nothin' to get rid of 'em. Yer havin' forebodin' of evil every time I leave, an' yer bein' proved wrong every time I go back. Will ye grow up till next time?"
"I can't promise," she protests a little bit defiantly. "How could I not worry about you when I know what you risk?"
"I risk nothin'."
"You risk your life, Captain, the only thing that is yours and that I want to make mine forever. You are risking your neck every day I am not with you! You are like a little boy when his mommy isn't watching..."
He bursts into laughter.
"Aye, I do resemble a lil' boy when I'm with ye. It's not good, not at all. I have to go to sea for awhile, just to remind myself that I'm a man."
"I don't need gifts, I don't need money, I don't need clothes and dresses and jewels, I don't need anything..."
"Ye don't?..."
"Oh well... not so much!..." she laughs. "Don't let my greed dim your reason. Don't attack bigger vessels because you want to give me more. Don't... oh no, I can't think..."
She shakes her head. He places his hands on her tiny shoulders.
"Rose," he whispers, "Rose, look at me."
She becomes quiet, he touches her cheek.
"Yer not allowed to doubt in me. I need ye laughin' into the face of the world and thinkin' that I'm laughin' with ye. I'm comin' back every time an' I will come back now. There's nothin' that would stop me in me way to ye. Be I cursed, be I damned - I will always find me way to ye."
She slowly, as in a dream, reaches out her hand and touches his cheek in reply; then she touches his lips, and even more slowly draws herself closer - now she's blocking out my view and I can't see the Captain's face; but I can see his hands that embrace her head and start pulling out her hairpins. Lady Rose doesn't wait, she wriggles her way out of the dress, tearing ribbons and murmuring a little 'damn' from time to time.
Something very reasonable inside of me tells me that I should go away; it tells me that I should be jealous. But I shake my head and stay - my admiration for these two is much more greater than my little poor hurt feelings. I want to see them together, in fact, I want to see the Captain's face when he is coming again - it was only once I could see him like that. And for I know all too well that he will never be with me as he is now with lady Rose, I want at least see what I am missing.
The dress is so complicated to take off that lady Rose had to abandon her intention of undressing, at least for awhile; she's clinging to the Captain half-naked, with her pearly white shoulders wrapped around him. He's kissing her breasts and hands and elbows and neck and arms, he cannot tear himself away, and she is trembling a soft constant tremble. The candles around the cabin shrink, but lady Rose seems to gather all their lights into her; her golden head glitters, her lustrous dress shines, and she starts to laugh quietly, when he bows over to take her little right foot in his hand to place her long leg in a white silk stocking around his waist.
"No, wait," she says. "I want to be free."
And she stands on the bed between his legs, so that the folds of the dress cover Captain's chests and hands. He doesn't want to let her go, so he reaches out and holds her hips under the dress. She shakes her head again, laughing, and the hairpins that were still left in her hair fall out on the cabin's wooden floor. Lady Rose is fighting with the dress and finally she takes over; she steps out of it and kicks it out of the bed. I hold my breath: she is naked, without any underwear. It's been awhile since I've seen a naked woman, and her skin is so clean and glossy that it blinds me for a moment. And the Captain looks like he is blinded too; he narrows his eyes with a smile. Lady Rose stands on one leg and takes one stocking off, then another - and then she starts to lower herself down. I blink: I was so enchanted by her that I didn't notice that the Captain was half-naked from the beginning. Oh, and not only half-naked he was - he was ready all the time also.
He rises up a little to look at her, maybe to guide her, but she takes his hands and places them in her hips again, embracing his hips with her thights in turn, and leaning over so that she can touch his lips with hers, she starts to move. Slowly, patiently she finds her rhythm on him, and then she abruptly straightens her bright, lean body up, gaining speed as if she wanted to fly away and only his hands on her thights were stopping her. He is holding her firmly, pressing her legs and buttocks to him and diving deeper and deeper into her. She bows her head from time to time to place a haste, light kiss on his forehead or cheek or lips, and straightens up again, with the flowing mane over and around her fierce head - and they look like a ship in full speed, sailing towards a dark ocean with a defiantly glittering golden sail.
She is moaning with that soft deep voice of hers, and the Captain rises up towards her again and embraces her greedily, taking her wild head into the warm crook of his arm, and she cries helplessly leaning herself suddenly on him. He is holding and rocking her proudly, stroking her wet, shuddering back. She embraces his shoulders in reply and they are sitting motionlessly for a long, long while, until she finally rises up and lets him go.
But then she suddenly whispers:
"Oh, love, love, why did you let me come?"
"'Tis nothin', lil' lady. Let's go to sleep."
"Oh no, love, this is not right! How can I leave you like this? You make me flying with delight and you are denying yourself pleasure?"
"Who told ye I'm denyin' myself anything, silly? It's because I'm lookin' at ye, an' I'm goin' to look at ye even when ye sleep tonight."
He sits up, but she kneels by his side and pulls him closer, holding his hand. I cannot see him...
"I will not have it, Captain, I'm not going to leave you unsatisfied."
"Yer not leavin' me unsatisfied. 'Tis not necessary for me to be satisfied, my lil' lady. I'm not a small boy that must spill his seed to be happy. Lie down, please."
She stops him again.
"Let me," she says simply, wrapping her delicate hands around his hips and lowering her head.
I feel my eyes widen and my breath hold. I would never think of lady Rose's sweet red lips touching the Captain's erect cock. I have never seen a woman doing this to a man. I've heard that it's popular among the French, but well, there are so many things that people say about French love and I don't believe them a bit since I've met French girls more than once. I've met English, Spanish and Italian girls as well, and it's impossible to buy that favour from them for a reasonable amount of money. No unfortunate, even the low of the lowest, would take a cock into her mouth so lightly and casually as lady Rose is going to do. Many men may have a fancy to make their lover do that for them, but no self-respecting woman would gratify that fancy. And I can see that the Captain is surprised even more than me - surprised and moved so deeply that he cannot accept it.
"Rose, my treasure," he says raising her up, "no, I won't have it now."
"Please."
"No, I want it, but not here," he says, his tender look on her blushing face. "For this night, yer generosity is enough for me. We do not need to hurry. We have more nights before us than ye think, impatient lil' lady. Or ye don't believe I will be back to ye?"
"Oh, n-no..."
"Good. I will be back faster than ye can imagine, just to have this gift from ye. Ye keep it for me. An' now go to sleep."
His eyes - they are blue, I think now, not green - are fixed on her and it's clear that her eagerness stirred some hidden feelings in him. It's hard, very hard to him to restrain himself, and if she insisted, he wouldn't have much more to say. But I can see that it cost her dearly to offer it to him, and her little ears redden wildly, even her neck and arms are deep pink. She doesn't say anything, just clings to him, and he embraces her in silence, and with this sight before my eyes - his long fingers on her bare back, glittering with sweat - I leave my watching place; it's time that Paco should take his post from me.
I cannot sleep, I stay with him instead of going under the deck. It's dawn already, the harbour is awake and the sea breeze freshens my feverish face. Wherever I look - the greenish sea, the rosy sky, the white and red buildings of Charlotte Amalie - I see my Captain and his lady making love. Ah, I want to be here when lady Rose leaves the ship. I want to see her stay ashore when we turn her little town to our rudder. I want to be sure that she won't hide somewhere in the cabin again.
She comes out, finally. It seems that she came when Squall was on watch, because she smiles to him, and he answers with a broad happy smile - he must have get a gold coin from her again. She says farewell to some of us - the rest is busying themselves with the last preparations for leaving - looks at me briefly, I lower modestly my eyes - then takes Captain's hand and lets him lead her ashore, where Betsy and the cook are waiting for her already. The Captain kisses her hand ceremoniously, she curtseys. No tears, no despair. Her face is clear and calm, only a little bit paler and thinned. She left all her fears and sorrows away, now she is herself, the brave lady Rose, again. And I sigh with a strange feeling of relief. She should be always like this, or the Captain might give up his trade for her someday.
"Hey, Ritchie, what are ye doin', man?" shouts Pete-Smallpox. "Run to the galleys fer the Captain's breakfast! An' watch out fer yerself today, alright?"
"What do you mean?"
"Ah, don't be dumb, mate. Poor old devil will be out o'sorts all day. He's just left his lady, mind. Keep a low profile, it's me good advice to ye."
But I don't care for his good advices. I can be alone with the Captain at last and it makes me dizzy with joy. I'm not afraid of him; if he wants to find vent for his irritation, well, here I am. He will need me anyway, some day or other.
But he's busy with his charts and just orders me grudgingly to leave tray under the window and be off.
"Should I clean the cabin, Captain?" I ask innocently, looking at lady Rose's hairpins scattered on the floor.
"I told ye to be off!" he shouts.
"Oh God, aye, Captain," I murmur and run away.
And it happens that I'm running to and fro all day round, because even Sharpe is not very willing to go to the Captain's cabin to ask for orders, and he prefers to send me instead. Generally, everybody is relieved to see that I'm still in one piece when emerging from the cabin. But at last I start to doubt my luck when the Captain yells at me that I should be fed to the sharks for not cleaning the cabin.
"But Captain, it's you who told me that I'm to leave it like this... I'm innocent, I swear!..."
"Ye weren't innocent even in yer mother's womb, ye lazy brat!... Yer to shut up an' listen, not to talk back, or ye'll be keepin' watch all night!"
"Aha, he's got crossed finally," says Squall with a wicked smile, when I fly out of the cabin.
"No reason to grin, stupid," I say wincing. "Go and try to please him yourself. It's like he's eaten only pepper today or something."
"Shhh, shut up, ye idiot," says Squall and runs away from the cabin door. Sure, now everybody is leaving me with this demon of a captain.
But when I have a free moment, I just stay by the railing and look at the sea. It's strange how it calms me and gives me a feeling of certainty that everything is as it's meant to be. I've never had feeling like this before, I don't know the sea, I don't know where I am or where I am going, I don't have an aim, I've almost forgotten my past and I don't care for my future; could I say that I am happy?
And when the evening comes, I bring the Captain his meal and wait with my heart beating wildly for his orders. It's been a long time since he told me to sleep here, I almost can't remember it. I'm leaning on the door, not sure what to do.
"What are ye lookin' at?" the Captain asks me. "Don't tell me yer hungry again."
"No, I'm not, Captain."
"So where's yer blanket, stupid? Forgot that yer workin' here, or got tired of yer service already? Jus' tell me in case ye changed yer mind. If I have ye thrown overboard, ye still might reach the shore pretty quickly."
"No, I'm going for the blanket right now," I say quietly, trying to hide my joy.
When I'm back, he tells me to make the bed and clean the table, leaving only the bottle of wine. Ah, he's feeling lonely, he's so lonely that he's going to drink alone. I feel my heart bleed for him. Again a long journey among the dirty gobs talking in hoarse voices, helpless without him and fearing him; and again, danger is all that awaits him. He promised his lady to be back, but he has another lady by his side, and I know her, because I have my own too - Lady Death is her name.
"Can I pour you more wine, Captain?"
He moves his bowl closer without a word. He pretends that he is just finishing his supper, but his severe, tired face and his distant gaze tell me otherwise. Ah, what can I do for you, Captain? If you order me to drink with you, I will, but you would not do this, because I'm not your equal. If you want me to play or sing something for you, I will, but you don't care for it. If you want me to tell you some funny stories from my funny life, I will, but you care for my life even less. If you want me in your bed, I will gladly do as told, but you think of your lady and you don't notice me. Or is it me who should take the first step?...
"What the hell are ye doin', ye lil' screw-up?!"
I've spilled the wine.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Captain," I exclaim and fall on my knees before him. "I'm so sorry, I'll clean it this moment."
I've spilled the wine all over him.
"I wonder how ye managed to serve as a maid for as long as one hour."
I've spilled the wine mostly over his breeches.
"I might be a better maid than a cabin boy, it's true, Captain," I say with my hands on his knees, "but I will learn, I promise." And I spread his legs apart - but before I manage to touch his crotch, he snatches the cloth from my hand.
"Enough," he says, "go clean the table."
"No, Captain," I say shoving away his hands gently, but resolutely. "No, I won't..."
"Wh..."
"Shhh, please," I whisper unfastening his belt with my hands that are trembling just so slightly. I've never done this before. I haven't even seen anybody doing it, for that matter.
The Captain is surprisingly silent and I raise my head in fear. He is watching me with a strange expression - I don't know what it is, bewilderment? Shock? Curiosity? Whatever, I cannot let him wake up from it, because it seems that he's going to let me what I want to do. I'd rather not to look at him, maybe he'd like to imagine that it's his lady offering her gift to him and not me...
When I unbutton his breeches and take him in my hand, he makes one more effort to push me away, but I'm clinging to him firmly. I feel heat on my face.
"Please, Captain, do let me," I say pleadingly with my mouth just an inch from his cock. I can tell that he likes the sight - he draws his breath - and I feel him harden even more. He wants me to do it. I smile and take him into my mouth.
I knew that he's big, but I've never imagined that it's so difficult to work over all this length. I'm trying my best keeping my teeth away from the hard silken hotness, but I know I'm not very skillful, and when I hear him calling my name, I raise my eyes in fear.
He's looking at me. I ask him with my eyes if there's anything that he wants, but I quickly realize that no, it's all. He wants me to look at him too. I almost forget to continue under this attentive, thoughtful look, until he urges me gently with his hand on my neck. I blink and get back to my endeavours again. And he slowly inserts his fingers into my hair, making me look at him all the time. It's the first unnecessary tender touch that I get from him, and it makes me melt. And it's me that he wants to watch with his face blushed and mouth panting, and slightly widened, bright eyes - it's me, not some image of his beloved lady or any other girl doing it to him. I'm half-conscious fighting my own desire; I'd like to touch myself, but I can't believe he lets me touch him like this, and I'm clinging to him with both my hands, afraid to lose it. He has to see all this madness and greed in my eyes, because all of a sudden he strengthtens his grip in my hair and I have my mouth full before I can understand what happened. Awww, I've forgotten about this one little thing!... What should I do with it now?
I pull away a little, but I don't want to go anywhere, I remain just like I was, kneeling before him; only that I'm not able to look at him from shame, and press my forehead to his knees.
He takes me lightly by my shoulders and makes me raise my head. I cast my eyes to the floor; he starts to laugh, loudly and wholeheartedly.
"Ah, Ritchie," he says, "ye impudent, brazen, shameless... Now look at me an' tell me, what did ye do with all the load?"
"Nothing," I murmur feeling rather miserably.
"Swallowed it all?" He chuckles again. "Wait a little."
I'm still sitting on the floor when he gives me his bowl with wine.
"Here," he says. "Drink. 'Tis nothin' delicious, I can imagine."
"Um... thank you," I say, still unable to look directly at him.
"Now, now, no need to be so shy. How many times have ye done this?"
"Not even once," I say blushing again.
He frowns with disbelief.
"Yer first? M'God, yer talented then."
"It's not a lie," I say almost with tears in my eyes. "It's been a long time since I lied to you last time, Captain."
"Alright, alright, I believe ye," he says patting me on the head. "Ritchie Brown bein' a virgin, though... doesn't sound like truth to me."
I sigh. If not my easy virtue, he'd have a lonely time with his own hand now.
"Um, Captain..."
"What?"
"Can I have some more?"
"Ah, sure ye can. Only don't expect me to pour it for ye again."
I'm drinking wine slowly, looking at him; he's watching me with his gaze suddenly distant as before.
"Sit down," he says finally.
I sit.
"Why didn't ye stay on St. Thomas?"
"Why... did you want me to stay?" I feel my heart beating harder again.
He sighs.
"I expected ye to stay."
I stop drinking; the wine tastes bitter.
"Ye saw that we're safe in English and French harbours. But it's not a safe trade, Ritchie. We're goin' to fight an' be fought, to kill an' be killed. Ye don't know this life. It'd be better for ye not to try it."
"But Captain, I've tried it already!..."
"No, ye haven't. Nobody knows yer here. Ye could start a new life on St. Thomas. Why didn't ye stay?"
I take a deep breath.
"I don't know," I say innocently, lowering my eyes. "Maybe it was too small for me."
He laughs briefly; I can see he's not very amused.
"Once ye've been in a fight, Ritchie, ye cannot go back. An' if ye stay an' sail with us, ye're goin' to get remembered. An' if ye get remembered, ye may hang someday."
"I don't care," I say cheerfully.
"Ah, I can say ye don't care. I knew it the moment I saw ye. But in this trade only death is sure enough to be counted on. It's not easy to avoid death when yer goin' on account."
"Captain," I say quietly, "if you don't want me on your ship, why don't you kill me? I, for my poor part, want to stay."
He smiles, narrowing his eyes.
"Good," he says. "No more sermons wasted on a young jailbird, then. Clean the table an' go to sleep."
"Um, Captain..."
"What d'ye want this time? Ye've drunk all the wine."
"N-no, it's not the wine..."
"If it's not the wine, shut the hell up an' go to sleep. I will tell ye when I need ye, understood?"
"Aye, Captain," I say patiently. "Perfectly."
I sigh to myself, making my blanket more comfortable for the night. La Aranha is slowly rocking me asleep, and I hear the Captain breathing peacefully in the dark. Ah, I cannot believe what I have just done. He accepted my gift, but I know that it's because he feels that he can treat me with the gloves off. He still doesn't care about me, he neither loves me nor respects me; I understand it. I just need more time to be able to get what I want.
A/N: Princess Walladah and ibn Zaydun are two medieval poets from 11th century Cordoba. Both of them were quite renowned and their poems were made into songs in several modes and styles - and though it's doubtful that Ritchie would have known classical Andalusian poetry, there is a chance he'd have known the songs. Both songs used in this fic are sung in nahawand mode (a 'mode', or 'maqam' is a tone scale specific to Arabic music), my favourite - I simple couldn't resist. Bear with me, 'earties, yo ho!
I thank my all reviewers and readers, especially Alteng and Mint Condition (to whom I'm very grateful for a certain little metaphor. Thank you, love).
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V
Cats know everything, I think, looking at little Tarry playing with a piece of rope. I've slit its end, so it's now furry and therefore very interesting. She's jumping after it like mad, and when I let her have it, she lays on her back holding it triumphantly in her tiny paws.
She knows that her mistress doesn't have time to play with her. She understood it very quickly - much more quickly than I would; she gave up a hopeless fight - something that I was unable to do. And then, being a courageous little kitten, she left the basket, then the cabin, and went for a reconnaissance of a new territory, leaving her mistress with my master.
"You don't have any ambition, do you?" I say to her, when she's rubbing her round little head on my boots. She seems to like me for some strange reason. "Go back there and ruin their sweet evening."
She's not paying attention. Well, what do I have left? I'm on my first night watch and since nothing is going to happen anyway, I may play with this carefree cat. Ah, maybe she knows that worrying is not necessary; maybe she knows that her mistress will soon belong to her alone. I should learn from her, cats know everything. She could cooperate a little, though.
"No, no purring," I say scratching her between ears. "I'd be much obliged if you went back to the cabin and made some nice catcall. What say you? Scratching things and people would do as well."
"Fer God's sake, mate," I hear suddenly, "lost yer mind or what? Yer talking to a cat!"
"Hey, Squall," I say. "I like this cat, so I'm talking to her. What's so strange in it?"
"B-but it's an animal... it doesn't understand ye, right?"
"How do you know?" I grin. "Sometimes animals make humans look pretty stupid. They always know what to do. Especially cats. This one does nothing and her mistress still loves her. I'd like to see you to do this trick with anybody."
Squall blinks, he doesn't know what to say.
"Anyway, mate, stop it," he whispers nervously. "It's night, an' yer talking to a black cat. Remember what I told ye? Some fellows don't like ye, they think yer, like... um..."
I roll my eyes. It's true that after my unexpected discovery of the arrest warrant in La Rosa Sin Espina, and after my little performance in the scarlet dress the attitudes of the crew have changed again. They think me devilish and uncanny. Some of them started to hate and fear me openly. I've heard several voices regretting that they hadn't got rid of me in the beginning. They should've fucked me and then killed me immediately and not let me stay on La Aranha. Or at least, as Bleeding Hand said, they should've fucked me at least, because I wouldn't be parading around so insolently now.
All that rubbish doesn't worry me in the slightest, because I know that their frustration will go away when we land on St. Thomas, where they would again have a chance to get themselves some girls. I just make a mental note to dispose of Bleeding Hand as quickly as possible.
"Uhm, yeah, I know," I say absent-mindedly. "Always knew there are some big specimens of idiots among them. You can tell them so and then watch them quarrel, trying to prove they aren't idiots, and kill each other in the end."
Squall shakes his head.
"Ritchie, mate," he says, "I don't believe yer a devil, but ye'd better take care. Ye don't respect people an' yer playin' with 'em. 'Tis may end bad fer ye, man."
"Squall, son, what did you eat today?"
"Ah, damn you," he says and leaves me alone.
Poor Squall, he's trying to warn me, but I don't care for his warnings. I'm sick at heart. I don't care for anything. I'd like to kill somebody; I still have to use my pistol for the first time. I'm tired of seeing happiness, I'd like to see some blood; it may be mine as well.
How can anybody think that I'm able to play with people? I was trying to play with my Captain and I failed; then I was trying to be honest and I failed; nothing works with him, anything I try, I try in vain. He sees me through and he pretends he doesn't understand me; he just refuses to play by my rules.
He felt something like pity for me yesterday, I'm sure. I don't know what moved him so. I was standing by his side in the scarlet dress of my dead lover, playing a little whore for him, laughing, saying things that were utter nonsense to anybody but him and me, leaning on his arm and reminding him how my body feels like. I succeeded; it was easy. I've saved his ladylove, making fun of my own fate, and he must have understood it. But all I've got from him was that cheap pity: 'go to sleep, Ritchie'. Aha!... And you stay with your precious lady and give her every valuable thing that you have in your one-sided heart.
When I came back in the evening - to bring them supper and to prepare the cabin for the night - they were so engulfed in their own little world that they didn't even notice me. I was standing behind their chairs, pouring them wine and moving plates nearer, without a sound and without a word. And in the end I began to regret that I had washed my hands before touching their dishes. If I was dirty enough, the Captain would at least yell at me. Damn, I thought, I'm not a servant for these newlyweds! I wasn't born to be a servant or a timid labourer, or any creature humbly working for his daily bread, I'm not somebody to stand in the shadow cap-in-hand!
So I've dropped the tray for a beginning. And what did I get? A merciful glance from lady Rose and a brief, gruff 'get out' from the Captain. And what could I do? I got out and learned from Sharpe that I'm to keep the last dog watch; and then I was called back by the Captain to take the dishes to the galleys. That was all.
The next morning - this morning - proved to be more interesting. Lady Rose was a little bit pale, it seemed she didn't bear sea voyage well. The Captain was casting her anxious glances throughout breakfast. She almost didn't eat, her long white fingers were playing with a small piece of bread; she had her eyes fixed on the table cape and was silent for most of the time. I saw charts prepared already on the little table under the window. Yes, lady, he doesn't have time to be with you all day round; he's a captain and he has his tasks to fulfill, I thought looking at lady Rose's golden head, leaned tiredly on one side, and her nervous fingers on the bread.
I sighed to myself, waiting patiently for her to finish eating. I'm not allowed to eat myself before I finish serving the Captain and cleaning the cabin. I've never found it difficult to bear, because the Captain is always very fast with eating, but I was beginning to lose my patience with lady Rose sitting sickly at the table. I sighed again, and then caught Captain's look.
Narrowed green eyes. He wasn't in a good mood, apparently not accustomed to his lady being silent and mopish like that. Or was it just a humble presence of mine? Maybe both... and I was looking annoyingly well, compared to lady Rose. I'm not that delicate and I don't care if I'm on land or at sea. I'm a better companion, am I not, Captain?...
But as much as I previously wanted him to notice me, he scared me this time. He looked really irritated and I felt that he's only waiting for me to give him an excuse, and he'd be delighted to wreak his anger on me. I sensed that it's not safe to provoke him and lowered my eyes quickly, but not quickly enough.
"Don't pretend yer awake, ye lazy cad!" he snapped at me. "Move yerself, clean the cabin. Ye can take the dishes after. Yer not here to finish yer night sleep!"
I smiled to myself and went to open and clean the windows. It was a truly unpleasant, cloudy morning: the sea and the sky both had the colour of steel, and the ship was being rocked rather heavily. The Captain was waiting for lady Rose to finish, but had to come out of the cabin when Sharpe called him. I went to clean the bed, and in this moment lady Rose turned to me and said in a subdued voice:
"No, Ritchie, don't touch it. I will do this. Go and clean that window - " she pointed to the window on the other end of the cabin.
Those were the first words she spoke to me that morning.
I glanced over at the cursed bed. What is that? First the Captain forbids me to sit on it, then she is forbidding me even to touch it. Is it sacred or what? Did they make an altar out of it? Would I defile it? Well, lady, then you'd better run away from the chair you are sitting in, for your lover did - oh - order me to kneel on it once when he was taking me.
"That window has been cleaned already," I said innocently. It was a lie, but what the heck.
"It may have been cleaned," she said sharply, "but it is not clean. Leave the bed alone and go and clean the window."
"As you wish," I said and went to the window.
The Captain came back to the cabin and frowned at lady Rose still seated by the table. She saw this frown and sighed quietly.
"I've almost finished," she said. "Where is water? I'd like to wash my hands."
I opened the window making as much noise as possible.
"Ritchie?... I'd like to have some water."
"It's very close to you, m'lady," I said. "I'm cleaning the window and my hands are dirty."
She pressed her long fingers to her temples for a brief moment, then stood up and went around the table to take the water. The Captain glanced at us from over his charts, and I felt rather than saw his little cruel smile.
Lady Rose washed her fingers in a small bowl and then sat back in her chair without a word. I cast her a look over my shoulder and saw that she is watching me, openly and mockingly.
"It's true you... your hands are very dirty," she said with a little sigh, when I couldn't pretend anymore that I'm cleaning the window and went to the table. "But I cannot see the difference... they were the same before breakfast."
"We don't have water enough to spare on the likes of me," I said. "And working people don't wash as often as ladies do. Begging your pardon, m'lady, can I take the dishes back?..."
She blushed and the Captain, who left his charts and was going to go out of the cabin, probably to talk to Sharpe again, stopped next to me.
"Yer to wait here until lady Rose leaves the table," he said threateningly. "She hasn't finished her breakfast yet."
"Right," I murmured. "Maybe I could help her."
"What did ye say?..."
"Nothing, Captain," I said taking a step back, just in case.
"Oh, good. Ye'd better watch yer tongue."
"What a gloomy morning," said lady Rose in a conversational tone, when the Captain left the cabin finally. "To tell the truth, I don't feel like finishing my breakfast. Are you hungry, Ritchie?"
What's wrong with these two? They seem to think in the same way.
"No, I'm not hungry."
"Really?" she said, raising her brows. And my stupid stomach betrays me as usual.
"Oh look, you ARE hungry! Sit here and eat something."
Aha, you want the Captain to kill me when he's back and sees that I'm sitting and eating with his ladylove?
"No, thank you, m'lady, you're too kind," I said. "I may be hungry, but I'm not after your leftovers."
"You don't sound very believable, Ritchie," she said with a little smile. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. You're less reluctant in helping yourself when I'm not here, I presume."
"Well, I'm doing my best, m'lady, thank you," I said. "But still, I'd rather take these dishes back to the galleys and have my meal there."
"Are you afraid of the Captain?" she said with an understanding smile, crooking her head a little.
"Why should I be afraid of him?" I asked with a sudden feeling of humiliation.
"I can soften him, don't worry. He's a bit too harsh with you."
"No, he's not, m'lady. It's the way things are. And I'm no girl and don't need to be treated as such."
"But you can play a girl very well," she said without a smile.
"Can I take the bloody dishes to the galleys?" I asked loudly.
"Not before I rip yer foul tongue out."
We didn't notice the Captain. He was standing at the door - and evidently heard my last words. But I was so embittered that I didn't even move when he took me by the collar and dashed me against a wall.
"What did I tell ye, ye stinky little bastard? I told ye to wait for lady Rose to finish her breakfast, an' yer bein' saucy when ye think that I don't hear ye! An' ye didn't even clean the bed?!..."
Lady Rose, who was sitting horrified for awhile, started up from her chair, run around the table and caught his hand in her two little hands.
"Please, Captain, stop it!" she shouted. "It's not..."
"Go away an' sit there," he said coldly. "You are a guest on my ship an' nobody is goin' to forget it."
"But Captain, the bed... it's not Ritchie's fault! It's me... I've told him to leave it to me." She shook her golden head sadly. "It's an awful, awful day. I know this cabin is too little for us two and it's a huge inconvenience for you to have me here all the time... and this ship rocking makes me sick..."
He sighed, smiled and let me go, then took lady Rose's hands in his.
"An' what else will ye say, my poor lil' lady Rose? I know yer sea-sick, I know. We will be at St. Thomas in no time. Two, three days more. I'd like to have ye here as long as ye want, but it seems yer not destined to live on sea. It pains me to see yer sufferin' like that, an' ye shouldn't suffer any more. An' don't defend him, he's not worth it."
He glared over at me - I was trying to staunch blood from my nose and answered him with a look of an oppressed innocence.
"But it was me who told him not to clean the bed," said lady Rose in a small voice. He made an impatient move, but she didn't let him go. "And... please, do forgive him, Captain. It's... he's hungry, that's why..."
It didn't help me, of course.
"He's always hungry, he should have it beaten out of his head!"
"No, please don't, Captain," said lady Rose blushing and barring his way. It was delightful to watch her, she looked very sweet; I smiled with my hand under my nose. "Please, my head is aching so much already."
The Captain sighed.
"Ah, my lady Rose," he said, "ye have a headache, he's bleedin', I feel like in a nursery. Go an' try to sleep, 'tis the only advice I can give ye. An' yer to apologize an' thank lady Rose for pleadin' for ye."
"I apologize, m'lady, please forgive me," I said lowering my head. "I said too much. I'm sorry, I should have clean the bed first, as you told me."
She widened her eyes. The Captain laughed.
"Ye lied to save his skin? Yer too nice for him. Next time ye don't clean the bed, Ritchie, ye go without eatin' all day. An' now take the dishes an' get outta here."
Now I am laughing to myself, recalling the furious look she gave me. She was immensely angry that I didn't want her pity. Well, I don't need it. I don't need her to defend me. The more pity she is feeling for me, the more humiliation I feel. What have I ever done to her to be pitied like that? It bloody hurts.
She didn't speak a word to me after that breakfast and finished her dinner and supper very quickly. She was apparently not well and spent all day in bed; the Captain tried to cheer her up and told her that tomorrow weather is likely to be good. She smiled painfully, not very convinced. Finally I felt sorry for her and was going to propose bringing little Sancha over here (who was very bored under the deck, trying to play cards with Betsy, the cook and the rest of lady Rose's court), but the Captain told me to shut up in the moment when I opened my mouth, and threw me hurriedly out of the cabin.
The wind has calmed down and the waves don't rock the ship so much anymore, and some shy stars have shown up in the sky. I'm playing with little Tarry, waiting for Sharpe to change me. Two days. Two days more and we land on St. Thomas. And then what? We probably stay there to careen the ship and to settle up lady Rose's household - buy some estate, maybe. And all the crew must have their turn of drink and debauchery. Let's say, a week?... I just should patiently wait and then I will be alone with the Captain again.
"Only a week!..." I say to Tarry. She meows. And all of a sudden I hear a muffled giggle from the cabin. I strain my ears. It seems that lady Rose has recovered from her all-day illness. Oh, it's not just a giggle; she is laughing and talking rather loudly, and her voice is clear and strong. She pauses from time to time, but I can't hear the Captain. Gosh, it's late. They should go to sleep. Or wait, are they...
In the next moment I'm glued to the wooden wall of the cabin. I still have some time of my watch left; and I deserve amusement today. Oh no, Captain Barbossa, you will not get rid of me so easily. You can spend some time with your beloved lady, but she will go away, and I am here because of you, for you and with you.
"But Captain, I DO feel better. So much better! I can't believe I was so ill today... oh, I was such a nuisance! I haven't spent such an empty day for years. By God, Coles and Prescotts own me for this!"
"Aye, they own ye indeed, my lady Rose. But ye still look pale. Ye'd better..."
"No, no, no, Captain. I must requite you... please, give me your hand... here." Her sweet voice becomes mischievous again; she laughs quietly and the Captain laughs with her. "Ahh... you see? My face may be pale... but here, look..."
There is silence for awhile, and then -
"... here is the rose that is fresh and moist and sweet. Or... do you... think otherwise?..."
He answers her in a very, very quiet and amused voice, but I cannot hear him. What is he doing to her?... A rose?... A ros... ah, wait!...
"Or am I making a nuisance of myself now, Captain?..."
"I wish ye be such a nuisance as long as ye like... Now come here, lil' skittish lady."
'Come here'? But where is she now? I hear the rustle of her satin dress. She was very close to me, then. Oh, please, just a small chink for me!... But I can't find anything and soon have to resort only to listening.
First it's mainly lady Rose's voice. She is laughing with a deep, guttural laugh, and she sounds happy and contented like a turtledove in the sun; sometimes her laugh stops and I can hear her pant. He is talking to her, I recognize his voice full of that strange warmth, but I don't understand his words; they soon become muffled and I imagine him burying his face in lady Rose's golden hair. And then there comes lady Rose's first "aaah", almost sung in full voice, prolonged and clear.
Her voice is beautiful indeed, there is a melody in her lovemaking, as if she were playing and singing - playing an instrument that is her man, singing out her inner tune. Is he just listening to her? I cannot hear him, and I guess that it's not their first time today, because there is no haste, no thirst in them. Where are they?... The bed is there, but they are not in bed. The table?... Ah, I see - it's the chair.
Yes, it's the very chair lady Rose was sitting in today, the chair that the Captain and me had once been using. Now I can imagine her... no, I can imagine him in the embrace of her long legs and delicate hands. She didn't take her dress off, it's covering his breeches and boots; he's kissing her rosy face, her white neck, her breasts and her round knees that are so close to his lips. He doesn not need to move, he is watching her move. He is looking at her, kissing her, touching her, talking to her... He loves her. I know it already.
And then she stops laughing and her voice rises as if in a bewilderment, and I hear one sharp cry; then there is silence and only after awhile I recognize Captain's voice - he is calling her name.
Ah, it's only now that he comes. She is first. She is more important than him, it must be her who is to be satisfied and not him. He is thinking of her pleasure. I haven't ever imagined he can let the other come first. Ah, so this is how it should be with him. And what are they doing now?... I cannot hear a sound. They must sit together, exhausted, sleepy and happy. Ah, so this is how it should be... He doesn't thrust her away, he doesn't leave her in a hurry, he doesn't want to be alone soon after he reaches his satisfaction. He wants to feel her still.
"Mmm?..."
"Tomorrow... do you think it will be better?"
"Ye mean, the weather? It'll be splendid."
"How do you know?"
"I've been living at sea long before ye knew what sea is, lil' lady."
"Uhm... I was mean today... to your cabin boy. Poor thing! I just wanted to tease him, but it turned out badly..."
He murmurs something and I can say that it's not a pleasant subject to him... or to me, for that matter. Why should I make my appearance in their bed talk?
"No, how can you?... It's me who should apologize, in fact. I was telling the truth with the bed. I didn't want him to touch it, I don't know why." She laughs. "Or maybe I do."
The Captain chuckles.
"So it's him who was lyin'? Why?"
"Oh, I can see he's furious, because he thinks that I pity him, and he doesn't want my pity."
"Why should ye pity him?" I can imagine the Captain frown.
"Because he is defenceless..."
Me? Defenceless? Oh, wait, lady...
"... or at least he looks like that. But it's a pleasure to fence with him - he always picks up the glove."
Now it's better. But...
"Aye, he's way too shrewd for his own good."
"But you do like him, Captain, don't you?"
"Ah, my lady Rose," there is a trace of irritation in Captain's voice, "there's many more pleasant things to talk about... nearly everything."
"Captain, you do not need to pretend. Can't you see that Ritchie is in love with you?"
What the hell?!... Where has that ridiculous idea come from? What does she know of me and why does she care? I'm no girl, lady Rose, I'm not a threat to you; I'm not in love, and the most important thing is that your Captain is not in love with me - can you please leave me alone?
"Ah, me lil' lady, what are ye talkin' about in the middle of the night?..."
And he bursts into laughter.
"Captain Barbossa, I am not blind. He's watching you all the time. He'd do anything only to be close to you, can't you see that?"
"Look, lady Rose," he says sharply, "he has no reason to... there is no... ah, bollocks. Let's go to sleep."
"Captain, please, look at me."
There is a long silence and finally the Captain laughs again.
"Alright. I believe ye, lil' lady. What do ye want me to do with Ritchie, then?"
"What would you do with him?" she asks searchingly.
"What, d'ye want me to kill him?"
"Would you?..." she whispers. "How?"
My hands are becoming cold.
"If ye want, I can shoot him in the morning." The Captain's voice is a little bit too jaunty.
"Can you really?..."
"I am the captain here."
"Will you kill Ritchie Brown tomorrow then, Captain?"
I hold my breath, but the thumping of my heart doesn't allow me to hear what is going on in the cabin. For the Captain doesn't say anything; there is a brief silence - maybe he kissed her, maybe he touched her cheek - and then he laughs shortly, as if embarrassed.
She chuckles inexpectedly.
"Is that a 'no'?"
"Ah, yer a stubborn little lady. If ye insist..."
"Sure I do. And then please kill all your crew, and we will sail together in search of Utopia. Only two of us."
They are laughing now. So it was only a test? What is it with these two? Why do they like to play with others so much? Ah, it was a pleasant alteration to see the Captain being examined... but he was right, uh, it wasn't a nice subject at all.
The next morning is truly beautiful, the sea calm, the wind friendly. Lady Rose smiles to me, when I'm serving her, but I'm doing my best trying not to look at her and playing a modest and discreet servant that is not to be seen nor heard. I want her to forget about me. Her yesterday words might have been nothing more than some half-joke, the Captain may have been unwilling to get rid of me, but I'd rather be off lady Rose's way.
She is a little bit dismayed by my seriousness and gives me an inquiring glance. I don't answer, of course, and when I'm on my way out of the cabin, she stops me.
"Wait, Ritchie, I have something for you."
I blink. Something for me?
She takes my sleeve rather unceremoniously and places something in my hand. Lute strings!
"I almost forgot," she says with a laugh.
"Change the strings now," says the Captain with a generous nod. "We don't have musicians except ye an' Squall. An' a pirate vessel without music is an unsuccesful one."
"Aye, Captain," I say happily and flee out of the cabin. I've forgotten the lute. It's not such an excellent thing like the one that lady Rose has just received from the Captain, but it still can do. And when I have an instrument to play, I cannot grieve much, I cannot even think of myself. I'm away.
"Hey, Squall, mate," I shout to him, "we're going to make a little consort from now on. Take the drum. And remember, the first day we're on land, we have to find somebody who can play fiddle, and lure him onto the ship, alright?"
"Ye mean, when we land on St. Thomas?"
"Ah, anywhere, mate. Just remember it."
It takes me some time to replace the strings, but the work is finally over, and I try the first loose accords. It's been a long time since I was allowed to play something at my free will - if not to count the duel between lady Rose and me - and now I have to keep away all my favourite melodies and songs that start to hum around my head, demanding that I play them. Oh well, I'm just trying the new strings, I can do anything I please. I give up and let the melodies take over - my hand taps the lute box lightly, picking up a lascivious Andalusian tune. Squall widens his eyes when I start to sing - I cannot speak Arabic, but I know some songs in it. Ah, let's sing about the night of passion - this poem was written by Princess Walladah when she was still in love.
"Hey, mate, what's this?" exclaims Squall. He's delighted, his eyes are shining. I've underestimated him; the fellow knows what is good in music.
"Nice song, isn't it?"
"Mate, 'twas very good, but... um... what was it?"
"An Andalusian song. I've learnt it when was in Istanbul... it's a long story."
"Ye mean it's what... Arabic? Never heard nothin' like that. What was it about?"
""Expect me when night falls,
For the night is the best for hiding our secrets,
If the stars could feel my passion for you,
They would not go for their night journey,
The sun would not shine, the moon would not rise.'"
"Ah, this is good, mate!"
"You think? It's easy to learn," I say. Squall gulps. Ah, the playful, sweet, cheerful nahawand mode, it's really easy to fall in love with you.
"D-do you know more of these?"
"Ah, sure. Listen, try to catch the rhythm, alright?"
"Must listen to more, an' I can try then."
Some of the pirates are gathering shyly around us. They seem to like it. Oh, good, maybe I can count on them when we need a new musician. I smile; the sun has risen for me, the previous night seems to be so far away.
"This one is 'bout loooove too, you know."
"I'd prefer some with love," says Squall. Whee, it seems he met a nice girl in La Rosa Sin Espina. Too bad that he cannot see her again.
"What about the rhythm?"
"Sing some more, I'll see."
The door of the Captain's cabin open - it's lady Rose. She doesn't go out, her silhouette in the light cloud of laces and ribbons is barely visible in the darkness, yet strangely familiar and clear to me. The Captain doesn't let her leave the cabin when the people are close, he doesn't want to show them that they are in a beautiful woman's presence. I smile again. Ah, music is a blessed thing, an irresistible decoy to all creatures.
"This one is about love too, mate," I say. "And about wine. And roses."
'So many times I asked my gazelle for wine,
And she offered me wine and roses as well,
And I spent the night licking the wine from her lips
And gathering roses from her cheeks.'
I can see that not only the pirates and lady Rose is listening to me. The Captain is standing by the door, with his arms crossed as usual, with his eyes narrowed. He's looking somewhere else past me, apparently relaxed and thinking about something pleasant. Well, he's awaiting at least one nice week on St. Thomas, with lady Rose and all delights she can give him. He's happy and sated, as is she... I look slyly at her light blue dress. I knew I saw it somewhere: it's one of the dresses my dona Ursula was wearing.
Oh no, no more nice songs in the nahawand mode and language that you can't understand.
"Hey, Squall, let's try a more familiar tune. I'll teach you Andalusian music later."
"Alright," says Squall blinking.
"Do you know 'En la fuente del rosel'?"
"The Spanish song?"
"Aye, about a boy and a girl."
Hah, it's a funny song, isn't it, Captain? A boy and a girl are washing in the rose bush, they are washing their faces in a very strange manner - 'el a ella y ella a el', he is washing hers and she his...
The men around us are laughing and lady Rose turns her back to us. Oh well, I can sing another one, maybe that one about beautiful Isabel that lost her girdle, or that one about little sister Teresa. Pity there's no roses in that song.
"Do you know this one, Squall?"
'Ah, sweet sister Teresa, I'd like only to spend one night with you, just one night...' 'I'd be very pleased to spend one night with you, but I'm so much afraid of getting pregnant,' she says. But why can't her mother find little Teresa in the night?...
The men roar with laughter, but the Captain is not very pleased. It seems that they just tried to find themselves something to do near the cabin only to hear us play. And the songs are a little bit too funny for the Captain's lady's liking... I hope.
"What are ye all doin' here in this time of day, ye lazy dogs! There's no time to listen to the music! An' ye two, enough for today. Be off to work, now!"
Squall is very interested in learning new things and is asking me many questions about Ottoman Empire and Spain, when we're as always scrubbing the deck. I'm answering in monosyllables, waiting for the night to come. I want to see the Captain and his lady, not only to hear them. I've managed to make a nice split in the wall with my knife, and I will watch them or my name isn't Ritchie Brown.
But there comes the first blow. Sharpe tells me that things changed and it's Bleeding Hand, not me, who is to keep the watch tonight - Captain's orders. I don't protest. How could I? I don't say anything even when I hear that I'm not going to keep the watch in the next day either.
And then, when we land on St. Thomas, comes the second blow. I am to stay on the ship. I'm not allowed to go anywhere; I have to help with the careening and then I am to keep the watch - every night. I'm not to place my feet on land except during the careening.
I couldn't believe my own ears when Sharpe told me that. Some of us were already walking down the trap, and the beautiful port of Charlotte Amalie was calling us in thousands of voices - but Sharpe stopped me with his hand on my chest.
"I'm not to go anywhere? I can't even spend my money? What's that, for Christ's sake?"
"Christ or not, yer to stay onboard. Captain's orders."
"But he didn't say..."
Sharpe smiled with delight and looked at his hands big as shovels. He was in his best, devilishly genial mood today; were it a usual day at sea, I'd have new bruises already.
"Ye see, Ritchie," he said, "the Captain doesn't need to communicate his will to ye. First, yer to listen to ev'rybody that's older than ye, even to Squall, ye know that. Second, it's me who's the second-in-command here. Understood? Or d'ye want me to explain it with me hands?"
"No, 'tis no necessary," I said.
"An' the Captain said that if ye really want to go ashore, ye may go. But don't come back."
"Wh-what do you mean?"
"What I said. Yer to listen to orders or yer free to go away, as long as we are on land. Simple."
"Alright," I said. "I'm staying."
What could I do? There is no place for me to go. It's true, I'm not a pirate yet, I could leave La Aranha now, when we're staying in the peaceful harbour. Most good folks would do this. I'm free, I haven't done anything that would make me an outlaw, there's no bounty on my head, nobody knows me here. I could try to go to work... go into service even. I can read and write, maybe I'd be of use. I could stay here, work, earn some money, live peacefully, find myself a girl, marry, have children and die a good death...
I look upon the night sky, listening to the night noises of the harbour going slowly to sleep. It's warm and the island is breathing in a sweet, lazy breath. Many days have gone from the moment when Sharpe has stopped me, and I haven't been ashore, if not to count the careening. Do I really want to see this little sleepy town? I've been thinking about leaving La Aranha every day, but I know I cannot do this. I don't care a damn for a good work, good life, good family, less of all for a good death. It's not for me, I've never believed in things like this. I've always found good, decent folks much more stupid and vile than I thought. They have to move, pray, love and kill in flock, or they languish from anxiety that there is something wrong with them - and this is why they have to think in flock too. And this is why they are easy to prey.
I'd rather be with the Captain than with good folks, how could have he thought that I'd prefer to stay among the flock? Who would follow the flock when he can follow the Captain? And I am already a part of the crew; the work is not so hard, I can learn how to fight, and if I'm lucky, I may gain some money too. And the Captain cannot be left alone, with nobody to talk to except all these plain fellows of his crew. I can write and read and play and sing, and some more things - I will prove myself useful anyway.
For the remaining days on St. Thomas I am silent and obedient. I'm not seeing the Captain much, he spends most of his time on land, helping lady Rose to settle. He's returning to the ship very rarely and doesn't talk to me much. I don't start any conversation, I don't ask anything, I just do what I am told and wait. The Captain is not noticing me at all - because I just bring him food and clean his cabin silently, making myself as little noticeable as I can. I keep the night watches strictly, I work at day and when I'm free, I beguile the time teaching Squall to play drum in nahawand mode (Squall was granted three days on land, to my surprise). And I am patiently waiting for our stay to come to an end.
The day before leaving the Captain is already on the ship from the afternoon, and I'm to keep the middle watch, from the midnight to four in the morning. It was the same yesterday, I've got accustomed to night watches and I no longer have to fight sleepiness. I lean on the handrails, looking at the town that I have to leave before visiting. I wonder if I can see it again. I will remember only the strange smell of the port, the smell of jasmine, fresh wood and dead fish; and the blessed taste of fruits I've never eaten before - papaya, guava, the wonderful sugar apple, then bananas and pineapples, and my favourite fruit called summer mango that has something of both banana and pineapple with the touch of apricot in it. I've eaten the tannia root soup and a funny fried bread called Johnny-cakes, and a very good pastry filled with saltfish, and I've had something that tastes like beer with soap and is called 'maubi', but it's fruits I'll remember most fondly... now where I know that there will be nothing to eat but scanty rations of salted meat, hard-tack and occassionally fish, I start to feel something like regret. The place seems a paradise on earth. I could find myself a nice nest here to live.
When we were resting during the careening of the ship, I saw a very strange little creature - it looked like a dragon that hunts after virgins and kills brave knights, only that it was rather tiny - and Squall told me it's called 'iguana' and loves to eat those red hibiscus flowers. I went to find the flowers and lo, the creature wasn't afraid to come to me and eat from my hand. If it is so trustful, it means that really peaceful folks live here; it may be easier to live here than I suppose. And maybe I should stay here - maybe I should leave these stupid 'brothers' of mine, who started to whisper something about devil again when they saw me feeding the poor creature with beautiful hibiscus flowers. Maybe I should stay. The Captain doesn't care for me anyway.
I look at the cabin's closed door. Why didn't he order me to stay there tonight? We're leaving in the morning, I should be in the cabin when he needs me. Did he forget that I'm his cabin boy? Or does he want to be alone this last night in the St. Thomas? I wonder what he is doing at this time of the night - the candles in his cabin are still lit. It's dangerous. He was so busy today, supervising the men who were stocking the ship with food and water supplies; maybe he fell asleep at the table. I'd better take a look if everything is alright.
But before I grab the door knob, I hear a soft whimper. It's not the Captain's voice. It's lady Rose's. Do I have hallucinations? I didn't see lady Rose today. How is it possible that she is onboard?
I find the split in the wall I had made before. No, it was not an illusion. In the middle of the dimly lit cabin, on the Captain's bed, sits lady Rose, so vivid and shining in the bright satin dress, with the laced mantilla that was obviously hiding her head, but now is covering her arms. She sits with her back to me, but I can tell that it's her voice I've just heard; she is crying, crying against her will.
I've never seen her other than smilling, laughing or furious, and now I feel as if the world were going to end. What happened? Why is she so unhappy and miserable that she must resort to crying? A quarrel? Or does the Captain want to leave her? No, it would be too hideous and cruel to desert her like that, just after all that fear she must have felt when she was made to flee Antigua. She needs solace and comfort now...
Oh, but she is finding solace and comfort here - her face is now taken in two strong hands, and her whimpers become muffled in the Captain's generous embrace. I nearly chuckle now, because it seems that she is sitting on his lap, and he had to move her away so that he could sit too. He's ruffling her golden hair with a forbearing smile, as he would do to a child - and she looks like a little girl in his embrace. It's the first time when I see them in each other's arms, and only now I realize that lady Rose is much more younger than the Captain. She can be twenty-four or twenty-five, and the Captain is probably ten years older. She always looked equally noble and calm when with him, and it's why I thought her to be of the same age - but now when I see her in sadness and despair, I understand how fragile and vulnerable she is.
Finally she stops sobbing and whispers something in a small voice.
"Aye, lil' lady, and sorry ye should be," says the Captain. "Bad habits ye have an' ye do nothin' to get rid of 'em. Yer havin' forebodin' of evil every time I leave, an' yer bein' proved wrong every time I go back. Will ye grow up till next time?"
"I can't promise," she protests a little bit defiantly. "How could I not worry about you when I know what you risk?"
"I risk nothin'."
"You risk your life, Captain, the only thing that is yours and that I want to make mine forever. You are risking your neck every day I am not with you! You are like a little boy when his mommy isn't watching..."
He bursts into laughter.
"Aye, I do resemble a lil' boy when I'm with ye. It's not good, not at all. I have to go to sea for awhile, just to remind myself that I'm a man."
"I don't need gifts, I don't need money, I don't need clothes and dresses and jewels, I don't need anything..."
"Ye don't?..."
"Oh well... not so much!..." she laughs. "Don't let my greed dim your reason. Don't attack bigger vessels because you want to give me more. Don't... oh no, I can't think..."
She shakes her head. He places his hands on her tiny shoulders.
"Rose," he whispers, "Rose, look at me."
She becomes quiet, he touches her cheek.
"Yer not allowed to doubt in me. I need ye laughin' into the face of the world and thinkin' that I'm laughin' with ye. I'm comin' back every time an' I will come back now. There's nothin' that would stop me in me way to ye. Be I cursed, be I damned - I will always find me way to ye."
She slowly, as in a dream, reaches out her hand and touches his cheek in reply; then she touches his lips, and even more slowly draws herself closer - now she's blocking out my view and I can't see the Captain's face; but I can see his hands that embrace her head and start pulling out her hairpins. Lady Rose doesn't wait, she wriggles her way out of the dress, tearing ribbons and murmuring a little 'damn' from time to time.
Something very reasonable inside of me tells me that I should go away; it tells me that I should be jealous. But I shake my head and stay - my admiration for these two is much more greater than my little poor hurt feelings. I want to see them together, in fact, I want to see the Captain's face when he is coming again - it was only once I could see him like that. And for I know all too well that he will never be with me as he is now with lady Rose, I want at least see what I am missing.
The dress is so complicated to take off that lady Rose had to abandon her intention of undressing, at least for awhile; she's clinging to the Captain half-naked, with her pearly white shoulders wrapped around him. He's kissing her breasts and hands and elbows and neck and arms, he cannot tear himself away, and she is trembling a soft constant tremble. The candles around the cabin shrink, but lady Rose seems to gather all their lights into her; her golden head glitters, her lustrous dress shines, and she starts to laugh quietly, when he bows over to take her little right foot in his hand to place her long leg in a white silk stocking around his waist.
"No, wait," she says. "I want to be free."
And she stands on the bed between his legs, so that the folds of the dress cover Captain's chests and hands. He doesn't want to let her go, so he reaches out and holds her hips under the dress. She shakes her head again, laughing, and the hairpins that were still left in her hair fall out on the cabin's wooden floor. Lady Rose is fighting with the dress and finally she takes over; she steps out of it and kicks it out of the bed. I hold my breath: she is naked, without any underwear. It's been awhile since I've seen a naked woman, and her skin is so clean and glossy that it blinds me for a moment. And the Captain looks like he is blinded too; he narrows his eyes with a smile. Lady Rose stands on one leg and takes one stocking off, then another - and then she starts to lower herself down. I blink: I was so enchanted by her that I didn't notice that the Captain was half-naked from the beginning. Oh, and not only half-naked he was - he was ready all the time also.
He rises up a little to look at her, maybe to guide her, but she takes his hands and places them in her hips again, embracing his hips with her thights in turn, and leaning over so that she can touch his lips with hers, she starts to move. Slowly, patiently she finds her rhythm on him, and then she abruptly straightens her bright, lean body up, gaining speed as if she wanted to fly away and only his hands on her thights were stopping her. He is holding her firmly, pressing her legs and buttocks to him and diving deeper and deeper into her. She bows her head from time to time to place a haste, light kiss on his forehead or cheek or lips, and straightens up again, with the flowing mane over and around her fierce head - and they look like a ship in full speed, sailing towards a dark ocean with a defiantly glittering golden sail.
She is moaning with that soft deep voice of hers, and the Captain rises up towards her again and embraces her greedily, taking her wild head into the warm crook of his arm, and she cries helplessly leaning herself suddenly on him. He is holding and rocking her proudly, stroking her wet, shuddering back. She embraces his shoulders in reply and they are sitting motionlessly for a long, long while, until she finally rises up and lets him go.
But then she suddenly whispers:
"Oh, love, love, why did you let me come?"
"'Tis nothin', lil' lady. Let's go to sleep."
"Oh no, love, this is not right! How can I leave you like this? You make me flying with delight and you are denying yourself pleasure?"
"Who told ye I'm denyin' myself anything, silly? It's because I'm lookin' at ye, an' I'm goin' to look at ye even when ye sleep tonight."
He sits up, but she kneels by his side and pulls him closer, holding his hand. I cannot see him...
"I will not have it, Captain, I'm not going to leave you unsatisfied."
"Yer not leavin' me unsatisfied. 'Tis not necessary for me to be satisfied, my lil' lady. I'm not a small boy that must spill his seed to be happy. Lie down, please."
She stops him again.
"Let me," she says simply, wrapping her delicate hands around his hips and lowering her head.
I feel my eyes widen and my breath hold. I would never think of lady Rose's sweet red lips touching the Captain's erect cock. I have never seen a woman doing this to a man. I've heard that it's popular among the French, but well, there are so many things that people say about French love and I don't believe them a bit since I've met French girls more than once. I've met English, Spanish and Italian girls as well, and it's impossible to buy that favour from them for a reasonable amount of money. No unfortunate, even the low of the lowest, would take a cock into her mouth so lightly and casually as lady Rose is going to do. Many men may have a fancy to make their lover do that for them, but no self-respecting woman would gratify that fancy. And I can see that the Captain is surprised even more than me - surprised and moved so deeply that he cannot accept it.
"Rose, my treasure," he says raising her up, "no, I won't have it now."
"Please."
"No, I want it, but not here," he says, his tender look on her blushing face. "For this night, yer generosity is enough for me. We do not need to hurry. We have more nights before us than ye think, impatient lil' lady. Or ye don't believe I will be back to ye?"
"Oh, n-no..."
"Good. I will be back faster than ye can imagine, just to have this gift from ye. Ye keep it for me. An' now go to sleep."
His eyes - they are blue, I think now, not green - are fixed on her and it's clear that her eagerness stirred some hidden feelings in him. It's hard, very hard to him to restrain himself, and if she insisted, he wouldn't have much more to say. But I can see that it cost her dearly to offer it to him, and her little ears redden wildly, even her neck and arms are deep pink. She doesn't say anything, just clings to him, and he embraces her in silence, and with this sight before my eyes - his long fingers on her bare back, glittering with sweat - I leave my watching place; it's time that Paco should take his post from me.
I cannot sleep, I stay with him instead of going under the deck. It's dawn already, the harbour is awake and the sea breeze freshens my feverish face. Wherever I look - the greenish sea, the rosy sky, the white and red buildings of Charlotte Amalie - I see my Captain and his lady making love. Ah, I want to be here when lady Rose leaves the ship. I want to see her stay ashore when we turn her little town to our rudder. I want to be sure that she won't hide somewhere in the cabin again.
She comes out, finally. It seems that she came when Squall was on watch, because she smiles to him, and he answers with a broad happy smile - he must have get a gold coin from her again. She says farewell to some of us - the rest is busying themselves with the last preparations for leaving - looks at me briefly, I lower modestly my eyes - then takes Captain's hand and lets him lead her ashore, where Betsy and the cook are waiting for her already. The Captain kisses her hand ceremoniously, she curtseys. No tears, no despair. Her face is clear and calm, only a little bit paler and thinned. She left all her fears and sorrows away, now she is herself, the brave lady Rose, again. And I sigh with a strange feeling of relief. She should be always like this, or the Captain might give up his trade for her someday.
"Hey, Ritchie, what are ye doin', man?" shouts Pete-Smallpox. "Run to the galleys fer the Captain's breakfast! An' watch out fer yerself today, alright?"
"What do you mean?"
"Ah, don't be dumb, mate. Poor old devil will be out o'sorts all day. He's just left his lady, mind. Keep a low profile, it's me good advice to ye."
But I don't care for his good advices. I can be alone with the Captain at last and it makes me dizzy with joy. I'm not afraid of him; if he wants to find vent for his irritation, well, here I am. He will need me anyway, some day or other.
But he's busy with his charts and just orders me grudgingly to leave tray under the window and be off.
"Should I clean the cabin, Captain?" I ask innocently, looking at lady Rose's hairpins scattered on the floor.
"I told ye to be off!" he shouts.
"Oh God, aye, Captain," I murmur and run away.
And it happens that I'm running to and fro all day round, because even Sharpe is not very willing to go to the Captain's cabin to ask for orders, and he prefers to send me instead. Generally, everybody is relieved to see that I'm still in one piece when emerging from the cabin. But at last I start to doubt my luck when the Captain yells at me that I should be fed to the sharks for not cleaning the cabin.
"But Captain, it's you who told me that I'm to leave it like this... I'm innocent, I swear!..."
"Ye weren't innocent even in yer mother's womb, ye lazy brat!... Yer to shut up an' listen, not to talk back, or ye'll be keepin' watch all night!"
"Aha, he's got crossed finally," says Squall with a wicked smile, when I fly out of the cabin.
"No reason to grin, stupid," I say wincing. "Go and try to please him yourself. It's like he's eaten only pepper today or something."
"Shhh, shut up, ye idiot," says Squall and runs away from the cabin door. Sure, now everybody is leaving me with this demon of a captain.
But when I have a free moment, I just stay by the railing and look at the sea. It's strange how it calms me and gives me a feeling of certainty that everything is as it's meant to be. I've never had feeling like this before, I don't know the sea, I don't know where I am or where I am going, I don't have an aim, I've almost forgotten my past and I don't care for my future; could I say that I am happy?
And when the evening comes, I bring the Captain his meal and wait with my heart beating wildly for his orders. It's been a long time since he told me to sleep here, I almost can't remember it. I'm leaning on the door, not sure what to do.
"What are ye lookin' at?" the Captain asks me. "Don't tell me yer hungry again."
"No, I'm not, Captain."
"So where's yer blanket, stupid? Forgot that yer workin' here, or got tired of yer service already? Jus' tell me in case ye changed yer mind. If I have ye thrown overboard, ye still might reach the shore pretty quickly."
"No, I'm going for the blanket right now," I say quietly, trying to hide my joy.
When I'm back, he tells me to make the bed and clean the table, leaving only the bottle of wine. Ah, he's feeling lonely, he's so lonely that he's going to drink alone. I feel my heart bleed for him. Again a long journey among the dirty gobs talking in hoarse voices, helpless without him and fearing him; and again, danger is all that awaits him. He promised his lady to be back, but he has another lady by his side, and I know her, because I have my own too - Lady Death is her name.
"Can I pour you more wine, Captain?"
He moves his bowl closer without a word. He pretends that he is just finishing his supper, but his severe, tired face and his distant gaze tell me otherwise. Ah, what can I do for you, Captain? If you order me to drink with you, I will, but you would not do this, because I'm not your equal. If you want me to play or sing something for you, I will, but you don't care for it. If you want me to tell you some funny stories from my funny life, I will, but you care for my life even less. If you want me in your bed, I will gladly do as told, but you think of your lady and you don't notice me. Or is it me who should take the first step?...
"What the hell are ye doin', ye lil' screw-up?!"
I've spilled the wine.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Captain," I exclaim and fall on my knees before him. "I'm so sorry, I'll clean it this moment."
I've spilled the wine all over him.
"I wonder how ye managed to serve as a maid for as long as one hour."
I've spilled the wine mostly over his breeches.
"I might be a better maid than a cabin boy, it's true, Captain," I say with my hands on his knees, "but I will learn, I promise." And I spread his legs apart - but before I manage to touch his crotch, he snatches the cloth from my hand.
"Enough," he says, "go clean the table."
"No, Captain," I say shoving away his hands gently, but resolutely. "No, I won't..."
"Wh..."
"Shhh, please," I whisper unfastening his belt with my hands that are trembling just so slightly. I've never done this before. I haven't even seen anybody doing it, for that matter.
The Captain is surprisingly silent and I raise my head in fear. He is watching me with a strange expression - I don't know what it is, bewilderment? Shock? Curiosity? Whatever, I cannot let him wake up from it, because it seems that he's going to let me what I want to do. I'd rather not to look at him, maybe he'd like to imagine that it's his lady offering her gift to him and not me...
When I unbutton his breeches and take him in my hand, he makes one more effort to push me away, but I'm clinging to him firmly. I feel heat on my face.
"Please, Captain, do let me," I say pleadingly with my mouth just an inch from his cock. I can tell that he likes the sight - he draws his breath - and I feel him harden even more. He wants me to do it. I smile and take him into my mouth.
I knew that he's big, but I've never imagined that it's so difficult to work over all this length. I'm trying my best keeping my teeth away from the hard silken hotness, but I know I'm not very skillful, and when I hear him calling my name, I raise my eyes in fear.
He's looking at me. I ask him with my eyes if there's anything that he wants, but I quickly realize that no, it's all. He wants me to look at him too. I almost forget to continue under this attentive, thoughtful look, until he urges me gently with his hand on my neck. I blink and get back to my endeavours again. And he slowly inserts his fingers into my hair, making me look at him all the time. It's the first unnecessary tender touch that I get from him, and it makes me melt. And it's me that he wants to watch with his face blushed and mouth panting, and slightly widened, bright eyes - it's me, not some image of his beloved lady or any other girl doing it to him. I'm half-conscious fighting my own desire; I'd like to touch myself, but I can't believe he lets me touch him like this, and I'm clinging to him with both my hands, afraid to lose it. He has to see all this madness and greed in my eyes, because all of a sudden he strengthtens his grip in my hair and I have my mouth full before I can understand what happened. Awww, I've forgotten about this one little thing!... What should I do with it now?
I pull away a little, but I don't want to go anywhere, I remain just like I was, kneeling before him; only that I'm not able to look at him from shame, and press my forehead to his knees.
He takes me lightly by my shoulders and makes me raise my head. I cast my eyes to the floor; he starts to laugh, loudly and wholeheartedly.
"Ah, Ritchie," he says, "ye impudent, brazen, shameless... Now look at me an' tell me, what did ye do with all the load?"
"Nothing," I murmur feeling rather miserably.
"Swallowed it all?" He chuckles again. "Wait a little."
I'm still sitting on the floor when he gives me his bowl with wine.
"Here," he says. "Drink. 'Tis nothin' delicious, I can imagine."
"Um... thank you," I say, still unable to look directly at him.
"Now, now, no need to be so shy. How many times have ye done this?"
"Not even once," I say blushing again.
He frowns with disbelief.
"Yer first? M'God, yer talented then."
"It's not a lie," I say almost with tears in my eyes. "It's been a long time since I lied to you last time, Captain."
"Alright, alright, I believe ye," he says patting me on the head. "Ritchie Brown bein' a virgin, though... doesn't sound like truth to me."
I sigh. If not my easy virtue, he'd have a lonely time with his own hand now.
"Um, Captain..."
"What?"
"Can I have some more?"
"Ah, sure ye can. Only don't expect me to pour it for ye again."
I'm drinking wine slowly, looking at him; he's watching me with his gaze suddenly distant as before.
"Sit down," he says finally.
I sit.
"Why didn't ye stay on St. Thomas?"
"Why... did you want me to stay?" I feel my heart beating harder again.
He sighs.
"I expected ye to stay."
I stop drinking; the wine tastes bitter.
"Ye saw that we're safe in English and French harbours. But it's not a safe trade, Ritchie. We're goin' to fight an' be fought, to kill an' be killed. Ye don't know this life. It'd be better for ye not to try it."
"But Captain, I've tried it already!..."
"No, ye haven't. Nobody knows yer here. Ye could start a new life on St. Thomas. Why didn't ye stay?"
I take a deep breath.
"I don't know," I say innocently, lowering my eyes. "Maybe it was too small for me."
He laughs briefly; I can see he's not very amused.
"Once ye've been in a fight, Ritchie, ye cannot go back. An' if ye stay an' sail with us, ye're goin' to get remembered. An' if ye get remembered, ye may hang someday."
"I don't care," I say cheerfully.
"Ah, I can say ye don't care. I knew it the moment I saw ye. But in this trade only death is sure enough to be counted on. It's not easy to avoid death when yer goin' on account."
"Captain," I say quietly, "if you don't want me on your ship, why don't you kill me? I, for my poor part, want to stay."
He smiles, narrowing his eyes.
"Good," he says. "No more sermons wasted on a young jailbird, then. Clean the table an' go to sleep."
"Um, Captain..."
"What d'ye want this time? Ye've drunk all the wine."
"N-no, it's not the wine..."
"If it's not the wine, shut the hell up an' go to sleep. I will tell ye when I need ye, understood?"
"Aye, Captain," I say patiently. "Perfectly."
I sigh to myself, making my blanket more comfortable for the night. La Aranha is slowly rocking me asleep, and I hear the Captain breathing peacefully in the dark. Ah, I cannot believe what I have just done. He accepted my gift, but I know that it's because he feels that he can treat me with the gloves off. He still doesn't care about me, he neither loves me nor respects me; I understand it. I just need more time to be able to get what I want.