Part II: Shame

For the next two weeks, Fleance traveled out at sea with Ben and his crew. The older men quickly grew fond of the young boy, teaching him the ins and outs of sailing. However, good things never last forever.

Fleance was sitting cross-legged on the deck of the ship with three other men, playing a game of cards. "What's your bet, lad?" one of the men inquired, grinning down at the boy. Fleance scratched the back of his head uncertainly, fishing around in his pockets for some of the change he'd been given or that he'd won through gambling. His heart sank as he came up with nothing but empty pockets.

"I don't have anything to bet with," he mumbled gloomily, putting down his cards. The older men exchanged glances of pity; each hoping the other would donate a coin or two to the boy so they didn't have to.

"Shame. Now you can't beat us all." This sent them off in a fit of uproarious laughter – even Fleance. It was true: somehow, he always managed to beat the older men and win all of their money, but in the end, he gave most of it back. What would such a young boy need money for when he has everything he needs right in one place?

Just then, the hatch leading down to the sleeping quarters opened up and Ben climbed out, looking solemn. Once Fleance saw the look on his face, he stopped laughing – he'd never seen his friend so serious before. "I've got some bad news, ev'ryone." He walked over to the group of gamblers and sat on a wooden crate nearby, sighing heavily. "I'm 'fraid this is our last day." His head hung in shame, for he was unable to face his men. The next time they docked would be the last.

"What? Why?" one of the men growled angrily.

"Times are rough, an' it costs money to ship goods. Businesses are becomin' local again, so we're not getting enough cargo to carry for what it costs to sail. I'm sorry – I wish I could change things."

Final port? Fleance's head was spinning. What would he do? How would he survive? He couldn't go back to Scotland now – they were due to dock in Le Havre within the next day. Would Ben take him home? "Sir? What'll become of me?" Fleance nervously bit his lip, looking up at Ben with wide, fearful eyes.

Slowly, the man turned to gaze at the boy with the saddest expression. "Well… 'Ow's about I take you to Paris with me? I'll be there for a short while, an' then you won't be out in the middle of nowhere, so you can find a job an' support yourself." Ben nodded slowly at first, then more firmly, sure of his plan's success.

Fleance swallowed, staring down at a loose plank on the floor of the ship. Support himself? All he could do was nod; for the second time in his life, he wished desperately that he could numb himself to such feelings of angst. How could he ever trust a person when each stranger he meets keeps bringing him nothing but despair? Somewhere inside of him, he knew that Ben wasn't really at fault, it was simply the poor economy – but his loose grip on the world's inner workings led him to believe that someone had to be at fault, and so he placed the blame on the bearer of his bad news.

The other men were less devastated, though each was disappointed in his own way. Some were relieved to return to their families, others dreaded the suffocating reunion. As the day moved on and they neared their final destination, many worried how they would manage to pay rent for their homes or keep food on the table if they were now jobless. A melancholy cloud seemed to hover over the little boat all day and through the night, until they finally landed in Le Havre, France.

It was dusk by the time Fleance and Ben reached Paris. Suspended far above the small city were high, wispy cirrus clouds while soft, purple puffs of cumulus clouds floated more closely. The sky was painted bright oranges and yellows, while the La Seine river reflected pinker hues. Wavy, green hills rose beyond the water, and just above them hovered a dimly lit orange ball: the sun.

Fleance stopped in the center of a bridge, gaping at the beautiful sight as Ben kept walking. "Come on, lad, you'll see a thousand more o' those before you get out of 'ere." Fleance just barely managed to tear his gaze away from the sky to run forwards and catch up before Ben disappeared down a street. He couldn't help but regain a bit of hope as he ran ahead; if something so magnificently stunning could exist in the midst of all of his recent misfortune, then surely his struggles would lead him to better, brighter futures.

That night, Fleance slept on a cot in the corner of Ben's cramped apartment. All night he tossed and turned, tangling himself up in the thin blankets Ben had found for him. He dreamed of a ravaging storm, sweeping in and tearing apart their ship. Fleance was flung off the boat and into the icy surging water, then pulled down into darkness by the sinking ship. Gasping, he flailed about in the water as his lungs were filled. He quickly became light headed, and that was when he saw his father, lifelessly suspended in the ocean.

"No!" the boy cried out, gasping as he sat up with a start. He shuddered, pulling the blanket close around his body and shutting his eyes tightly. Fleance was greeted with the image of his father's dead eyes staring back at him, ingraining themselves in his memory permanently. The boy whimpered, opening his eyes again and hugging his knees to his chest. Is it possible to sleep with your eyes open? he thought to himself as he struggled to remain awake for fear of his nightmare returning.