Thank you everyone for your patience. I've been terrible about working on this chapter and I have no excuse except that I've rather enjoyed reading GWTW related materials lately and just came back from a trip to Atlanta and will be heading to Charleston in November. The passion is still there…the time just isn't. In any case, I have to thank DreamGWTW for her prod this morning to get this chapter up. It was nearly done and all I really had to do is polish it up, so this one—S—is for you.
Chapter 13 – Collision at Sea
The green eyes staring at Rhett from beneath the wide brim of the ragged hat were unmistakable. He'd seen them in his dreams over the past year and just a few hours earlier they had blazed with passion as she begged him to take her with him. Now, they ignited a fire in his belly that threatened to turn his stomach inside out as she introduced herself in the ship's mess.
The next few moments were a blur—for both of them.
Scarlett, who had carefully plotted how she would stowaway on Rhett's ship had also strategically planned the exact moment when she would reveal her presence; soon enough in the voyage to make him squirm yet far enough out to sea that he couldn't possibly return her to Charleston. Yes, she had the upper hand over Rhett Butler and her confidence in the plan she had concocted grew steadily with each passing hour she spent on the boat undetected. By the time her green eyes met Rhett's dark ones over supper, she was virtually intoxicated with the adrenalin racing through her veins. Then, just like a drunkard who sobers with deluge of icy water, the spark of anger she saw in Rhett's black eyes quickly doused her bravado and set her heart pounding.
As for Rhett, his exit from the dining mess was swift if not altogether sure. When the bell of recognition rang in his head, he felt nothing but blind fury. Momentarily unaware of the time and place, his only thought was to get her away from the men—and fast! He later recalled seizing her arm and steering her up the rickety stairs, down the ship to his private quarters. He had opened the door and kicked it wide with his foot and in doing so, unceremoniously shoved her over the threshold.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he growled.
Scarlett missed a step and stumbled forward, catching herself to avoid hitting the floor. Her unsteadiness was due partly to his unabashed shove and partly to the uneven pitch of the boat. Regaining her footing, she raised her chin high and averted her eyes before replying with a controlled, overly cultured voice that struck Rhett as contrived. "I've always wanted to travel. I thought now would be a good time to do it. Besides, I've always wanted to see England," she said airily as she walked over to his porthole.
"Well, then, you're on the wrong ship. We're not going to England," he replied flatly.
"Oh?" She turned to face him, her surprise evident in her face despite her best attempt at feigning disinterest.
"You've boarded a ship bound for Nassau and then Havana."
"Well, then, I've always wanted to see those cities, too," she amended. "I hear they are lovely this time of year." Her voice was at distinct odds with her attire and despite his anger at her, Rhett had to muster all of his wits to smother a grin at her impudence.
"You little minx, don't you know this is dangerous? You could get killed or worse, get one of my men killed with your presence!"
"I can take care of myself, thank you."
"Oh, you can, can you?"
"Yes, I can," she stated defiantly. "Now, if you'll excuse me," she added in an attempt to brush past him.
"No, I will not excuse you," he growled, grabbing her arm and bringing her squarely in front of him. "You're a crewmember. I'm the captain of this vessel. You'll leave when I say you can leave. And right now, I have a few things I wish to discuss." He dropped his large frame into a massive mahogany chair and casually leaned back until it rested on its two rear legs. "Sit," he ordered as he extended his long legs in front of him and with the toe of his right boot, hooked an adjacent chair and dragged it out from a nearby table. He indicated with a casual wave of his hand that she should sit. "For starters, how are your accommodations? Do you think you'll be nice and…" he paused, searching for the right word, "…cozy?"
Scarlett was taken aback by his attitude. While she didn't expect chivalry from him, she did expect him to act like a gentleman, so for him to uncharacteristically sit before taking the time to politely pull out a chair and wait until she was seated told her that she was facing a side of Rhett Butler that she hadn't yet seen.
"They are fine," she answered uneasily as she took a seat in the proffered chair. "Cramped, yes. I thought a man of your means with a ship of this size would have nicer accommodations for his crew, but I won't quibble."
"Thank you for the crumbs from you table, my dear."
"If you want to pack your entire crew into a dwarf-size room that's your business," she continued as if she had not heard him and dusted an invisible piece of lint from her ragged, dirty trousers.
"Yes, it is my business and the reason is a practical one: We've taken out many of the staterooms to make room for more cargo, after all, that is what we're doing here—running a business, a very profitable one, my dear. I'll not have you getting in my way, do you understand me? If anything during this voyage is delayed or obstructed in any way due to having a woman on board, you will be sorry."
"You don't frighten me, Rhett Butler, or scare me with your threats. No one will ever know I'm here."
"I know you're here and that's enough."
"And does that bother you?" she asked slyly.
Rhett leaned forward in his chair until he was so close to Scarlett that the brim of her hat brushed against his forehead. "Not in the least," he articulated slowly, emphasizing each word. He held her gaze for what seemed like several moments; neither of them willing to break the glance as if doing so would be the equivalent of flinching. A clanging pot hitting the floor in the mess was the sound that startled Scarlett enough to direct her eyes toward the door. Realizing the sound came from below, she reluctantly turned back to Rhett.
"A little jumpy today, aren't we? Well, get over it," he said, leaning back in his chair once more. "Now, there are some rules I want you to remember."
"Don't begin to think that you can tell me—"
"As I said earlier," Rhett interrupted smoothly, "I am the captain here and as said captain, I have rules, which I expect to be followed. Rule number one, don't fraternize with the crew."
"Why not? I'm here to make friends," she returned as if she were discussing the seating arrangement at the Twelve Oaks barbecue.
"It is unlikely you'll make any friends here. From a distance, you can pass for a boy. Close-up is another thing entirely," he said while his eyes examined every facet of her face.
Scarlett, thinking she could use this moment to her advantage, dimpled under his gaze. "But I…I have passed for a boy before and I…I don't think…" Scarlett floundered around for words with practiced modesty as she kept her eyes downward. "I…I mean…not one is about to notice me. I'm…quite boyish…and rather ordinary, don't you think?" She looked up at him looking at him as his opinion on the matter was of utmost importance.
Rhett sat still for some time and his eyes moved imperceptibly. They roamed over her face, traveled down her neck to her bosom, which was concealed under the baggy shirt. He could imagine what lay hidden there. He had felt her breasts pressed against him when he had held her tightly to his chest on the jostling bench in her aunt's front yard. Her pants, cinched at the waist showed just how tiny a waist she had, which was distinctly at odds with the oversized nature of both her shirt and pants. Anyone with any sense would know that her figure was so slight, too slight to pass for anyone but the scrawniest young lad and was certainly not the type of boy that Rhett would ordinary hire.
As Rhett's eyes roamed further, he noted that the pants, while loose, were not so loose that he couldn't make out the curve of her bottom as she sat in the chair and imagine just how slim her legs were and felt the hairs rise on his neck at the thought of her milky white thighs that met at the apex of her being. Scarlett shivered slightly under his gaze as he undressed her with his eyes and a slight smile came to her lips. "He's just as taken with me as he has always been," she thought, but now, instead of the idea bringing her joy, it incited a wicked sense of retribution. She dimpled at the thought and imagined how much fun it would be to tease and torment Rhett for the duration of the voyage.
Finally, Rhett spoke and when he did, his voice was thick. "Just take my word for it, keep your distance."
"Are you finished?"
"No, there's one other thing."
"What?"
"Rule number two, don't you dare let anyone know that you are not the boy that you pretend to be."
"And just why is that?"
"Scarlett, you little fool! You can't even begin to realize what a crew of men can be like when they are out at sea without any female companionship for any length of time. They are like ravenous animals that have not had a meal in more than a week. They will jump on any female that comes near them."
"But they are your friends!"
"Correction, they are my crew members. I hired them for their brawn. They can tote cargo, are trustworthy—up to a point—and have no families to distract them from the task at hand. I didn't hire them for their honor and gentlemanly manners, of which I am assuming they have none."
Her chin was held high but suddenly the mask on her face that was the epitome of haughtiness fell and Rhett caught a look of alarm take its place as her eyes scanned his room in near panic. He watched her a moment, then continued, "So, my dear, you are in quite a little predicament, aren't you? Afraid to go home, unable to face your aunts, stuck on a ship with a crew of unruly men who would just as easily take you against your will as throw you overboard if you dared look at them sideways. All because you were unwilling to wait just one month for me to return—"
"Why? So I could be your mistress? I'll tell you something, Rhett Butler. You think you're so damned high and mighty. Spouting all your rules and regulations to me. Well, I've had enough! Don't you give me a second thought, not that you would have anyway. Just leave me alone!" She jumped up from the chair but didn't get far.
"Sit down!" He said, pushing her back down. "I haven't dismissed you yet." He paused, waiting for his words to sink in as he watched her settle back into the chair as the air in her lungs escaped. "Before you leave, just answer my earlier question. How are your accommodations?" he asked with a sly grin.
"They're fine!"
"Oh, they are, that's good. Any questions?"
Scarlett looked down and shyly surveyed his quarters, which were luxurious compared to the rat hole she had to sleep in. "Umm…where…er…where is…er…" She eyed the door behind him.
Rhett watched her squirm and followed the trail of her eyes. She was sitting there wringing her hands and started twisting some of the excess fabric of her shirt until she had pulled a sizable amount of it out of her pants and now it was bunched up in her lap.
"What is it, Scarlett? Out with it, quick! I haven't all day," he stated impatiently, though his eyes danced with mischief.
"Where…where…" she took a deep breath so she could finish. "Where are the facilities?"
"Are you referring to the commode? Your dressing room? Am I right?"
"Yes."
"Well, do you remember seeing that long plank on the back wall of the crew's quarters below deck?"
Scarlett's mind tried to recall what he was referring to in the dimly lit quarters below deck. "Yes, I think so."
"Well, there you go."
"What?"
"You've found it."
"I found what?"
"The facilities, as you call it. The long plank has a hinged door on top. Open that and there's a hole…ah…I admit, it isn't as luxurious as the accommodations at the Atlanta's National Hotel, but for a ship, it is downright ostentatious in its grandeur—"
"An old board! You must be joking?"
"Not in the least. Now if you'll excuse me." He turned away from her and started adjusting papers on his desk.
"But…but…" she sputtered.
"But what?" He asked innocently.
"There are no walls. There is no…no privacy!"
"Listen, Scarlett, that is precisely why only men travel onboard this ship. We don't have a so-called Ladies' Room on the left and a Gentlemen's Room on the right. This is a business and frills cost money and reduce profits. So, to answer your question, no. Don't expect to find gingham and lace curtains around here. Life on board this ship is crude. I'm not hosting a ladies' tea here. The men drop their drawers and you can choose to look away or not. That's your choice. Believe me, you'll see far worse. You'll do well to remember that."
"But…but…" Rhett studied her and he could see tears begin to well up in her eyes but they did not fall. He watched her swallow hard and look down at the floor. When she looked back up at him, her eyes were steely hard and her chin determined. "Fine. I'll be fine," she said and turned to leave.
"Scarlett, stop right there. I'll tell the other crew members that you will be my…er…for want of a better word, let's say you'll be my valet," he stretched out the word for added emphasis, "which in this case, means you're responsible for cleaning my quarters and…"
"What? I'm to be your maid!"
"Will you calm down and listen to me for a minute!" He stood from the chair and started pacing, raking his fingers through his hair. "God, women!"
She bit her tongue and huffed loudly, but she quieted long enough for him to continue. "They will think you're cleaning my quarters, all right?" He turned to face her directly. "In fact, you and I will lead them to think I'm so disorganized that I need my quarters cleaned, oh…ummm…what four, five times a day? You come in here at regular intervals when I'm otherwise occupied and you can use my facilities in private," he said, swinging open a door to his dressing room.
"What?" Scarlett was stunned at what she saw. Inside his dressing room was a lovely porcelain commode, a huge wardrobe, washstand with a pitcher and bowl…why it was nearly as nice as her dressing room at Tara! And he had it all to himself! "This is all yours and you make your men live like animals?"
"This is the privilege of being the boss and the captain of this ship. It is my neck on the line when we run a blockade. It is my money that is invested in this ship, no one else's. Just who should have the larger accommodations, hmm?"
He held up his hand to silence her when she opened her mouth to speak. "Besides, before you spout any other nonsense, remember that I'm offering to share them with you for the duration of the voyage. Use them whenever you need to, just try to develop a regular schedule so that the men don't become suspicious, and oh…bring in a broom once in awhile, too."
She glared at him with undisguised hatred. "It will keep up appearances," he continued with a smirk. "Appearances need to be maintained around here, Scarlett. Life will be quite unpleasant if your cover is blown, I assure you."