Chapter 14 – Avoiding Suspicion

Somehow, someway, Scarlett made it back to the crew's quarters where she found the bed she had been assigned. Well, it really couldn't be called a bed at all. The room was reasonably large, by a ship's standards, with a stove in the center. On the two long walls, were two rows of what could be described only as shelves. The hard wooden shelves were topped with several mattress ticks, laid end to end. At one end of every tick lay a pillow and a neatly folded blanket. Above the two shelves several lengths of burlap fabric hung from the ceiling. What that was used for, Scarlett had no idea.

On the back wall was the long, covered board Scarlett now knew to be the men's commode. Just the sight of it made Scarlett shiver with distaste. Had Rhett not offered his quarters to her, she just might fast for the next few days to avoid having to answer the call of nature. Behind her, on the fourth wall, were the stairs to the upper deck along with a desk, topped with a couple of books, a newspaper, a pouch of tobacco and other assorted items that belonged to one or more of the men.

Just then, Scarlett wanted nothing more than to crawl mercifully into her bunk, distasteful as it was. There were no sheets on the tick and no pillowcase. The thought of laying down upon this dirty mattress and putting her head on this pillow was enough to make her gag, yet the prospect of being alone to cry her tears made even this sufferable. "Oh, nothing is turning out how I imagined it," she cried to herself as she sat morosely on her bunk. She was just noticing how thin the tick really was when the man she had come to know as Karl, abruptly came down the steps.

"For God's sake, are you deaf, boy? I've been calling and calling you. Where the hell have you been? Get back up on deck. There's work to be done before you turn in for the night."

Scarlett was too stunned to move and the full realization of what she had done and the enormity of the mess she had gotten herself into came down upon her making it hard to breathe. She looked up at the man too stunned to move.

"C'mon! Get a move on, boy!" yelled Karl, standing with his feet wide and his hands on his hips.

When she still didn't move a muscle, he bent a little at the waist to try and peer under the brim of her hat. "C'mon boy," he said in a softer tone. "You're homesick. That's what it is. I see it all the time. Let's go. You'll get over it. You'll see your mama again. If there's one thing I know, Captain Butler will see to your safety. He'll get you home safe and sound."

For a second, Karl thought he may have heard the boy growl, but figured he was mistaken. "C'mon lad. Cat got your tongue? What's your name?"

Just then, Scarlett knew that it would probably be to her benefit if in fact the cat had run off with her tongue. How was she going to imitate a man's voice?

"Lad, speak up! I've had enough of his nonsense! Now's what's your name?"

"Joe," blurted out Scarlett in a voice she assumed was gruff and deep enough to pass for a teenage boy. At the moment, all she could think of was Joe Fontaine, who was not much taller than she.

"Joe." Karl seemed to turn the name around on his tongue. "Joe…hmm…Joe. Nah, that's not right."

Scarlett's heart leapt, assuming her lie had already been detected.

"Joe," Karl repeated again. "Nah, it just doesn't fit you," he declared. "But all right, Joe, if you say so. Then, Joe, let's get a move on."

This time Scarlett willed her legs to move and she climbed to the deck as instructed. Once there, she awaited direction from Karl. The other men were bustling about the deck, lugging ropes or tugging on them, some tethered to auxiliary sails that flew above the boat.

"Here, lad. You're small, but I'm hoping you're wiry," said Karl, pointing to a pile of wooden pallets that were stacked on deck. "We'll be loading cargo onto these later, but for now, they're in the way. Move them aft and stack them in the corner out of the way."

Scarlett's initial reaction was to think, "What! Are you kidding?" But then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rhett and she could have sworn that she noticed him snicker, which only bolstered her determination. She took off toward the pallets. She picked up an end of the pallet on the top of the pile. It was about three-feet square. She approached it from one angle, fumbled and then, took another tact. She grabbed it again only to drop it with a bang when a sliver of wood stabbed her palm.

"Here, try these." Karl appeared from behind her and tossed a pair of leather work gloves onto the stack of pallets. Scarlett gave him a smile in grateful appreciation as she pulled on the gloves and tackled the job again with renewed vigor.

Holding her tongue between her teeth, on her fifth attempt she finally maneuvered a pallet to its designated spot. Now knowing how to tackle the project, she persevered with what Rhett, who was watching her covertly from the shadows, could only describe as dogged determination.

She hauled and tugged and hauled and tugged for what seemed like an eternity. All Scarlett knew was that by the time she was nearly finished, the sun had sunk to the horizon and the other men had long since retreated below deck.

Karl, who was surveying the work done, came upon Joe still working at the task he assigned him.

"What! You're still at this? Why you are a weak one, aren't you?" Karl said, pushing his hat back from his forehead as he surveyed her progress. Finally, sighing with resignation, he shook his head and grabbed one the edge of one of the remaining pallets. "Here, let me help ye with this."

"No, thank you, sir. I'll finish up," Scarlett said gruffly, keeping her head down. "It's my job. I'll see it through."

Karl looked up at the lad and smiled. "You're small but you've got determination. I'll give you that. Well, if that's how you want it, I'll let you finish up. When you're done, you can call it a day."

Scarlett nodded at Karl and with her second wind was able to finish up moving the pallets within the hour. By that time, the deck was deserted with most of the men having long ago retreated to their quarters. Exhausted, Scarlett breathed deeply and peeled the leather gloves off her hands. Dreading the idea of going to bed while the men were still lingering about, Scarlett decided to stay topside for a while longer and strode purposely toward the ship's bow. Up front, she discovered a small bench tucked between two big whiskey barrels and settled herself in the nook they formed. It was only then that she looked up to the sky and noticed how bright the moon was and caught sight of a dozen stars, one in particular shining apart from the others. Without a thought, she immediately closed her eyes tight and made a wish, a ritual taught to her as a child by Mammy, who said wishing upon the first star of the night would ensure that her wish would come true.

With her eyes shut tight, Scarlett whispered her plea as a tear trickled down her cheek. Opening her eyes, she felt foolish. Wishes didn't come true! If they did, she wouldn't be in this terrible predicament, humiliated and regulated to working like a field hand, unable and unwilling to return home. She quickly wiped away the stray tear with her hand and lifted her face to the incoming brisk wind. It dried her tears better than she could do and turned her cheeks rosy from its chill. Thinking she was alone, Scarlett removed her hat and the gusty wind loosened her hair until it whipped around her face. For Scarlett, the wind was therapeutic, cleansing her as no bath at this point could. It dried her tears as they spilled from her overflowing eyes and burnished her black hair until it shone like velvet.

Scarlett never looked more beautiful. She had a wildness about her, a determination and the wind seemingly rejuvenated her spirit just as pouring water on a wilted flower can make it stand up straight and tall. She bathed in the wind, raising her hands to her head and coming her fingers through her tangled tresses. Rhett, who had stealthly meandered around the deck all evening, keeping his eyes on Scarlett, watched her from the shadows. Obviously she had no idea of his presence or she was more naïve than he thought because her reaction to the wind in her face and the wild sea was almost primal and so sensual that Rhett found himself becoming aroused much to his surprise and distress.

"Damn, her!" he cursed silently. He desperately needed time alone and her presence onboard was unnerving. He wouldn't be in this position if she had stayed put in Charleston as he had hoped. He had to put a stop to this.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Rhett hissed at Scarlett, sneaking up behind her.

Scarlett jumped. Startled at the sound of his voice, she could only turn toward him and gasp.

The sight of her up close startled Rhett as well. Her green eyes blazed and her lips, reddened by the salty air, were ruby red and parted in surprise. From her shoulders up, she was all womanly feminity and from her shoulders down, well…Rhett was already well acquainted with the allures that were hidden under the boyish, baggy clothes. His hands went cold and his heart raced at the sight of her. To cover himself, he did the only thing he could think of.

"Don't you realize that if anyone caught you like this your crazy scheme would be exposed?" he barked. "Well, don't you?" he repeated when she didn't answer him.

Rhett drew close to Scarlett, so close that strands of her black hair whipped around his face. "I told you that there would be consequences if anyone found out who you are, didn't I. Or, did I not make myself clear?"

Her hair blew about wildly, enveloping them in a veil of black strands that now seemed to be indistinguishable from the inky sky, where the stars sparkled like diamonds woven through her tresses. At his admonition, Scarlett's hands tried madly to rein in her hair until she finally grasped enough of it in her one hand so that that she was able to pull her floppy hat back on her head with the other.

"There! Satisfied now?" she hissed back in return.

"You're quite the little spitfire, aren't you? Well, I'll tell you this—don't get too comfortable around here because you never will know who is watching you. At the risk of repeating myself, if any one so much as suspects that you are not who you profess to be, there will be consequences. Don't forget that. Do you understand?"

Scarlett's eyes glared at him with undisguised hatred. "I hate you!" she spat and turned abruptly to head below deck but Rhett was too quick and grabbed her arm as she left, spinning her back until she bumped against his chest and their faces were mere inches apart.

His breath was warm on her forehead in contrast to the cool night air and Scarlett felt her heart thumping madly in her chest and hoped that Rhett couldn't feel it too. Their eyes held and locked. Black eyes bore into green and green drilled into black in a virtual standoff. Finally, Rhett broke the silence.

"You can use my quarters to clean up before retiring."

Scarlett shook off his arm that held onto hers and started off toward his quarters. "Don't I get even a 'thank you'?" Rhett inquired.

"Thank you, sir," Scarlett answered, turning to look at him as she punctuated the word sir in her most sarcastic tone. Silence hung in the air with only the sound coming from the flapping sails and waves sloshing against the side of the boat. After she was satisfied that she made her point, she strode away, leaving Rhett alone on deck.

Hastening to Rhett's luxurious cabin, Scarlett doubled over and dry heaved into the wash basin. Her hands shook and were cold and clammy as she tried to hold back her hair. She retched and her empty stomach cried foul. For the first time in her life, fear took hold of Scarlett O'Hara. If what Rhett said was true, she had narrowly escaped detection. If someone other than Rhett had found her on deck and learned she was a woman…well…the consequences could be…

"Oh, God!" Scarlett wailed. She had heard plenty of sordid tales of what men did when they were deprived of feminine companionship. She heard stories about how the Yankees would rape women, having their way with them until they satisfied their depraved appetites. How would these men be any different? Why, if just one of them knew her true identity, he might blackmail her…force her to… "I won't think about that now," Scarlett told herself, pushing the ugly thoughts to the back of her mind. She had only a few minutes to clean up before heading to her quarters where all the other hands would be sleeping. "Oh, but I have to think about it now!"

Scarlett removed her hat and tucked her hair behind her ears. She splashed cool water on her face and found a bar of French milled soap that she used to wash her hands and face. She discovered a hairbrush on the dresser and began detangling her hair, which at this point, seemed to be an impossible task. The sea air had turned her usually wavy hair into an unruly mass of curls that were snarled by the wind. Dragging the brush through the knots only caused Scarlett frustration and she winced with each unproductive stroke. "Damn!" she cried as her frustration gave way to exhaustion, creating a volatile mix when combined with her anger. Her strokes came stronger and faster until Scarlett was bruising her temple with the hard tortoise shell brush. It was at that precise moment that her eye caught a glint of metal as it flashed in the mirror. That was it! That was the answer!

Never a cautious decision-maker, Scarlett's personality was to take action and dwell on the consequences later. Given her current predicament, one would think that Scarlett had learned her lesson and would have shunned hasty decisions, but fatigue and impotent anger were clouding her mind as she grabbed the metal object from Rhett's desk that was so temptingly flashing in the moonlight.

Racing back to the mirror, Scarlett took a deep breath, closed her eyes and tried to summon her resolve. She opened her eyes and stared at her reflection in the mirror with renewed determination. Her mind drifted back to a spring day when she was eight. She had been climbing trees with the Tarleton twins when Mammy had found her dangling upside down from her knees as she hung from a tree branch, her skirts up over her head. Mammy couldn't believe her eyes and had dragged Scarlett bodily into the house and scolded her to "ack like a 'lil lady." She was told over and over that she was a girl, not a boy and it was high time she started acting like one. In Scarlett's childlike mind she saw no advantages to being a girl. Boys could run wild, climb trees and do whatever they wanted, while she, Scarlett was forced to sit still for hours while Mammy braided her hair. She had to keep her skirts clean, sit with her hands folded neatly in her lap and learn needlepoint. Girls couldn't do anything fun. So, Scarlett decided she would be better off being a boy and thought of a simple remedy. She snuck into her mother's sewing room and took Ellen's scissors from her sewing basket. She tiptoed back upstairs and had cut several chunks of hair from her head before Ellen had walked in and caught her. But by then, the damage had been done. Scarlett had chopped random sections of her long hair from her head, leaving Mammy and Ellen to try and fix it by cutting the rest of her hair to even out the damage. After that, nothing had changed. In fact, her situation had only worsened. Her punishment was to spend two hours indoors each summer day reading poetry in addition to finishing an entire needlepoint project while she heard the boys running outside and calling her name to come out and play.

Now the situation was different. She was in a dire predicament and if she had to pass for a boy, she better start looking like one. If that meant cutting off her hair to avoid suspicion, she would damn well do it!

She grasped a fistful of her hair and brought the heavy scissors up to her temple. She had just inserted the strands between the blades when there was a heavy crash and the scissors was ripped from her hands followed by Rhett howling: "What in God's name are you thinking?"

Both Rhett and Scarlett's breaths came in gasps as they broke apart and stared alternatively at the lock of hair that lay on the floor and the gleaming scissors that Rhett now held high in his hand. "What the hell?" was all Rhett could say as he tired to regain some composure.

"You wanted me to pass undetected. You didn't want anyone to suspect who I was, so I am going to take the steps to do just that if you…sir…will just hand me back the scissors. I won't trouble you again," Scarlett snarled with all the sarcasm she could muster.

"You little fool!"

Rhett looked as though he had been flung against the wall but in reality it was Scarlett who he had nearly flung across the room in attempt to grab the scissors from her hand. He was nearly breathless in shock, gaping at Scarlett in surprise, whereas, Scarlett stood on firm footing, waiting for him to explain himself.

"The scissors, please."

"Are you kidding? Do I have to rid the room of ever sharp object to keep you in check?"

"In check? It is you who must be kidding. Exactly why do you have to keep me in check? I was doing exactly what you ordered me to do."

"And when did I order you to cut your hair?"

"Do I need to remind you that you warned me of the consequences of anyone finding out who I was after my hair came loose from my hat. By cutting my hair, sir, I only thought I'd keep any suspicion at bay," Scarlett explained with a haughty composure she thought would have made her Grandmother Solange Robillard proud.

"I never thought you would cut your hair."

"Oh, no? And why not, sir?"

"Stop calling me 'sir' this minute," Rhett said, putting the scissors into his top desk drawer before taking a step toward Scarlett. "Let me get this straight so you understand me completely. I do not want you calling me sir and I do not want you cutting your hair."

"And exactly what should I call you…sir?"

Rhett picked up lock of hair on the floor and shook his head as he looked at the strands that lay limply in his hand. "I don't care what you call me, but it better not be sir," he said. He set the shorn lock on his desk blotter with care and reached out to toward Scarlett. His hand went gently around her neck and he lightly fingered the strands of her hair before his fingers came to rest softly against her cheek. "And whatever you do," he added in a softer voice, a voice that brought out goose bumps on her skin and made her breath stop short in her throat. "Don't ever think of cutting your hair." He was so close to her now that she could feel his heartbeat. His fingers floated through her hair and he held his hand, now laced with her hair against her cheek. "You should never cut your hair. It is far too beautiful."

"Really?" Scarlett's proud, haughty voice turned to childlike innocence.

"Really."