Chapter Seven: Welcome, Mister Gareth Bennett
A few feet from the steps was a small entrance to a small office cramped with cabinets full of medical tools, jars and bookcases. With caution, I approached, not feeling in much of a friendly mood after Bennett and I took to our separate ways.
"Doctor Cavanaugh," I said, knocking on the side of the entryway before actually stepping in.
"Yes? Come in, boy," he responded from his position at his desk.
"You said to come back when my nose has stopped bleedin', sir, and so I have." Seeing that he was occupied, I welcomed myself to sitting in the "patient's" chair, admiring the glass containers full of strange herbs and remedies, and the numerous rows of health books. "Did Mister Griffith stop by here?" I asked. I had assumed Doctor Cavanaugh to be busy with Griffith when I arrived, and so I was a tad bit unsuspecting of him just sitting down at his desk, scribbling down some notes.
"Yes, he did, Jack. Mentioned to me that you'd come. The lad came by to stitch up a small gash on his knuckle and was out almost as soon as he came in. But you, however…" He paused and looked up from his paper and stared back at me, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands onto his lap. "…have some explaining to do before I take a look at that eye of yours." I gulped, and as he stood up from his seat and approached me, he pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose.
"Explain what, sir?" I replied innocently.
"How you obtained such injuries," he stated simply as he began to gently poke my throbbing eye.
"I… dunno, sir," I said, as nobly as possible. Though, my attempt seemed too weak for my own satisfaction, and I told Doctor Cavanaugh the truth.
"Does the captain know?" he questioned, lifting his disappointed glare to scan his cabinets for some mode of treatment.
"No, sir," I replied. Feeling comfortable around him I added, "Will you tell him?" The doctor sighed as his hand reached to grab a jar of some unknown medicine on a shelf.
"Only if you request otherwise. Mister Griffith has solicited the incident to be kept secret between us, and all I need is your consent." He turned around to face me and I found that in his hand was a glass jar full of murky, greenish water, and most surprisingly, thick black worms wriggling within it. I stared at the jar with stretched eyelids and a slightly opened mouth.
"B-Before I answer, Doctor," I began, my eyes never leaving his hand as he pulled one of the black slugs from the jar and neared it to my face. "What is that?"
"A leech; it will diminish the amount of blood rushing towards your eye, and thus the swelling will desist," he replied as he carefully placed the cold wet worm on my right eyelid. I shuddered as the slimy creature pinched my skin with its small teeth and began to avidly draw away my blood.
"I think," I said, wincing as he placed a smaller leech on the other side of my eye, closer to the gash, "that I'd like this to be kept secret."
"Well then," said Doctor Cavanaugh, "what explanation will you have me tell the captain when he discovers you injuries?"
"I…"
For once, my brain could not conjure up some believable lie, and my tongue would not say anything either. My wily little mind had finally been forced to halt when the matter of Captain Carlisle finding out surfaced, and therefore my incompetence pressed Doctor Cavanaugh to think up a lie for me.
"During the drill this morning, while you were passing cartridges to the gunmen, a man inadvertently elbowed you in the face when he pulled the gun's lanyard to fire. You, too focused on your duty to be aware of your surroundings, immediately fell to the ground, only to be unintentionally pushed aside when Midshipman Griffith passed his orders for the gun crew to reload." Rubbing his chin, he looked back at me and arched his eyebrows, waiting for my approbation of the lie.
So pleased with his story that I was stunned, I readily accepted with a nod.
He smirked in response to my very relieved smile. "Wouldn't you agree, Jack?" he asked, doing a very good job of acting on my behalf.
"Y-Yes, sir," I replied, so happy with the support that I was stuttering.
His smirk, though, faded, and he looked at me in much the same way my daddy would have done whenever I was in trouble.
Taking off his spectacles and wiping his brow with the back of his hand, he brought his desk chair up to me and sat himself in it, still staring at me with the same utter chagrin. "You have but been on board for barely three days, Jack, and you have already proved your clear non-compliance to your commanding officers."
"I…I just don't like to take orders from a lad barely older than I am. …Makes me feel… insignificant."
"And you did not feel inferior before?" he inquired, highly skeptical of my remark. "The ship's book says that you are an orphan, and it surprises me that you are not accustomed to taking orders."
"I'm not," I replied resolutely. "I've taken care of myself all me lonesome life, and I don't need no bloody arrogant middy to beat me about."
Doctor Cavanaugh at last lifted his disappointment, only to have bafflement replace it on his visage.
"Well then," he began, standing up from his seat. "It appears as though you are stubborn as an ass, Jack." He grinned. "I am in need of a surgeon's assistant, one who will be willing to hand me tools and carry out small errands during operations. Would you prefer that profession to ship's boy?"
My one, good eye lit up and I jumped from my seat, and one of the leeches on my face lost its grip and plopped onto the floor.
"Yes!" I exclaimed. "I'd rather do that than peel damn potatoes for a whole afternoon."
"Good. I shall speak with Captain Carlisle about your request to be surgeon's assistant, mind you, not surgeon's mate."
"Why just assistant?" I probed.
"You are not educated enough in physiology or medicine in order to actually work with me in operations." He paused and added, "You are keen around blood, correct?"
My brows furrowed in vague confusion.
"I deem so, sir."
"All right then."
He began to gather some papers from his desk and by the looks of it, he was leaving. "Stay here," he ordered. "And keep that leech on your eye for another hour or two." With a nod as a farewell, he scooped up the remaining papers and strolled out of his office.
Surgeon's assistant, I thought. Sounds better than ship's boy. So it should be better… I think…
It was four o'clock in the afternoon, and I was on the first Dog Watch with Roland, Bennett and Andre. The officer of the watch was the ebullient Second Lieutenant Johnson, and he stood proudly beside the coxswain, his dark eyes centered on precise observations of the area.
Doctor Cavanaugh did indeed speak to Captain Carlisle of my request to be surgeon's assistant, and the captain had replied to him with an honest, "I shall think about it, Doctor," before dismissing him. When he came back to his office and found me sitting in the patient's chair, looking bored and restless and poking the squishy leech on my eye for fun, he sighed and told me the captain's reply, which I all, I had not made much of a worthy impression to him yet.
Doctor Cavanaugh then took care of my eye and stitched up the gash calmly and cleanly despite my yelps.
However, while I stood on the quarterdeck with Roland and Andre, my right eye was still refused vision because of its unremitting inflammation. When I came back to Roland, he tried his best not to laugh at my all too apparent injury, but the boy ended up chuckling anyway. He and Andre were in a deep discussion about the possible action waiting for them, and I, too occupied with surveying the cool, blue sea with my one eye, decided not to involve myself in their boyish talk.
There came a cheerful laugh from behind, belonging to Roland, which was followed by Andre's own delight. "You remember that song, Tim always used t'sing?" said Andre, sounding more of his happy self then some withdrawn hermit.
"Yes! The one about the mermaid!" cried Roland. "Mermaid?" I thought. Talk about nonexistent creatures made me turn around and I looked at Roland and Andre, who were eagerly trying to remember the mentioned song. "How did it go again?" asked Roland, rubbing his chin.
Andre didn't answer. All he did was jump up suddenly with excitement and sang in a very clear, but slightly off tune voice:
Oh the ocean waves may roll,
And the stormy winds may blow,
While we poor sailors go skipping aloft
And the land lubbers lay down below, below, below
And the land lubbers lay down below.
Then three times 'round went our gallant ship,
And three times 'round went she,
And the third time that she went 'round
She sank to the bottom of the sea!
I was moved to join in the hilarity of the song, considering it a dreadful course of bad luck for the ship in the song to have sunk. And, laughing, I clapped my hands as Andre did his little jig, with the other Idlers on Watch gathering around and cheering him on.
"Sailors!" came a vicious scowl.
Andre halted his hopping feet, I stopped my clapping, and the sailors dispersed like a group of blind mice as First Lieutenant Thorne intruded into our fun with a murderous look about him. "You are to be on watch! This is not your leisure time so do not ignore your duties for childish merriment. Mister Turner, with me. The rest of you get back to your stations!" Turning his head to the side, he yelled, "Mister Bennett!"
"Aye, sir," came the return call as Bennett left his spot in the rigging and quickly arrived to please the very steamed Lieutenant Thorne.
"You and Mister Turner are to stay on the quarterdeck until the Watch is over." He sent a fierce glare in mine and Andre's direction. "You know better than to idle about with the ship's boys," he muttered before hotly stomping off.
Obligated to his duty, Roland solemnly left our company to join Bennett, and as Lieutenant Thorne turned his back to us to return to his spot beside the wheel and a gentler Lieutenant Johnson, I sent a livid glare to his fake, white hair.
Someone nudged me in the side as I delivered the sign of disrespect to Thorne's back. "No use in glarin', mate," whispered Andre. "You'll get a floggin' for that."
"Oh, bollocks," I griped, crossing my arms over my chest. "I've sent plenty a glare in Griffith's direction, and I ain't got flogged yet."
"But he still beat you anyway," muttered Andre, his brown eyes looking at my sewed up eyebrow. "I'll race ya to the top o' the mainmast," he suggested, shrugging his shoulders. He must have sensed my irritation and decided to lighten up the environment.
"Shouldn' we be doin' our duty?" I asked.
"Oh, bollocks," he said, imitating me. "We'll still be able to keep watch up there."
"All right," I agreed, a scheme entering my head and bringing my loved smile to my face. "Let's go!" Without giving him any warning, but having fully warned my own self, I sped down the deck, headed for the ratlines to the mainmast.
"Hey!" cried Andre. "Foul! No fair!" I heard him thunder up behind me continuing to scream the indecency of me cheating and getting a head start, but I cared not.
Cackling like a mad witch, I leapt onto the ratlines and crawled my way up. I looked behind me and found Andre gaining progress, his superior nautical experience coming in quite handy. I though, would not give up without a fight.
I swiftly ascended up the lines, my one good eye focused on the topmost part of the mast. As my hands and feet securely stepped into each square hole in the rigging, I easily got used to the pattern and was not always sending looks of concern at my betraying and clumsy feet.
"Jack!" called Andre from below. "Bennett wants ta talk to ya!"
"Sure he does," I yelled in return. "I will not fall for such a fixed trick, Andre. Do you really expect me to believe that Bennett…" As I turned my head around to look back at him, he pointed a finger to the right. I traced the direction and sure enough, found Bennett and Roland looking up at us.
"You're lucky he intruded on our game," I snorted, all energy and excitement being drained from me as I prepared for some scolding lecture from Bennett. Sighing loudly through my nose, I climbed down and left Andre to reach the top of the mainmast first and win our race.
I hopped from the ratlines to the hard, wooden deck and calmly approached the quarterdeck where the two middies were waiting for me. "Sirs?" I asked as I made a halt but a few feet before them and positioned my feet together in fine, seaman discipline.
"You're amongst friends, Jack," said Roland. "Enough with the etiquette for a while. Bennett simply called you down to have a word with you." My one good eye immediately narrowed in on Bennett who stood expressionless beside Roland.
"I'm sure what he has to say can be said right here," I replied smartly. "After all, he's amongst friends."
He puffed up, taking in a large breath and exhaled noisily as his eyes locked on my own. If I weren't dressed as a man, I would have promptly marched up to him and slapped his face.
"Since you are so intent on having Roland participate in our clear dislike for each other, then I will acquiesce to your request," he returned tersely. Lifting his displeased stare, he faced Roland, determined to show me that he could and would tell Roland of our present argument.
"What's this about?" enquired Roland, his eyes shifting back and forth from me to Bennett.
"Bennett and I are on a bit of a… well…it's almost as bad as me with Griffith. We just can't seem to agree on anything," I said. Roland grinned, and I knew what he was thinking from his all too familiar smirk.
"Why are you doing this then? If ya hate one another's innards then leave each other the hell alone," advised Roland. Perhaps Bennett and I were too alike to agree on anything.
"Because I don't want another enemy!" we yelled simultaneously, and as soon as we heard the same words come from our mouths at the same moment, we whirred on each other, both our faces tight and unrelenting, and my mouth theoretically foaming with rage.
"I see…" yawned Roland. "Well then… I guess I'll just leave you two to work this out, eh? After all, I'm not the one under threat." Bennett's face twisted all the more and I only huffed as Roland treaded away to the other side of the quarterdeck and out of range of our voices.
"No one's gonna help us on this, Bennie," I said, calling him by an informal nickname just to peeve him. "Say your point and let me get back up to me spot at the mainmast. I don't care anymore. There will always be alliances, and well, I believe you are trying too hard to make sure you never get hurt on this ship. Isn't that right? Followin' in Griffith's dirty little steps. Ya don't know who half the lad is and you are tryin' to protect yourself by befriending simpletons like me."
"How would you even know that those are my honest intentions?" he countered. "Peace must be made or nothing will ever be accomplished. I need your compliance, Jack. Your rebellious attitude will not be tolerated by Captain Carlisle. I'm trying to help you. You don't know the half of Griffith that I know." That got me thinking, especially because it mentioned the captain and Griffith at the same time, the two men I did not want any further conflict with.
"Fine. Help me then. Just let me know when you are helping because sometimes I can't tell if you are protecting me or attacking me. You are very confusing, do you know that?"
"Well… now I do," he replied, sounding like more like the gentleman I pictured him to be. "So we have finally reached an agreement? A… treaty if you say?" He extended his arm for me to shake, and I eyed it suspiciously.
"Y-Yes," I said slowly, cautiously taking his hand. "And I believe I owe you my thanks. Doctor Cavanaugh said I would have had a broken nose if Griffith hit me one more time, so… yes, I guess I owe you then, Bennie." He winced at his horrid new nickname which I affectionately appointed to him for purposeful embarrassment.
"Please, Jack. I ask that you call me nothing but Bennett."
"All right, Gareth," I responded cheekily.
"Call me Bennett, Jack. Bennett. Not Gareth, and definitely not Bennie," he replied firmly. I frowned and looked up at him, though by the looks of it, I believed that we had finally established just the ever-so-slight brotherhood between us.
"All right," I said, "… Bennie." I laughed and he responded with a shake of his head.
"If you insist on calling me that, then I insist on calling you Jackass." My frown deepened.
"Oh, fine," I grumbled. "Call me Jackass and you'll have more than just Bennie as a name." I paused and added, "Perhaps I won't call ye Bennie. I'll dub ye… Benito!"