Chapter Twelve: Change of Course

My letter to Adam was never completed. In fact, I never wrote anything down which I really intended to send, for after silently listening to Bennett's continuous violin playing, he decided at that time to finally come to another agreement with me.

Although he had noticed me listening to the numerous songs he played for the sailors and probably for his own pleasure, he continued to take a pause between songs, rub his red neck where his violin was always seated and then resumed to slide the bow over the strings to make the lovely instrument hum. After about a half hour of musical air, he finally put his violin away, much to the sailors' disappointment, and seeing that the young midshipman was finished, the men began to disperse, except for me.

While Bennett was busy giving his instrument a good quick polish, he decided to address me in my Adam-centered mind. It took him nearly three times to finally penetrate my wall of memories and thoughts.

"You're awfully silent," he said, neither kindly nor angrily. He placed his violin carefully in its case and clasped the wooden box shut before looking at me directly.

I could feel his stare on my head, although I was staring at the floor, with my arms crossed and my back leaning against a wooden pole. "Don't tell me music is what finally gets you to shut up."

I was already in a very depressed state as it was, for Bennett's heartrending sea chanties about love and broken promises were greatly affecting me, and yet the young man had the nerve to try to sardonically make fun when it was evident I was in no mood for jest.

"Since you find my voice so annoying, then why do you request for me to speak?" I shot back, my legs growing weak and allowing for my back to slide down a bit on the pole.

"And you said I held a grudge too long," he said softly, as if I wouldn't hear him.

"I never held a grudge against you. If you recall, I attempted to make peace yesterday morning, but no; proud Mister Bennett does not bow down to stupid little ship's boys, now does he?"

With a huff and snarl, I folded my arms across my chest all the tighter and glowered at him. "Does that answer all of the questions you could possibly ask?"

"Yes…yes, it does," he replied, modestly bewildered at my sudden outburst of complaints. He even looked away and ran a hand through his hair, much as he had always done when he was nervous. "I'm… sorr—"

"I'm sorry," I said, before he could. "I tried to tell you that before, but you weren't willing to listen, so I decided I might as well get it out before you did. I don't even know why I am even apologizing."

"Because you lied excessively to me and therefore left me to question your credibility," he replied smartly.

"Do you find me credible at all?" I pressed, waiting impatiently for him to leave so that I could pour my heart and soul into words to a letter to my Adam and that was being far too delayed for my own pleasure.

"I don't quite know, Jack. I don't even know if you are a friend."

"Perhaps you just find it difficult to pick out what is the truth and what is the lie."

"Well, it'd be much easier if you did not lie as much as you tell the truth, if it is truth you say at all."

"You are just like—" I cut myself off, realizing that I was about to say, 'You are just like Adam.' But he would know who Adam was because he knew who Ian was. It was indeed a small world for me to come across a popular young man like Bennett who knew almost everyone I knew in Port Royal even though he had never gone there himself.

Like Adam, he was always suspicious—always thinking that I never told the truth when for the most part I was. Although my name was Jack and I had proclaimed myself a 'man' in Bennett's eyes, the majority of the stories I told him were mostly true. I had told him of my small run of bad luck with a certain boy named Matthew as a child, but I replaced my true name with Jack. And I had also informed him of when I got drunk for the first time, although I had changed the setting to an orphanage and had changed the papers about Jack to papers about the ancient pirate Blackbeard. So, in all due honesty, there was always some fact in my tales.

"I'm just like who?" he questioned, peering down at me.

"No one. Forget I said anything. Just a lass I once knew." There I went again with the lying. "Adelaide was her name. Thought I was always lying to her about everything."

"Were you?" he asked, seemingly on the verge of smiling.

"O' course not. She was a pretty thing. I'd do anything for her. Apparently, she never noticed that and that's exactly why I left."

"You're not much of a dedicated lover, are you, Jack?" I could feel my cheeks steadily growing warmer with every mentioning of women we made. Of course, I was making up a bunch of lies, for what else could I have talked about? Certainly not men. That would leave Bennett looking at me all queer for the rest of my life.

"Dedicated? Oh, I'm very dedicated. Just get too caught up in the next best thing that comes around and at that point, my dedication drops to an all time low." He managed a smirk at that.

I had never spoken to him seriously about our love relationships, but here was my chance. He had said before that he had no woman back home, but by his interest in the topic, I suspected that he was very eager to say something.

"I've been very fortunate with my relationships," he confessed, walking towards the guns and my makeshift table. He sat himself on one side and I slid into the booth opposite and stared back at him, waiting for him to continue. "I've really only had one, although I told you I have no lass waiting for me. I do."

"One, eh? Lucky man. Ya won't have to go through all the whines and wails of numerous lasses in a chain of broken hearts."

I knew what he was about to say next. Griffith had mentioned to me of the woman who he had desired since he was fourteen agreeing to marry him whenever he returned, and I was dying to find out who she was, what she looked like and her age just to make sure handsome young Bennie wasn't going to marry another version of Alexandra Westley.

"I suppose I am fortunate. Very fortunate. You see, back in Portsmouth, Griffith's father and mine would often meet at each other's mansions to negotiate dealings with their trade. Usually the whole Griffith family would arrive, on account of that our father's meetings were quite prolonged. That was how I managed to know Griffith so well. He and his family would constantly come by and vice a versa."

"So the Bennetts and the Griffiths date back to a long time, eh?" I asked, relaxing a bit since I was not required to speak any further about my own gender to a person of my opposite sex.

"Not too long. You see, Griffith has an older sister. His senior by one year." I nearly choked at that. There was a Lady Griffith? Girls were even crueler than lads and Griffith was already the worst young man on earth! How awful could his sister be?

"Sister? Are they alike? 'Cause, well, you know how Griffith is." Bennett laughed and shook his head.

"No. They are actually quite different. She is the one person who manages to control Griffith and yet she is not at all malicious."

"Looks can be deceiving, Ben," I warned.

"Oh, no need to worry, Jack. I've known her since I was a boy. I was lucky to have the opportunity to have her as a friend before having her as a suitor."

Suitor. The word rang mockingly in my ears, which was strange from the beginning, for I shouldn't have been jealous. I had my Adam of course, and well, many a lass back at home hated me for taking him.

"That's… good," I said, not entirely meaning it. I wanted him to say that Griffith's sister was a wench and monster, but he was too good-hearted. "What's her name?"

"Marie," he said, beaming at the angelic name. It did indeed sound like the perfect name for the most refined lady in the world. It wasn't rugged and hard on the tongue like foreign-sounding 'Astrid.' And it definitely could not be used in a derogatory manner, while I had been called Asstrid too many a time. "Marie Laura Griffith. She is my age, if you are wondering."

"Good match," I said through my clenching teeth. "Ya have a picture of her?"

He raised an eyebrow at me, most likely wondering, 'You'd better not travel to Portsmouth and take her away from me, you dastardly dog.' And I replied with my pert little grin.

"I do," he said. "Just a small portrait." He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a small, framed oval and gently handed it to me. I decided to take one glance at it, pick out everything that was wrong with her and then return it to Bennett with a smile. Though, as soon as I looked at it, my jaw dropped. There was nothing wrong with Marie Laura Griffith.

By the picture, she had the perfect white complexion and naturally rosy cheeks. Her nose was small and fine and her face was even and round. Her eyes were blue, like Griffith's and she had the same, dark curly hair as him as well, but she smiled a smile that was as dazzling as my dear Mum's.

I gave a moan inside and tossed the small portrait back to Bennett, clearly disappointed with myself. Here I was on a ship, dressed as a man, and worse, talking about women as if I was a man, in another man's company. No wonder no men were ever truly inspired to have me as a lifelong companion. I was wild and pretty, which was what men looked for if they wanted just one long night of inexplicable contentment. "She's a darlin'," I said, although I had the urge to gag it.

"Yes, isn't she?" replied Bennett proudly, taking the picture back and placing it safely into his coat pocket. "I heard that there is the possibility that we will change course as soon as we find out targeted ship."

"Where would we go?"

"To the Mediterranean. Possibly Egypt," said Bennett excitedly.

"Where's that?" I inquired, still clueless as to the location of all the countries in the world although I had stared at numerous atlases and maps for hours back in Port Royal.

"North Eastern Africa. A very interesting place based on what I've heard. Pyramids, tombs, obelisks. I can't wait until we get there."

"How long do you think it will possibly take?"

"Oh, perhaps five months or so. No longer, I don't think. It all depends on how quickly we find our French frigate in these waters. Or, if we find any pirates working for the French. We can't leave until we've completed just a bit of our mission. Captain wouldn't do that."

"How long are men usually on a ship for?"

"A year maybe. It all depends on what is required of them. I haven't set foot in Portsmouth for over five." With a false sigh to make it seem as if the conversation was boring me, I leaned back and stretched my arms.

"Not homesick either, aye?"

"No. Not really, save for Marie."

Oh, damn Marie, I thought. Our banter was again at a standstill, and wearily we tried to hopelessly keep our mouths spilling useless words. Or at least, that was what Bennett intended to do.

"I guess… I guess I'd call this another freedom from strife, wouldn't you say so, Jack?" he asked after our awkward minute long pause from speaking.

"Huh?" I replied, not understanding this "freedom from strife" concept.

"I mean, us talking again has ended any conflict, correct?" he returned, almost unsure himself. I shrugged and rudely brought my legs up to the table and happily crossed them on the tabletop, making Bennett lean back in utter repulsion.

"I deem so," I replied bluntly, tucking my arms behind my head.

"Would you still like some help becoming a better seaman?" he aroused, looking honestly at me. I switched my eyes so that I returned his stare, and I managed to hold his rather abnormally blue eyes for more than ten seconds, which was a great improvement.

"I'd like that. Hell, Bennie, I need all the help I can get."

"Well, I'd be honored to help you then." He stood up and leaned over the table, his arm extended for a shake. Hesitantly, I looked from him to his hand and slowly removed my limbs from the tabletop. Reaching over, I grasped his hand and squeezed it tight, which was another thing that caught him by surprise.

"And I feel honored to be put under your wing. Anything you'd like to say now before the work begins?" I asked, breaking the sign of agreement.

"There is one thing, Jack," began Bennett. "Never put your feet on top of a table again."

"What does that have to do with anything?" I wondered aloud, placing my hands on my hips.

"If you are going to be an able seaman one day, Jack, you must remember that just because you are not an officer does not mean you can live a maritime life without rules. There is such thing as decorum."

"I have a bad feeling this will be a lot of work," I murmured, suddenly taking note of the blank letter to my Adam. I had been so occupied with Bennett that I had completely forgotten about it. "Hey, Bennie," I said, tapping him gently on the shoulder with my forefinger.

"Yes, Jack?"

"Do you know anything about writing letters?"

My legs were aching from the day's drill. Bennett made sure that I was always productive, and therefore made me run back and forth from the magazine to the batteries to deliver the gun cartridges to the firing crew. And while I was panting and heaving the explosive ammunition, Will and Dan took advantage of my sudden energy and decided to be lazy bastards and have me do all their bloody work. It was not at all to my liking, and by the end of the drill, I was panting and sweating like a race horse all because of Bennett's constant shouting of orders.

Thankfully, we were done with our drills, and now I was pleasantly on the Afternoon Watch, again under the supervision of Bennett. It had been a couple of weeks since we had had our peacemaking done and things were going quite well between us. But amidst it all, I always noticed that while Bennett and I developed a greater friendship, my own partnership with Roland was dwindling rapidly. The only time we ever talked to one another was if he was giving me orders or during our lessons with Dr. Cavanaugh. Other than that, there was nothing, and I missed my brother. Of course, Bennett was a fine and lovely lad to be around with, and I always had Dobbin and Andre, but Roland understood me better than any of them. Plus, I could talk or write to him about my odd run-ins with Lonan. But he was never there for me to talk to.

On watch though, Bennett gave me little time to think to myself and was still painfully determined to bombard me with exercises. Up the ratlines and down. Do this, do that. And he even sent me to inform the captain of the weather. I found it incredibly stupid, not to mention embarrassing, for after I had barged into Captain Carlisle's cabin very inelegantly with a rushed salute screaming out, "Fair winds, sir! Fair winds!" he merely sat at his desk, staring at me with a most amused and befuddled face. After several minutes of quaint silence, I clumsily exited with my fore-knuckle to my brow, and I knew Captain Carlisle was still stunned as I left.

When I returned from my weather report to the captain, I found Bennett promptly waiting for me at the larboard bow of the ship, his face pinching in an undecipherable mix of God knows what. He looked happy to see me, but his brows were knitted somewhat forcefully with deep concentration. Wondering what on earth he was thinking, but slightly agitated that he did not praise me for completing yet another simple and humiliating task, I sighed noisily and stuck my hands on my hips, glaring at him. "Bennett, why the hell did you make me tell the captain of our 'fair winds'?" His face contorted all the more, and he sucked in a breath, only to choke on it and explode into laughter.

"Damn you, Bennett!" I yelled, punching his arm as he continued to cackle uncontrollably. The lad even needed to hug his giggling innards to keep himself from completely collapsing onto the deck in a mess of wheezes and snickers.

"I'm…"—More laughter—"S-Sorr…"—Even more laughter—"-ee…"—More laughter—"Jack, I couldn't'…"—All the more ridiculous laughter—"…resist."

"Oh, jus' 'cause I'm a gullible dope permits you to trick me?" I demanded, so tempted to slap his face so that he'd stop, but I had to admit, I was on the verge of smiling myself at his oh-so-clever joke.

"You were just so obedient. I decided to take advantage of that." His laughs were finally ebbing and he was down to soft titters.

"Lovely, ya arsehole," I griped sarcastically, whacking his top hat off his head. That finally grabbed his attention and he looked at me suddenly, eyes wide and ablaze with excitement and jocularity.

"Did you just knock my hat off, Jack?" He took a daring step forward towards me. I stiffened my jaw and held my head high in the air very arrogantly.

"I did," I replied proudly.

"Well then," he said calmly, the wild white glimmer in his eyes vanishing, "that doesn't give me much incentive to fight fairly, now does it?"

Rapidly, he slapped my own hat off with his arm and while I was distracted with my dear pirate hat being cast away to the floor, he sped off like a bullet to escape my rising desire to obtain vengeance for my poor hat. "You bastard!" I cried, speeding after him fore and aft.

Despite my excessive training earlier that day, I caught up with him and leapt onto his back, playfully beating his shoulders. While he replied to my teasing acts of violence with fake ows and scowls, our fun was suddenly annihilated with a ferocious yell coming from the helm.

"What is going on here?" shouted a man from behind us. Bennett and I immediately stopped our fooling and turned around to confront the man what interrupted our fun. I was having such a good time, too.

It was First Lieutenant Thorne and he and his smelly white wig came marching towards us with bloody fire in his eyes. "Mister Bennett," he said fiercely through his grinding teeth, "What was that mongrel doing on your back?" Stunned, Bennett took an awkward glance at me and I only growled inside for Thorne calling me a damn mongrel.

"I wasn't hurt, sir," said Bennett. "We were just playing and—"

"Playing?" squawked Thorne. "You are a very successful midshipman of seventeen and you and this boy were playing? Both of you are on watch! What do you think this ship is? A pleasurable yacht ride?" spat Thorne, pointing a stiff finger at me and my shocked countenance.

"Apologies then, sir," said Bennett solemnly. "It won't happen again. I am to supervise Barlow here on becoming a better seaman, as commanded by the captain." Thorne arched an eyebrow and stared questioningly at me and then back to Bennie.

"Don't allow him the freedom of fun. Beat him to the ground until he has no other choice but to stand up." With a huff and final glower at me, he turned on his heal and returned to his post beside the coxswain, and I looked daggers to his back.

"Bloody little cad," I mumbled. "Can't the man understand that we're still little wee boys an' that we must have some excitement on this boring ol' ship?" I looked up at Bennett and he looked away, suddenly reminded of his duty. "Oh, don't let Thorne get to ye, mate. He's just old and he don't remember what it's like to be a lad."

"No, Jack. He's right. We all have our duties, and he is also correct in the process of your reform. I must break you down until you have no other choice but to rise." He took in a breath and looked to the horizon instead of me. "Up the topgallant and back… now," he ordered. Bewildered and gawking at him, I was pulled to do my duty and reluctantly scurried up the lines and back down again in double time.

I was famished by the time we were given our supper. I didn't get the chance to finish my dinner, on account of the fact that Bennie had drilled me some more, and therefore my stomach was empty and growling louder than a rabid dog by the time the bell was rung for us to head down to the galley.

The usual portion of stew and hardtack, I eagerly seized and gobbled down, which was surprising because about three months ago, I wouldn't have eaten half of it. Like Andre and almost every other sailor on the ship, I had developed the habit of tapping the rock-hard biscuit on the tables to get the damn bugs out, and certainly a few would fly out, but they were gone from the food, and that made it good enough to eat after barely eating anything the whole day.

My sea biscuits had been demolished into tiny crumbs on my square wooden dish, and all that was left of my stew was the brownish gravy pooling together in the center of the tray. With a shrug, I lifted the tray up to my face and was about to lick the sauce off when I heard a gentle, "Might I join you?" enter my left ear. I froze and looked up, my tongue already out to lick to gravy when I saw Roland welcoming himself to a seat opposite me.

"Go ahead," I said, neither welcoming nor hostile. Knowing it was just him I was around, I licked the sauce off and, with that done, finally looked him in the eye.

He didn't seem to look very happy at all. His light brown eyes had that grayness about them again and he looked rather pale and hollow. Poor brother. My sisterly urgencies were itching to come out and hold him and make him smile again, but I was not a sister on the ship. I was a brother, and I did not really know how to cheer up Roland in a brotherly manner. He remained taciturn for a few minutes before finally returning my glance and he did not look the least bit happy.

"I found this in your sea chest," he said quietly, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a yellow envelope. I wondered why he was even looking through my things and I took it that it was the only way for him to be informed of what was going on in my life, for it was clear that he was dreadfully concerned about me.

"It's a letter I wrote," I said softly. "To Adam." There was silence after that, and I pushed the letter back to him with faint timidity, fearing that he'd suddenly explode and rip it to shreds.

With a jolt, he pursed his lips and banged his fist on the table, giving me one hell of a shock. "What were you thinking when you decided to write it?" he demanded, his eyes now brewing with some sort of storm. This Roland was truly different from the one I knew. He was more like Daddy. Kind when he needed to be and absolutely furious when things demanded ferocity.

"What? I can't go out to sea without know how my family—"

"Jack," he interrupted. "You cannot write letters to people you know."

"And why not?" I challenged, grabbing the letter on the table and stuffing it in my vest.

"Have you gone back to being a simpleton, Jack? Adam would tell them where you are. Where we are. And you'd be off home before you know it."

"He wouldn't do that," I protested. "He's honest. If I tell him to keep a secret, he keeps it. I trust him."

"Just how you trust Bennett?" he mocked. My face was beginning to grow hot with anger and I felt my eyes burning with acid tears.

"What does he have to do with anything?" I yelled, feeling my face trembling with the need to cry.

"Much," he answered bitterly, closing his lips and sucking at his teeth as he looked away. "You've gone completely against us, Jack," he said petulantly. "Taking Bennett's side. You never talk to us anymore. Even Andre's getting a bit peeved and you're his bunkmate. And if you're takin' Bennett's side, well, you're takin' Griffith's side, too."

"I am not!" I objected, about to rise from my seat in heated dispute. "All of you never take the time to talk to me jus' 'cause I'm with Bennett. He's teachin' me to be a better seaman, that's all. Ya can still find me in the rigging and talk. But ye don't do any of that."

"We could have taught you those things if you just asked!" bellowed Roland, actually rising from his seat and shouting out everything on his mind once and for all. "Why the hell did you need to go to Bennett? My God, Jack, we're the best mates you can possibly have on this ship!"

"It was under the captain's orders, Roland!" I returned, slapping my hands on the table. "Captain's orders. I didn't choose so stop telling me that—"

"Fine!" he burst. "Ya don't want our help, that's fine. We'll see where you end up when Griffith frames you for something and Bennett doesn't bail you out. We'll see who was right and who was wrong, Jack. We'll see."

"If you remember correctly, you decided to come along! I didn't make the decision for you!" I called as he got up and stalked down the deck, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed. He continued walking, ignoring my cry. "Roland!" I stomped towards him, hurrying my steps so that he wouldn't be out of reach. I reached out to grab his shoulder but he shoved me off.

"Fine!" I wailed, feeling something wet slide down my face. "I don't need yer help anyway! I'll be fine on me own, ya careless bastard!" Whirling around and tromping over to my hammock, I swiftly wiped my face with my sleeve before anybody else saw me sniveling.

"Jack!" came a call.

I did not heed it.

"Jack!" it came again, and I felt someone poke my shoulder. "I've got good news… Jack?" A hand grabbed my own and tried to lift it from my weeping face, but I pulled it away, knowing that I would have appeared too much of a fairy if Bennett saw that I was crying.

"I'm tired, Bennett," I replied without trying to sob. "Leave me alone. Tell me tomorrow."

"Oh, c'mon, Jack." He sent a playful punch to my shoulder.

"Bennie, I'm in no mood to—"

"Captain says we're going to Portsmouth! He's supposed to meet the admiral there for new orders, even though we haven't destroyed our enemy yet, but we will. There's the possibility that we'll be going to—"

"Look, Bennett!" I screamed finally revealing my wet face to him. "I'm in a bit of a dilemma right now and I don't need you to tell me we're changing course! Of course we are, for God's sake! We can't sail around the bloody Caribbean forever, now can we?" I left it at that and plunged my face back into my arms and closed my eyes, wishing that Bennett would appease me and leave. And the lad was smart enough to do so.