by Catt Ford
The doctor didn’t ask for an explanation, nor did he seem interested in how Henry had come by the burn. Henry started to explain, but Dingo nudged him into silence, shaking his head slightly. After the doctor dressed the wound and gave Henry supplies for the several days he would have to tend to it, they left, Dingo leading the way to the bridge.
“We can’t go up there,” Henry stammered. “The captain—”
“Sure we can,” Dingo said. “The captain’s my mate.”
“Another one?” The man apparently even knew people in territorial waters! “Did you go to school with him too?”
“Only met him this morning,” Dingo said, and he winked. “Sometimes that’s all it takes.”
“And why did you—”
“If Hodges tries to make a stink, this way the captain already knows me, see? And he’s less likely to buy whatever flotsam or jetsam that Hodges has to peddle. Besides, it’s quieter up here. And we’ll be able to see if anyone’s coming.”
Henry followed Dingo up the steep stairs, studiously keeping his eyes off the tempting bum at eye level. If Hodges had already noticed his interest, better not to provide him with more ammunition. A sudden appalling thought struck Henry: what if Hodges sought Dingo out and told him of his suspicions?
“Feeling a bit queasy again, Dash?”
Henry looked up to find Dingo eyeing him uneasily. “Do I look green?”
“A bit.”
“I’m fine.”
“If you say so.” Dingo lifted his hand in greeting to the captain, who remained inside the glassed-in bridge.
Henry could see why; the wind whipped at them savagely, the freezing chill making his wound burn anew by contrast.
“What was Hodges saying to you?” Dingo’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but Henry knew it wasn’t him that Dingo feared.
“He found out my real name.”
“Well, you expected that. And?”
“He said he knew we weren’t going after diamonds.” Henry stared as Dingo began to laugh. “What’s so funny? I could use a chuckle.”
Smugly, Dingo said, “If he found the map I left in our cabin, with cryptic markings on them, signifying diamonds had been found there, he was trying to get you to tell him something different.”
“You planted—a false map—” Henry felt dazed that Dingo would have contrived such an intricate red herring. “You knew he was going to go through our things?”
“It didn’t surprise me to find that he would. I just didn’t realize what a dirty scum he really is. To go through another gentleman’s things—What have I said to set you off?” Dingo asked, puzzled by Henry’s sudden shout of laughter.
Henry shook his head, unable to explain why he found it amusing that Dingo, of all people, should have the scruples of a gentleman after all his trickery with Hodges. But those were mere pranks, compared to violating one’s sanctuary. “Go on.”
“You go on, what did you say to him?”
“I told him Dash was my nickname, and that if he thought he knew so much, he should tell me what he’d found out.”
“Didn’t know you had it in you, Dash,” Dingo said approvingly. “Or rather, I did, I just didn’t know you knew.”
For the first time that morning, Henry felt proud of himself, but the feeling faded when he recalled what had really happened between him and Hodges. There was no possible way he could confide what had really happened and the extent of the physical assault. The burn was humiliating enough. “He took me by surprise—” he started.
“He must be getting desperate. He’s escalating. I’d heard rumors—” A faint look of distaste flitted across Dingo’s face. “He’s always been ruthless, but he’s stayed within the confines of the law until now. I think we’d best be prepared for anything with that one.”
“What rumors?”
Dingo gave Henry a sidelong glance. “You don’t want to know. Let’s just say it’s been said his methods are—unsavory.”
“So where were you while he was questioning me?”
Dingo gave Henry a smug look. “I was searching his room.”
“Hey! And you’re complaining about him doing the same thing!” Henry pointed out.
“Turnabout is fair play, and he started it,” Dingo said, his lips a bit grim. “He went into ours after you left it, and I thought there’d never be a safer time to nip into his.”
“And what did you find?”
“A photograph,” Dingo said. All at once he looked terribly worried. “A blurry photograph. You might have thought it was just the grass casting a shadow, but….” He shook his head as if to clear it.
“Of Tassie,” Henry whispered, feeling a shiver pass over his body.
“I’m afraid so. Someone has been passing information to the government, and Hodges is hot on the trail. You know what this means, Dash, don’t you?”
A slow smile crept over Henry’s lips, and he was glad to see the same glow ignite in Dingo’s eyes. “Someone’s tracking a living thylacine on Tasmania.”
“Maybe even more than one. And Hodges knows it.”
Both men started as the door of the bridge was flung open. The captain, a bluff man with a red face and fierce ginger moustaches, cried out, “Dingo, I never knew such a fellow for standing about in a gale. Get your arse in here and warm it up!”
“Aye aye, sir!” Dingo said smartly. He gave Henry another wink. “Captain Ahab, this is my friend Dash.”
“Dash and Dingo!” The captain laughed immoderately. “You should be a vaudeville team. Can you dance?”
“And sing,” Dingo averred as they followed the captain inside.
“That wouldn’t surprise me a bit, mate,” said the captain affably.
In the small cabin of the bridge, Henry couldn’t help himself and asked anyway, “Your name isn’t really Ahab, is it, Captain?”
The man laughed so hard it seemed the bridge shook around them. “No, Dash. It’s Francis. Although you could say at times this big lumbering lady is the equivalent of my white whale.”
His tone of voice suggested that he thought of the Taroona as anything but. It was a rare captain indeed who didn’t love his ship more than anything. He turned back to the crew and left the two men to find their own entertainment.
“Why are we up here, Dingo?” Henry asked in a low voice as he took the man aside.
“No safer place than the captain’s bridge on a boat,” Dingo replied with a smile plastered to his face that seemed slightly forced.
“Are you expecting the ship to go down?” Henry asked. “Or are we in danger from something else?”
Dingo pursed his lips, as if he wanted to tell Henry but felt he shouldn’t.
Henry continued on, now feeling rather mutinous. “If it is Hodges you’re talking about, and he’s already searched our cabins, should we really be leaving our belongings unattended for him to do a second look-see?”
Dingo finally relented. “I left him a few more clues so he wouldn’t get too suspicious if he does. But the important stuff is on me.”
Henry glanced over him; he wasn’t carrying a bag. “Where?”
He almost had to drop his gaze when without shame or preamble, Dingo ripped his shirt open. The press studs came apart easily, as if they had been designed especially for this purpose. Nestled amongst the golden hairs of Dingo’s chest was a small waterproof pouch with a cord that was knotted around his neck. Dingo reached into the pouch and pulled the cord so that it would open fully. Henry leaned in, so close he could feel the warmth of Dingo’s skin emanating toward him. A few more inches and his nose would have been tickled by the hairs on Dingo’s chest. Within the pouch were the maps, the notes, and the photographs Henry and Dingo had mulled over so many times to the point they almost didn’t need them as they were practically memorized.
“Oh,” Henry said stiffly. “I see. Well hidden.”
Dingo smirked as he fastened his shirt up again.
Show-off, Henry thought, glowering. But all he said was,
“Clues?”
“I left some other… misleading documents for him to find. Hopefully he’ll be on his way to the other end of Tassie as soon as we get there. Like Burnie.”
Henry was surprised by the flash of anger he felt briefly erupt within him. “Hodges isn’t stupid. He’s going to be watching us so he can follow us, even if he does take note of the false clues you’ve made.”
Dingo seemed disturbed by Henry’s vehement response and even a little upset. “Dash—”
“You have to stop thinking of this as a game. It’s not a game, this thing with Hodges. Not anymore.”
“It never was,” Dingo said grimly, lost in memory for a moment.
Henry watched him, expecting more to the story, but Dingo shook it off. The other man looked at him, seeming at a loss for words. Henry didn’t like it; he was used to Dingo being cocky and funny, being everybody’s best friend.
“Dingo—”
“He hurt you, and I’m sorry,” Dingo said softly.
“It wasn’t that bad, really—”
“I know you might think I don’t take him seriously. But I do. I just joke around because… well, it’s the only way I can treat it. I’ve seen him do a lot of bad things—”
“Bad things?” Henry breathed, not liking the sound of that. The small burn on his wrist throbbed, making him aware once more of its existence.
Dingo only nodded and didn’t elaborate. “Sometimes I’ve had to do bad things to stop him. I was stupid to think he wouldn’t go after you, to try and get to me.”
“But why would he think using me would get to you?”
Exasperated, Dingo threw his hands in the air. “Because he knows the last thing in the world I would want is for you to get hurt! Dad was right; you shouldn’t have come.”
For the second time that day, Henry felt assaulted. But this was even worse than Hodges’s molestation of him and even more painful than the burn of the cigarette. Dingo’s words were a heavier, more painful, brand. And this time against a far more sensitive part of his body, because it was across his heart.
“You don’t want me here?” Henry asked, having had to swallow painfully in order to get the words out. “If you think I can’t keep up, I don’t have to get off the boat; I can go back to Melbourne.”
“I didn’t say that,” Dingo began.
“Land ahead!” boomed the captain, and the crew began clapping as another safe journey across the sea came to an end.
Henry turned away from Dingo, glad for the excuse. The far greener land of Tasmania, a marked difference to what he had seen of the rest of Australia, shimmered on the horizon. He could imagine it to be a part of England, if he were so inclined. He could feel Dingo behind him, and he wanted him to say something to defend himself or to take it back, but the other man didn’t speak.
“I’m going back to the cabin,” Henry said, turning back to face him. “We’ll be disembarking soon. We should be packed.”
“Dash—”
Henry couldn’t give him the chance to say anything else; he had to get out of there now. As he got to the door, he heard Dingo speak once more.
“Henry, please—”
Even the use of his real name, spoken so plaintively, couldn’t stop him.
Henry pushed his way out through the door and made his way back to their cabin.
Henry wasn’t left to himself for very long; he was only beginning to pack up what few clothes had been left lying about when the door to their cabin opened and Dingo entered.
He didn’t try to speak, sensing that Henry wasn’t going to put up with any attempts at cajoling him. They worked in silence, packing and tidying up the small cabin together. It didn’t take them very long at all.
“How long are you planning on giving me the cold shoulder?” Dingo finally asked.
Henry looked at him fully in the eye for the first time since they had left the bridge. “I don’t know; what do you think is an appropriate time?”
“I think time’s up,” Dingo said brusquely.
Henry shrugged and peered out the porthole. They were still only sliding into port; heaven knew how much longer this ship could take to berth. “If you say so. After all, you’re in charge.”
“Dammit to hell!” Dingo clenched his fists against his sides. “This is a partnership, Dash.”
The word burned Henry like no other. He snorted derisively.
“What was that for?” Dingo demanded.
“Nothing.”
“It didn’t sound like nothing. It sounded like a whole lot of something. What’s up your arse?”
Henry’s mouth dropped open, and he fumbled for words. What eventually came out sounded stupid even to him. “You used your personal magnetism as a tool to get on the captain’s good side!”
Dingo hooted with laughter. “Personal magnetism? Listen to you!” He stopped laughing when he saw Henry’s expression.
“You use your personal magnetism to get on everybody’s side,” Henry grumbled.
“I also use it to get on your side,” Dingo replied in a low tone. “Fat lot of nothing it gets me.”
Henry opened his mouth to speak, but Dingo quickly continued.
“Do you stop using your brain out of fairness if you’re smarter than your adversary? You have to play the hand you’re dealt, Dash.”
“You don’t know how you—you—affect other people,” Henry blurted.
There was a moment of silence before Dingo asked, “Do you?” Before it got too uncomfortable once again, he added, “Does anyone? Look, have you finished packing? If you haven’t, I can do it for you.”
“It’s done. And I’m not a cripple, Dingo, it’s just a tiny burn,” Henry replied shortly, expecting Dingo to take the piss with him. Instead he looked up to find Dingo glancing at him with concern.
“I just hate what Hodges did to you,” Dingo said finally.
With their eyes locked together, the burning sensation from his wrist seemed to flow throughout Henry’s body, centering on his groin. The way Dingo was staring at him, his eyes like glowing embers, ignited some deeply hidden source of courage in Henry, and damn it all, this time he would find out whether—
Without giving himself time to think or to talk himself out of his rash impulse, Henry charged across the cabin and pushed Dingo up against the wall. His first attempt was clumsy, and his kiss landed on the corner of Dingo’s mouth, but miraculously Dingo’s hands came up, clasping him around the waist, and Dingo was actually helping!
And then Henry melted under the heat of Dingo’s warm mouth, lips seeking his, hot tongue thrusting into his mouth, claiming him….
His knees went weak, but Henry pressed himself fully against Dingo, feeling an answering surge and a delicious hardness against his thigh. Grinding mindlessly against Dingo, Henry lost all sense of where they were or what they were doing. Dingo’s mouth demanded everything from him; he sucked air urgently through his nose, his mind wanting very much to live to find out how this had happened while his body was on fire with sensation.
From the way Dingo was pressing against him, it seemed that he wanted this too.
“Dash…” Dingo said breathlessly, “I mean, Henry—”
“I like it when you call me Dash.”
“Dash—”
“Dingo, just be quiet for once and let me—”
Henry was dizzy with triumph and lust and something else as he reclaimed Dingo’s mouth for his own, and then he was just dizzy as with blinding speed, Dingo reversed their positions, using his weight and muscle as a welcome prison, pinning Henry against the wall.
Dingo’s eyes were alight with mischief, his lips shining and swollen as he gave a low laugh, but Henry didn’t feel as if he was being made fun of. “Well, well, well, Dash, who’d have thought you’d have such a tiger in you?”
Henry felt absurdly proud of himself even as he started to mumble the usual apologies.
Dingo dropped a tiny kiss on his lips to shut him up. “Nothing to be sorry for, Dash.”
Henry blundered into incoherent speech. “I never thought—I’m sorry—It’s just that—I never—He said he couldn’t imagine why you—”
“Who said?” Dingo snapped, but he didn’t release his hold on Henry.
“Hodges—he said, I wasn’t good enough—not tough enough—that you and Hank made a mistake choosing me—”
“Christ, he knows that too?”
Dingo’s exclamation made Henry flinch, but he said, “He implied it, yes.”
“That explains a bit.”
Despite Dingo’s frown, Henry couldn’t help but enjoy the fact that Dingo had made no attempt to pull away, his arms still holding Henry close. Rather, Dingo’s hips seemed be rotating against his in a most distracting way.
“What does it explain?”
“Why he’s always right in my shadow since my dad stopped coming over here. He tried it first with Gordon, trying to get in his good books, but Gordon had already been warned about him by my dad. I always thought there was a bit more to it than his obsession with seeing Tassie exterminated. After all, the government has done its work all too well; it’s harder to find a thylacine alive in order to make an end of them than—”
Dingo stopped and shook his head. At the same time they felt the motors below their feet shudder into a lull. “We have to get off this boat. It’s my bet that Hodges will head straight for the zoo, expecting that I’ll be taking you there. We have to meet Jarrah, and then it’s off into the wilds for us, my lad.”
Henry tried to pull himself out of Dingo’s grasp and was disappointed when the other man released him instantly. Hating himself for how he knew this was going to sound, he asked, “Who is Jarrah?”
Dingo tossed him a grin as he bent to his own packing. “One of those fearsome Aborigines I was telling our fair Diana about. Of course, that’s the only thing about him that anyone ever takes notice of. And before you get your knickers in a twist, he’s a friend.”
Henry caught the bitter undertone beneath his first couple of sentences and wondered just how much this Jarrah meant to Dingo. And if he were handsome. “What do we need Jarrah for?”