by Vivienne Cox
“Well, it’s just that…” James’s voice trailed off.
“Why, James?”
“I thought that… You… We…” he faltered, then burst out angrily, “Dammit Alexander, you know perfectly well what I thought. Now just laugh at me for a fool and be done with it.”
Alexander rose to his feet and stood looking down for a long moment, but James would not meet his eyes. “You’re no fool, James,” he said at last, quietly, “it’s just that you haven’t thought it through. You see, love, it’s not where we are, it’s who we are.” And he turned and walked down to the sea and stood motionless, staring out at the horizon.
“It’s not where we are, it’s who we are.” The words hung in the air, making breathing painful. James dropped his head in his hands. Time passed. Humiliation threatened to become anger – but with whom? With himself? Of course, but that served no purpose, now. With Alexander?
“It’s not where we are, it’s who we are.” What did it mean? All he had wanted was to keep his love safe and near him and… caged. The word repeated itself : caged…. Trapped in Port Merrian….“It’s not where we are,”
He looked at Alexander, who now was feeding the gulls by tossing bits of biscuit up and laughing as they, swooping and shrieking with excitement, snatched them out of air. Quicksilver, free spirit, ungovernable Alexander – his Alexander. “…it’s who we are.”
He walked down to the water’s edge and Alexander turned to him smiling, dusting crumbs from his fingers and shooing the last importunate gulls away. A moment they stood and James slowly smiled back. “Alexander, I…”
“Hush, love,” Alexander shushed him.
“No, I will say it. I was a fool, forgive me?”
“Nothing to forgive, James. It’s forgotten,” said Alexander giving him a quick kiss. “Now, what say you to some wine before dinner, ay?” And he drew forth from his coat pocket, with a flourish worthy of a conjurer, a bottle of James’s precious wine. “Nicked it while you weren’t looking,” he said, with simple pride.
A instant only James hesitated, and then burst out laughing. “Good of you to share it with me, you scoundrel.”
“Isn’t it?” Alexander concurred, as he led the way up the beach. “What have we to eat? I’m famished.”
* * *
Next morning at dawn, they stood on the deck of the Gull. Camp was broken, gear was stowed.
Goodbyes had been said - without words - in the night.
“Well, Alexander.”
“Well, James.”
“Take care of yourself. See that you confine yourself in truth to the Spaniards, or we shall have trouble. And watch out for Gillette.”
“Oh, I’ll watch out for him, alright. He’s got a lesson or two yet to learn about pirate-hunting, I’d say.”
“Rash, Cruise, you are too rash. I have always said so.”
“Aye, it’s part of my irresistible charm, mate, admit it.” And they laughed.
Alexander stepped across to his boat (Thomas simply refused to call her the Elizabeth), and they each hauled anchor and made ready to sail. A short way they sailed south, side by side, until they were clear of the bay. Thomas glanced across, now and again, to the other boat, but Alexander’s eyes were fixed on the horizon. And so it would ever be, James thought with a smile. Then, with a wave, Thomas headed east into the rising sun and Alexander turned west Came a shout over the water, faint but clear, “My thanks for the gift of the wine, mate. I’ve left you two bottles to get home on. My advice is to stock a bit more of it next time.” And Thomas laughed.
Also by Vivienne Cox
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