Brant struggled with what to tell him. He was only six years old and he would likely grow up just the way the Commodore wanted, but he hated lying to the young boy. “It’s so much fun. We play lots of games and learn lots of interesting stuff.”
”I can’t wait to go to school, Brant. Papa makes me learn boring stuff like my letters and he gets angry when I forget, but I try so hard.”
“I’m sure you’re doing a great job. Father just wants to make sure you do really well.”
James smiled up at his big brother and leapt towards him, wrapping his small arms around Brant's much larger frame and squeezing him with what seemed like every ounce of strength in the six-year-old's body. The poor boy was starved for affection, and as much as he wanted his little brother to be happy, he couldn’t help but feel that James was the reason his mother had died and had left him in this mess of a life. But James didn’t deserve to be blamed and Brant knew that, it was just an impulse that occasionally reared its ugly head and Brant was forced to fight it off.
“I uh, am glad to see you again, James. I have to go for a walk," he said, gently peeling the boy off of him. He needed air.
“Can I come?” he asked eagerly, bouncing along at Brant’s side as he walked towards to front door. His coat was hanging on the tree there and he grabbed it off while James jumped, trying to reach his.
Brant desperately wanted to go for a smoke but he couldn’t very well do that in front of James. The Commodore smoked, most men did, but he would have been angry to know Brant had started. Smoking was a privilege reserved for men, not young boys. But he was disappointing his father at every turn, why not add smoking to the long list of transgressions?
“Sure, you can.” Brant reached up and got his brother’s coat for him. The small boy shrugged into it and struggled with the buttons.
“Here, let me help.”
“I can do it.”
“I’m not going to wait all night for you,” teased Brant.
James got a stubborn look on his face, jutted out his tongue from between his teeth and slowly but surely got the buttons done up.
James jabbered the whole time they were walking while Brant responded with only the occasional “yes”, “no” or “wow” to let his younger brother know he was still listening.
He pulled out a cigarette but James didn’t seem to notice. Smoking one after another as his brother regaled him with tales. It wasn't until they turned back towards the house that Brant noticed James was shivering.
“Are you cold?”
“A little.”
“You should have let me know. Come on let’s get back and I’ll see if Maggie can brew you some hot cocoa.”
“Papa doesn't allow me to drink hot cocoa. He says it's bad for me.”
Brant frowned. How could his father not allow James the simple pleasure of a hot treat? Some of his fondest winter memories were of drinking steaming cups of hot cocoa in front of a roaring fireplace. “That's nonsense. Hot cocoa makes young boys grow up extra handsome. I'm sure Maggie will make you some if I ask her.”
The boys walked back into the house, Brant helping James hang his jacket on the much too tall coat tree and then leading him into the kitchen where Maggie was busy cleaning up for the end of the day.
“Hello, Maggie. Do you think James here could get a cup of hot cocoa? I'm afraid I kept him out in the cold a little too long.”
“Ach! James me dear you take a seat there next to the fire and I'll have you a cup of steaming hot love brewed in not but a jiffy.”
James smiled and sat down on the floor cross legged in front of the fire. Maggie had water boiling in minutes, having dropped everything she was doing to look after the young boy. As James sipped his drink Maggie sat down with Brant at a small table and handed him a cup of tea. “How be school, Brant?”
“It's everything you would expect, I suppose, and everything I don't want. It's my father's idea of a good education so I suppose I should be thankful.”
“Your father ain't so bad. He's had it hard most of his life... those short years he had Suzanne were the only good ones.”
“Shouldn't James and I be enough for him?”
“He don't know how to handle young boys. His whole experience with authority is his years in the navy. Your mother, bless her heart, was the one that told him how to handle you.”
“How's James doing with him?”
“James don't know your father as anything other than the man he is today so he don't see anything wrong. Things are just the way things are. He's a good boy.”
Brant nodded. “Thanks for the tea, Maggie. I think it's about time James got to bed though. I'm going to go find Josie and have her see to him.”
“It sure is good to see you here again, Brant. I sure wish you'd smile like you used to. You're too young to have such a sad face.”
Brant offered a smile, attempting a show at happiness for the old maid. She'd been around as long as Brant could remember and always had a smile or kind advice to offer when it was requested.
Brant left James in the kitchen as he went in search of Josie, James' nanny. She had been Brant's nanny as well, many years ago. She was a kind woman, and loved both boys dearly. Brant often wondered why she never left and found a nice man and settled down to have a family of her own but he suspected it would break her heart to leave James behind.
Brant lay in bed that night staring at the ceiling. He'd always thought that it was only a matter of time before his life held sails and endless water, but after today he wasn't sure he could leave. He felt responsible for James; could he leave him here alone and never look back? Brant knew that if he left he couldn't come back for years. James would be grown up by the time he saw him again. Was that something he could live with?
Brant fell asleep amid tumultuous thoughts of running away to the ocean or staying and living up to his father's dreams so that he could be an older brother to James. It wasn't a decision he could make in one day, or even in one lifetime. He had a month minus a day before school started. Brant knew that by the end of that time a decision had to be made. If he went back to school that would be it. If his father won this time around it would likely never change.
Chapter Three
Christmas morning was no different than any other morning at home. The two boys and their father had breakfast together and then Calvin went into London to attend to business of some kind. Nothing stopped for the Commodore. Work, work, work every day and that was all that mattered.
James and Brant spent a lot of time together. Going for walks, rides, or working on James’ schooling. Often, after their walks, they’d enjoy hot cocoa in the kitchen while Maggie prepared dinner. Brant had to admit that when his father wasn’t around, he was really enjoying being home.
On December 27th, Leo rode up on his large standardbred stallion. Markus took the horse and led him away to the stables while Leo strode across the yard towards the large house. Brant, who had noticed his arrival, walked down the steps to meet his friend who was pulling off his gloves and blowing warm air into his cold hands. “Hello, Brant! How’s your holiday going?”
“Oh, as good as can be expected. My father either locks himself in his study or is in London all day working, so at least I don’t have to see him. But come inside, you must be freezing.”
”Just a little.” Leo followed Brant into the house where they sat down in chairs beside the crackling fire in the parlour and warmed their chilled fingers.
“And how are your holidays? Missing the city yet?”
“Immensely. It’s so dull now that the Christmas festivities are over and New Year’s hasn’t arrived yet.”
“There isn’t a whole lot to do here either. James and I spend most of our days taking walks or reading.”
“I think we both could use a little fun.”
Brant chuckled, eager to hear what his friend had in mind.
“Can you get into your father’s liquor cabinet?”
Brant’s excitement immediately switched to warin
ess; he couldn’t forget the mess Leo was in just before holidays and alcohol seemed like the last thing he needed. But, it was dull and Leo always knew how to have a good time. “I can. One moment.”
Brant left the room for a few minutes and was back with two tumblers and a bottle of whisky. He poured the amber liquid and handed a glass to Leo.
“I don’t know if I’ll be coming back to school,” he stated, matter-of-factly, as he placed the bottle on the table between them.
Leo sputtered, choking a bit on his drink and looked and Brant, shocked. “What do you mean? Did something happen?”
“No, nothing happened. I’ve just realized if I’m going to leave I have to do it now.” Brant surprised himself a little with the conviction of his words. He’d thought of little else these past couple of weeks, but he hadn’t come to a decision. Saying it out loud to Leo had been is way of testing the waters, to see how he really felt and he realized that his mind really was made up. He would leave everything behind for the chance at the life he wanted.
“Brant, this is insanity! You have everything you could ever need for the rest of your life.”
“You wish you had the freedom to be with Claire and to change her life for the better, don’t you? Well, I wish I had the freedom to do what I’ve always wanted to. When I was a boy my mother used to take me down to the wharf to watch the ships sail away. I used to dream of what adventures those vessels would embark on and I wanted that for myself—I still want that.”
“It’s hard work, the life of a sailor. Don’t think it is all swashbuckling stories.”
“I know, but that doesn’t change how I feel about the sea. I need to go out and experience it.”
Leo sighed and his shoulders slumped a little in defeat. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing for me. Just... be around for James after I leave. Make sure he’s doing okay.”
“Of course. When are you going to leave?”
“The next few days. I’ll ride to the docks and hopefully leave before my father can track me down. After I’m gone he won’t bother with me. I’ll be dead to him.”
“Will you talk to James before you leave?”
“No. He might tell someone. Could you explain things to him after I’m gone?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“You’re a good friend, Leo. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it, please. Helping you will dirty my pristine reputation.” Leo laughed, but Brant could see there was sadness in his eyes, a sense of loss.
Brant only shook his head and finished the last of his drink. “Your reputation was tarnished about when you started cavorting with me.”
“True. Perhaps your leaving is a good thing. It might save me.”
Brant smiled. Nothing kept his friend down for long, at least not outwardly. He was going to miss Leo. He never judged Brant for his decisions or choices, even if they were contrary to what he might believe or enjoy. Leaving this life, school, home, his father behind would be easy. Leaving behind Leo and James... that would be nearly impossible.
* * *
Brant spent the next few days with James. He played games with the young boy like hide and seek and tag. Every day with Brant he seemed to open up a little more, revert to his natural childlike tendencies. He no longer had to act the part of an adult like he did around his father. For a few days James got to be a six year old and it made Brant feel better that he was able to give his brother that much before he left.
On the day he planned on leaving, Brant took James out horseback riding. They spent dinner in silence though as their father joined them. After that James was taken to bed and Brant was left to his own devices. He walked throughout the entire house, in and out of rooms that he would likely never see again. When he was sure his father had gone to bed Brant went to his own room and packed a bag with a few necessities and then walked out the front door and to the stables. He quickly saddled one of his father’s horses and mounted; riding down the lane he stopped the horse and looked back. The house was dark and not a movement was made. Brant smiled, stroked his horse and turned it back towards town. Tonight was the start of the rest of his life. He had made his choice and now it was time to live with it. Out of the corner of his eye Brant noticed the curtain in his father's study move slightly. Brant was leaving his father's life for good. That was the second loss in the Foxton household in six years. Would there be more?
* * *
Brant tied his father's horse on a hitching post and left him. Someone would claim him come morning, whether it was his father or someone else. It didn't really matter to him anyway.
Walking down the docks it was quiet. It was not the right time of day to be looking to join a crew, but he knew the taverns along the way would house a few crews who might know of a ship he could join.
Walking into one particularly loud one he found himself a seat and took out a smoke. It didn't take long for an older man to approach him.
“And what might a fine young man like you be doing in a place like this?”
“Looking for a billet.”
“I see. And why might that be? From yer clothes I'd say you ain't in need of money.”
“I prefer to keep my past to myself. Do you know of any place for me?”
“Aye I might. I take it you have no experience on a ship?”
“None, but I'm a fast learner and a hard worker.”
“Our cabin boy just left us, perhaps I can convince the Cap'n to take ya on. What be yer name?”
“Brant Foxton.”
“Aye, Brant. I'm Karl. You just sit tight 'ere for a few minutes and I'll let’ya know.”
Karl was only gone a few minutes before he came back with another man.
“Brant, I'm Captain LaFleur of the BlackFox. Karl tells me you are in search of a ship.” He spoke with a heavy French accent but he seemed friendly enough.
“Yes sir. Anything you got I'll do. I'm just looking to make a life on my own.”
“We sail tomorrow. Will you be ready?”
“I'm ready to leave now.”
“Good. Report for duty at first light. We'll put you to work. I'll have Karl waiting for you on dock twelve with a rowboat. He leaves at six... Don't be late.”
“Yes sir. I'll be there, sir.”
* * *
Brant had nowhere to sleep, and no money to pay for a room, so he left the tavern and made his way to dock twelve. There, he found himself a corner beside a building that emanated some heat to chase away the winter cold, and curled up as tightly as he could, hoping sleep would find him. It wasn't comfortable by any means, but at least it was quiet. Dock twelve was far away from most of the traffic and abandoned aside from the rats that slunk around barrels and crates looking for food.
Brant huddled closer to the thin walls of the building, wishing the slight warmth would chase away the chill that was creeping into his limbs. It took hours, but eventually the cold and exhaustion allowed him to drift off.
Brant probably managed to get two or three hours of sleep before a hubbub of working men roused him. His joints were stiff from the cold but he slowly sat up and stretched, working the blood down into his extremities as they tingled painfully to life. When he stood up he spotted Karl almost immediately, barking orders at a few men who seemed to be loading a row boat with supplies.
Karl looked up as Brant approached and gave a little wave.
“What ya doing 'ere already, boy?”
“Figured it’s better to show up early than late.”
Karl studied the boy carefully, his eyebrows furrowing, as if deep in thought, then, once he’d come to a conclusion, his face broke into one of the warmest smiles Brant had ever seen, crooked and stained teeth adding a comedic sense to the picture. “Well, I dare say we ain’t gonna stop ya from working. You can help Joseph over there. He’ll tell ya what to do.”
Brant nodded and walked towards the middle aged man who was helping steady the load in the row boat.
“Hello,
Joseph?”
“Aye. What do ya want?”
“Karl sent me to help you.”
“Well don’t just stand there like a nancy, get in ‘ere and help me stabilize this here stuff.”
Brant jumped in, causing the row boat to rock precariously. Joseph only threw his hands up in disgust. “You don’t know what yer doing, do ya, boy?”
“Not really,” he admitted, heat rising in his face. “But I’ll learn fast. I’ve done a lot of reading and—”
“All the readin’ and learnin’ ain’t gonna help ya out here. You gotta work hard and learn hard and you’ll either die tryin’ or become a man. Can ya handle that, boy?”
“Sure can. I’m not afraid of hard work. The name is Brant, by the way.”
Joseph chuckled. “Yer lucky I like you, Brant, cause I got a mind ta throw ya overboard. Now, enough jabberin’.”
Joseph pushed Brant hard but in an hour the row boat, which Brant learned was actually called a long boat, was full to the brim with supplies. The men working on the dock climbed in, positioning themselves amongst the crates and barrels, and rowed the large boat towards their ship; the BlackFox, where they tied her up and worked at hoisting box by box up onto the ship and into the hold. It was slow, gruelling work. Brant had rope burns and slivers in his hands and he was pretty sure he had blisters on top of blisters, but he never once stopped. He had to prove himself to these men or he would be sent back to his father sooner than an angry wasp will sting.
With the last box loaded Brant went to follow Joseph as Karl began to shout orders about hauling anchor and this person to the helm but Captain LaFleur grabbed his shoulder.
“That’s enough, son. You’re more likely to get in the way now than help. You’ll learn in time. Come with me, I’ll show you where we’re headed.”
Brant followed the captain to his cabin where he pulled out a large map and spread it over his desk, pinning down the corners with various heavy objects.
Owned by the Ocean Page 3