High Sea

by Catherine E Chapman

  After languishing all day in bed, angry with himself for having had to delegate his duties to tend other ailing passengers to the nurse and myself, the Doctor declared in the evening that he would take a bath, in order to ease his aching limbs and, he hoped, speed his recovery.

  I was duly charged with fetching the bathtub to his cabin and filling it with buckets of hot water from the kitchens.

  Once the tub was full, I made to beat a hasty retreat but the Doctor, beginning to undress, insisted I stay, saying, “Sam, nothing would do me more good than to have you rub my poor, aching shoulders.”

  I stood looking at the floor as he undressed and climbed into the tub. Once he sat down in the warm water, I fell to my knees behind him and, after working a bar of soap into a lather in my hands, undertook to massage his broad shoulders, his skin smooth as silk to my touch. His head fell forward as I proceeded.

  “Sam, I cannot tell you how much better that makes me feel,” the Doctor declared indulgently, as I enjoyed the sensation of digging my thumbs and fingers into the pits either side of the base of his neck.

  Without warning, he suddenly collapsed his legs at his knees, so as to slide down into the bathtub, revealing his torso to my unprepared eyes. I averted my gaze instantly but not soon enough to avoid a fleeting glimpse of Doctor John’s perfectly flawless body.

  “You must allow me to return the favour some time, Sam,” the Doctor said casually, wholly unaware of the disturbance his naked form had caused me.

  “That isn’t necessary, Sir,” I was quick to reply, having withdrawn from my station beside the bathtub, in order to avoid further sight of the Doctor.

  “Come, Sam, you know I’ll have no truck with rank–”

  “But Sir, I have since childhood had a dislike of water – a dread fear of it. I do not enjoy bathing.”

  At this the Doctor laughed heartily. “You have a fear of water but you undertook to stow away on the high sea! Strange boy!” he exclaimed, turning around to look at me, his face animated with laughter.

  I gazed upon him and could not but smile to see him happy. “You look well, Doctor. Your bath has restored you to yourself,” I observed.

  “It has indeed, Sam. I feel as though I can breathe again and my limbs are very much looser.”

  And at that he took me by surprise again, rising, in an instant, to his feet in the tub and standing unabashed before me.

  And, I must confess, I could not take my eyes off him. I remember my good employer, Mrs Rush, telling me of the time she had witnessed Lord Elgin’s marbles on a visit to the British Museum. I doubted that those Grecian friezes could have depicted a more perfect masculine form than that I beheld before me.

  “Fetch me a towel, Sam,” he said flippantly as he ran his hands through his fair hair.

  * * *

  My favourite time on board ship was evening, when, our duties concluded, the Doctor and I would often walk upon the deck, looking out across the endless ocean to the sun setting on the horizon. It was always a moment of complete calm and contentment for me, the ship making its steady progress through the undulating current and Doctor John by my side.

  But upon one such occasion there was a rude interruption to our conversation when, from the starboard side, we heard a cry of, “Estelle!” swiftly followed by the sound of something plunging into the water.

  The Doctor was quick to run over to the edge of the deck. I followed him, whereupon I beheld a scene of disorder. A mature gentleman looked downwards, over the side of the ship, aghast, as a young woman struggled in the sea, her skirts around her head and their weight appearing to be pulling her under as they became heavier with the water.

  Without thinking, I threw off my jacket, pushed off my shoes, climbed overboard, perched precariously on an outer ledge of the ship and then dived into the water. My body convulsed as I entered the freezing swell. As a child I had been used to swimming in the sea with my male cousins on our visits to family who lived on the coast (this activity carried out, of course, in secret – my inclusion would never have been permitted by our elders). So I had thought myself accustomed to the water’s chill. But that had been nothing compared to the intensity of cold that I now knew. I had to get hold of the woman and get us both out of the water, I knew; and very soon else we would both perish.

  “Miss, if you will take hold of me, I can keep us both afloat,” I cried as I approached the young woman.

  “Leave me be,” she returned, resisting my support as I tried to catch hold of her.

  “But Miss, if you skirts become any heavier, they will surely draw you under!” I urged, reaching out for her once more.

  “Unhand me, you ruffian!” she protested.

  “Miss, you will drown!” I cried in despair, my challenge great enough without her resistance.

  “Maybe that is my intention!” she replied bitterly as I finally caught hold of her.

  I suddenly perceived how imperfect my understanding of the situation had at first been. Tightening my grasp on her, I replied, “Well if you are to drown I shall be going with you, Miss.”

  Treading water feverishly, I looked up to see Doctor John in the act of throwing a rope to my aid.

  Taking hold of it with my free hand, I felt myself and the young woman being hauled through the water towards the side of the ship, where the crew had let down a rope-ladder. One sailor now awaited us at the ladder’s base, reaching out his hand to grab hold of me.

  As we were hoisted to safety, the young lady wept bitterly, all around believing her to be in shock; myself alone aware that her distress had been occasioned by the failure of her plan.

  But her designs were now truly thwarted, too many being intent upon keeping her alive to allow her to slip this mortal coil early as she’d intended.

  She was raised up to the deck, whereupon her father took her in his arms. I followed in her wake.

  On deck, Captain Grey and Doctor John fussed about the young lady, whilst I stood shivering in my sodden clothes.

  “Go back to my cabin, Sam; dry yourself,” the Doctor ordered.

  I did his bidding, stealing one last intrigued glance at the sobbing young woman, whose mood was now not so much anger as utter abandoned grief.

  * * *

  “Sam, I wanted to thank you personally for what you did this evening,” Mr McEwan said as I stood before him in Estelle’s cabin, for the young woman whose life I had so rudely saved went by the name of Estelle and her father, I discovered, was Mr McEwan, a very distinguished gentleman of trade.

  I looked over at Estelle, now reclining on her bunk, glaring at me with eyes as hateful as her weakened constitution would allow.

  “It is what anybody would have done, Sir,” I replied understatedly, averting my eyes from Estelle’s.

  “I have spoken with the Captain and become acquainted with your circumstances, Sam,” McEwan continued.

  I cast my gaze ashamedly to the wooden floorboards of the cabin.

  “Be assured, young man, once we dock in Australia I shall arrange that you receive a sum to give you a start in that New World–”

  “I thank you, Mr McEwan but that will not be necessary–”

  “Nonsense. The least I can do to repay you for your good and brave deed is to give you the means of obtaining legitimate work. You may find it hard to believe, Sam, but I too was once but a poor boy.”

  I began to appreciate that McEwan’s offer was too good to resist. Setting up my own little business as a seamstress had ever been my intention. Once I could get far away enough from those who had known me as a boy I could revert to my true identity. McEwan’s money would enable me to make that transition all the sooner and with more dignity. “I humbly thank you for your kind offer, Sir,” I said simply.

  “It is a just reward, Sam,” he replied with a hint of warmth.

  I sensed that our interview was drawing to its close.

  “Can I speak to the boy alone, Father?” Estelle asked meekly from her bed.

  “Make it
brief, my dear,” her father replied. “Doctor John says you now need rest after your ordeal.”

  He left the cabin and Estelle beckoned me over to her bedside. “It is blood money he gives you,” she pronounced in an embittered whisper. “I am to be sold, like a slave, to a man I do not love – and whom I’ve barely met,” she continued. “And know well, Samuel, that I shall eternally hate you for not having let me die this night as I intended–”

  “To have left you to perish in the water would have been a crime – not to mention a sin,” I protested.

  “And yet you are willing to watch me be sold like a chattel. And to take my father’s money in complicity with his abuse of my freedom.”

  She spoke so venomously that I was taken aback but I perceived that a more feminine response to her outrage might prove more productive. “Why do you so dislike the man your father wishes you to marry, Miss Estelle?” I asked.

  “He is an ignorant brute. He has no refinement – only money. And I have no wish to live in a country where the land is dust-dry and the heat always stifling.”

  She had brought her passionate ranting to a wild climax, although all issued at a volume barely more audible than a whisper.

  “Miss Estelle, you must calm yourself,” I advised, involuntarily placing my hands on her shoulders and urging her to recline back in her bed.

  To my shock, the seemingly fragile Estelle seized hold of me and pulled me to her, engulfing my lips in her own like a vampire.

  I had to fight hard to free myself from her grasp and when I finally did so, she lay there, like a harpy, looking up at me and laughing, wild-eyed, at my paralysis, as I gazed down, open-mouthed, upon her.

  The cabin door opened and Doctor John appeared. “Miss Estelle, you have been in company for too long. You need to sleep.”

  I spied McEwan hovering outside the door behind the Doctor.

  “Come away, Sam – you can talk to the young lady tomorrow.”

  “Yes, do come, Sam, do come and talk to me,” Estelle demanded in a breathlessly faint but determined little voice. “There’s so much I want to say to you,” she added, directing a menacing grin at me.

  As I went to leave the cabin, the Doctor turned to face me and said, “Repair to my quarters, Samuel. In all of this, I have neglected to ensure that your health has not been damaged by your encounter with the deep–”

  “There is no need, Doctor John,” I insisted, alarmed at the prospect of an examination.

  But he was immovable. “No arguments, Sam. Neither you nor I shall sleep until I have looked at you.”

  And, watching him prepare a needle to ensure Estelle some respite from her agitated mind, I reluctantly withdrew from her cabin to his.

  * * *

  “Take off your shirt, Sam,” the Doctor instructed plainly.

  I froze. “I cannot, Sir,” I protested falteringly.

  Doctor John laughed at my awkwardness. “Good heavens, Sam, you have seen me naked. Furthermore, I am a doctor–”

  “I have scarring, Sir – on my chest, from when I was a child,” I explained. “I do not like it to be seen.”

  His mood sobered. “Very well, Sam,” he said softly. “The last thing I want is to make you feel uncomfortable but I am quite determined to give myself the satisfaction of making certain that no harm has been done to you by your adventures of earlier this evening. Here, come and sit beside me,” he said, taking a seat on his bunk and indicating that I should sit alongside that place.

  I sat down.

  “I need to listen to your chest, to check that your heartbeat is regular.” And with that, the Doctor turned to face me and, placing his hands on my shoulders, turned me in to face him. Bowing his head, he placed his ear against my chest.

  I felt certain that my heart began to race at his close proximity.

  “Try to relax and breathe regularly, Sam,” the Doctor advised.

  I looked down upon his mass of golden curls, longing to enfold his head in my arms and press him closer to my bosom. The incident with Estelle had stirred strange feelings inside me. The whole night’s bizarre encounters had, in fact, been so uncommonly physical as to make me realise how seldom I made any sensual contact with another being, save from the caresses that Doctor John unknowingly bestowed upon me in his sleep.

  “You are a strange one, Sam,” Doctor John mused, his head still at my breast. “At times so shy and secretive yet then so bold and fearless.”

  I said nothing but tried, in vain, to slow my heart and stifle my emotions.

  “And you lie, Sam–”

  At those words, I pulled away from him and stood up.

  But he just laughed. “Stay, Sam, I mean no offence. Remember, you told me you had an aversion to water – the night when you bathed me, do you recall?”

  And, reaching out his hand to me, he pulled me towards him and sat me upon his knee.

  “For one who fears water, you seemed mightily at home in the swell tonight, Sam,” the Doctor said, smiling at me as he held me upon his knee like a child.

  In my utter confusion, I could only smile too at the tangled web of deceit I had woven.

  The Doctor looked at me sincerely. “Listen, Sam, I cannot pretend to know what your past was – nor to understand what kind of home you came from. Admittedly, my own upbringing was one of privilege. But please, Sam, know that you can trust me. You need keep no secrets from me.”

  He had his arms about me and looked deeply into my eyes. I found myself fighting hard to hold back from engulfing him in the manner in which Estelle had engulfed me earlier in the evening. I looked out of his deep blue eyes.

  “Look at me, Sam,” the Doctor insisted. “You are become like a brother to me, these past weeks. Know that I will be your protector.”

  With a tear in my eye to hear him utter those words, I could not help but embrace him, devoid of words noble enough to meet his.

  “Dear Sam,” he said, accepting my embrace, pulling me closer and rocking me. “What a peculiar fellow you are, little Samuel,” he concluded affectionately.

  * * *

  “Come. Come sit beside me,” Estelle said, beckoning me to her bed.

  I stood stock-still at the door. I didn’t trust her.

  “I am sorry for what I said last night, Sam,” Estelle continued. “I realise now I should be thankful to you for saving my life. Come, Sam, sit beside me. What harm can there be in it?”

  Reluctantly I walked over to her bedside.

  “Sit!” she insisted.

  Nervously, I sat down on her bunk.

  Now she had got me where she wanted me, Estelle seemed to have nothing to say. Tentatively, I began, “Miss Estelle, if you don’t mind my asking, have you told your father how you feel about your proposed marriage?”

  “Have you ever been in love, Sam?” she returned rather evasively.

  “No,” I replied.

  “Don’t lie, Sam, your eyes betray you.”

  I looked away from her.

  “My father knows that I am in love with a man who is not the man he wants me to marry,” Estelle said bitterly. “He tells me lies about the man I love.”

  “What does he say?” I asked.

  “He says that the man I love is betrothed to another but he is lying–”

  “How do you know?” I asked her.

  “Because he loved me,” she insisted, beginning to weep as she spoke the words.

  Before I knew it, Estelle had taken hold of me and clung to me desperately. Instinctively, I began to comfort her by patting her back but I stopped almost immediately, fearing the gesture to be unmanly.

  Estelle, whose head had been resting on my shoulder, suddenly pulled away from me but then lunged at me again, kissing my lips.

  I tried to escape her grasp but met, once more, with the surprising physical strength that matched her will.

  “Miss Estelle, stop!” I demanded when I managed to free my lips from hers.

  Her look was one of frenzied excitement. She reached her
hand very decidedly and grabbed at my bosom. Then she collapsed back into her bed in fits of laughter.

  “I must go, Miss,” I said urgently, rising from the bed.

  “Poor Sam,” she mocked as I backed away from her, “do I scare you that much?”

  I couldn’t find words of reply.

  “Poor Sam,” she repeated softly, looking steadily at me with her big, mocking eyes, “or should I say Samantha?”

  * * *

  Late in the evening, I stood before Mr McEwan, Captain Grey and the Doctor. I could barely look any of them in the face but the Doctor kept his gaze firmly averted from mine.

  “We do not wish to subject you to a humiliating examination,” Captain Grey said, “But you must tell us the truth. Is it true what Miss McEwan has asserted?”

  “Yes,” I uttered to the floor of the cabin.

  Doctor John rose from his chair. “I’m sorry, Captain, Mr McEwan,” he said, “you must please excuse me.”

  * * *

  Fortunately for me, though one among my interrogatory party seemed unable to forgive my deceit, the other two became only more sympathetic to my circumstances upon my admission of my true gender.

  Though the Captain tried to be stern, I could detect his sense of humour in response to the whole business. Moreover, Mr McEwan assured the Captain that he would take full responsibility for me for the remainder of the journey – I would travel as one of his party.

  He took me from the Captain’s cabin to his own, where he told me I was to take a free bunk in the cabin of Estelle’s maid. I thanked Mr McEwan profusely for his kindness, still deeply embarrassed by what had occurred. In contrast to the faint amusement exhibited by Captain Grey, Mr McEwan’s attitude towards me was deeply serious but I sensed that it was borne of concern rather than disapproval.