Brethren

by W. A. Hoffman

  I grinned. In truth, I was secretly pleased with the Gods.

  Eleven

  Wherein I Discover I Am Not A Wolf

  My bowels and the heat asserted their hold over my body and spirit during the debate about where to provision, and I crawled into the hold and napped in the bed Davey had used. If he came and found me there, I was not aware of it. The ship was under way when Gaston woke me. He informed me we were on our way to Hispaniola to raid a swine farm. I drank water, ate boucan, and went back to sleep, as there was a familiar unsettled sensation in my stomach and I realized I was seasick again.

  Sometime later, I was awakened by our surgeon, Cleghorn. Bradley had informed him that I had the flux. I propped myself against the sloping wall, and told him I was also prone to seasickness and seemingly suffering from that too. He asked the usual questions concerning the consistency of my stool and what I had been eating and drinking, and then he felt my pulse and listened to my breathing as I answered. I did not embellish my responses with the whys and wherefores, I merely stated that I was drinking a great deal of water and eating as I could.

  “I want you to stop consuming anything until they pass,” he said. “It is my guess that this will not be overly irksome for you, as you probably do not feel the need to partake of anything with the seasickness and all. I will give you something to help you sleep. You should rest for several days, and then if it has not passed, I will bleed you to clear the bad blood.”

  I let my perplexity show clearly. “How will we know if it has passed if I have not partaken of anything to pass?”

  He smiled. “The urge to do so suddenly will pass, and you will feel calmness in your bowels.”

  “How will I feel calmness in my bowels if I am famished?”

  “Bradley warned me you might be a troublesome patient.”

  I let that pass. “What say you to the theory that it may be possible to clear a vileness of the bowels with large quantities of water? To flush it out?”

  “That’s absurd. Where did you hear such a thing, some court physician in England?”

  “I have never been to court in England.” So Bradley had told him a number of other things about me as well. “Where did you learn your trade?”

  The air was growing distinctly cooler between us. He set down the vial that he had been examining and regarded me with a calm face and firm eyes. “I was trained as a surgeon in His Majesty’s Navy. Where did you receive medical training?”

  “I have not. Yet in my travels I have met and required the services of a number of surgeons and physicians in several nations: enough to know that medical opinion varies greatly from place to place and person to person. I mean no offense, but none of you know for certain what will work or not, unless it is a simple matter such as removing shot or stitching a wound. All other matters of the body seem to be a mystery and spark as many schools of thought as religion and philosophy combined. As a result, unless I am unconscious and incapable of making a decision on my own behalf, I choose to keep my own counsel and decide which remedy to partake of. A week ago, I would have followed your advice to the letter, but since arriving here, I heard of another course of treatment, and it made a great deal of sense to me, and I wish to continue it.”

  He looked annoyed, but was attempting to continue to be pleasant as he packed his bag. “I can see your reasoning. I truly can. So where did you hear this remedy from?”

  “You will scoff, but Gaston.”

  Cleghorn narrowed his eyes and shrugged. “I don’t know him.”

  “My… matelot.”

  This induced him to roll his eyes as I had expected. “Good luck to you, then.” He stood as much as one could in the low hold, and braced his hand on the ceiling beams. “You may find it prudent to have someone inform me when you pass into unconsciousness. That way, I may possibly be able to save your life.”

  I smiled congenially until he left with the lantern, and then I drank the rest of the water in the dark. I realized it was late, as there was very little light coming through the hatch. There was another lantern at the other end of the hold, but it did little to illuminate the shadows around me. I heard voices nearby and knew I was not alone. I thought I should try to doze again. And then Gaston was at my side.

  “Were you here?” I asked sluggishly.

  “Non, I saw him leave. If I had seen him come down, I would have been here. I am sorry. Did he give you something?”

  “Non, I defended myself well and would not let him,” I said in a teasing tone, as he seemed very serious. “I am afraid he is unhappy with me as a result. He said I should partake of nothing until the flux passed.”

  Gaston heaved an exasperated sigh and turned to sit with his back to me, as if guarding me from the rest of the hold and all the world’s idiotic surgeons. His concern was touching, and I was gripped by an urge to caress him since he was in easy reach. This need did not seem to spring from my loins but from my heart. I simply wanted to touch. I forced the thought away, as whatever my intent, I knew the act would not be welcome. I foresaw a great deal of frustration in my future over that.

  “Where did you learn medicine?” I asked to distract myself.

  “A surgeon on Île de la Tortue, a physician really, trained in a Moorish college of medicine. He taught me a great deal and I read his books.”

  “So why are you not posing as a medical practitioner?”

  “I do not like people and I do not wish to be obligated to help them.” He said this with no humor whatsoever and I laughed loudly in response. He glared at me, and finally smiled.

  “I am so very glad you like me,” I said.

  He snorted derisively, and then smiled again. “You are my matelot; I will do right by you.”

  I frowned at that; but he could not see it, as he was not facing me. I was free to study his profile, though. Sitting as he was, and facing the only dim source of light, he was an interesting study in shadows. There was much we needed to discuss.

  “Have you had other matelots?” I asked.

  He shook his head, “Non, none.”

  “Lovers?” I winced even as the word came out. I knew not how he would respond to it.

  Gaston was quiet for a moment but he did not glare at me. “Non, none.”

  I was, of course, surprised. He was a virgin?

  “In all this time here, you have not had a lover of any persuasion?”

  He sighed and regarded me with mild exasperation, but no anger. “Non. I understand how you would find it hard to imagine.”

  I winced. “I am not that promiscuous.”

  “Truly?” he asked with a small smirk.

  “Well, oui, I guess, as compared to some, possibly.”

  “How many?”

  I grimaced. “I do not know. I am not being coy. I just stopped counting years ago. It seemed a boyish thing.”

  “Matelots?”

  “Well seeing as how I never heard the term until I arrived in Port Royal,” I teased. He looked away again, but I did not sense he was annoyed; more that he would wait me out. “Almost one.”

  He gaze returned to me. “Almost?”

  “I had a man I was… He was my partner, but not as this is, or how I imagine this is, or… Never mind.”

  He was deep in thought. “Was he your lover?”

  “Oui.”

  “Was he your partner in business as well?”

  “Oui. And he was my friend, which I view as being a separate issue. I have had business partners and lovers who were not friends. I have often had one or two of those components, but he was the first in which all three were encompassed. Yet, even if we had been here and knew the term, I do not think I would have called him matelot.”

  Gaston frowned. “Why?” he asked when I did not speak.

  I was trying to determine why I felt that. I had said it and known it to be true, but what exactly was different? Then it occurred to me.

  “He would not have been comfortable with the public display of the title and what it mig
ht imply.”

  Melancholy welled in me over this new knowledge. Alonso had not been furtive about all aspects of our relationship, but he had insisted on discretion as to the sexual nature of it. I had thought this in perfect keeping with how such things were done at the time; but in regarding it from amongst the buccaneers, I found it confining and insulting in retrospect. Though in truth, I had been nowhere else that men could so openly profess or display their carnal relationships with one another.

  “It would not have been acceptable to him,” I added. “Just like Bradley becoming distraught at my calling it marriage.”

  “It is marriage,” Gaston whispered. He moved to his knees. “We should go up and eat. It is night and cool now; you can sleep on deck.”

  “Oui, I should let Davey have his bed back.”

  He stopped and regarded me. “Have you been with him?”

  “Who, Davey? Non, non. Though I will admit I considered it on the voyage. I was powerfully bored and lustful, but he…” I sighed heavily. “I have some pride. I do not fuck sheep.”

  “What?”

  “It is this theory I have concerning people and…”

  His hand brushed my chest and came to rest lightly on my lips. I was stunned and then I heard people descending the stairs, and I understood. His hand moved away, and he dropped beside me again, with his back in contact with my hip this time. The new arrivals were speaking Dutch. I recognized one voice, Cudro, as his magnificent baritone was hard to mistake for any other. I found the pistol I had tucked into the blankets. I did not know why Gaston hated the man, but I would trust that he had good reason.

  Another lantern was lit, and we saw Cudro, and Liam and Otter. A moment later, they saw us. The Scotsman waved.

  “We be checkin’ barrels,” he told Gaston in English, or rather his approximation of it. He indicated the stacks of them which took up half the hold. “Bradley wants ta know if we ’ave enough to salt and barrel a whole farm o’ hogs. I told ’im we should make boucan, it’ll last longer an’ taste better. ’E’s worried ’bout the time it’ll take.”

  “We could do it while we are careening,” Gaston said. “With enough men, we could do the pits quickly and have time for it to smoke.”

  “We’ll have to, not enough barrels anyway,” Otter said.

  Cudro sneered and addressed Gaston in French. He kept his tone jocular, as if he were discussing the weather. “Will your new friend be helping? I see you finally became lonely enough. Now we can finally see what it is you want in a man, though I can’t imagine one such as that wanting the likes of you. Or has he seen you yet?”

  Gaston was very still, and I could feel the tension through his spine. I kept all expression off my face save mild curiosity, as if I did not speak French. This is what Cudro was obviously assuming. The Scotsman and his matelot apparently did not speak the language: after some mild curiosity of their own, they turned to examining barrels. It could also be assumed that no one else in the hold spoke the language, either.

  “Probably a good idea to move fast,” Cudro continued. “I hear he’s sickly and new here. Cleghorn thinks he won’t survive seasoning. But to jump a man who doesn’t know a thing about you seems unfair.”

  As usual, I reached a point where I could no longer hold my tongue. “I feel I know him well enough,” I said in French. I pushed myself up and moved so that I was kneeling on the other side of Gaston, where I would not hinder his blade if he should need to draw it. I let my arm drape across his shoulders, with the pistol dangling negligently beside him. “And I am not on my deathbed. I truly feel I should take issue with Cleghorn concerning that.”

  Cudro sucked wind like a wounded boar, and his face froze in surprise. Gaston grinned. It was not a nice grin.

  “I am sure there will be enough time for other matters once we careen,” Gaston said.

  “I don’t wish to fight you,” Cudro said in English. This and the overall change in mood had the Scotsman’s and his matelot’s attention, along with that of the other men in the hold. Their quiet conversation ceased.

  I sat still and wondered if Gaston would force the issue. As of yet, this was his quarrel and not mine.

  “Then you can apologize,” Gaston said in English.

  “What’d he say?” Liam asked.

  That, I felt I could and should address. “He said he thought it was unfair that Gaston should take advantage of me when I am sickly and possibly dying by entering into a relationship with me when, according to this gentleman, my matelot has much to hide. He also wondered why someone like myself, whatever that may imply, would possibly want Gaston, and …” I looked at Gaston innocently, “did I miss anything?”

  “Nay, not of what he should apologize for this day. The past is another matter, though; and we will settle that someday, but not on account of this. Unless you find that unacceptable?” Gaston asked me.

  “I will be satisfied in this matter if you are satisfied.” I grinned.

  Cudro looked to Liam and Otter for support, and found cold eyes and frowns. The big man underwent an apparent reconsideration of his current place in the world and in the eyes of his peers.

  He addressed us with a mien that approached humility but did not quite attain it. “I apologize for any insult you may have perceived from my comments.” His words, too, approached an apology but did not quite attain it, either. Just as his original slurs had been very close to insults, but not enough to make most men pull a piece on him. The big Dutchman was very clever, and I was impressed in spite of my dislike for him.

  Gaston continued to stare at him. For my part, I sighed with less-than-subtle impatience.

  “What more would you have me say?” Cudro asked.

  Gaston did not blink.

  “May I?” I asked.

  Gaston nodded.

  “I would have you apologize for the intent behind your words, as that is what I perceived as insulting.”

  Gaston nodded again.

  Cudro’s lip quirked for a moment. “I meant you no…”

  We cut him off with shakes of our heads.

  His lip twitched again. “I am sorry I insulted you.”

  I grimaced and held up my left hand with the thumb and forefinger held close together but not touching. This time I heard his quiet curse.

  “I apologize for attempting to insult you.”

  “Aye, I am sure you regret it now,” I said, and Gaston smirked. “I believe I can speak for both of us in saying that we accept your apology, but we have no intention of forgiving you.” Gaston nodded agreeably.

  The big Dutchman snorted and left the hold. Liam and his matelot turned to us after watching him depart.

  “You should probably kill him,” Otter said quietly.

  “I intend to,” Gaston said.

  “So, then, I should tell the captain you two’ll be in on the boucan making?” Liam asked as if the whole other conversation had not occurred.

  “Aye,” Gaston said. They began to leave.

  “Should we be taking this?” Liam indicated the lantern.

  “Aye,” Gaston said.

  They departed, and we were plunged into semi-darkness. There was only the flicker of the lone lantern at the stern of the hold. The other conversation resumed, somewhere in the shadows. I could not make out the words.

  I realized I still had an arm across Gaston’s shoulders and we were very close. I was almost pressed against his side. I removed my arm.

  “Non,” he whispered.

  I replaced my arm. He sighed. We sat that way in silence for a time. I did nothing to dispel it, as it was nice to touch him and, as I had come to find earlier, I needed to touch someone.

  “Cudro was enamored with me when first we met,” he whispered. “I rejected him repeatedly, until his affection turned to something else. Since then, he has always been cleverly insulting and…” He took a long breath, and was slow to start talking again. “He knows some of my weaknesses, and he, with intent and malice, once endeavored to set me upo
n one of my bouts. He succeeded. I tried to kill him, and was stopped by other crewmembers. At which point they allowed him to beat me soundly. I left that ship at the next port. I would have had no recourse there, except to take them all on. I began sailing with Pierrot after that.”

  I was furious. “Now I want to kill him.”

  He snorted with wry amusement. “He is mine.”

  “You have far more discipline and restraint than I.”

  “Do I?”

  “Truly.” I was being honest, except for one notable exception in my history. I squeezed his shoulder, and he moved into me a little. We sat like that for a while longer; and I was torn between contentment and smoldering anger over what had been done to him.

  “Gaston? Will? YaDown’Ere?” a familiar voice asked from the hatch.

  “Aye,” we said in unison.

  There was a pause. “ShouldIGo?”

  I wanted to say “aye” but Gaston had already slipped away from me to stand.

  “Nay, we are coming,” he said. I felt a tap on my forehead and I reached up to find his hand. He pulled me to my feet, and we joined Pete at the hatch.

  “CaptainWantsTalkBoucan.”

  I followed and listened to an hour of discussion about when hogs could be slaughtered in relation to creating boucan and salting. I would not have thought the matter of victuals to be so damned complex, but then I remembered every officer I ever met speaking of an army moving on its stomach.

  Knowing someone would tell me what to do when it was necessary for me to do something, I curled up in the corner of our alcove and tried to doze again. Instead I found myself watching the stars and the sail against them. There were millions of them, and I found my eye drawn to constellations I had learned over the years; and then I was naming the stars I knew. Sometime later the conversation stopped, and Gaston eclipsed the stars until he came to lie beside me. I pointed to the last three stars I could name, and he named them. And so we lay there looking at the heavens and recounting the myths behind the constellations as we had heard them, until I was finally tired enough to sleep again.

  I rolled onto my side with my back against the wall, my head at the gunwale and a pistol and my rapier in reach. He followed my lead and even scooted closer to me, so that we were almost touching. And so I lay there feeling very cozy and safe from harm. I slept deeply.