Page 20

Reckoning

I took off my clothes, laying them neatly on the chair.

“Get the oil, will you?” Captain Martin suggested.

“Yes, Captain,” I said, falling back into our habitual dynamic during these sorts of games. It felt good and right to be here with him, following his orders. His amorous attention made me feel safe and cherished, and I could forget for the moment about everything else.

“Oh, and tell Boone not to let anyone in,” he added.

I looked down. “But I’m naked! You could have asked me before.”

“I didn’t think of it. Just talk to him through the door.” He shrugged.

I walked to the door and crossed my arms.

“Boone,” I said.

No answer.

“Boone!” I repeated with more volume.

“He’s probably fallen asleep,” Captain Martin said.

“Some bodyguard,” I muttered. I cupped my hands over my mouth, braced my elbows against the wood of the door, and yelled at the top of my voice.

“Boone!”

There was some muttering and then Boone’s voice. Thank goodness.

“Aye!”

“Please make sure the captain is not disturbed until morning, will you?” I asked.

“Oh, aye. Not disturbed. Of course.”

“And don’t fall asleep!”

“What? All night?”

“Well, at least for the next—” I glanced at the captain who raised his eyebrows. “—couple of hours.”

The captain’s eyes went wide. He must be more tired than I’d thought.

I turned back to the door. “One hour. Maybe even half an hour.”

I heard the captain’s laughter and rested my forehead against the door in defeat.

“What the bloody fuck?” Boone muttered under his breath. Then said, loudly, “Aye, fine! Got it.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Enjoy yourself.”

I glared at the door, wanting to shoot a bullet into Boone for being so vexing when the captain was truly at fault. He should have thought of this earlier.

He was still laughing as I marched over to the bed, got up onto the mattress with my back to him, squirted oil into my hand, and got to work. The laughter behind me died, and a curse replaced it as I stuck two fingers inside myself up to the knuckles.

I craned my neck to see him.

He gaped at my fingers as they worked my hole, his eyes wide, his mouth open, and a look of entrancement on his handsome face. As he should.

I faced forward and redoubled my efforts at revenge for what he had put me through. A strange way to get back at him, I grant you, but effective in wiping all traces of smug amusement from his face.

“Oh my God,” Dinesh whispered.

The next time I looked, he had a fist working his cock and was gazing at my arse like he wanted to bronze the thing.

The only hitch to my plan to drive Captain Martin mad with desire this way was that I’d turned myself into a writhing mess of need. I had been play-acting when we started, but I wasn’t pretending now. My moans and groans were real, and I wished the captain didn’t have a fresh wound that needed healing so he could take me against the cabin wall whilst Boone tried not to fall asleep. In fact, I was frigging myself so skillfully that I almost forgot about the captain until he reminded me he was there and expecting attention.

“Rooster…are you going to…? I need you to… Jesus, get over here…please. How are you so bloody profane and delightful?”

I had a sudden flash of my tombstone: Here lies Simon White. He was profane and delightful, and he died by not getting fucked in the year of 1781. May he rest in peace.

I needed to get a hold of myself. By not getting a hold of myself. And by getting a hold of someone else.

I pulled my fingers out of my arse, though saddened to do so, wiped them on the bedcover, and turned to the captain. He had his prick in hand and looked ready to go over the edge. At least this would be quick.

“Well, if you want me to swallow that thing, you’d best let go,” I said, crawling forward.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Captain Martin muttered, letting go and putting his hands behind his head. His prick bobbed against his belly, a spidery strand of fluid connecting them.

I sighed. “I wish we could fuck. I want to climb on top of you.”

“You could do that…” he said with hope in his eyes.

“Perhaps, if the wound wasn’t so high up on your thigh. But I’d only hurt you and delay its healing. Never mind. I’ll just do this…”

I bent and lifted his cock up off his belly, then took his turgid flesh in my mouth with a voraciousness that caught Captain Martin by surprise.

He cried out as I took him to the root.

I circled him with my fingers and hummed a song as I jerked and sucked, jerked and sucked. He uttered a long groan as he dumped a gallon of seed into my gullet.

“Oh…my…god…” he muttered, gazing at the ceiling whilst I cleaned a bit of seed that had leaked from my lips. “You are the damnedest creature, Rooster. And so very fucking talented.”

Now I was the one who looked smug.

“Yes, I know.”

I swallowed and licked my lips, then gazed at the window, where the sun was not visibly lower than when we’d started. “I doubt that was half an hour.”

“No,” the captain said. “But that’s just as well. I do need to rest.”

“Yes.”

“And now that you’ve taken care of that, I think I shall. Thank you very much, Rooster.”

“You’re very welcome, Dinesh.”

I was feeling rather exhausted myself. It had been a trying day.

“Do you mind if I rest here, with you? I’m quite tired and a bit fragile, if I’m being honest.”

He levelled a stern gaze at me. “You should always be honest with me, Rooster.”

“I shall try,” I said, and snugged myself under the covers with him. “Oh, I forgot to snuff the lamp,” I said, preparing to get up again.

“Never mind. It’s a proper hurricane lantern, hanging on a hook. The thing’ll burn out before morning.”

I was more than happy to stay under the covers with my captain, savouring the peaceful rocking of the ship, and the hum of activity and conversation from the deck. I fell asleep snuggled into the captain’s side, listening to his light snoring.

*

S houts woke me at the crack of dawn. Someone was pounding on the captain’s door.

I shot out of bed and cowered with fear against the wall, abandoning poor Dinesh in a selfish panic. The captain very calmly slid a hand beneath his pillow and pulled out a pistol as my eyes widened. Had the weapon been there all along?

He cocked the hammer.

More pounding and then…laughter.

“What the fuck is going on out there?” the captain yelled. “Simon’s about to throw himself overboard, he’s so frightened.”

“Oh, sorry, Captain Martin,” Lahiri’s voice came loudly. “We didn’t mean to scare anyone.”

“Why? Did we interrupt the two of you?” Domingo said.

Voices and cheering could be heard. The captain eased the hammer back and lowered his gun as we exchanged puzzled looks. I hopped back into bed and covered my nakedness, trying to slow the rapid pounding of my heart.

Lahiri’s laughter sounded outside the door. “It’s Mr Silk and Duncan! They’re alive!”

The captain moved to get up and then remembered his wound. He settled back.

“Jesus! Rooster, can you get the door?”

“Yes, of course,” I said, grabbing the captain’s shirt off the floor and pulling the garment over my nakedness.

I went and tugged open the door.

Half the crew were there, and they all yelled, “Heya!”

Lahiri gazed at me with happiness, and Domingo’s eyes took in my lack of clothing with barely hidden amusement.

I smiled and lifted my hand, feeling rather exposed, even though my very private bits were somewhat concealed.

Squid pushed through the mass of men, many with bottles in their hands, and now drifting away to go back to where the real party was.

“Is this true?” I asked, looking at him and Lahiri and Domingo. “Mr Silk and Duncan?”

Squid nodded ferociously, then frowned. “Well, they found us, more like. Poor blokes have been rowing for days.”

His words didn’t make sense.

“But…Squid…the storm. If the gale almost sent the Arrow down, how did they survive the weather?”

“They must have been a day behind us. The captain ordered us to stay put as best we can so the Arrow could be repaired. There ain’t much wind, and we don’t have the sails unfurled.”

“Well, I’m glad they’re alive.”

“So am I,” the captain said, his voice at my ear.

I turned and gaped at him. “Get back to bed! You’re wounded!”

“I’m fine, Rooster. Good as gold after a night’s rest and…well, you know.”

“I’m sure I know,” Domingo said.

I frowned. “I don’t think you should be up,” I said to the captain.

Squid laughed. “Well, you’ll both miss the celebrations if you don’t join us. You must come and welcome them back aboard. You must!”

“Of course, we will. Save us some rum, will you?” Captain Martin said.

“Yes, Captain,” Squid said, turning to follow the rest of the men to the deck. Lahiri went as well, but Domingo remained.

“That’s the happiest I’ve ever seen that fellow,” Captain Martin commented.

“I don’t actually think Squid’s a ‘fellow’,” I said, giving voice to an idea that had been niggling at my brain since we’d brought him aboard.

Domingo said nothing, just gave me a soft smile that felt like agreement.

I glanced at Captain Martin. He looked flummoxed.

“What on earth do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t know. Doesn’t matter…”

“You think Squid is a maid?” Captain Martin asked, doubtful, because Squid was quite unladylike.

“Ain’t my business, really, and I don’t give a flying fuck, to be honest.”

Domingo laughed.

“Well, then, neither do I. Let’s have a look at our two returned crew members. I couldn’t be happier about this unexpected development.”

“You’d better put some clothes on,” Domingo muttered, scanning us in our undressed state. “There’s quite a crowd up there. Oh, and here.”

He brought his hand from behind him and held out a polished walking stick to Captain Martin. “One of the crew told me to give this to you. He found it in the hold.”

“Oh, thank you, but I don’t think I’m quite that—”

I took the stick from Domingo and thanked him.

We hastened to dress. I had to help Dinesh as his leg was stiff and sore.

When we were ready, I passed him the walking stick. He took the aid from me with an expression of peeved indulgence, and we made our way up to the deck.

He managed well with the wood staff, and I was reassured about the mild nature of his injury. When we reached the others, there were more cheers, and the men brought Mr Silk and Duncan to greet us.

They had rather awful sunburns, and their lips were cracked and parched, but they hadn’t fared too badly other than that.

When they saw Captain Martin, they stumbled forward. But then Duncan stopped Mr Silk and whispered a curse as they noticed me.

“My God, we’re glad to have you back!” Captain Martin said.

I looked down at myself to see if I had a big glob of dirt on my coat. But I looked fine. When I lifted my gaze, they were taking turns shaking the captain’s hand and keeping a wary eye on me. Perhaps they were still spooked from the summoning at Cayonne. Well, they’d get over the shock. The rest of the crew had.

“Thank you, Captain. We’re immensely relieved, of course,” Mr Silk said. “We were lucky to get away.” He glanced at me. “The port was—”

“Oh yes,” Captain Martin spoke overtop of Mr Silk, whilst Duncan regarded me with visible horror. “Terrible business. But ’twas necessary, or we would all have perished.”

He glanced at me with a look on his face I’d never seen there before—sheepish and deceptive.

What the fuck was going on?

I glanced at Domingo, who stood near to Squid by the mizzenmast. Neither of them looked at me, and I wondered what was suddenly so fascinating about the wooden planks at their feet.

“Necessary?” Duncan spoke up now, his voice rough from dehydration, no doubt. “Truly? Necessary to demolish the entire town of Cayonne?”

Hushed silence followed. The captain coughed, his cheeks red with embarrassment.

Hillier spoke up, “No, no. Not as bad as that,” he said, looking at the captain and then at me.

Captain Martin got a hold of himself and smiled, the way he did when he was trying to appease an enemy. “Please tell me there’s a bottle of rum for your captain? And his right-hand man, of course—” He flourished a hand at me. “—who saved us all from certain death, so many times! To Simon White! Hip, hip, hooray!”

Hanes passed him a bottle, and he lifted it high, repeating the chant that no one took up on my behalf.

“Hip, hip, hooray!” he said, gazing about him with a silent entreaty.

Then the crew took up the chant with feigned enthusiasm, and everyone acted as if nothing had happened.

“What is going on?” I asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

Nobody heard me, of course. I watched the crew dance and jig and tipple. Dinesh spoke with put-upon joviality with a still wary and confused Silk and Duncan, and so I shouted at the top of my lungs.

“ What the fuck is going on!”

Everyone heard me. Domingo and Squid looked at me now, their eyes wide.

And the rest, as a group, stopped celebrating and stared at the deck as if they wanted the boards to swallow them up. I caught a few looks of abject terror at my outburst. But most didn’t even see me. A few glanced at the captain with questions in their eyes, then looked down again.

And Captain Martin watched me with the saddest look in his eyes—as if I’d just learned I had a horrible disease and was on my deathbed.

“What the fuck is wrong with everyone?” I asked Captain Martin, not in a loud or demanding way, but in genuine bafflement.

“Just tell him,” Hillier said, sounding weary and forlorn.

“Aye. You’ve got to,” Mr Guthrie agreed, whilst Squid came through and stood at my side.

Domingo joined him and reached for my hand. I let him wrap my fingers with his because I’d wager whatever truth was about to be revealed was going to be hard to hear.

“Tell me what?” I asked, quaking to hear the secret.

What had I done at Cayonne? What had they not told me?

“Let’s go to my rooms,” Captain Martin said in a gentle voice.

“No. Tell me here. Now.”

Captain Martin looked at Hillier, who spoke next, as Dinesh couldn’t get the words out.

“That storm you called up to save all of us, when you fell into the sea and came up and clutched onto the skiff…”

I nodded. I remembered that part. I repeated what they’d told me: “I burned the docks. That’s what the captain said. I burned the docks.”

Maybe if I kept saying the words, they would be the truth, not what they were about to tell me.

Domingo squeezed my hand as Hillier kept talking. Dinesh looked at the boards of the Arrow’s deck in silent regret.

“That storm… It ravaged the entire port,” Hillier said in low tones.

“Aye,” Mr Guthrie agreed. “The town itself. Cayonne.”

Horror filled me at his words.

I looked at the captain. “Is that true?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

I pulled my hand from Domingo’s grip and stepped toward Dinesh. “Then…you lied to me.”

He hesitated but then said, “Yes.”

“We thought it for the best,” Mr Guthrie explained.

The three of them looked at each other, as if wondering if that had been the best idea, after all.

I stared at Dinesh for a long moment, my heart lurching in my chest, both at this shocking information and at the sense of betrayal I felt. I blinked and shook my head as if I could deny the truth.

Then I marched to the rail, staring in the direction from which we’d come, feeling my bowels coil and my stomach reject the stew I’d eaten earlier. I saw the scorched handprints in the wood and placed my hands over them. So much death and destruction. Innocent lives lost. What had I done?

A hand came to rest on the small of my back as bile rose inside me. I leaned over the rail and retched.

The captain supported me, but when I was able, I wrenched myself away and ran for the only place I truly felt safe and at peace and alone. And where I could empty my protesting bowels without anyone watching.

I sat on the toilet in the privy, once my bowels had voided themselves in angry and violent protest, and thought about all the lives I’d ended. What was I that I could so easily kill so many, only to save those I loved? Could I keep saving our skins if my triumph meant that so many others would perish? Should I even try?

What a heavy burden to carry. And they’d known I’d have a hard time doing so. I couldn’t blame them for keeping the facts from me, but at the same time, I wished I’d known.

After some time, a knock came at the door.

“Go away,” I muttered.

There was a pause and then another two knocks.

“Christ, can’t a man take a shit in peace? Go. Away.”

There was a sigh and then Guthrie’s voice.

“I need to use the privy, Simon. Are you going to be done soon?”

For fuck’s sake. After what I’d been through, I wished I could have gotten some grace. There were other places where a man could take a shit. But I supposed that Guthrie, the ship’s cook, couldn’t be expected to use the hole tucked in the corner of the bow.

I put myself to rights, at least in terms of my appearance, got up, and opened the door.

“Thank you,” Mr Guthrie said, giving me a look of gratitude so sincere that I promptly burst into tears. I went to step aside, but he grabbed me and pulled me into his arms, circling them around me and holding me tight.

This proved to be exactly what I needed. My sobs came then, huge wracking cries that I worried might topple us both to the deck.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I blubbered. “You need to use the privy…”

“Nah, I don’t. That was a lie so you’d open the door.”

That made me cry harder. “Why is everyone lying to me?”

“Because we love you, Simon. Not just the captain. But he’s so far gone he couldn’t bear to tell you the truth himself. He had to let Hillier confess.”

Fine. All right. That did make me feel somewhat better. He did love me. I knew he did. But the rest of them? Why should they ?

“ Everyone ?”

“Simon, you’ve saved our lives three times now.”

The black cloud over me threatened to return.

“Yes, by killing loads of other people,” I muttered, feeling sick to my stomach again at the thought of all of those deaths.

“We’re pirates , Simon,” Mr Guthrie said. “We kill people all the time. The captain might like to use a fancier word for us, but that’s what we are. We’re all thieves and murderers.”

I made a sound like a laugh that turned into another sob.

“Not like me.”

He sighed. “No, not like you. But, you know, that there’s a cruel world, Simon White. An awfully cruel world. I don’t know where your magic comes from, or how you came into these abilities, or what they make you, but I thank God for them every day. I really do.”

“Truly? You don’t worry about…everything else?”

There was movement in the corner of my vision, and I spied Dinesh walking towards us with the aid of the walking stick. The walking stick he needed because of the wound he’d suffered. My heart filled, and I forgave him in that moment.

“No, I don’t,” Guthrie continued. “Because whatever powers you have, they ain’t a gift you have much control of, are they?”

“No,” I admitted.

Even when I’d deliberately called the storm on top of the storm, I hadn’t any idea of the breadth or the power of the result.

“Then it’s not your fault.”

I nodded and relaxed my grip on Guthrie’s jacket. “I suppose…perhaps…”

“I’ve got him, Mr Guthrie. You can go back on deck. The party’s resumed,” Captain Martin said.

Mr Guthrie stepped back and tipped his head to the captain. As he walked past, Captain Martin stopped him with a hand to his arm. “Thank you.”

“Aye. Well, he’s like a son to me now,” Guthrie muttered, and I almost started crying again.

Mr Guthrie took his leave, and Dinesh stood there, gazing at me with so much love and affection I could hardly bear it.

“I’m sorry I lied to you, Simon,” he said. “I was trying to protect you.”

I nodded, afraid to speak. If I opened my mouth I might lose the precarious control I had over myself.

I pointed at the walking stick.

He looked at the staff with a sigh. “The blasted thing’s turned out to be quite handy, in fact.” He focused on me with a look of concern. “Are you all right?”

The tears coursed down my cheeks, and I shook my head, and the captain came forward and caught me in his arms as my knees gave way. He held me close and whispered kind things into my ear and stroked the hair back from my forehead and kissed me all over my face. And I’d never felt so loved and cherished, ever in my whole life, except for when my mam had been alive.