I was near full stunned by the whole experience. Still naked and moist, I flopped back down upon me bed and tried to ponder the situation: what had happened, what it meant and what might be the repercussions. But me brain could only concentrate on what had happened. It ran over and over in me mind, repeating and overlapping–like the singing of a round–and with certain parts enunciated, thus heightened and sharpened in me mind's eye. In this delicious, post-euphoric, self-induced trance, I drifted once more to sleep–and to such dreams as make you reluctant to ever wake again.
I lived, quite happily, in me erotic dream world, 'til near nightfall. Then I awoke. And when I awoke, 'twas with a troublesome thought which grabbed me consciousness, danced 'round me brain, and then plummetted to the pit of me stomach. What if the Oglethorpe sister talks about this–about us? She may be out there, now, talking about this–about us. To her sister! To Oglethorpe! To the captain... and Mam'... and... oh m'God, to Annalea! They'll all know! If they don't know already, they soon will. That look upon her face–that glow–and that gleam in her eye. She'll have to talk. She'll want to talk. She'll talk!
There was naught I could do about it. I could not prevent it, nor amend it. Mayhaps I could deny it. After all, was I not the innocent in this episode? 'Course, no one else would see it that way. Doubtless, I'd be accused of seducing this young innocent: luring her to me cabin and debauching her–stealing the fragrance from the flower, defiling the petals of first bloom.
Well, there was no use to hiding away in me cabin. Should an angry mob decide to storm me barricades and drag me without, I'd look a cringing, coward of a man. And that was not Crockett! Crockett can face anything! Crockett can face any man–or girl.
With me ire thus aroused (and me clothes on), I pushed aside the cabin door and stepped outside. But I was not greeted by angry petitioners or curious inquisitors. In fact, it appeared to be a rather humdrum time aboard ship. There were men set around, working fids, and women working needles–all occupied in the continual routine of maintaining and repairing. Some were chatting, some were singing–all seemed complacent. Well, 'twas hardly a mob pressing for a hanging.
I strutted by them with an air of carefree abandon.
"Yo ho, Mr. Crockett!" "Right, ho, Mr. Crockett!" "Aye, aye, Crockett!" "There is the man!" Lexical bombs exploded around me. I stopped and turned about to face me fate. With a stern expression and a set jaw, I scanned their faces and awaited their remonstrations. They, however, became silent, and displayed on their faces the expressions of children who'd just been scolded.
"Mind them not, Papa! They'd just love a bit of fun at your expense!" Annalea had snuck up upon me and put her arm around mine.
I thought to sweat through this, "Um, how so, pet?"
"They are just jealous. No one shall set forth a banquet in their honour. And not a man amongst them could endure through such ribaldry as you do."
"What?!"
"Oh! Sorry, Papa, I meant that in a good way! What I mean to say... well, there is no man equal to you, Papa!"
Acceptable. Non-accusatory. She did not know. She surely did not know! Nor did any of 'em. Not those clucking chickens on the deck, not Annalea, not the captain or Mam' or Orke–or any of 'em. The girl had not talked–yet!
I thought meself in the clear–at least for the moment. Feeling, now, particularly chipper, I continued me stroll about the ship, whistling a favourite ditty as I went along. But when I spied Oglethorpe coming me way–walking arm and arm with the daughter–I abruptly swallowed me tune and turned about face. But–of course–they hailed me down afore I could make good me escape. Once again, I had a sinking feeling which plunged to the pit of me stomach. I felt a right thief, caught with the goods. Only–in this case–the goods were hanging on Oglethorpe's arm.
Apparently, me guilt-driven angst was reflected in me facial expressions; for Oglethorpe noticed something was amiss and asked if I was sick.
"No... no, but I may yet be," was me cryptic answer. He apologized for disturbing me. They were on their way to sup with the captain and–spotting me–thought to inquire about me plans.
Having not found me about, all day, he'd been curious of me whereabouts, and welfare. He'd hoped I'd not been stricken down by the very party that was supposed to lift me up. Oglethorpe was on his way to me cabin, some hours ago, to discover for hisself what state I was in. "Unfortunately," he'd been waylayed by the captain and Estaban, on matters regarding their venture. By the time he finally broke from them, he met up with his daughter. She informed him she'd just come from me cabin, and I was quite firm and fit! I let out an audible groan.
The daughter told of spending the day in me "good care" after having spent the night visiting with Annalea. He expressed his eternal gratitude for all I'd done–and continued to do–for his daughter. If he'd only known all I'd done!
Oglethorpe commented on me pale complexion and appearance of queasiness.
"In truth, dear friend, there is something gnawing in the pit of me stomach–which I cannot describe to you. But–for certain–'tis something I had last night."
He seemed quite concerned, as if 'twere his fault.
"No, no," I said, "I most certainly did this to meself, and am quite deserving of the consequences."
The Oglethorpe daughter interrupted us. "Now, Papa, we must not keep the captain waiting. And we're detaining poor Mr. Crockett."
She wrapped her arms 'round me neck and pulled me hard to her breast. Straight to me face, she said, "I thank you, body and soul, Mr. Crockett, for all I've learned at your kind, gentle hands–and for the delights of the world you have shown and made known to me. I shall never forget. And I shall never forget you!"
I smiled–feebly. I wanted to shout, "Shut up, girl! Shut up!" But, with father there, I said nothing. I just smiled sheepishly.
Then she said, "'Til we meet again!" and published a most succulent and passionate kiss upon me lips, afore departing with father.
"Again?" Me brain was racing. "Meet again? That must not be repeated," I thought. "Does she plan to come to me, again?"
Now I had more to fret about. "Will she talk? Of course she'll talk. But when–and to whom? And when will she attempt to repeat that liaison? Tonight? Tomorrow night? Every night? What does she expect from this affair? Instruction? Love? Marriage?!"
Now I had much to fret about!
Mayhaps it is unnecessary to mention that I had not taste for the grape, that night–or for many nights to come. I felt about it much as I would a friend who recklessly beckons you follow him down danger's path; then deserts when the real trouble starts. So it was with this "friend;" it put me in the place, and mood and temperament for reckless adventure, but had nothing to offer–or to soothe me conscience–when I fell into it all, face first!
I returned to me cabin quite late–and quite apprehensive–that night. I stepped in, cautiously, lit the lantern, looked about, and inspected the bed to ensure I was quite alone. Satisfied I was on me own, I secured–and barricaded–the cabin door. Now, I could finally relax. I stripped off me togs, and prepared for me bed.
I'd hardly found comfort when came a rattling of the cabin door. I thought to ignore it! I blew out the light and went very, very still.
"Mis-ter Croc-kett," came a soft, silky female voice. "Mis-ter Croc-kett. I know you are in there!"
Still, I attempted to ignore her; 'though, honestly, the thought of her–the nearness of her–tempted me, sorely. Then, she demanded entry! Oh, m'God, she was getting louder and louder! I'd soon have the entire ship's complement at me cabin door!
I rose, naked, and dashed to the door. I pulled away the barricade and pressed me head fast against the door. In somewhat of a whispered shout, I said to her, "Darling girl! I am flattered. I am honoured. I am eager. But this is wrong! We can do this no more! You must forget this–and return to your father!"
"Me father?" came back a female giggle.
"And him dead these seven years?"
I knew by the response, it was one of the sisters: one of the right sisters. Then I heard two female voices, simultaneously exhorting me for hiding out behind locked doors. It was the right sisters–both sisters! I gladly flung the cabin door open and greeted them, forgetting I'd not a stitch of cloth 'twixt me manly flesh and their intensely scrutinizing eyes. Their expressions of amazement and interest–and their harmonized girly laughter–reminded me of me state of undress. I ushered them in, hurriedly.
"Been a bit overanxious for the company of women, friend Crockett?" Sarah was the first to issue a snide remark.
"And from the way you've hid yourself from us, of recent, we'd expected to find you shy and aloof. But this is not a timid member which stands afore our eyes!" Cynthia must have her say, and make her point.
"Dearest ladies, you've no idea how excited I am by your presence."
"Well, we can see that most clearly, love," Cynthia responded.
To which Sarah quickly added, "And so shall everyone else, if you don't close that door!"
The door went shut, in the quick to!
Well, let me assure you, I did all that I could to make it up with–and to–the sisters that night. To keep them happy and satisfied, and stay in their good graces, would be me salvation from the Oglethorpe sister. If me free hours were spent cavorting with the sisters, there should be no opportunity of a recurrence with the sister! And so, a nightly dalliance with me sisters–Sarah and Cynthia–kept me well lubricated, and therefore able to slip through the clutches of anyone who might hope to grasp me–or grasp me heart!
But the day I dreaded–the day of reckoning–never came. The lass never approached me again, 'cept in the company of her father, her sister, Annalea or some of the others. And upon reflection, I feel the fool for wasting so much time and effort vainly trying to avoid the girl–literally trying to hide away, as if one could hide for long on a ship at sea. If you were not discovered, 'twas 'cause you were not sought!
And fearing the looks of scorn and condemnation on the faces of others–once all was revealed–I'd avoided contact and pleasant company with me shipmates through all this time. I could not even face Mam' Tiére. I imagined her righteous indignation and the wrath that would follow! Of course, I could not shun me Annalea. I would bear any scorn, any retribution–any shame–afore I'd suffer separation from me beloved child.
Then, of course, there were me shields–me nightly deterrents to the Oglethorpe girl: the sisters. It seems a remarkable irony, to me, that a man alone amongst women–in their world–is as ill placed as a cod fish in a desert; but men and women alone with naught but each other for comfort and support, create a world of their own–far better than the world we otherwise occupy. And thus continued me days and nights until that time–'bout mid afternoon on a sparkling, bright day–when we rendezvoused with the ship which the captain had "commissioned" to carry the Oglethorpes (and their treasure) to their new life. There was a great deal of fluster and commotion and gaiety, in preparing them off the ship–what with farewells and best wishes and scores of hands to shake and scores of cheeks to kiss.
I still was playing me own little game of hide-and-don't-seek, fool that I was. But I thought I was doing right; that I'd been very careful to avoid a tempest, and there'd soon be smooth sailing ahead, for me. Oglethorpe would not be launched, however, 'til he'd found his "good friend," Mr. Crockett, and said farewell. Annalea led the pursuit. Once found–and scolded for delaying all–I surrendered to me fate.
I extended an awkward farewell to Oglethorpe and the other daughter. But I near panicked when the daughter pulled me aside to speak privately. I believed she'd now expose all–and make her demands.
She took both me hands in hers and said, "You shall always be in me heart, as a most special friend. You've done so much for me, and I hope I've repaid you. Will you remember me?"
"Always, dear heart!" Me own words took me by surprise, as if spaken by another. She had the same marvelous glow to her face, as I remembered from afore. She hugged me and kissed me on the lips, and then on each cheek, and then again on the lips. She turned, and I watched her walk out of me life, gracefully–like a lady–as a woman.
All of me concerns had been for naught. I'd allowed me foolish guilt to cause me to act like a child. She had simply needed to use me. Not in some harmful way: not in some childish game. But in her passage to maturity. Had I been mature–not acting the willful child–I'd've realized and appreciated how she honoured me. 'Twas–after all–not a mere sexual thing; she could have had her pick of many younger, far more handsome, studs than me. 'Twas a matter of complete trust–of confidence in me abilities and consideration in providing for her needs. 'Twas a matter of giving herself over with full confidence and affection for the man who'd be her first.
Once I realized all this, I found I was glowing, meself. Annalea commented about the blush on me cheeks. "Did her affectionate farewell embarrass you, Papa?"
"Not at all, me child! Not at all!"
I felt very good about meself, actually. Not in that cocky, boastful way I'd impressed meself when I thought me golden-tongued sermons had done so much for the girl. But in a deeper, truer, far more personal way. For I knew that I had touched another person's soul, and made it lighter–happier. And I knew she'd done precisely the same for me. And this private, intimate knowledge was far more gratifying than the superficial adulation one receives from the arrogant public display of one's "virtues."
Chapter XXIII
A Most Reluctant Visitor