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Chapter 17~ The Little Lion
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Back then, nobody ever realized just what they had until they’d lose it—as though the pain was necessary for gratitude. And as I silently sat in the darkness, holding a sleeping Edmund to my chest, I felt an odd sense of gratitude. My life would never go back to the quiet, oblivious lie that it was before. Who could tell exactly what changed? Not me, undoubtedly. People used to whisper and hiss my name, but now it’s shouted, even endeared.
Edmund’s back was covered by his raw leather jacket, and I sat stuck in my head and trying to figure a damn way out of this mess. So, I looked at this logically:
Tew had knowledge of my father’s location in Bombay. Since we were most likely near Madagascar, it would only take a solid week and a half to get to the Arabian Sea. That didn’t leave me much time at all. If only I had a way to warn him in time…
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The next day, I tried healing Edmund’s wounds. He instructed me through it the whole time, but our options were limited. What we were left with was badly made bandages out of shreds of cloth and a little alcohol to clean the gashes. It took me almost half an hour to steel myself enough to put alcohol on Edmund’s bare wounds. But, the job was finally done.
“Your leg is lookin' better,” said Edmund.
“Curious enough, I don’t feel it as much whenever I’m pissed off at you.”
We laughed.
“Oh, almost forgot.” Edmund dug into the pockets of his jacket and took out the old pack of cards.
“You still have it! I’d completely forgotten.” I smiled at his cheeky little smirk. We played All Fours for the rest of the day.
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Over the next few days, Edmund was never called back into his cabin boy duties, so we assumed Tew was ready to let him rot in hell with me. Edmund wasn’t too upset. The worst part, however, was the constant isolation from the outside world. My legs ached. Not from the Boot’s mark--no--but from the mad desire to run again, to dance, and to wiggle themselves underneath white sands. It was obvious how antsy Edmund became as well, pacing about the room and peering desperately out of the cracks in the walls.
“How have you not gone mad in here?” he asked me one day. I shrugged and smirked to myself sort of proudly.
“Only God knows. Perhaps I am mad, and you’re just a figment of my eager imagination. I sure wouldn’t be surprised. Edmund, what day was it when you were last free from this room?”
“Um, let’s see…the fourteenth, yes, March fourteenth.”
“Oh,” I muttered without another thought.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing’s wrong. I just turned eighteen last month.” This had some effect on Edmund to a significant degree. He began chuckling in a lighthearted way, something that we rarely got much of. It soothed me like a melody.
“What are you laughing about?” I scolded.
“Well, we’ve got to celebrate your birthday, haven’t we?”
“What?”
“It’s your eighteenth birthday, Constantine. For my eighteenth, I stole myself an extra potato from storage.”
“That sounds awfully nice to me.”
“I’m sayin' I want to do somethin' for you, lass.”
It was my turn to laugh. And I laughed hard.
“That’s sweet of you, Edmund, but I don't think now is the best time.”403Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg7Bvfq2uDZ
“It’ll never be the best time. I’ll think of somethin'.”
I rolled my eyes and grinned to myself. But, inside, my heart was glowing soft yellow light.
Edmund spent the rest of the day planted in the corner of the room with his knife and a chunk of floorboard he’d pried loose. I tried to teach myself Faro with old crackers and imagination. And he carved that wooden lump until there was a pile of brown curls on the floor.
He’d finished at nightfall. My eyelids fell heavy, and I was just at the brink of sleep when a voice and the shake of my arm woke me.
There sat Edmund without an ounce of fatigue in his eyes. He held something behind his back and wore a grin too big for words.
“What? What is it?” I slurred, half-asleep and half-wishing I could kill him. He pulled me up to a sitting position and revealed the present behind him. It was a little wooden figure of a lion, carved to exceptional detail. Its jaws were open wide, revealing a mass of small, dull teeth. Its mane was thick and grew down its smooth back. There was even a tail.
Edmund slipped the lion into my palms and closed my fingers around it. “It’s not much, but I saw a drawin' of this once in a book. I want you to have it so whenever you're feelin' like you can’t go on, you can look at it and know just how strong you really are.” 403Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3VikYaRBtg
I was in awe of the little gift. No one had ever given me anything so meaningful. With a quick movement, I pulled the Cabin Boy into an embrace and slowly melted into his warmth. And he held me back with a kind of desperate grip that only quickened my heartbeat.
“It’s beautiful, Edmund. It’s the most beautiful gift I’ve ever received. Thank you.” 403Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡosbgx6fl13
He grinned proudly as if he’d just been awarded all the riches in the world.
“Ay, but you’re my most beautiful treasure, lass,” he charmed. 403Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdHD4OjLVpP
I laughed and clutched the little lion to my chest. “Do you tell all the girls that?”
“Only the ones who deserve it, love.”
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As more and more days passed, the wounds on Edmund’s back began their slow healing process by covering themselves with a nasty crust that had to be carefully cleaned every night. And Edmund never entirely sat right with me doctoring him, although I knew it was his own pride that made him dangerously quiet while I did his job for him. And many times, he even begged me to let him take care of himself.
“Edmund--”
“You don’t need to be seein' this, Constantine. You need to be lettin' yourself heal 'stead of worryin' about me.”
“Edmund--”
“I can take care of myself. And it’s not that I don’t appreciate it, lass—I do!—Just…this is a mess I got myself into. I should clean it up.”
“Edmund!” 403Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ99wvIbf1lL
He finally hushed and watched me, slightly frightened. I put a hand on his arm and tried to give a comforting smile before making the blow.
“You need to stop being such a coward and hold still.”
I pressed the rag to his skin again, and he hissed viciously, “You’re sure one for the dramatics, eh?”
I then turned back to wounds, but something else had caught Edmund’s attention. His body stiffened, muscles clenched, and his head craned around to the door. There behind it came the muffled voice of Thomas Tew.
Both of us shared a brief look before creeping across towards the door. We pressed our ears against the grainy surface and strained eagerly for any sort of sound.
“What’s he saying?” I whispered. Edmund didn’t reply, only screwed shut his eyes in concentration. But, right after, I heard decipherable words in the distance.
“Every…partnered with us…sailing…Red Sea…overthrow him…riches…”
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As soon as I connected the string of words together, I tore myself away from the door and heaved my breaths.
“What? What is it? What did you hear?” Edmund pressed, scurrying to my side.403Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcJc418fIh2
“I think Tew is planning to partner with my father to sail somewhere near here. They’re supposed to be enemies! What prize could be so grand that my father would resort to calling for Tew’s help?”
Edmund sighed, grabbed a fistful of his caramel-colored locks in frustration, and groaned.
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“I shoulda seen this comin'! There’s an Indian fleet that passes through Mecca every year 'round this time. It holds the grandest riches in all of Asia. Any man who captures it would certainly be the wealthiest pirate on the seas. Of course your father would be havin' a go at it.”
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“Edmund, Tew may be planning to slaughter my father in the process.”
The Cabin Boy rested a hand behind my head and gently comforted me while humming a calming consolation in my ear.
“Nothing's done just yet, love. It’s true that Tew may have little reason to keep us alive anymore, but there is no way that any fight he puts up would stand against your father’s vessel. We have—what?—sixty men and a measly little sloop-of-war. Your father is rumored to be holdin' hundreds of men over the last couple of weeks. He’s a livin' legend, Constantine. And though he be made ruthless, he is always victorious. So, don’t waste your thoughts on false worry.”
What he said was quite convincing, for I no longer felt the shivering anxiety in my skin. All I could feel was his arms wrapped around my torso and his chin resting in the warm crevice of my neck.
“Oh, my father would simply despise you,” I laughed. 403Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjl5l9yZEUn
He returned the chuckle and nuzzled in further. “Love is hell, I suppose.”
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The days passed in quietness. Our food rations mocked us both, with one single serving daily. Consistently, Edmund insisted I take the whole ration. But, I fought his humble protests like we were in a war. In the end, however, I always won and made him eat at least half. He never saw me giving him the bigger half of the stale bread.
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In return, he trained me to walk again. The first few attempts were agony, and I could hardly put any pressure on the mutilated leg. But, we took it slow—together. I kept a tight cloth wrap around the leg, so it was stiff and somewhat useful. And by the end of the week, I could limp on my own. The progress was slow as were the days. But, we kept busy. We told stories and talked about our lives. I learned of Edmund’s older sister Gretchen who ran away from their home in Weymouth when he was young and was never heard from again. And I told him about my godmother and my travels all over England.
And by the middle of that next week, we’d expected some sort of excitement. I awaited the excitement desperately. There was no way to know how close my father was anymore. We could be sailing alongside him. Hell, he could’ve been aboard. Did he even know where I was? Did he not care? What if the Indian fleet was the only thing my father had in mind anymore?
I had to stop myself short multiple times throughout the day to remind myself that my father was not a bad man. He wasn’t the villain here, and I had no authority to doubt him. Did I?
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When the nights would fall—and they always did—I’d evolved from my cold, separated, and huddled sleeping position to a nest that Edmund and I had built. We’d creep into the warmest corner of the room, Edmund would lie flat and pillow his head in his arm, and I would lie my head against his chest. It became very easy to warm up against him. He’d drape his jacket across me, and, sometimes, I’d pinch his sides, hoping he’d squeal. I kept the little wooden lion curled in my hand underneath me. Edmund would use his other hand to hold mine. And while all this was pleasant, I could not deny the greatest pleasure in it all.
Every night when I had my ear pressed against Edmund’s chest, I could hear a beating—a tiny, relentless drum. And, it made me smile until my cheeks ached. Because we were alive.
When I first arrived on the bloody ship, I was certain death was imminent and I’d never make it as far as I did.
And though Tew’s new scheme to destroy my father would likely kill me in the process, I didn’t care. I had him. I had the Cabin Boy. And even death couldn’t destroy that happiness.
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