Zeelandia

16. Of Cleansing

I knelt in the window, my shoulders shuddering with sobs as I stared at Zeelandia, lit in pale golds by the loom from the publick houses along the road. Such a beautiful ship.

Such a beautiful man.

Beautiful? Beauty? What is it? Seems each sees it differently. The breadth of shoulder, the strength of arm, of hand. The wondrous turn of his butt when he ascends the stairs. I shook my head. Think general, Cam, not of him.

Is it the curl of the hair? The set of the nose? The form of the lips? The intensity of the eyes? Oh, God! His eyes. I blew a deep breath as more tears flowed.

While I calmed, I pondered, realising true beauty is not seen; rather, it is felt, sensed by the soul. Beauty pours from within. The warmth, the kindness, the acceptance, the ever-glowing spark of life. The essence of a person – that is their beauty. The body simply gives it form. The more the essence attracts, the more beautiful the body... Movement across the road interrupted my thoughts.

Men streamed down Zeelandia's gangplank and assembled on the wharf, and when all were in place, Captain appeared at the rail of the quarterdeck. Oh, God! 

I trembled.

How long before these feelings pass? Will they pass? Will I forever be tormented by this?

Surely, if I can love one, I can find another to love.

The hubbub from the windows below prevented my hearing what Captain said to the crew as he pointed this way and that along the buildings fronting the wharves. A knock on my door distracted, and I crossed the room to it, calling as I neared, "Yes, who is there?"

"Yer bathing tub, basin n pot, Sir."

I unbolted the door and opened it to two young boys, and behind them stood two maidens with linens over their arms. "Please, come in."

"Water should'na be mor'na quarter-hour, Sir," a boy said as he wheeled the tub into the room.

"Thank you."

After the basin, ewer of water and chip of soap had been set on the table, and the pot beneath the bed, the boys left. The maidens busied themselves arranging my bed, stealing glances at me and blushing. They giggled and whispered to each other as they worked, and I smiled inwardly. Of course, I am a boy to them, and they find me attractive. This is similar to the behaviour I had watched in my cousins. But not ever understood.

Now I understand, but not fully.

I returned to the window, disappointed to see Captain no longer at the rail. I watched as the crew was divided into three groups, then as each was addressed by an older man. A short time later, the groups separated, one going left, one right and the middle one crossing the street, and I wondered their purpose.

Then it dawned. Of course, searching for the escaped slaves. Father had said each is worth dozens of guineas, and there is a bounty for capturing them. I winced. How unfair this all is, slavery. People treated as animals.

I turned to watch the two maidens, smiling at them and receiving blushes in return. When they had finished, they curtsied and headed out the door, and I bolted it behind them.

I returned to the window to see what activity, but within a few moments, another knock on the door, and a voice through it, "Yer hot water, Sir."

Back across the room, I opened the door. Four boys entered, and each set two kettles by the tub, and one asked, "Does ye wish I remain to assist, Sir? 'Tis only thruppence."

"Thank you, no. I can manage on my own." Then wondering, I asked, "How shall I empty the tub?"

"By this here, Sir." He bent and patted the big brass turncock on the spigot, then he pointed out into the hallway. "But don't ye worry. Jest wheel it out the door, n we'll drain it down into the lane where we dumps the pots."

While the boys headed out, deep voices sounded in the hallway, so I quickly closed the door behind them and bolted it. I looked at the tub and breathed a sigh, whispering, "Finally," as I unbuttoned my shirt, slipped it off and unbound my bosom, sighing again at the relief.

Then a quiet rap on the door. What now? I slipped my arms into the shirt sleeves as I asked, "Yes, who is there?"

"It is I, Camille."

Oh, God! That voice. I unbolted the door, and as soon as I had pulled it open, Captain swept me into a tight embrace.

I shuddered, sobbing as our bodies pressed close together. After a long silence, I blotted my tears on his shirt and lifted my head. "I thought I had lost you."

"Why had you left?"

"Because you had rejected me."

"I did not reject you; I rejected myself."

I puzzled with this a few moments, then I questioned, "Yourself? I do not understand."

"Mother had told me no woman wants a man unwashed and smelling, and she cautioned me to always be clean before touching." He unwrapped an arm and waved down his body. "I had not bathed since Cape Verde, and I needed to before we continued."

I nodded toward the copper tub and the kettles. "And I have not since Portsmouth, but for washing my nethers and asselles."

He tilted his head and twisted his face. "Is that what women call their arseholes?"

I chuckled. "No, it is the proper name for under our arms. The smelly place. After I had begun my changes, the laundry maid advised me to wash there every day, as well as below."

"The laundry maid, not your mother?"

"By this time, Mother had stopped talking with me."

He renewed the embrace, tighter this time, and I laid my head again on his chest, breathing silent sighs as we swayed together.

Quiet for a long while, then in a halting voice, he asked, "Might I... Would you allow me to kiss you, Camille?"

"I would love that, Sir."