"Before you know it you'll be my age telling your own granddaughter the story of your life and you wanna make it an interesting one, don't you? You wanna be able to tell her some adventures, some excitements, some something. How you live your life, little one, is a gift for those who come after you, a kind of inheritance." Cristina Garcia, I Wanna Be Your Shoebox
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XVI.
Eliza concluded her letter to Katy with a plea. She pleaded that her sister try to calm their mother. She was too cowardly to address a letter to her mother. What words could possibly rectify Eliza's actions? Only Eliza's physical presence would do that, and she would have to be on her hands and knees begging for her mother's forgiveness.
Eliza knew Katy would be just as angry, but she would be the more likely to forgive her.
She folded the letter and addressed it, before using the melting wax from the table's candle to seal it. Eliza blew on it and then pocketed the letter, resolving to find a British ship to send it back with. Though, after hearing that Captain Buckley had not been able to find her passage home, she was not at all optimistic in being able to find one.
Eliza looked up at the Captain, who was now sitting at the bar with his back to her. For one so determined to be rid of her, he had certainly not spent very long searching for her passage home.
"Eliza Lee!" called Diarmuid from the corner of the tavern.
Eliza turned her head to see both Diarmuid and Cian draped in scantily clad women. They were not the only ones. The entire crew scattered about the large tavern, in and amongst sailors and crewmen from other docked vessels. There were at least a dozen ladies present who were doing their best to entertain the men, not that it was very difficult.
"Come and join us!" encouraged Cian. "Have a drink!"
Eliza looked away but felt her cheeks warm. No, she did not think that she would like to partake in whatever the crew were getting up to. Instead, she hurried up to the bar and quickly got the attention of the burly looking innkeeper.
He immediately looked upon her with a disapproving scowl and wiped his hands on his grubby apron before placing them on the bar in front of her.
"Might I have a drink please?" she asked tentatively. "Whatever you recommend."
"No women," he grunted. "Including women who dress like men."
Eliza frowned. "But those women are drinking." She pointed her finger behind her towards the ...wenches.
"Those girls are working," he snapped. "Unless a man is going to buy for you, off with you." He shooed her away with his hands.
Eliza's mouth was agape, and she could have sworn she saw the hint of a smile on Captain Buckley's face. She knew she had to be imagining that as Captain Buckley did not smile.
But he certainly was not making any move to buy her a drink. He just sipped his water calmly.
"Pour her some port, old man," chuckled a man who was sitting at the bar to her left. He slapped a coin down on the bar and the tender was quick to collect it.
Eliza turned towards him. He was an older man, a sailor by the look of his skin, and he wore a light cotton shirt appropriate for the hot temperature. His hat was on the bar beside him, and he was offering Eliza a sly smile of encouragement.
Eliza suddenly had a gut feeling to turn the drink down. "Really, you are too kind," Eliza said tensely. "That is not necessary. I would rather buy my own drink."
Nevertheless, a port was bought and poured for her, and placed before her in a cloudy glass. Eliza had no desire to drink it.
As quick as a snake, the sailor had slithered over to her, touching her arm with his. "Well, if you are determined to pay ..." he whispered cunningly, before his hand moved to her rear. Before she could even realise what was happening, he was squeezing her backside.
Eliza cried out in shock and horror as she slapped his hand away. She balled her hand into a fist and threw it with all her might towards the sailor's nose, but he caught her hand effortlessly, laughing, as he batted it away.
Eliza suddenly found herself being lifted, another arm had wound around her waist and she was whipped around. Captain Buckley was now standing between her and the snake-like sailor.
"Yet another skill in which you are inept, Eliza," he uttered, before he threw his fist up as quick as a flash of lightning.
The crunch that she heard as the captain's fist connected with the sailor's nose was sickening, and the subsequent gushing of blood was enough to turn one's stomach right over.
The sailor clutched his nose, blood spilling over his hands and onto the bar and floor. With his spare hand, he seized one of the bottles of alcohol from behind the bar and swung, the glass colliding and shattering against the captain's temple.
Glass and amber liquid went everywhere as every sailor came running towards the commotion. They did not seem to need a motive to engage in a fight as every man seemed to wail on another purely because he was standing in a convenient location.
Eliza's view was quickly blocked as Captain Buckley stood back against her, pushing her with his back against the wooden bar. She could not move if she tried, but it did not escape her attention that he was protecting her from every fist and glass bottle thrown.
The ruckus did not last longer than a few minutes as a pistol was fired in the air by the burly tender as he ordered every man out and onto the street. The captain held onto Eliza's elbow as he guided her out into the blistering sun, as though he was afraid she was going to wander off.
Eliza had to shield her eyes from the sun. She had not experienced such heat before in her life and was quite convinced that there were two suns. The real sun, and then it's weak little brother who shone over England.
"I am sorry, Captain!" Eliza exclaimed as he dragged her back towards the ship.
Her exclamation made him stop in his tracks. Captain Buckley released her elbow and turned to face her, revealing a rather nasty gash above his eyebrow which was weeping blood steadily. "You are sorry?" he repeated, frowning. The motion seemed to pain him, and he immediately stopped. "Why?"
"Oh, the fight!" she cried. "And your face! You have a nasty cut!"
Captain Buckley shook his head. "Eliza, when you have something to be sorry about, I will tell you. Have I not set this precedent?" he asked bluntly.
Eliza clamped her mouth shut, but sheepishly nodded. She knew that to be true.
His face softened for a moment, which looked extraordinarily alarming considering the blood that was dripping down the side. "No man, not your husband, your friend, your acquaintance, or a stranger, has a rightto you," he said firmly. "If I have learned anything –" he continued, but he stopped himself. Captain Buckley did not finish his sentence. Instead, he abruptly turned back around, motioned to Eliza to follow him, and he headed back towards the ship.
Eliza followed, but was still quite in shock as she comprehended the gentleman-like comment of the rough captain. He had defended her honour and protected her like a gallant hero. And he had behaved that way for a reason. He had stopped himself from revealing that reason. It made Eliza wonder. Perhaps he had a sweetheart? A broken heart? She had longed believed that sad, tragic endings were quite the best. To feel such a way for a lost love was quite her ideal.
But Eliza found that she did not quite feel that way as she looked at the back of Captain Buckley. He walked with such intensity, as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Eliza did not wish him any pain. In fact, the thought of him in pain was quite unsettling to her.
They two were the only ones who had returned to the ship. The other sailors had all moved onto another establishment that would serve them the drink and company that they wanted.
"Captain," Eliza called as they arrived back on deck. "Please, let me help you in tending your cut. You might need stitches."
"It is just a scratch," the captain said dismissively. "No need to fuss."
Eliza smiled as an idea came to her. She did not know if it would work, but it seemed to work for Captain Buckley whenever he wanted Eliza to go anywhere. She crossed the distance between them and grabbed him by the arm, momentarily surprised at how strong it felt underneath his deceptively baggy sleeve. She shook it off quickly and pulled him towards the steps that led up to his cabin. Much to her surprise, and subsequent satisfaction, he followed her.
Eliza led him into the cabin and instructed him to sit down on the bed. He did as he was told and placed his hand in his lap. Eliza fetched the basin from in the privy and the clean cloth that she had been planning on using later to bathe. She lastly collected her little sewing kit from the drawer in Captain Buckley's desk.
She had set the basin down on the bed beside the captain. Eliza wet the cloth and then pressed it onto Captain Buckley's forehead. She felt him stiffen, but he expressed no pain.
"Sorry," she apologised.
"When you have something to be sorry for, I will tell you," he reminded her quietly.
Eliza cleaned the blood away, wiping his face clean. The captain had closed his eyes, and he seemed to be concentrating on breathing evenly. He said nothing, and Eliza presumed that he was trying not to appear weak. As she cleaned his face, Eliza noticed several other little scars, nicks and cuts from his time at sea that had left their mark on his skin. This one, though, would be the largest, and she was not at all sure she would be able to stich it neatly. She had never stitched skin before.
"I am afraid I will not be able to leave a pretty scar," Eliza said regretfully.
"My face was not pretty to begin with," murmured Captain Buckley. "Do what you must. I do not mind."
Eliza raised her eyebrows. "Was that a joke, Captain?"
"Don't be ridiculous," chided Captain Buckley, though Eliza could now tell the difference in his tone from when he was really displeased.
Eliza threaded her needle and hoped that normal cotton would do the same job as a physician would. She wondered if it was too late to locate one. Taking a deep breath, she stuck her needle underneath the Captain's skin, shallow enough to bring it through, before piercing the skin on the other side of the cut.
The captain did not flinch and remained perfectly still. Eliza was standing so close to him, concentrating so deeply on her stitches that he must have been feeling her breath on his forehead. Eliza stitched as carefully, but as quickly, as she could, and closed the scar with nine stitches that even her mother ought to have been proud of. She had been listening during her sewing lessons after all.
"All finished," Eliza said proudly, taking a step back to admire her handiwork.
The Captain's black eyes opened, and Eliza could see they were hard and fixed. He was in pain.
"Can I fetch you something to drink?" Eliza asked. "Some rum?"
"No," he said firmly.
Eliza knew that he curiously did not touch alcohol. "Not even a thimbleful?" she pressed. "It might help."
"No, not even a thimbleful," he refused. He took a deep, pained breath. "Thank you," he said quietly, yet gratefully.
Eliza offered him a small smile. "It was the least I could do. I hope it did not hurt too much. I am not a surgeon ... or even a great seamstress."
"You seemed to have managed with my shirt and breeches just fine," Captain Buckley replied, referring to her sewing jobs on the garments to make them fit. "Now, can you tell me, Eliza? What were you trying to do when you threw your fist as that cretin?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Was it not obvious?" she asked. "I was trying to break his nose. You succeeded." Eliza could still hear that sound of that man's nose crunching. It was not a sound she was likely to forget. "You did call me inept if you recall," she reminded him curtly.
"I do recall," he replied, almost smugly. "But if there is one skill you need if you are going to continue on your journey with my crew, it is how to properly punch a man. Make a fist."
Eliza obeyed, and curled her fingers into, what she thought was, a normal fist.
Captain Buckley stared at her, before admonishing her with a scoff. "You would be lucky to tickle a man with a fist like that. Watch me."
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Sorry this a day later than promised - we've had family staying at my aunty's so we've been over at their house for the last three days and my laptop has been here. Now we have been reunited and I've been able to write haha.
But Merry Christmas!! I hope you all had a fantastic holiday with your family, friends, and friends who are family! I hope Santa spoiled you all! I was very lucky :)
But it's been nice the last few days just chilling with my family and relaxing while trying not to cook in the Aussie sun. Our pool is currently empty as we are waiting for our pool guy to install a new thingy that churns the water or whatever and so it's currently out of action and I'm dying. Ive got my fan on directly at my face at the minute or I will be too hot to sleep.
On Boxing Day after Christmas I woke up at 5am and hit the sales. I bought a new curling iron that just burnt my hair so that had to be returned and then I bought a crap ton of xmas decorations half off woohoo.
I collect nutcrackers and fairy/ballerina ornaments (like the ballet haha) so I added to my ever expanding collection.
I'm now in that limbo between xmas and new year so I'm thinking of rotating my room around tomorrow just for a change.
Gee, my life is so exciting!
Anyway, I hope you all had a fantastic Christmas!
Vote and comment!!