Shore Leave Book 6 of The Education of Jonathan Riley Chapter One Portsmouth December 1801. The rain had eased by the time Jonathan reached the dock and hailed a row boat to take him out to the Indy. Jonathan's mood however was slowly dampening as he thought about Kerrison. How would the Mate view Jonathan's offer of a night ashore? Perhaps he was still upset over Jonathan's decision to just be friends and would see this turnaround as being nothing more than a reaction to the end of Jonathan's relationship with Archie Kennedy? Kerrison might not even be aboard, having already gone ashore in search of his own pleasure. Jonathan sighed. Would life always be this complex? Was this constant juggle of feelings and relationships the price one paid for growing up? The Indy loomed huge and black through the fog that was slowly rolling into the harbour. Behind him, the lights of Portsmouth were disappearing. Jonathan climbed the entry port, wondering where to begin his search for Kerrison. "Yer back early!" The Mates voice made Jonathan jump. Kerrison was leaning against the bulwark, waiting to board the small row-boat. "Yes," Jonathan began uncertainly. "Do you have plans ashore?" Kerrison carefully avoided Jonathan's eyes, peering through the fog towards the town. "Thought I'd go check out the blowings, see if I can find a clean one to keep me company for the night," he replied matter-of-factly as he moved towards the port. "Oh," Jonathan felt his heart beating wildly, knowing he had to speak now before Kerrison left. "I'll keep you company for the night if you like? Why not come ashore with me instead." Kerrison snorted, "I rather had something else in mind other than making small talk, if yer know what I mean." "So did I. What do you say, Kerrison? You and me." Kerrison spun around, his hazel eyes looking almost green. "Didn't yer get enough of it with your Mr Kennedy, then?" There was an uncharacteristic edge of anger in the quiet reply. Jonathan paled, knowing he deserved Kerrison's rebuff. "It's over between Mr Kennedy and myself. I told him so." "YOU told HIM?" Nothing could hide the shock on Kerrison's face. The mate shook his head as if he didn't quite believe what he had heard. "We met up with...well, it doesn't really matter who...I realised that...well...he and I...I'm not the one he really wants and he's not the one..." Jonathan pushed his damp hair back from his face, searching for the right words; the words that would make Kerrison understand. But understand what? There was no simple way to say it. "I'd rather spend my time with you, Kerrison. I...like you and I want us to be more than friends." Kerrison raised an eyebrow and fixed Jonathan with a cautious grin. "I see! Changed yer mind again have yer?" "Yes, I have," Jonathan pressed on. "And I thought you might like to come ashore with me. We could get a room somewhere. For the night...and we could.." "A room? Together? With a bed?" Kerrison had tilted his head to one side and was grinning a little more now. "Well yes, but if you'd rather not..." Perhaps Kerrison no longer felt the same way about him. "Oh it's not that...I just never done it in a bed with a lad. It might be nice to try it." "Never?" Jonathan found that hard to believe. "No beds on board ship but for the officer's and I've never been invited in to one of them." "But what about shore leaves? Haven't you ever.." Kerrison shook his head. "I spend my time with women when I'm ashore. I done it in a bed with women, whores mostly, but not always." "Women? Oh.." Would Kerrison never cease to surprise him? Jonathan felt like a fool. Was it only the absence of women that had caused Kerrison to turn to other men? Something done from necessity rather than preference? "I didn't realise, I'm sorry." Jonathan turned to go, hoping for a graceful retreat but Kerrison's strong hand caught his elbow and held him firmly. "That's not to say I'd not like to do it with you, Mr Riley." The purr was back in his voice and when Jonathan turned again he saw a wicked glint in the hazel eyes. "I'd like to go ashore with yer, all right. But yer got to do something for me first?" "Oh?" Suddenly Jonathan felt out of his depth. "What do I have to do?" He really didn't know Kerrison very well at all and except for their two brief trysts below decks Jonathan had no experience with encounters like this. All he knew was Archie, who had cocooned him in silk and taken great care with him because of his own experiences. Reality might be very different. "Yer got to promise me that we can start with the kissing part first this time. I liked that." Jonathan smiled in relief and laughed at his own dark thoughts. "Yes, I liked that too and you'll like it more when we have lots of time and don't have to stand up." Perhaps he'd even be able to show Kerrison a few things. "Now you'll have to do something for me too, Mr Kerrison." "Oh yeah? And what's that Mr Riley?" "Tell me your Christian name?" The question took Kerrison by surprise and Jonathan thought he could detect a faint blush beneath Kerrison's tan. "It's the same as your's Mr Riley, but not quite as fancy. John." "John," Jonathan whispered, wondering if he could get used to this new name. "Yeah, but no one ever calls me that. I get called Jack most times, or just Kerrison." "Well I will call you Jack and you may call me Jonathan. Would you like that?" Kerrison frowned and pushed his hair out of his eyes while he considered that. "Feels a bit strange. I kinda like the way yer say Kerrison, yer make it sound all hot. But maybe we can do it when we're alone. It'll be like a secret thing, yer know?" A secret thing; Jonathan liked the sound of that. Chapter Two They returned to the inn where Jonathan and Archie had dined earlier. But as they entered the establishment, Jonathan once more began to worry. Did he have enough money for the room? Should he ask if Kerrison had eaten? Perhaps he should buy a bottle of something to drink? Wine, port, brandy? How much did such things cost? As Jonathan hesitantly made his way over to the landlord, Kerrison handed him several coins. "That's my share. Only fair!" Jonathan nodded his thanks. Although they were due to receive a tidy sum in prize money, no actual coinage had yet been forthcoming. Jonathan's own allowance was rather frugal and whilst he never spend it unwisely, it really didn't extend to nights ashore in inns. The room was arranged and although small, was clean and comfortable. Jonathan put the candle on the wash stand, unbuttoned his jacket and hung it on a peg on the wall. He turned to look at Kerrison who hovered just inside the doorway. The Mate looked a little nervous. A strange awkwardness seemed to descend on the room. How different this was from their hurried encounters below decks. No wonder Kerrison looked so ill at ease. Jonathan set his shoulders. He was the one with experience in the gentler side of loving and so it was up to him to lead the way. He crossed the floor until he was standing in front of Kerrison. Reaching up he gently kissed his friends lips and waited for him to respond. Kerrison pulled away. "Shouldn't yer blow out the candle first?" The Mate sounded as shy as a bride on her wedding night. "No," Jonathan whispered. "We can't see each other if we do that. Come on, it will be good like this." Jonathan took Kerrison by the hand and led him over to the bed. "Soft," Kerrison whispered as he sat down and smoothed one hand over the coverlet. Jonathan sat down beside him and the Mate turned, the shyness slowly fading from his hazel eyes. His rough hand reached up to pull loose the black ribbon that held Jonathan's curls in place. The rain had made his hair even more unruly than usual. Jonathan shook his head slightly and a riot of ringlets tumbled over his shoulder. Kerrison wasted no time burying his face in Jonathan's hair, slowly working his way down until his lips were against Jonathan's throat. His kiss was very soft, gentle and hesitant. Jonathan reached for Kerrison, grasped his shoulders and pulled him down so they lay back on the bed together. Kerrison's lips came up to find Jonathan's own and they quickly lost themselves in the sensuous feel of each other's mouth. Shirts were pulled loose, breeches undone and still they kissed, content to let their hands explore the warm expanses of skin as they were slowly revealed. "Yer feel good, yer taste good," Kerrison murmured against Jonathan's lips. Jonathan could only moan in answer, his senses overloaded by the intensity of Kerrison; the taste of his lips, the musky smell of his sweat, the harsh sound of his breathing, the heat and strength of his body as it pressed him into the thin mattress. "Roll over." The request was accompanied by the final removal of Jonathan's breeches by Kerrison, one last unyielding button being torn off in the process. "Sorry," the Mate muttered as he kicked off his own trousers and shirt before grabbing the hem of Jonathan's shirt and pulling it over his head in one smooth movement. "This way, like this," Jonathan gasped when Kerrison persisted in trying to turn him onto his stomach. The words seemed to confuse Kerrison who stopped his frantic kisses and stared at Jonathan. "Like this," Jonathan said again, pulling his legs up. "Like yer do a woman? Haven't done it like that before. All right is it?" Jonathan tried to hide his smile. "Very 'all right'. I can look right into your eyes when you come." Kerrison's only reply was a groan as he fell onto Jonathan again, his fingers urgently preparing what his body craved. Maybe it would always be like this with Kerrison, this rough hot passion. No longer could Jonathan blame the intensity on the risk of discovery below decks or the knowledge that he was transgressing. It was Kerrison himself who ignited this fire. Kerrison who was not afraid of his passion or where it led him; who was willing to be everything that Archie feared. Jonathan cried out as he felt Kerrison claim him; not from pain but from sheer lust. Kerrison covered his mouth with a rough hand, a habit developed long ago below decks. Jonathan nipped at it with his teeth then let his tongue trace the creases and calluses until Kerrison pulled it away. The Mate bent low then, pushing Jonathan's legs further backwards, sliding deeper until he could reach Jonathan's mouths and ravish it with his own. Suddenly Kerrison pulled back and took a better grip in Jonathan's slim hips. "Watch me eyes," was all he said as he thrust roughly a few more times and came with a loud groan. Jonathan's own groan was one of frustration. "But I...I," he panted out as he struggled from beneath the weight that had slumped over him. His body was still on fire, still straining for relief. Kerrison rolled onto his back, eyes closed, smiling. "Don't worry, you can have a go at it too. Just take it a bit easy, it's been a while, yer know." The words made Jonathan hesitate as he remembered things he'd heard; things both Kerrison and Archie had said in the past. "A while since you've done this? Should I get some...oil...or lard?" Dear God, please let him say no! Where on earth would they find such things at this time of night? Jonathan knelt between Kerrison's long legs, waiting for his answer. One hazel eye popped opened and scrutinised Jonathan for a moment. "Nah, spit will do all right. Yer not that big." "WHAT!" "Well yer not," Kerrison opened both eyes and looked at Jonathan. "Archie...er..Mr Kennedy never complained!" Jonathan defended hotly. Kerrison shrugged. "That's hardly surprising. 'E was probably grateful." "Oh." Jonathan sat back, indignant and more than a little worried by Kerrison's observations. Was THAT why he had never been able to give Archie any pleasure? He felt the edge go off his passion as he thought Kerrison's years of experience and what he might be expecting. His own meagre education seemed rather lacking. He looked away. "I'm sorry, but I suppose I should tell you that I am not very good at it either I'm afraid. I couldn't manage to 'do it right' for Mr Kennedy. I did try, but ...I ..." "Bloody 'ell! Don't take on so!" Jonathan looked back. The Mate smiled at him gently and sat up. His hand came up to play with Jonathan's curls where they lay on his shoulders. "E's got yer all worried about it hasn't he? Worried that I won't like it or that yer going to hurt me or something, am I right?" Jonathan nodded. "But it's not just that!" Jonathan added quickly, unwilling to let Kerrison off so easily. "What you just said now didn't help matter's either you know." "Look I seen a lot a men much bigger but I wouldn't want 'em to fuck me, yer know." Kerrison slid his hand down Jonathan's stomach and let his fingers twine in Jonathan's other curls. "But I DO want you to, cause I like yer. Besides we both know a frigate is twice as useful as a bloody great ship of the line! So stop thinking so much about it and get on with it." Kerrison lay down again, his hand still teasing and Jonathan felt his arousal take hold again. "Just make sure yer look at me." Kerrison added as he pulled his legs up. "That was good like that." Jonathan needed no further encouragement and set about the task with enthusiasm. His initial nervousness soon gave way to confidence thanks to Kerrison's vocal encouragement of 'yes, harder'. His worries and clumsiness forgotten, Jonathan let go of his restraint and gave in to his passion. A passion so hot that it burned away all thoughts of anything but his own need. The slide of their bodies, the slip of their skin, wet with sweat. Kerrison's fingers dug into his arms and Kerrison's legs gripped him hard. Was that Kerrison's heart beating as loudly as his own? "Oh Jonathan!" The words made him catch his breath, as did Kerrison's eyes looking up at him, hot and crazed with the same lust as they glazed over with pleasure just before he let go a shout of release. Jonathan felt himself falling, falling into the eyes that still looked up at him, falling into the heat the surrounded him, enfolded him, consumed him. Falling down until he became aware he was lying on a heaving chest that was wriggling and grunting. "Should have pulled the bloody cover down first." Kerrison muttered as he grasped at the coverlet. "I'm freezing." Jonathan rolled off so that Kerrison could pulled the coverlet over their naked bodies. It was cold now that they had stopped their exercise. The linen sheets felt like ice. "So did I do it all right?" Jonathan asked when they were once again settled. "Yer did it just fine. Couldn't yer tell?" "Hmm yes, but I just wanted to hear you say it, that's all." "Silly bugger," Kerrison whispered as he fitted Jonathan against his shoulder. Jonathan was on the very edge of sleep when he felt Kerrison's hands on him again. He smiled and opened his eyes. "Aren't you tired?" "A bit, but I can't sleep...not in a bed at least...I'm just not used to it." "Well I guess that means I will have to keep you company all night then?" Jonathan replied with a smirk. Chapter Three The thought of making love with Kerrison all night had sounded like heaven at the time, but by 4.00am, Jonathan had changed his mind. It was true, Kerrison seemed unable to sleep ashore. Whilst Jonathan, feeling close to the point of exhaustion, would have happily fallen into a deep sleep, Kerrison proceeded to toss and turn in the small bed, making rest impossible. "You awake?" The hurried whisper served as a prelude yet again as Kerrison's hands took a firm grip on Jonathan's hips. Jonathan wondered if feigning sleep would make any difference. "Hmm," was all he managed to murmur as Kerrison spread his legs apart and took him again, face down this time. Thankfully a little slower too, for Jonathan was starting to feel a distinct discomfort. "I've enjoyed this, yer know, Jonathan." Kerrison whispered as he rocked slowly. "Best thing I done in a long time." He entwined his fingers with Jonathan's where they lay spread on the now rumpled sheet. The mate's hand looked so dark against his own fair skin and the stark whiteness of the linen. "Hmm, yes Jack." Jonathan murmured in reply, looking at their joined hands, just in front of his eyes. He tightened his fingers, holding on, conscious of Kerrison's skin against his own, feeling the way their bodies were joined, the slow easy thrusts. He wondered if he might fall asleep even like this. But Kerrison finished suddenly, a more subdued release by now, and settled in close against Jonathan's back again, holding him tightly. "Perhaps we might do this again if the Captain gives us more shore leave," Kerrison's breath was a warm whisper in Jonathan's ear. "Yes, that would be nice. But I will have to go home to visit my mother if we are in port for long. My home is not far away, just a three hour walk, less if I can get a ride. I haven't been home since I went to sea two years ago." "That'll be nice for yer then." The words were sad. "Yer lucky." "What do you generally do on shore leave Kerrison?" Having no family or home other than the Indy, the Mate would be left at a loose end. "Nothing much, bit of drinking, bit of gambling, bit of fucking...at least until my money runs out. Once I managed to hook up with a lass who didn't expect to get paid. I spent a few days with her until we was recalled. That was sort of nice." "Would you like to come home with me? If the Captain gives us shore leave?" "To yer home? To meet yer mother?" "Yes, to stay with me for our shore leave. Mother wouldn't mind. My father would sometimes bring home his friends if they lived too far away." "Well if yer think it would be all right. I'll have to see if Mr Bowles lets me go. I got to be back by the four bells in the Morning Watch. He wants me to go ashore with him when he checks the ship's clock." "We still have a little more time then," Jonathan whispered as he settled into Kerrison's arms again. It was just as well that Kerrison was a light sleeper for Jonathan would have slept on quite happily. He watched through one eye as the mate dressed in the predawn light, slim and wiry, tanned to the waist but then paler. He threw on his clothes with almost the same disregard that he had thrown them off with last night. Finally Kerrison tied his straggly brown hair back in an untidy bunch before swooping down to kiss Jonathan who was still burrowed in the blankets. "It's been good! I'll see yer back on board." One last kiss and Kerrison was gone leaving Jonathan alone to catch his breath and dream for a little longer. Captain Pellew did indeed order a weeks shore leave for all Officers Jonathan was pleased to discover from Lionel Thockmorton when he arrived back on board later that morning. "Quite frankly I was expecting worse!" Lionel said with a frown. Jonathan looked at him blankly. "We signed a cease fire with France in October, Jonathan didn't you hear the news last night?" "Cease fire?" Jonathan asked, wondering what Lionel was talking about. So much had happened last night that news was the last thing on his mind. "Yes a cease fire with France. It's expected to be finalised early next year. This could mean the end of the war, you know." Jonathan didn't know whether to be pleased or disappointed. From a professional point of view, opportunity would be limited in a peace time Navy. Many Officers could expect to be stood down on half pay. For the rest of the crew including the midshipmen, it meant no job and no pay! The thought of having to find work outside the navy left Jonathan feeling uneasy. "Don't look so glum Jonathan. They are not putting us ashore yet. Enjoy your shore leave for I am sure that once we are back at sea it won't be long before we are ALL wishing for peace!" "So what are your plans Lionel? Shall you return home?" "I intend to visit our estates in Bedfordshire. Most of my family will be staying there after the wedding. My brother, the Viscount, has married in my absences. There was a letter awaiting me with the news." "Oh that's good news then, Lionel." "No it is not." Lionel added glumly. "He married the only girl I have ever loved." "Oh really? You have never mentioned her before Lionel." Jonathan had listened to countless tales of Lionel's conquests, but didn't recall ever hearing the older midshipman mention love. "Well of course I have never mentioned her. How could I speak of such purity in the Midshipmen's berth!" he declared hotly as if that were enough to explain his uncharacteristic reticence on the matter. "Why did she marry your brother if she was yours Lionel?" Jonathan asked carefully. He had never seen his friend like this before and was unsure of how far to push his questions. "She was never mine Jonathan. I loved her from afar, since we were children." Lionel raised one hand to his brow in what would have been an almost comic gesture if Jonathan wasn't completely sure that Lionel's words were sincere. "Did your brother know how you felt?" "No doubt! My love for Lydia was a great family joke between Rupert and my sister, Honoria. But he wouldn't have done it to spite me I'm sure. Lydia's family's estates join ours and she had no brothers. Rupert would have married her for that fact alone." "I am sorry Lionel." Jonathan didn't know what else to say. "No doubt I shall recover from my broken heart, Jonathan. It gives me even more reason to pursue my Naval career!" With that parting statement Lionel went below to gather his things and Jonathan moved to the quarterdeck to stand his final watch.   There was a flurry of activity all over the deck. Those who were able to travel home hurriedly organised their dunnage to be carried ashore and it was soon sitting in untidy piles by the entry port. Most of the off duty watch seemed to be idling on deck anxiously awaiting the first boats to bring their 'wives' on board, although Jonathan knew that very few of these women would be legitimate wives. "It keeps the crew happy and lessens the chance of desertion, Jonathan." Archie explained quietly as they stood their final watch together. Archie looked decidedly happy this morning and Jonathan couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. "I want to thank you again for your generosity last night Jonathan. What you did was very...mature. Thank you." "I just wanted you to be happy Archie, that's all." "I know and believe me I was very...happy...last night. It was a truly wonderful experience." Jonathan gave a weak smile and decided not to ask any further. "I'm pleased for you Archie," he replied trying to sound gracious. They watched in silence as Lionel Thockmorton and young Ned Grayson boarded one the cutters with their gear, both on their way home to their families. "I hear Moseby and Witherspoon are staying in Portsmouth? They come from up north don't they?" Archie asked as they strolled the quarterdeck. There was little to do and they were both bored. "Yes, it's too far for them to travel," Jonathan explained. "Heaven knows what those two will get up to if left to their own devices!" Archie laughed. "Mr Bowles is staying aboard so I am sure Captain Pellew will ask him to have an eye to them. And of course Mr Overton will be here too." Jonathan groaned at the mention of the first officer's name. "Well I am glad I am going home then!" "Did you know the Captain has been called to The Admiralty in London and has asked me to accompany him? I do hope it isn't because of anything I have done..." There was a slight uneasiness in Archie voice. "Oh Archie, surely not! The Captain probably asked you because he knows what a fine Officer you are!" Archie just shrugged. "I hope so Jonathan." Eight bells finally sounded the two men looked at each other. "Have a good shore leave Jonathan. I'll see you in a week." "Yes, you too Archie." Jonathan smiled as he looked up into the blue eyes. There was a part of him that would always love Archie Kennedy. "I think someone is waiting for you." Archie whispered quietly. Jonathan followed the direction of Archie's gaze to see a figure standing near the entry port clutching a battered canvas bag and looking a little self conscious; Kerrison. Jonathan smiled, bid Archie goodbye and sprang down the companionway a little faster than was proper. "Yer ready now?" Kerrison asked, a faint blush colouring his tanned skin. "Yes, my things have already been taken ashore. Let's be off Mr Kerrison!" Chapter Four For all Kerrison's ability aboard ship, he was not much of a landsman! They had barely left the outskirts of Portsmouth before he began complaining about having to walk. Jonathan conceded that he had a point. The eight mile walk to his home in Havant was no longer the easy stroll it had been in the past. Two years spent at sea had robbed Jonathan of his stamina for walking long distances. How much worse must it be for Kerrison who had rarely set foot ashore in his whole lifetime. "We should be able to catch a ride at least part of the way" Jonathan declared "There are usually carts of all sorts travelling this road." "Perhaps we should have caught a bloody coach or something. I've never ridden in a coach. It would have been nice." Kerrison snarled as he hitched his baggage to the other shoulder. Jonathan was glad that his own bag contained very little. During the past two years he had out grown many of his clothes and was hoping his mother would see to replacing them whilst he was at home. He had not bothered bringing much in the way of personal effects either as most of what he would need would be provided. About two miles into their journey a passing farmer offered them a ride in the back of his empty cart. They accepted gratefully despite the layer of chaff that lay everywhere and left no doubt as to what the farmer had been carrying before hand. Still it was a welcome relief from walking and Kerrison was soon asking question after question now that his feet were at rest. He inquired after the name of each town they passed; Drayton, Cosham, Bedhampton. This last raised a rude snicker as Kerrison suggested reasons for how the town had come by it's name. Kerrison never grew tired of watching the gentle landscape rolling and Jonathan wondered if he was thinking of drawing a map. They passed fields, empty now that the summer harvesting was complete. "What do they grow here?" Kerrison asked. "Corn mainly, but also some barely and hops. There is good irrigation here and up on the Downs. This area has numerous natural springs. It makes for good pasture land too." Indeed white sheep could be seen grazing on what was left of the summer grasses. The farmer let them down just outside of Havant and they walked the remaining distance in the late afternoon sunlight. It was colder now and Jonathan looked forward to supper and a warm fire. Havant was a large town at the head of the Langstone harbour. A stream, the Lavant, wound in and out of the town. It's water, along with that collected from over twenty natural springs was used to run the mills that could be seen everywhere. "What are they for?" Kerrison asked as they passed one. "That one is a grinding mill. It grinds the corn. Some of the others are used for irrigation. There were fulling mills here too in my grandfather's time." Jonathan's home was just south of the town, on the road to local port of Langstone. "We'll walk down to the water tomorrow and I will show you the harbour," Jonathan promised. Although they could not yet see the water, Jonathan could smell the briney, salty smell, laced with a hint of fish that told him the tide must be out and the mud flats exposed. It was a smell he had grown up with and one that spoke of home. "That's my home, there!" Jonathan pointed to a two story whitewashed cottage that seemed to glow in the twilight. Kerrison nodded his approval. "Nice," was his only comment. Chapter Five Minerva Riley was a small woman, a fact that Jonathan realised only now as he greeted his mother in the doorway. It also made him acutely aware of how much he himself had grown in the last two years in a way that nothing else could. "Jonathan! Look at you!" Blue eyes so like his own stared up at him from a face at once both familiar and yet strange. He noted the faint lines that highlighted the otherwise youthful complexion. Hair that had once shone a brightly as his was now highlighted with fine strands of silver. "My goodness Jonathan you are all skin and bone! Don't they feed you on that ship?" Some things hadn't changed at least. Jonathan smiled to himself as his mother's analytical gaze looked him over. "Your hair is too long, your coat is almost through at the elbow and those breeches are far too small Jonathan. Look how tight they are!" "Mother!" Jonathan protested, blushing with embarrassment. "Yer mother's right there, Mr Riley." Kerrison observed with a cheeky grin. "Don't do for young gentlemen to have their breeches too tight. Why yer might bend over and split them down the seems." "That's exactly right Mr...er...you must think me terribly rude, Sir." Minerva Riley smoothed her hair into place and held out her hand towards Kerrison. "Jonathan please introduce us. You are forgetting your manners, whatever will this gentleman think." "Mother, this is my friend Mr Kerrison, he's Masters Mate aboard the 'Indefatigable'. Kerrison, this is my mother...er...Mrs Riley." "Ma'am" Kerrison said formally, taking the small white hand and bending slightly. "A pleasure to meet you Mr Kerrison. Are you staying hereabouts or merely passing through?" Kerrison looked to Jonathan for rescue. "I have invited Mr Kerrison to stay with us for the week Mother, I hope that is not inconvenient." Minerva Riley appeared suddenly flustered. "No, no I will just inform Mrs Sharpels that she will be cooking for two more. I am sure she will manage although I do dislike imposing on her like that. Good housekeepers are SO hard to find. But I dare say she is used to it by now. Your father was always bringing someone or other home with him on leave. Oh...and the guest room...I will have to ask her to make up the guest room! But Jonathan surely you remember how she hates climbing those extra stairs and at her age...oh...I wonder where the spare linen is? Now don't stand there in the door way, please come inside...oh there is so much to do!" Minerva Riley shooed the two young men into the house, along the hallway and into a small parlour, chattering all the time. Kerrison was looking quite worried by all her fluster but Jonathan merely smiled. He was used to his mother's hysterics. "Mother, Mr Kerrison can stay in my room with me. I am sure there is enough space." He chanced a glance at Kerrison and saw the Mate slowly smile. "Nonsense dear. We have a guest room and we shall use it!" The smile slipped from Kerrison's face and Jonathan shrugged his shoulders in silence. He knew it was useless to argue with his mother once her mind was made up. The guest room she spoke of was a small attic at the very top of the house. In it's time it had been used for various purposes including a study for Jonathan's father and a place for his friends to stay. Since his death it had been used mostly for storage, however it did contain a bed and it was relatively private. Perhaps their shore leave could be salvaged after all. "Mrs Sharpels, Mrs Sharpels, come see who has just arrived." For all her size, Minerva Riley had a voice that would have done a bosun proud! The kitchen door opened and Mrs Sharpels swayed out, still a solid rock of a woman despite the winds of change that had swept away Jonathan's childhood. For as long as he could remember Mrs Sharpels had been a formidable figure in the household and Jonathan was pleased to see that this had not changed. Although he now stood almost tall enough to meet the steely grey eyes, he still felt small beside this woman who's girth was almost thrice his own. "Master Jonathan, welcome home. Your mother has been missing you something fierce." Big arms came out to fold him into a comforting embrace in much the same way they had when he was small boy. "Mrs Sharpels, I know this is unexpected but we will have two extra for supper. Mr Kerrison will also be our guest for the week." Sharpels nodded in Kerrison's direction, looking him up and down. "Sir," she said flatly. "We'll need the rooms made up and extra supper and...Baths! They must have baths!" Minerva Riley wrinkled her nose delicately. "You smell just like your father used to when he came home from the sea. Salty and sour! Don't they let you bathe on board? Why the whole ship must smell like the fish market in Portsmouth!" "Mother!" Jonathan pleaded. "And we must bake some of Jonathan's favourite cakes while he is here Mrs Sharpels. He needs fattening up. You won't believe this Mr Kerrison," she continued turning aside and touching Kerrison's arm lightly to gain his attention. "Jonathan was such a chubby little angel when he was a baby. Fat little legs and arms and the cutest little..." "Mother please!" Jonathan knew his face must fast be approaching the colour of his hair. "Really Jonathan there is no need to be like that. I've been fretting away, not knowing what might befall you. Thinking of your poor dear father, lost at sea. Why I don't think I could live if I lost you too. Oh to think of it...Tea Mrs Sharpels! I need tea! Strong if you please and with a dash of Dr Marshes physic in it. I am feeling rather faint!" Chapter 6 Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief as Mrs Sharpels ushered his mother to the settee. He took the opportunity to grab Kerrison by the elbow and escape the parlour. He led the mate up the stairs to the first floor. "She's prone to the vapours I'm afraid." As they climbed, the faint voice of Minerva Riley could still be heard echoing up from downstairs. "She has been for as a long as I can remember. It didn't help when my father died. I thought she would never let me out of her sight again. Here this is my room." Jonathan opened the door and was instantly thrown back in time. The room was still the way he had left it when he went to see almost two years ago. Once more, the feeling of being a stranger in his home washed over him. "Nice room," Kerrison said quietly as he gazed about the darkened room. It would soon be time to light the lamps. His eyes finally settled on the two small oil paintings of ships. "My Grandmother did those." Jonathan explained. "My Father's mother. There are two more down in the parlour." On the dresser below the paintings were several small wooden boats with tattered cloth sails. Jonathan picked one up carefully, turning it over in his hands. "When my father was home we would take these down to the Lymbourne stream and sail them to the millpond. They belonged to him when he was a boy." "It's in yer blood, isn't it." Kerrison said quietly. Jonathan nodded. "Yes, my family have been boat wrights for many generations, but my father was the first to go to sea. They used to build boats down on the shore here; barges mainly. All the mills by the shore have quays and they use the barges to carry their produce to market. But when my father chose a career in the Kings Navy, my uncle sold the business to another local family. He moved to Southampton and bought into a firm of shipwrights. I think there was some animosity between my father and uncle although I was never really told." Jonathan gently replaced the small wooden boat. "Come on I'll show you where you'll be sleeping. They climbed a flight of narrow stairs and entered a small attic room with a gabled window and pitched roof. The room was almost dark but it was just possible to make out a large bed, hidden beneath an old dust cover that occupied one corner. A small desk sat beneath the window. Another corner was occupied by an old rocking chair and a small wooden cradle that had been in Jonathan's family for many years. Here and there were several chests full of old clothes and things belonging to Jonathan's father which his mother had kept. Kerrison surveyed the room and frowned. "I'd rather be sleeping with you!" Jonathan slipped behind him and leaned against the strong back, his hands resting on Kerrison's thighs. "Don't worry. I'll slip up here each night once my mother goes to bed. It will be fine." "But what if she hears us?" Jonathan laughed, but it held a slightly bitter edge. He tightened his grip on Kerrison. "She won't hear us, she never awakes after she has gone to sleep. The house could burn down around her and she would go on sleeping peacefully. You see, she takes laudanum to help her sleep." "Oh, is she ill or something?" "No, it's for her nerves. I think she started taking it after my father died." "And she still takes it?" "I'm fairly sure she does but I will ask Mrs Sharpels how she is going, when I have a moment. She's been with my family since she was a young girl and looks after my mother as if she were her own daughter. She'll know what's happening." "Good, cause I don't intend to be doing much sleeping, if yer know what I mean." Kerrison spun around and rubbed himself again Jonathan's leg leaving now doubt as to what he had in mind. Jonathan looked up into the hot hazel eyes. "I know exactly what you mean!" he replied. Chapter Seven Jonathan tried not to grin at Mrs Sharpels' announcement later that night. Most of her time had been spent making beds and preparing supper and unless both he and Kerrison wanted to sit up quite late waiting for the water to boil they would have to wait until tomorrow for their baths. Neither young man objected. Supper was a trying affair, as Jonathan listened to his mother's ceaseless chatter about village gossip whilst he watched Kerrison look timidly at the teacup and saucer in front of him and struggle with his knife as he tried to butter a small scone. The jam spoon also proved a trial. For one so deft with a quill and ink, it was painfully obvious that Kerrison had never dined with silverware and fine china before. Most of the crew made do with a small knife and a spoon and would often forego even a plate and eat off the hardened ships biscuits. Kerrison cut his scones hesitantly on the bone china plate but even so his knife continued to make scratching noises. 'Sorry,' he murmured again and again under his breath. The delicate china teacup looked out of place as he balanced it in his roughened hands. After supper they spent some time sitting in the parlour with Jonathan's mother as she relayed even more local events to Jonathan. Kerrison prowled the bookcase and was delighted to find the complete works of William Shakespeare. "I heard of him!" Kerrison declared to no one in particular and swooped on a volume at random, flicking through the pages until something caught his eye. "The Tempest! Must be about a storm." He sat down close to the lamp and read quietly. Jonathan tried hard to stifle his yawns as his mother droned on about how the manor house had changed hands again and how the new owners simply refused to look after the gardens. He thought of all that had happened to him, all the battles, all the times he had come close to death or been the bringer of it himself and wondered why his mother would choose to talk about such triviality. Didn't she realise that the postmaster's daughter running off to Chichester with one of the local fisherman held no interest for him? "Oh Jonathan I could talk all night, it is SO good to have you home. But I know you must be weary. So I will bid you both good night and trust you have a pleasant sleep." "Goodnight Mother," Jonathan kissed her on the cheek and moved to the small fireplace to douse the embers for the night. "You read this?" Kerrison asked, holding up the book. "No." Jonathan replied, mentally counting the minutes that it would take for his mother to fall asleep after taking her bedtime physic which Mrs Sharpels had assured him she still took every night. His mother irritated him at times and yet he tried not to let it effect the way he was with her. She was all he had left now and he knew he owed her so much. "It's good yer know, it's all about..." "You go on up and I'll be there shortly. Just leave the door ajar so it doesn't squeak too much." Jonathan interrupted, hardly conscious of what Kerrison was saying. "Here, but I haven't finished the story yet..." Kerrison protested. "Read it tomorrow!" The retort surprised them both. Jonathan thrust the poker back into the fire and poked about deciding it would be better to take out his frustration on the embers rather than on his friend. "Yes, Mr Riley, whatever you say Mr Riley." Kerrison replied sarcastically and tugged at his forelock. He picked up a candle and walked to the door. "I'm sorry Kerrison. I didn't mean that." The Mate hesitated at the door. "Yeah, I know yer didn't. Come on up, I'll be waiting for yer." Jonathan waited ten minutes and then went up to his room. His mother's room, opposite his own, was already in darkness. He glanced up the stairs to the attic, but thought it best to wait a little longer. Reluctantly he entered his own room instead. On his bed lay a clean white nightshirt; not one of his own, Jonathan realised when he picked it up. This one was meant for a larger man. An old one belonging to his father, stored away lovingly and brought out now, because his own would be too small. Jonathan sighed and wondered if it was really such a good idea coming home. Everything felt awkward. And what must Kerrison make of it all? Jonathan shed his clothes, and slipped the nightshirt over his head. It smelt faintly of cloves. He sat down counting off another ten minutes, then quietly left his room closing the door after him. The wooden floor felt cold on his bare feet. He stood at the bottom of the stairs looking up towards the attic, needing no candle to light his way. The third step creaked he suddenly remembered and he stepped over it, amazed at the way his childhood memories came rushing back to surround him. Everywhere he looked, everything he touched or did seemed to unleash a flood of memories. Perhaps it was time to make some new ones. He entered the attic and closed the door firmly behind him. Chapter Eight Jonathan stood in the patch of moonlight that shone on the wooden floor and slowly lifted the nightshirt over his head. He could see Kerrison's eyes watching him from the bed in the corner, could feel them on his skin as he let the nightshirt fall to the floor. Kerrison's arms reached for him as he slid beneath the covers. Kerrison's mouth met his in a desperate kiss. Hands sought to gain a hold, an advantage; their bodies wrestled momentarily. It was Jonathan this time who refused to yield; Jonathan who finally rolled Kerrison onto his back and took him hard and fast. He was confused by the anger and the frustration that he felt; knowing they were driving his actions but unable to stop. The old bed creaked and shook, matching the beat of Jonathan's rough thrusts. Kerrison, below him, gasped and groaned beseeching the almighty through clenched teeth. Jonathan cried out his release and slumped down, dimly aware that he was sobbing. "You all right?" Kerrison asked as he gently wound the fingers of one hand through Jonathan's hair. "Yes, I'm all right but I think I should be asking you that question. I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" "No harm done. But yer do seem a bit angry." Kerrison's voice was soft in his ear. "It feels strange, that's all." Jonathan suddenly rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "Are yer sorry that I came with yer?" The question was hesitant, a note of vulnerability in Kerrison's usually confident voice. "Oh no, it's not you Kerrison. Its just everything else...I have changed so much, I feel so different and yet everything here is still the same. I can't explain it." "Then don't try to." Kerrison moved close again. "It's called growing up, I think. That's all it is." "It's more than that." Jonathan paused, as a rush of memories came surging through him; half buried things, hidden away but unleashed now with a fury. "I am sorry about my mother. You'll see what she is like...she's always been on the hysterical side. It was hard for her being here alone when my father was at sea. When he died she had some sort of ...nervous turn. She took to her bed and wouldn't get up. The doctor came to her every day; it was terrible. "When she did recover she refused to let me go to sea as my father had arranged. I tried to understand, because I thought she would change her mind after a while, but it became worse. Eventually she wouldn't let me leave the house because she was so worried that something would befall to me. I wanted to go out to see my friends but she wouldn't let me and we had these terrible arguments. Perhaps that's why she did it, you see, she wanted to keep me with her." "Why she did what?" "She started giving me laudanum too, in milk. I didn't know of course, but it made me sleep. The problem was she gave me too much and I couldn't wake up properly. Mrs Sharpels called the doctor, I think she suspected what had happened. Someone must have sent for my uncle, because he arrived and the next thing I knew he had somehow made my mother agree to let me go to sea as my father had originally intended. I think my mother realised what she had done and how dangerous it had been. Perhaps it was her way of trying to make it up to me." "She doesn't seem like a lunatic to me!" Kerrison added with a bit of a grunt. Jonathan smiled sadly. "She's not. But I suppose grief can make a person do strange things." He thought suddenly of Peter Crittenden and how he had tried to kill himself after Harry Stratford's death. A shiver ran down his spine and he reached out to hold onto Kerrison. "I've never told anyone about that before." Jonathan whispered quietly. The confession was painful even now but there was something comforting about lying here in the dark, sharing confidences. Jonathan knew that his secrets were safe in Kerrison's keeping. "Not even your Mr Kennedy?" "No not even him." It was strange to think that he and Kerrison had reached a point that he had never found with Archie. "So should I sniff the tea while I'm here or what?" Kerrison's voice held that light bantering tone that Jonathan had come to love. Jonathan laughed. "No, you're safe. That was just before I came on board the Indy. I haven't seen my mother since then. It's so strange though, because she is acting as if nothing ever happened." "Well she is probably feeling just as bad as you are and hoping to all hell that yer don't mention it. That's all it is. You'll see, in a few days you'll both feel better with each other." "I think you might be right Kerrison." Jonathan settled closer into the waiting arms and closed his eyes as Kerrison's soft lips touched his own. It was slower this time as if they both sensed there was a need for something more, something that transcended physical pleasure and reached further. Slower but just as intense as they held each other's gaze, looking beyond what lay on the surface and seeing into each other's hearts. What they found there was wondrous. "Will you stay Jonathan?" Kerrison asked as they lay heart to heart, tired and sweaty. "For a little while. My mother likes to sleep late, but it would not do for me to stay here too long. Mrs Sharpels arrives early." "You look like her yer know, yer mother I mean." "Oh please! Don't say it!" "But yer do! Yer have the same hair. I remember the day yer came aboard. I was on the quarterdeck with Mr Bowles, hadn't been a Mate that long and I was trying so hard to do my best. Then you came over the side and I couldn't take my eyes off you. I'd never seen hair that colour before. It looked too pretty to be on a lad! Yer look just like her, you know." "Really! How would YOU feel if everyone kept telling you that you looked like YOUR mother?" "Don't know...I can't remember my mother. She died when I was small." "I'm sorry, Jack. I shouldn't have said that." Jonathan stroked the tangled brown waves wanting to return the comfort that Kerrison had offered earlier. "How did she die." "Cannon exploded! It wasn't even in a battle, just a gun drill. She used to carry the shot like the other women and was standing nearby when one of the guns exploded. Blown to pieces she was. "She'd always carried the shot. Why she was even doing it right up to my birth! I was born during the battle of The Saints, down in the West Indies. My mother was down on the gun deck just going about her business as usual when she went into labour. It was of a sudden like, and there was no one to take her down to the orlop. The Lieutenant in charge was none too pleased!" Kerrison laughed quietly in the darkness. "I can remember some of the lads used to tease me when I was little and say that they didn't know which was worse; the cannon fire or me screaming me lungs out while they looked for something to wrap me in." Jonathan frowned. There was something in Kerrison's story that didn't match up. "The Battle of Le Saintes...That was April, 1782, wasn't it?" "Yeah, the 12th. Yer know yer history." "But that doesn't seem right! You said you were rated Able before you were made Mate! You CAN'T have been because you wouldn't have been old enough!" Kerrison gave a lazy laugh. "Yer quick, Jonathan. You're the first one who's figured it out. I lied about me age when I joined the Indy; said I was 17, rather than 14. The Kraken's records were all lost when she was wrecked, so no one was the wiser. I was tall and I could work the tops. If I had told the truth they would have rated me 3rd class boy! I would have had to wait four years before I could be rated even Ordinary! This way, I was rated Ordinary on my next birthday, and it was only a matter of time before they rated me Able. I knew what I was doing and they could see that!" "So you are really nineteen, but you are on the ships books as twenty two." Jonathan grinned. "You should write a book about your life Kerrison! It's fascinating." "I am sure you have some interesting things in your past as well," Kerrison prompted. "Other than the laudanum thing, that is," he amended hurriedly. "Well yes," Jonathan began a little shyly. "There was an earth tremor here in October of 1784, in the early hours of the morning. It woke everyone up and it lasted for several minutes. It was followed by a server gale that lasted for hours. My mother still speaks of it from time to time. She said it was truly frightening and that she was so glad that my father was at home at the time." "And?" Kerrison asked full of curiosity. "I was born nine months later," Jonathan added, with a wicked little grin. "Fate wouldn't you say?" Chapter Nine "And after your bath I will have Jerusha take some measurements for some new shirts and breeches. They should be ready in time, well, at least I WILL insist that Mrs Graham has them ready, although the woman is notoriously unreliable." Minerva Riley smiled across the table at Jonathan then turned her attention to Kerrison. "How did you find the bed Mr Kerrison?" "Real comfortable thank you Mrs Riley." Kerrison replied with a blush as he buttered another crumpet. He paused with the knife half way to his mouth and put it down quickly. Jonathan stifled his laugh knowing Kerrison had tossed and turned for most of the night. After breakfast Jonathan and Kerrison made their way through the kitchen to the scullery where a young woman was adding a final kettle of boiling water to a hip bath. "Thank you Jerusha." Jonathan said as the woman made her way to the door. "Just call me if you need more hot water, Mr riley." Jerusha Tyler replied as she closed the door behind herself. 'Mr Riley', the title sounded strange coming from someone who had looked after him when he was a child. "So I guess you get the water first?" Kerrison asked with a dubious look. "Well as a guest I think YOU should go first." Jonathan deferred eagerly. "No, you're the master of the house, so the honour's all yours. Come on, get yer clothes off." The scullery was a small room with a stone floor that was used for washing pots and dishes, clothes and linen and of course, bathing. It was a room Jonathan hated, for it was dark with one tiny window. It had always felt cold when he was a child. Jonathan slipped into the warm water and tried to get comfortable. The hip bath seemed so much smaller than when he had last used it. "Pass me the soap please?" Jonathan asked, when he saw Kerrison sniffing it hesitantly. "You can wash my back if you like?" Perhaps there were ways that could make bathing a lot less trying. "I'm staying right over here, out of the way. Anyone could walk through that door and catch us!" Kerrison declared vehemently. "They wouldn't dare. We are two grown men taking our baths. The last thing any of those women would want to do is look!" Kerrison simply snorted in reply. "Yer don't know bloody much about women then, do yer!" "And what about YOU Mr Kerrison? Do YOU want to watch me take a bath?" "I wouldn't be in here if I didn't, would I now Mr Riley." Kerrison purred. The look on his face, the tone of his voice set Jonathan's blood on fire. Slowly, with great care and much posturing, Jonathan let his hands run over his wet skin, leaving a trail of soap that glistened in the faint light. "I really don't see how watching me wash could be very...interesting Kerrison." Jonathan stared into the hazel eyes gazing at him. "It seems a trifle dull, if you ask me," he added before dipping his hand below the water line and washing his groin. The action had the desired result, for both of them. Kerrison, seated on a wooden bench squirmed a little and licked his lips. Jonathan became more daring, slowly teasing his growing erection, his fingers slippery with soap, his eyes boring into Kerrison's. "Are you sure you don't want to help me?" he whispered. "Here's a jug of water for rinsing your hair Sir." The scullery door burst open and Jerusha Tyler walked in. Water went everywhere as Jonathan tried to hide himself. "Thank you, just leave it there. Its' fine...thank you!" She smiled, bobbed a curtsy and vanished as quickly as she had appeared. "Shit!" "Now, now, Mr Riley. That's no way to talk about the staff!" Kerrison was laughing so hard that he looked in danger of falling of the bench. "Well really, she should have knocked!" "You ever had her?" The question took Jonathan by surprise. "NO! I certainly have not! Why she's been with us since I was a little boy. She doesn't think of me like that! It's probably just that she used to bathe me when I was little." "Hmmmp! I reckon she looked like she'd like to bathe yer again! Should I call her back?" "NO! I'm not interested in her! She's far too old anyway, she must be twenty four by now." Jonathan took the opportunity to dip his head beneath the water, wishing he could keep it there. He came up gasping, water running down his hair and into his eyes." "She's a fine looking girl and twenty four is not that old." Kerrison tilted his head to one side and smirked. "You ever had a woman?" he asked as he leant back against the wall and pulled his feet up onto the bench. "Of course I have!" Jonathan declared hotly. He scrubbed the soap into his hair a little harder than was necessary. "Yer know a bit about 'em then?" Jonathan swallowed. He wondered where Kerrison was going with his questions. "A bit," he replied cautiously. "Yeah? You done it much then?" "Three times, well, almost three...you see the first time I didn't quite get it into.." Jonathan was spared any further explanation by Kerrison's outburst of laughter. "Three times? Three different women then?" "ER, no, just one... a whore in Gibraltar. Satisfied!" Kerrison shook his head and wiped his eyes. "Sorry Jonathan, but I think yer education has been lacking a bit. Yer know enough about men, but yer don't seem at all sure about women." Jonathan remained silent, not knowing what to say. Should he simply tell Kerrison that he really wasn't interested in women? What would the Mate make of that? Kerrison must have sensed Jonathan's discomfit, because he stopped laughing and continued in a more serious fashion. "Sorry, I shouldn't tease yer like that. Yer got plenty of time, of course. Sometimes I forget how young yer still are. Why yer probably don't even shave yet." Kerrison's observations, no matter how well meant, annoyed Jonathan. "Yes I do! Lionel let me use his razor not long ago! And while I am on leave I intend to get a shaving kit of my own!" Kerrison just smiled at that. "Yer still got a bit of growing to do though; you'll get a bit bigger and thicken up a bit." Jonathan looked down into the bath water. "My frigate you mean?" he asked wryly. "No! I meant those skinny arms and legs of yours! There's nothing wrong with yer frigate!" Kerrison jumped off the bench and crossed to the bath. Jonathan waited expectantly, but was strangely disappointed when the Mate merely caressed his cheek with his hand. "But I like yer feeling all soft like this. It will be a shame when it changes." He leant in and kissed Jonathan's lips but pulled away before Jonathan could respond. "Here, I'll rinse yer hair off. It's time to get out because I don't fancy a cold bath!" "I can always get Jerusha to bring some more hot water, Kerrison. I'm sure you'd like that." Jonathan teased, pleased when he saw embarrassment wipe the smirk from Kerrison's face. Chapter Ten Hair dried, measurements taken, and wearing fresh clothes that Mrs Sharpels had dug out of one of the chests in the attic, the two young men were finally free for the morning. Jonathan insisted that Kerrison come with him down to Langstone to see the harbour. "Christ, haven't yer had enough of the bloody water? I thought we was on leave." Kerrison grumbled as he tagged along behind. The trousers he was wearing were slightly too short, but easily wide enough. Jonathan's own were a slightly better fit. At least the heavy coats they wore kept out the chill wind that blew in from the sea. "It's lovely down here, you'll see. You'll like it." Jonathan suddenly thought of the beach that Kerrison had shown him on the African coast. "Of course it isn't as nice as that beach where we went swimming, but..." Jonathan didn't bother to finish the sentence. Kerrison had seen so much, so many places. How could Langstone harbour possibly compare to the rest of the world? Jonathan felt a stark disappointment take hold. "I wanted yer that day, yer know." Kerrison's mind was obviously thinking on a different tack. "Hmmm?" Jonathan asked. "When I was teaching yer to swim. I wanted yer real bad that day." The admission, delivered on a low husky whisper, made Jonathan forget his previous disappointment quickly. "I wanted you too, Jack. The way you looked at me, the way your hands felt on my skin. It was so..." They both stopped walking and looked at each other, eyes ablaze with a growing passion. "Jack..." Jonathan began, his hand reaching out towards Kerrison. "Keep walkin'. Just keep walkin'." Kerrison turned on his heel and continued towards the harbour. "You'll bloody get us arrested Mr Riley!" "ME? What did I do?" Jonathan asked, slightly bewildered. He hurried to catch up. "Yer'd drive a saint to buggery, so yer would! No wonder Mr Kennedy lost all his senses on the bloody Mistral!" "Hah! Well perhaps you'd like to tell me why Mr Bowles was so keen to take you on as Mate? I heard he wouldn't hear of anyone else for the position." Jonathan smirked as he saw his words hit home. "Fancy you did he?" "Cheeky little bugger, yer are." Kerrison glanced sideways at Jonathan but there was no real anger in his gaze only amusement. "Suppose I deserved that, didn't I." He laughed lightly. "You're starting to give as good as yer take, yer know." "So why DID he make you mate?" Jonathan persisted, certain that there was a story lurking just below the surface. "When I wasn't on watch I'd hang around the main deck when Mr Bowles held the navigation classes for the Young Gentlemen or when they took the noon days sightings. I learned a lot that way. While the midshipmen were scratching away on those bloody slates, I'd do the calculations in me head." Kerrison paused to take in the look of astonishment on Jonathan's face. "You couldn't have!" Jonathan wondered if Kerrison was being entirely honest. "Yes I could! I could beat most of them to the answer too. It didn't take long for Mr Bowles to work out what I was doing. He'd come over to me and have me whisper the answer while the others were still working. When Fraser went overboard he asked the Captain if I could take his place. Nothing sinister about it; he was just grateful to have someone who knew a bit of bloody math!" It was in interesting story but Jonathan was not sure if he should believe the Mate's boast. No doubt Mr Bowles would have been impressed by one of the ratings showing an interest in his navigation classes and thought such a man would make a good Mate, but Kerrison's claim to his maths ability might be no more than simple boasting. The calculations were complex and most of the midshipmen struggled even when they had the advantage of formal schooling. Still, Kerrison had surprised him more than once with his abilities so perhaps he was telling the truth. They reached the harbour and stopped at the shingled beach that stretched before them. Further around the foreshore they could see mills built right at the edge of the water, each serviced by a quay where barges were waiting to transport their produce to town. "That's Hayling Island out there." Jonathan pointed to a large island in the centre of the harbour. "There's a wadeway out to it. See those oak posts, they mark the path. I think it was built by the Romans" "Romans eh?" They wandered around the foreshore, side by side, warm now in the midday sun. "There are a lot of fishermen living here too. Jerusha's father and brothers are fishermen." They approached yet another mill where Jonathan stopped and pointed. "This one's a wind mill. See it's different from the one next to it." They walked a little further. "Most of the mills are run by water, because we have so much of it here, streams and springs, all fresh." "Yeah well I'm getting pretty thirsty from all this walking! You'll wear out me boots at this rate!" "There is one other industry that might interest you Kerrison," Jonathan waited for the anticipated groan before he continued. "Brewing! There are several breweries and malt houses and most of the Beer Houses brew their own supply." "Oh yeah?" Kerrison asked, his interest suddenly aroused. "I might like to see those." "Yes, I thought you might. Perhaps we could try some a bit later." Jonathan frowned for a moment "Although I am not sure my mother will be too pleased when I tell her." Chapter Eleven "You are going WHERE after supper? Oh Jonathan, no, I don't think that would be very...er...well I just don't think I should allow that!" "Mother I am almost seventeen! Having a few quiet ales at The Black Dog is hardly a night of debauchery! It's a reputable establishment! Why, they even hold the petty sessions court in the rooms upstairs." "You are sixteen and a half Jonathan and I don't think you should be entering public houses. Why you can't imagine what might happen in places like that!" "Mother I am NOT a child. Why in Gibraltar I...umph" Under the table Kerrison's boot struck Jonathan's shin with a resounding crunch. Jonathan was not deterred. "I visited several inns and ale houses and came to no harm. I did the same in Portsmouth. Really Mother there is no need for your concern. Besides," Jonathan grinned at Kerrison across the table. "Mr Kerrison will be with me and he will make sure I don't come to any harm. Won't you Kerrison?" Kerrison cleared his throat. "Yes, Ma'am. I'll won't let him out of me reach." Minerva Riley sniffed and reached for a small lace handkerchief from somewhere in the folds of her gown. She delicately dabbed at her eyes before blowing her nose quite loudly. "Very well Jonathan, I can see your mind is made up. You are not my little cuddly baby boy any more; I must accept that fact. You really are becoming more and more like your father everyday." She sighed loudly and shook her head. "It's a woman's lot to never understand men, or for them to understand her. They will always do whatever they want to and no pleading or beseeching will make any difference." "Mother...we are just going to have a drink..." "No, no, you don't have to make your explanations to me. The ways of men are a mystery." She shook her head again. "Please excuse me now I am feeling quite faint. I think I need one of my special teas. Mrs Sharpels, MRS SHARPELS!" As his mother left the room, Jonathan rested his head in his hands with a groan. "It could have been worse, I suppose." Kerrison frowned and chewed his lip a bit. "I thought she took it quite well!" The Black Dog was a popular drinking place, as was The Bear and The Millrace, and The Bargeman. Indeed wherever they went, Jonathan seemed to meet someone who knew him before he went to sea. At first he was embarrassed by the constant references to how he much he had grown, but after a while they became more welcome. This coupled with the fact that almost everyone wanted to buy he and Kerrison a drink did much to lift Jonathan's spirits. Soon he was talking on and telling stories, outdoing even Kerrison, who was content to sit back and grin while Jonathan held the floor. Boyhood friends, men who had known his father and uncle and grandfather, all looked at him with a newfound resect as he recounted tales of battles and storms. It was a feeling more potent than any of the ale, beer or spirits he consumed. It was quite late when they staggered back home, Jonathan leaning on Kerrison's shoulder. It wasn't because he couldn't walk straight, he told himself. It was simply so that he could enjoy the feel of Kerrison's arm around him, holding him close. The Mate's hand, hidden under Jonathan's coat, rested firmly on his arse. Jonathan couldn't help but giggle. "Shhh, you'll wake the whole bloody street not to mention yer mother." Kerrison whispered harshly as he fumbled with the doorknob. In answer, Jonathan used his weight to overbalance the Mate and push him against the wall where he kissed him soundly. "At least wait till we are bloody well inside the door!" Kerrison said in exasperation when he had managed to push Jonathan off. The door finally gave way and they tumbled into the hallway. "Shh, you don't want to wake her." Kerrison insisted again. Jonathan simply grabbed his friend's hand and dragged him up the stairs. They passed the two bedrooms on the first floor and continued up the stairs to the attic. Once behind the closed door, Jonathan let go his passion and grabbed Kerrison again. Clothes were discarded along with any self-restraint that was left. They fell onto the bed, heaving flesh and straining muscles. Jonathan was dimly aware of Kerrison laughing, saying something about Shakespeare being wrong before they both ceased to think at all. Hot and frantic, wild and reckless: they cried out their pleasure with a lack of restraint they had not previously allowed themselves, loud in the silent night. Chapter Twelve "I know about your friend Mr Kerrison, Jonathan. I know what he was doing last night." They were seated at the table in the parlour eating breakfast. Kerrison had declined to join them, declaring he was going for a walk. Jonathan had wished he could do the same, for neither of them felt like eating anything. Their heads ached and their stomachs felt queasy. But his mother had looked so forlorn when Jonathan started making his excuses that he had relented. Now however, the few sips of tea he had managed to swallow turned over in his stomach at his mother's words. "You do, Mother?" He put the china teacup down with a clatter. "Yes I do and it's no use trying to deny it. I heard him!" Minerva Riley delicately picked up a piece of toast and nibbled the corner. "You heard? What? What did you hear?" Dear God! Jonathan stared at his mother and felt his hands begin to tremble. How could they have been so careless? "I heard him calling out, Jonathan! Calling out to the Virgin Mary and Jesus Christ and various Saints. I KNOW what he is! I know what he was doing. He was probably down on his knees.." "Mother! NO, you are mistaken, It's not what you think." Jonathan interrupted. He had to think of some excuse, some other reason. He could never admit the truth to his mother. "Jonathan I know what I am talking about. I know what your Mr Kerrison does, what he is; he's a PAPIST!" "A Papist?" Jonathan blinked, thinking he must have misheard. "Yes and he's up there every night saying the rosary! It's no use denying it, Jonathan, there is simply no other explanation for what I heard last night!" She leaned across the table and dropped her voice a little. "He may even be Irish. His name has that sound to it!" Jonathan swallowed, assessing his mother's words. Perhaps it was best to let her think Kerrison was Catholic; a far better option than facing the truth. Besides it was unlikely Jack would mind. Kerrison would probably laugh. "Yes Mother, you are right. He IS Catholic, but he's a good friend and I try not to let it come between us." He picked up the teacup again and gulped another mouthful. "You must be careful Jonathan. Why he might try to convert you to his ways. Those Catholics have some strange habits you know!" "Yes mother, I'll be very careful," Jonathan replied. He suddenly felt an uncontrollable urge to laugh. Now that his initial shock had worn away, the whole situation seemed quite funny. "Of course you realise Jonathan that this will mean that he won't be able to come to Sunday services with us." Minerva continued on, immediately seeking more problems to worry about. "Not to mention lunch at Mrs Hawthorne's! You know I go there every Sunday but I simply couldn't take a Papist with me! We shall have to leave him here!" "Mother, he's a guest. We can't leave him alone. I'll stay with him. It's only polite." Perhaps this whole 'catholic' confusion was a blessing in disguise if it got them both out of Sunday services and lunch at Mrs Hawthorne's. Sunday was Mrs Sharpels day off and he and Kerrison would have the whole house to themselves for most of the day. Jonathan smiled and stood up from the table. "I think I had best go and find Mr Kerrison and appraise him of the situation. I am sure he will be quite concerned that he has offended you, Mother." "Well as long as he knows that I do not stand with that sort of ...behaviour! Particularly not in the middle of the night." Minerva Riley rolled her eyes. "I can see why he keeps such practices hidden. They'd hardly allow him to do that on board ship, would they!" "Yes, Mother I think you might be right." Jonathan left the room hastily, uneasy in the knowledge that his mother's words were true. Chapter Thirteen In the days that followed they fell into a kind of routine, a legacy perhaps of their time aboard ship. Each morning they would wake from habit at four a.m.; the start of the morning watch. This allowed Jonathan time to creep back to his own cold bed before Mrs Sharpels arrived to cook breakfast. When the delicious smells could no longer be ignored, they would rise and dress and wait in anticipation in the parlour. Minerva Riley usually appeared scant minutes before Mrs Sharpels had their breakfast ready and Jonathan imagined that his mother had her own watch system that she followed as precisely as any Naval Officer. After breakfast Jonathan would spend some time with his mother sitting in the parlour. This was the only time of the day when he and Kerrison were apart, but Jonathan had explained to the Mate that he felt he should do this. His mother was pleased of course and after a few days ventured to ask Jonathan about his own experiences aboard the 'Indefatigable'. In respect of her delicate condition Jonathan spared her the harsher realities and concentrated on his more light hearted adventures. Whilst Jonathan was engaged with his mother, Kerrison would usually take a book out into the garden, find a patch of weak sunlight and spend some time reading; something of which he never seemed to tire. Other days he would stroll up to Havant on undisclosed missions. Jonathan secretly wondered if he went there to drink although he never detected anything on the Mate's breath. When Jonathan finally managed to escape his mothers clutches, he would seek out Kerrison and they would usually wander down to the harbour to see what was happening. Despite Kerrison's initial reluctance, the harbour held a great interest for him. One day they crossed the wadeway to Hayling Island and spent several hours exploring. Dinner was usually a trying affair as Kerrison battled his way through at times welding his knife and fork as one would a cutlass. The china suffered. After dinner they would rest in the parlour, talking or reading, although Jonathan could rarely find a book that interested him. Sometimes he'd simply sit and watch Kerrison seated by the window, the sunlight illuminating the pages of whatever book currently held his fancy. Kerrison was such a contradiction. Born to such a humble heritage and yet obviously gifted with a keen intellect and a strong desire to learn. What a different life he would have led if graced with a privileged family. Afternoon tea was the time of day that Jonathan came to look forward to. Mrs Sharpels went out of her way in baking the most delicious cakes and pastries for the two young men. Jonathan tucked into these treats with a relish but Kerrison seemed strangely reticent. "They're too ...sweet!" Kerrison quietly confided to Jonathan one afternoon. "I never had so many sweet things in my life. It's a bit much." Raised on a diet of ship's fare, it took Kerrison a few days to get a taste for the frivolous fancies that Jonathan had taken for granted as a child. Of an evening after supper, Jonathan and Kerrison would sometimes walk to Havant for a quiet glass of ale, but made sure not to repeat their earlier indiscretion and always returned home quite sober. Once Minerva Riley was in bed and asleep, Jonathan would leave his room and join Kerrison in the attic bed. It was a challenge for them to remain silent each night when they made love, but one that both young men rose to with enthusiasm. They made love everyway they knew and then invented some of their own. It was Jonathan who proved to be the more adventurous of the two, his ingenuity limited only by his imagination. At first Kerrison was more than a little hesitant when it came to anything different, his previous sexual encounters having had little variation. But with some applied effort, Jonathan soon found he could convince the Mate to try almost anything. It proved to be an enlightening time. Afterwards they would dose and talk and it seemed to Jonathan that there was nothing they could not discuss. It was as much this sharing of confidences as it was the sharing of their bodies that made their relationship so different to what he had known with Archie. Kerrison treated him as an equal, someone to confide in, to trust. The mate didn't see him as a child, despite their age difference. But even that was no longer as great as Jonathan had first thought it too be. Even the difference in their experience didn't seem to mean anything to Kerrison who despite being always ready to tease had a way of letting Jonathan know it wasn't meant seriously. It was the fifth night of their leave and they lay together, tired and sated in each other's arms. Both young men were thinking of the coming Sabbath. "Tomorrow! She'll go early and we can spend the day here, in bed, doing whatever we want to." Jonathan layed a soft kiss against Kerrison's chest where he rested. "It's hard to believe our leave is almost over." "Been good though, hasn't it." Kerrison whispered against Jonathan's hair. "Very good. I am going to miss this when we are back on board." The thought of not being able to hold Kerrison for days at a time left Jonathan feeling miserable. "We still got a couple more days to go yet. I was wondering if yer wanted to go back to Portsmouth a day earlier?" The mate paused uncertainly. "Perhaps we could find us a couple of women there, yer know?" "Women?" How on earth had they come back to this? "Yeah, I thought yer might like to try it out again." Despite the warm arms surrounding him, Jonathan suddenly felt cold. In all their midnight conversations this was one topic that had not been raised. "Jack," Jonathan began slowly, knowing he'd have to speak now. "I don't want to find a woman. I'm not really interested in them. I just want to be with you." "Not interested? Are yer sure? Yer probably just don't know what yer missing yet, that's all. If yer give it another go yer'll probably find that yer feel different about it now. Yer might like it better." Did Kerrison doubt the sincerity of his feelings? Did he think that in a year or two Jonathan would suddenly turn to women and forget him? "No Jack, you don't understand," Jonathan whispered quietly, listening to Kerrison's heart beating. "I won't like it any better no matter how many times I try it. I know that much about myself." "All right, I know what yer trying to say." Kerrison reached up to stroke Jonathan's hair gently. Suddenly his voice sounded very serious. "But yer got to understand that it's different for me. I like women too, yer see. I can't pretend I don't see 'em and think about 'em and want 'em at times." "I see Jack." Jonathan wondered if his voice sounded as shakey as he felt. He shouldn't be disappointed by Kerrison's words, for his friend was only being honest. And Kerrison had accepted his confession, so Jonathan knew he should do the same. But somehow he couldn't stop feeling a little hurt by Kerrison's revelation. Was this just a novelty to him? A taste of something that had hitherto been out of his reach? He felt so close to Kerrison and yet now Jonathan wondered if he really knew his friend at all. "And I still say you might change yer mind when you get a bit older. You'll meet the right girl and you'll see how good it can be." "No, I won't." Jonathan leaned up on his elbows and faced Kerrison where he lay upon the stark white sheets. "It's not about how good it feels, it's about...It's about YOU. You're the one, Jack. I love you." Jonathan searched Kerrison's face for some hint of what he felt, but the hazel eyes were hidden by the darkness. The silence stretched out between them. Slowly a roughened hand came up to touch his lips, his cheek. As always, Jonathan was amazed by the gentleness. "I love you too Jonathan, with all my heart." The words were the merest breath of a whisper but so full of feeling that Jonathan did not doubt their sincerity. "There, that's something I have never told anyone before. We're even now, Jonathan." The kiss that followed was slow and deep, different although Jonathan could not say how. "You and me, Jack," he whispered, as they looked into each other's eyes, so close now that even the darkness was no longer a barrier. "You and me, Jonathan, forever and always," Kerrison replied. Jonathan felt a shiver run down his spine. Had they tempted fate by saying the words? Were some things better left unsaid? Archie Kennedy's advice came back to Jonathan bringing little comfort with it. Surely it didn't have to be like that? Surely somehow he and Kerrison could find a way remain together? "One day, I will be Captain and you can be my Sailing Master. We can sail the Atlantic together or maybe go to India and then on to the Pacific? What do you think Jack? We could be together forever!" "I think it sounds good," Kerrison replied, sounding strangely sad. His voice changed suddenly though and his next words were full of the old banter. "But I think yer might need to pass yer Lieutenants examinations first." Jonathan's reply was lost as Kerrison kissed him soundly. Chapter Fourteen "And so then Lionel said I should wear a dress and fall overboard to catch Mr Kennedy's attention. It really was rather funny." It was Sunday morning, and weak sunlight filtered through the attic window to the bed where they lay tangled in the sheets. "He thought yer should wear a bloody dress then? To catch Mr Kennedy's eye?" Kerrison seemed to think about this for a moment. "I think yer'd look bloody good in a dress. Brush yer hair out a bit and yer'd look like a girl!" "I'm not sure I should take that as a compliment Kerrison!" "Come on, we'll go find out then!" Before Jonathan could refuse, Kerrison pulled him out of the bed and towards the door. The mate retrieved his trousers from the floor on the way. "Here, wait on, just what are you talking about?" Jonathan made a grab at his own clothes but Kerrison pulled him out of the door before he could reach them. "Yer mother's bound to have dresses and such in her room. Yer can try one on!" "WHAT! Have you gone quite mad?" Ignoring Jonathan's protests, Kerrison opened the door to Minerva Riley's bedroom and entered. It was a room that could only be described as pretty. The walls were pure white but every other surface was in roses. The curtains, the counterpane on the large wooden bed, the cushions were all patterned with roses. Small watercolours of roses adorned the walls. Even the air held the faint scent of rose water. Jonathan wondered if his father had even felt at home here. Kerrison crossed to the small chest at the foot of the bed and opened it. Jonathan smiled to himself. Of course Kerrison would look there first! Chests were probably the only place the Mate imagined clothes would ever be stored. He wondered if Kerrison had ever looked inside a wardrobe. Still he wasn't about to correct the mate's mistake and point him in the direction of his mother's dresses. He might yet be saved from this embarrassment. Unfortunately the chest held far more damning articles. As Kerrison attempted to fasten the buttons on his trousers with one hand he rifled through the chest with the other until he let out a whoop of victory. "Oh I like this," he exclaimed as he brought forth a thin shift of some sort. Jonathan stared aghast. He was suddenly very conscious of standing in his mothers room, stark naked, looking at her underthings. "Put that away! You can't go through her...things!" "Put it on," Kerrison grinned, "Go on, I dare yer." Kerrison wandered over slowly, holding the thin cotton garment gently in is large hands. It was very white and faintly transparent. Delicate white lace edged the neckline and hemline and ribbons decorated the bodice and waist. "Go on, Jonathan, do it for me?" Pleading was a side of Kerrison that Jonathan had not yet encountered. The mate usually got whatever he wanted with very little objection from Jonathan. "I'd really like to see yer wearing it?" Kerrison asked again, eyes taking on a mournful look. Jonathan laughed. "All right, but just for a minute." He slid the thing over his head and struggled to get his arms into the small holes. It was a tight fit. "Now this thing, it goes around ..er..here somewhere." Kerrison pulled a whalebone corset from the chest and held it out eagerly. "Now just a minute Mr Kerrison!" "Oh I like it when yer call me that. Say it again!" Before Jonathan could reply, Kerrison had grabbed him and turned him, wrapping the corset firmly around his waist. "Hold still while I tie it up like." Kerrison demanded. "I will not, get it off," Jonathan commenced to struggle but was suddenly aware of the fine cotton of the shift he was wearing and how easily it would tear. How would he explain THAT to his mother? "Oommmph. Not so tight!" How ever did women breathe in these contraptions? When Kerrison had finished tying the laces he slid one arm around Jonathan's waist and pulled him close against his groin. The other hand slid over Jonathan's shoulder and down the front of the shift. Rough fingers found a nipple and teased. "What are you doing Mr Kerrison?" Jonathan bit his tongue as he said the name. There was no use adding fuel to the fire. "Feeling yer up!" Kerrison's lips began trailing wet kisses down Jonathan's neck and the hand around his waist slipped lower to Jonathan's thigh and began kneading his flesh through the thin cotton. "Look Jack, I really think this has gone far enough." "I want to go a bit further." Kerrison nipped at his ear and rubbed his erection against Jonathan's arse. Suddenly Jonathan caught their reflection in his mother's dressing table mirror. Pale skin draped in even paler cotton. Kerrison behind him, his tanned arms like two dark snakes entwined around Jonathan's body. Red blonde curls, an untidy tumble about his shoulders, whilst Kerrison sucked at his neck. The whole scene was strangely arousing. "Unhand me Mr Kerrison. You are taking far too many liberties." Jonathan squeaked in falsetto. Kerrison's laugh, muffled against Jonathan's neck changed to a gasp as Jonathan stamped on his foot. Jonathan took the opportunity to break Kerrison's embrace and run to the door. "Come back here wench, I'm not through with yer yet!" "You'll never take my virtue, Sir! I'm not that sort of girl!" With a girlish squeal, Jonathan sprang out the door. He took the stairs two at a time. The corset pinched as he drew breath and the shift tangled between his leg. No wonder women were so hopeless and helpless. It was their clothes! "Come back here, my pretty! No use running from me cause when I catch yer I'm going to fuck yer good and proper!" Kerrison pounded down the stairs after him. "Oh no your not! You'll not get your hands on me!" Despite the imminent loss of his virtue, Jonathan couldn't help but laugh at the game. A weapon! That's what he needed! Jonathan dashed through the door to the kitchen. "Arrghhhh!" Mrs Sharpels startled face stared at him. A large pan of roasted potatoes balancing precariously in her hands. "Master Jonathan!" "Mrs Sharpels!" "Got yer, yer little tease!" Kerrison's large arms grabbed Jonathan around the waist as he came hurtling through the doorway wearing only his breeches.   "I'm sorry we startled you Mrs Sharpels, but we thought we were alone." "I can see that," The housekeeper replied dryly. "We were just...er that is to say we are...er...Rehearsing! Yes, rehearsing for a play....for...the Captain...." Mrs Sharpels slowly nodded her head, still staring at the two young men. "Your mother mentioned that you'd be here all by yourselves so I thought I'd bring you dinner. I know what young men are like and I doubted either of you would give a thought to eating. I can see I was right!" "Er well thank you Mr Sharpels...umm we'll just go and ...er..." "I'll put your plates in the oven and it will be waiting for you when you've finished." The housekeeper frowned and narrowed her eyes. "What play did you say it was again?" "Play?" Jonathan asked. Kerrison nudged him sharply with his elbow. "Oh! It was Shakespeare!" Jonathan declared, although the name of every play he'd ever read suddenly deserted him. "The Taming of the Shrew!" Kerrison added helpfully as Jonathan pulled him out the door. "Looks more like a Midsummer Night's Dream," was the dry reply from Mrs Sharpels. Chapter Fifteen With dinner finished, Mrs Sharpels was once more dispatched to the house she shared with her brother and his family. Jonathan returned his mother's underwear to the chest none the worse for wear and the two young men once again reclined the attic bed dozing in the afternoon sunlight. "Do yer think Mrs Sharpels will tell yer mother how she caught us and what we was doing?" Kerrison asked. The same thought had been plaguing Jonathan throughout dinner. "No. She'll keep it to herself. She knows my mother would have a fit if she knew." "She must have wondered what we was about, though?" Kerrison sounded a little worried. "Well hopefully she believed the tale about the play. Quick thinking on my part, don't you agree?" Jonathan was quite proud of his deception. "Quick thinking all right, but I doubt it was enough to make up for the fact that me trousers were only half buttoned and you have bite marks all down yer neck!" Jonathan put his hand onto the offending area with a scowl. "Well there is not much we can do about it then. I dare say Mrs Sharpels is having a good laugh about it and so should we." "When will yer mother be back? Kerrison asked, one hand coming up to with a tangled curl of red hair. "Not before evening. We have a few hours yet." Jonathan replied lazily. He loved the feel of Kerrison's fingers playing with his hair. "Good, because there is something I want to do." Kerrison sprang from the bed and dug into his canvas bag to pull out a rolled sheet of parchment, a quill and a bottle of ink. "Yer didn't tell me they made parchment here abouts." Kerrison added waving the sheet at Jonathan. "What are you doing?" Jonathan asked full of curiosity as Kerrison, oblivious to the fact that he was still naked, proceeded to drag the small desk far enough away from the window so that he could move the chair behind it. Jonathan sat up to get a better look. "Don't move! Stay there. I want to draw yer!" "Draw me? Like this? Without my clothes?" "Yeah, I think yer look good like that. I bought this piece of parchment just for it! Fine stuff it is too. Now lay down on yer belly again, yes, like that." Jonathan followed directions and soon Kerrison was busy, sharpening the quill and opening the ink and finally setting quill to paper. "Is this going to take long? I'm cold!" Kerrison ignored him. Jonathan tried another question. "Umm what are you going to do with it when you are finished, Kerrison?" It would hardly be the sort of sketch you could show anyone. Kerrison looked up and frowned. "Keep still," was all he muttered before he went back to work. Jonathan tried to remain quiet for the next fifteen minutes hoping that Kerrison would work faster without distraction but the mate just seemed to get slower. A frown was soon creasing his forehead. The quill began to scratch loudly and frustration was echoed in his every move. "Let me see it!" Jonathan finally declared when he could no longer sit still. He jumped up and leapt across the floor. "That's my arse! Just my arse!" Was that all Kerrison had done in all this time? "Yes, I'm having a bit of trouble with the rest of you. Yer arse was easy," he continued with a grin and a wink. "It reminded me of Round Mountain down in.." "My arse looks like a mountain?" Jonathan was aghast. "Oh not just any mountain, Round Mountain! It's down in..." "Kerrison I have a better idea." Jonathan picked up the parchment before Kerrison could object. "Instead of drawing my arse, why not draw ON my arse?" "On yer arse?" "Yes! Why not give me a tattoo like that mermaid you have on your arm?" Jonathan's fingers traced the crude picture of a mermaid on Kerrison's forearm. "It would be nice if we had matching tattoos, don't you think? Of course Young Gentlemen are not supposed to have such things, so it would have to be out of sight. If you don't want to do my arse, then I have a few other places in mind?" Kerrison considered the proposal, a wicked gleam slowly lighting his eyes. "I'd have to prick yer, you know, don't yer." "I was counting on it, Kerrison, but AFTER you've done the tattoo." "No! Not that! I have to prick you with a needle! That's how yer do it. I draw it on and then prick yer skin and rub ink into it. It hurts a bit." "Oh," Jonathan's enthusiasm was beginning to wane unlike Kerrison who appeared to be quite taken by the idea. He was busy in his bag again and pulled out a bottle of rum. "Here, this is what we need. Drink a bit of this and you'll be fine." "Where ever did you get that?" "I bought it on one of my strolls. Thought it might come in handy." Jonathan rolled his eyes. No doubt the parchment was another souvenir of Kerrison's daily constitutional. He wondered if the mate had any other surprises waiting in store. "Just take a few swallows." Kerrison ordered, passing Jonathan the bottle. "It will give yer courage." Jonathan took three mouthfuls and almost choked. The rum nearly took his breath away. "Where do you want me?" Jonathan asked as he felt the rum hit his stomach. Kerrison grinned, but nodded towards the bed as he hunted through his sewing kit for a suitable needle. "Wait a minute...you can't do it here! You'll get ink on the sheets. They are stained enough as it is." Jonathan protested. "Well bend over the desk then. That might be better. There's more light there anyway." Jonathan attempted to get comfortable, not an easy matter when one was lying across a wooden desk with one's arse in the air. "Keep still so I don't fuck it up!" Kerrison grumbled as he went to work, quickly sketching. Kerrison must be better at drawing mermaids, Jonathan concluded for in no time at all the mate was ready to begin the next stage. First he took a large mouthful of rum then sucked the point of the darning needle into his mouth. Jonathan held his breath, steeling himself, but even so the first jab was unexpected. "OUCH!" Kerrison ignored the protest and kept on jabbing away, pausing only to sip at the rum or splash ink onto Jonathan smarting buttock. "There all done." Kerrison splashed some rum over the tattoo. Jonathan hissed at the resulting sting. With a final swig of rum, Jonathan stood up. "It must be small," Jonathan said between gritted teeth. The pain seemed to be concentrated in one tiny area that he desperately wanted to rub. "Is the ink dry or will I smudge it?" "Course it's dry, it's under yer bloody skin. Take a look." Jonathan strained to look over his shoulder. What he saw made him gasp. "That's NOT a mermaid!" "No it's something better!" Standing out in stark contrast to the creamy white of Jonathan's skin was a large copperplate K. "Kerrison! What have you done?" "Do you want me to add the J to it too?" Kerrison asked, bewildered by Jonathan's outburst. "Jack, do you know what could happen if anyone sees this?" "Oh and who do you go flashing yer arse at then, eh?" "No one, but I do have to share a berth with the other midshipman and I have to get dressed and undressed or have you forgotten?" Kerrison looked away, clearly disappointed by Jonathan's reaction. "Well tell them it stands for Katherine or Kitty or Kate! They won't comment on that except in envy!" he added sulkily. "I hope you are right." Jonathan said quietly. He watched as Kerrison packed his things away sullenly. "Look, I'm sorry, Jack. It wasn't what I was expecting, that's all." Jonathan took another look over his shoulder. "I quite like it, you know. Makes me feel like I sort of...belong to you." "And is that such a bad thing Mr Riley?" Kerrison asked, not looking up from where he squatted by his dunnage. "No it's a very good thing. Perhaps you could put my initials on you too?" "That's not a bad idea." Kerrison sounded a little happier. "I'd like that. But I couldn't do it on my arse, I can't reach there." He thought for a moment and slowly smiled. "I could do it here thought. He pointed to the smooth white flesh of his inner thigh. "I have a better idea. I could do it for you," Jonathan said enthusiastically. He bent to Kerrison's bag and pulled out the sewing kit again. "I can write neatly and I am sure the pricking part would be easy." "Here give me that." Kerrison pulled the sewing kit from Jonathan hands. "Do yer think I'm letting you anywhere near me with a needle! Yer got no bloody idea what yer doing! A man'd be bloody mad! Now you bring the ink and I'll do the pricking." In the end Kerrison consented to let Jonathan trace his initials onto his leg. The mate seemed unable to write upside down, something that surprised Jonathan given Kerrison's other abilities. Jonathan was secretly pleased however and grinned as he carefully wrote his initials on the white skin as Kerrison sat on the desk with his legs spread wide. He looked up once to catch Kerrison watching him with a proud look on his face. Perhaps Kerrison had feigned his lack of ability wanting Jonathan to share in the process too. The tattooing was done in silence; Kerrison's watering eyes the only testimony to his pain. His agile hand moved quickly, the needle going up and down, spots of blood mixing with the ink. "There, I'm yours now." Kerrison put down the needle and wiped his eyes quickly before taking a swig of the rum and washing his thigh. "That hurt!" he grimaced rubbing at the spot. "Shall I kiss it and make it better?" Jonathan asked. Without waiting for an answer he bent closer. The strong musky odour of Kerrison's groin was almost overpowering. Gently Jonathan placed a small kiss on the new tattoo. He grew a little bolder and licked at it gently, delighted when the soft skin quivered under his tongue. "Christ Almighty! What are yer doing?" For all Kerrison's experience, he sometimes was a little prudish. "I'm licking the ink off your leg. Don't you like it?" "Well yes, but just don't expect me to do that to you. I'm not licking the ink off your arse!" Jonathan stopped and looked up. "But that sounds like it would be fun Jack..." He wondered if pleading would work as well on Kerrison as it did on Archie. "I put on that...thing...of my mothers for you. Please." Kerrison spluttered with laughter. "Yer tongues gone blue! How are yer going to explain THAT to your mother?" It was obvious that the mate was trying to change the subject. Perhaps a bit of teasing might get the mate to oblige. Jonathan moved his tongue closer to Kerrison's groin. The mate caught his breath sharply. This close it was easy for Jonathan to see the growing effects of his ministrations. He moved a little closer to Kerrison's twitching cock. "Just watch yer teeth this time!" Kerrison hissed when Jonathan reached his target. "Yer bloody careless with 'em at times. I haven't forgotten the other night, yer know!" Jonathan stopped and sat up, pouting. "Well you shouldn't have had a hold of my hair like that! It wasn't MY fault. Besides, you said you liked it a bit rough sometimes." Kerrison rolled his eyes and slid off the desk, leaving Jonathan confused. "That's NOT what I meant. I can sympathise with your poor Mr Kennedy, now. You have too much enthusiasm and not enough sense!" He lay down on the bed and patted the space beside him. "Now don't look like that, come on over here and wash the rest of this ink off me." "Will you do it to me too Jack? There's ink all over my arse. It's only fair." Kerrison's eyes seemed to gleam in that late afternoon sun. "Yer wicked! Yer know that, don't yer! I don't know where you get half of yer ideas from sometimes." Kerrison paused as Jonathan slowly padded across the room towards him. Their eyes met and Jonathan saw something spark in the hazel depths that stared up at him from the bed. "But I like 'em." Kerrison whispered as he pulled Jonathan down. "I like 'em very much." Part 16 "Jonathan I am not going to ask why your tongue is blue. Neither am I going to ask if that is rum I smell on your breath." Minerva Riley stared up at her son. She was not a happy woman. "It is the Sabbath, Jonathan; a day for rest and prayer. I doubt you and your friend Mr Kerrison have been doing either." She waved her hand quickly dismissing Jonathan's objections. "No, I don't want to hear. You leave tomorrow and I don't want us to have an argument about anything tonight." She paused and wrung her hands, biting her lip. "Just tell me one thing Jonathan, please say that the blue tongues both you and Mr Kerrison seem to have are not something to do with some strange papist custom for observing a Saints day or some such nonsense. I couldn't bare to think that you have indulged yourselves in such activities whilst I was absent?" "Oh no mother, it was an accident. The ink spilt whilst Mr Kerrison was...er...writing something and we were cleaning it up, but we must have...er...licked our fingers, yes...that's it because we were...eating the scones that Mrs Sharpels left us for afternoon tea and ...that's how it happened." Jonathan took a deep breath and prayed he wouldn't start blushing. He adjusted the neck of his shirt, feeling more than a little guilty. "You were eating? In the guestroom? My goodness Jonathan, food should NOT be taken up there. It will attract mice! Heaven knows what else you have allowed Mr Kerrison to do in the attic!" Jonathan sighed. Kerrison had been smart enough to excuse himself for an evening walk when Minerva Riley arrived back from her day at Mrs Hawthornes'. Jonathan fidgeted and was just about to make his own excuses when his mother called him into the parlour. "Sit down Jonathan. This is NOT how I had hopped to spend our last evening together." Minerva Riley seated herself and looked across at her only son. Her eyes looked very big and blue in the lamplight. "Jonathan I was really hoping to speak to you about far more important matters before you left tomorrow." She paused and looked down at her small white hands. "I know I have not always been the best of mothers, Jonathan. But I have always had your best intentions at heart." She looked up, her eyes fill of pleading. "Mother," Jonathan began very softly. "No Jonathan, it must be said. You are the only thing I have left in this world Jonathan. You are dearer to my heart than anyone else, and I do not know what I would ever do if I lost you too. Life at sea is so precarious Jonathan, so uncertain. You must promise me that you will never take unnecessary risks." "Mother, I can't do that. I am an Officer in the Kings Navy. We are expected to take risks." Minerva Riley shook her head sadly. "You father said the exact same thing when I asked him that question." She looked up and smiled. "I should have known your answer would be the same. Your father would be proud of you Jonathan. He loved the Navy, and I think he was far happier when he was at sea than when he was at home." She shrugged her narrow shoulders and stood up. "Well I will have an early night, I think. You'd best go and find Mr Kerrison for no doubt you will want to be away early tomorrow and will need a good nights sleep before your walk." She crossed to where Jonathan was still seated and kissed him gently on the brow. "Goodnight." Jonathan waited till his mother had gone upstairs before going in search of Kerrison. He found him wandering back up the road from Langstone. "Don't tell me you walked all the way down there again? Anyone would think you missed the water!" "I'm just getting fit! We got to walk all the bloody way to Portsmouth again tomorrow and I can bet yer won't want to be sitting in some stinking cart in yer fancy new clothes." Jonathan slid his arm around Kerrison's waist as they stood in the darkened garden. There was no one around. Above them the stars glittered cold and distant. It was strange how the stars seemed so much further away on land now; yet another legacy of his time spent at sea. "I suppose you will want to sleep tonight." Jonathan whispered, suddenly feeling an unexplainable melancholy. "Perhaps I should stay in my own room?" "Nah," Kerrison replied sliding his own arm around Jonathan's shoulder. "I can't sleep unless you're there beside me. You're the only thing that makes the bloody bed comfortable." Jonathan reached up and kissed him quickly. "I'll be up in a while then." Chapter Seventeen The mate was crouched down beneath the window, a candle in his hand when Jonathan entered the attic a short time later. "Come here and see what I found." Kerrison said, waving Jonathan over. "I was putting the desk back and I saw this." Kerrison pointed to something on the wall. In the candlelight Jonathan could make out two sets of initials carved into the wood. J.R and R.B "J.R.? Is that you then?" Kerrison asked, his features distorted by the flickering candlelight. "No, but it could be my father James or my grandfather John. I wonder who R.B is?" "Must have been someone they had up here in the room. Didn't you say yer father bought his friends home with him?" Kerrison asked, one eyebrow raised in a way that Jonathan found unsettling. "Yes, but I hardly think he'd carve their initials in the wall...I mean, they were fellow Officers, nothing more." "Are yer sure about that?" Kerrison asked, speculation in his voice. "Of course I am sure." Jonathan defended. "He was married to my mother wasn't he!" "He wasn't always married." Kerrison responded quickly. "It might have been a woman. How about that, then? He'd sneak up here with some girl or other when he was younger..." "Kerrison I really think you are reading too much into this. They are simply two sets of initials..." "Hidden behind a desk!" Kerrison interrupted "Well I doubt the mystery will ever be solved," Jonathan concluded. "Let's get this back into place." "Wait on, let's put ours there too." Kerrison went in search of his knife while Jonathan held the candle. "I had no idea you were such a romantic, Jack." Jonathan whispered as he watched Kerrison carve into the wood. "I just wish we'd have known about this before we did the bloody tattoos." Kerrison grumbled. "It would have saved us all that pain."   It was almost enough to simply lay in each other's arm that night; almost, but not quite. This was to be their last night of privacy, their last night when they could hold each other and love each other freely without the risk of discovery. It was an opportunity not to be missed. But their earlier exertions had burned away the desperation that usually highlighted much of their lovemaking leaving them with a deeper need; a need for closeness and understanding, a need to be part of each other, a need to be one. It was as if they spoke without words, their actions telling of a fierce desire never to be separated as they clung to each other long after their bodies had cooled. It was Kerrison who finally spoke, taking Jonathan by surprise. "Do yer remember what yer said about you being the Captain one day and me being your Sailing Master?" "Yes," Jonathan held his breath, almost afraid of Kerrison's next words. Despite their closeness he still sometimes wondered how Kerrison really viewed their relationship. "Well if peace is declared like they are saying it will be, that won't happen. We'll be put ashore and I will have to look for a place as Mate on a merchant ship." "Yes, I know," Jonathan replied sadly. Why did Kerrison have to be so practical? "But if you pass for Mate, we could sign on together perhaps. Lots of midshipmen do it, for some it's their only course to the Quarterdeck. It's hard but I could help yer. What do yer say?" Jonathan smiled and hugged Kerrison tighter, knowing now that his friend was also thinking of ways they could remain together. "Yes, I'd be willing to try anything if it meant we could stay together Jack." "Aye, me to. I'd do anything for you, Jonathan. Anything." Chapter Eighteen "Oh Jonathan, I am not going to cry, I made that vow last night, but it is very hard letting you go. I will be all alone again." "Mother, you are not alone. You have Mrs Sharpels here to look after you. And Jerusha." Indeed Mrs Sharpels was hovering in the background ready to take over if Minerva Riley succumbed to one of her vapours. "I know Jonathan and I so look forward to the time when I will also have your wife and children here to keep me company when you are away at sea. Why it will only be a few more years and you will be marrying and children will come along." Minerva Riley looked up at her son, her eyes full of anticipation. Jonathan had to look away. What could he say? This more than anything made him realise just how different his life would be if he chose to follow what was in his heart. His mother's disappointment would only be the beginning. "Yes, mother, perhaps in time." It was all he could promise. He looked towards Kerrison but the mate was looking away, careful not to meet his eye. With his thoughts once more in turmoil, Jonathan bid his mother goodbye and set off with Kerrison on the road to Portsmouth. He waited for Kerrison to speak; wondering what the mate had made of his mother's departing words, but Kerrison remained silent. Perhaps the mate was also thinking about a wife and family? Kerrison freely admitted that he liked women. Was he prepared to give them up even for Jonathan? They trudged on in silence. It was noon when they reach Portsea and found a table at an inn near the docks. They were thirsty and hungry, but at least the walk had proved easier this time despite Jonathan being laden down with an extra bag containing his new clothes. "So, when do you have to be back on board?" Kerrison asked casually. They had spoken very little on the walk and as each mile passed, Jonathan's heart had grown heavier. His mother's words and Kerrison's silence had led to flights of fancy. Now as they sat eating a hearty meal of bread, cheese and pickles, Jonathan suddenly remembered Kerrison's suggestion to find some women when they returned to Portsmouth. Was the mate still hoping for a taste of something else before returning to the Indy? Jonathan felt his heart sink further. "Kerrison, I remember what you said to me that night, about finding a woman when we got back and I want you to know that if you want to do that, well I don't mind. I'll just go back aboard and you can find..." "Yer a silly little bugger sometimes." Kerrison whispered across the table, grinning. "What makes yer think I'd want to do that after I've spent a week with you? For one thing I'm too worn out!" Jonathan looked up forlornly. "Well you've been so quiet and all and you said you liked women too and I thought perhaps that you might be missing..." Kerrison took Jonathan's hand and held it in his own, not caring who saw. "I was quiet because I thought YOU might be having second thoughts after yer mother's touching little speech back there. I could see that it upset you and I didn't want to confuse you even more until yer'd had time to think about it and work it out for yerself." There was gentleness in Kerrison's hazel eyes when Jonathan looked at them. "I've said it before Jonathan, yer still very young. I know we said a lot of things to each other but anything might happen and you might change yer mind. I don't want you to think that you owe me something, see." "Oh Jack, I love you." Jonathan whispered, gripping the rough tanned hand even harder. "I swear that will never change." Kerrison smiled wistfully. "Sometimes I'm tempted to believe you," he replied wistfully. "Now finish up because we still got something to do before we go aboard." "Oh and what's that?" Jonathan asked, confused again. "Why we got to get yer that shaving kit. Yer going to need it!" Kerrison replied with a wink. The End of Book 6 of The Education of Jonathan Riley