“’Cos my days are hard, my nights are slow
And I am so alone
I’ll dream a dream that’ll never end
Till he comes home.”
     “The Lorry Ride” trad.

   William Turner frowned as he watched sunrise pink
clouds boil up slowly on the horizon. He was a
good-looking boy with dark hair, amber eyes, and a
face that turned many a head. Earlier, he’d seen
Captain Pratt march to his quarters, the new cabin-boy
following. The boy’s name was John Sparrow and he was
one of the prettiest cabin-boys to ever grace any
fleet. If William hadn’t seen the boy take a piss, he
might have thought the lad a girl dressed as a boy. As
it was, William found himself thinking wicked thoughts
about the lad anyway—especially since they’d been out
to sea for almost 2 months now without landfall.
They’d done some trading with a couple of other
merchant ships and a slaver out of Africa. The
dark-skinned captain of that vessel had grinned at
sight of the Sparrow boy and offered in broken King’s
English a barrel of breadfruit, a small but hearty pig
and two female slaves for the boy. William breathed a
sigh of relief when Captain Pratt smiled slightly and
turned the deal down.
   But the night Will had seen Johnny’s endowment had
been the night he’d first heard the boy’s cries of
pain and alarm. Having nearly been in the same
position a scant 2 years before, he understood that
the Captain was enjoying “the captain’s right” and
having his way with the lad. Being on the night-watch,
he had no way to avoid hearing the sounds unless he
agreed to man the nest. So, for the last two weeks,
he’d volunteered to spend the entire watch above the
topsail so that he didn’t have to hear the sounds.
Tonight, though, one of the other sailors had called
the crow’s nest so William was on the aft deck
watching for ships or squalls, pacing the boards
relentlessly and singing a drinking song about a
sailor courting a farmer’s daughter just loud enough
that he didn’t have to hear.
   “Turner, pipe the bloody hell down!” The Captain’s
voice, thick with lust, reached over the second
chorus. “I can’t—concentrate.”
   William dug his fingernails into his palms and
replied, “Aye, sir.”
   A hand fell on his shoulder and William whirled to
see Smitty, the gunner’s mate, grinning at him. His
relief had finally arrived. “What’s a matter,
Willie-boy? Jealous? I could take care o’ you, you
know.”
   “It’s William, and, no, I wouldn’t call it
jealousy.” William stopped at that and realized for a
moment that he wasn’t sure what he’d call the feeling
inside. As hard as it was to admit, there _was_ an
element of jealousy involved but it wasn’t like he
wanted to rape the Sparrow boy or to be raped by the
Captain. It wasn’t even just the opportunity to slake
his considerable lust—a difficult thing to do at his
age, even in a whore-house. “There’s been some clouds
kicking up aft but it don’t look like it’s coming this
way. Night, Smitty.”
   Smitty grunted in response and settled himself
against a bulk-head so he could smoke his pipe in
comfort. William knew without asking that Smitty was
listening avidly to the goings-on in the Captain’s
quarters. When William climbed into his bunk, he got
precious little sleep while he remembered the haunted
look in Sparrow’s eyes.
                                                      
                      X
   “Sparrow?”
   The boy didn’t look up but William could tell he
had his attention. “Sir?”
   “How are you doing?”
   John bit back his initial response then said,
“Fine, sir. I’m due in the Captain’s cabin--.”
  “I know,” William sighed and tried to figure out how
he was going to say the next words. “I think it’s time
I-we got off this ship. I’ve got a plan.”
   The dark eyes lifted to his for the first time in
weeks. “You’re talking about desertion, you know.”
   “I know,” William shifted and glanced around to see
if any other crewmembers were nearby. “I-I’ve
heard—about what the Captain is-does to you. It’s not
right.”
   Suddenly, the boy’s face darkened and his eyes
sparked. “You damn bet, it ain’t! But if we get caught
deserting--.”
   “We won’t.”
   “Why?” 
   “Why what?” William was taken aback. Somehow, he’d
imagined that the boy would be grateful and would be
eager to hear the details.
   “Why you? Why now? What’s changed?”
   William compressed his lips then said hesitantly,
“I don’t know.”
   Sparrow flashed an impish grin which made William’s
heart skip a beat. “Let me know when and what I’ve got
to do. I hope the captain tries to stop us. Make sure
you steal me a sword.”
   William shrugged. He watched as the cabin-boy drew
a deep breath, swallowed hard and shuffled off to his
duties. William realized he was truly committed to
getting Sparrow off this ship now and, despite the
dangers, he felt happier than he had in weeks.
                                                      
                      X
   Over the next 3 days, William spent every spare
moment going over his plan, pilfering supplies, and
gathering his courage. He chose the aft lifeboat for
their escape vehicle and during one night-watch, after
he’d plied the other two guards with rum, re-rigged
the ropes holding the lifeboat so that he could pull
one line and have the boat drop into the water. He
didn’t want the boat too obviously loaded but he did
put in some jerky, some line and a fish-hook or two, a
skin or two of water, a tarp and a blanket. It wasn’t
a lot but he hoped they could either find land
somewhere nearby or get picked up by another merchant
vessel within a day or two. Despite his excitement and
eagerness to get John away from Pratt, he wondered if
he’d done more harm than good in approaching the boy
before it was time. Last night, he’d heard the Captain
roar angrily then the sound of blows falling. When
he’d seen John this afternoon, the boy had a badly
swollen black eye. But the expression on Sparrow’s
face when he saw Turner, one of hope and
determination, made Turner’s heart soar.
   “So, where do you think we are?” He asked
Barrington, the navigator, that afternoon. Barrington,
a bit more than drunk, smiled snidely. 
   “I _know_ where we are, boy. The question is, does
our dear captain have a clue where he wants to go? And
that is the problem. Seems our captain is having so
much ‘fun’ with that little cabin-slut of his that
he’s deliberately dawdling about.”
   “So you think,” William began slyly, “That we might
actually get somewhere if the kid, say, fell
overboard?”
   “Not a bad idea,” Barrington looked intrigued. “Do
you have a plan?”
   William hesitated then sighed, “No, just
speculating. So how far are we from land or the
shipping lanes, at least?” 
  Barrington shrugged and waved a hand vaguely. “A
league or two at most. I have to give Pratt credit.
Hide in plain sight. Ingenious but the man disgusts
me.”
   William nodded and went back to patching the tear
in the sail he was working on. Unless something
drastic came up like a storm or pirates, they’d be
away from Pratt and the _Amanda Lee_ tonight.
                                                      
                      X
   William stood outside the door to the Captain’s
cabin and fought back the urge to scream in
frustration. The boat was ready, he was ready and he
was certain Sparrow was more than ready. He’d snuck up
on Crabbe, the other crewman on night-watch, as he
slept, gagged him, and tied him up. Now it was just a
matter of getting Sparrow out of the Captain’s cabin
but the Captain was still awake. He was about to go to
the armory and steal a pistol when there was a loud
thump from within the cabin. A few seconds later,
Sparrow yanked open the door, frantically tucking his
shirt into his breeches, his eyes flashing fire. He
startled and stepped back when he realized Turner was
at the door. 
   “Blimey, mate, don’t scare me like that! Let’s go.”
   William looked from John to the Captain, sprawled
naked on the floor, ass in the air. “Did you kill
him?”
   “I wish,” The younger boy growled. “Nah, I just
clobbered him with that walking stick he’s so proud
of. Let’s go.”
   Despite their desire to get away as quickly as
possible, they attempted to be casual in walking to
the lifeboat. They arrived to find Barrington standing
beside their escape boat.
   “Well, you _did_ have a plan after all, lad, didn’t
you?”
   For a moment, both boys just stood and gawped at
Barrington. After a moment, William spoke. “So are you
here to stop us?”
   Barrington took a long gulp from his flask then
smiled viciously. “And what if I were to say ‘yes’?”
   William dove for the boat, searching in a panic for
the cutlass he’d hidden. Instead, he heard John draw a
breath and Barrington speak.
   “Looking for this?”
   William turned to see Barrington holding John by
the pigtail in his hair, the cutlass resting lightly
against his throat. “What do you want?”
   “Hmmm,” Barrington considered. “What do I want?
Nothing from you but from the Captain . . . If I’d go
to the Captain right now and take our little friend
with me, I’d wager that he’d be most appreciative.
Shall we try it?”
   “Certainly,” William said and yanked on the line
he’d rigged. The boat dropped into the water with a
splash. Startled, Barrington turned, dropping the
cutlass from Sparrow’s throat. William grabbed John’s
shoulders and leaped into the water after it. The
water was warm but choppy from the ship’s wake.
William came up first, gasping, and spotted the boat.
He glanced around for John. The other boy surfaced
near him finally. William realized Sparrow was
struggling seriously so he grabbed the back of his
shirt and towed him to the boat. He pushed John up
into the boat then pulled himself aboard. He had no
idea if Barrington would raise the man overboard alarm
but he did know that they had to leave the area. He
put the oars into the locks and started rowing as fast
as he could the opposite direction.