Ocean Skin
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We are all in it, you see the world, and I do. All of us. You can’t separate the two. We’re a single whole, like the earth and moon, and if we’re to go anywhere at all, we’ll have to go together. It’s not just about you and me or you and them; it’s always been about all of us. It always has been.
If we don’t get that through our heads soon, this world is going to tear itself apart from the inside out. So what’s the answer? Do we wait for something else—something better or worse—to come along to save us? I’m sorry, but there ain’t no such thing. There never was an answer until now and there never will be.
The only question left is who gets saved, you and I or the rest of them? And how do we choose? I say let the rest go hang—we’re the ones worth saving.” —Hazel Dickens, “The Ocean Skin”
***
When the last star had fallen into place over the western sky, they found themselves facing the long straight black line of the Atlantic, stretching off into the dark toward the far horizon. The ship’s wake stretched away behind her, glowing silver under the moonlight.
They were all standing on the deck with their arms folded across their chests and heads bowed as a stiff cold breeze whipped the whitecaps around her decks. The night air was filled with the cries of gulls flying overhead, calling each other in their high-pitched voices. The crewmen had pulled up the fore staysail and the ship was running before the wind alone.
A sudden movement by the side of the boat caught Hazel’s eye. She looked down and saw a man sitting on one of the planks. He wore a long gray coat, its sleeves rolled back, his shirt cuffs hanging loose about his wrists, and he’d pulled his hat down low to keep it from blowing off his head.
The light of the full moon gleamed palely from the glass buttons of his doublet and shone softly over his shoulder where he held an enormous book open in front of him on the rail. When he turned to look back at them he smiled broadly, revealing even white teeth between wide lips.
His dark hair fell in thick braids down over his broad shoulders and his beard was neatly trimmed. He had a small pair of spectacles tucked into the top corner of his jacket pocket and he held a thin leather-bound volume bound in dark green with gold lettering.
“Well,” he called cheerfully to them when he saw them staring at him. “Are you all ready to read?”
“Read!” cried Roddy, clapping both hands on the gunwale. “You’ve got to be joking! Why would anyone want to read on a night like this?”
But the stranger merely laughed, a deep rolling sound that made Hazel wince at the echo it sent through the rigging and along the rails below.
“I am not joking, Mr. Roddy,” said the stranger with another smile. “You must be willing to try anything if you hope to survive this voyage across the ocean.”
Roddy glared at the man. “How can anyone be so daft?” he asked. “Why on earth should anyone be interested in reading on a night like this? What possible reason could someone have for doing something that makes any kind of sense at a time like this? We’re about to cross an entire continent in the dead of winter, and here you are trying to get us to read!”
“I know it seems absurd,” replied the stranger, still grinning as he set down his book and picked up a large bundle of papers he’d been carrying. “It may strike you as ridiculous, but I promise you it isn’t. In fact, you must admit it is exactly what we need.”
“What we need is for the damned captain to make a decent sail change!” Roddy bellowed at the man. “If she doesn’t put on some sail, she’s going to run aground.”
The stranger looked at Roddy curiously and then nodded his head at him.
“Yes,” he said. “She has been very reluctant to put on any more sail since we lost the mizzenmast in the storm.”
Roddy turned to Hazel. “And that’s your fault too, Miss Dickens,” he grumbled. “If you hadn’t insisted on keeping that idiot boy aboard, we wouldn’t be having this trouble now!”
He spun around and began stalking back toward his cabin to pack his bag again.
“No, no,” said the stranger quickly, holding up his hand to stop him. “I assure you I’m not blaming Miss Dickens for any of this.”
“Well, I don’t care whether you blame me or not,” Roddy growled back. “You just better pray you never meet me in a dark alleyway because I’ll beat you bloody before I let you take my money!”
Hazel stepped forward and took his arm gently. “Roddy…”
“Don’t touch me!” he shouted angrily at her. “Not after what happened to you tonight.”
“All right, then,” she sighed, and she watched him go into his cabin, slamming the door behind him. She glanced nervously at the stranger who didn’t appear to notice.
“I’m afraid we’ve made quite the scene, haven’t we?” Hazel asked him apologetically.
The man laughed again and shook his head as he picked up the book he’d been using. It was bound in blue vellum and covered with silver studs.
“You’ve nothing to apologize for, young lady,” he answered. “In fact, I’m flattered by all the attention. I was worried I might get left behind out here in the cold.”
“Left…behind?” Hazel repeated. Her mouth dropped open at his words.
“That’s right, young lady,” said the strange man with another laugh. “I came looking for Captain Flint and found myself instead on this miserable ship.”
“You were looking for the captain?”
He nodded.
“Well, how do you happen to know that we have a captain at all?”
The stranger smiled, but there was a look in his eyes that suggested he knew something she did not.
“My name is James Henry,” he told her. “I’ve been waiting for a good excuse to come talk to you for some time now.”
Hazel blinked at him and cocked her head in confusion.
“You mean to say that you knew about the captain all along?” she exclaimed.
James nodded and handed her back the book.
“Captain Flint had sent me here years ago, as it turns out.” He paused for a moment and seemed to struggle with something before continuing. “But when we reached the coast, things started to go terribly wrong. You see, I’m really not much of a sailor myself, so when I arrived, I was taken aback by the way Captain Flint had organized his crew.”
“Organized his…what?” asked Hazel, confused.
“I thought you were a sailor,” the stranger replied as though the question had been rhetorical. “So I guess we’re in agreement then; Captain Flint does seem to have an odd way about him. I’m sure you understand why I was surprised by his behavior.”
He paused and waited patiently until Hazel nodded. Then he continued.
“When I met him first, he had already begun training his crew to read and write. The idea of teaching men to read and write had never crossed my mind.”
Hazel looked away from him and tried to process what he was saying.
“So, wait,” she said hesitantly. “Do you mean to tell me that this captain of yours…has men on his ship who are literate?”
The man smiled again.
“Of course I mean to tell you that,” he said. “Why would I even have been here if that wasn’t the case? But you must admit, such a thing is rather remarkable. I can’t help wondering what he was planning to do with these men once they were all literate. That is a question you may ask him yourself someday soon.”
Hazel looked down at the book in her hands and then up at him again.
“So, how did you end up here anyway?” she asked quietly.
“You’re probably curious about that too, aren’t you?” he replied. “After all, you must remember me. I was the one who brought that horrible man who attacked you to justice.”
He paused for a moment and then added, “You know, you remind me of someone else I met on this ship.”
“Who?”
He smiled again. “A young girl named Lucy.”
***
James sat in his bedroll beside Hazel. The fire was going well now, and they were warm inside the tent together. They lay close, their bodies tangled against one another, but he felt no need to rush anything with her yet. Instead, he simply listened to her breathing and watched the slow rise and fall of her chest.
When she finally slept, he turned over to stare at the stars outside the tent, trying to decide where their journey might lead them next.
There was so much he wanted to learn from this woman: who she was and why she was here with him. What secrets had she kept hidden all these years? Why had she left everything behind? Who was she really—and why did the sound of her voice always make him feel like a child again? And perhaps most importantly, was she even real?
It had taken him years to track her down after that fateful day in the woods, but every night since they’d reunited at sea he had woken up hoping that she might still be alive somewhere in this world. He had to believe she was real.
And if she was…what would she want from him? How could he possibly find out? He wondered if they would ever share another meal together, or would he only get a taste of her story here tonight? There was so much more he needed to know. But he would wait, he decided, until the morning light. He just didn’t have enough strength to keep going yet.
He sighed.
This life he had chosen was dangerous, and he knew better than anyone that the chances of him surviving his mission were slim. Even so, he was determined to try and survive as long as possible so that he would have a chance to discover the answers to these questions and others. After all, he had nothing to lose anymore.
***
In the dark hours before dawn, James awoke to find Hazel curled up next to him. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes adjusted and he looked into her face. She was still asleep, but her breathing was deep and regular. Her hair fanned out around her head in the windless air and she looked beautiful as ever in the soft glow of the firelight. The sight made his heart beat faster.
What if this is it? What if I never see her again? Is this goodbye?
But when she woke in a few minutes and saw him staring at her, he couldn’t hold back the smile that formed on his lips. She returned his grin and rolled toward him to kiss him lightly on the cheek.
“Good morning,” she whispered.
He reached a hand up to caress her cheek with his fingers. “Morning,” he replied. Then, without warning, he pulled her in hard for a kiss.
“Ahhh!” she said softly, startled awake.
They lay in each other’s arms as their breaths came out in little bursts of fog and then fell away completely. They held one another tightly, kissing slowly and gently, letting their lips explore each other’s mouths while they felt the heat and pressure build between their naked bodies.
Finally, Hazel gasped and pulled herself away from him. They sat back up on their elbows, staring at one another across the small space that separated them. For a moment she closed her eyes and then opened them wide and laughed. She took a few steps closer and kissed him again, lingering this time so that her tongue could slip inside his mouth.
Their hands roamed one another’s bodies, finding the smooth skin of their stomachs and chests, running their fingers through their hair, cupping their cheeks, and grasping their shoulders. Hazel broke the kiss with a gasp, then leaned forward and licked her fingertips and touched the side of his mouth with them.
She ran her finger along the line of his jaw, down over his neck, and then up to touch his lips with hers again.
“That tickles,” he said, reaching up to brush her fingertips with his own.
She giggled and moved closer to kiss him again, this time taking a firm grasp of his chin and guiding his mouth back to meet hers. This time there was no teasing—no hesitation—just raw, hungry desire.
Their tongues slid eagerly against each other, exploring one another’s mouths and then darting back and forth over their teeth, pressing in close together as they tasted and explored each other’s flesh.
When they finally parted from one another to breathe, they stared at each other for several moments, trying to take in as much of their lover’s body and face as they could while they were together.
“You smell good,” Hazel whispered.
“So do you,” James replied.
Hazel smiled at the compliment and leaned forward again to kiss him again, moving down his chest to nibble his navel, and then up to his neck. She traced her tongue along the hollow of his throat, and then kissed her way back up his collarbone to his chin and then to his lips once more. They shared a long, deep kiss as their bodies pressed together.
Hazel let out a loud moan as James lifted her in his arms and carried her to the blanket he had spread beneath a tree earlier in the evening. As he laid her down gently on top of the blanket, she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him close to her.
They kissed passionately again, and then Hazel sat up and straddled him so that he lay back in the grass. Her hair spilled out across the blanket, tickling both of them as she bent forward to press her lips against his neck. She moved her mouth from one side of his neck to the other, sucking and licking every inch of him until her lips met his ear.
“I want you inside me,” she whispered seductively into his ear, then stood and turned so that he could see her face. “Now.”
James reached up and stroked her cheek. “Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes. Now,” she insisted.
His cock throbbed in anticipation at the prospect of being inside her. He knew how sensitive she was after having been impaled by an arrow. If she had any doubts about whether or not she’d be able to take him, he didn’t have enough self-control to keep himself from pushing her onto all fours and thrusting right into her.
But he knew better than to rush it; instead, he helped her lie down in the middle of the blanket and lowered her hips carefully onto his hard length. As soon as she was ready, he pushed forward, burying himself deep inside her. Both of them cried out in pleasure as he filled her pussy to capacity, then began a slow, steady rhythm of thrusting that would last throughout the night.
The cool air and soft ground made sleep difficult to come by, and they kept waking up, unable to relax fully in the dark. It wasn’t until the early morning sun rose above the horizon that they both drifted off at the same time, and Hazel found herself lying next to James in a comfortable position with her head resting on his chest.
They stayed like that for what seemed like minutes before either of them stirred. Then Hazel opened her eyes just as James yawned. His arm was draped over her body, but when they turned to look at each other, their expressions were different than they had been when they went to bed: they’d become lovers again—the first time since she’d returned to England.
“What happened to you?” Hazel said with a smile. “You’ve really changed.”
“So has your country,” James replied. He rolled toward her and brought her hand to his lips, kissing it gently. “Do you think we’ll ever be able to go home again?”
Hazel took his face between her hands and looked him square in the eye. She had thought about it often since returning from North Carolina. She was glad that they were both alive, though she hadn’t expected that to happen, and she missed the land she grew up in very much.
But the idea of going back to England was something she wasn’t ready to consider just yet. She couldn’t imagine living anywhere but in the United States.
“We can’t know if there will be a future,” she said. “But I’m determined to make the best of what we have here and now.”
A wide grin spread across James’ face and he kissed her on the forehead. “And I am too, my dear.”
They continued to lie there quietly for several minutes, listening to birds chirping in the nearby trees and feeling the sun warm their skin. Then Hazel turned to James and said, “Will you be here tomorrow? We could go sailing again.”
He nodded and replied, “I will if you do.”
She leaned over and gave him another tender kiss on the lips. “Then it’s settled. And I will be waiting.”
The End