An Officer but No Gentleman(5)

“You all right, Charlie?” Morty asked.

When Charlie didn’t get up on his own, Morty straddled his fallen friend’s hips, reached his hands under his arms to his chest and heaved him to his feet. But as he stood behind Charlie, his palms on his chest, Morty felt a swell of bound breasts under his hands. He squeezed clumsily and didn’t miss Charlie’s gasp.

“Morty, if you don’t get your hands off me, I’m going to unman you with the heel of my boot.”

Morty’s hands returned to own thighs so quickly, they made a slapping sound on impact, but he hesitantly raised them and turned Charlie toward him. Charlie, still breathing hard, was too exhausted from the brawl to attempt resistance.

As the crowd of men around them recapped their favorite moments of the fight no one noticed the tableau before them.

“Charlie, are you a maiden?”

“Don’t be daft, Morty. You just felt my scars. Why do you think I won’t take off my shirt,” she said.

Charlie reached in her pocket, pulled out a twenty dollar gold piece and threw it to the proprietor, too distracted to realize the damages to his place were nowhere near that bad. She turned on her heel and strode out of the tavern leaving Morty to find his own way back to the ship.





2





As soon as her feet on the deck, Charlie found herself nearly running to her cabin. Immediately upon entering, she locked the door. The knowledge that Morty had stumbled onto her secret scared her more than the fight when she realized she was in over her head—she’d never intended to fight three men at once, but she didn’t realize the man she’d targeted was not there alone.

Morty might not be the smartest man, but she knew he wouldn’t believe her lie. She could only hope in his drunken state, by morning, he would forget it all.

Charlie poured herself a brandy and downed it quickly then poured another, but did not pick it up. After double checking the lock, she began divesting herself outer clothing.

Damn, her back hurt. She didn’t need to look to know the blow left a mark. At least that was one thing she could probably keep her father from finding out. She excelled in hiding her pain. But this other thing with Morty, how could she possibly hide that? She knew she should wake her father and tell him what happened. This was not a matter that should wait. And yet, she knew Morty would be put off the ship before they sailed and she couldn’t stand the thought of losing her best friend.

Some blower she was.

They had been friends for nine years. She was thirteen and had just passed the test to be an able seaman and he was seventeen, straight from the farm and aboard a ship for the first time. She noticed him immediately when he boarded carrying a tattered sea chest that was probably older than him. Morty was the proverbial farm boy, tall, good looking, strong as an ox, and a bit of a hayseed. Morty didn’t pick up new tasks quickly and because he wasn’t carrying his weight, the crew rode his ass endlessly. Charlie felt sorry for big oaf. Being the captain’s son and being so much younger than everyone else had kept her ostracized her whole life so she took pity on him and began working with him when she had time. It must have taken over an hour of repetition to teach him a simple bowline knot. But their friendship benefitted Charlie more than it ever benefitted Morty. He was her first and most loyal friend.

Surely, even a blockhead like Morty would understand he couldn’t tell anyone.

With the doctor and her father, the trouble had been in the pronouns at first. It’s hard to know that someone is one sex and use the other gender’s pronoun. Even when dealing privately with each other they always referred to Charlie as he because if they called her she in private, they were more likely to slip at other times. For the sake of the lie, it had been a good thing that Charlie hadn’t spoken for more than two years after the fire. It was probably the only reason they had been able to get away with telling everyone she was a boy. By the time she did start talking again, she was used to it and at times, when she was still small, she really wasn’t sure if she was a boy or girl.

Maybe, just maybe, if she pretended nothing had changed, Morty would think he had dreamt the whole thing. In the morning, she would continue to pretend to be male just like every other day of her life. Morty was so drunk; he would probably doubt his memories if she acted like nothing had changed. Eventually, he would confront her and she would just laugh in his face and make him think he was crazy.



Charlie still felt a little drunk at 4:00 AM when her shift started. Morty appeared highly inebriated. They were preparing to set sail with the tide and although most of the preparation had been completed, there was still ample work to keep everyone busy. Charlie knew Morty was a danger to himself if he went into the riggings so she put him to work stowing a last minute delivery. After he moved all the crates and barrels into the hold, Charlie did not see him again until they were underway. When he reemerged an hour later, the crew was swabbing the deck and he picked up a mop without instruction and joined the others. Charlie climbed down in the hold to check that the cargo was properly stowed and secured. Most of Morty’s knots were messy or loose. She re-tied them then locked the hold and returned to the deck.