My Wild Man

An Introduction

I awoke to the screech of some jungle bird nearby. My eyes shot open and my body jolted in surprise. I began to comprehend my surroundings- the dead logs of the fire, the odd paintings on the far wall, the light warming the dense, humid air around my exposed shoulders, the weight of the furs atop my torso. The air was heavy with the scent of salty ocean water. I sat up, a small burst of adrenaline speeding my heartbeat and causing an uneasy tension to settle on me. I glanced around the cave for any sign of the wild man but to no avail. He had left his spot curled up behind me and was nowhere to be seen.

Honestly, I wasn't too upset about that. The memories of our sleepy escapade flickered through my mind, each moment more agonizingly embarrassing than the last. "How could I have done that?" I whispered into my hands, hiding my face from the world. I groaned and tried my best to force the memories from replaying in my head. Folded the furs neatly before using the cave wall to help me up on my shaky legs. I felt the muscles in my hips ache from how hard I'd pushed them last night... "I've never been that forward in my life. How could I have done that?!" My flushed cheeks welcomed the blowing breeze as I stepped out into the jungle. In doing so, I realized that the sky was dark and the wind whipped at the foliage so hard that leaves were pulled from their trees and led into a spiraling, twisted dance through the air. I glanced around nervously for Tarzan, but didn't spot his well-built form anywhere. I felt guilty about leaving without saying goodbye, but the fact that I'm leaving my books behind should reassure him that I would return.

I left in the direction of the beach, squinting my eyes against the unrelenting wind barraging me. The hundreds of thousands of rustling leaves mimicked the sound of ocean waves crashing upon rocks. I clutched at my button-up shirt as the wind threatened to rip it off of me. Every thought somehow led to Tarzan. To what we had done the night before. And... to other things. Things we had not done. So why did they run rampant in my mind? I hated the logical reason. Perhaps... these were things I wished had happened...

"Ugh!" I shook my head, feeling my face heat up yet again. I was more than a little appalled at myself. "What would Mother think?" I asked aloud, though my own voice barely reached my ears through the brewing storm. "How can I face Father upon his return? If he didn't already dislike me, this most certainly will destroy any remaining hope he has of making me his perfect heir."

A sudden crack of thunder resounded overhead, causing me to jump nearly out of my skin. The flash of lightning that followed immediately after lit up the world a brilliant white momentarily. I continued on hurriedly to the beach until I reached the edge of the jungle behind my tent. The Captain barked orders left and right to sailors who raced to secure the two completed wooden shacks or to bury the food supply and ammunition in the sand near the central firepit. The first drops of rain began to pitter-patter around me, heavy like little stones. I peered through the flap of my tent for anyone before slipping through the side, providing a small amount of relief from the wind made even stronger on the beach. The tent rang like a hollow drum with each massive gust. I thought to first search for my duffel bag of books to bury safely, but could not see them anywhere. Then I realized nothing of value was left in this tent at all- the cot, the desk, the extra blankets had all been removed.

Just as another deafening crack of thunder rang in my ears, the front of the tent was thrown aside to reveal the silhouette of my father, an intimidating black mass against the white of lightning behind him. His eyes set on me with confusion, as though he hadn't expected me to be there. "To the shack, boy!" he commanded over the rolling thunder and the slapping of waves against the nearby rocks. He pulled me by my wrist and threw me out the front of the tent before dismantling it in several swift movements. He pushed me ahead of him with one hand on my shoulder, the other gripping the fabric tightly under his arm. Now I could see clearly the sky over the sea- clouded, dark, turbulent, disquieted. Just like the night we'd arrived here, just over a week ago. I didn't have long to sink back into those unpleasant and scarring memories, though, before we reached the closest of the two huts and he slammed the door behind us. We would have been in total darkness were it not for their quick construction- several cracks all around the room allowed the little light from outside to pierce through, along with small drafts of wind and the occasional raindrop from above. It was roughly three meters all around, and nearly wall-to-wall full of crewmen. Three beams supported the roof down the center of the shack, and also two hammocks on either side, creating 12 hanging beds and allowing for more space. Beneath the hammocks were the cots from the tents, set shoulder to shoulder on the ground. Only this first meter was left open for easy access to the door. While I felt my heartbeat pounding in my chest, most of the men seemed quite relaxed. Many were already asleep in their cots or hammocks. One group played cards in the corner, huddled around close to see clearly. Well, as sailors, I suppose they've become quite used to this environment.