Zeelandia

9. Coming of Age

After I had been dismissed by Steward, I took my bowl and spoon from my quarters and walked forward again to the cookery to fetch breakfast. For the first two weeks, I had sat in the mess with the crew to take my meals, but as the weather warmed, I preferred to eat on deck. Unless it was raining or stormy.

With my bowl filled, I returned aft to my spot, leaning against the aftcastle in the nook at the base of the mizzenmast. For a long while, I stared at the oat porridge and the slab of ham, the piece of cheese and the slice of papaya atop it, thinking. Thinking about Steward's words. He yearns for children. But more for a fitting woman to bear them.

Would Captain find me fitting? I have no direct lineage, no clear pedigree. And now with Mother gone and Chris taking the estate, I have no worth. Well, not much. The groundskeeper's cottage and my small purse of guineas.

While I nibbled on the cheese, I pondered what Chris had said the day after we buried Mother. No man wants a woman who fears being touched. I realise now he still blames me for Mother's wrath and for her having sent him away.

He had brought it upon himself. I revelled in this realisation, then paused. But, do I fear being touched?

Would I allow Captain to touch me if he wished? I trembled at the thought, and as I held it in my mind, a tingling warmth filled me. Of course, I would allow him to. Even encourage him. Beg him, if needed.

But, would he want to touch me?

Then I recalled how Chris had been so intent on doing this. Is this desire normal with men? Does Captain have that same impulse?

Memories flashed through my mind. Why was Chris ignorant of my displeasure? Why had he persisted?

"Be ye asleep or eating?"

The voice startled me, and I looked up from my bowl at a young lad standing before me. Young to me but not to Boy. Maybe sixteen, with his voice cracking from man to boy and back. "I am thinking."

"About what?"

"About changes. About coming of age. I had watched the men washing yesterday, and that has set me to thinking about what boys become."

"I did that earlier in the year."

"Did what? Thought about it or changed?

"Changed, or began to. The changes don't come of an instant."

"How do they start?"

"First was the sore ballocks, but that stopped after they near doubled in size. And the tenderness of my chest buttons stopped too."

I nodded, thinking of my own tenderness during the changes.

He reddened, then shrugged. "But your father has told you about this."

"I was too young when he departed."

"Oh! I'm sorry for you." He remained silent for a long while, then he said, "I can tell you some of the things mine told me."

"Could you? I would welcome that."

He pointed to my breeches. "Don't worry about your pizzle not growing. Mine stayed wee for a long time before it started getting longer."

I nodded. "Longer, as I saw on the men yesterday?"

"As long as most, but not near as wide. My father said the thickness comes later." He looked around the area, then he stepped closer into the nook and unbuttoned his front to pull out a long, slender tail. About the size of my forefinger.

I watched as he began moving his hand back-and-forth along it.

"I can make it a lot bigger by doing this. And if I do it long enough, I can get cream to come out."

"Why would you want to do that?"

"Because it feels so good. My whole body quakes when it spurts out. The cream is what makes babies, and my father said the pleasure is God's reward for our wanting to do that."

"How does that make babies?"

"Women have a hole down here, and when a pizzle becomes stiff like this, it is inserted to squirt the cream into her womb."

His tail was now near twice as long, and I thought again to the stallions and the mares. Then I asked, "What age have you? I want to know when this will happen to me."

"Fifteen, but a bit closer to sixteen than that."

I remained seated as he stood before me, his tail pointing skyward close in front of my face while he continued stroking. I needed a diversion. "And, what is your duty aboard?"

"I'm a midshipman, training to be an officer. Last year, I was the captain's cabin boy, like you are now."

I nodded. "But for a different captain."

"Yes, and not near so nice as this one. You're lucky to be serving him."

"When did he leave?"

"The end of the summer. He had tired of the sea, and he sold the ship to our new captain." He paused and looked down. "See, now? It has gone limp again and shrank. To keep it stiff, it is necessary to concentrate."

"Thank you. I now have a better understanding of what to expect." I watched as he tucked it into his breeches and buttoned the front. "I appreciate your explaining these things for me."

"My pleasure." He chuckled and patted the crotch of his breeches. "Well, not fully this time. And what age are you?"

"Fourteen, but almost fifteen."

"You will soon see the changes begin, then. If you have any worries or questions, I would be pleased to answer them. You need only ask for Edwards the Mid."

"I will do that, Edwards. My name is Camille." I shrugged. "Mother's family was French."

Edwards was about to speak when he was called away by Master, and I watched the two for a while before I turned back to my breakfast and to my pondering. The porridge had now gone cold, the way I prefer it.

As I savoured a spoonful with a piece of papaya, I thought about what Edwards had said about the pleasure. About his whole body quaking. As mine had last night. I trembled at the memory, and my mind drifted to making Captain quake. And him me.