If the Purser could not stand the sight of Richard’s bare flesh, Fifth Officer Samuel Smyth could. As the youngest son of a well-todo landowner, he had no chance of a significant heritage and his father had paid for his passage and commission aboard Subtile. The inference was clear: make your own way in life. Smyth was a gangly young man awkward in movement, and a large hooked nose ensured that ladies looked elsewhere. That did not concern Smyth; his passion was young boys, an affliction that had caused him to be expelled from boarding school. Smyth’s pale white skin contrasted with his jet-black mop of hair.
Richard’s skin had tanned to a golden brown and his hair had bleached as Subtile headed south into warmer waters. His body had filled out and muscled due to the hard and varied work. Richard had first noticed that Smyth had taken the nearest bunk to his even though others more conveniently placed had been available. As the temperature rose in the airless cabin Richard had taken to wearing shorts only, but soon became aware and uneasy at Smyth’s unconcealed scrutiny.
Richard awoke thinking that he had had a wet dream – but he felt a hand withdraw from his genitals and heard the nearest bunk squeak from the weight of a body. His heart raced for more than one reason as he weighed up the problem and possible solutions. Firstly, Smyth was his senior and could cause him major inconveniences; secondly he could report the matter to First Officer Jamie but life on a ship was not unlike boarding school: one did not tell tales and thirdly, no real harm had been done to him – it was what could follow that terrified him. He decided to handle the problem himself. At the end of his next watch, when Smyth lay almost naked on his bunk, Richard stripped naked before entering his bunk to rest. He heard a sharp intake of breath from Smyth. Turning, he faced the heavily breathing Smyth and corded a razor sharp but sheathed knife over his privates: the inference was clear.
“Oh, you might think you are being smart, “sneered Smyth, “but I will have you one way or the other. You can start by cleaning this cabin, and when you are finished you will wash my clothes on deck where the crew can see you.” Richard grimly redressed and began his extra duties. Over the next weeks the extra duties began taking a toll on Richard: he neglected his studies, caused the Purser to berate him for inkblots and the Captain to comment on his clumsiness. The Gunnery Officer, tied up in training, failed to notice the difference in Richard, but the good doctor did.
“What is the problem, Master Dick? You seem distracted and listless; is there anything I can prescribe?” Richard bit his lip and shook his head – but the word ‘prescribe’ gave him an idea. When he had finished his duties and the doctor was scratching in his diary, Richard covertly gathered together some ointments and chemicals that smelled like rotten eggs. He was careful that the concoction did not aggravate the skin. He corked it into a small flask and concealed it in his shorts.
“You may go now, Master Dick, and I suggest you take more sleep – by the way, what is that God-awful stink?” Richard hurried out to scrape some shit off the crew’s voiding rail.
That night he stripped off his pants, facing away from Smyth, and applied the foul concoction.
“It is about time you saw the light, my darling. Come here,” ordered Smyth. Richard turned to face his tormenter, the greenish yellow puss like cream dripping from his penis and the smell wafting towards Smyth. “Jesus’ breath, what is that foul liquid dripping from your prick?” Smyth’s voice rose an octave. “Oh, just a little discharge I get on occasions after I fucked a whore in Tilbury. The doctor tells me the amount of mercury I need to cure it would kill me and that it is very contagious, but do not worry, it comes and goes. Right now it is coming,” said Richard nonchalantly.
“You filthy little beast!” screamed Smyth, “go topside this instant and clean yourself.” Smyth began to gag. Richard concealed a smile and followed orders. When he returned to the cabin, Smyth and his personal gear had gone. Richard shifted into Smyth’s bunk just in case he decided to return.
Jamie listened to Smyth’s request to shift into a small cabin hardly larger than a cupboard next to the chart room. Smyth’s excuse that he wanted to be nearer to his work sounded decidedly thin but Jamie granted the request anyway. It would be Smyth who worked extra shifts in the future. That evening one of the junior officers approached Richard.
“I do not know what you did or how you did it, but you have rid us of that fawning freak; well done lad.” Richard was pleased at the new look of respect from the ratings, and even more pleased when he found that one of the younger ratings had taken to cleaning Smyth’s cabin.