Treasure of the sea |Lesbian story|

From the diary of Delise Shelley

Everett got sick one day in late March. I paid him a doctor with all the money I had saved working at the Lowel inn. The doctor examined Everett most scrupulously. He checked his lungs and throat and told me he had pneumonia. He gave him some medicine, but I could see by his expression that there was not much to be done.

"How can I help him?" I had asked him.

"Pray for him. The Lord is the only one who can help him now."

I bent down beside my brother. His eyelids were half-closed and his skin was sickly. When his eyes met mine, he stretched his lips into a brief smile. I grabbed his sweaty hand and placed it on my cheek. I was crying. My tears slipped down to his fingers and he became serious again at seeing me so sad. His breath was heavy and warm, tickling my ear. We stayed like that for a long time.

"Don't be afraid, Everett," I told him. "Do you remember that beautiful fish you once managed to catch? It was small, but brightly coloured. You were so proud of yourself when you decided to set him free and let him live. Think of how he's swimming now! Happy and carefree in the waves. Can you imagine? Think of the sea, Everett. Think how it gurgles as it swirls around your feet, tickling your toes, and crashes noisily to the shore and bathes your face with those gentle splashes. And it's so clear that you want to drink its water even though you know it's salty. It's strong, very strong. It comes up in big waves and makes the boats rumble. It is dark and grey and rough and can make you tremble with fear. The roar of its waves is so loud that it deafens you, and they are capable of tossing a ship here and there, without respite. It can be frightening, but you accept it, because to truly love it you must accept all its nuances. But you know that, don't you?"

I continued like this, whispering images to him until morning.

At one point, I saw his vacant eyes turned towards me, staring lifelessly.

"Everett..." I whispered, softly, calling to him. I shook him several times, but his eyes did not come back to life, nor did they move towards me.

I let out a cry of pain and Mr. and Mrs. Lowel heard it. They threw open the door and poured in. The man tried to pull me away from the child, but I held him tightly in my arms, screaming.

"Come away," said Mrs. Lowel.

Mr. Lowel grabbed me by the arms and dragged me to the kitchen. My scream dispersed throughout the house until it reached outside.

My brother died that day and my father didn't find out until a few months later in a letter I had sent him. When he arrived, he was horrified to see me so thin and wasted. We didn't talk much; I refused to talk to anyone. We sat on a wooden plank in a noisy tavern. Silence fell between us, neither of us wanting to say anything. After we ate some bread and cheese, I lifted my head and laid my eyes on him.

"I want to leave with you, father," I announced.

"What are you talking about?"

"I can cut my hair, I can disguise myself."

"You're crazy."

"Please. I'll do everything I can to make you proud of me."

"No way. If you were discovered... What you ask is very dangerous." He shuddered.

That night I holed up in my room and did what had to be done. I had scrounged some scissors from the kitchen. I sat down on the floor and looked at the long, raven hair that flowed down my shoulders. I didn't linger for a second. I cut, without even pausing to contemplate my handiwork. I could feel the hair sliding down my back until it fell to the cold floor. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw a very short black mop that made me look very funny. I touched my head with my fingers, fascinated. Some strands were so short they stood up straight as pins. Then, I hurried to unfasten my skirt and, for the first time in my life, I put on some trousers, my brother's trousers. I bind my breasts; I squeezed hard, until my chest was flat enough to look like a man's. I groaned. It hurt. I looked in the mirror and almost didn't recognize myself. I looked like a young boy of thirteen or so. I watched myself for a long time, trying to get used to my new appearance.

"Go find another place," my father growled, when I sat down at his table the next morning.

"No."

"You got a problem with me, boy?"

"You really don't recognize me?"

He stared at me with his mouth wide open, his eyes growing wider and wider. The silence stretched on and I felt vulnerable under that gaze.

"What the hell did you do to your hair?"

"Father, you didn't recognize me! If you couldn't, then I can very well fool everyone!"

"Delise," he admonished me. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Get me out of here," I begged. "I will not displease you, I will do whatever they order me to do."

"Where did you find the clothes?"

"They were Everett's."

Then he sighed and lowered his gaze to his pint of ale. "I'm going to regret this..."

I felt a sliver of hope with that answer. I lifted my eyes to his and smiled.

"Do you still think I work for the British Navy?" he asked.

I burst out laughing in his face. "Father, do you think me so stupid? You're a pirate, I've known that for a long time. Perhaps, I've always known it."

"You must realize that if you follow me you will become one too, Del."

"I know."