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Lieutenant Le Vesconte bowed his head with a slight, good-natured sneer, glancing at Commander Fitzjames' grim face, ’Come on, old chap! Such despondency does not suit you, much less is it a sin.’They were sitting on the bunk in James's cabin, sipping red wine from the bottle they were passing to each other now and then.‘Is it for you to quibble about sin, Dundy?’ the superior officer snapped.It was a delicate subject for anyone to speculate on, but not the daredevil Le Vesconte.And he dares to make innuendos.... Hasn't he gone insolent already?But the lieutenant was not embarrassed, and he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, ‘It's just that, mate, you've been a pain to look at lately. A smile would brighten up your face.’‘Well, what am I going to do, draw it for you?’ the commander bristled.Le Vesconte spread his arms wide, assuming a mischievous, relaxed pose, and cast a very, even overly, expressive glance at his friend.‘And you know, James, your thoughts are moving in the right direction. Drawing could help you, I think. It's a wonderful way of calming the nervousness. Although it does sometimes increase the excitement - inspiration and the accompanying emotions, that sort of stuff - but isn't it a good thing that creativity helps you to let your feelings out? As a result, if you can, you can experience the precious upheaval that the Greeks called catharsis,’ the lieutenant finished his little lecture or homily.The commander could not help but laugh, shaking his shiny chestnut curls and crossing his arms over his chest so that his broad shoulders rose like eagle's wings.As frivolous as Henry Le Vesconte was, he couldn't be called dumb. Considering the time they had spent in the East, the adventures they had had together, and the knowledge they had gained of the peoples and their customs, several statements were appropriate.Le Vesconte was fascinated by the mastery of Oriental circumlocutions and rhetorical games.Le Vesconte knew James well and could find the right words for him.Finally, Le Vesconte knew exactly what was tormenting his commanding officer and mate at the same time.Fitzjames loved and suffered.And this despite the fact that he wrote to his cousin, Elizabeth Conningham, that he had no plans to marry.The fact is that the commander was head over heels in love with the chief of the expedition, Sir John Franklin.It was an unenviable situation for a number of reasons.Sir John was obviously an ordinary, most normal man with normal proclivities; he had been widowed before, was in his second marriage, was faithful to his wife, and had a young daughter.Besides, the captain was a very pious, deeply religious man - and how offended he would have been at the display of indecent attention to him!...And he was not a young man at all.He had never been of a passionate temperament, and even in his earlier years he had no particular interest in carnal pleasures.But at the same time he was incredibly affectionate, with all the force of a burning innocence.He hugged James, took him by the arm, put his fingers on his elbow, patted him lightly on the back, and kissed him on the cheeks at morning greetings, in that slightly funny, old man way of protruding his lips and smacking James's cheeks.Though it was also a habit of his - he reinforced almost every interaction he had with people by touching them: even the shoulder of a simple sailor he could touch encouragingly, then retreat a couple of steps and pronounce the order in his usual measured, strict tone.So he managed to keep a strange balance, and people said that Franklin was very friendly, he was like a father to everyone, but at the same time he did not allow familiarity.And could it be possible to allow it, looking at such a proud large stature and this royally noble face?He should have been worshiped and anyone should feel blessed to be addressed by him.And he had told James more than once, when he was in a particularly warm and open mood, that he saw James as his son, and called him ‘my boy’. And again how much had to be taken into account.The difference in years and position already made it scandalous, and this - this?Reminiscent of what, incest?James had heard some things about his father, about his dubious adventures.He feared that the Admiralty might get wind of anything that might ruin his career, he despised that man with every fibre of his being - but he still longed for a father's love, longed for someone who could give him a shoulder to lean on, to caress him - and Sir John Franklin had become that person.But James's feelings went far beyond those of a son.How should he have restrained his flesh? Would there be whips on the Erebus so that he could repeat the path of the flagellant monks?To ravage the muscles of his own powerful, battle-hardened back with bloody grazes and wounds to humble his senses?And would Sir John approve of that?Not at all.‘Jimmy, Jimmy, have another drink. We'll sit and joke some more. You'll go to bed and feel better. Will you?’Fitzjames twitched. The lieutenant put his hand on the man's shoulder and offered him a bottle.How hurtful it was to see, too, that Henry knew him like the back of his hand, to discerning exactly what was eating him.‘You, my dear, are too self-flattering. You shouldn't look at me with such a sour face, no offence. I haven't offered you a cure-all, but it's not bad. Painting a picture is not as quick and easy as getting drunk to the point of insanity - that's not welcome on Erebus, everyone knows that - or satisfying the call of the flesh with someone you want - that's even less so. But why not catharsis, why not aesthetics?’ looked Dundee dreamily.Fitzjames gave him a wistful but understanding look. His friend had a point, after all; he could not be denied insight.‘Will you share your masterpieces with me, if anything?’‘Go to hell, Dundy.’‘Oh-ho-ho, that's what I expected to hear! But still?’Le Vesconte got even closer than James would have liked and would have been in keeping with the notion of friendliness.‘You're a notable rascal. You don't understand how I feel,’ James muttered.The commander had gone all droopy, and the epaulettes dangled from his shoulders, their fringe looking like cheap tinsel.‘Yes, dear, I'll make a Socratic joke - I understand that I don't,’ Le Vesconte dutifully replied, seating himself yet closer. ‘It's different from what we're used to.’The lieutenant was remarkably easygoing and bold, ignoring some of Fitzjames's deeper feelings, but it was for this that James was so grateful to Dundy.They practised their physical pleasures and shared their delights with relish afterwards - but they did not ascribe any hidden meaning to those pleasures, only the appreciation that only comrades in arms could have.Now Le Vesconte realised that it would be inappropriate to offer his services to ease the tension, though that was exactly what he would have liked to do. He never ceased to find James charming and attractive.And James possessed a new beauty, not in his dashing, brave, but in his mournful state.And he could only be sympathised with, perhaps. In one respect Dundy agreed with James: it was insulting to see how cordially Captain Franklin treated Captain Crozier.He had made a great effort, it seemed, to get out of his skin, and yet he had suddenly responded to Sir John's humiliating efforts to make friends with him since the wintering at Beachy Island.It was not known what had turned the low-bred Irishman's mind, but Sir John must have been pleased. He had always received him so politely and cordially on the ship, listening attentively to his most pessimistic ideas, nodding gravely and anxiously, thinking up the darkest scenarios, and making furtive signs to James to keep him on his toes.‘I hate to think of such an outcome,’ Fitzjames said.‘I can see why,’ Levecount said with a nod, earnestly.Certainly not because James would have protested at the prospect of pulling the boats on his own; that athlete would have had to be discouraged from over-exerting himself.James only seldom allowed himself to mope, and always of late he was angry, fierce, ardent, his dark eyes sparkling - and the most charming thing about him was the way his battle anger mingled with merriment and fire when he roused himself and threw himself into his work, and there he became even more industrious than Crozier - the two of them could have competed to see who was the bigger cerberus on his ship.But now the heart of this romantic soldier was pierced through: relatively recently he had ventured to confess his feelings to Sir John.To say that the commander was mortified and crushed would be an understatement - for a moment it seemed to James that the captain was about to stand up and throw him out of his cabin, or push him against the wall, slap him, yell at him, spit at him....And that would be fine.James had long ago noticed how rosy, inviting Sir John's lips were - firm, masculine in shape, but so obviously soft....Let him be spat upon by such a delightful mouth.He was almost flattered at the prospect of Franklin hitting him, or at least slapping him.Sir John was so burly and stately. His predictable softness was clearly matched by his muscular strength, and his regal appearance was mesmerising.It seemed to James that some features that were not considered conventionally handsome, that were perhaps even somewhat amusing, did not detract from Sir John's dignity - they filled his other qualities and appearance with an even greater radiance and warmth that....Ah, James was ready to almost growl in annoyance at the way passion and tenderness mingled in him when he thought of those features.And - damn that Le Vesconte He'd noticed that James was daydreaming now, too - Henry was sitting there, chuckling.‘I suppose you're sketching in your head already?’ he asked languidly.‘I wish my eyes had never seen you, Henry.’‘The maestro is angry. But I am obviously right, which is why I am the cause of such annoyance.’Levecount smiled without rancour and ruffled his early-greying but thick, silky hair. His hair reminded him of James's legendary namesake, Ross the Younger, who had been the most handsome man in the Royal Navy - and had once been rumoured to have been on very close terms with Francis Crozier. What did he find in that Banbridge hillbilly?But he did find something. Something beyond his scientific achievements in magnetic measurements and calculations, and his reports to the Admiralty.And Sir John might have found it too, perhaps, with his kindness and... need for affection? He did have a need for affection, and it was not for nothing that he was so drawn to people and craved recognition and acceptance in return. Why not Crozier, after all..... How Sir John had tried to please and cheer him up during that wintering! It tormented James more than anything else. He found it so humiliating that the analogies he drew were the most lewd, as if a noble but naive gentleman were chasing a dubious young lady. And what kind of ‘young lady’ was there? Ugly as sin, and having a nasty character. Ugh!Meanwhile, it was time to return to reality, and James threatened, ‘Look, Dundee, you'll be sorry if I sketch you too.’‘Why should I be embarrassed?’‘You can't be embarrassed about anything.‘Why, I'm quite content with my looks and build, you've had a chance to appreciate that,’ said Levecount, teasingly. ‘Only I suppose the object of your nature will be someone else anyway.’‘Yes,’ James responded defiantly. ‘You're right about that.’‘Crozier, am I right?’ chuckled Dundee.‘I'm going to get you now!’James rushed over and punched Henry in the shoulder, half hard, but Dundy still fell to the bunk, but then, chuckling, jumped to his feet and parried his opponent, but his fist was intercepted.‘Oh, you don't forget your martial arts skills!’‘Some things aren't so easy to forget,’ James grinned. ‘And it's not so simple to master the habits of the body.’‘It shows.’Le Vesconte cast an eloquent glance at the commander's trousers, at his groin.‘I'm calm, actually. And you'd like to tease me.’‘Sometimes, yes, I do. You're a handsome man, aren't you? Well, aren't we mates? There's something special about you now, though. But you're also excited about the prospect of punching me in the face, aren't you?’‘Do without. Without all the things you might have expected, mate. Not about your honour.’‘Sir John's honour, it turns out, is what's at stake.’‘Fuck you!’‘Ah-ha-ha-ha, are you angry again, commander? How in love are you with our old man Franklin...’He didn't seem particularly worried when Fitzjames gave him a playful slap, but it was a tangible one, so much so that Levecount rubbed his face and sighed feignedly:‘Oh, how angry you are! Why don't you fuck me as punishment? Seriously, James, are you okay with it? I don't mind!’‘Yeah I've already got it!’ James retorted fiercely. ‘And I've said it all. And don't be cheeky - don't you dare call Sir John such a vulgar name. He's a hero, by the way. You - come on, we - have yet to earn that title...’‘Halt, just a moment!’ Dundy exclaimed, and the grin came off his face.He was probably offended by this neglect of the adventures they had shared in the hot countries. But it was hard to compare it with the deeds of one who had spent most of his life in the far north.‘Hold your tongue anyway - unless you want to quarrel with me,’ James said in a deliberately icy tone.Levecount stretched like the tame cheetah they'd had on the Clio and sighed: ‘You've had a bad time with the wine today, love, you've got a bit of a temper. Maybe I'd better go. And you can do some drawing and, ahem, take the pressure off?’ he winked.James had fair skin of an even pleasant tone - but apparently some hints of swarthiness had crept in anyway, because he didn't blush as easily as the same red-haired devil Crozier did. Now, however, the Commander felt the blood must have rushed visibly to his cheeks.And not just to them.‘Get out of here, Dundy, seriously. You've rightly pointed out that I'm in a bad mood.’James frantically grabbed a sketchbook out of his desk drawer and shielded himself with it.‘I dare not disturb you any further,’ Le Vesconte said conspiratorially, nimbly scrambled up from the bunk and slid to the door with theatrical grace.Now there's a saintly man. His temper is gold, tolerating James even when he's insufferable.‘Will you show me what you've got?’‘We'll see.’With that, Commander Fitzjames hurried to usher Lieutenant Le Vesconte out, and then he flung the sketchbook on the table, absent-mindedly took his pencils out of the drawer, and sat down sprawlingly in the chair that creaked beneath him, with a disheartened and puzzled sigh.
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His hands froze over the white sheet. Fitzjames longed to capture the features of his beloved leader, but was afraid to defile them with imperfect skills. After all, he had not studied to be an artist. To depict a comical incident of flipping over in his kayak, to draw an unprecedented fish with human hands, to sketch a magnetic measurement hut in the corner of a letter to Captain Sabine was one thing, but to honour Sir John with real art was another.‘So.’James drew axial lines with a thrill, sketching the location of Franklin's profile and shoulders on the sheet.But the work seemed to be proceeding briskly.The drawing was now ready, still pale and faint - not to be spoilt by more expressive strokes.James made each of them as if he were cutting into a living person. Maybe Dr Stanley would have laughed at him. A grim fellow, but devout and friendly in his own way. And he's got, like, a family. And his daughter loves birds and draws them all the time. And the doctor himself doodles, but he doesn't show his creations to anyone. Shouldn't James visit the honourable doctor who saved him in China? He is a little too sullen and dry, but he deserves some attention...So James was thinking optimistically, scribbling passionately on the paper with his pencil.Sir John's first sketches would probably have pleased only Crozier, for the captain of the Erebus looked almost ridiculous. Still, some of the features should not have been so heavily emphasized, nor could the shading improve the state of things.In annoyance, Fitzjames crumpled the sheet and threw it into the wastepaper basket.‘I mean, he's good-looking, how could I have messed up so badly!’.Perhaps he should have put in a little more neatness, tenderness, and endeavour.Oh, Sir John deserved all the tenderness and endeavour in the world. James had tried to prove it to him on many occasions, though he could only do so in the service field. And now, moreover, he was trying to please himself and only himself, not the commander....But James would have wanted to make him feel good.He would have dreamed of it, of course.But the desire to fall down to the feet of his beloved mentor, to embrace him and persuade him to indulge in caresses was seen as indecent - Franklin himself had firmly declared that the commander's feelings were inappropriate.James would burn with shame if even his most chaste drawings - and would there be others? - had to be shown to the honourable chief of the expedition.Maybe that's what he should have relied on - that privacy is preserved in inconsolation?And there was no need to share anything with Dundy, he said so himself, cutting the lieutenant off at once.Le Vesconte got a little too enthusiastic today, but he had a good reason for it, for James had his masterpiece, a portrait of Sir John, filigreed for the Christmas exhibition - what had come over the commander that had managed to maintain decorum and produce a kind of jewel that now made him bite his lip at his inability to repeat it?Though was he so unable to do that?It was worth a try. For the thousandth first time, something good would definitely come out.James didn't notice that he'd jammed the lead of his pencil too hard into the sheet, lost in thought - and the graphite crunched, shattering into tiny splinters. ‘What a fool.’With a hiss, James found his penknife and began sharpening the pencil again. The main thing was not to cut his finger.‘It's okay, it's okay, remember sharpening a sabre or loading a gun.’And who would he intend to hit with his present weapon? Would it be Sir John's heart as if the pencil were Cupid's arrow?James almost swore at the dubious comparisons that came into his head as soon as he loosened his concentration.He'd sharpened his tool enough that he could have killed someone with it, especially if he'd used it in the Oriental wrestling match he'd recently had with the Dundy half-jokingly.But no. It was time for calm and endearment, albeit indirect.James closed his eyes and inhaled deeply several times - also recalling what he had learnt about such practices from the Chinese - and tried to empty his mind so that it would be filled with inspiration and pure, loving joy.
He had been poring over the new drawing for a long time. He even asked the steward, Mr Hore, to fetch another candle.He tried not to distort the proportions and to capture the cheerful expression on Franklin's face that made him so well liked, all that characteristic touch: the smirk of the kind eyes with somewhat drooping eyelids and the rays of wrinkles spreading from the corners of the eyes, the stroke of the bushy eyebrows, the tone of the iris, where darkness mingled with a surprising transparency, the pupils with their feline-like lustre and depth, his soft cheeks, those interesting ears, which Franklin himself disliked for no reason and constantly tried to cover them up with thick strands of hair.And the hair, in turn, also deserved special attention - James liked to draw and stump them, adding the desired softness to its texture - ah... James rubbed down the darker areas with an eraser, giving Franklin's hair a lustrous sheen and, yes, a lovely grey that still showed through here and there, just a tinge, an exquisite glow.Fitzjames realised that the head of the expedition did not like to talk about his age, but this very fact - it must be admitted - charmed him among other things very much. And James tried not to draw out all the lines that gave away the age, not too deeply, but not too weightlessly either.‘What if... not depict the tunic and epaulettes, just the white waistcoat and the shirt... and undo the top button?" James thought and swallowed.Oh yes, he would give a lot to kiss, to lick every fold of that softest flabby neck, sometimes seeming to overflow the stiff collars - something that might have disgusted someone else, James found madly fascinating, like it was setting him on fire from the inside.The Commander found himself squirming suspiciously and nervously, almost obscenely, in his chair. He didn't need to listen to his own sensations to immediately note the coming arousal.Not this! Not when focus and diligence were required. And anyway, it must be wretched to get excited looking at the portrait of the commander. There was something vulgar about it.Stop.But wasn't that why Dundy had been so eager to tell him that drawing could relieve tension? Given that James was familiar with Lieutenant Le Vesconte's style of thinking, he could not guess otherwise.Also, to indulge in purely abstract, imaginative fantasies and find relief through them - was that more chaste? Or more respectful? Or, to put it in Sir John's style, less sinful?Sometimes comfort and bliss came from innocent images, such as when James imagined Franklin stroking his head and playing with his hair, and the fact that he had never done so only made the whole sensation more poignant.But he had to admit to himself: how many times had James imagined kneeling in front of Sir John, gently pulling down his trousers and taking him in his mouth?Exactly, quite often.And trying to imagine what his beloved mentor tasted and smelt like. When Sir John embraced him, he smelled pleasantly of tea, old paper, expensive tobacco, cleaned wool of uniform cloth, some kind of a powder, and a little bit of bread or biscuits. Aha, and what is the flavour of those more private parts...?Such musings could drive James to a frenzy.But they were still secret, unknown to anyone, and by painting the desired captain on a piece of paper, James was giving his reverie a definite form, making it partly tangible and making himself vulnerable.However, it was nonsense to show such artwork to anyone. James would draw purely for his own pleasure. Well, but keeping the drawings out of sight and only occasionally taking them out and enjoying them - isn't that the beauty of it? This would be a kind of special intimacy.Even a partial appropriation.While James was musing, building a whole philosophy around his new and not quite usual hobby, his excitement in its physical manifestation had subsided, which was both helpful and a little frustrating. The Commander finally decided to take the matter to its logical conclusion and said to himself in his mind, ‘Yeah, that's right! To hell with the tunic!’.For the next pleasant minutes James was drawing and, savouring his own audacity, seemed to caress Sir John's delicate, touching neck.Oh, yes, it would be wonderful to touch it.Unconsciously, James slowed down, stopped in a kind of prostration and, staring blankly at the finished drawing, was groping himself, slowly but firmly, as if he wanted to wipe something off the fabric of his trousers.Oh no, not yet, not yet!He wanted to prolong the pleasure. He imagined what Sir John's neck would look like without the goddamn starched collar and the black tie, but what if he imagined what was lower down?James sighed languidly: he really wanted to know what his precious commander looked like without his clothes on - and he noted how vague some of his fantasies had been before, but he wanted specifics.Like, say, how thick is Sir John's chest hair, is it curly? And how stiff? Well, he wanted to think not very much.And what were his breasts like? They must be saggy - James wished he could put his finger under them, lift them a little, feel their suppleness in the palm of his hand...Oh, he wished he could kiss them.And the nipples? Small or big? Brownish or pinkish? Neat or blurred?So many questions!James would meditate on every birthmark. Here was also something to think about....‘Oh, I've been there. I'm drawing!’ James decided feverishly. Now the main thing was not to come before finishing the drawing - otherwise the work would go sluggish: well, it's like excessive satiety and sleepiness - while healthy light hunger stimulates efficiency.The commander mercilessly erased the contours of his shirt and began to work on the captain's naked torso.Oh, and then there was the matter of the shoulders, which were one thing in uniform and another without it; they could turn out to be either sloping or straight.James exulted at the thought that he could even draw different versions of the same body parts and see which looked better on Sir John - in fact, it would be fun, like a sort of changing clothes, except that it wasn't about clothes, it was about the naked body...The more he wanted to discover the truth...James could hardly wait to finish his work - but it had been a long time since he had felt such an explosion of bliss. And most importantly, he wasn't ashamed at all.He remembered the feeling well, and recognised that Dundy was right about drawing for the sake of solace - and it was nothing like looking at ready-made obscene pictures sold covertly: no, the Commander was creating, contemplating, adoring, and adoring a very definite person, the one and only.He concentrated on the details of his beloved image, and especially liked to draw Sir John's luxuriously large belly, round and soft.Yes, for some reason he thought, it was like a cloud, like a pillow that one longed to snuggle into - and so a deep hollow would form beneath it - he would like to run his fingers into it, feeling the warmth and proximity to the desired groin. And if Sir John would feel some nuisance because of his bulk, James would be happy to lift and hold his heavy, sagging belly.James wouldn't be too hasty though - he would have liked to hide his face in that hollow, to have it all hidden beneath the magnificent belly.His second dream was to kiss the deep belly button, wanting to do it with his tongue...Finally, James wondered if there were stretch marks - Sir John had clearly not been so seductively fat all his life - but how had he got fat, quickly or gradually? If quickly, there are probably some - resembling exquisite silver snakes... Though the old captain had put on a good deal of weight during the voyage, so that his uniform buttons were always flying off - then, perhaps, there are new pink ones. Ah, and he dreamed of licking both of such stretch marks carefully, unhurriedly... For now, all that remained was to draw them.James sometimes fell into a kind of dreamy, drowsy state, stroking his own drawings with his fingertip. He wondered if Sir John was ticklish. He wasn't sure he would dare tickle his beloved on purpose, but James would prefer him to relax rather than laugh nervously at those light touches.Gradually, James imagined how wonderful it would be to press his heated, hard cock against the pale, supple fat of the huge belly he longed for...In addition to daydreaming, also James's words became more daring at the sharpest, peak moments.‘Yes, he's old and fat and I want, I want, I want him!’ - was pounding in James's head as he cummed with a stifled groan, convulsively jerking out, gulping for air, sparks and stars flashing in front of his eyes.When he came to his senses and calmed down, he mentally apologised to God and Sir John for such insolence and irreverence, and continued to think of his beloved captain in the most tender and sublime terms.James had indeed found, if not complete consolation, a considerable escape from his past sufferings, and was indulging in the most ardent reveries, gratifying his carnal side unashamedly.
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In fact, Sir John, on the second day after the incident between him and James, turned from anger to mercy and in no way reminded the Commander of his transgression, a desperate confession to which any decent gentleman would have responded with a shocked denial. He did not rebuke the Commander for his apparent proclivities, nor did he resent the man he had taken in his bosom - nor did he give the matter any consideration. Though such sympathy or pity seemed humiliating at times and caused even greater remorse, if one thought about it, which James tried not to do.Meanwhile, Franklin pretended that everything was the same as it had been before, as calm and affectionate as ever, avoiding neither conversation nor physical contact. James was ready to idolise his captain for that alone: that was true Christian patience and gentleness.The more James's recent idea resembled insolence, and the Commander spent several evenings on pins and needles. But one day he did get out to spend a couple of hours in Sir John's company and try to fulfil his idea.Even in the silence there was a certain lyrical harmony and speechless understanding between the two higher officers of the Erebus. Each of them was sitting in his own corner of the great cabin, minding his own business, perhaps reading a book or doing paperwork, or making entries in the logbook. The remarks were low-voiced and tactful. If lively thoughts arose that the interlocutor was eager to share, one apologised for the disturbed peace, then quoted what he had read, and then asked simply and homely: ‘What do you think? Here's the following, see...’ - and so on. It also happened that one of them forgot how to spell this or that clerical phrase inevitable in reports - then they laughed together at the vagaries of the memory of even the most well-read person.This was the charm of their apparent peace, which in fact was not even there.The constant tension, the sparks in the air - though only James seemed to capture them, and Sir John remained as poised as ever.Then one day Franklin was leafing through the same logbook and humming a song to himself, which, judging from the general tone of the tune, was something of a religious hymn. Oh, I wish I could hear Sir John sing, James mused dreamily, wondering if Sir John had any singing skills. It would be wonderful if he did - he had such a lovely voice, deep and velvety, and it became clear and sonorous when he gave commands or gave sermons…‘Now, don't get distracted!’ James told himself and noted that the most important thing now was not whether Franklin could sing, but that he was completely immersed in his thoughts and activities without raising his head.Sighing secretly and swallowing the excess saliva, James cast a furtive glance at the commander, opened the back of the book where a blank sheet of paper rested, quietly took out a pencil and began to sketch his beloved traits from life, as carefully as if the partially deaf Franklin might be alerted by the rustle of the pencil on the paper.James felt a strange mixture of excitement and shame. It was as if he were a thief, and also as if he were engaging in good old-fashioned self-satisfaction again, only in a more refined and restrained way, but also more daring and risky. The biblical allegory came to mind, and the Commander grinned involuntarily, as he and his involuntary model amusingly switched roles: he was the old man, and Sir John was Susanna.Thoughts of bathing turned out to be out of place. To his confusion, James again felt the traitorous warmth and tingling in his crotch, and squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.‘Damn it, not now!’At the same second, a caustic mental voice parried: now or not, the purpose of the action was still the same…Irritated, Fitzjames frowned, twitched, and, covering himself with his book, slid his hand down to run it over his trousers a few times in the innermost place, but he made it worse: instead of the tension relieved by the fabric smoothing out somewhat, it became even more taut.The blood rushed to his cheeks as well - only not to embarrass himself in front of his superior, oh no!Sir John looked up and glanced questioningly at James - still absent-mindedly, as if through him - but it was enough to daze the Commander into an even more ridiculous gesture.Fitzjames sprang to his feet to dash to the table and sit down - and in doing so dropped his pencil, which rolled across the floor to Franklin's feet.James, of course, could not allow Sir John to bend down to pick it up, so he went after it himself, like a dog after game, grabbed it, and straightened up, red, dishevelled and pathetic, shielding himself with the book with the edge of the drawing sticking out of it as if it were a fig leaf.‘Oh, James dear, have I interfered with your studies?’ asked Sir John simplistically but surprisingly shrewdly.‘Yes ... no, sir, not really,’ James uttered.‘What were you doing, some writing and noting? Or maybe drawing?’ smiled the old captain kindly.It was necessary for him to lie, to make something up as he went along, but James just didn't dare do it. So he had no choice but to say in a low voice:‘Yes. I was drawing. Yes, sir.’‘But why are you so upset? Are you not happy with what's turning out?’‘Well...’And there seemed to be no denying it or agreeing with it. In the first place, the subject of the drawing itself - how could one be dissatisfied with Sir John, and with the very process of depicting him, with the labour of love...? But, on the other hand, if there had been more time, and if Franklin himself had deliberately posed for James - with purpose, with sense, in an orderly manner - everything might indeed have turned out better. Meanwhile, the latter decided to encourage his confused disciple: ‘Jimmy, for God's sake, you should be more confident! I know you draw very well, in a lively and relaxed manner that can be both more sketchy and more thorough. It's fine. Why don't you show me your work?’The Commander now wanted to sink into the earth - or rather, through the deck planks, the cargo hold, then through the thick layer of pack ice, and there to vanish in the darkness of the Arctic waters. Here, too, he could not refuse, and, having no way of escape, doomedly pulled the drawing from the book and handed it to Franklin.Sir John's face lit up curiously and almost mischievously with an inner glow: ‘Wow, that's me! But I can't believe I'm so good-looking. You have a firm, confident touch, a steady hand. If you weren't a soldier, you'd be an artist, I'm sure. You shouldn't be so embarrassed.’A tinge of languid sadness flashed in his gaze, but then warmth appeared.‘Maybe I'm, ahem, not quite ready for some initiatives - for instance, I was always uncomfortable when I had to pose for official portraits, especially daguerreotypes… Well, and when we sailed on the expedition, you, for instance, were a marvellous picture of yourself, and I was the worst, because I could hardly stand on my feet because of the damn Influenza.’The Commander frowned, both because of the compliments that had been lavished on him, and because of the itching discomfort of his own physical state, and because he did not realise how sincere Sir John was in his discourse. Meanwhile the chief of the expedition went on: ‘But the whole thing is a fascinating one for both artist and model, all the more a kind of contemplation, a striving for the beautiful. And I do not mind that you sometimes do some sketches. I'm not sure I'll always appear to be presentable,’ Franklin added shyly.Oh, did he know what he was saying!For James, he was always delightful and desirable. Sometimes, though, there was something surprisingly touching, something naïve, yet with an indefinable tinge of the ridiculous, about Franklin's appearance, making James want to go over and comb his thick greying hair more carefully or to adjust his uniform. It would not have been possible to smooth out the innumerable wrinkles of his old face, but it would have been possible to kiss them and make them seem more cheerful, to make Sir John smile contentedly instead of being stiff, perhaps. But was that for the Commander to judge? He suppressed a convulsive sigh.‘Sir John, if only you would agree...’‘I agree to facilitate any of your noble endeavours, James. Including the practice of the arts. It strengthens the spirit.’‘You yourself are a work of art, sir, already acknowledged, though there are ignoramuses who dare to criticise,’ Fitzjames was suddenly tempted to utter in a burst of eloquence, but he certainly did not dare.‘Much obliged to you, sir.’‘You needn't be. We are close friends,' said the chief of the expedition plainly, but as if speaking in a conspiratorial manner. ‘So draw as much as you like. Perhaps it would be good if I agreed to strike some sort of pose for your convenience?’If Franklin had known what James was thinking when he heard such an innocent phrase, he would have hoped that the disappointingly swarthy hue of his skin would not betray his true feelings.‘I dare not inconvenience you!’‘Come now, beauty requires sacrifice,’ Franklin smiled, ‘though it's not that much of a sacrifice, believe me.’James went away quite dazed, but happy: he had got away with his mischief, having been taken guiltlessly and favourably, and he had managed not to show any bodily manifestation of his ardour, but now he could indulge in the long-awaited pleasure before going to bed.The next day Sir John called Fitzjames to him, and with a childish curiosity began to pester him with questions: ‘Well, James, my friend, shall we begin? What shall I do? Stand up or sit down? How should I turn round?’‘Oh, no, you do whatever you like,’ the Commander protested, ‘and I'll do the sketches.‘And yet I beg to disagree,’ Franklin replied, in his usual floridly soft manner, frowning his bushy eyebrows with comical earnestness. ‘I want it to be real - let me, I suppose, stand up like this!’He straightened to his full height, unfolding his shoulders adorned with epaulettes, raised his chin, and placed one hand on the back of the chair he had pulled back, and James marvelled at the majesty of his captain's stature. Recovering from his reverie, he set to work. After waiting patiently for a quarter of an hour, Franklin said softly, ‘Well, my dear James? Anything to look at yet? I'm sorry, but I'm really burning with curiosity. Oh no, don't get up, I'll come over!’The Commander was grateful for the concern and crossed his legs in advance, shifting his book, because he wasn't very good at keeping his composure today either, all because of a coveted detail that the model wasn't actually enthusiastic about.‘M-yes, I'm not very slender,’ Sir John sighed with restrained chagrin. ‘Well…’‘God, you're perfect!’ - James mentally objected.James almost gritted his teeth at the fact that it was impossible to jump up from his chair and bury his face into Sir John's body, even if not naked, at least through the thick wool of his uniform to try to feel the softness, the splendour, the.... Ah, what is there to say? Aloud the Commander only said: ‘Pardon me, but I can fix it.’‘No, no, Jimmy, you've done so much already, you'll spoil the drawing, and the paper itself! It's just the way it is.’‘But you are upset, Sir John.’‘It's nothing,’ grumbled the old captain, and, after a moment's hesitation, added pleadingly, ‘but I suppose I could try again, couldn't I? Perhaps it depends on the angle, and I took an unsuitable pose...’Fitzjames was careful not to say what he really thought of the situation, and for the next few minutes poor Franklin tried his best to suck in his impressive belly, but he failed miserably. To be more precise, it did not last long, and soon the hapless model was completely exhausted. Besides, it turned out that while he was standing still, bringing his body into a completely unfamiliar position, his back got quite stiff.‘I'm getting tired, my boy,’ Sir John complained.He groaned, rubbed his lower back, squirming a little and rocking back and forth a couple of times, then pushed back his chair and sank heavily into it.James felt a twinge of remorse and exclaimed guiltily: ‘Oh, sir, you see, this is clearly not a sacrifice worth making for a dubious “beauty”!’‘It's not dubious at all! Come on, Jimmy, show me what you've got, and I'll give you my full review…’They bickered for a few minutes longer, and then they decided to take a middle ground - let the Commander draw a-going, but if he needed any additional help or correction, Franklin was at his service.This became their new good tradition, which added a touch of spice and sophistication to the usual ways of spending long winter evenings together.It would be perfectly true to say that James was now happy. But there was a nuance. He was still very often tormented by the fact that he could never satisfy his curiosity about Sir John's complete appearance, let alone fulfil his needs, which sometimes made themselves known in a very insistent, uncomfortable, sometimes maddening way. James had to console himself with the fact that he had a respectable reason and opportunity to contemplate the object of his love and passion unhindered and for as long as he liked.Not only that, but Sir John thawed more and more, and began to approach James more and more often, leaning towards him, looking at his drawings and putting his hand on James's shoulder, hugging and kissing him in gratitude....On the other hand, oh, if Franklin had known what he was doing by this!And so the Fitzjames' evenings dragged on, which he always looked forward to with both longing and impatience, knowing that the next day the sweet torture would be repeated with deceptive relief as a reward.Sir John was invariably complacent and peaceful, at the same time animated and curious. But one evening he was sighing heavily, rubbing his forehead as if he had a headache, his shoulders looked slumped, as if with a heavy burden, and all the pretty wrinkles of his face expressed suffering, so that James could not bear to ask him directly what was the matter. It turned out that the chief of the expedition had had a quarrel with Captain Crozier.Wow! So, because of the relations with this Irishman, he is still so upset? So jealously noted Fitzjames. He frowned ‘And you're so worried? Why? You are perfectly entitled to point out to your subordinates their mistakes, just as you give me comments and suggestions when you see my drawings,' he said defiantly.‘Those are not comparable things, and you realise it yourself,’ Franklin shook his head annoyingly. ‘Besides, I value my relations with my men, all of them.’Suddenly he looked at the Commander pointedly and with a kind of wistfulness and said quietly, ‘Including you, my boy.’James froze in surprise at the sudden transition. Franklin, meanwhile, continued: ‘’Alright, I realise that I was wrong and very hard on you some time ago. The fact that you are capable of truly deep feelings is good and wonderful, and who am I to discard such a precious gift as if it were rubbish? This, this is the real sin.’The expedition leader was proclaiming something unheard of, and James listened to him as if mesmerised.‘I'd like to be strict and righteous, but by no means heartless. Come here, Jimmy, let's kiss as a sign of reconciliation.’He drew the Commander's arms around him, and James found himself slumping forward - and the kiss was not on the cheek, but on the lips, but it was not even that that struck James, it was the way the kiss was: not light and chaste as usual, but full of passionate tenderness, intensity, and longing.James closed his eyes and responded to the kiss, dissolving into a sensation of warmth, of joyful amazement, and a triumph of gratitude so incredible that James lost his temper and moaned softly. The kiss went on and on, and Sir John released his beloved disciple's hands and wrapped his arms around his back, pulling James closer to him as James pressed himself into his luscious, big, heavy body, mad with love and desperately regretting that they were both clothed. After all, how James would have loved to know the softness of his adored mentor's skin and flesh.....When they finally pulled away, the Commander's eyes were blurred, and Franklin's face, noble and affectionate, seemed to glow with a golden halo - or had the excitement blurred the light of the wardroom lamps and turned it into an optical illusion? The Commander's heart was beating desperately, and, gasping, he could barely utter, ‘Oh, Sir John.... that was... so marvellous...’‘You, you're marvellous, my boy,’ muttered the captain.‘I thank you. Oh, thank you so much. You have fulfilled my dream.’‘As a matter of fact, I thank you too, Jimmy.... because I've wished it myself at times,’ said Sir John shyly.A whole whirlwind rose up in both Fitzjames's head and chest. Was it worth all this time to hesitate, to pretend, to do violence to oneself! But for the old captain there had been a kind of breakthrough, a revolution, not merely a daring step - what were James's confessions compared with that! The Commander felt both crumpled by the storm of feeling, and felt that he must take the initiative.‘Sir John,’ said he, in a strengthened voice, coughing, ‘I dare to make my request a second time. Let me love you.’‘I consent,’ replied Franklin meekly and with a note of solemnity. ‘But my inner duty commands that I should ask you the same question - do you allow it?’‘You might as well not even ask it, sir, for you have long known the answer,’ James whispered.And they embraced again, snuggled close together, stroking each other's backs with eager relief and affection, their eyes closed. And at that very moment, as James went to sleep, still feeling the sweet taste of Sir John's delicious lips, he realised that one of the most important mysteries, if not the most important, had been accomplished, and he was filled with hope for new and even more vivid discoveries.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
‘Oh, my friend Jim, you've blossomed!’ Lieutenant Le Vesconte exclaimed. ‘It's a sight to behold, for I was beginning to worry about you.’He was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the commander's cabin, and the latter was in a similar position on the bunk. Each had a glass of wine in his hand, and they took a slow sip of it, only occasionally swallowing impatiently, as if to show their eagerness to exchange news.‘So, drawing has done you good, may I state it?’ winked Henry. ‘I'm not such a bad counsellor?James grinned and shook his head thoughtfully, ‘Surprisingly...’ And things have even progressed a little further than originally thought.’‘You seduced our dear old man Franklin?!’ Le Vesconte glowed. ‘Have you two already indulged in the carnal pleasures?’‘Dundy, that's not the manner in which I'd like to discuss anything! If it can be done with you at all!’‘Why? I'm only being curious!’Le Vesconte stared and blinked actorly, so that the Commander couldn't help laughing and making another low-key revelation: ‘All right! Well, anyway... He's agreed to pose for me.’‘Oh, so it's a matter of little else,’ Henry stated waggishly, ‘well, you know how it is between painters and sitters...’James blushed, abruptly set the empty glass aside and jumped to his feet - Le Vesconte rolled back to the door, ‘Hey, what are you doing?’‘Apologise,’ James uttered in a level voice, however looming menacingly over his hapless mate. ‘I will not tolerate Sir John being spoken of in that tone.’‘Oh, you are in earnest,’ Henry whistled, humbly.‘And it always has been, in case you haven't realised,’ James repeated insistently.The lieutenant rose to his feet, readjusted his uniform, and stretched out in front of the Commander, not fooling around, though.‘Maybe I didn't realise, you're right, mate. Sorry for the impertinence. I just wanted to make a joke, lighten the mood, just like in the good old days.’There was a sad note in Le Vesconte's voice. It was beginning to dawn on him that nothing would ever really be the same between him and Fitzjames. He realised that James's heart belonged to the captain as much as his body, and no matter how long the journey from the desired intimacy, James would be patient and persistent, and would not give in to any friendly provocation. At the very least, he would seek solace in sublime artistic creation.... Eh, and he, Henry himself, gave him in the hands such a dangerous, insidious weapon in the form of a sharp pencil and deceptively soft brush!...Probably all this was so clearly reflected on the lieutenant's face that James softened and said regretfully: ‘Dundy, mate, sorry about the outburst. But I asked you to be more discreet last time, and you were deaf to my pleas. I do love Sir John very much. And I'm very devoted to him.’The worst assumptions were confirmed, and a sigh of chagrin escaped from Le Vesconte's chest. Fitzjames stepped closer and touched him gently on the shoulder: ‘I'm sorry, but...yes. Our previous encounters are in the past. I'm truly sorry.’‘I'll figure it out, don't worry,’ Henry grumbled, shrugging his shoulders. ‘I never seem to lack ingenuity. I'd even take my own advice, but the trouble is, I can't draw.’‘Maybe I should give you lessons?’ James grinned.‘I'll think about your suggestion, it's quite tempting,’ Henry smiled.With that they hugged goodbye and Le Vesconte went to his quarters. Fitzjames felt a little embarrassed at the way their conversation had turned out, but he had to admit that it was only the final stroke; he and Henry had not had the same ‘exercises’ for a long time.But spending time with Sir John was getting sweeter and sweeter. It was as if the old captain were taking shy steps toward a rapprochement, looking for a way to express his own tenderness and ask James to reciprocate it.He would take James's hands in his own and tell him how beautiful they were, wishing he could paint them the way his precious disciple, gifted in the arts, could.They sat side by side with the doors locked, snuggled together in the orange light of the fireplace, talking quietly and heartily, sharing again and again the hardships of their past adventures and adding more and more details.James recounted how he had been captured and robbed by the enemy during the Euphrates expedition - Sir John recalled how, during the ill-fated expedition of the nineteenth year in Canada, he had been robbed by his own intendants in the factories, mocking and hypocritical, condemning the men to hunger and privation. James recalled the trashy rotten water from half-dried wells in the deserts - Sir John remembered the moss, lichens and boiled, strip-cut boots that had brought him heroic but so miserable fame in his homeland. James was dying one day of malaria, and Sir John of hunger and exhaustion. James found himself in a besieged city and had to flee under cover of night - while Sir John was besieged by the tundra itself and had nowhere to go; the one's trouble was people, the other's was the gaping, maddening desolation.The latter was to be their curse - if, indeed, Francis Crozier's dire predictions were to come true.But that was not what he wanted to think about now, lounging in the warm air of the cabin.In response to Sir John's caresses, James took his hands and ran his fingertip along the bulging veins, sometimes pressing lightly, as if afraid of damaging them. James touched his fingertips to the lovely brownish spots, sparse but noticeable, like spilled buckwheat kernels - he could almost smell the warm scent as he pressed his lips to the back of Sir John's hand.The man was embarrassed at first, but he soon grew to love such caresses and made no attempt to remove his hands, allowing him to look at them as much as he liked, to stroke them, to pommel, to rub them with his cheeks. Especially when James sat down on the carpet at the captain's feet like a faithful dog and laid his head in his lap.Franklin liked to play with James's hair, to scratch and massage his head, which was always full of cares and worries, and he melted while hugging his beloved mentor's legs.But sometimes, when Sir John grinned and tugged playfully at a curl, or pressed his nails a little harder against James's skin, it would produce a tickle of excitement. Then James might have sighed and felt a less innocent desire to burrow deeper into his captain's groin, to press his face against the secret place and rub, rub, rub, trying to breathe the body odour through the wool of the uniform trousers... But he wouldn't let himself do that just yet.He was concentrating on more reverent touches.So, of course, they both adored kissing each other on the face. And James had felt completely bewildered a couple of times, and soon he was absolutely stupefied with happiness because of Sir John's peculiar manner.Whereas James himself simply concentrated on long quiet touches, Franklin's approach was equally thorough, yet almost solemn and...? officious? When he touched a particular spot with his lips, he would pull back as if admiring a painting in a museum or his own work - though Fitzjames, of course, was the work of a very different Creator - and say, ‘James, my dear boy.... What clever, expressive, deep eyes you have!’ - A new kiss. - ‘What beautiful cheekbones, they express all the manliness of your character.’ - Another kiss. - ‘And I can say the same for the strong-willed line of your jaw. And how beautifully shaped are your lips. And what a noble nose, that would honour a young Roman patrician. And those lengthwise dimples on your cheeks? They are, of course, the stamp of all your adventures and look marvellous when you smile - you should do it more often. And what a fair forehead you have, and a clear hairline - it's just right, and nice to look at, and it's noticeable that you're a gifted young man. And what silken eyebrows - they're beautiful both when you're frowning and when you're laughing...’It was like an inventory of valuable property, and James was stunned, like a penniless peasant who didn't realise he had a treasure buried in his cellar.No, he thought he was very good-looking, meticulously groomed, one of the most brilliant officers in the navy, but such praise was confusing and embarrassing. How could the great Sir John Franklin himself admire him?! How could he admire him for his looks, and not forget to relate them to his character and merit, and do it so freely?!James was dizzy, his soul seemed to be rushing to heaven, he wanted to fall down in front of the captain, and then jump up and pounce on him with a hail of kisses, and shower him with them from head to toe, and not necessarily even tearing off his clothes....But wait a minute, what could that be about, oh no, James didn't dare think about it - but he was ready to bite his lip and puzzle it out: but how could he get Franklin to take off his uniform?!There was no way. There was no coercion, no insolent requests, and he was just happy to see Sir John take off his tunic and admire how good he looked in his white waistcoat and shirt with the ample sleeves. Then James remembered how he had portrayed Franklin in the first few times he had chosen not to draw this or that article of clothing - shamelessly undressing him on a sheet of paper - and felt the heat in his cheeks. And then considered himself entitled also, after asking permission, to unbutton or even remove his own tunic - and Sir John never minded, and looked at him with a curious and a kind of mysterious thoughtfulness.Meanwhile, sometimes the Commander's inner fire was flaring up in tongues, igniting his body, and then subsiding peacefully, illuminating him with a gentle light - and in a moment of this pleasurable state, James had thought of something new.He began to paint watercolours, though he was not yet as good at it as he was at pencil and ink drawings. Then one day, before he had begun his work in colour, he came up to Franklin with the softest mink brush in his hand, and, somewhat timidly, stopped at the captain's chair.‘What, Jimmy?’ Sir John asked tenderly.‘Close your eyes, please,’ whispered the Commander.With a smile, Franklin trustingly obeyed. James leaned over and began to gently stroke his beloved mentor's face with a fluffy brush. The man let out a surprised low chuckle, ‘Oh, my boy...’‘Does it please you, sir?’ with parched lips James queried.‘Very much so. It's an unusual sensation... You're an inventive person, Jimmy,’ Sir John murmured. ‘Go on...’James was breathlessly tracing all the touching lines, all the wrinkles and folds of the beloved face. Franklin smiled and squinted dreamily, and then he said: ‘Say, Jimmy... maybe you're thinking of the best shades to use in a new portrait?’Yes, certainly. How could he not have realised such a beautifully savoury explanation before?‘Oh yes, Sir John,’ huffed James, ‘what a marvellous idea! Yes, I think the colouring might be a little different from last time... I don't think the shading should be so harsh here, or the umber too much... You need more transparency here. And a little more carmine to the ochre to give a healthier, fresher tone. As it really is,’ he hastened to add.Sir John chuckled approvingly, almost cooing, as he leaned back in his chair, his head resting blissfully on the back of his chair. James was silent for a few minutes longer.Sir John sighed softly, and the commander wondered if the old captain had dozed off, his face relaxed and peaceful, his breathing even, his lips slightly open. And then James felt the urge to place a kiss on them. He fought the urge, instead pausing to gaze at his favourite features - but another urge was beginning to overwhelm him, making him shudder.Under his intense gaze, Franklin opened his eyes - and looked at James, not alarmed, not frightened, but somewhat puzzled, with an expression that was still clearly questioning.‘P-pardon me, sir,’ muttered Fitzjames.He fell into an inexplicable panic - or rather, if he had had a chance to consider how he felt, he would have realised that he guessed that he was going to be asked what was the matter - and would have to answer frankly again, as when he had been asked what he was doing, and had to confess that he was drawing his mentor without permission.That's what happened.‘What's the matter, Jimmy?’ asked Franklin softly.Still looming awkwardly over him, James felt his breath catch.‘I have had a... a very strange desire, Sir John.’‘How strange?’ the captain enquired as if nothing had happened.‘You will be offended.’‘But how do you know beforehand, my dear?’Oh, there was no escaping this calm but insistent enquiry. And James, swallowing, whispered hoarsely: ‘I... I want to lick your face.’Sir John opened his eyes wider in amazement, raising his sable eyebrows, and James squirmed, expecting to be pushed away or shouted at.But the captain smiled slyly and only muttered: ‘Oh, you're my puppy...’With that, he stretched, shrugged, and threw back his head again, languidly and expectantly, ‘Then, Jimmy...’He was breathing somewhat heavily, too, so that his broad chest heaved; his dark, greyish hair fell in disorderly strands over his forehead, and his face glistened vaguely, either still from James's saliva or from the thin sweat that had set in.The sight was unusual, a little obscene, but mesmerising, and the Commander couldn't find anything to say, just smiled thoughtlessly. Meanwhile, a mysterious, transparent light flashed in Franklin's eyes, and he said: ‘I think a good boy should be rewarded for his love...’Before Fitzjames could question him, Sir John leaned towards him and his hand slid to James's groin, and he let out a gasp as he felt the weighty and demanding pressure and friction.‘Ah, that's what I thought,’ Franklin hummed.How shameful it was, but at the same time desirable and pleasurable! James stilled, not daring to move, but not the least bit afraid - these unexpected movements did not discourage him, quite the contrary. Sir John continued his insistent stroking and kneading of his crotch, so that James bit his lip, clenched his legs, arched up in his chair, and thrust himself against the strong, large captain's hand, feeling with each passing second the heat rushing to his face, the disappearance of all thought and complexity of emotion, the lingering itch of shamelessness.James closed his eyes, arching and twitching faster and faster, exhaling more sharply so that his breathing was joined by a languid moan - until finally his whole large, muscular body shuddered, feeling the climax of bliss.It could obviously have been more vivid in some other way, if only Sir John had decided to get rid of such an unnecessary obstacle as James's uniform trousers, which he was now likely to have to tidy up - but it was still a richer sensation than the one he had fantasised about in his own quarters.James collapsed and slumped back in his chair, grabbing and stroking Franklin's forearm one last time and mumbling, 'Sir John.... oh, thank you... that feels so good...'Franklin leaned towards him and kissed his temple: 'I'm only too glad, my boy. But I don't suppose you've got a mind to paint now, have you?''Perhaps not,'All Fitzjames could manage was to give a crooked, helpless grin.The atmosphere in the great cabin appeared to blur a little before his eyes.‘Then get some rest and head back to your place. You may even leave all your belongings here, for you won't mind coming to see me again soon, will you?’What slyness Franklin was capable of! And James, chuckling, admired the sparkle in his eyes.‘Of course, you have no doubt, sir!’James walked softly towards the exit. On the threshold he turned round and asked hesitantly: ‘Look, it's all been so marvellous, but what about you, Sir John?’‘There's no need for concern, dear Jimmy, I can take care of myself if necessary. All the more reason, I hope, to make up for something later on?’ questioningly bowed Franklin's head.‘Oh yes, sir!’ assured James eagerly.‘Then good night, my boy. Come over again.’That night, the creaking of the ice around the ship was the sweetest lullaby to James, and he fell asleep with the stupidest, happiest smile on his face.