The Ruthless Captain

Chapter 10

I always thought those who wrote in journals were wistful people. People who held onto memories, not daring to live in the present and are afraid of the future. But as time skips past me with every blink of the eye, I am instilled with fear that my life on this small world will not leave any significance or mark after I meet my old friend named death. Now, I know you, Thomas. I know you to be judgemental, callous and downright a scoundrel when it comes to things but I would hope that a record of your adventure through the treacherous path called life would remind you that you lived life to its fullest. I would hope that would be the case.

 

As you are writing, spring has finally fallen on little Dorhaven. The sun shines so brightly into your study; you're nearly blinded by it and can barely see the words you write. You enjoy bathing in the heat provided by the light but your coat that your mother has insisted on you wearing to meet Lady Elizabeth is a death trap, holding all heat and boiling you from the inside out. I remember fondly of the day mother had insisted upon me meeting Lady Elizabeth as soon as next month end. We had just finished our morning tea when the topic of marriage came up. Knowing fully well it was my time to branch out and start a family of my own, I had agreed with hesitance. It wasn't that Lady Elizabeth was hideous and intolerable but it was the very fact that the pressure of proposing to her and marrying her that hindered my thoughts. I was never the romantic. I made love to any woman who batted an eyelash towards me, yet I always desired to spend the rest of my life with someone whom I loved.

The entry ended there. A smudge of ink near the end of the last sentence suggested to me that he had quickly stopped, not bothering to complete his thought. I peered down at Thomas, forehead damp with a thin layer of sweat. His eyebrows were furrowed as if he was suffering a terrible nightmare and his face was scrunched up from pain. I knew I shouldn't have read his diary. It was a betrayal of trust on my part. After all, if it were me, I would be terribly upset and furious if someone let alone him read my diary entries. Yet, I couldn't help feel a twinge of jealousy brewing away in the pit of my stomach. I nearly laughed at myself for feeling this way. It wasn't like he was mine back then when he wrote this. We hadn't even met! However, my mind was thinking otherwise as I wondered how Lady Elizabeth looked like, if she was more beautiful than me in the eyes of Thomas and if she was more intelligent. Did he love her at first sight? Did they whisper each other secrets like we had at night like lovers? Did they make love?

I shut the leather bound book. No, I was insane for being jealous of a woman in his past. I was now in his present and I am also the one who would be taking care of him in his moment of need. Getting up from the edge of the bed, I peered over my shoulder to see him still in deep slumber. Sighing, I ran a towel through another bucket of warm water, returning to his side and patting his forehead. He seemed to growing hotter every hour. I knew very well from stories told to me from my maids back home that a wound left infected and unintended would lead to fevers. Once a fever started, it would be terribly hard to bring one's body temperature back down and once it got too hot, death would be a possibility.

I will not allow myself to ever think of Thomas knocking on death's door. I would die before I allowed this to happen. Pursing my lips, I pulled the thin layers of blankets away from his stomach and looked at the angry looking wound. The bandages had begun to bleed through again. He must have shifted too much in his bed while sleeping. Swiping my bangs off my face, I gathered new bandages and began my work, exposing the flesh and then wrapped it up again, hoping this would help heal the wound. The activities of the day were catching up on me as I found my weak body swaying back and forth. Gripping tightly on the bedframe, I placed a hand on my forehead in hopes of stopping my head from spinning. I was exhausted. But there was no possible way I could sleep right next to him. It was far too risky if I were to touch his wound in my sleep and cause another bleeding. Drawing a chair from the only desk in the room, I pulled it up right beside his sleeping body and willed myself to get some rest. The journal still lingering in my mind.