Later
We are returned to Norfolk’s ruins and the Crepuscule. Our raid is applauded as a success; the choicest of the meats have already been disbursed among the galleys of the wealthiest among His Lordship’s supporters.
Now returned, I avoid Bono as best I can, though his smoldering gaze often lingers upon me. When I departed, his eye was swollen so large it was almost shut. I fear our intercourse cannot be other than filled with animosity.
None of us who were out upon that foraging raid have much taste for company. We do not recount our adventure. A gloom has settled over us all. We avoid even our own society, so much as may be avoided when we must sit knee to knee. We do not speak. Slant watches over us all; Charles feigns sleep.
In the evening, I could little abide company, and when we were admitted above for our period of exercise, I removed myself from the others. Standing upon the fo’c’sle deck, I surveyed the black ruins of the town and the small duties carried out by light of sunset and cresset on other ships: the watch upon one whistling, another engaged in holystoning the deck, and on the Peace and Plenty, women in wide beaver hats taking the air.
Bono came to me. He came to my side and stared out across the water. I would not look at him.
We did not speak, but watched the small waves and the gentle protocols of falling night.
At length, he whispered, “Her name was Morenike.”
And then he went below.