Going out in the sun is a necessity, though the dawn mists retain some trace of darkness and sea within them.

Going out to a fading fray.

I behold the waters and they are no different from the fog that surrounds me. Dawn in the distance, as though it had naught to do with us.

The waters begin to lose consistency; they are no longer liquid shadows under the Demeter, but depths, an abyss over which we sail.

Joachim is at the helm, vigilant, and Acketz examines something in the gunwales. Too active, despite the changing of the watch.

They should be nearly still, yearning for the warmth of their blankets, a cup of rum inside them, hungry for some lively bare skin to free them from the cold in their bones, from the moisture that has seeped under their clothes.

But they work under the weight of the First Mate’s watchful eye.

They fear him. They know that Vlahutza firmly believes that pain is the best argument.

They glance at him askance, hoping he is also tired, that the night hours have chipped away at him.

But the Romanian treads the bridge as though he will never tire.

He looks more a captain than I.

He is warmly swaddled, but his clothes have not bunched up upon his body; disciplined, they cover him, giving him a martial appearance. His shirt clings to his shoulders, his strong chest, his broad arms, his thick neck; pantaloons that embrace his legs, tucked inside his leather boots, hugging his narrow hips, molded lightly to the bulge of his sex.

He looks good.

He hides not in his coat. He carries it upon him, an instrument to defend himself from the weather, like unto the instruments of his warm blood, his strength, those hard muscles that ripple.

His clothes are not a heap of skins on some common body. I repeat, he is not me.

Upon seeing me, he gives a short gesture of greeting. It is not that he wishes to greet me, but that I am the Captain, and such is his duty.

He believes in the chain of command, that there is a logic to my assignments.

In taverns, captains are wont to declare: “Aboard my ship, there is only God above me. But as long as God does not approach, I am the one in charge.”

He believes in the insignia of the uniforms we seldom wear.

I am the Captain of the schooner and above me there is only God, but before the Captain is he.

He need only ascend two rungs to be God.

I contemplate his face. Strong and firm. The cold has ruddied his skin. Under his beard, one can descry the enduring freshness of his face. It is but the fourth day of sailing and the Demeter glides smoothly through the waters.

I like his face, his firm jaw, the muscle that twitches in his cheek when something bothers him.

He is stone, rock. I know.

I should like to penetrate that hardness, enter its warm interior, ejaculate inside it, seeking to dilute the sand that composes it.

I am not unaware that he might kill me if I try.

Aboard the ship that is his body, above him there is not even God.

I know not whether he enjoys the women he buys. I have seen him lead them away from the tavern with near indifference.

The chain of command, the insignias: He has the money they want; they have the sex he requires. He offers both copper coins and semen.

His caressing a woman in the presence of the other sailors is not meant to excite or please them: It is a way of telling us that the deal is made.

Grim kisses, tongue forcing lips open, no pleasure for either. Grim struggles to feel the merchandise.

“Captain,” he says when I reach the bridge.

“Vlahutza.”

He looks at me carefully, mayhap wondering whether I have awakened screaming from another nightmare, like the first night.

With a gesture, I say no, but I did scream. I know not whether in wakefulness or in sleep. My throat is dry and sore, but this proves nothing. Fear spreads salt in the lungs, dries out the mouth, makes saliva bitter.

I examine the deck as though making certain all is in order, that he has carried out accordingly all his nightly tasks.

I am all-but contemptuous. There is no sense in revealing that the same fear that infuses the sailors snarls in his Captain’s heart.