The very next Sunday, Jacob asked Jasper if he might have some paper, a pen, and some ink to write a letter to his family.
“Certainly,” said Jasper. “Come with me.”
Jacob followed Jasper to his study but stayed at the door, remembering Jasper’s warning never to enter his study.
“Thank you very much,” said Jacob, his eyes lighting up when he was given all he would need to write his letter.
Sunday was also Polly’s free day and since she’d gone into Parramatta to see Moira, a friend of hers from the old country, Jacob decided to write his letter on the kitchen table. Polly would, she’d told him, be back in time to prepare the evening meal. Therefore, the kitchen was available and Jacob could concentrate on what he wanted to say.
Deer Mam and familee,
This is Jacob. I am wryting from Austraylya. I am living on a farm owtsyde of Sidney Town. My master is Jasper Livingstone. He is good. There ar two uther peeple living heer. Samyel, who dusn’t lyke me much. I don’t no why. And Polly. She is the cook. She is a lot of fun.
I want to ask how yoo ar. Mam, ar yoo well? And Annie and my bruthers? I wuree abowt yoo and I hope yoo ar all helthee and happee. I wood lyke to no how yoo ar.
Love,
Jacob.
When he’d finished, he was so proud of what he’d written, he went and found Jasper in his study. Standing at the door, he made a small noise at the back of his throat.
“I want you to read it,” said Jacob, holding his letter out. “To make certain I haven’t forgotten anything.”
Jasper motioned him forward and he handed the letter to his master, studying his face as he began to read it. When he saw an ever-so-slight grimace on Jasper’s face, he felt a flash of embarrassment.
“I might have spelled some of the words wrong,” he said, his tone full of apology.
Jasper moved his head in the direction of a shake, but it didn’t quite get there. “No, you’ve done a wonderful job.” He continued reading. “I think you’ve got everything you need to mention here.”
When he finished, he folded the letter up and sealed it with wax.
“Now that we’re here at my desk, why don’t you let me write the address?” he suggested while fanning the letter to cool the wax.
Jacob beamed. He’d seen Jasper’s handwriting. It was neater than his own, and more mature.
“I’d like that very much,” he said.
He dictated the address to Jasper and when he’d finished, Jasper put the letter on top of a small pile of his own correspondence.
“I’ll post this along with these others next time I’m in Parramatta.”
“Thank you, sir,” he said, backing out of the study. “I’ll leave you in peace.”
Jacob was glowing. A letter to his mother. At last she’d know he was safe and happy in Australia, and within the year he’d have news of her, and of the rest of the family. Elated and full of energy, he decided to go for a walk. It was a cool day, somewhat overcast, but still fine enough to enjoy the countryside. Since he’d already explored the citrus orchard, he decided to head to the river. Polly had told him how she often went there when she wanted to rest her soul. The way she described it, it sounded wonderfully serene.
He strolled across a large area of cleared land, now covered in lush green grass, and disappeared into the trees. His ears were filled with the sounds of the Australian bush—of the birds and insects hidden in the foliage. One day he hoped to be able to put a name to each and every one of them.
He was a good way into the bush when he realised he’d better take more notice of where he was going. Towering trees, leafy shrubs, and feathery ferns surrounded him on every side. No matter which way he turned, there was little to distinguish one particular part of the bush from any other. It would be all too easy to get lost in the endless wilderness. Edward, back at the barracks in Sydney Town, had told them the bush stretched out from the coast forever in every direction. If he lost his way, who’d come looking for him? A convict of no importance?
He retraced his steps to the edge of the clearing and began his journey again, breaking branches and scratching ‘Xs’ into some of the trees he passed with a stick he’d found lying on the ground. Now there was no chance of him losing his way.
The further he went into the bush, caressed by the soft fern fronds, the more at peace he felt. This is how the blacks must feel, he thought. At one with nature, as much a part of the bush as the birds and trees. Every day, soothed by the sounds of nature.
He heard the sound of water running over rocks and pushed through a dense patch of ferns to locate it. But as the ferns grew right to the edge of the river, he almost went tumbling into its crystal clear waters. Like a bolt of lightning, his arm shot out and he grabbed a large fern frond, using it to pull himself back to safety.
A bit further up the river, the ferns gave way to a grassy bank where he was able to kneel down and dip his hand into the water to get a drink. How refreshing it tasted. Better than well water. He drank more and more, and even though it wasn’t a particularly hot day, he couldn’t resist the temptation to immerse himself in the cool liquid. He removed his clothes, shedding them onto the grass. Naked, he stepped into the water, taking care not to slip, since he wasn’t able to swim. In truth, he was a little nervous, but the river was narrow and it didn’t look very deep. If he stayed in the shallows, he’d be fine.
He squatted down in the water, feeling a cool rush as the water flowed across the sensitive skin of his arsehole. He enjoyed it so much he remained squatting, just low enough so the surface of the water tickled the ring of puckered flesh between his buttocks. When he’d had enough, he sat down in the water, the tiny smooth pebbles on the bottom of the river pressing into his bare flesh. He drank some more and feeling the need to urinate, just let himself go in the river. He watched the pale yellow of his piss dilute and vanish almost instantaneously as the water carried it away towards the sea.
He shivered. It was time to get out. Climbing onto the grassy bank, he found a patch of sunlight and sat with his knees drawn up to his chest, hugging them close for warmth. Slowly the drops of water spotting his skin evaporated and he was able to get dressed.
Without making a conscious decision, he found himself following the river upstream. He hadn’t gone very far when he became certain he could hear someone splashing about in the water. It wasn’t the splashing of water as it washed over rocks. That was a constant and regular sound. This was different. It was irregular, sometimes loud, and sometimes barely able to be heard. His heart began to pound. Could it be a black? He’d never seen one before, though he’d heard enough about them to be wary about meeting one. He crept forward, careful not make even the slightest noise. Whoever it was had their back to him. It was a man. He could tell by the torso. But the torso wasn’t black. Tanned, but not black. It was…Samuel.
Crouching behind a fern, he was well hidden from Samuel, who was washing himself in a large pool to one side of the main part of the river. He watched with guilty fascination as Samuel lathered his body with a soapy flannel, standing at the centre of a ring of spreading foam. He realised if he was caught, Samuel would finally have a real reason to hate him. Yet he was entranced just as he’d been at the stable, when Samuel had been loading the wagon. There was something sensual about the way he moved, about the way his large muscles moved beneath his tanned skin. He was the epitome of masculinity and power, of strength and control.
Then Samuel turned around, unaware he was being watched and completely uninhibited. His chest was a thick carpet of dark hair turned grey by the white soap bubbles. The hand with the bar of soap disappeared beneath the surface of the water and Jacob grew hard imagining where it was, what it was washing. Then Samuel started walking out of the water. Jacob held his breath. He watched Samuel toss the bar of soap onto a patch of grass by his clothes then turn to re-enter the water.
Samuel’s cock was semi-hard. Either that or it was the largest cock Jacob had ever seen. It dwarfed Peter’s thick appendage, and Peter’s, up to that point, had been the largest he’d seen, including those of the men he’d observed bathing on the ship. Samuel gave it a tug as he waded back to the centre of the pool, and Jacob, overcome by an intense sexual urge, lay down in the grass and took his cock out of his trousers.
Positioning himself so he could lie back comfortably and still see Samuel, Jacob began stroking his cock. Samuel needed to do no more than remain where he was, doing what he was, to provide all the stimulation Jacob needed. But when Samuel dived underneath the water, Jacob was able to see the white orbs of Samuel’s buttocks part a little to reveal a dark centre. His cock twitched. He closed his eyes, playing back that glimpse of Samuel’s most private part; the one part of a man that titillated Jacob the most. His hand slipped faster up and down his erect shaft, bringing him closer and closer to climax. How he’d love to put his face into that manly crevice, to inhale, and perhaps touch it with the tip of his tongue. He could imagine how firm those milky white arse cheeks were, made solid by years, perhaps decades, of manual labour.
He felt his balls drawing closer to his body. He reached down with his free hand, slipping it between his legs until his index finger found his arsehole. He parted his legs, spreading them wide so he could get his finger inside, wincing as it penetrated the sphincter. The pain was soon replaced by a sensation approaching that of ecstasy. He pressed his fingertip against his prostate, massaging it as he stroked his cock. Within the minute his body had tensed. He thrust his hips up and he moaned as a thick ribbon of seed exploded from his cockhead. Warm, wet splashes dotted the skin of his stomach and chest, and he shuddered as a second, third, and fourth jet of seed shot into the air. Only when the last drop had oozed from the head of his cock did he open his eyes.
“Thank you.”
It was Samuel, standing over him, naked, dripping, and erect. There was a small bead of clear liquid sitting atop the eye of his cock, and from the look of it, it was clear he’d been standing there for a good while.
Jacob gasped, and not a little easy-to-get-away-with gasp, but a great gulp of air accompanied by a noise so loud it made Samuel smirk.
“Spying on me,” he said, his expression growing dark again.
Jacob shook his head. “No, Samuel. I wasn’t. I didn’t know you were there.”
“Liar.”
“I didn’t, Samuel. I thought I was alone.”
Samuel stared down at him in silence, no doubt enjoying the fact Jacob was squirming beneath his gaze.
“Would you like to suck this?” he said finally, gripping his erection and squeezing the drop of clear fluid from the tip.
Jacob couldn’t quite believe his ears. But should he answer truthfully? Was Samuel playing with him? Taunting him? Why would Samuel offer him his cock? He’d spent so many weeks looking at Jacob as if he were something he’d discovered on the bottom of his boot. Nevertheless, Jacob wanted Samuel’s enormous cock in his mouth—to taste it and to see how it would feel slipping across his tongue, filling his mouth and pushing against the back of his throat. If there was any chance he could experience all that, he’d be a fool to pass the opportunity by.
“Yes, I would,” he said. “I’d like that very much.”
Samuel smiled and stepped forward.
Jacob sat up, craning his neck forward. He reached a hand out, his fingers ready to grip that enticingly thick erection.
Samuel bent at the knees, bringing himself down to a level where his cock was barely an inch away from Jacob’s mouth. He slid his hips forward, his cockhead pressing against Jacob’s eager lips.
“Wait a minute,” said Samuel, straightening his legs. “What would the master say?”
Jacob was suddenly bewildered. “Pardon?”
Samuel stepped back, away from Jacob. “I mean, you and him.”
Jacob furrowed his brow. “Me and him? What do you mean?”
“Are you simple? I mean you and him. This is what you do to each other, isn’t it? You suck him and he buggers you?”
Jacob was taken aback. “He has never buggered me. Have you lost your senses?”
This piece of information had Samuel at a loss for words. All of a sudden he didn’t look so confident; so high and mighty.
“He’s never put his cock inside you? Inside your arse?”
Jacob could quite honestly reply he hadn’t.
Samuel turned and walked back through the foliage to where his clothes were, in silence. Jacob used the opportunity to head back the way he’d come, using his makeshift track of broken branches and ‘Xs’ on trees to help him. He was already halfway across the cleared area before Samuel emerged from the bush. Once he knew Samuel was behind him he made a determined effort to keep his eyes on the way ahead.
What had just happened? He replayed the scene over and over in his head—Samuel’s words and the cruel way Samuel had tempted him and then withdrawn. Something about it had left Jacob feeling dirty, and more than a little anxious. He knew for a fact Samuel had discovered two things that afternoon. The first of those discoveries had been Jacob masturbating in the bush near the pool where he’d been bathing. The second was that Jasper had not been buggering him. The first discovery had given Samuel something to hold over him. He’d seen it in Samuel’s eyes. The second discovery had removed that leverage and replaced it with something else. Something which had obviously rattled him.