Midshipman's Hope

The plantation manager nodded in understanding. “Welcome to Carr Plantation. You’ll be leaving in the morning?”

It was a clear suggestion.

“Yes, sir, I guess so.” I looked disappointed. “Actually, I was hoping--well, I know it’s foolish.”

“What’s that, young man?” He looked a

“We only have two days left of our vacation, Mr. Plumwell. I work, and Anthony’s in a special school.” From Derek, a strangled sound. I said, “We’ve never seen a big plantation before, and I was hoping somebody could show us around. Of course I could pay... “

I couldn’t read Plum well’s expression, so I rushed on.

‘ They said to see either Carr Plantation or Hopewell, because they were both special. But Hopewell’s too far, and I don’t know when we’ll get out together again.” I spoke loudly to Derek. “Anthony, maybe next year if I get a few more days vacation we’ll go to Hopewell. That’s the bigger one.”

Derek’s color rose. He breathed through gritted teeth.

Plumwell frowned. “I suppose you’re city boys and don’t know. It’s an insult to offer money for hospitality on a plantation; that comes with the territory. Anyway, Hopewell is nothing special. We’re the i

He paused, looking us over. “We’re not in the tour business, but I guess I could spare a hand for a few hours, seeing your brother’s retarded. But don’t let it get around back in Centraltown or we’ll be flooded with freeloaders.”

“Zarky!” I nudged Derek. “Did you hear? He’s going to show us a real plantation, Anthony.” Derek’s lips moved, but he turned away and I couldn’t see what he said. “He’s real happy, sir. It’s all he’s talked about since Centraltown.”

I rolled my eyes.

Plumwell winked in understanding. “Why don’t you boys stow your gear in your room. I’ll have Fe

“Great, sir!” I shook hands. “Shake hands with Mr. Plumwell.” Derek fixed me with a peculiar stare. I pushed him forward. “Anthony, remember your ma

Fe

I closed the door behind us, dumped my duffel on the bunk.

White-faced, Derek glared lasers across the room.

“Something wrong?” I sorted through my belongings.

Without warning he launched himself across the bed, clawing at my neck. I caught his wrists as I fell backward. He dove on top of me, seeking my throat.

“Listen!” It had no effect. He strained to break from my grasp. “Derek!” He thrashed wildly until his wrists broke free. “Stop and listen!” At last, he got his hands on my windpipe.

Unable to breathe, I twisted and heaved, throwing my hips and bouncing him up and down. When he bounced high

enough I thrust my knee upward with all my strength. That stopped him. With a yawp of pain he rolled to the side, clutching his testicles. I rolled on top of him. Sitting on his back I forced his arm up between his shoulder blades, and waited.

He grunted between his teeth, “Get off! I’ll kill you!” I slapped him sharply alongside the ear. He struggled harder.

Each time he heaved I pulled his arm higher behind his back.

Finally he lay still. “Get off!” A string of curses.

“When you’re ready to listen.”

“Off, you shit!”

I slapped him harder. I liked him, but there were limits.

Finally he lay still. “All right. I’ll listen when you get off.”

I let go and sat on my bed. “You have a complaint, Derek?”

He bounded to his feet, sputtering. “Your retarded cousin Anthony? You say that in my own house?’“Do they want company, Derek?”

My calm question gave him pause.”No, not much. Why?”

“What did I get us?” He was silent. “A guided tour,” I answered myself. “A tour of the whole place. Anyway, you said I should call you my cous--”

“I’m a little slow? A, SPECIAL SCHOOL? How DARE you!”

I let my voice sharpen. “Think! You can ask anything you want and they won’t take offense. They won’t even know why you’re asking.” As the realization sunk in he sank slowly onto his bed. “I got you in, when you didn’t have the guts to come. I arranged a guided tour. I heard Vax call you retarded, and you took it. What in God’s own hell is the matter with you?”

“That was the wardroom,” he muttered. “Not my own house.”

“What difference does that make?”

“You’d have to be one of us to understand. In your home you have respect. Dignity.”

I shrugged. “You’re just a middy. You don’t get dignity until you make lieutenant.”

I think at that moment he’d forgotten entirely about the Navy. He looked at the marks on his Captain’s neck and gulped. “I’m sorry, sir.” His voice was small.

“I have a right to dignity too,” I told him. “Look what you’ve done to mine.”

“I shouldn’t have touched you.” His gaze was on the floor.

Well, I’d told him to treat me as senior midshipman rather than Captain. Look where it got me. “You’ll be sorrier.

Seven demerits, when we get back to the ship.” Oddly, it made him feel better. It made me feel better too. My throat hurt. I giggled. “I admit, though, you had provocation.” I snickered, recalling his fury in Plumwell’s office. The more I thought about it, the fu

Watching me roll helplessly on my bed in silent mirth Derek glowered anew, but after a while he couldn’t help himself and began to laugh with me. After a few moments we stopped. I wiped my eyes.

“I’m sorry, sir, but you’re a peasant,” Derek told me.

“You don’t understand dignity.” It started us going again.

This time when we stopped all was well between us.

“Come on, aristocrat, let’s inspect your estate.” We left the room and hurried down the stairs. “Just remember to play along,” I whispered at the last moment. Daringly, he punched me in the arm before we reached the main floor.

24

The helicopter swooped along the dense hedgerow marking the plantation border, while sprinklers made mist in the earlymorning light. We were exploring the more distant sections of the estate, having toured the main compound the evening before.

“How much wheat do you grow?” Derek had to shout above the noise of the motor.

“A lot.”

“No, how much?” Derek insisted. Fe

I leaned across from the back seat. “Just say anything. He won’t know the difference.”

Fe

Derek furrowed his brow. “Is that a lot?” Since di

Fe

“I like corn!” Derek said happily. I nudged him, afraid he would overdo it. “Nicky, why’d you poke me?” His tone was anxious. “Am I bothering him too much?” Nicky? I’d kill him.

“You ask too many questions, Anthony.”

“He’s no trouble,” Fe

Derek’s look was triumphant. “See, Nicky?” He turned to Fe

“Don’t I wish!” Fe

Plumwell, and he’s just the manager.” His tone changed.

“Course, he’s been here most of his life.”

“Doesn’t the owner live here?” I asked.

“Old Winston died six years ago, but he was sick long before that. This place was started way back, by the first Randolph Carr. He left it to Winston.”

“I take it he had no children.”

“Are you kidding? Five.” Fe