aubrey

I sew his ears on from time to time, sure.

I was caught by him. I was absolutely, unintentionally ensnared. Held by the look in his cocoa brown eyes when he spoke, commanding me. I shivered at his words as if they were touches sliding down my spine.

A little after moonrise Stephen woke. Extreme hunger had brought on cramps in his midriff again and he held his breath to let them pass: Jack was still sitting there, the tiller under his knee, the sheet in his hand, as though he had never moved, as though he were as immoveable as the Rock of Gibraltar and as unaffected by hunger, thirst, fatigue, or despondency. In this light he even looked rock-like, the moon picking out the salient of his nose and jaw and turning his broad shoulders and upper man into one massive block. He had in fact lost almost as much weight as a man can lose and live, and in the day his shrunken, bearded face with deep-sunk eyes was barely recognizable; but the moon showed the man unchanged.

I was alone in this discovery because it was my secret, my private exploration.

Aubrey Fitzwilliam knew that crisis was another word for opportunity.