#forcexenization

Goodsir does not know which of the Mutineers first began to call him a sheep, only that he cannot be sure it was Hickey, for it is not always quite an insult and many folk before have cried him a lamb of a Mary Ann. With his curly hair and full whiskers, large eyes, and what is deemed a self-effacing and sensitive disposition, he has long since resigned himself to the comparison. And some of his captors seem to apply the epithet with far more affection than they really do derision. 

When he tires and stumbles in hauling the sledge-boat, they joke about how, why, of course, sheep aren’t beasts of burden. As they catch or harness or hitch him they ruffle his hair, pat his shoulders, tell him he is doing so well anyhow for what he is. Expecting him shy from them as he does. His flinches and avoidance are dismissed as a fault of natural skittishness, and his captivity is also considered normal and natural. 

Early on there are times when he is not chained and thinks of making a run, but Tozer holds him, a hand tucked inside Goodsir’s coat and under the hem of his waistcoat to casually loop around his braces or hook into his waistband. The strong anchoring shape of his hand relaxed at Goodsir’s lower back, warm amid the chilly draft of air which its intrusion facilitates. 

But all the Mutineers likewise begin to touch Goodsir whether he be chained or not. Most making a habit of petting him, calling him good and pretty: a good, pretty boy; a good, pretty thing. 

When Goodsir is not held and does not make a run, he is praised as a good sheep, obedient livestock, some desirably docile creature. Perverse acknowledgment feels better than them ignoring him in guilt, but he certainly resents them either way. 

“Just follow along, there’s a lamb,” Hickey says to him. And he does. 

Why doesn’t he fight and spit? Bite? Scream? Lie down limp and refuse to comply? He doesn’t even speak to damn them, only to tell them “No” to no effect. He always responds to their ridicule with icy politeness. 

But he does follow. Says one thing while he does another. 

Hodgson and Diggle are not treated as if they are bestial, even if they are also lesser for being rather separate from the Mutineers. Hodgson is more complicit than Diggle, who is likewise the Mutineers’ unequivocal captive. But it is only Goodsir who is singled out to be called inhuman; he believes this is because he is the one who consistently dares demand of Hickey that Goodsir and whoever else also so wishes be returned to the Expedition proper forthwith.