Page 11

A-pirating

A fter we’d eaten our supper, he bent me over the bed and removed the stopper, describing to me in detail the sight of his creamy spunk dribbling out and onto a towel he’d placed there.

He promptly fucked me again and left more inside me, although this time he played with his seed before letting me tidy myself up. By the time he was done with me I was desperate again.

“Please,” I groaned. “I can’t stand this cruel torment.”

“Oh, you poor dear. Come here, then. Sit on my lap.”

I sat on Captain Martin’s lap with my head on his shoulder as he jerked me off, with rough motions, whilst he whispered cruel and filthy things that he would do to me. When he was done, he cleaned me and tucked me into bed.

“Good night, Rooster. My sexy, little witch.”

“Good night, Captain Martin. My lord and master.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I like that. That’ll get you whatever you want with me.”

*

I woke to arguing.

Opening my bleary eyes, I saw the captain fastening his breeches and grabbing his shirt from the back of the chair. Hillier stood before the closed door.

“If it’s so far away, perhaps we should try to avoid the vessel,” Captain Martin said.

“I don’t think we can, Captain. And the crew needs a battle.” Hillier stated. He side-eyed me, acknowledged me with a nod, then returned his gaze to the captain. “They’re all a bit spooked by what happened, and we need supplies.”

“That’s why we’re heading for Tortuga,” Captain Martin said, pulling on his jacket.

“Yes—” Hillier explained, while the captain gazed at me with a smile. “—but, the men don’t want to buy supplies. They want to steal them.”

Captain Martin closed his eyes, as if leading a ragtag group of bloodthirsty pirates was more than he could bear. He opened them and gave me a falsely cheery grin.

“Get up and get dressed, Rooster. We’re going a-pirating.”

“Coffee?” I squeaked. Surely we couldn’t go into battle without breakfast. Not this time.

Hillier snorted a laugh. “Jesus. The freckled slut’s been with you for a month and he’s already turned into a pampered princess.”

The captain folded his arms over his chest and sighed. He really did have the long-suffering attitude down.

I frowned. “Fuck you, Hillier. I was a princess before I ever boarded this ship. But you’re right about the slut reference.” I winked at him and wiggled my hips under the sheet.

“Christ,” Hillier said, and his cheeks went red. “Get what you need and then come on deck. I’ll tell the others.”

“Thank you, Hillier,” Captain Martin said.

Hillier left and I dragged myself out of bed. My cock was hard as was usual first thing in the morning, and before I could get very far, the captain had gone to his knees and dragged my shirttails up to my waist.

I gazed down at him in surprise.

“Someone mentioned breakfast,” he said, wrapping his fingers around the base of my cock and taking me in his mouth.

“Fuck,” I hissed. “I was talking about cheese or bread. Oh God.”

The captain wasn’t messing about. After a very short amount of time he got rather a good bit of nourishment to settle his stomach. He pulled off me and smacked his lips.

“That’s better,” he said, standing.

His cheeks were flushed and his hair mussed. He looked quite young in this moment.

“Yes,” I agreed, my brain scrambled but my body singing with relief.

He pulled me against him and kissed me with sincere affection. I tasted myself on his tongue. “Go get some coffee and a bite of breakfast in the galley, then find me on deck.”

“Yes, Captain.”

I went to take care of business first in the fancy water closet that was honestly one of the best things about being the captain’s boy. Lovely to be able to shit in peace. I spent altogether too much time there because of the comfort and coziness of the place.

Sure enough, someone knocked.

“Oy, there!”

Guthrie’s voice.

“What’s taking so long? Do you need help?”

“Why? Would you want to?”

“‘Course not, you wanker. But hurry the fuck up.”

I wiped my hands and fixed my breeches, then opened the door. Mr Guthrie stood there in a soiled apron, his hands on his hips. Perhaps a bit more wary than usual, but he’d called me a wanker, so he couldn’t be all that frightened of me.

“Done?” he asked.

“Yes, Mr Guthrie.”

I went to move past him, but he stopped me with a hand to my shoulder. “There’s bacon and fried bread in the galley if you’re looking for breakfast. The captain usually has a morning meal brought to his rooms, but he’s rather busy at the moment.”

I was a bit stunned by Mr Guthrie’s generosity.

“Thank you. I am hungry. Is there coffee?”

“Of course. Help yourself.”

“Thank you so much,” I said, grinning like a fool. “Enjoy your…” I waved my hand vaguely at the water closet.

Mr Guthrie rolled his eyes and closed the door.

I went to the galley and had a couple of pieces of the fried bread and a mug of coffee. Only then did I feel like I could face chaos on deck, and the preparations for an actual pirate attack. At least, this time, we would be on the offence.

Shouts and directions from Hillier and the captain could be heard as I climbed the steps to the deck. Then the voices of other men giving directions to the men beneath them. The Arrow was a hive of activity.

When I emerged from the stairwell, I spied the captain directing men near the bow and made my way over.

“Simon. Good. Stay close to me, will you?”

That I could definitely do. Or I’d try to.

“Yes, Captain.”

He eyed me with concern. “Ever been in a battle at sea?”

I swallowed. “Only the…last one.”

“Ah. Right. Of course. Well, this should go more smoothly. Although you have to be ready for anything in this line of…work.”

“Work?”

“Yes, Simon. Work. Just because we go about things a bit differently than the Royal Navy doesn’t mean there isn’t some validity to what we do.”

“Go about things a bit differently?” I said with incredulity. How dense did he think I was?

He narrowed his eyes. “Never mind. I’m not in the mood to discuss semantics.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Call it what he would, what he had planned was thieving, plain and simple. With a bit of murdering and maiming thrown in. I wasn’t looking forward to it.

Captain Martin shouted out more orders, then turned back to me.

“She’s a modest vessel, smaller than the Arrow , so victory shouldn’t be too difficult for us. That said, there may be violence.”

“ May be violence? I thought that…”

“All right then.” He sighed. Good thing he liked my arse so much because he looked vexed with me at the moment. “There probably will be violence, but I do try to keep that sort of thing to a minimum. If they will surrender, all the better. Then nobody needs to die.”

“I—what? Aren’t we…pirates?” The disappointment in my voice was ridiculous, considering my desire to avoid violence of any sort.

Captain Martin frowned. “Privateers, Simon. Not pirates. We’ve a little more class than that,” he said, clearly not a fan of the term I’d used by mistake in his hearing. “And I’m a great believer in the power of intimidation.”

Of course he was. If anyone could commandeer another ship without spilling blood, it would be Captain Martin. Even though the attempted negotiations with the last vessel hadn’t gone as planned, I had utmost faith in Captain Martin’s judgement. If he thought we could avoid spilling blood, I was in favor.

I knew by now that the captain’s mouth had skills beyond what he liked to show me in the privacy of his cabin. He was an excellent orator and well versed at arguing a point with grace and precision.

Captain Martin filled me in on our quarry. She was still quite a ways off. Hillier estimated that we’d get close enough to announce our intentions in about an hour. She hadn’t shown signs of alarm or avoidance, although they must know of our presence. The Arrow flew a Dutch flag when not on an aggressive approach, and we hadn’t switched the decoy out for our own insignia yet. They likely thought we didn’t mean any harm.

The captain gathered the crew below the forecastle, where he stood. He raised his voice so that everyone could hear and smiled as if he were preparing to host a grand party.

“Now, we will raise the black flag in one hour, once we are close enough that they can’t escape when they realize our intentions are not entirely honorable.”

Not entirely honorable. Again, I was amazed by the captain’s flexibility of speech.

“I know you are men of great strength and fortitude, and with excellent capabilities in the area of hand-to-hand combat. And we will engage in combat with the men aboard that ship if we have to .”

There were cheers. The captain raised his hand.

“However,” he said, waiting for quiet before he continued, “If we can convince them to surrender without the use of brute force, I will award the crew of this ship a five per cent allotment of my share— the captain’s share —of whatever we take. To be distributed evenly, on top of your individual shares.”

There were whispers and amazed mutters.

“Five per cent?” one fellow said. “That ain’t much, split amongst us all.”

The captain kept smiling until other members of the crew began to complain.

“It’ll take more than that for me to keep my killing arm still.”

“I’ll not be polite for five. Make it ten.”

“Ten per cent! Ten per cent!”

I gazed about me at the men who adored Captain Martin, now complaining about staying their hands for a five per cent extra take. I couldn’t fathom their reasoning.

Except that Captain Martin didn’t look surprised or alarmed. He frowned as if giving the situation much thought. And in that moment, I knew that he’d started with five per cent because he’d anticipated the men wanting more.

He was a clever fucking man, my captain.

“Well. You drive a very hard bargain, you lot. Ten per cent of my share?”

“Ten!”

“Ten per cent! We won’t stop for naught but that.”

“Wouldn’t be worth it for five.”

The captain nodded and said very soberly, “All right. Ten per cent of my share, distributed evenly amongst you if you can keep the bloodshed to a minimum. And try not to kill anyone.”

“Aye, but can I injure a man? There ain’t no issue with maiming, is there?”

“If necessary, I suppose I’ll allow it. But please, not a leg. An arm gone, that can challenge a man. A leg gone, and that’s a much more serious matter, especially at sea.”

There were concessions of agreement.

I stood there, mouth agape, as the reality of the situation became clear. I was on a ship full of bloodthirsty men, whatever they might be called, who were going to attempt to be moderate in their mode of attack. I should have felt grateful, and I did. But all the talk about maiming and the idea of anyone losing an arm or a leg by sword made me queasy.

Captain Martin came down off the platform. He went to the rail, his spyglass in hand. He’d requested that I stay close, which was no hardship, so I walked over to stand next to him.

“That was very clever,” I said, crossing my arms and looking out to sea, where our quarry sailed steadily in the distance.

“I’m not just a pretty face.”

“It’s not your face I’m thinking about most nights,” I said with full-on sincerity.

He looked at me with his eyes raised as if he couldn’t believe my cheek.

I cracked a grin, and he matched it.

“Ah, Rooster. For once, I wish I wasn’t a privateer captain.”

I couldn’t hide my astonishment.

“How now? Not a privateer captain? Don’t be daft. What other line of work could you get into?”

He laughed. “Well, now, I’ve a mind to try my hand at blacksmithing when all of this is said and done.”

“Blacksmithing!” I pictured him in a leather apron, covered in grease, standing before an anvil, with a pair of tongs holding a red-hot piece of iron. Hmm, perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad. “But you love the sea!”

“Do I?” he asked with amusement.

“I thought so,” I admitted. “Don’t you?”

“Aye. I do. But a part of me yearns for stability, Rooster. Not now. Perhaps not for years yet. But someday.”

“In England?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps. Or Asia. Or some tropical country. I haven’t decided.” He eyed me carefully. “What are your plans for the future?”

I blinked. “I don’t make plans that far ahead. I don’t even have plans for tomorrow. I’m a live by the moment sort of fellow, I suppose. I ain’t convinced I have a future, to be honest. Not the kind you’re talking about.”

“Don’t be silly. You can do whatever you want, Simon. Don’t let anyone tell you different,” he said. “I used to think my life was the way it was because of God’s plan. But I was dead inside, not really alive. Only going through the motions.”

“Why did you stop being a navy captain?” I asked.

“The hypocrisy. The cruelty. Things I was required to do without a thought that I didn’t believe in.”

I didn’t ask what those things had been. I’d heard stories of the way the navy kept their men in line. Didn’t surprise me, really, that Dinesh had decided to have no more of that way of living.

“Here, on the Arrow , I run things my way. Our small community might be unconventional, but I’ve seen more acts of sheer bravery and honor on this ship than on any navy vessel I’ve been assigned to.”

Hillier was still shouting orders to the crew, and men ran about, preparing our approach.

Captain Martin lifted his spyglass to the distant vessel as the Arrow closed the distance.

“Looks to be a Chinese vessel, but I think they’ve already been through a skirmish of some sort,” he muttered. “Here, have a look.”

He passed the glass to me, as if I had the same kind of credentials he did. My heart lifted, and I felt more like a man than I ever had before.

I took the spyglass from him and brought it to my eye.

As I scanned the ornately designed rail of the other vessel, my gaze landed on a person who was holding a spyglass in my direction. After a moment, their glass lowered to reveal the strangest visage I’d ever seen. The person looked neither male nor female. They looked too young to be the captain, with long waves of tangled hair kept out of their gaunt face with bunches of string. Their stature was small and sleight, and their handsome face was covered with geometric black tattoos. They stared at me, as if they could see me with their bare eye, when I needed a glass to see them. They turned to a stocky man beside them and spoke.

The stocky man held his hand out for the spy glass, and the person with the tattooed face gave it to him, then looked in our direction with a resigned expression. The stocky man, likely the captain or the quartermaster, peered at the Arrow through his spyglass, then shrugged and limped away whilst the tattooed man stared after him with a face full of worry.

“Looks like an easy mark,” I commented.

They didn’t appear to give a damn about us. I’d only seen a handful of men on deck, and there were chunks missing from part of the ship. A couple of their sails were torn.

“But I don’t know if we’re going to find much loot.”

I lowered the glass and saw Captain Martin looking at me with amusement.

“What?”

“How the fuck do you know?” he asked.

“I beg your pardon. I don’t. I thought you wanted my opinion.”

“Well, I wanted you to be prepared.”

“For what? A bloody tea party? They don’t look all that frightening.”

Captain Martin stared at me. Perhaps he was wondering what had ever possessed him to invite me aboard. “Give me that,” he said, reaching for the glass.

I passed the shiny instrument to him.

“A bloody tea party,” he muttered, lifting it to his eye and pretending to be annoyed as his lip twitched and I grinned, scratching my chin and gazing out at the fine weather. Quite a good day to attack a crippled ship, I figured.

Captain Martin observed the other ship for several moments. Then he lowered the glass and met my gaze. “How are you with a sword, Rooster?”

I blinked. “If that’s a clever way of asking me about my skills in the bedroom, then quite good really.”

The captain sighed. “No, I mean an actual sword. Can you defend yourself, if necessary?”

“I can wield a dagger. But I’ve never used a sword.” I thought that was why he wanted me near him. Because we both knew I’d be pretty fucking helpless in a sea battle. Either that, or I’d call on my mysterious powers and kill everyone.

“Remind me to have you train with one of the men.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“For now, you have your knife. Just…stay alert. And be prepared for anything.”

I grinned, trying to pretend I wasn’t terrified. “Is that a clever way of—”

“Simon. Stop messing about. I don’t want to lose you.”

I stared at him, seeing genuine care for me in his kind expression.

“I don’t want you to lose me either,” I whispered.

He smiled and gave a nod.

I glared at him. “And you be fucking careful yourself. How would you spank me if you only had one arm?”

Captain Martin barked a laugh. “I’d figure it out.”

“You would, at that.”

Captain Martin checked the other vessel’s location again, then turned to look at Hillier, who stood nearby with his arms crossed whilst men ran about doing his bidding.

“Now,” Captain Martin said, and a chill went through me.

Hillier nodded and turned to face the main deck.

“ Hoist the flag !” Hillier shouted. “ Hoist the colors ! Let’s show them we mean business!”

“Aye, aye,” men shouted in response.

More scurrying, and the pulling of the rope to lower the Dutch flag and hoist our own. I’d had yet to see the official privateer colors of the Arrow , so I watched intently as the flag went up. The broad banner snapped in the wind and became, for a moment, a confusion of shapes.

Once the flag reached the top of the mast, the tarred sailcloth straightened out in the brisk wind that was causing us to gain on our prey.

A white, crudely stitched skull, on a black background, with a thick red arrow going through the outline and a bleeding red heart at the bottom. The sudden reality of being part of a privateer crew, and not simply a member of a ragtag group of jovial sailors, punched me in the gut.

“Captain Martin,” I said, my throat going dry. “Is it quite necessary to attack this other ship?”

He regarded me with a level of expiring patience. “We’ve been through this. The crew needs a distraction. And we need supplies.”

“Yes, but, maybe we could simply ask if they have any to spare?” I suggested.

He stared at me, opened his mouth as if to speak, closed it, and lifted the spyglass to observe our quarry.

After a few silent moments, he lowered the spyglass and turned to Hillier, effectively ignoring me and my silly suggestions.

“They’ve seen our colours. Things are lively now. Send a warning shot over the bow.”

“Aye, Captain,” Hillier said.

“Give her a warning, now! Fire the cannon!”

I put my hands to my ears, as the men fired a cannon over the other ship’s bow as ordered. The Arrow vibrated with the force of the launch. I only hoped they’d heed the message and not try to fight us.

They didn’t fire back, and by the time we came abreast of her, it appeared they weren’t going to put up a defence. But the captain didn’t order Hillier to stand down.

“Wait a few moments to see if they hoist the white flag. If not, give them another warning.”

“Aye, Captain,” Hillier agreed, biding his time.

Captain Martin turned to me.

“Hillier’s got a boarding party of the most intimidating crew members ready. They’ll go first, and once they’ve secured the ship, we’ll go. Or you can stay here. It’s up to you.”

I didn’t want to be left here on my own.

“I’ll go with you.”

“Good. You’ll need a title, I suppose, so they’ll think you’re someone important.”

That hit me harder than I’d expected. He must have seen the look on my face, as he cupped my cheek and continued, “Of course, you’re vastly important to me , Rooster, but I doubt that introducing you as my bedwarmer and cumslut would give you the status you deserve.”

I stifled a laugh. “Yes, Captain. Understood.”

“I’ll call you my right-hand man and introduce you as Officer White. How does that sound?”

“Well, rather accurate, since it’s usually your right hand wrapping around my sabre.”

“Good Lord. Are you going to be able to keep your mouth shut?”

“Yes, Captain. That title sounds right swank.”

“Yes, it does,” he regarded me critically. “Get your jacket.”

“Yes, Captain.”

I ran back to his rooms and grabbed my fancy jacket off the back of the chair. Since the weather had been warm, I’d sort of forgotten about it. But I should wear the garment for this meeting. I glanced in the standing mirror and made some adjustments. The fine workmanship of the cloth and button closures made me look quite respectable.

A gigantic sound rang out and the Arrow shook right down to the timbers.

“Ready…and FIRE!” Hillier shouted.

Another loud bang and shudder.

A spike of fear shot through me as I hastened up the stairs.

The deck was a hive of activity. Men darted here and there in a kind of organized chaos. Captain Martin stood by the rail, looking through his spyglass at the ship that was now smoking, with half of its deck blown apart. Even though a part of me was terrified, I did notice that he cut quite a striking figure.

“HOLD!” Hillier shouted. “Rifles!”

The crew who were lined up at the rail shouldered their rifles and took aim. I was surprised by how close we now were to the other ship.

“Ready! Aim!” Hillier shouted.

Then Captain Martin lowered his glass and raised his hand. “Wait!”

“Stand down!” Hillier commanded, and I watched as thirty men lowered their muskets, obedient to the last.

A wooden oar waved over the deck of the other ship, with a white flag at the end of it.

By this time, I had reached Captain Martin.

“They’ve surrendered,” he stated. “Hillier will send the armed party aboard, and then we’ll go. He’ll leave ten men here in case things go wrong, but I don’t foresee any trouble.”

We waited while Hillier took twenty men in a skiff that was lowered over the side. His boarding party rowed quickly to the drifting vessel. With skills forged from years of practice, the men climbed the ropes and netting at the stern like spiders, gaining the decks in no time and dispersing amongst the surrendering crew.

I expected to hear some alarming noise—musket fire, a scream of pain, perhaps a voice pleading for mercy. But all was relatively quiet.

Captain Martin kept apprised of what was happening with his spyglass, but he barely needed to use the tool. We were that close. Hillier must have given a signal because he lowered the glass with a smile and a nod.

“To the skiff, Rooster. But keep your guard about you,” the captain said.

“Who’s coming?” I asked. “Not just us two…”

“Guthrie will join us.”

I nodded, but then frowned. “The ship’s cook ?”

“Yes.”

“Are we having a picnic? On the other ship?”

Captain Martin turned, his eyebrows lifted in amusement.

“No, Mr White. Mr Guthrie presents a calm and wise demeanor when in a situation like this. He may be the Arrow’s cook—a fact we shall not disclose to the other party—but he used to be a general in the King’s Navy. He has…diplomatic skills.” Captain Martin shrugged.

I blinked in surprise at this unexpected piece of news.

“Blimey. You’re not having me on?” I asked with some incredulity.

“No. Not at all.”

In fact, here came Mr Guthrie now, dressed as fine as the captain and carrying himself with a sense of import I normally didn’t associate him with. As he approached, he gave me a smile and a wink, and I recalled our daily meetings at the water closet. His stately appearance showed how one’s perception of a person could change in an instant.

“Hello, Mr Guthrie,” I said.

“Officer White.” He gave me a nod, then turned to Captain Martin. “Captain.”

“Guthrie,” Captain Martin said. “Ready?”

“Aye. I’ve got the beef marinating for later. Let’s go.”

The three of us descended the rope ladder to the waiting skiff. Guthrie first, then the captain, and then me. I misjudged the distance from the last rung and tumbled into the boat, almost going over the side. But the captain grabbed the sleeve of my jacket and pulled me in.

“Watch yourself, White,” he said, in a gruff voice that betrayed his affection for me in the way he struggled to keep the sentiment hidden.

“Yes, Captain,” I said, reassured by his presence and his quick actions.

My gut was a coil of nerves as we rowed toward the other ship. But then Hillier’s face appeared at the rail.

“Nice lot here, Captain. They’re being wonderfully agreeable,” he said, dropping a rope ladder that unrolled against the hull until the bottom touched the water near our skiff.

“I’m glad to hear it, Hillier,” Captain Marin said. “Up you go, White. After Guthrie and before me, if you please.”

I struggled to climb the ladder—which proved more difficult than I’d imagined.

“Everything all right?” Captain Martin asked from his agile purchase below.

“I’m fine. I’ll manage.”

“Wonderful. I’d like to be aboard by sundown, if you please.”

I didn’t risk taking my gaze off of what I was doing to send him a disdainful glare. Instead, I gritted my teeth and tried to move a bit faster. He’d be lucky if I didn’t slip and fall, taking him into the drink with me.

Finally, we gained the deck, and Hillier helped me aboard.

“Officer White,” he said.

Apparently, while I was retrieving my jacket, Captain Martin had informed them of my temporary promotion.

“Hillier. Thank you.”

The captain came next.

“Welcome aboard the Lantern ,” Hillier said. “Her crew has given over with barely a skirmish.”

“Excellent. You’ve done well.”

Hillier beamed, glowing from the captain’s good favour. I understood how that felt. Hillier then made introductions to the captain of the Lantern , a stout, short fellow with scraggly black hair and a fancy mustache.

“Captain Dinesh Martin, this is Captain Hu Zhang. Captain Zhang, Captain Martin of the Arrow .” Despite Captain Zhang’s haggard appearance, he pulled himself up and greeted us with a polite and careful grace. He had a heavy Eastern accent, but his English was strong and clear.

Hillier continued. “This is Officer White, Captain Martin’s right-hand man, and Officer Guthrie, our navigator.”

I smiled and gave Captain Zhang a wave, which may not have been the right sort of greeting as Captain Martin frowned and gave a subtle shake of his head.

I raised my eyebrows and shrugged, tucking my hands under my arms.

“Welcome aboard,” Captain Zhang said. “We want no further battle. We have already been picked clean, but you are welcome to anything you can find.”

“Thank you,” Captain Martin said. “I’m sorry that your fortunes have been in decline. But your ship is now my property, and my men will search the vessel for anything we can use.”

“I understand. We will leave you to the task,” he said and wandered over to the tattooed person I’d seen through the spyglass.