Pirates

Justin Alexander Taylor had always dreamed of a life at sea. Ever since he was a toddler he would stand on the very tip of England’s west coast, at Land’s End, and gaze out at the Atlantic Ocean in absolute wonderment at its vastness, his leather boots lapped by the salt water tide. It was the beginning of the 18th century and the names of Sir Henry Morgan and Captain William Kidd were not unknown to him. He thrilled at the stories he heard in front of the hearth fire at the pub. His bright blue eyes would widen in awe as rough, tanned, leather-skinned men told of their own experiences fighting a broadside against violent rogue bands. Pirates. Those scurvy dogs of the open ocean who crossed the line from privateer to robber when greed took its hold. If they preyed on England’s enemy, they were left alone, that was, until the trial of Captain Kidd. No outlaw was ever really safe from the hangman’s knot.

Justin’s father did not share that spirit of adventure with his son. That stubby graying stump of a man. Samuel John Taylor’s life poured out of the never ending bottles of ale he consumed. If Justin ventured a question of any kind, he would only growl rude vulgarity in his perpetual drunken state. Justin hated his father. The man never worked a day in his life and reeked like a gin mill. They lived off the few pence his mother made from sewing for the wealthy class. Samuel John loved to gamble and cheat his way around life. He would be found in the pubs and at the gaming tables, associating with the whores and thieves, or crawling in a state of inebriation through the raw sewage of a gutter. Justin had felt the sting of his riding crop on more than one occasion and had several deep scars to prove it. He never knew what he did wrong. He walked on eggshells his whole life. His mother was powerless in that house, busy cooking, cleaning, and washing, like a slave to that wicked man and when she was done there, her fingers would be busy darning with needle and thread until the candle burned to the holder. She never spoke. It was as if she had died long ago. Justin was through feeling sorry for her. She wouldn’t leave him. Justin had had enough of that household. Enough of the beatings, the insults, the hopelessness of existing with no future. He was forming a plan in his mind. One that would fulfill his fantasy for adventure and get him away from his father forever. He knew once he took that leap, there would be no coming back. It was either the thrill of a lifetime, or a death sentence. He wasn’t sure which. When he thought about his life as it was, he felt like he was already serving his eternal penance, without the transgression. His only crime? Being born to Samuel John Taylor. That angry squalid drunkard. Justin shivered with revulsion at simple eye contact from that villain. The beatings were unendurable and frequent.

He peered back over his shoulder only once. He left no note. If he had, his mother would be punished for the information it contained because, only she would be able to read it. And being the barer of that news would come with a heavy price. He carried only the clothing on his back, a pocket with a few coins, and his sixteen year old desires.

The English Corvette sloop of war, ‘His Revenge’ was in port in Penzance at Mount’s Bay, that protected little cove between the great Atlantic and the English Channel. The Master and his crew worked on getting her into perfect order. Captain Richard Cornell Jones kept his sea blue eyes sharp and his ears alert to any sign of authority. He stood on the main deck, ever watchful, as his crew gathered fresh water and food supplies, repaired the sails and rigging, and prepared the ship for their next long voyage in search of Spanish treasure.

Justin rode his horse with all his speed through the darkness. He came upon the inlet with its shining beacons of light and movement. He walked his mare now, watching all the action around him. When he caught sight of the Corvette his heart jumped under his ribs. “Oh, blimey, there she is…” he sighed. Her double masts stabbed the starlit sky, two towering black needles of hardwood. The shapes of men working on her could be made out like spiders creeping on a great rock. Her flags were flaccid, her sails still, twenty cannons loomed out of her top deck making her appear formidable against the backdrop of that small fishing village.

Justin dismounted and walked his horse into a stable. He came out with a handful of coins in exchange for her. He buried them into his pocket and leaned back against the uneven wall of a medieval inn to study his plan. He was startled by the approach of a very bold shadowy figure. A ragged veiled woman had spied him and smiled into his fresh handsome face.
“Hullo, my young beauty…would you fancy an evening with a lady?” She ran her hand through his long thick auburn hair.
He blinked at her in surprise. “I…I…” He pressed back harder into the masonry wall.
“A farthing could get you into heaven tonight,” she purred and smoothed her long bony fingers under his waist coat, searching for hot flesh.
He swallowed down a dry throat as she leaned closer, pressing her sagging breasts into his chest. He knew he needed every coin he owned for his risky venture. He’d never slept with a woman and oft wondered what it would be like.

She admired the clean lines of his smooth jaw, his bright large blue eyes, and his beautifully fine features. She dug her hands deeper into his hair and clothing and pressed him back against the stone wall with her entire length.
“Oh, lord….” He shivered. He wondered if he did go with her, if he would miss his opportunity to board this ship. “No, I cannot…”
“You are as pretty as a picture.” She ran her hands from his neck down to his breeches. “Like a lovely young lady, with your long black eyelashes and full pink lips…maybe I shall not charge you a pence!”
“Ohhh…” he moaned. “Free??”
“Yes, my pretty prince….” She kissed his neck.
“I…I don’t have much time….”
“It will only take but a moment. Come quickly.” She held his hand and brought him down a black alley.
When his breeches dropped to the cobbles he panicked and glanced around in intense fear. She was on her knees before him, sucking, closing her eyes and moaning. He could not believe the sensations and gave into it with a rush of pleasure. He tensed his thighs and his knees went weak. He panted from the shock. No one had ever touched him in that way before.
She set back from him and smiled up into his sweet cherub face. “You are a very pretty, lad. Will you meet me again?”
He tried to catch his breath. “I…I cannot. I am leaving…”
She raised his breeches and buttoned them for him, then leaned against him to kiss his lips. He twisted away from her mouth in disgust. He felt a panic at not being able to watch the loading of the ship. He nudged her back. “I need to go.” He tried not to look at her face. She was very plain, missing a tooth, and in need of a bath.
She smiled at him and nodded. “What is your name, my lovely boy?”
“Justin.”
“Justin,” she repeated. “I will remember you.”
He watched as she left, disappearing into the night. He hurried back out of the alley and finally found the opportunity he was hoping for.

“Aye! Captain, there is word of a Spanish Galleon set sail fully loaded from Chile headed home to Spain,” the Pilot whispered.
“Do we know her course?”
“Aye, sir. We do. We can intercept her off the coast of the American main. We need set sail within the next two hours when we have the tide in our favor.”
“How close are we to making ready?” he asked his first mate who was standing near to listen.
First mate Jack Cromwell scanned the area of working men. “Close, sir.”
The Captain nodded and stood back as barrels of food were being loaded from the dock. “Good, sooner the better, Jack….sooner the better.” He eyed the waterfront carefully, searching for a last glimpse of someone very near to his heart.

The tide lifted the Corvette in its shifting drifts as the ladders were hoisted, the sails raised. Captain Jones stared at the sky as they planned their route, mapping his course with his pilot and the stars. The water appeared like black glass as they moved out to the strong currents of the massive Atlantic Ocean. The sky was still tinged with violet as the last of the sun’s light dipped and vanished beyond the horizon. The strong odor of rotting shellfish was replaced by a cool refreshing sea breeze, very welcome, as it sought to dry the sweat soaked crew. Summer seas lay ahead. The Captain closed his eyes in a prayer as they made there way once again into the unknown. He tried to rid himself of the image of his lovely Katherine as she waved to him from the dock. Her long ginger colored hair was left loose, blowing in the warm air. He promised her he would be back to stay next time. He had told her that before. She vowed she would wait for him. He lowered his eyes from th!
at wind, it had caused hot tears to run down his face.

Justin listened to the movement around him. He was cramped in the barrel of apples he was hiding in, making a mash out of them with his shoes. Now he was wearing their sweet scent like an annoying over fragrant perfume. The voices of men and boot faded to a dull heartbeat. He could feel the swaying of the waves as they set sail, hear the moaning of the planks in the hull. He edged up the barrel top and waited, then lifted it enough to peek out. It was pitch dark. He set the cap down and climbed out, then replaced it and had a look around. He could just make out the shapes of things near him. He was in the bowels of the ship surrounded by the store of bottles of beer and hard tack. The soft clucking of chickens could be heard nearby. He could smell odors he recognized, and some that he did not dare to. He smoothed his fingers along the narrow lanes between crates and walls to find a door. He shook it, unable to open it, and wondered if it was locked. He jiggled it again and sighed unhappily, now he would have to wait until someone came in for food. He wondered how long that would be. He felt his pockets for his coins and panicked. He turned them out in absolute horror. The whore had picked them clean. “Damn wench!” His forehead broke out in a cold sweat. Now he worried about bribing the men to keep him on board. It was his last hope, buying them off. He sat down on a pine box and rested his head in his hands. “I’m doomed…” he sighed. He heard the scurry of a rat and elevated his feet up off the floor in a panic. “Can this get any worse??” He shivered in disgust.

Brilliant white morning had come and they were moving swiftly southward, hoping to catch the galleon as it left port from the west coast of South America and strand her helpless in open ocean off the coast of Brazil. The sails were swollen full; white squares and brown spears against a turquoise blue sky without a hint of clouds.
Justin stirred from his sleep to the sound of someone opening the door of the store room. He hid behind the crates and held his breath.

A man with a heavy black beard peppered with specks of gray, was gathering some food to feed the crew. He filled a basket and then went to check on the chickens for some eggs. Justin waited, then slipped out of the room and down the long narrow passage, wondering on how to find his way. A harsh smell of rot filled his nostrils and he assumed he was heading deeper into the bowels of the bilge instead of upward. He stifled a gag and backed away, trying to cover his nose and mouth, holding his breath. He had to back-track now and heard the cook still rummaging through the store room. He wondered if he should wait or make a dash passed the open door. He tiptoed and tried to listen. He heard voices approaching. He panicked and backed up, with great reluctance, closer to the dank reek. Two more men were coming in for some bottled beer. Justin held his breath again and leaned back against the wall, hoping the dim light was enough concealment.

They were laughing together, talking about the galleon and the treasure she was said to contain. They greeted the cook and offered to help him carry some of the goods up to the next deck for him. Justin kept still, waiting. Soon they were headed out of the storeroom and back to the galley.

Justin thought the coast was clear as he listened to their footfalls recede. He straightened out his back and combed his hand through his long hair getting it out of his eyes. He gasped as a man appeared, intent on one more bottle to sate his thirst.
“Argh! What the devil do we have here??” The Quartermaster’s dark eyes widened in amazement.
“Sir…I would like to explain…” Justin trembled nervously.
The broad hairy man brought Justin to the light to inspect him; his clean white knee breeches and brown pewter buttoned waistcoat. “Well, shiver me timbers!! How did ye get on board?? How old are ye, lad?”
“Sixteen, sir…please…I must be allowed to sail with you.” Justin put his hands together to beg. All the men on the ship had facial hair and bandanas on their heads. It was difficult for him to tell one from the next.
“Argh! No young boys are permitted on board. Ye have no idea what these dogs are like when they have had enough grog. They would devour ye,” Quartermaster Tucker said, his voice as rough as sandpaper.
Justin’s eyes widened innocently. “They would eat me?” he gasped in horror.
Tucker laughed at that innocent expression. “Aye, but naught the way ye thinks, naught over the spit. Come, lad, we must get ye to the Captain and turn back.”
“No!!” Justin shoved by him and ran down the passage. He heard Tucker shouting after him and ducked into an a dark narrow opening.

He felt his way down several cramped passages and could hear men’s voices in every direction. He couldn’t be let off back at port. He just couldn’t. He jumped in fear as he felt someone put their hand over his mouth and around his chest. He was dragged back into the crew’s cabin and spun around when he could to see his assailant.
“Argh, what a pretty boy! Ye stowaway for some adventure asea??”
Justin swallowed his terror as he studied this man. He was very short and heavy-set with a large protruding hairy belly and a coarse brown matted beard. His equally matted greasy hair was tied back from his face with a grimy rag. His teeth were rotting, and his breath emitted a foul smell. He was missing the last three fingers of his right hand and his clothing was filthy and stiff from salt and sweat. His breeches were now gray, once white, his red and white knee socks were almost brown and yellow. He wore no shirt to cover his furry obesity “Yes, sir…I did. Please don’t turn me in.” He was stalked hungrily and backed against a wall. He pressed into it with all his weight and tilted his face away from the man when his cheek was caressed by his misshapen hand. “Agh!” Justin gasped in disgust, “Do not touch me!”
“There be sixty on board, lad. No women. A pretty young boy hasn’t much chance in getting by unmolested. Ye were daft to come on board.” He licked his two fingers after they stroked Justin’s face.
“What??” Justin tried to swallow what he was just told. “I want to be just like the other men! I want to help the Captain get his gold!”
His mouth was covered quickly and he was pressed back even harder. “Ye’ve a lot to learn, boy, about keeping yar lips sealed. Ye don’t speak those words aloud. Ye’ll be lucky to leave this ship alive, and I mean ‘fore we ever meet the enemy.”
Justin managed to get his mouth away from the stifling grotesque grip. He panted to catch his breath. “Let me be! Let me just sail like one of the men!”
Ben Hornbolt leaned back and fondled the clean fabric of Justin’s clothing. “Ye’ll get used to being handled, ye lovely thing. It’ll be the reason to keep ye on board.” He leaned against Justin’s body.
Justin cringed in revulsion. “Oh, bloody hell...”

“Captain! Captain Jones, sir!”
“Come in!”
“Sir, there be a young lad spotted on board.”
The Captain narrowed his blue eyes at his quartermaster. “What boy?”
“Down in her hull, sir. The scallywag must have boarded whilst we were in port. He be a stowaway, sir.”
“Bring him to me at once.”
“Aye, sir, but, he still be at large, sir.”
“Well, find him!”
“Yes, sir.”

Justin shivered in disgust as those two chubby sticky fingers touched the skin under his waist coat. “Oh, Christ…no…” He shoved him back with every ounce of strength he possessed and made for the door. The man was on him again and dragging him back from its safety. “No! Did you not hear me?? I said no, you filthy beggar!! Get your hooks off me!”

The door swung open and one of the crew stepped in. First mate Cromwell grabbed Justin out of the clutching embrace and shoved him down the Corvette’s claustrophobic passageways. Cromwell said nothing to him and directed him to the Captain’s cabin on the upper deck. Justin waited as Cromwell knocked and was bid entry, then he nodded for Justin to enter. He peered in warily, then stepped inside. He found someone seated at a desk, studying a map. A man who was in his early thirties and well dressed, clean shaven and extremely handsome. His long thick brown hair was tied in a pony tail with a blue satin ribbon. When he raised his head and connected with Justin’s eyes, Justin felt his insides jump at the intelligence and sensuality of the gaze. “Sir…Captain, sir…” Justin bowed his head in respect.

Captain Jones nodded to his first mate and thanked him, telling him to leave. He waited until they were alone, then inspected this boy carefully. Justin had his eyes lowered at first, but couldn’t resist a peek. He studied this very large muscular male with three flintlock pistols in his baldric and a cutlass sword at his waistband. He was in complete awe of him. He knew this man had the polish of the Royal Navy and exuded an aura of perfect control and absolute power.
The Captain released a long slow exhaled sigh and asked, “What is your name, lad?”
“Justin Alexander Taylor, sir….at your service, sir.” He bowed.
“How did you get on board?”
“I hid in a barrel, sir…a barrel of apples.” He peeked down at his boots and tried to hide the apple mash still stuck to them.
“Why did you do this?”
Justin wanted to communicate his desire to sail so badly, he was about to cry from the frustration. He knelt before him and lifted his hand to kiss his golden seal ring. “Please let me sail with you. I beg you. I have waited all my life to do this. I cannot go back! Kill me, but do not send me back!”
“There are no boys allowed on board.”
Justin heard his calm deep voice, but he didn’t want to believe it could be over. How could his quest end so quickly? He knew what his father would do to him if he was forced to return. He’d be in agony for weeks from the beating. Tears welled in his eyes as he laid his head down on this man’s solid muscular lap. “Please, sir…I’ll do anything you ask. I am a good worker. I will never complain. I will be your servant. I will be your slave. Only please, don’t take me back.” He squeezed those thighs tightly in his hands.
The Captain urged Justin’s face up to see it. The rivers of tears ran down his jaw in glistening lines. He used his thumbs to brush them away from Justin’s cheeks softly.

Justin connected to that gaze, silently begging. He could feel the strength of this man, smell his masculine essence, and became aware of his incredibly sharp mind. He knew he was debating something, teetering on a decision. Justin remembered what the chubby clawed creature had said to him. Something about getting used to being handled and being allowed to stay on board. He glimpsed at the Captain’s tight breeches, then up into his brilliant sea-blue eyes once more. This man, he could handle being handled by. He cleared his throat and said, “I’m at your service, sir….in…in any capacity you please. All I ask in return is leave to remain…Can I beg you any harder? Make it any clearer? Sir??”
Captain Jones raised his eyebrows expressively. “I’ll not ask what you are implying. I may take it as an insult.” He nudged Justin to be able to stand. He was so tall he had to stoop over in the cramped space. He paced back and forth, then confronted those wet light blue eyes once more and said, “Why do you yearn this life? Do you think it is glamorous? It is filled with danger. And I don’t mean only from the battles. This boat, it is wrought with filth and disease. The men, they are like inmates, common thieves. They come for the prize and then squander it all on gambling and women in one single night. And you want to live among them? One look at you and you will be passed from one hungry hand to another. Why, my boy…did you have to be so flaming pretty?”
Justin’s face heated up with his blush. “If I was plain, would that make the difference?”
Captain Jones rubbed his face tiredly. He had no time for this and needed to focus on his attack of a loaded Spanish Galleon. He knew also, they were too far out at sea now to turn back to port. If they did, the opportunity would slip away to haul in the heavy treasure that that warship contained. Now he had to deal with this lovely young boy on board who he knew would be a bane to his crew. He inhaled and found that innocent gaze again. “Justin Alexander Taylor, whatever am I going to do with you?”
“I will walk the plank then, sir.” He lowered his head and pouted.
The Captain blinked in surprise. “Walk the plank?” He roared, bursting with laughter.
Justin widened his eyes in awe. “Is that so funny?”
“Come here, lad.” The Captain contained himself. He sat back down and reached out his hand.
Justin scrambled to his feet and stood before him, clasping it.
“I am afraid I am stuck with you for the time. But, I cannot watch over you night and day. How will you cope? Do you have a dagger?”
Justin lowered his head. “No, sir.”
The Captain went to his chest and unlocked it. He removed a cutlass sword and handed it to him. “When I cannot be near you, you can defend yourself. Let me remind you the code of conduct whilst on board. Every man shall obey my command. No man keeps a secret from the company. No gaming for money, and do not strike another man whilst on board. All quarrels are to be handled on shore with gun or sword. You will walk a fine line in defending yourself, Justin. Remember these rules or even I cannot protect you.”
“Yes, sir.” Justin started to get excited, fingering the handle of the blade.
“You will sleep in here. If you are let loose at nightfall with that mangy lot you will have a sexual disease by morning.”
“What??” Justin’s eyes widened. “Oh, lord…” He dropped to his knees and hugged the Captain around his thighs. “Thank you, sir….Thank you! I am forever indebted to you, sir…”
“All right, lad…” He tried to get out of Justin’s grip. “Let’s see if you thank me when we board broadside.”
“Yes, Captain…I will fight with you. You can count on me.”
The Captain lead Justin up to the main deck and called out to his men for attention. He knew by now word had spread of Justin’s presence and he wanted to address his crew about it. When they crowded around him he set Justin up onto a cannon so he could be seen. “This lad is Justin Taylor. He has managed to stowaway on board our ship. Until we can reach land and return him he will be here with us.”
Justin swallowed nervously as the men’s eyes were on him. He thought he’d never seen a more motley bunch in his life. They appeared very raw and dangerous and more than a few had pieces missing from them. He fingered the hilt of his cutlass, trying to feel security from it.
“Leave him be! We won’t be at sea for an unreasonably long journey, so curb your appetites! Save it for the whores!” the Captain shouted.
The men glanced around at each other with smirking grins. Justin shifted uncomfortably, unconsciously pressing his legs tightly together.
“He’s going to pull his weight. He’ll work as hard as any of you. Just let him get on with it and let’s make this the one broadside that pays!”
The crew hooted in a cheer. Captain Jones turned to Justin and said, “It’s no guarantee, lad. You just do your best.” He gestured to a tall slender, clean shaven, fair-haired man to come forth. “This is James Peckham. He’s our pilot, and you need obey him like a captain.” Justin nodded obediently. The Captain brought over another man, heavy and squat with a dark beard and black thick wavy hair. “This here is our quartermaster, John Tucker. If he tells you to do something, you do it.”
“Aye, sir. Err, we met briefly,” Justin mumbled, clearing his throat and trying to remember their names.
Another heavy-set bearded man was waved over. “This is Thomas Black. He’s our boatswain, and Jack Cromwell is our first mate. These are my trusted men. You report any assault to them if I am not at hand. But, you obey them with the same respect as you would me.”
“Yes, sir, Captain, sir.” Justin’s eyes were wide as he connected to every critical gaze around him.
“Right, carry on. Peckham, come with me.” He and the pilot disappeared into the Captain’s cabin.
Justin stood idly and stared up at the sails. A flag was flying. He expected it to be black. How odd. It seemed like a Spanish flag. A lookout was perched aloft the enormous main mast. Justin shivered at how high the man was from the deck. “Blimey!”
“Come on, lad. Ye’ve work to do.” Quartermaster Tucker tapped him. “First ye help out the cook, then ye come back and get busy learning how to tend the rigging.”
Justin sighed and followed after him. He passed many a man as he moved down to the kitchen. Several hands found his bottom. He stiffened up and ignored them, keeping close to Tucker.
The cook was leaning into a large brick-lined chimney with huge iron pots in it. He peered up from his kettle and found the lad there.
“Aye, Smithy, we got ye a hand.” Tucker nudged Justin in front of him.
“Take off yar fancy waistcoat, boy,” Smithy shouted.
Justin shed his clean coat and handed it to Tucker. Tucker’s eyebrows raised in surprise.
Justin stared back at his impatient expression. “Oh, sorry, sir. What was I to do with it?”
Tucker growled, “Take it to the Captain’s cabin later. I’m no cabin boy.” He tossed it onto a bench.
“Sorry, sir…” Justin blushed crimson. He watched Tucker leave and stood there gazing at the cook.
Smithy shoved a paring knife at him and sat him down at a wooden bench. “Peel.” He pointed to a barrel of potatoes.
Justin rolled up his sleeves, and sighed. He had peeled about a dozen potatoes when he started to feel sick. He hadn’t noticed the rocking of the boat before, having been preoccupied with his fear. Now, sitting still, trying to focus, the shifting from side to side became very noticeable. The sweat broke out on his forehead and a wave of nausea washed over him. His belly was empty, yet he was sure he was about to reject its contents. He grabbed the pail he was tossing peels into and wretched.
Smithy spun around at the sound. He started to laugh. “First time, asea, little laddie?”
Justin sat up and wiped his face. “Oh, blimey…I need air.”
Smithy tried his best to be sympathetic. “Ye go get a breath on deck. Come right back after.”
Justin nodded and tried to stand. He grabbed at the table and steadied himself as they rode over some rough waves. He sat back down and leaned over the bucket. When he just gagged and nothing came up he tried to stop the sensations long enough to stand. “Is it always this rough?”
Smithy burst out laughing. “This ain’t rough, me laddie. This is calm seas. Go on, get yarself some salt air.”
“I can’t.” Justin could taste the black water in his mouth.
Smithy made his way over to him and stood him up. He helped him to the passageway and tried to lean him against the wall. “I’ve got too much to do to be tending ye. Ye make yar way.”
“Aye, if I can find me legs!”
Smithy caught sight of one of the crew and shouted for him to come over. “Samuel! Look after the lad. He’s a bit of a landlubber.”
The gunner laughed in amusement and wrapped his arm around Justin‘s narrow waist. “Come on, my pretty boy.” They made it to the open air and Justin felt immensely better to breathe the sunshine. He leaned against the gunwall and stared out at the horizon, the only thing that wasn’t moving. “Do you get used to it?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Should do. It don’t get any better, I fear, my pretty.” He reached out to pet the long fringe back from Justin’s eyes and felt his hot sweat. “Sit yarself down.”
Justin slid down to the deck. All the men that were tending the rigging and sails were laughing at him. “I’m the fool,” he sighed.
Samuel knelt near him. “Aye, for now. It’s a boring road we follow. Nothing for amusement until we spot the galleon’s mast. So, ye, my pretty, are our entertainment.”
Justin ran his hand back through his long hair. “Lovely. Just lovely.” His cheeks heated up in his embarrassment, washing color through the paleness he had.
“Aye, that be it. Lovely, describes you best.” He caressed Justin’s face.
Tucker walked by and paused to peer over the gunner’s shoulder at Justin. “Shouldn’t ye be in the galley, boy?”
“Yes, sir.” Justin tried to get to his feet.
Samuel stood and smiled at the Quartermaster. “Sea sickness, Johnnie.”
“Aye, Sam, that it is. Come on, lad…off to work.”
Justin nodded and tried to inhale the fresh air a few times before heading back inside. They watched after him with a smile on their lips.
“This will be the voyage from hell for the lad.” Samuel shook his head.
“Aye, as it is for the rest of us,” Tucker agreed.
Justin stumbled his way back to the kitchen and found several of the men in it eating some biscuits whilst their meal was prepared. They stopped talking to stare at him.
Justin sat back down and lifted his knife and a potato. He was starving, now that he didn’t feel quite as sick. He peeked up as they munched and wondered if he could get himself some of those cakes.
One of the men read his thoughts. He brought one over to him and sat next to him. “Here, lad.”
Justin sighed with relief and thanked him. He bit into it hungrily. He felt the man’s gaze and was trying to get used to all the lusty ogling. It was very uncomfortable being the object of sixty rough men’s desires. It was something he never even considered having to deal with. He was a male, so he assumed he would be accepted as one. He didn’t think he was particularly handsome, though he usually caught many ladies’ eyes when he was out and about.
“Justin Taylor, I’m William Davis. One of yar ship’s gunners. Ye can call me Will.”
Justin smiled at him. “Will. Thanks again for the biscuit. I felt a bit sick and now I feel better with this in me stomach.”
Will smiled and handed him another one, peeking up at Smithy to see if he would get shouted at for distracting the boy from his duty.
Justin took it and munched happily. “How’d you lose your ear?” He pointed to the left side of his head.
Will grinned and said, “T’was bit off in a fight. Naught to worry, lad. I won it.”
Justin stopped chewing and stared at him. “Why…why do so many men have missing pieces?”
Will could not resist that innocent gaze. He caressed his hair softly, enjoying its clean silky texture. “Aye, lad, after a broadside there be many a gaping wound that can go bad and rot. The ship’s doctor has no choice. He hacks the bad bit, burns what’s left, and we go on. Hopefully ye shall keep all yar lovely parts.” He grinned hungrily at Justin.
Justin tried to swallow down his dry throat. The caressing had gotten more amorous and the gaze, more intense. “I…have to get back to work now.”
“Aye, ye do, before Smithy hollers at us both. If ye are ever hungry, ye come to me. I’ll see to it ye are fed properly and without hesitation.”
Justin watched as Will’s rough callused hand smoothed down his cream colored blouse.
“Aye! Will! Let the lad finish! I got a shipload of hungry mouths to feed!” Smithy roared.
Will laughed at the predicted chastising. He stood and gazed down at Justin, smiling sweetly. “Ye have any problems, ye comes to me.” He poked his thumb into his own chest.
Justin knew that would never happen. He tried to smile and nodded, then got back to his potatoes, keeping his eyes to himself.

Everyone was resting after their meal. The deck was loaded with reclining, scratching bodies as the mid-day sun burned too hot for anyone to motivate. Justin felt drowsy as well and wondered where he could close his eyes and feel safe. Several of his shipmates were waving him over, patting the open spots next to them. He tried not to catch their drooling sneers. He passed the Pilot as he made his way down to the Captain’s cabin.
“You taking a caulk, lad? You look exhausted,” Peckham said.
“Aye, sir. I can’t keep me lids open.”
Peckham pat his bottom and went on his way.
Justin scuffed to the Captain’s cabin and peered in. The Captain was there talking with his boatswain, Thomas Black. Justin apologized for the interruption and bowed his head. “I was wondering, Captain, if I could just rest here a bit.”
“Come in, lad. Rest your bones.” The Captain gestured to the bunk.
Justin nodded in gratitude and collapsed on the bed, drifting off to sleep.
The Boatswain gazed at his Captain and whispered, “He’s got the men in a right state. Every word exchanged is about the lad. Peckham said several more weeks to the coast of the American main, before we even begin to spot her mast.”
“He’ll be all right. We’ll get him back whole.” The Captain peered over at the sleeping boy.
“What these lads think…some fairy story adventure asea. He’s found out it was a bit more than he asked for.” He stroked his beard softly as he spoke.
Captain Jones smiled to himself. “We all were lads once, Thomas, looking for a new life. I thought the Royal Navy was my fairy tale. He’s not the only one disillusioned, my friend.”
Black connected to his Captain’s sad eyes, then nodded. “I’ll leave ye to it, then. Get ye some rest, Richard.”
He watched his boatswain leave and then turned back to the bunk where Justin was sleeping his worries away. He stood and approached the bed staring down at him wistfully.
Justin stirred after a short hour’s nap. He blinked open his eyes and yawned. He felt something warm near him and raised his head. The Captain was sound asleep next to him. Justin felt his heart quicken and smiled in delight. He leaned up and gazed down at his handsome features. He felt very fortunate to have this guardian angel hovering over him. He positioned himself comfortably and stared at the Captain as he got his rest. He enjoyed his high cheekbones and full soft lips, his dark eyebrows and long glittering lashes. His brown hair was very thick and full, falling out of its ribbon. His shirt was open on his bronze chest and his breeches were very tight on his large muscular legs. He had the tremendous urge to touch him.
When the Captain opened his eyes he found two bright blue ones attached to his own. “How long have you been awake?” he asked Justin.
Justin smiled dreamily at him. “Not long, sir. Just watching over you, sir.”
Captain Jones found that very amusing. “Off to work. First check with Smithy, then Boatswain Black.”
“Aye, sir.” Justin smiled at him sweetly, then climbed over him, sliding across his body, out of the bunk.
The Captain watched him leave and then laid back, staring at wooden beams of the ceiling.
Justin poked his head into the galley. “Oi! You be needin’ me??”
“Aye! I could always use the help!” Smithy shouted.
Justin rolled up his sleeves. “What should I do?”
“Go fetch two chickens, the ones what no cackle fruit are under. Take ‘em up to the deck and kill ‘em, then down here to pluck.”
Justin nodded and made his way to the hold. He balanced with both hands on the walls down the passage, passing several of the crew who were coming back up after getting some of the bottled beer. He tried not to meet their eyes until one slammed into him with his shoulder. He shouted out in anger and realized it was the man with the disfigured hand. “Watch yarself, lad…watch yarself,” Ben Hornbolt laughed.

Justin sneered in revulsion and avoided him. He found the storeroom and wondered where the chickens were. He listened for them and followed the sound of their clucking. He lifted them off their boxes and couldn’t believe how many had eggs under them. He finally found two that were barren and held one in each hand by the neck. He, at least, knew how to kill a chicken. His father had shown him that years ago. He carried them up to the deck and searched for a likely spot to do the dirty deed. The place was overloaded with male bodies. There were twice the amount of crewmen the ship could hold comfortably. He knew that’s what they needed to win the battles. Two to one ratios. It just felt so crowded all the time. And they stunk. He sensed all their eyes on him again. He hated that sensation. The entertainment. What nonsense. He released one of the birds to get a hold of the other. It clucked and flapped all over the deck. “Blimey!” he shouted as he decided what to do next. The men were roaring with laughter and offering no assistance. Justin figured one bird flapping around was enough. He drew his cutlass and hacked off the other chicken’s head. When he released it, it too ran around the deck, headless. He gaped at it in horror.
The First mate heard the hilarity and climbed up the main mast to have a look around. He found Justin chasing two chickens. He shook his head. “Argh, at least he’s keeping the crew amused.”
James Peckham was trying to get a read on the stars as they started to light the sky. He heard an odd sound and peered down to see a decapitated chicken in its death throws. Justin was right behind it, panting. He peeked up sheepishly. “Sorry, Mr. Pilot, sir.”
He picked up the dead bird by the feet and raised on tiptoe to look for the second one.
“How did that one get away from you?? He’s not got his bleedin’ head!” He laughed heartily.
Justin’s cheeks were on fire with his blush. The men were shouting rude things at him the entire chase. “I don’t know, sir.” He hurried away and searched for the other one.
The Captain came up behind his pilot and caught the tail end of his laughter. “What passed?”
Peckham twisted around and controlled himself. “That Justin. He’s really quite an amusing lad. I have to say, I’m almost glad he’s on board. He makes for high comedy.”
The Captain’s eyes crinkled into a smile. “Yes, he has endeared himself on the crew. So much so, I’d say he’d be a hard one to see leave.”
They raised their chins to him racing by. The white feathers just out of reach. The crew was rolling with laughter. Captain Jones and Pilot Peckham covered their smiles and tried to contain it.
Justin finally dove on top of the escaped bird. He gathered it up in his arms and caught his breath. He was cursing at it angrily and struggled to keep its wings close. He carried it to the same spot he cut the last one and kneeled on its body whilst stretching out its neck. He found his cutlass and lifted it to hack away. When he was done, he wouldn’t release the thing, lest it run off on him. He heard cheering around him. He raised his wide blue eyes to see the men shouting at him, praising him for finally completing his task. He didn’t know if he should be flattered or more embarrassed. He let up on the dead thing slowly and made sure it didn’t move. He sighed with relief and carried them back to the galley. Hands touched him, patting his back and handling his bottom as they appeared to want to congratulate him. He grated his teeth and tried to ignore it. He couldn’t very well fight every battle, every grope. He’d have a ship filled with enemies. He had to let it go. He !
got passed the last fondling soot covered fingers and made it to the galley. He curled his lip. He knew the nasty job of plucking was still ahead.

When he finally was released of his chores for the night he was filthy and exhausted. He was asked to clean up after the horde. And they were messy eaters. Most used their soiled hands and slopped the tables. He had to wash the bowls and then mop the floors. The Captain insisted on keeping the ship as clean as possible to avoid disease, especially the galley. He made his way to the Captain’s cabin and poured a small amount of fresh water into a basin. He stripped off his sweat and salt soaked clothing and began to bathe himself, luxuriating in the refreshing cool liquid.
When the door swung open he spun around and covered himself in a panic.

The First mate was searching for his Captain. His immediate impression as he came in, was of a young maiden’s narrow back, her long brown hair, and smooth slender legs. He gasped at that image. When Justin turned his head to him he immediately realized who it was. “Shiver me timbers, lad! I thought we had netted a mermaid! What in blazes are ye up to?”
“A bath! I’m a mess!” He found his blouse and lifted it to cover himself modestly.
Cromwell grinned. “A bath. Ye’ll find less and less effort in that soon. There just ain’t much fresh water. And she‘ll turn on us, lad.”
“I know. I’m sorry, sir. I’m not used to being so filthy.”
“I was looking for our Captain. I’ll leave ye to it.” He went to close the door, then took one last peek as Justin turned his back and continued. He inspected his long flowing brown wavy hair, those narrow hips, and tight buttocks. He shook his head and left.
Justin stood tall and poured the water basin over his head, through his hair. He groaned at the relief, then reached for his pants and breeches.
The Captain had just come from the deck and speaking with his pilot to make sure they were still on course. He was exhausted and came through his cabin door. Justin was leaning over to reach for his breeches. His white rump was soon covered by the light fabric which was clinging to his damp skin. The Captain blinked as the same illusion appeared before his eyes as it did for his first mate. When he realized it was Justin he rubbed his face and sighed, “And I’ve not been at sea more than a day…lord help me.”
Justin twisted around and smiled at him. “Captain, sir…just a quick rinse. Sorry, sir.”
The Captain tossed off his hat and waistcoat. “Don’t apologize, lad. Use the water before she turns on us. It’s no good full of mold and slime.”
“Oh, right then. I will.” He climbed onto the bunk with a bounce and felt cool and refreshed with his head wet.
The Captain sat down and unbuckled his boot.
“Let me help you, sir!” Justin scrambled to assist. He knelt before the Captain and removed his boots for him.
The Captain noticed some deep scarring on Justin’s back. He tried to study them as he crouched down before him.
When Justin felt his touch on them he froze, head down.
“Who did this to you?”
“Me father.”
“Your father beat you this way??”
Justin bit his lip and nodded.
“Turn ‘round.”
Justin obeyed, feeling emotional suddenly.
Captain Jones ran his fingers over very deep scars. Whipping marks from an extremely severe thrashing. “Why would a father do this to his son?”
Justin didn’t know the answer. He blinked and it caused the tears to spill.
When he received no reply, the Captain tried to urge Justin to face him. Justin did with great reluctance, wanting to hide his tears. The Captain’s finger lifted his chin up to him. “You’re a good lad,” he told him softly.
Justin burst out crying. He had never cried about it before. He had bottled it in, toughed out the abuse, and tried to let it harden him into a man.
The Captain brought him closer onto his lap and held him in an embrace. He squeezed him and rocked him, rubbing his warm back gently, shushing him. “All right, lad….all right.”
“I’m sorry, Captain. I’m not man enough for this crew. I’ve made a fool of myself.”
“Shhh, you have not. You have done very well today. Better than I have expected.”
Justin moved back from his embrace and stared up at him. His irises were dilated and large, his wet lashes were dark and long and framed very light blue eyes. His cheeks were blushing and red like rouge, his hair was drying in long soft waves over his forehead and shoulders.
Captain Jones held his breath at that sight. The boy was so incredibly beautiful, so innocent, so sensual, so vulnerable.
Justin stared into his gaze. This man was everything he wanted to be; big, strong, respected, intelligent, handsome, and very well liked.
“Right. Off to bed, now.” He was given a little nudge.
“Yes, Captain, sir.” He released his hold on him and climbed into the bunk. He laid on his side and stared at the Captain, waiting to be joined in the bed.
The Captain cleared his throat and took off his blouse, then doused the lamp and moved next to him, facing away from him.
Justin swallowed his emotions down and raised his hand. He touched his warm rounded shoulder. “Thank you, sir.”
The Captain felt the caress and an energy passed through the point of contact. He restrained an urge he had to take advantage of his position and enjoy what so many of his crewmates were fantasizing about. “Don’t thank me, lad. Just go to sleep.”
“Captain, sir??”
“Yes, Justin?”
“What is a mermaid, sir?”
The Captain’s smile spread across his lips. “Why do you ask that? Have you been compared to one?”
Justin was glad for the darkness for he blushed crimson. “Errr, aye, sir.”
“She is a lovely maiden, half woman, half fish.”
“Oi?? Which half?”
“Top half is the lady, lad…go to sleep, Justin.”
‘Half fish?’ he thought. He wondered if they would see such a creature. He sighed and cuddled into the bedding happily, stroking that broad muscular bronze back lightly with his fingertips. “Aye, my Captain. And a good night to you, sir.“ He dozed off soon after.


Chapter 2


When he awoke he was alone. He stretched and yawned, then dressed after relieving himself in a chamber pot. He felt his stomach grumble and headed down to the storeroom for some tack and water.
He rummaged around and stuck a biscuit in his mouth, crunching on it happily, an apple in his pocket, and a flask of water under his arm. He turned to leave and was blocked in. “Get out of me way,” he said.
“Ye’ll be wise to stop avoiding me, me pretty,” Ben Hornbolt said.
Justin stared into the lecherous eyes of the chubby, claw-handed man. “You heard the Captain! I am to be left alone!” But he shivered none the less.
The man spied behind him, then closed the storeroom door. It was almost in blackness now, save for one covered lamp.
Justin dropped the things in his hand and touched the hilt of his sword. “Let me be! You’ll get nothing from me!”
Ben drew closer. “Ye cut me whilst on board and ye’ll see a very painful death.”
Justin remembered the Captain’s warning. He released the hilt and backed away into the crates. “No! Whatever you think you shall get from me! The answer is no!”
Ben’s sneering laughter revolted and horrified him. Justin moved as far as he could from him, deeper into the over filled room, until he hit some oak casks. “Why, in the name of the King, are you doing this to me??” he cried.
“I’ve not done a thing to ye yet, lad! Come to me, ye lovely creature…let us both enjoy ourselves.” Ben reached out his grubby claws and made some grotesque sounds.
Justin grit his teeth as the beast took himself out of his soiled trousers, he was fully erect. “No! I will tell you once again! No!!”
He dove on Justin and pinned him against the oak casks, tearing at his breeches and blouse to get at his skin. Justin was pressed painfully against the splintery wood. He growled and battled fiercely as a very strongly built fiend tore open his clothing.

He felt that hardness moving closer. The sensation of it against his legs sickened him. He heard that crackling, foul smelling breath in his ear. He twisted and wrenched to get away as sharp fingernails and protruding iron nail heads sliced his skin. He roared, denying any defeat, though his strength was waning fast as this man was much more fit for battle than was he.

Smithy made his way down to the hold for the daily task of feeding the crew. He was followed by a score of men all intent on some tack and ale. They heard angry shouting coming from the storeroom and hurried their pace. They burst in and found Justin growling fiercely as the beast attempted a savage rape.
Ben Hornbolt spun around to a room full of furious eyes. He stopped, and gathered himself up quickly to explain. “Argh! The boy asked me for it! He lured me down here! Honest, me lads! He begged me for it!”
Justin collapsed to the floor and covered his face.
Will Davis was among them. He and one of the other gunners grabbed Hornbolt violently. “Ye spineless scallywag! Yar about to be our first keel haul!”
Hornbolt wailed in horror at the suggestion and tried to fight to free himself. Justin curled up into a tight knot, his knees to his chest, his eyes sealed shut. When he felt a light tap on his shoulder he flinched and snarled up at it. Smithy and the remaining men were crouching down to him. “All right, lad. Yar all right.”
They urged him to stand. He was trembling so badly he had to lean on them for support. His clothing was in tatters.
“I got ‘im.” One of the gunners, Henry, held Justin around the waist and lead him up to the Captain’s cabin.
Tucker and Peckham had heard the tale and hurried to see Justin. The accused man was being detained on deck until a vote and decision could be made.
The Quartermaster shoved open the door to find Justin with the First mate and the gunner. “What’s passed? Tell me the tale in full.”
First mate Cromwell sighed and glanced over at the boy. “Ben Hornbolt attempted to molest our young Justin in the hold.”
The Pilot asked Justin, “How, lad?”
Justin turned his face away and didn’t speak.
Cromwell moved closer to him and faced Justin’s back to the Quartermaster and Pilot. He raised up Justin’s torn blouse and showed them the fresh bruising and scratches. “There’s more.” He rubbed Justin’s back in comfort. “I’ll just show ‘em quick, lad.”
Justin barely nodded and bowed his head.
The First mate lowered Justin’s breeches to show the amount of force he was subjected to. He was covered in marks and raised scratches.
“Did he get in ye, boy?” Tucker asked.
He shook his head, no, not meeting anyone’s eye.
“That’s enough,” Peckham said, “I need no more proof.” He could not contain the rage in his voice.
“Where’s our Captain?” Tucker asked.
“On deck listening to Hornbolt’s tale,” Cromwell said.
“Someone stay with the lad, I need to see the Captain,” Tucker grabbed Peckham and they left quickly.
Captain Jones was listening to Ben Hornbolt’s shaky story. How Justin had lured him to the storeroom and made obscene gestures to him. That he had tried to resist Justin’s invitation, but he was only human. That the lad had his eye on him from the first time they met. Will Davis and his mates were holding Hornbolt’s arms painfully, allowing him no movement. The rest of the crew was standing around in a tight mass, listening. Tucker and Peckham moved to the center of the crowd to meet with their Captain who nodded to them and shouted, “Tell the men whatever you learned.”
Peckham raised his head and announced, “Our Justin is covered in whelts from this dog! He fought off his best and this bilge rat was unsuccessful in raping the lad!”
A low angry murmur encircled them.
The Captain knew something like this was inevitable. These men were from the gutter. They had no control of their urges, nor did they have respect for a young one or a woman.
“Where is Justin?” the Captain asked his pilot.
“In your cabin, sir. Should we put this to a vote?”
The Captain scanned the angry mob. He glanced back at Hornbolt who was about to meet hell face on. He was sweating profusely and very white, his hands were clenched and bloodless as the ruthless hold on him constricted his veins.

There was a moving ripple in the mob. They all twisted around to see Justin being lead through his shipmates. He was mortified and had his head down, trying to disappear under his long fringe. The tears had dried on his face. The First mate thought he had a right to know what was going on and to speak in his own defense if he needed to.
At the very sight of Justin’s devastated expression the crew grew enraged. Ben Hornbolt started to beg for his life. “Have mercy on me soul!” he moaned.
The Captain had no energy for this. All he wanted was the bounty of treasure and to retire on it. He rubbed his exhausted eyes in frustration.
Will Davis started shouting, “A vote! A vote!”
The men joined in the noise.
The Quartermaster moved front and center. “A vote then! All say if ye think sailor Ben Hornbolt is guilty of the attempt vulgar assault on our Justin Taylor, say aye!!” He heard the thunderous roar. “All those who think our Justin Taylor lured Ben Hornbolt to entertain vulgar deeds, say aye!”
It was silent.
Tucker shouted loudly to be heard by all, “Then we find Ben Hornbolt guilty and subject him to punishment!”
Again another roar was heard. Ben Hornbolt lost some more color and his knees weakened and gave out.
“What punishment do ye all see fit?” Tucker shouted, “Marooning? Hanging from the yardarm? Or keel haul??” He tried to focus in on the shouts and then quieted them. “Keel hauling it shall be!”
Ben Hornbolt screamed in terror.
Justin was numb. He couldn’t concentrate on anything and the shouting was just a blur in his ears. All he wanted was to go to the cabin and curl up into a ball and hide.
The Captain made his way back to his quarters. He grabbed his pilot and brought him with him.
Will and his gunner mates started tying Ben Hornbolt up to toss him overboard. They pinned him down and wrapped him up in coiled ropes.
Cromwell stood behind Justin, his hands on his shoulders. “This is for ye, lad.”
Justin raised his eyes wearily. “What is for me?”
Hornholt was thrown into the water with a scream of terror. The men laughed and jeered in excitement.
Justin’s eyes widened in panic. “No! What are they doing to him??”
Hornbolt was hoisted up against the sharp barnacle studded hull and dragged in the deep green water.
Justin heard his screams of agony and covered his ears. “Oh, dear Lord! Stop!! NO!!!”
Captain Jones showed Peckham into his cabin. They paused when they heard the shrieking and then closed the door. “I feared this would happen. I need them to focus on the reason we are all here. That loaded Spanish Galleon. Justin is an unhealthy distraction. How many men, you reckon, will we be dragging from His Revenge?”
Peckham sat down next to his Captain. “No more, sir. This will be their warning. You didn’t see what Hornbolt did to our Justin, sir, did you?”
The Captain raised his tired eyelids. “No, I did not. The boy is too pretty. He tests these men daily. I wish he’d never come on board. We have lost a man that could be lifting a sword for us.”
“One man. It isn’t the first time a ship has lost its crew member. Typhoid is rampant among most. They are not dying off, Captain.”
Captain Jones rubbed his face in frustration.
“What is it, Richard?” Peckham touched his arm lightly. “You miss your Katherine back home?”
The Captain sat back and exhaled a long breath. “Aye, James. That I do. I wanted this to be the one I retire on. I need these men to be at their sharpest. Now look at what we have.” They heard another blood curdling scream.
“You worry too much. Hornbolt was old and full of malice. He is no great loss, Richard.”
The Captain raised his light eyes to his trusted pilot. “You get us there, James. Get us there to that flamin’ galleon. I want my hands on those pieces of eight.”
“You’ll have them, sir. You’ll have them.” He smiled at his handsome Captain, touching his arm.
“What do we do about Justin?”
Peckham shrugged. “Naught. He’s a good lad. He does his work with no complaint.”
The Captain nodded. “Aye, that he does, but now with new battle scars. What good will he be in a broadside if I am to be watching and protecting him from harm?”
“You won’t be. He fought off Ben Hornbolt and the rat was twice his weight. Hornbolt never raped him, Richard. The boy fought well.”
He met his pilot’s sharp eyes, thinking about what he said.
Justin covered his mouth in horror as the lifeless body of Ben Hornbolt was raised for the last time out of the sea. He was tied to the yardarm where he swung with the rocking of the boat. His skin was almost taken clean off by the ragged hull. He turned his face away and stifled a heaving gag. A hand rubbed his back affectionately. “Come, lad. Me thinks ye need an ale.”
Will Davis held his hand and brought him to the galley. He left him seated at a bench and returned with several bottles tucked under his arms. The men filled up the room and all enjoyed a drink after the punishment was completed.
Justin’s eyes were distant as he drank the warm beer.
Will smiled at him and then winked at his gunner mates. “Ye needs to develop a stomach, lad.”
Justin found his eyes. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”
“Nay! Yar! Ye’ve gone on account like the rest of us! When yar pockets jingle with silver pieces, ye’ll have that clever grin back on yer cupid’s bow lips!” He tapped his bottle, “Drink up!”
Justin gulped the beer down, trying to block out the memory of those hideous screams the tortured man made.
“Do ye need me to look at ye, lad?”
Justin raised his head up to a man with spectacles. “Who are you?”
“I’m, Jason, the ship’s doctor.”
Justin’s eyes widened in panic. “Noooo! Get away from me!! Don’t hack anything off me!!”
The men roared with laughter as the doctor straightened his back and rubbed his chin, pondering the comment. “I merely was offering a salve for yar bruises!”
Justin leaned away from him and into one of the other gunners. “Oh, no…thank you. I don’t need anything.”
The gunner wrapped his arms around Justin as if he was protecting him. “I’ll save ye, laddie!” Henry laughed and hugged him tight.
Will was wiping his eyes from the hilarity, checking the expressions on the rest of the crew around them. They were all smiling and chuckling at him. Will never remembered a voyage so filled with laughter. This boy was a good luck charm to them. He was distracting them from the tedious boredom they faced until that mast was seen on the horizon. “Lad, ye are as priceless as a letter of Marque.”
Justin tilted his head curiously at him.
“Drink up! Here, have another.” A second bottle was placed before him.
Justin swallowed the strong beer thirstily as the men around him began chatting to one another in a low murmur. Soon he was feeling it in his head. He had very little to eat and was happy to drink himself forgetful. He tuned into the conversations around him, nodding when addressed and answering any question best he could. Will kept him sated with too much beer and little food as Smithy worked on getting a stew together for the hungry men. Justin had a silly grin on his face as his level of inebriation soared with the seagulls. He started humming to himself, then singing a tune. The few around him stopped their chatter to stare at him. He grinned at their attention and sung more boldly. “Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye!!!”
Will and his gunner mates nudged each other and urged Justin on.
He felt hands prodding him to stand, then he belted out his little ditty with a robust energy. “Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie!!!”
Captain Jones and Pilot Peckham made their way to the galley when they heard the singing. They glanced at each other curiously and stepped in. Justin was leading the song as the men joined in. Captain Jones spied back over his shoulder at a smiling Pilot. “You see? He is good for their morale,” Peckham said.
The Captain had to agree. He leaned against the galley’s wall and listened to the singing.
“When the pie was opened the birds began to sing!!!” Justin belted out his lovely soprano voice into the stale damp air of the enclosed galley. “Wasn’t that a dainty dish to set before a king!”
When he was done, he had a giddy grin plastered on his lips. He raised his half full bottle and felt the pat of several hands on his back in gratitude. He choked and blinked when one squeezed his bum, goosing him. When he spun around to find the culprit he spotted the Captain in the room, smiling adoringly at him. He went into a deep crimson flush of warmth. The man was staring directly at him whilst listening to his quartermaster. He was nodding in understanding, his eyes never leaving Justin’s.

Justin felt the sensual aura of him. The man had enormous presence. He stuck out from the rest of the crew with his clean shaven angular jaw and full head of brown hair which was pulled back in a ribbon away from his brilliant crisp sea blue eyes. He seemed to tower over the rest with his incredible height. It amazed Justin how some men gave off a presence. You could feel this man when he walked into a room. He was the type you would follow anywhere at any cost. Some men had that magic about them. Captain Jones was one of them.
Will Davis studied Justin’s expression and where it was aimed. He grumbled to himself and tapped Justin to get his attention.
Justin wrest his eyes away reluctantly and tilted over the table to the gunner.
“Aye, ye falling for our Captain, me pretty boy?”
“Oi?? Me? Don’t be daft!” Justin sat back down and drank his beer.
Will leaned over the table to him. “Don’t get yar sight set on him, lad. He’s a lovely lady waiting on him.”
Justin felt his heart crack just a bit. He straightened out his features and shrugged it off. “You must be mad. I have nothing but respect for him. He is my Captain. Now, when do we get to eat??”
Will studied his shaky denial. “If ye be looking for affection, look no further, me pretty.”
Justin ignored the comment and reached for a bowl of stew.

He was assigned clean up with the cook as the men left to attend their own chores. He rinsed the wooden bowls and stacked them in a crate. Smithy thanked him and sent him on his way. He scuffed out to the upper deck and inhaled the cooler twilight into his lungs. He peeked down at himself and tried to tuck in his blouse which had been torn in the attack. He managed to straighten himself up and combed his hair back from his face with his fingers. He heard the loud chatter of gulls and moved passed the men tending the large main sail to see if there was a reason for all the noise. He stopped in his tracks to find them feeding on the body that still hung from the yardarm. He covered his mouth and twisted away.
“Aye, it’s making me sick as well, lad.” Tucker took out his cutlass and hacked at the rope. The body splashed into the sea and vanished. “She’s all gone now.” The Quartermaster pat his head. “Ye’ve had a trying day. Go to bed, Justin Taylor.”
He nodded, trying not to feel sick. He scuffed tiredly to the Captain’s cabin and found him shaving his face in a looking glass. He was trying to time his strokes with the movement of the ship. He spotted Justin and shouted, “Oi! Dump the chamber pot before you bed down!”
Justin curled his lip at the thought. He lifted the little latch that held it steady and wrapped his arm around it, holding his breath. The Captain held open the door for him, then went back to his task.
Justin walked as slowly as he could to the poopdeck. He was praying he’d not splash any on himself. He made it to the rail and dumped it out, then breathed a sigh of relief. He brought it back down and into the cabin. Captain Jones was wiping his face now and smiled at him. “You get it there without a disaster?”
Justin re-secured it onto the floor plank and put the lid on it. “Yes, sir…” he sighed with relief.
The Captain was surprised. He expected him to return covered in it. “Good job, lad.”
“Thank you, Captain, sir…” Justin said softly. He watched as the Captain unfurled the ribbon in his hair and shook out its length. He then took a comb to it, still in the mirror’s reflection. Justin melted inside. He was afraid to blink.
Captain Jones set his comb aside and started unbuttoning his blouse. He raised his head to Justin and smiled sweetly at him. “How are you, lad? You’ve had a terrible day.”
Justin shrugged, his eyes wide and luminous as he stared at this handsome man.
The Captain sighed and laid his shirt over a chair. He approached Justin and pet the hair back from his face. “I didn’t see what Hornbolt had done to you, Justin. I know what you must have endured at home from your father. This attack was so brutal to you. I want to see to it you are all right.”
“I…I am all right.” He cleared his throat and kept staring into those blue eyes.
“Come on, let’s have a look,” the Captain gestured.
Justin lowered his head and opened his blouse, removing it. He set it on top of the Captain’s on the chair.
Captain Jones grate his teeth at what he found. “Lay down, boy.”
Justin scuffed to the bunk and laid flat, face down, his arms over his head.
The Captain located a jar that the doctor had given him on the off chance that Justin would allow him to medicate him. He sat next to him and took out a slather.
Justin felt the cream soothing his angry skin. He let out a deep sigh and relaxed with the kind of nurturing he’d never experienced before. Not even from his own mother.
“Lower this.”
Justin leaned up and opened his breeches, tugging them down.
Captain Jones had no idea how badly he had been bruised. He was very glad now, that Hornbolt had gotten what he deserved. This was grossly unfair to the lad.
Justin felt that large masculine hand rubbing an herbal smelling liniment over him. He was so relieved he could cry. He unwound his tight muscles and soul. That palm smoothed over his back, down his spine to his bottom, then he felt both palms moving in a circular pattern, one on each cheek. His moaned in delight and grew very excited.
The Captain’s mind wandered off. He was dreaming of home and the life that awaited him after this last voyage. Of his warm hearth and the smell of cooking fat and wheat bread. Of his woman’s sweet smile and loving embrace.
Justin froze as those wonderful hands moved down the backs of his thighs, the heat from them made his skin light on fire. They massaged him lovingly, making him forget any ache or pain with the flash of sensuality and desire. He tried to breathe normally, though he started to draw air in and out too quickly.
The Captain dazed off at that flesh color he was caressing, admiring how tight the skin was, how tone the muscles were under it. How he craved his Katherine and her warm wet heat.
Justin tried to swallow. He was hard as a rock now. He, very slowly, raised his head to try and peek over his shoulder. He found the Captain’s contented gaze, a softly focused smile. “Oh, lord…” he moaned to himself.
The Captain felt him shift and was brought back to the present. He sat straight and watched him.
Justin had no idea what to do. He leaned up and rolled to his side. “Captain…”
“Yes, Justin?” The Captain smiled sweetly at him as he wiped off his hands.
Justin lost his nerve and edged his breeches up to cover his hardness. “Nothing, sir.”
Captain Jones stood and doused the lamp. He climbed onto the bunk and exhaled a long tired breath.
Justin moved to lean on his Captain’s warm side. “Thank you, sir….It felt really nice…I mean, really nice.”
“I’m glad, Justin…good night, lad.”
Justin didn’t answer right away. He rubbed his cheek on his heated muscular biceps and then touched it with his lips. He snuck him a kiss and then laid back, facing the low ceiling. He waited until the Captain’s breathing softened to his slumber, then pleasured himself whilst lying next to him. “Good night, my Captain,” he whispered.


Chapter 3


The Quartermaster assigned a crew member to go aloft and climb the mast to use a telescope to search the horizon. Nothing sighted yet. The Pilot checked his calculations. They were on course and the seas were passive. The summer was kind, but, very hot come mid-day sun. Justin was learning how to tend the rigging. He hadn’t climbed the ratlines as yet. The thought of being that high in a rocking vessel horrified him. He was in awe as at least six men scuttled up to trim the sails, never blinking at the task of stabilizing the shrouds. He felt the calluses already forming as the coarseness of the ropes rubbed his palms raw. He enjoyed the knowledge, however, and paid close attention to Boatswain Black as he pointed out how to attach the sails.
After his first lesson on rigging he was handed a pistol. Will Davis loaded the shot and powder, then handed it to Justin, pointing him to open sea. Justin bit his lip and squinted his eyes, trying not to sway with the moving ship. He pulled the trigger and landed square on his rump from the unexpected recoil, the powder spattered his face.
The crew burst into laughter and doubled over with hilarity.
Justin blinked his eyes and sat with the gun still pointed and smoking. “Blimey!”
Will tried to contain his laughter and helped Justin to his feet. “She packs a mean wallop, lad. Ye should try the musketoon, me thinks.”
Justin was still in shock, his eyes wide. “What a noise! Can I do that again?”
Will pat his back and smiled at him.
Captain Jones wrote in his log to update it for his own personal use. He heard the group’s laughter and had no doubt Justin was up to his usual antics. He chuckled to himself and shook his head. He heard a light rap on his door and shouted to enter. First mate Cromwell came in and greeted him.
“You all right, Jack?”
“Aye, aye, Captain…very all right, indeed!”
“What’s our Justin up to?” The Captain closed his journal and gave his first mate his full attention.
Cromwell wiped at a tear of laughter as his hilarity resurged. “He fired Will’s flintlock and landed right on his arse!”
The Captain’s face brightened up with the image. “I’m sorry I missed it!”
“Aye, what a lad, what a lad...” he chuckled to himself.
“Did you come here solely to inform me of his latest act?”
“Nay sir, I didn’t. But that was too good to not share with ye.”
“Right. Come now, what have you got for me?”

In the late evening Justin went to the galley to help Smithy with his clean up chores. Smithy brightened up as the lad smiled sweetly and offered his hand. No one ever helped him without a grudge before. It was nice to have an assistant in the under appreciated kitchen. He pat his head in gratitude and handed him some sweet apple cakes when he was through. Justin stuffed one into his mouth and chewed it in delight.
“Shhh, just ye and our Captain…don’t let the men know.” He winked.
“You want I should bring him his?” he said with his mouth full.
“That’d be fine, lad.” He handed them to him.
Justin smiled brightly and clutched them to himself to hide and protect them. He walked quickly down the passage, trying not to shift with the listing hull. He started losing his balance. Quartermaster Tucker was headed that way when he spotted him about to fall. He reached out for him anxiously and caught hold of the shoulder of his shirt. Justin hit the side of the passageway, then went down.
Tucker gripped his collar and pulled upward, trying to prevent it.
Justin ended up on his rump again, the shirt yanked over his head.
Tucker covered his grin as he heard Justin’s frustrated sigh.
Peckham was passing by and stopped short behind Tucker to peer over his shoulder. “What now?”
Tucker could not control his laughing fit long enough to tell him. He kept biting back his hilarity.
Peckham tried to find Justin under his muddled blouse. “You in there, lad?”
“Yessss….” came a soft reply.
“Can you stand up?” He spotted his hair and head and managed to tug the fabric back down to see his pout. “What have you got in your hands that you couldn’t prevent your fall?”
Justin peeked down at them. The cakes were smashed against his chest. “Something for the Captain….never mind now.”
When Tucker found the crumbled mess he attempted to excuse himself as quickly as he could. They could hear him roar with the laughter he just could not contain.
Peckham helped Justin to his feet and they inspected the damaged cakes. “Oh, dear…” Peckham shook his head.
Justin pouted up at him. “Why am I such a clod?”
Peckham covered his smile at that innocent expression. “It takes time, lad, to maneuver on a moving craft. You’ve been asea less than a week. Give yourself credit where it’s due and don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“Aye, thanks Pilot.” He was far from consoled.
Peckham opened the cabin door and allowed him to pass, then went on his way.
Justin set the smashed cakes down on the Captain’s desk. He brushed off his shirt and hands, then tried to get them back together.
The Pilot caught up with his quartermaster. He was retelling the tale to some of the men and they were laughing heartily over it. Peckham leaned against Tucker. “The poor lad. He tries so hard.”
“Argh! He tries too hard!” Tucker burst out laughing again.
“He’s just eager to please and yearns to be accepted.” Peckham pat Tucker’s back.
“He’s like a babe in the wood. He is so overwhelmed. I bet he’s in a hurry to get home to his mum,” one of the crew said.
Tucker opened a bottle of beer and got himself comfortable on a bench as Peckham did the same. “Nay, not likely. Captain says the boy’s been beaten raw by his father. Me thinks Justin will never go back to that again.” Tucker drank his ale then wiped his beard off with the back of his hand.
Justin gave up. They were smashed beyond repair. He sat down at the desk to stare at them and sighed. He noticed a journal and pen. He peeked up at the door, then tipped it open to read. It was a daily log. It stated time, position, and weather conditions in an absolutely beautiful scrolling hand. Each entry had a small commentary on the crew. It described the young stowaway, then on up to the trial and sentence of Ben Hornbolt. He heard the latch and clapped it shut, quickly sitting on his hands, and staring up expectantly.
“Justin, lad, you all right?” The Captain came in and tossed his hat aside.
“Aye, Captain, sir.”
Captain Jones caught Justin’s eyes darting to the food on the desk, then back to the floor. “What have we got here?”
“Apple cakes, sir…that I crushed, on accident.” He kicked his boot into the planked floor.
The Captain tried to keep a straight face. He could image this story quite easily. He lifted one of the larger pieces of broken cake and stuffed it into his mouth. “Mmmm, very good. Did you make it?”
“No, Smithy did. I just ruined it,” he mumbled and stared at the crumbling remains.
“No, it’s lovely. Not ruined at all.”
Justin moved his gaze up until they caught those laugh lines near his eyes and the white perfect teeth of his smile. He sighed as he felt his body react once more. “Why are you so kind to me?”
The Captain’s gentle expression faded to all seriousness. He sat down on the bunk and whispered, “Come here, lad.”
Justin managed to get himself upright and scuffed over to his Captain.
Captain Jones reached for his hands and clasped them firmly. “Look at me, Justin.”
He did with great reluctance.
“I am not your father. You will not find that harsh judge in me. We all find our way in this life, best we can. You are too hard on yourself, and your past is why. Look, you have come on account with us. You are a part of this crew, like it as not. Why should I treat you any differently than any other man under my flag?”
Justin felt a catch in his throat and could not utter a word. His gaze was connected to the one before him. His hands clasped those large warm ones tightly in his.
“In less than two weeks time we come upon our prey, lad. Who knows who will live and who will die? I’ve no time for worry, or fear. I go with a single purpose. We all do. We fight as a team, a solid group. You are with us now, Justin Alexander. You stand and deliver as we do. What would you do, Justin, if you knew you had less than two weeks on this earth? That is what our reality is, lad. It’s no pretty deed boarding an enemy ship, dealing with her cannons, her crew. They may fight to the death, or give up. We’ve no way to know. You are very young, but we cannot guarantee we will not perish.”
Justin thought about it. What would he do if this was his last week on earth?? ‘Oh, lord, let me have him!’
Captain Jones tried to read those determined eyes. “I don’t say this to scare you, lad. I just want to reassure you that these little things you take so hard on yourself are meaningless. Do you see now?”
Justin unclasped his right hand from the Captain’s fingers and raised it up to his handsome face. He hovered over that high cheek bone and rough one day’s growth. His eyes unfocused and his lips parted with a softt breath.
The Captain studied him closely. He felt that light caress tickle his jaw. “What thoughts are you having, Justin?”
Justin felt his face go crimson. He lowered his hand and then his eyes. He cleared his throat and said, “I have never been treated so kindly before. Here, I have boarded your ship like a criminal, caused the death of one of your crew, and distracted the men with my floundering. Yet, you tend me when I am ill, console me when I am miserable, and praise me when I am a buffoon.”
The Captain smiled gently at the appraisal. “And what do you make of it all, Justin?”
“I love you, my Captain. I want to do you proud on that broadside. I want to show you my loyalty to you. I will fight to the death for you, to protect you and your crew.”
Captain Jones smiled in delight. “I am honored I have earned such high regard from you. Thank you, Justin.”
Justin wanted to kiss his lips very badly.
“You must go to bed now, lad. It’s very late and we need start at first light as we get closer to our target.”
“Aye, my Captain.” He stepped back from him and lowered his head.
“How is your back? Are you healing?”
Justin’s face lit up impishly at the thought. “I am very sore…”
“Are you? Is the liniment not helping then?”
“No! It helped me a great deal!”
“Did it?” The Captain stood and took off his blouse and boots.
“Yes!! After you applied it, I felt much relief!” His heart beat faster.
“Come then, take off your things.”
Justin wiggled out of his shirt and breeches. He laid on his belly and sighed in anticipation. The Captain sat near him and inspected the scratches. “You are healing well. Very good.”
Justin raised his hips up and tugged his pants down to his knees, smiling into the bedding. At first touch of those hands he groaned in pleasure.
“I don’t know what the doctor puts in these things, but it has done the trick. I try to tell by the odor. It smells very herbal to me. What do you think, Justin? Can you tell?”
“Comfrey?”
“Aye, you think so?” He rubbed some over his back. “I know nothing of plants. My Katherine does.”
Justin tilted his head to him. “Tell me about her, sir.”
Captain Jones smiled at the pleasure of thinking of her. “She is a beauty, Justin. A beauty.” He smoothed his hands over Justin’s bottom.
“Is she?” He held back a shiver in delight.
“Oh, yes, lad. One worth waiting for. She is like a princess to me. Skin like satin, smooth and milky…ginger colored hair, and lovely green eyes…”
Justin closed his eyes as those large masculine hands grew more bold with the visions of the one they missed. “Is she, sir?”
The Captain let his gaze mist over softly and dipped his finger into the salve. He went over the whelts on Justin’s thighs. “Like a dream, she is…and the body on her is pure delight…”
Justin parted his legs and tried to prevent a full blown groan of agony at the longing.
The Captain lost himself on Justin’s taut skin and hairless inner leg muscles. “I yearn for her, Justin. You have no idea how I miss her.”
Justin was on fire. He tried to stay still with a throbbing hardness between his legs. “I do, sir. I do. It must be agony for you both.”
He smoothed his palms up his bottom again and to his narrow waist. He smiled when he did and thought that Justin’s hips were as narrow as hers. He ran his hand up his back and into that thick brown head of hair. It felt the same texture to him, from what he remembered. Only she usually pinned hers up. He stood to wipe off his hands and douse the lamp, then crawled over the bed again.
Justin was grinding his teeth at the craving. He rolled to his side in the darkness and listened to that soft breathing beside him. “I’ll bet she is missing you too, Captain.” Justin heard his deep inhaled breath.
“Yes. She was in misery to see me leave and of not knowing if I return. Then of course there is always the hangman’s knot out there for me, if we are caught.”
“I cannot imagine her pain, sir. You would be impossible to replace.” He sensed the Captain leaning up to face him in the jet darkness.
“You say very kind things to me, Justin, and I thank you for the comfort.”
Justin was in complete agony. Why, was the one man he wanted to have touch him, the only one who would not? ‘Grope me!’ he begged silently.
“Good night, lad.”
He heard him shift over to his back. Justin moved to touch him in the blinding pitch dark. He felt for his upper arm and wrapped his hand around that solid hard muscle. He brought it over to his chest and hugged it, like a child would do to a stuffed doll. He pushed his pelvis into that solid large quadriceps muscle, then laid his head on his shoulder and closed his eyes.

Pirates, by G.A. Hauser, is an imaginative, and extremely well-written piece of writing. The writer's use of "old English" grammar takes one back to the 18th Century setting. It is easy to see why G.A. Hauser was selected as tripplehitter's Author of the Month for her work. I predict that Hauser will soon be a widely recognized and very popular author. This compliment is coming from a struggling writer. I have two published works to date: "Like A Cat With Nine Lives" - Publish America, Inc.; and "How Police Officer Get Hired / The Key to Getting the Cop Job and Keeping It" - The Graduate Group.