by Noah Harris
That evening, as the cook came up with stew for supper and a plentiful rum ration for each man, the crew of pirates sat on deck under a brilliant sunset. Thomas sat with Seamus and another man, a German youth named Radbert Weiss, who everyone called “Golden Hair” because of the long blond hair that fell to his shoulders. He had clear skin, slightly bronzed by the sun in an attractive manner, and a slim but firm body. Throughout the day, Thomas had felt a little tremble every time the youth had passed him on deck, and when those blue eyes caught his that tremble grew strong enough to shake Thomas’s entire body. He’d nearly fainted when the fellow chose to sit beside them.
Captain Seawolf strode up to the gathered crew, accompanied by a squat, scowling man with a long moustache waxed to a point several inches to either side of his head.
“Who is that?” Thomas asked Radbert, in order to have an excuse to speak with the blond youth.
“That is Roaring Randy, our first mate. Surely, you must have heard him yelling orders,” the German youth replied in heavily-accented English.
“I did, and it’s an appropriate nickname.”
“Lads!” the pirate captain shouted. “It’s time to plan our next move. We have a nice hold full of rum and sugar, plus the calico we took from that last ship. Frenchie tells us we have just enough room for another catch, but if it’s a big one we won’t have the space and we’ll have to leave some things behind.”
“We’ll just drink all the rum to make room!” a sailor called out. Everyone laughed. Thomas was amazed the captain did not grow angry at being interrupted. Instead, he laughed as heartily as the rest.
“Aye, that’s a plan we might just put into action,” he replied, giving the man a wink. “So, here’s the way I look at it. We can go hunt another ship and see what we get, or offload what we have.”
“The calico will fetch a nice price in the Caribbean, but the rum and the sugar won’t sell very high,” another sailor said.
“True,” the captain said with a nod. “Another possibility is to sail across the ocean, plucking what fat birds we might come across, and selling the rum and sugar for a good price in Europe.”
“But then the calico won’t sell for much, being a European product,” Roaring Randy said.
“I say we go to the Caribbean, sell what we have, and split our share. Who’s in favor?” one of the sailors said.
“Aye!” large portion of the crowd cheered, Seamus and Radbert included.
“Who is opposed?” the sailor asked.
“Nay!” said a smaller group.
“Wait, everyone is making this decision?” Thomas asked, amazed.
“Yes, the captain is only in charge during battle, during which time he has full powers,” Seamus answered. Thomas was disappointed Radbert didn’t reply. “At other times, we make decisions together.”
Thomas’s jaw dropped. He had never heard of such a thing.
“So where shall we go?” the young woman asked. She stood next to the burlier lass, their arms around one another.
“I vote for Nassau in the Bahamas,” Seamus called out. “We won’t get as good of a price on our goods, but we’ll be safe there, and we can hear the news. We’ve been a long time at sea.”
“I vote we go to Florida,” another sailor said. “The calico will fetch a fine price there.”
There followed a long discussion of which port to go to, with many names being bandied about, including some ports that Thomas had never heard of. He thought he was familiar with all the Caribbean ports. One name that got mentioned more than all the others was Cutlass Cove, and it was that one that the crew finally settled on.
“What’s Cutlass Cove?” Thomas asked.
“A fine hideout,” Seamus replied, “both for pirates and men like us. The last time Golden Hair visited that place he couldn’t sit down for a week.”
This brought out a sheepish smile from the young German, who cast a sidelong glance at Thomas. Thomas felt his cock stiffen in his trousers. He had never ridden a man before, but looking at this fresh-faced young sailor, it was all he could think about.
They finished their meal, and the crew went below decks in twos and small groups. The German put a hand on Thomas’s thigh and said, “Let’s find you a place to bed down for the night.”
Thomas turned to Seamus and saw he had quietly departed.
“All right,” Thomas replied, his voice coming out hoarse.
The German took him by the hand, an oddly intimate gesture that made Thomas unsure of himself, and led him to the stairs. A short, wide-bodied man with a shaved head and a round, smiling face stopped them.
“Welcome aboard,” he said, shaking Thomas’s hand. “The lads call me Frenchie. We haven’t met yet, and you need to know who I am. I’m the quartermaster for this ship, and that makes me third in command, as much as anyone is in command of this tub. On a ship like ours, the quartermaster is more important than the master gunner or even the navigator. You see, I’m in charge not only of the ship’s stores but the booty, as well. If you join us, I’ll make sure you get your share, not a penny less and not a penny more. If you try to steal so much as a crust of bread, I’ll eat your liver for breakfast and skip rope with your entrails.”
Frenchie’s smile never left his face, leaving Thomas no doubt that he was only speaking plain fact. Despite his nickname, the man did not have a French accent. Instead he spoke English with an accent like those Eastern sailors Thomas had met when on a voyage in the Baltic Sea.
“Why do they call you Frenchie?” Thomas asked.
“Because I’m Russian.”
Neither Frenchie nor Radbert laughed, and Thomas was left unsure if he had been the victim of a joke or not.
“You’ll find bedding aplenty below decks. Is there anything else you require?” Frenchie asked.
Radbert gave Thomas an enticing smile and squeezed his hand.
“Um, no,” Thomas said with a throat that was getting drier by the minute. “I think I have everything I need right here.”
Frenchie looked at the horizon, where the sun was just winking out. He quickly glanced in the opposite direction, where a full moon had not yet risen but was casting a pale glow on the sky from just below the horizon.
“I need to go,” he said and hurried off to the other end of the ship, where another hatch stood open. The captain and a few other men stood there with an air of impatience. Frenchie led them down the hatch.
“Come,” Radbert said.
Thomas needed no further invitation.
The steep stairs led to the middle deck of the ship where the crew usually slept in most vessels. In a normal ship, the area would be outfitted with a series of hammocks, which could be easily bundled up when not in use and stowed away to clear the deck for work. On the Manhunter, there were no hammocks, only padded mattresses spread out over the entire floor and a scattering of blankets laid on top of them.
Thomas immediately saw why. Already men were entwined in pairs and in groups, pulling their clothes off and fondling each other in the soft light of a few lanterns. At the far end of the deck, no lanterns shone where others had bedded down alone. It was obvious that if one wanted to actually sleep in the sleeping quarters, one had to go to the far end of the deck.
Thomas made his way in that direction.
“Where are you going?” Radbert asked, tugging on his sleeve.
“I…um…”
Radbert planted a tender kiss on his lips. “I like you. I like how you stood up to your first mate and captain when you could have just walked away. We had saved your life, and you put it at risk to avenge your friend.”
The young German started unbuckling Thomas’s belt.
“We’re going to do it here in the light?” Thomas asked.
Radbert gave him a smile as he slid his hand into Thomas’s trousers, running a fingertip along the length of his cock. “In the privy, we can’t see what we’re doing. Wouldn’t you rather be able to see me?”
“I would,” Thomas repli
ed, his voice coming out dry and husky. “It’s just that there are all these other people.”
He glanced sidelong at a pair who lay in a naked embrace just a pace away. Further on, a man was bent over and gripping one of the support beams as another mounted him. He had never seen man-on-man sex performed so brazenly before. In fact, he had never seen it in a clear light at all.
“We can’t show them anything they haven’t seen before,” Radbert reassured him, “and they won’t disturb us unless we invite them to.”
Thomas was flustered. He looked around again and saw several more of the crew had cast off their clothing and had started coupling.
“I’m not sure I can,” Thomas whispered.
Radbert gave his swollen cock a little squeeze. “I’m sure. Here, let me help you.”
The young German let go of Thomas’s manhood and took a step back. He slipped off his shirt to reveal a lean, smooth chest. Unlike Thomas, he did not have any chest hair, but he did have firm muscles like any sailor. Radbert’s nipples were hard with excitement, and when he pulled down his trousers he revealed a more important part of him had grown stiff as well. Radbert’s organ was smaller than his own, but Thomas found it enticing nonetheless. The German had a small triangle of pubic hair above, and his legs had fine hair that was just beginning to grow dark.
Radbert, now completely nude, cocked his head and treated Thomas to a welcoming smile. He performed a slow pirouette, revealing a tight, smooth ass that almost made the nervous sailor swoon. Thomas was almost unaware he had dropped his own trousers and had stepped out of them.
Thomas tingled all over as his nostrils filled with the smell of sex. All around him, men were in carnal embrace, and beneath the smell of their sweat and lust he detected another scent, a different scent. It was like that of an animal, a strange musk that permeated the deck with a faint and powerful odor.
The German sailor backed up, pressing his smooth, hard buttocks against him. He looked over his shoulder and put a hand on Thomas’s cheek.
“Do you like to be on top?” he asked, moving his hips a little so Thomas’s organ slid back and forth within his enticing crack.
“I like being on top and on the bottom, but with you - oh God - with you I’ll do anything.”
Thomas grasped Radbert’s organ as he ran his other hand across his smooth chest, exploring the soft skin of the youth’s neck and shoulder with his lips. Radbert continued to gyrate against him, making Thomas ever more excited.
“Take me,” the German said. He eased Thomas down onto the padding and got on all fours in front of him.
Thomas no longer cared that he was in a room full of people, did not care that he could be clearly seen in the lamplight. His only thoughts were of that tempting sight before him. He spat in his hand and lubed up his organ.
“This is better,” an accented voice said beside him.
A sailor who looked to hail from Spain offered him a ceramic jug.
“What’s this?” Thomas asked, annoyed by the intrusion.
“Olive oil from my country,” he said. “It will make you slip inside the tightest hole with ease. My name is Gonzalo. Ask for me if you want further demonstration.”
The Spaniard moved away. Thomas silently thanked him for knowing when he wasn’t wanted. He was a handsome fellow, olive-skinned and with soft brown eyes, but Thomas had eyes for only one man right now.
Thomas poured a little olive oil onto his palm. The golden liquid smelled fragrant and felt slippery to the touch. Thomas rubbed it around the bulbous head of his cock, and then along the length of his thick eight-inch shaft.
Hand still dripping with oil, he reached around and grasped Radbert’s organ. The German let out a little moan of pleasure and bent his back so his pert bottom presented itself to the English sailor.
With his free hand, Thomas guided his cock past the smooth cheeks of his new lover and found the tight, puckered hole beyond.
He pressed. Radbert let out a little grunt as his sphincter resisted, but the olive oil did its work well, and Thomas was able to enter.
The German’s hole pressed down on Thomas’s head with a tight grip. Still working Radbert’s cock with his lubricated hand, Thomas grasped the youth’s shoulder with his other hand, then, with a single hard thrust, pushed his cock in deep.
Both men groaned with pleasure and discomfort. While Radbert had the greater share of the latter, Thomas could feel the youth’s tight hole squeezing his organ like it had never been squeezed before. It took an effort to pull back and push forward.
Slowly, he worked up a rhythm, timing his thrusts with the strokes he gave his partner’s meat. With curt words, Radbert told him when to speed up and slow down, eager for them to cum at the same time.
Thomas was working to a crescendo, his body suffused with heat, sweat pouring down his face. He was almost there, and from the feel of Radbert’s cock swelling to even greater girth in his hand, he knew his partner was too.
And then they both came. With twin shouts of ecstasy, Thomas and Radbert hit orgasm together. Thomas shot a great wad of semen up the German’s ass as he felt hot liquid gush through his fingers.
Thomas arched his back, eyes hooded, taking in a sharp breath of air as he forced himself into the clenching ass as far as he could go. Shot after shot of his sex juice gushed from him to pool inside his lover.
At last they tumbled onto the matting, side-by-side and not caring about the damp puddle in which they both lay. Thomas breathed heavily, reveling in the sweet scent of his lover. Beneath that, he could still detect that strange, musky smell he had noticed before.
“Thank you,” Thomas said, running his fingers through Radbert’s blond hair.
“Are you happy?” Radbert whispered.
“Very much so.”
“Would you like to do it again in a little while?”
“I think I’ll sleep. You are lovely, but this day has been a strain.”
Radbert kissed him. “Is there anything else you desire?”
Thomas hesitated before holding him tighter. “Could you stay by me for the night?”
A flicker of annoyance passed over the youth’s features. “I am claimed by no man.”
“I didn’t mean that. I understand. I don’t wish to claim you. It’s just that, well, I’ve never gotten to lie with a man like this. It’s always been so quick and hidden.”
Radbert smiled and kissed him again.
“You’re sweet. Of course, I’ll stay.”
They cuddled close, and within minutes Thomas fell into the deepest, most relaxing sleep he had had in a long, long time.
“Sail off the port bow!”
Thomas looked up from where he was scouring the deck with a group of sailors and shaded his eyes from the late morning sun. Yes, indeed, there was a sail on the eastern horizon. That struck him as odd. After taking the Virtue, the Manhunter had headed south to get well away the main Caribbean shipping lane. The plan was to hide in unused waters for a time to elude any pursuit before heading to Cutlass Cove, and yet there was a ship already headed their way.
Captain Seawolf strode by with Roaring Randy the first mate. Both had spyglasses in their hands. Thomas recognized the spyglass Randy carried as formerly belonging to Captain Stone of the Virtue. So, the pirates hadn’t left all personal effects alone. Despite his earlier reservations of the criminal life, the thought of anyone swiping anything from Captain Stone made Thomas smile. Captain Seawolf and Roaring Randy stood at the railing for some minutes as Thomas and the others continued their work.
“A wide-hulled cargo ship flying the British colors. I’ll wager she’s hailing from the Gold Coast and was blown off course. Shall we take her, lads?”
A deafening roar of approval resounded across the ship. Without even being ordered to, the helmsman turned about. The wind was northerly, pushing the Manhunter quickly on their southern course. The pirates could easily cut off the ship, which was to the east and a little south of her.
In a trice,
Thomas and the others had put away their scour stones. Other men cleared the deck of the rest of the tools while those off duty swarmed up from below, bearing weapons. The burly woman Thomas had seen earlier at the cannon barked orders at the gun crews, who hurried to uncover and load their pieces.
“Load them with chain shot, lads,” she commanded. “Cripple her sails!”
The gunners loaded their pieces with two small cannonballs tied together with a thick chain. Thomas had heard from men who had served in the navy, that when fired, the two balls spun around and would tear a gaping hole in most anything it hit. While not strong enough to cut through a hull, it did deadly work to men and sail.
“I am in charge of the boarding crew!” shouted a Negro named Azenkua, whom Thomas had met briefly. He had still not familiarized himself with the entire crew, not even to the point of knowing all their names. “I am in charge of the boarding crew! We go in first and any man who gets in our way will be cut to pieces!” He waved a cutlass in the air as other Negroes gathered around him.
“We’ll not deny you the pleasure of taking this ship, my friend,” Captain Seawolf said. “And we’ll be right behind you to swab the deck! What a mess your men make when you’re at your work!”
Seamus pushed a pistol and cutlass into Thomas’s hands.
“I am no pirate,” Thomas said.
“Neither are we - not today,” he replied, hurrying off to his post.
The cargo ship seemed to have spotted the Manhunter at the same time that she had been sighted by the pirates. She turned about to catch the full northerly wind and picked up speed. But she was an even slower vessel than the Virtue, and Thomas could see the race would be a short one.
Still, they were at a great distance, and it took almost an hour to get in range.
“Hoist the Jolly Roger!” Captain Seawolf ordered.
The skull and crossed phalli went up, snapping in the breeze, a signal for the other ship to give up and be boarded if they valued their lives. But the ship did not respond. Minute after minute, the distance between the two closed.
“Give her more speed, blast you, before she jettisons her cargo!” the captain barked.
