Lust in the Caribbean

by Noah Harris

  He detached himself from Radbert, giving him an affectionate peck on the cheek, and got up.

  Once dressed, he tiptoed through the sleeping men and up the staircase to the main deck.

  The sea was calm. Not a breath of wind stirred and the water was as flat as a silver plate in the moonlight. The full moon hung low in the west. It was late, and he would have a weary day on the morrow if he did not catch some slumber.

  That didn’t bother him. He had to satisfy his curiosity.

  He peered around the deck. Although he could not clearly see the crow’s nest, he knew a man would be posted there. He could also see a man at the wheel, of course, and another would be at the prow and at the stern. There was no forecastle or sterncastle on this ship. The entire deck was one level, and he could see along its entire length.

  The hatch he had come up was near the prow, and he could clearly spy the silhouette of the man on watch at the prow, looking out to sea for ships.

  His job was to look forward, and unless startled by a sound from behind, he would not turn around. Thomas had already seen that the pirates enforced enough discipline on themselves that they did their duty even if no one was truly in command.

  But there were the other three men he had to worry about - those at the wheel and aft, and the man in the crow’s nest. Luckily the ship faced almost due north. The navigator had turned the ship earlier that evening to steer for the Caribbean. The consensus aboard the Manhunter was that any immediate pursuit would have been called off by now, and they could set a course for Cutlass Cove.

  The setting moon left deep shadows on the starboard side of any objects on deck, such as the three masts and the two large rowboats. Unfortunately, moonlight shone on the rest of the deck, making all objects stand out clearly.If he could make it to the port railing, he could move in its shadow all the way to the other side of the ship. But to do so, he’d have to cross half the width of the deck in plain sight.

  He hesitated, unsure what to do.

  After a minute, he was given a chance.

  “Ahoy, Seamus,” a voice called from aft, calling to his friend at the wheel. Until that moment Thomas did not know it was he who stood on duty that watch. “Look at the dolphins off starboard.”

  Thomas glanced in that direction from the shadow of the fore hatch and saw one of those sights that made a man, once he had been to sea, resolve to live the rest of his life on the deck of a ship.

  A school of dolphins swam only a couple of chains off starboard. They leapt out of the moonlit water like bullets of quicksilver before diving back in—dozens of them, a gleaming silver spectacle in the shimmering sea.

  Thomas smiled. As entranced as he was, he had business to attend to. He kept low and hurried to the shelter of the shadow cast by the port railing. No one shouted at his passage. All eyes were on one of the thousand wonders of the sea.

  He ducked the shadow but paused. These pirates, who were reputed to be so violent, had enough soul in their hearts to marvel at such a wonder. Even more, they had enough tenderness for the many kindnesses and acts of gentleness he had seen on the middle deck at night. Not only that, they liberated slave ships when there was no profit in it for them. These were strange pirates indeed.

  Thomas crept on his hands and knees along the shadow that ran the length of the ship, careful not to make the slightest noise.

  He passed Seamus at the wheel. The man was keeping his eye on his work, casting occasional glances to his right at the dolphins that still must have been arcing over the water in their playful swim. Thomas could now see the man on watch aft. He was turned a bit away, so Thomas could not discern his features. All he could see was that he was blocky and a bit short, with a shaved head. Perhaps Frenchie the quartermaster, although he could not be sure. He had heard an accent when the man spoke, but in his nervousness, he had not paid sufficient attention to it. Besides, more men on this ship spoke with accents than without.

  Thomas slid to a point directly opposite the aft hatch, which lay open in the fine weather. He bit his lip. While he was now behind Seamus at the wheel and the man in the crow’s nest, he’d have to run right in front of the man keeping watch aft. Of course, that man was looking away, scanning the sea behind the boat in case any ships appeared from that direction. As long as the man did not turn, he would be safe enough. Thomas’s bare feet would make next to no sound on the thick wooden deck, but it was still a great risk. If the man should turn around as Thomas scurried to the aft hatch, he would be caught for certain. Indeed, every now and then the man did so, looking out over the ship. He seemed to be keeping an eye on the very hatch Thomas wanted to enter.

  Once again, Thomas awaited his chance.

  It came after a few minutes, when the aft watchman leaned against the railing and began to fill a pipe.

  Sending up a prayer that the man in the crow’s nest would not take that moment to look below and behind him, Thomas scampered across the deck and was into the hatch in the blink of an eye.

  He crouched there at the top of the steep stairs, swathed in shadow, listening.

  No cry came from on deck. He had made it!

  But for what purpose? What madness had pushed him to creep around a pirate ship late at night?

  No light shone from below, and he had to feel his way. He found that the aft hatch did not open directly onto the middle deck as was typical in ships of this kind. Instead, it had been walled off to make a vertical passage going down directly to the lower deck. He got to a landing and felt around, discovering a doorway to the middle deck, securely locked with a heavy padlock.

  Why? Why cut off access to the deck in such a manner?

  He continued down the stairs, eyes wide as he tried to see in the near pitch blackness, the night sky a distant silvery square through the hatch above.

  He came to the lower deck. Once again there was a door. This one, however, was not locked, merely bolted with a thick metal bar. A faint light came from beneath the door. Perhaps it was the brig, where the pirates kept captives. Perhaps some nobleman they wished to collect ransom on. But the animal musk smelled stronger. It cast a strange feeling over him, making his skin prickle and his breath come more quickly.

  He pressed his ear against the door and heard sounds of movement within—heavy footsteps, as of more than one large person pacing back and forth.

  The movement stopped, replaced with silence. Then came another sound, a sound that ran a chill up the sailor’s spine and almost sent him fleeing up the steps.

  The sound of sniffing.

  Thomas shuddered and drew away. This was madness. Whatever stood behind this door was obviously locked in for a reason. But what could it be, and why should he fear it? If this really was the brig and captives lay inside, they would look at him as a savior. If there was some sort of animal or animals in there, they would be in a cage. He had nothing to fear.

  A part of his mind, barely heard, told him that the smell of the musk was clouding his thinking, that the rich animal scent was drawing him to the door. He tried to reason with himself that he was only exploring the secrets of the ship to know what sort of fate had been handed him. It was best to know.

  With a trembling hand, he eased the bolt out of its bracket as quietly as he could. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.

  The room beyond measured about ten feet square. A lamp hung just inside the doorway, its whale oil casting a soft yellow glow. Most of the room was taken up by a thick metal cage that was bolted to the floor and rose almost to the ceiling.

  Inside that cage stood five…things.

  They stood on their hind quarters like men, but they were most certainly not men. They stood seven feet tall, with massive muscles beneath pelts of fur. Some had the faces of wolves. One had the broad head of a bear, and yet all had a vaguely human quality to their features.

  All were looking at him with bestial eyes that glimmered in the lamplight.

  Thomas stared.

  The musk hung heavy in the enclosed room
, permeating the air. Languidly Thomas stepped forward, his fear forgotten as he stared at these man-beasts who pressed against the bars, gripping them, their tongues lolling in their mouths as they watched him. He couldn’t look away, didn’t want to. He felt as if those hungry eyes were pulling him forward, commanding him.

  As if in a dream Thomas pulled off his shirt, noticing that his nipples had hardened. He dropped his shirt on the deck and unbuckled his belt. The creatures watched him. There was a heavy padlock on the cell door, but Thomas did not need to enter the cage. They could reach him through the bars. All he had to do was take another two steps forward and then turn around to offer himself.

  He dropped his pants and stepped out of them, naked now to the gaze of these creatures. His cock rose stiff and erect before them, and Thomas’s eyes widened as he saw the creatures respond in kind. Trembling with desire, he took a step forward.

  A strong hand grabbed him by the shoulder and flung him back against the door frame.

  It was Frenchie. The quartermaster pushed him onto the landing, threw his clothes after him, and slammed and bolted the door.

  The sudden violence broke the spell that had clouded Thomas’s mind. But it did not quench his desire. He leaned against the wall, suddenly dizzy, a sheen of sweat over his body, cool in the night air. His cock was so engorged, it was painful.

  “What were those things?” he gasped.

  “The captain and some of the crew.”

  “Impossible!”

  “No, look.”

  Frenchie took his hand and guided him to the other part of the landing. In the dim light he could just make out a row of coats and shirts and trousers hanging on pegs.

  “Do you recognize this coat?” Frenchie asked, indicating one.

  In the dark it was hard to see, but it looked like the thick red coat with the gold buttons the captain wore.

  “Those things can’t be human.”

  “They aren’t, at least not the way you or I understand the word. Haven’t you ever heard of the lycanthrope? The loup-garou?”

  “Werewolves,” Thomas whispered, shivering.

  “That’s right.”

  “Those don’t exist.”

  “You just saw them.”

  From behind the door they heard the cage being rattled. Instinctively, Thomas moved to the door.

  “Stop,” Frenchie said, restraining him. “Their musk is a powerful stimulant. It can drive a man mad with desire. You might have caught a whiff of it even on the other deck. That’s why the lads get extra randy on the nights on and around the full moon.”

  “I want to go in there,” Thomas pleaded.

  “So do I, but you can’t. One man was fool enough to give himself to them when they were in beast form. We found him the next day. There wasn’t much left. He’d been cored out like an apple.”

  “He died happy,” Thomas said, reaching for the bolt.

  Frenchie slapped him. That brought some sense to Thomas’s mind.

  “Thank you,” he said, putting a hand on Frenchie’s shoulder. He could feel the man sweating, and now that he listened he could hear him breathing rapidly. “You’re affected. too.”

  “Any man like us would be. The musk is strong here. Let’s get rid of some tension.”

  Frenchie pressed Thomas against the wall, got on his knees and in a moment had Thomas’s cock in his mouth. His mouth clamped down on the eight inches of flesh like a tight silk glove. As Frenchie worked his organ, Thomas could hear him hurriedly unbuckling his belt and pulling out his meat. The quartermaster drew away from Thomas long enough to spit on his hand before resuming his lovely treatment. In the next moment Thomas could hear the wet, repetitive sound of Frenchie frantically working his meat.

  Thomas leaned back, reveling in the sensation of being serviced by an expert mouth and taking slow, deep breaths of the musk. Every time the cage rattled behind the stout, bolted door, Thomas felt a tingle of both fear and desire.

  That desire made both men climax quickly. Despite having spent his semen twice earlier that evening, Thomas shot forth a great gush into Frenchie’s willing throat. The man didn’t gag or even make a noise, but gulped it down like a drunkard knocks back a flagon of ale. At the same moment, Frenchie spent his own man fluid, firing straight up to soak Thomas’s inner thighs and the crack of his ass.

  Before he knew what was happening, Frenchie grabbed Thomas’s clothing and pushed him towards the stairs.

  “Let’s get dressed and get away from here. I’ve taken care of these man-beasts for more than a year now, and at times, even I get tempted.”

  After they finished dressing, they sat on deck and Frenchie explained things.

  “Many of the tales you have heard about strange creatures are true. The werewolves, as you call them, are very real. The proper term is lycanthrope, because these beast men don’t all turn into wolves. Some turn into bears or boars or wild horses. I’ve heard tell that in Africa they turn into lions and tigers. In the jungles of Brazil, they turn into giant snakes.”

  “But they’re monsters! Back in Kent they say that you should never travel at night along a certain lonely road near Buckland under the full moon, because a werewolf prowls there. In my grandfather’s time, they say a tinker was found with his chest ripped open. How could you keep beasts like that on a ship?”

  “Because they are not beasts most of the time. They are men like you or me, who only change during the full moon and a couple of days before and after. They are a bit hotheaded, though. You’ll notice once you get to know them that the lycanthropes among us are the ones with the shortest fuses—and they’re the fiercest in battle. They can change form at will, too, but they rarely do that, for the more bestial they become, the less control they have over their own faculties. They can change just a little to gain speed and strength, and when sorely pressed in battle they will do so, but that is a dangerous game. For to change a little turns the mind a little into that of an animal, and they can easily in their battle lust change more and more, losing greater parts of their humanity. During the full moon they cannot help but turn into their full beast form. That’s why I lock them in the brig.”

  “And that’s why your role as quartermaster is so important.”

  Frenchie chuckled. “That’s only part of the story. I am in charge of the booty, and must ensure that each man gets his proper share. If I am not trusted by every man on this ship, the entire crew would be at each other’s throats in a heartbeat.”

  “Does everyone know what’s in the brig?”

  Frenchie nodded. “And now you do, too. But you shouldn’t have gone prying into things that are none of your affair. Once the captain and the others hear about this, I am not sure they will ever let you off this ship.”

  As Frenchie predicted, early the next morning Captain Seawolf called a ship-wide meeting. They made Thomas stand on deck and formed a big circle around him. Some men hung onto the rigging and looked down on him from above.

  The captain stood next to Thomas and made an announcement.

  “Frenchie tells me that he caught our new arrival here prowling around the brig last night. Of course, I don’t remember it myself, but we all know Frenchie’s word is as pure as a Spanish doubloon. What do you have to say for yourself, Thomas?”

  “I meant no harm. The musk drew me to you.”

  Captain Seawolf gave him a saucy look. “Well, I won’t blame a man for that, but you could have controlled yourself. You snuck into places where you didn’t belong. You are a guest on this ship, here on sufferance because we took pity on your plight, and this is how you repay us?”

  “I am truly sorry. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Our secret is safe with no man!” This came from Osier Soames, a burly, hairy fellow that everyone called “The Bear.” Now, Thomas knew why. “If the world knew we truly existed, all the navies of England and Europe would hunt us down. It’s bad enough that we have prices on our heads for raiding English and Spanish ships, but if the Frenc
h and the Dutch start coming after us, our troubles will double! I say we throw him overboard.”

  This was met with several jeers of approval. Thomas went cold.

  “We can’t kill a man for being curious,” another objected. “We’ve all been attracted by the musk, and perhaps he is more susceptible than most. I say we cut out his tongue and drop him off at the next port.”

  This suggestion met with a louder response of approval. One man even drew a knife.

  “I say we maroon him!” cried another.

  The crew descended into countless conversations all at once. Everyone had their idea about what to do with Thomas, none of them pleasant and most of them fatal.

  “May I speak?” Thomas shouted above the din.

  The pirates quietened down.

  “When I first came aboard, I loathed the idea of sharing a ship with pirates. I was not quiet about my feelings with you. And yet you all took me in, some of you literally so.” This was met with a knowing laugh. Someone punched Radbert in the shoulder. “You treated me as an equal even though I am not part of your crew. And then I saw what you did with that slave ship. That left my mind a muddle. I’d grown up thinking of you as evil but then I saw you stopping a greater evil, an evil that had been right in front of my eyes all my life and yet I did not see. Azenkua said that the British Empire was built on slavery, that the wealth of the market towns back in Merry Olde England were stuffed with the products created by the blood and sweat of owned men and women. The Spanish, Dutch, and French empires are no different. And it is not only the Black man and the Red man who are crushed by these empires. Men like us are, too, and women like our two female crewmembers. We are crushed because we cannot be ourselves. A friend of mine was whipped to death because of the laws forced on us by our kings, and I, nearly so. Now I see that there is no good and evil in the world, only evil and those who try to be a little less so. I won’t flatter you and say you are good men - you know yourself that you are not, but what is a bit of robbery on the high seas compared with what our kings and merchants do? I am done with kings and merchants. From now on, I am no longer English, I have no nation but the ship under my feet, and I hold no law but that of the man who leads me into battle. You fight for plunder, but you also fight for freedom - of a sort. In this cruel world, that’s good enough for me. I wish to join your crew if you’ll have me, and God help the next ship that falls into my hands!”