“This is more like it,” said the Captain, exhibiting the first glimmer of positivity anyone had seen in him for at least twenty-four hours. “Just look at it. Ships everywhere. If we can’t get some business here, we may as well drop anchor for good. I’d better go and talk to the Port Authority.”
“So how the hell do we look for cargo?” asked Toby. “Drop leaflets? Go door to door? Seems a bloody impossible task to me. Look at all these ships being loaded and unloaded.”
“We might not have to do anythin’. Someone at the Port Authority might be able to help us. If not, we just have to go to the local pub. No better place to find a job.”
After getting permission to dock The Phantom was manoeuvred into its allotted place, the anchor dropped and the mooring lines secured. The gangplank was lowered and Toby and Pete, along with the rest of the crew, disembarked. Waiting for them was a customs official who checked their passports then, after all the official business had been taken care of, the men were free to explore.
Except the Captain.
“Pete, I want you back by six, so you can stay on board while I go into town. Sandy, you can relieve him in the morning. I want someone on board at all times. Clear?”
“Don’t worry, babe,” said Toby. “I’ll come back with you to keep you company.”
After leaving the port area, the men split up.
“So what do ya wanna do?” asked Pete. “Apart from the obvious.”
Toby laughed. “I can do that any time. We’re in a foreign country for God’s sake. Let’s just walk around and see what happens.”
The streets were thick with tourists. Toby made out plenty of American accents, but he caught odd scraps of English spoken with many different accents. It was at times like these he was glad English was his first language.
“I can’t believe how old some of these buildings are,” said Toby, looking at up at an old fortress on the side of one of the hills. “Nothing like this in Australia.”
They tried a souvlaki from a street vendor for breakfast and for lunch they came across a seaside cafe with chairs and tables on the actual beach. In the afternoon they joined a tour of the 1500 year-old Patras Castle.
“Are ya really that interested?” asked Pete. “Coz I’m not.”
“Yeah, I am,” said Toby. “Can you believe we’re standing in a place that was built so long ago?”
Pete rolled his eyes. Toby felt a twinge of guilt that Pete was so against the idea, but as the ancient ruin came into sight Toby forgot about everything else, including Pete’s objections.
“After this we’ll go and find a pub, grab a drink, and see what the word is,” he said, as if telling Pete this would make the tour easier for him to endure.
The tour lasted for almost two hours. Even Toby was feeling in dire need of a pick-me-up afterwards.
“My brain is going to explode,” he said. “Too much information.”
“My brain exploded an hour and half ago,” said Pete.
When the tour bus returned to the coast, Toby and Pete had no trouble finding a pub. The streets were lined with them and they were mostly empty since the tourists were all out sightseeing. They ordered a beer and sat down outside to enjoy the late afternoon breeze.
“I hope one of the men has found us some cargo,” said Pete.
“Why’s that?” asked Toby.
“Because we sure as shit haven’t.”
Toby laughed into his beer and sent a spray of foam across the table.
“Yeah, I suppose we should’ve spent a bit more time looking.”
Toby felt Pete’s shoe rubbing against his bare shin beneath the table.
“We’d better grab a bite to eat after we finish this and get back to the ship. Don’t wanna piss the Captain off. He’s gonna be annoyed enough…”
Pete’s eyes looked past Toby and up the street prompting Toby to see what had snared his attention. It was Zeke and Bird.
“Over here,” Toby shouted, attracting the attention of the few passersby.
Zeke gave them a wave.
“I think we’ve earned a beer or two,” said Zeke as he arrived. “Anyone else want one?”
Both Toby and Pete indicated they still had ample left, although Toby for one was burning to know what Zeke had meant by ‘earning a beer’.
“Did you find us a job?” he asked Bird.
“Sure did. We found a small exports office and the best bit is that the cargo is on its way to The Phantom as we speak.”
Toby’s jaw dropped. He looked at Pete who was shaking his head in disbelief.
“What did ya get us?” he asked.
“Wine,” he said. “A shitload of wine. Best part is that the wine was bound for Fremantle in the first place so we can go straight back home again.”
“You…are…bullshitting us,” said Pete.
Bird shook his head as Zeke appeared with two pints of beer.
“I’m gonna go and get a bloody Lotto ticket.”
“So Bird’s told ye. He’s the one that spotted the sign. We went in and told them why we were there and as soon as the woman at the front desk could find someone who could speak a bit of English we were off and running.”
“That’s gotta make the Captain happy,” said Pete raising his glass. “Here’s to being paid.”
The four men clinked their glasses together.
“It’s about time we had some good fortune,” said Toby. “And I’m not going anywhere near the top deck when we go back past Africa.”
Zeke took a sip of beer and shook his head. “Nope. We aren’t going back that way. I reckon the Captain will take us to India, Thailand and straight down to Fremantle. It’s quicker.”
Later that evening after a small meal of calamari and hot chips Toby accompanied Pete back to The Phantom. The dock was a hive of activity.
“They want this in Australia as soon as possible,” said the Captain. “Do you reckon you could go down into the hold and make sure everything is hunky dory down there? I’ll stay up here.” He lowered his voice. “Got the boys from customs here somewhere.”
For the next two hours Pete and Toby helped stack and secure the boxes of wine.
“The old sailing ship isn’t really built for this kind of thing, is it?” said Toby as the men from the Port Authority tried to find a secure space for the last dozen pallets of wine.”
“Nope,” said Pete. “But I reckon we’ll just make it. That’s half the battle won. The next battle will be gettin’ all this plonk to Fremantle unbroken.”
As the doors to the hold were lowered and they were plunged into darkness, Pete grabbed Toby’s arm.
“What?” asked Toby.
Pete pulled Toby close and kissed him firmly on the lips.
“I’ve been wantin’ to do this all day.”
And it was no word of a lie for Toby could feel the large club of Pete’s cock pressing against his thigh. He reached down and began to massage it through Pete’s jeans while their tongues slid over and around each other.
“I fuckin’ love ya so much,” said Pete kissing the tender flesh beneath Toby’s ear.
Toby dropped to his knees and undid Pete’s zipper. He put his hand in and pulled out the engorged cock. It smelled damp and sweaty, an aroma that had always turned Toby on. First he kissed the head, like it was something precious, to be revered, and then he pushed his tongue between the foreskin and the head of the cock. He ran his tongue around the rim of the cock head, prompting Pete to moan and push Toby’s head further onto his cock. It slipped over his lips until the head was pressing against the back of his throat. As he slowly brought his lips back up the shaft, he could feel every vein and when he got to the head he dipped the tip of his tongue into the salty piss slit. He slid his lips down the shaft again and this time when his lips came back up there was a small bead of pre-cum waiting for him on the head of the cock. He licked it off then took his lips and tongue down to Pete’s hairy, low hanging balls. He took each one into his mouth and gave it a few sucks
; all the while his ears were filled with the sound of Pete’s appreciative moans.
Toby kissed a path to Pete’s perineum.
“Lift your leg up,” said Toby.
Pete stepped out of his jeans and using a space between some cartons to rest his foot, he gave Toby full access to his thickly-haired arsehole. Even before his nose was nestling against the top of Pete’s crack he could smell the familiar musty odour of Pete’s manhole. He rubbed his face over it, coating himself in Pete’s scent, and just as Pete reached around and placed a hand on the back of his head, he pushed into the puckered sphincter with his tongue.
Pete let out a long, low groan. Toby lapped at his lover’s hole with gusto, flicking the sensitive skin with the tip of his tongue before tongue-fucking him. His lips were sucking and slurping at the twitching chute and each time Pete pushed out and his arsehole flared inside Toby’s mouth, Toby pushed his tongue in until he could feel the moist, smooth tissue inside.
Pete began grinding his arse against Toby’s face as his right hand stroked his cock.
Toby fished his own cock out and started jerking off. Already his leaking prick had created a large wet patch in his jeans and now that it was out, it could leak freely. Toby made good use of it though. Each time his hand came up over his cock head he smeared his shaft with the copious amounts of silky-smooth gel. Soon his cock was throbbing and close to blasting the cardboard of the wine boxes with cock cream.
“Baby, I’m gonna blow.”
“In my mouth,” said Toby.
Pete took his foot down and turned around. He thrust his hips forward and delivered into Toby’s open mouth a deliciously creamy load. Toby swallowed fast while at the same time managing to keep his hand going on his own cock.
“You want my load?”
Pete dropped to his knees as Toby stood. Only just in time. The first jet of cum hit Pete on the forehead. The second and subsequent jets hit their target—the back of Pete’s throat. When he’d finished Pete stood up again and they kissed each other’s cum-covered lips. Remnants of both their loads were swapped back and forth between their mouths until a noise at the door had them rushing to dress themselves.
The light came on.
“Pete! Toby!”
It was the Captain.
“Over here,” said Pete, appearing around the corner of a stack of boxes. “We were just…”
“I don’t want to know what you were just…” said the Captain. “I was just wondering what the hell had happened to you. Thought you might have been crushed by a pallet or something.”
Toby appeared, licking his lips and looking guilty.
“Anyway,” the Captain continued. “I’m going into town to see if I can catch up with the others. Zeke and Bird just got back. I want to get out of here at first light.”
* * * *
Dawn of the following morning found half the crew looking like they had just been vomited up from hell. As Bird served up scrambled eggs, Sandy took one look at them and dashed from the table. Everyone burst out laughing.
They sailed out of Patros, back to the Mediterranean via the Ionian Sea. As The Phantom slipped over the glassy sea towards Egyptian waters, they were joined by a pod of dolphins. Toby leaned over the side of the ship and waved at them.
“You know they aren’t gonna wave back,” said Chad.
“Doesn’t matter. They can still see me.”
Chad shrugged and went about his business.
In the days that followed they left the Mediterranean, sailed south on the Red Sea, sticking to the Saudi Arabian side to reduce their chances of being paid a visit by horny djinn. Sandy still couldn’t look Lennie directly in the eye after their last encounter with one. They entered the Arabian Sea and found favourable winds that aided their journey to Bombay.
One day, while they were sailing by the coast of Goa, Toby found himself sitting at the bow of the ship staring into the far horizon.
“What’s up, babe?” Pete put his arm around Toby. “I’ve been lookin’ for ya.”
Toby made a sound which did no more than acknowledge Pete’s presence.
“Feeling a bit homesick?”
Toby nodded. “Yeah. Strange, isn’t it? All these months at sea and I’ve only ever thought of home fleetingly. Now we’re only a week or so away, I’m really feeling miserable.” Toby stood up. “I’ll get over it though.”
Pete rubbed his back. “Babe, we all get that way sometimes. Ya just never see it. We’re all too tough, ya see?” He laughed at his own joke. “It happens though.”
That night Toby was woken up by someone waking Pete up.
“Sorry Toby,” said Zeke. “Pete, there’s something I want ye to come and take a look at. Better put some clothes on.”
As Pete climbed over Toby, Toby could feel that Pete had a hard-on. He smiled sleepily to himself and thought, “Little good that’s going to do us now.”
“I’m coming, too,” he said and scrambled out of bed, nearly falling to the floor in his half-awake state.
“No, stay here,” said Pete.
Toby pulled a pair of shorts on. “I’m coming,” he said in a tone that defied Pete to speak against his decision.
They hurried from the crew’s quarters and quickly left the sound of snoring and wheezing behind.
“What’s the problem?” asked Pete.
“There are strange noises coming from the hold.”
“The wine?” asked Toby. “There’s no room down there for much else.”
“It’s not the wine, let me tell ye. Sounds like something big down there.”
They hurried past the steps that led up to the hatch and along the corridor to the hold. Toby was sticking so close to Pete that if he were any closer he’d be riding on his back. Twice he almost tripped Pete over in his eagerness to see whatever it was that had got Zeke so excited. When they got to the door, Zeke held a finger to his lips and pressed his ear to the door.
“Can ye hear that?” he whispered.
Toby nodded and held his breath as Zeke slowly opened the door.
Everything went silent.
Zeke put his finger in front of his lips again and stepped into the hold. He adjusted the grip on his flashlight and disappeared into the darkness. Pete winked at Toby then joined Zeke. Toby followed behind.
At first it was difficult to make anything out and Toby had to use his ears to listen for the faint sounds of movement in front of him. He used his hands to feel his way along the boxes and boxes of wine and trod very carefully. They soon came to a small aisle between the pallets of wine. It was barely half a metre wide, but as they found it, the scuffing sound began again.
Toby heard a loud exhalation, a small click, and suddenly there was light.
Zeke, who had switched the flashlight on, fell back against Pete who in turn fell back against Toby, who went crashing to the ground bum-first.
“What is it?” he heard Pete ask.
As Zeke passed the flashlight to Pete, Toby caught sight of the expression on Zeke’s face and that alone was enough to turn his blood to ice.
Pete stepped past Zeke and aimed the beam of light. Toby pushed past Zeke as the light fell upon its intended target. Toby gasped when the creature turned its head to face them. Its large eyes were wider than Toby’s were at that moment, which was really saying something. The nose was flat and its lips, painted a deep red, were parted to reveal brilliantly white, sabre-like teeth. It hissed at them, its long tongue stuck out, threatening, yet it was unable to attack them for it was trapped between the boxes. The sound they had heard were its multitude of arms scrambling for purchase on the smooth sides of the boxes.
Toby drank in the spectacle, noting how the skin of the creature looked black, but not the black of Africans or the black of Aboriginals, which he had seen many, many times, but a shade blacker than pitch. Only its palms were anything approaching any natural colour, a blackish-tinged pink.
Pete and Toby backed away.
“What the hell is it?” s
aid Pete. “I thought I’d seen everythin’, and most of it on this bloody trip.”
Zeke was hovering in the open doorway of the hold.
“Man, that thing is evil,” he said with a shudder. “Can’t you feel it? That dread? That horror?”
A sudden whiff of sickly, sweet rot reached Toby’s nostrils and he began to gag. Pete too was bent forward, throwing up on the floor of the hold. Toby held his in for as long as he could but soon the stench of death grew too strong and he gave up his dinner.
As Pete made for the exit, Zeke stepped out into the well-lit corridor just outside the hold. The scratching sounds had begun again. Worse still, Toby could feel himself being pulled backwards towards the creature.
“Pete!” he yelled out, his hands grabbing for something to cling on to.
He struggled to move forward, but it was like walking against a wild wind. His body was almost horizontal. He watched through wide eyes as Pete turned back and dashed towards him, but the sick feeling in his stomach told him that his lover was not going to make it in time.
“Peeete!” he screamed as the creature pulled him into its suffocating embrace.
When next he opened his eyes, he was groggy. He felt as though he’d been working non-stop for a week. The air was thick and soupy and he found it difficult to breathe. When he could focus, it was on a scene that he recognised as being from a nightmare.
The thick, grey cloud overhead hung low, creating an atmosphere of oppression. Beneath it in every direction were great piles of bones, most of which had been picked clean and bleached white. There were, however, several fresher additions. Some bones still had meat on them, dried and frayed, and there were other limbs with the blood still fresh on the naked flesh. Here and there were skulls, some with hair and little else, others with all the accompanying organs.
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